On an day of this week which shall remain unnamed lest it live on in infamy, I cut off the tip of Scarlette's thumb while clipping her nails.
I didn't nick it like you know EVERY MOTHER WHO HAS EVER CUT THEIR INFANT'S NAILS. Oh no. I cut her. If I felt at all humorous about this situation, I'd have used the opportunity to go all "Girl, I. will. cut. you." a la Bon Qui Qui in my title. Or perhaps "Just a flesh wound." The possibilities are endless and opportunities like that don't come around very often in a lifetime. Unless you are me and you maim your only child. You know, whatevs.
I knew right away that it was bad but I held a compress on it for a few minutes before I called the doctor. When that didn't stop the bleeding, I totally lost my ever loving mind. I'm not supposed to take Scarlette to the ER if I don't absolutely have to. When we go to one of our batrillion doctor appointments, we're ushered right into a quarantine room so that we don't have to sit in a waiting room with other kids. I like to pretend I'm a total VIP as I walk in and am taken straight back while the rest of the people in there are saying things like "we've been waiting an HOUR!" For what it's worth, I have to wait forever in the quarantine room and it's always freaking freezing in there. But I digress. Digression is my thing.
I call the doctor to see if they can fix her up so that I can avoid the ER because I'm certain she needs stitches. OH. MY. GOSH. And I'm crying because see all of the above. The sweet nurse is trying to calm me down and telling me that it's probably just fine and that everyone nicks their baby when cutting their nails for the first time.
This is where I break in and tell her that I've been cutting Scarlette's nails since she weighed two pounds and her nails were the size of ants. Tiny little baby ants. I also tell her about that time that Scarlette's vein blew and I had to hold a tourniquet on it and THAT STOPPED BLEEDING and this? This is not. And she's all "Okay, so you better come on in."
They ended up putting six (SIX!) little steristrips on her thumb to close the wound. And it turns out that I'm totally amazing in a crisis UNLESS I CAUSE THE CRISIS. Then I do things like call my husband at his new job hysterically sobbing "I CUT OFF THE BABY'S FINGER!" to which my rational husband kept saying "Honey, it has to be a physical impossibility to cut off her finger with baby clippers" to which I would like to say, yes, YOU WOULD THINK SO, WOULDN'T YOU.
Safety clippers my arse.
I guess the only positive thing that has come out of this whole thing is that Scarlette will be appearing in the next Guinness Book Of World Records. Because I am never. cutting. her. nails. again.
I know what you're going to say. That I need to "get back on the horse" or whatever the phrase is. But I'm pretty sure what I just did completely invalidates it.
Scarlette is totally fine, minus the fact that she keeps trying to gnaw through the mittens on her hands to get the bandage off. Here's a picture of her to prove it. I'm can't believe I'm even posting this, except that I am kind of hoping many of you will comment to tell me that you've done much, much worse so that I don't feel like the worst. mother. ever.
