Day 77 - March 29, 2009

I am the champion, my friend. I hate blood. My own or anyone else's. I never had to make the decision to not go into the medical field...all my life that was given. I've lived my entire mommyhood life in fear of my kids ripping their ear off (Slade did that when he was about Spencer's age!) or smashing their teeth through their front lips. I've gotten really really really lucky - and most bloodiness has occured while Dad was here. There was the time when the neighbor kid hit Spencer with a broomstick and split his head open...Dad was here. Thank God.

Slade knows when anything like this happens that he must clean up and treat the wound, but he also must give me silly, mindless tasks to keep me from requiring an ambulance myself. This usually translates into things like "Brit, get me a wash cloth." Done. "Brit, get the wash cloth wet". Okay. "Brit, go program the VCR". Anything to get me outta there.

But today, as I was busy putting groceries away, I heard a cry from downstairs that I KNEW had blood attached to it. Taylor came upstairs and walked around the corner looking like this: I hollared at Spencer to get the camera and he played photographer while I put on my doctor's hat and didn't even consider passing out! And of course, it wouldn't be complete without a little love before he went and crawled in bed for a rest. I still don't know exactly what happened. Conveniently there are about three different stories, but it's one of those things I'll probably never know. Oh well! The important thing is, I didn't have to call in reinforcements. Yay me. :)