The One Where I Make It All About Me. . .

Fact: I ruin all my shirts. Every single one of my t-shirts has little holes in the front at about kitchen counter height (what that's all about I don't know) or has bleach spots down the front (I love bleach. I get it from my Grandma Wheatley, (the trait/gene - not the actual bleach). If it can be bleached, I'll do it. If it can't be bleached then I will probably try to at some point and if it gets ruined then it really wasn't worth it anyway.) Friday I was wearing a brand spanking new shirt from Target, I love Target too, and was prepared to ruin it by the end of the day. Man, do I really wish that I had ruined it my normal way, i.e. holes/bleach, because this shirt was used to mop up Bea's blood. That's right, I win mother of the year again because Bea fell off the kitchen chair and bit through her lip. I have a woozy stomach and couldn't verify that it actually went ALL the way through but it was gaping enough on the outside that I hauled her into the doctor's office. And since I have somehow made this post all about me. . .the Jeep wouldn't start so Mark had taken my car to work that morning. I had Drama call him and ask if he could come home or if I needed to call a friendly neighbor. He raced home and I took Bea up the street to the Pediatrician.

 It turns out I may have over-reacted just a tiny bit. Bea didn’t need stitches but they did super glue her “gaping gash” back together and said she shouldn’t have much of a scar.

Bea was really only upset for a few minutes right after the “incident.” In fact the nurses commented on how happy she was (even though she was still eeking blood out of her lip). I informed them that she could be mortally wounded and still be happy smiley baby frolicking down the halls and to not read too much into it.

PS-Please disregard the applesauce all over her mouth. The only way I could get a picture was to feed her and trap her in her highchair.