All other blog ideas went out the window last night when LittleMan decided to fall on the floor like a drunken lumberjack. Instant blood. Shrill screams. Likely broken nose. We therefore spent the evening at the ER trying to avoid standing next to the hacking and groaning members of the H1N1 U.N. Having a cute child with masses of bloody wads of tissue helps bypass some of the wait time, but I still feel like I need to huff a can of Lysol.
Diagnosis? Likely lateral fracture down the center of his nose. Follow up with a specialist in a few days when the swelling has subsided.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
So, for those of you who haven't been counting:
- Hubbie's bike was stolen from the train station
- I've got lingering bronchitis and a sinus infection
- Our car broke down last week and left us without transportation for four days
- LittleMan breaks his nose last night
Tomorrow? Doesn't seem to look any brighter. If judging by today's antics are any indication, the next two weeks are going to be hell. What part of don't run in the fucking house is hard to understand? Or don't wave the sword? Don't throw the book? Don't swing your arms? If I didn't think my kids would rat me out, I would be tempted to tie his ass to the bed and keep him immobilized until his nose healed.
To say things have been a bit of a clusterfuck would be an understatement. At least Hubbie got a cool SARS mask out of the deal.