I ran into a friend of mine the other day that I hadn't seen for a while and got to talking about how busy life is. She mentioned something about me not getting any sleep, because of young kids. I smugly said "Oh, I don't have to get up with kids anymore." I know.
Let the games begin!
Two nights ago, Zoey decided to take her "sniffles" and turn them into the flu. We were up all night with her puking all over the place. And she's still young enough, that she can't really tell us when she's going to throw up. So, yeah, that was fun.
Last night, we went to bed, thinking we were going to get a great night's sleep. Not so much. Regan had an ortho appointment, yesterday. She had one last molar to lose and it was very loose, so the dentist popped it out of her mouth. She kept complaining all evening that it wouldn't stop bleeding. We didn't pay much attention, because it really wasn't bleeding all that bad. At about 2:48 am (yes, I looked) Regan came rushing into our bedroom yelling about how something was wrong. We turned on the light to find the most gigantic blood clot in her mouth! It had to be the size of a nickel. It took us an hour to wash her off and get the bleeding to stop. She had just gotten a rubber band on her braces and it was hooked to the tooth right in front of the one pulled and I think the pressure of the band pulling the tooth away from the empty place just really made it hard for the area to heal.
It occurred to me as Scott and I were trying to get back to sleep, what I had said days earlier. I confessed my sin to Scott, who groaned and muttered, "Thanks a lot."
I really wish I had knocked on wood. I'm not all that superstitious, but I would have liked a little extra ammo against Murphy and his stupid Law's.
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