He gave me the finger

I do believe that titleing is the best part of blogging.  This particular title is an attempt to joke about a subject that is far from funny.  I think this is called irony.  But I could be wrong.

Yesterday was Friday the 13th. 

While I am not a particularly superstitious person, I think that when the universe speaks, you best listen.  So, while most Fridays that happen to fall on the 13th day of the month are fairly benign, this one, not so much. I will pay more attention to the date from now on.

Work was fine, flew by- no whammies!  Got home, kids misbehaving, requiring time outs, then spankings, then spankings WITH time outs.  Not good.

We had the quickest dinner that I could whip up, and I got both kids in the bath....this, my friend, is where it begins- but SO far from where it ends.

Just as I was grabbing some towels to pull the clean shiny children from the bath, Riley pooped the tub. Remove children... empty bath... pick up human feces..bleach tub... rinse tub... replace children... rewash children etc.

After fun time in the bath was over, the kids scampered up the stairs for a little more trouble.  KNOWING that their mother was downstairs cleaning up the poop-tastrophy, my little angles conspired against me.  Ethan went into my bathroom, got the garbage can- placed the garbage can under the window, stood up on the garbage can, opened the window and screen, and tried to climb out. Not sure what Riley's part was in this, but I'm sure she was cheering him on, at the very least.

While this could have ended badly, it did not.  His logistics were all wrong.When he called for help, I found him with his ass on the roof, and his head and feet still in the house.  (It's a small window).

So now it's getting on about 7pm.  I have both the kids in Riley's room with me, since CLEARLY they can't
be out of site for more than 7 seconds.... We are TOTALLY settling down.  All three of us in Ri's twin bed, snuggling and laughing... When IT happens.

Ethan gets up, walks over to Riley's closet, and attempts to open the door.  When he turns the handle, which is a 100 year old glass knob, it breaks off, and slices off the tip of his right ring finger.

MADNESS IN SUES.  He runs to me, still with the glass knob in his little hand, SCREAMING.  I jump up, and seeing a little blood, try to get him into the bathroom.  Unaware of the damage, I actually try to put a band aid on it....NOT WORKING! 

At this point, Riley too, begins screaming bloody murder- which is appropriate since that's what the place looked like.  I'm trying like crazy to get pressure on it now, which of course causes the boy pain, thus increasing the screaming. 

After what seemed like an hour, I found the phone and called for back up.  Got a towel for poor Ethan's hand, got a diaper bag for Riley.  When I opened up the towel, I realized that he was missing a good portion of his finger...I went to find it. As soon as I walked in the room I could see it, still on the nub of a door handle that had taken it from him.  I grabbed a zip lock, and plucked if from the glass.  Threw it in some ice, and away we went. 

We were in the Emergency Room for about 14 minutes.  Seriously.  For those of you who don't think it can happen, we are proof.  A SHORT trip to the ER.  They examined him, told us they couldn't reattach the tissue, cleaned it and wrapped it. Promised that it would heal nicely, told us to follow up with the pediatrician in a few days. Away we went.  This is (so far anyway) the only perk of having a nurse husband- ER connections... 

Poor child was so upset he didn't even want strawberry ice cream. 

So now my rambunctious, independent boy needs help pulling up his pants, and is trying to figure out how to live a left handed life.  He's currently being spoiled rotten, and I doubt that I have (or will) ever felt such sympathy for another human being.  If I could write him for pain-killers I would do it. If I could give him my finger- sign me up!

So this has been our weekend of horror.  We are hoping that this early in the year trip to the E.R. means that we are off the hook for the remainder of the summer, but somehow I doubt we will get off that easily. 

I'm sorry if you were fooled by the title.  If I tricked you into reading this by making you think you were going to get a funny story about my son flicking me off...I just really needed a little humor to get through it...I didn't mean for that to be at your expense.

It's time for me to go sleep with Ethan.  After all, he might need help in the bathroom at 2am.