Cuts and Scrapes

Ask my friends, I'm great in emergencies. I've been to all the CPR and First Aid classes. I have a sense of what needs to be done, and who's going to do it. I am quite, let's say confident, in a not-scary, domineering way. I will spring to action and remember all my training whether you or your child, or even a stranger needs help. I am at the ready, with a first aid kit, and CPR mask in the diaper bag.
I have called 911 so many times, I think the CHP is tired of the sound of my voice.
Until it comes to my daughters. Then I am a squawking, arms flapping, chicken with the head cut off, mess. I screech and panic and freak out and can't make a decision and yell and cry and then hyperventilate.
My only thought at these times?
"I made this, and she's broken and I can't make a new one and I need her fixed and I needsomeonetofixHER! Don't touch her, give her to me, I'll fix this, I can do this, where's my whatchamacallit, the thingy-withthestuff, the thing I NEED, Where Is It?! Is she broken, is she bleeding, what happened? Call a doctor, no let me see it, does she need a doctor, call an ambulance, does she need a- NO! Don't do that! Don't scrub it, don't wipe it, that looks like you're hurting her! I made this, IWILLFIXIT!"

Ahem.

Tonight, such an episode occurred. I remained true-to-form and still feel sick. My husband kept his calm and took care of the baby.

The picture shows how bad it really was.