Aimee's no good, very bad day.

You know, I discovered tonight that there is nothing in this world that could ever prepare you for the gut wrenching terror that overtakes you when your child is hurt. Nothing. Ever.

And I think it's going to be a good long while before I'm able to get past the images of my Cameron's sweet face covered in blood or seeing it pour down his chin and his neck and soak into his favorite skateboarding t-shirt or having to watch powerless while clots of blood poured from my baby's nose as he violently vomitted in the parking lot because he was choking on his own blood.

The paramedics were great, they didn't chastise me for panicking and they were wonderful with Cameron, they assured me he'd be fine, the vomitting was only because he was upset and choking on his own blood, not a concussion, they explanied that when a blood vessel in the nose is broken, there's a lot of blood and it looks pretty scary, but it's rarely as bad as it looks, they offered a million times to transport him to the hospital if I was uneasy, but in their opinion, as long as we kept a close eye on him, he'd be fine and after I chose not to have them transport him, they assured me that they were only a phone call away if I began to feel uneasy after they left.

The police, on the other hand, weren't nearly as soothing. They told me, "You're going to have to get used to this kind of thing if you want to continue living here, you've just got to chalk it up to the neighborhood." What kind of bullshit answer is that? At least they went across the street and talked to the woman whose son punched my kid in the face and warned her that since her kid doesn't live here he needed to stay off the property because if I had to go back over there and talk to the bitch again, the paramedics would've been transporting someone to the hospital after all.

I went from bone chilling terror to violently pissed and after I got past my mad (as my mom puts it) I spent the rest of the evening trying not to be sick.

It was a fucking nasty bitch of a night and still, after all is said and done, I couldn't honestly tell you why that fucking kid punched Cameron in the face, his momma, who was across the street and inside the fucking house so she couldn't possibly know, told the cops that Cameron hit her kid first (of course), but the kid that lives next door to me who was playing with Cameron when it happened said that Cameron didn't touch the kid. And what's saddest to me is, this didn't happen down the street or at the other end of the complex, no, this happened on the sidewalk right in front of my fucking townhouse. It's such bullshit.

Anyhow, Cameron is alright, a little traumatized, but he bounced back pretty quick. Me, not so much.