The carnage that has cost me my cool kid card

I believe myself to be one tough gal. I've weathered some storms and come out stronger many times over. Hello, I taught in the ghetto and for awhile took public transportation everyday, until I was mugged but story for another entry. So it is with shame that I tell my tale of how I now must now turn in my bad-ass chick member card. Truth is in certain situations in life I am a real "P" and yesterday's debacle is a perfect example.

June is my identity as a blogger and just like Mrs. Cleaver I have a Beaver, in more ways then one, but I want you to keep a G-rated mind people. Magnus, my son, is a spirited four year old (don't you love the terms people use when they don't want to say your child is buck wild) and he is in constant motion. Much of our days at home are spent nagging his little ass to not run in the house or jump on the couch or any number of ridiculous feats of crazy. Yesterday morning he was on it, bouncing off the walls while I was on the computer when my "I told you so" moment struck. Magnus ran into the living room, jumped on the brick fireplace hearth, and warp speed like tried to jump off but his little foot couldn't keep up and his baby toe paid dearly. He crumpled to the ground, and me thinking he was turning on the dramatics said in my calmest of voices and without removing myself from the computer, "I've told your ass to not play on the fire place."

The cry that emanated from him next was my first clue that he may have a real injury, and the follow up clue that definitely confirmed real injury was the blood pouring from his foot. Of course this was no longer time to play my "told you so" game so I sprang into mommy mode and snatched him from the cream carpet before I had any blood stains to contend with later. (Please I love the area rug almost as much as my children) And here is the moment that I now must hang my head in shame. I took one look at his toe and lost all of my dignity. First off I hate feet and I am probably the only mom alive who looked at her babies' feet and found them to be unattractive. So to see a mutilated toe nail pushed me overboard. Magnus was looking to me for first aid and support and all I did was back away and exclaim how f-ing nasty that baby toe looked.

I folded quicker than a cheap IKEA futon and called my husband to announce that I was out. That's right, he had to leave work and come home to handle the mutilation on our son's appendage. In fact, I could barely put a paper towel around it to stop the bleeding. What a chump! And here's this sweet baby looking at me like can't you grow a pair and help me. I tell him all the time to suck it up, act like a man, and in a crisis situation I do the exact opposite. I believe June would've handled the situation with much more grace than I, fo' sho.

Like my knight in all Auburn gear, my husband arrived and investigated the toe then asked me for a band-aid, and being the mother of two small children I should of course have had such first-aid necessities on the ready, one would assume. But of course I had none, because I wasn't the best of girl scouts since I was only in it for the cookies. Magnus had to make due with the next best thing-gauze wrapped around his toe and foot and secured with a rubber band because of course I was out of tape as well (Please see photo Exhibit A above). I know, I know-what kind of operation am I running? Well obviously not one with any critical supplies or toughness. What the hell, right?

Magnus bounced back well. He and his ghetto-ass bandaged foot watched a movie on my bed and later when I checked on him he had removed the ghettoness and was playing with the barely hanging tough toe nail. OMG I buckled at the knees. He seemed okay with it though and said it was feeling a little better. I was on the phone with my sister at the time because she is a walking accident and has lost a few toe nails in her day when she said I needed to suck it up and tear the toe nail off. Hell to the no, I was not tearing off the nail. Was she nuts? She knows full well my aversion to feet. So the toe nail stayed until again, the man of the house did the deed and tore it off later.

The toe is now utterly disgusting but what is more disgusting is my level of cowardly-downright shameful.