Splat

I'm going down, down, down, down.
I'm going down, down, down, down.
~Bruce Springsteen

SPLAT!! My mommy antennae perked, this was not the usual 'splat' sound, and upon gathering my toddler up, saw it was not the usual bleeding. When I got a good look at the cut on her bottom lip, I called for my husband. He looked at it, then with a stony expression said the dreaded word, "Stitches."

We've 'been there done that' with older sis, so with a feeling of deep dread that manifested as a splitting headache for me, we drove to the ER. The awful part is you know what is coming. They do not. As she bounced, giggling on the gurney (trying, apparently, to fall and split open something else), I felt like I was leading the little lamb to the lion's den. BUT, nobody wants a scar faced kid, so stitch it up we did. As I watched her pinball her way through our living room the next day, I wondered when (not if) we would be making the trip again.

Here she is after the trauma watching a video.
Elmo helps the world make sense again.



: :

Moving on, as we must, we returned to our everyday routine, minus any swimming for the next five days.

Here we are eating our spaghetti dinner last night like a pack of wolves. I must do something about our table manners. Spaghetti. The dinner that says, "Welcome home from your hard day. I boiled water for you." I guess we need to do some meal planning, too.


















This week is our "stop living like decadent slobs" week since our out-of-town company is gone. Good bye Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla every evening, and hello YMCA. This is also our first actual week of Summer vacation -- Woo hoo!! Let's hope it's the best one ever!!