I don't really swear very often. I've learned to censor myself since I have a couple of midget parrots who listen to EVERYTHING I SAY AND THEN REPEAT. Usually at totally innappropriate times. Like in the middle of dinner with my grandparents when Girl X (3 at the time) told them to pull her damn finger she had to fart. I nearly choked on my water and my Grandpa had to leave the table because he couldn't stop laughing.
Tonight? It was not a night to test my censorship abilities.
I believe fuckity fuck came out of my mouth a number of times. In my defense, it's not often that I see Baby X's blood on the outside of his body. (You know, as opposed to all the times I've seen it on the inside of his body. What?)
The evening started out well enough. We were waiting for Mr X to get home. It was the first night all week I didn't feel like I was going to keel over from running around all day and night. Baby X had decided that Girl X's door was fun to play with.
We banged as loud as we could with our hands. She'd open it and say boo. Back and forth. He laughed. It was great fun for all. (Gee, I'm so glad we have all those interesting, loud and educational toys for Baby X.) Then Girl X peeked around her door at me. She started to close her door when I saw Baby X was playing with the hinge of the door. The hinge that is inside her room. And we were outside. Um.
"Don't close the door!"
She was like a millisecond from having it totally shut. She quickly opened it.
Huh. There's a little spot of red on the door. Now where did that come from?
Look at Baby X.
Oh Shit! Oh Fuckity Fuck!
He was doing that noiseless scream. Typically reserved for when something really really really hurts. Duh mom! Of course it hurt! What a stupid thing to say. And you just sat there for what seemed like an eternity with this 'uhhh' look on your face while I BLED!! Hello? BLED I SAY!!!!
I grabbed him and ran into the bathroom. How bad could it be? It was just a door right?
The pad of the tip of his finger was a little more than halfway off.
I grabbed gauze and tried to stop the bleeding. Yeah. What was that? I've got this BLOOD coming out of my finger, which? I have so much more to say about that! And you stick some kind of papery stuff, hold my finger up and squeeze? What is wrong with you? I mean really! I'm bleeding. You're supposed to drop everything and make it better. Like instantly! And the finger? Oh my GOSH people! Readers? Out there seeing these words right now? I have to tell you. It wasn't just any finger ok? It was my FAVORITE finger. The one I point at everything with. I use it to poke my sister in the eye. I use it to shake indignantly at my mom or my sister or my dad when they won't give me cookies... mmmm cookies. What was I saying? Oh right. The finger. And oh! THE BLOOD! Wow. Just. My favorite finger and. Blood. And she sticks, what was that? Gauze? Yeah. Gauze on my finger. For what?
The blood kept coming so I said 'Gah!' Grabbed a band aid because you know, nothing says good mom better than a SpongeBob band aid on a half chopped finger. What is a SpongeBob? And what is this thing on my finger? First, there's the blood and now there's this strange blue thing stuck to my finger and it won't come off! Help me!
We get to the hospital right in time for everyone else to get there too. By now, Baby X isn't screaming anymore. Girl X is still crying because she feels HORRIBLE because OH MY GOSH MOM I CUT OFF MY BROTHER"S FINGER AND AHHHHH!!!! So, I had to keep telling ehr accidents happen and if she only knew some of the things she had to go to the hospital for...... er. um. Accidents happen. He won't remember it later anyway.
We go to check in and there is noone there. We're in an emergency room and there is NO ONE TO HELP US! HELLO?? There is a line forming behind us. I finally say screw being polite. "Hello? Anyone help?"
Check in and am told to wait. Which, I expected I mean. Finger. Not life threatening.
We walk over and look at the fish tank. Fish? Oh I like, wait. What is this thing on my finger? I want to point at the fish and there is this thing on my finger! Gah!
"Look mom! Dead fish."
What? No. I don't think that's dead. I mean, dead fish float to the top and this one is just kind of hanging out in the coral with his face down in where we can't see it and his tail sticking straight up.
Dead fish float. Right?
When that fish finally did come out, uh. I wish it had stayed in. It was ugly. So ugly. Mom! My finger! Remember? My favorite finger? The one I use to stick up my nose?
Waiting to get called back and I decided we all needed a bathroom break so I told the nurse and she said not to worry.
And when we came back she said 'sorry, I just let someone else go in front of you. You'll get called back soon.'
Of course. You can sit in a hospital waiting room for an hour and they won't call you back until you get up to use the restroom. Never fails.
We finally get taken back to a room.
Where we get to wait and wait some more. Only now? No fish to look at it!
2 1/2 hours later, the Dr walks in and spends all of 2 minutes looking at his finger before he asks me what I'd like to do. What? Did I get a medical degree in your waiting room? What???
If we had been seen 30 minutes earlier, he wouldn't have hesitated to start stictching. But, now it was borderline. It was starting to clot and heal. It was iffy whehter he really needed a stitch or not.
I chose not. Because really? This kid would have been pulling on it and chewing on it and if it wasn't 100% neccessary, why bother. And yes. He will have a scar. But once it's too late for stitches, he would've had one anyway. Did you even think to mention how it HURT to have that strange guy pulling on my finger and bending it like that? Oh and what about that stupid joke with Girl X? Offering her a pony in exchange for me? What was that? Although, maybe I should have said yes. I bet he wouldn't have let my finger, my favorite finger!, get hurt.
So after 3 hours what did we get?
They were going to wrap it up in some red stretchy stuff- ha! A big red bump where his finger should be!- but Baby x, like me, has a latex allergy. So instead, a giant band aid (no SpongeBob?!?!) that wrapped aorund his finger about a hundred gazillion times! What the.. I mean come on! Of all the darned things... Really? I mean. Really? How am I supposed to bend my finger? Do you know how hard it is to fishhook someone when you can't bend your finger? Well. I do. What next? Wrap up my arm so I can't grab Cat? Gah! Are you all getting the magnitude (do you like how I, a babe of barely a year, can use such big words like magnitude and indignant?), of this? It's my FINGER! I need this finger. A lot. I pick up cookise with this finger! Oh for the love of........ yawn..... uh. ZZZZZZZ....................
So then we had to wait for discharge papers. And after 30 minutes, it dawned on me that I was waiting for someone to tell me how to care for a band aid. A BAND AID!!!
So I left.
Without the papers.
I'm expecting the discharge paper police to show up at my door at any moment. Right behind the favorite finger police.
Mr X likes to point out how I'm all long winded (and so?) and yes, I totally could have finished this post neatly in like 6 words.
Baby. Finger. Door. Blood. Ouch. Band-aid.
But that does not capture the full picture. The magnitude mom! It's my ffffffavorite!! Zzzzzzzzz
So. It's long. But what did you expect from me?
Today we went stocking stuffer shopping. Baby X has been his normal happy self until someone talks to him and then he gets all solemn and holds up his finger and I SWEAR HIS EYES GET WATERY!! and starts "uuuhhhh huh uhuhhhuh uhhh oooo" and then he smiles sweetly. I think it means 'look! Crazy people hurt my finger! Call CPS! I'll smile so she doesn't get what's up! Come on! Dial! Dial!' Actually mom, I'm trying to tell them about this stupid thing you stuck on my finger, my FAVORITE FINGER AGGG!!! and I can't bend it and would they be so kind as to give me a cookie. Then I smile to show them how cute I am. And as soon as I can coordinate myself, this thing is coming off. OFF, you hear me? Now where's my cookie?