One of These Fingers Is Not Like the Others

Yep. That's a broken Lulu-finger.

She headed out the door ahead of her brother and turned and stuck her finger into the hinge-side of the door while he slammed it shut behind himself.

It's Thursday night as I write this. The "incident" happened Tuesday night. I put ice on it. And gave her Tylenol. I did tell her teacher about it the next day in case it bothered her while she was at school.*

But, today, when I was relaying the story in passing to the orthopedic surgeon's wife, her reaction may have been something along the lines of, "It looks like WHAT?! You're going to need to go get that x-rayed [as she's on the phone making the appointment]."

Sure enough. BROKEN.

But, now, she has the cutest, tiniest, little custom-made splint you ever did see.

But, also? Now. When I tell you people that this girl is tough, you'll believe me. I was only telling my friend about it because it was so gross looking. Elizabeth has never complained about it unless she knocked it into something or... *cough cough*... her mother tried to grab her by the hand.*

That girl. Damn tough.

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*I have "Mother of the Year" forms here. I'll send you one so you can nominate me.

I also have Daughter of the Year forms, too. Because it's only just occurring to me that every. single. grandparent is about to find out about this wee BROKEN BONE via this blog post. Oh, well. Grandparents - you have to cut me some slack. I'm getting a root canal. That seems like punishment enough. Call Shawn and yell at him...

What's the Statute of Limitations on Suing a Pair of Skates?

She was just a little girl circa 1980. A little girl with new roller skates. She lived in a green house with a steep driveway. She fell on her face while trying to skate up the driveway. But, don't worry, she caught herself. With her front two teeth.* One was chipped. It got filed flat again.

Over the next thirty years, though, those teeth slowly... well... died. There was some cosmetic dentistry involved so she wouldn't look like this:

source

But, overall, she and her dead teeth got along quite well.

Until. Last week. And, the dentist said, while looking at her x-ray, "See this dark area? That could be where it's beginning to necrotize because your body is trying to reject that tooth."

Awesome.

[I'm tired of talking in the third person...]

So, I went to the endodontist (Fancy name for "Root Canal Doctor." I think they're smart to go with "Endodontist.") They performed a test wherein they applied what I can only assume was liquid nitrogen sprayed on a gauze to my front two teeth while asking, "Feel anything?" Nope. They pressed the same gauze to my "live" teeth. I sat up out of the chair it was so. freakin'. cold. I lied back; they applied the gauze to the dead teeth for.ever. while it sizzled. Nothing. They finished. I lowered my lip over my teeth. My teeth were TOO COLD FOR MY LIP TO TOUCH. I had to let my teeth warm up before I could lower my lip over them. Those are some dead teeth.

But, as the endodontist said, "Dead teeth do not necessarily mean infected teeth... We might just watch them... Call you back in in six months." Yay!

Then he did an exam. And, up on my gums where they hook to my lip. Hurt. Like a bruise. He said, "I take it back. You have to have a root canal." On Friday.

Or be the girl who one day just has a tooth fall out of my head.

I blame the roller skates.

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*I asked my sister if she remembered the roller skating trauma.

She said, "Yeah. I think I dipped my toe in your puddle of blood in the driveway."

"Oh my gosh! On accident?!"

"No... Not really..."

So. So. SO. Disturbing.

We let Spence Trick or Treat, too.

Since my last post was about Lulu's costume party, I believe I left some of you with the impression that Spencer was locked in his room for Halloween.

Fear not! I present to you, Officer Johnson.

 Shawn even got into the spirit at his office.

This is Shawn's half of our costume from the Halloween Party we attended.
I promise I'll show you those pictures as soon as I see them myself!

It seems the only lame one on Halloween was me! Shawn took the kids Trick or Treating around the neighborhood and I stayed home to hand out candy. But, we live on a cul-de-sac and none of the other houses in the "sac" had on their porch lights. And, in order to see our porch light, you have to be committed to coming down into the cul-de-sac. The dark houses didn't invite anyone in; therefore, no one saw our light; therefore, I gave away about ten pieces of the 300 pieces of candy that I bought. 

Sad candy that never got to fulfill its destiny.

Now the candy bucket and I are having a battle of wills every time I walk past it. I've come really close to saying, "I will not eat you!" out loud. Just one step closer to being the crazy lady who wears my underwear on the outside of my clothes.