Well, it has been over a week since I updated my blog aka “a peek into this crazy life that I have that allows you to point and laugh and be glad it is not you.”  I have to admit that 93 % of the time my life is pretty darn tits but when you have 3 little kids, they are allowed to f up the last 7 percent without giving notice.  I mean zero notice.  Zip.  Zilch.  None.

When I stepped out of the house last week to go meet a client, I was not expecting a hysterical phone call after I was just about a block away from home.  I didn’t really understand much…..just “lots of blood” and a mention of a slamming door.  That seemed ok, easy enough a tiny pinched finger.  Certainly not fun for whoever was the victim but I thought a band-aid would seal that little sucker up and I would be back on my way.  I turned around and walked back into camp Chaos on fire.  Not. A. Chance.

I walked in and immediately saw that it was poor Abbott that was screaming bloody murder and LA was sitting in the fetal position with a sheer look of terror while Eden was happily giving me the full low down on EVERYTHING.  We have the most amazing nanny in the world and together we have all been telling L.A to STOP SLAMMING doors for at least the past 6 months.  The worst part is that I had the foresight to go buy the pool noodles for the doors to stop future slamming incidents. Thanks to Pinterest, I read that if you sliced them up the slide, you could put it over the door edge and even if it slammed, injury would not ensue.    I had the pool noodles but that was it.  The kids played with them and pretended they were giant lasers.  You win some you loose some.  When you put a toddlers finger in the hinge side of a door and slam with all your might, you are going to have a problem.

My super nanny held his finger on and told me we had to go to the ER together because if she took the pressure off, the finger would FALL OFF.  Say what?  We made the landscapers (I know if sounds WAY fancier that it is) come in and watch the guilty party and queen tattle tale while we burned rubber to the nearest hospital with the nib of a tiny swear finger hanging by a shred of skin.  They wrapped it up while we figured out logistics because apparently the hospital we choose did not have a pediatric hand surgeon.  Of course….who even knew there was such a thing.

I was left with this in the waiting room.  Not my shining moment as a mom.  The poor kid whailed in pain so I cranked Baby Einsteins on my phone to try and distract him.  Let’s just say the other ER patrons were not fond of us – a screaming baby and mom blaring baby tunes from her phone.

They decided we needed to be transported to LOYOLA where the fancy surgeon was that was going to sew the digit back on.  He liked this part.  He felt important.

I was a wreck at this point and so was Dad who raced down there.  It seems so minor when you hear about someone else’s kid’s finger but when it is your poor kid, it is a big deal.

 

So, after the 2K ambulance ride (don’t get me started – it was 2 miles AND we have insurance.  Real insurance.  Real damn expensive insurance).

The little guy got his versed and he was out…..they tried to stuff back what looked like ground beef back into the chubby little finger, line that sucker up and just sewed all the way around the damn thing.  11 stitches with what looked like a giant fish hook that was lifted from Sponge Bob’s joint.

Now his finger resembles a piece of purple asparagus.  Lots of black and blue and very spikey stitches.  I am not sure I can ever eat asparagus again…unless it is on sale.

Fast forward to one day later and this kid was cruising around the joint like NOTHING ever happened.  We realized since all the nerve endings were cut/shredded he could feel no pain but the cast didn’t even bother the guy.  If it was going to happen to any of my pals, this for sure was the best one to happen to.  This kid is so laid back and tough as nails.  The other 2 are a touch prima donna and could use a ladel to drink up any attention they get bestowed on them.  They can turn the waterworks on at the drop of a hat and showing off is their gig, well, they did learn from the best.  I still show off.  Just the other day in yoga I did and it backfired….I thought I could lift my leg that high and I did not have to pass gas.  Backfired.   But thank God only Dexter was next to me and he is about 80 and just goes to check out the ladies in the yoga pants.  It is our little secret.

So if he loses a tip of a finger, it will not be the worst thing that will happen but right now it all looks good.  Sir Abbott is amazingly resilient and quite frankly, he is my hero.  My hero is a 1 year old who shits his pants and likes to grab his nuts EVERY opportunity he gets.  I may want to rethink this.