The Club

It started just like any Friday morning does. It's the day we don't have to do anything or be anywhere right off the bat. We watched some Disney Channel, ate breakfast got clothes on, put toys away and started the vaccuum in the basement. Then the kids had yogurt while I got ready to do the "Friday errands". You know, go to the Post Office, visit "Lady" at the bank and get groceries.

So, off we trott to stop #1...(the post office, what were you not paying attention?) We get the mail from the PO Box. Buddy races us down the ramp (we take the stairs & he always wins, wink wink). A Candian was parked next to me. Little Miss was screaming (apparently she was under the impression that the Post Office gave candy). Things were escalating in a hurry. I was swatting her bum telling her to stop crying or there would BE NO CANDY at the bank, she was screaming candy. No sooner had I laid down the candy law and I had to yell at Buddy not to run behind the car. The kid thinks that he can just run around the back of the car and then all of Front St slamms on their brakes thinking they'll hit him while cursing me as a lazy parent. Then, Canadian-post-office-visitor give me "the look". You know, the one where they're thinking, "wow, that lady has no control over her children." if he was an old lady, I swear I would've heard tongue-clucking. So, then, I wrangle Little Miss into the car, buckle her in and slam the door.

And. that's. when. it. happened.

I slammed my right index finger in the car door. Now, mind you, I slammed it hard enough for the door to completely latch and my finger some how popped out of the completely latched passenger door. It was not instant pain, in fact I didn't even curse (points for mom!), besides the Canadian tongue clucker was still watching me. So, I'm gasping a bit for air now as the reality of pain is hitting me and somehow buckling Buddy in. So, I get into the front seat of the car and now it's getting really bad and I'm explaining to the 3 year old and candy-screaming 1 year old that mommy is in pain and could we all just shut up a minute (and for the love of all things that are holy, Canadian man could you go into the blankety-blank post office already!!). Now, I'm trying to figure out just how to turn the key in the iginition. So we set off and I'm telling the kids that we're making a slight detour to mommy's work so that I can get some drugs or something because this is SERIOUS pain that is increasing by the minute (and getting very black, I might add).

So I'm driving to mommy's work, with strict instructions from Buddy to tell grandpa about me owie and who should be on the road but a cop. At this point w/ tear streaming down my face waving my index finger in the air I am dairing the man in blue to pull me over. At which point I planned to give him my children and lay down on the side of the road. But, alas, i think he took one look at me and decided "you know, I don't think I want to get into it w/ that lady...." Well played.

I arrive at mommy's work hit the drug cabinet and take in a measly amount of drugs, not enough to make a difference (grandpa was on the phone, by the way), inform Buddy that I didn't talk to grandpa and drive past the same police man who still doesn't want to get into it with me.

I arrive at the bank where a former classmate of mine says hello, while my children abandon me to go see Lady. I barely manage a response to people I encounter. Some how I manage to buckle the kids into their seats.

We arrive at the grocery store. Things are heading south by the minute. I now feel about ready to pass out.

Now, I've had two kids w/o epidurals. I've had 18 hour labor w/ a posterior facing baby that won't come out and too many stitched to fathom. But this finger thing takes the cake in the pain department. I'm not joking. Labor was pain w/ a purpose that I could breath and barf my way through. This was a pointless, I stuck my finger in the freaking door, pain that wouldn't go away.

Back to the grocery store. Now I'm ready to pay and the checker says "ma'am, are you feeling okay, you don't look very good" truth is, I'm trying very hard not to pass out. I tell Buddy to get his coat off because he needs to buckel his own buckels because mommy needs to lay down. We get home and that's exactly what I did. Frozens still in the car, I lay on the floor. Buddy even helps Little Miss get her shoes off and NO ONE FIGHTS! I hear Hubby drive in and send Buddy to ask daddy to empty the car out while I wonder how in the heck a finger in a door could reduce me to mush.

Of course, this is the afternoon where i have to take a final for my class. Typing is comical (and still is) as I can't use my index finger at all. Of course, this is the night of my scrapbook overnighter where I'm supposed to go away and have fun on my own making beautiful photo albums with a bum finger and a now near useless hand.

Hubby asks "would you like me to drill it for you". I promise that if he comes near me I will drill in his man-region. He does not doubt my intent and stays far, far away.

So, now, I am left with the club. A useless black finger that Hubby says looks like a "dude finger" and with which I am not allowed to touch him because it's gross. See how inconvient this all is for him??

On a more positive note, Buddy has come up with one of my new favorite kid-isms "I love you muchest of all" which translates to "I love you more/most", but it's way cuter his way. Little Miss has a few cute ones of her own, such as "I want an icecream" which means an ice cube in her water and "I want a peanut butter" which is butter on a bun/toast/bread of some kind.

And the great news is that I can still manage to do piggy tails on her...even with the club. In fact I've become quite adept at using my other 9 fingers. Her piggy tails are pretty darn cute. Well, I'm off to work on the church website!