I wish I were writing about how awesome my birthday was last week (not to diminish the wonderfulness of my husband who spoiled me rotten!), but sadly my birthday was overshadowed by another event.
The breaking of my finger.
A week and a day ago I (stupidly I now know) put Jackson to bed without a bottle. He went down without a hitch but awoke the next morning in a feeding frenzy. He absolutely did not want Cheerios or a banana - he wanted a bottle - and PRONTO! I quickly made one and shoved it in his mouth ASAP.
Now keep in mind this is before 8 am and my brain does not work properly until around 10ish.
As I am walking to the living room, feeding baby in arms, I trip over the alphabet train. Now, I would've been able to catch myself (at least I like to think that), but said alphabet train has 26 alphabet blocks in its caboose, which went flying right in my stumbling path. As I was trying to catch my balance I am stepping on the A, M, Q...etc. I then realize, I'm going down hard...face first. Oh...and I'm holding my child!
I quickly launched the bottle across the room (sending Jackson into a blind rage) and threw my hand down - just in time to catch myself and Jackson before he hit the floor - and rolled us both over. Thankfully, the only damage done to Jackson was his sudden realization of hunger again. My poor finger was not so lucky.
Bryan was still home and came running in to see me rocking back and forth repeating, "I broke my finger, I broke my finger," and Jackson still screaming on the floor. After a full belly and full examination, Jackson was fine and I initiated the process of trying to convince myself that my finger was not, in fact, broken, just jammed.
The next morning, it was clear by the sight of my poor finger (resembling a multi-colored sausage) that it was, indeed, broken, and a couple hours later an x-ray confirmed it.
So, now I'm stuck with my right, middle finger (the broken one) and my ring finger taped together and splinted. And, who knows for how long? The doctor wouldn't say.
Bryan says this seriously hinders my communication with him. :)
Did I mention I'm right handed? Do you know how hard it is to change poopie diapers when half of your hand is rendered useless?
On the bright side, as my cousin pointed out, I saved my son's life. Apparently, I'm a hero...