Giving the Finger

Many of you know by now that yesterday Ruby had an accident that required an ambulance trip, several hours in the ER at Regions Hospital, and a cosmetic surgeon/hand specialist. She suffered a finger avulsion while out shopping with her mother, which is the medical term for "getting the end of your finger cut off." (n.b. Do NOT google this term if you are squeamish or vomit easily!) It wasn't totally severed, but rather hanging precariously from a little bit of skin/tissue. I (Melissa) called 911 and Ruby was rushed off while Cecilia and I raced to the hospital in the van. Once there she was medicated for the pain, given x-rays, and then basically watched cartoons until the specialist could come in and repair her finger. It was a long and exhausting day but Ruby was incredibly brave - I suppose this happens when you're in the ER/hospital as frequently as she is - and the Motrin and ice cream have made the aftereffects manageable for Rubes.

As I explained to Adam this morning, I felt calm and in control the whole time yesterday. I did not panic, I spoke calmly and confidently to both of my children throughout the ordeal, made quick decisions, and the three of us took deep breathes together when things were especially scary. I feel really proud of the way I handled the incident, even though I was scared out of my mind. In fact, one of the paramedics even told me I was handling everything exceptionally well. But today, even as a I see Ruby playing (and fighting) with her sister just like it was any other day, I feel like I need to lay down and sob for a few hours to purge my body of the fear and panic that I managed to suppress so well yesterday. The need to keep one's children safe and protected is a powerful thing that I know all parents feel, and when that becomes even the least bit threatened it can be deeply upsetting.

Thankfully she will be fine (though she might never grow a fingernail again), and I will be fine, and if this is the worst thing that happens to us in 2010 then we've still got it pretty damn good. And the fact that it's New Year's Eve and we have several bottles of champagne chilling in the fridge just makes it that much easier...

Morning Glory

My girls are all kinds of crazy and I'm often telling them to stop jumping on the furniture, running with knives, and swinging from the chandeliers. But in the morning, when they first wake up, they both have the sweetest faces and softest voices and it never fails -- they always say, "Good morning, Mommy" in a way that makes me melt with the cuteness of it all.

For a few seconds it is calm and peaceful. And then the chaos begins.

Owoooooooooo.

So Cici did such a great job selling crap for her school fundraiser that she was rewarded with a free ticket to a Minnesota Timberwolves game. (And thanks to all of you who bought from her.) She and I went together, and it was a truly special night out with a special kid. She ate so much cotton candy that she looked like a pink-bearded Santa Claus at one point, she followed the game action throughout at least as well as I did, and by the end she was even referring to the players by their first names. (E.g., "Why are they taking Al out?"). And of course her favorite part was the howling (Wolves fans howl to psych out the other team when it's their turn to shoot a free throw.) We stayed out a bit later than her bedtime, but it's hard to imagine a better way to spend a Friday night. Thanks, Cici.

Answer: Six Minutes.

Question: Approximately how long did Cici and Ruby laugh when the narrator on PBS's Nature said "brown booby" last night?

Nerd Girl

Ruby recently found a pair of reading glasses that she insisted on wearing, so Auntie Sarah popped out the lenses and let her have at it. She's been wearing them constantly ever since. To be fair, she does have nerd parents, so she was already destined for a look like this someday, but it's still pretty adorable for now.

In other Ruby news, she and her sister were fighting this morning because Ruby put one of Cecilia's toys in the hinder section of her underwear, and she's taken to random (but seriously loud) belching. Oh, and she continues to manhandle the cats on a daily basis. Her teenage years are going to KICK. OUR. BUTTS.

Old School

Today, after cleaning and laundry and volunteering at Open Arms, I greeted my oldest daughter at the front door with a hug and then offered her milk and freshly-baked cookies. It all felt very June Cleaver.

Yes, Virginia, Cecilia and Ruby's mom rules. (But she's also a feminist, so let's not get carried away.)

Clarification.

[Ruby has her mouth full of shredded wheat at breakfast.]

Ruby: Juhu shink I shul leave the scooper dowstairs?

Dadam: Ruby, do you have food in your mouth?

Ruby: No, breakfast.

Do You Smell That?

Today when Cecilia came home from school I greeted her at the front door. As we went inside I said, "How was your day?" To which she responded, "Good. You smell like prunes."

The Mayor of Mexico.

Last night Momlissa had class, so Ruby and Cici and I managed dinner for ourselves. Cici decided that she and I would be operating a restaurant, with Ruby as the customer. At first Ruby wasn't thrilled with this idea - she wanted to help in the kitchen herself - but we solved that by designating her "the Mayor of Mexico," a rich and important diner visiting from a faraway land. (She really laid it on thick, too, speaking in a very distinguished voice and informing us that city business in Mexico is "very well," that there are "a lot of good things on my desk," and that in Mexico pasta sauce is sweeter and known as "sweet camiko.") Quite the international rendesvous.