Faint of Heart, Read NOT

This one gets nasty... Consider yourself warned.

Tonight we were enjoying the company of a dear old school chum and his lovely new wife, who had come over for dinner. Being newlyweds, they have two puppy children, but have not yet ventured into the world of human-parenthood. And, after tonight, they may never do so. Dinner with the Hudson Storm should be deemed birth control by the FDA. And that's on a normal night, but with events like tonight, it's a guarantee for abstinence, I'm quite sure.

Thunder and Hail found Bert's tape measure while us adults were still eating and laughing about old times. A good old fashioned tape measure is hard for young boys to resist, especially since it can be pulled out all the way across the room then fly back into it's own little house, all while making a metal clanging noise, when let go.

Bert had just gotten the words out of his mouth, "Put it up NOW. Some body's gonna get hurt." When Hail began to scream. His thumb had a deep, bloody slice which was bleeding profusely. Bert cleaned it with "special cold water" (aka: peroxide to those who are old enough not to freak out when hearing that word and screaming, "It's gonna BURN! NOOOOO!") and wrapped it in paper towels and sat with Hail in his lap for 20 minutes or so while applying pressure to help stop the gushing blood. We continued with our laughter and stories of old, when the subject of injuries and crazy boys came up. Having a huge mouth, I proudly announced, while knocking on the table of course, "As wild as these boys are, we've actually never had to go to the ER with any injuries. Just illnesses. No stitches, broken bones, etc., so we've been fortunate."

Famous. Last. Words.

Moments later, Bert decided that Hail was ready for a regular band-aid and got one wrapped tight enough to hold in some of the blood. He then placed Hail in the chair, and went to wash his own blood-soaked hands. Hail turned white as a ghost (sidetrack for a moment: Where did that saying come from anyway?? Why do we assume ghosts are white? Do black people die and suddenly become white?? And since I'm not fair skinned, and get a pretty good tan each summer, will I lose all my pool-side work just because I'm a ghost? Just wondering...) Hail, sat with absolutely no color in his face and then with no warning, no crying, no words at all-- vomited every bite of food he had for dinner. Out it came, Exorcist style. Props to Kevin and Jessie for not running as fast as they possibly could to their car, choking back their own vomit. They sat, sweetly, and continued to entertain me while I tended to the carnage, with Her Highness commentating, "Ewww! MOMMA!! That's soooo GROSS! Why do I see carrots?? And some chewed up hamburger? That's the nastiest thing I've EVER SEEN! And there's some...." she continued. "HUSH!" is all I could say, thinking poor Kevin & Jessie will never come over again. And who could blame them?

Bert quickly bathed Hail, and the rest of The Storm, who thought the remainder of our time with guests would be best spent streaking through our living room.

Our guests left shortly after, promising that we hadn't ruined their night, and that we would get together again soon. I almost made them sign in blood, to hold up the promise, but I thought enough had been shed for one night. I guess we could have used some from the puddle I later found on the floor where the accident apparently occurred.

Even though Hail was acting normal... jumping on my bed and squealing as he ran naked through the house to avoid having pajamas put on his hiney... I still called our pediatrician, who we trust with all our lives. Recapping all that occurred, she assured me that vomiting was normal with a deep cut, especially in the finger since it has so many nerve endings. "Take a picture of it real quick and send it to me so I can see if it needs attention..." One hour later, Hail had stitches, a numb finger and a dose of Motrin in his system. Poor thing.

"Dr. Pepper" as my kids really do refer to her, sewed away as I held Hail's other arm and legs down, while covering his eyes and trying to keep his head from knocking one of us out. Bert had to press on his hand and keep it still, while holding his thumb where Dr. Pepper could get the stitches in place. It was just at such an awkward position. Not an easy task with a flailing 23 month old. A strong, flailing, animal-like 23 month old. We were all sweating when it was finally over.

We are so blessed to have Dr. Pepper in our lives... and not just for medical favors such as this one. She is such a good friend... the kind that belongs in the last paragraph of this post. Hail even said, "Dank-you." through his sniffles when it was all over. She was worried that their relationship wouldn't be the same. Hail and Dr. P are very close, and love each other very much. They definitely have that surrogate aunt/nephew love flowing. And, I'm quite sure they still will. Especially since every time we're together, she'll do absolutely anything he asks of her then will look at me and say, "What?! He's just so darn cute/sweet/funny, I can't help it." He can get away with anything when she's around.

And, since I promised this would get really gross... here are some pictures:

They really don't do that poor baby justice. He didn't even cry that much, y'all! If you look closely in the top one, you can see a yellowish substance swimming around, which would be FAT. Disgusting.

Oh, I just hope this isn't a sign of more things to come.