Dear Diary...

So, I do not keep a diary these days. If anything, this little blog has been mine for the past 5.5 years. In December, I did a little something that I would like to remember. While trying to hurry and prepare a meal for my family on a book club night, I cut my finger on the lid of a can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew. And by cut, I mean that I sliced it so deeply that in the end I received both stitches and a tetanus shot. 

Overall, it was a simple fix, but it taught me a couple of lessons. And it was a very ungentle reminder of how life is different once you have kids.

So, it is about 4 o'clock and I cut myself, and I am pretty sure that this is not just going to repair itself. Immediately I have to start weighing getting this fixed with the reality of taking two kids to a hospital. What do I do for the next 1:45 until Josh gets home from work? I get myself to the bathroom and grab a chunk of gauze (thankfully left over from a Halloween CRAFT project) and just wrapped it up myself and then with my teeth tear some Scotch tape and hold my arm over my head. I am sure that was a fun image to walk in to see.

So the big guy gets home and looks it over. Yep, he agrees this is never going to close back up considering how deep the cut is and the fact that it goes across the entire pad of my dominant SHOOTING HAND's thumb. I need to go to the hospital. Josh insists on going with me, therefore, we need to find someone to watch the kids. That required a couple of phone calls.

Then you think about all the preplanning I do when we go out to dinner and there is a sitter. And basically none of that gets done. Our neighbor gets here and we are like, "There is the food, we will be home as soon as we can."

As soon as we can has to take in account a one hour wait in the hospital ER, then another two hours to get me stitched up and discharged. We got a little stir crazy and entertained ourselves with "selfless". 

Our sweet neighbor not only fed the boys, but she also entertained them, and put them to bed. This was my end product. 

 Great scar, mama.

Oh and don't forget about those book club girls who were wondering if I would be thumbless at our next meeting. They-- so sweetly--collectively took a shot for each of my 4 stitches. And then texted me this. I just love them. It definitely made me laugh. It was taken after I sent them the picture of me in the hospital. I don't remember that one being taken. I think the painkillers were in full effect.

And 15 days later, to avoid another medical bill, I allowed my dear old hubs to cut out the stitches himself. And this time I did a shot for each of the stitches myself!

And that is the story of my first stitches. Pretty good record I had going on there…38 years….Not looking forward to that happening again!