oh. Help.

I have to say, the days I've had since giving up wine for Lent have been easily the most stressful, panicked, hard-driving, packed, emotionally-trying that I have had in the whole past YEAR. I'm not kidding you.

I had a brief flicker of a thought last night that I didn't have to do anything today, but that was a mistake leftover from when I made my to-do list on Monday. That was before I needed to take Chuck to have her TB test read, before somebody listed a Huge Sale with Mid-Century Modern Furniture and Depression Glass (that translates to if you call yourself a vintage seller and you don't come to this sale, you SUCK.) That was also before Peggy had diarrhea AGAIN and I checked her paper-work only to discover that she had missed her scheduled vaccination and worming (which would explain the poo). Me, miss a vaccination? That's so out of character, isn't it???

And since we were heading that way, we should drop off library books, stop at the gallery and pick up my check, so I could be home by afternoon to get some work done.

But alas. While trying to keep two crazed dogs in the van and get one little girl out of the van, the worst happened. I caught Charleigh's finger in the sliding door. There was that horrible moment when we both looked at the finger in the door and knew what was coming. And then there was the screaming and enough blood to mistake our parking spot at the Library parking garage as a crime scene. In no time, I had blood down my back, down my front, all over both our shoes...I tried to hold her hand up while rummaging through the van in search of napkins, finally coming up with a handful of Dairy Queen embossed, stiff and papery.

In this kind of situation, you just know one way or another if you need to see a doctor. I knew instantly when Vin broke his arm. I knew instantly when Mattie drank a bottle of Tylenol. I knew now. But I couldn't picture how to do it without another set of hands....somebody to drive or somebody to hold Charleigh while she sobbed. It must have been a tad confusing for Robb when I called with a "We're in the parking lot at the library and there is so much blood."

As we waited for him to arrive, Charleigh wailed, "DON'T TAKE ME TO CHURCH!"
I soothed her, "Honey, honey, why would I take you to church?"
She persisted, "Don't take me to church on Sunday!"
Confused and puzzled, I questioned, "Why not, Baby?"
"I don't want Aley to see it. It would freak her out!!!!!" She wailed uncontrollably.

I didn't laugh at that moment because I was afraid she might be in shock a little bit.

Robb took one look at it and agreed that she needed a doctor. So he hopped in the van and we sped off the the emergency room, where we were whisked in and taken care of promptly. Mental note: try to arrange your medical emergencies for Friday morning as it's pretty slow then.

After an x-ray, a 20 minute soak in betadine and peroxide, two nurses and a sleepy looking doctor, they declared she needed no stitches and her finger was not broken, but she does have a bandage roughly the size of one of those foam sports fingers.

With more stickers in hand, she was off to have her TB test checked before another McDonald's lunch with Mommy and Daddy (who still love cheeseburgers, but maybe not as much as before this week).

Robb decided that maybe sending me off to the vet to manage two dogs and a heavily bandaged kid was a bit too much, and took the aforementioned heavily bandaged kid off to his work, where she got to tell her story over and over again. She was quick to remind me that it was NOT my fault, that sometimes things just happen. "But don't do it again, Mom. "

And so the dogs got shots, the kid was brave (again), the husband was a hero, and the Old Lady, well she got home that night, just like in the old nursery rhyme.