Two out of Four Ain't Bad

Whiney, whiney Wednesday....

So last night, The Babe decided one eye was better than two, so he took his pointy little finger and tried to gouge out the left one. He literally stuck a finger in his eyeball and tried to pull it out.
Really what he was trying to do was rub his eyes, but since he's only 3 months old, his finger got stuck like freaken Jack Horner. He screamed this weird high pitched cry for like ten minutes, and I called my mom in a panic. "Mom! Please tell me you can't pluck your own eyeball out..." I seriously lost ten years of my life last night. I could just envision my beautiful, perfect little boy with a creepy glass eye and tunnel vision. After the screaming, he went to sleep and in the morning his eye was fine.



So, this morning, The Hub walked EJ down to the bus as usual. Four went with, as usual. And I stayed inside and got the babies dressed, as usual. EJ got on the bus and Four and The Hub came back in the house. Four took off her boots and threw them at me for no reason at all, other than she is wildly undisciplined. "Four! You pick those up right now!" But a wildly undisciplined child does not give two shits what Mom has to say about anything at all, especially boots on the floor, so she ignored me.



Beastie was in the bedroom and came running out, headed right for the melted snow and boots in the middle of the foyer. (Yes we have a foyer in our 1000 square foot two bedroom house. Don't act like you're not impressed.) I wasn't even really paying attention to Beastie, to be honest. I was watching the Today Show, to see who was 2008 Person of the Year. (It was Barack Obama, but anyway.)



Cue suspenseful music.



Beastie slipped on the melted snow (read: water) and then tripped on Four's boots and fell face first on the floor, which happens to be ceramic tile. She let out this bizarre animal-like scream, and really dark, almost black, blood started spurting from her lower lip.



I've never seen anything like that, except maybe on Mortal Kombat, and it scared the hell out of me. My child is hemorrhaging from the lip and screaming like a hyena and I am just panicking and can't do a thing about it. What I ended up doing is calling my mom. "Mom, please tell me you can't cut off your lip on a pair of pink Polaris boots..." My mom told me to wash it with a washcloth, which I did, kind of. Really what I did was gingerly touch the cloth to her lip, and when she screamed harder I just held her and let her bleed all over my new green sweater. She quit screaming after a minute or two, and her lip is completely huge and gross looking, but not cut enough to need stitches or anything.
That incident took at least another ten years of my life expectancy.

At least Four and EJ haven't injured themselves. Two out of four ain't bad. But then again, the day isn't over yet.