Blood, herpes and nails... not in that order

My poor mom had a hell of a weekend. Saturday, she was tearing up carpet in one of the upstairs rooms with a box cutter. She was doing small sections at a time 'cuz, you know, that shit's heavy. At one point, the box cutter slipped and sliced up her arm. (I forgot to look at the damage today and scold her) It sounds like it was a pretty nasty cut and she probably should've went to see if it needed stitches but the women of our family come from a very stubborn stock. We'd just as soon have a scar, be in a little pain than take our asses to a hospital, sit in a waiting room full of sick and/or crazy people and finally, after four hours of sitting with said crazy people, you get taken back for a five minute stitch and a band aid. Onto Sunday, she was out getting ready to feed the horses or do something with those big knuckle headed animals, when she stepped on a board. On top of the board was some shingles. Sticking out of the board was a nail. A sharp, pissed off nail. He went straight through my mom's foot to the point that you can actually see where it touched the skin on the top half. And yes, she had shoes on. It's a good thing the shingles were sitting on the board or else she would've had to pull the nail and board off her foot. The shingles weighed everything down and when she lifted her foot to continue her step, the nail came out. It still gives me the heeby jeebies just thinking about it. She goes to Medpoint, as it was a Sunday and like I said before, we don't like the ER. Unfortunately, it sounds like she got a doctor who had just plain had enough that weekend. He didn't do anything for her or give her anything. Not even a Tylenol 3 for shit's sake. I bitched about that point more than she did. She thought she might be able to force herself to go into work today... with no pain medication... with a hole in her foot. Yeah we were donkeys in a past life. However, when she woke up for work at 3am, it became immediately evident that there would be no work. My brother actually had to carry her back to bed after she called in sick. She made an appointment at our regular doctor's office where they actually took some time to look at her foot. She had xrays and a note saying no more work for a week. They gave her a tetanus shot (or was that at Medpoint? I don't remember), antibiotics (which was a damn good thing because she's running a fever now) and enough vicodin to make a junkie cry tears of joy. Turns out she nicked a tendon when the nail went in, which is why moving her toes in any way at all is terribly painful. I figure while she's off work we'll take up jogging, go shopping and do some step aerobics.

I stopped and picked up a cat cage from another foster today for when we have showings. You should never, ever tell me I can't or shouldn't do something by myself. I will nod my head and agree but the second I'm out of sight, I will do it on my own. (did I mention I come from stubborn women?) We didn't have time to set up the cage when we got home. And then Shawn went to bed. The cage was not up and I hate leaving things undone. Even though I was told that it was a two person job, I went ahead and tried to set it up myself. I have a blood blister but it's up. Take THAT cat cage!

Evan over the last week or so has decided he will not go to bed unless he is sitting up. You know, god forbid he miss me typing some boring shit on here. As soon as he could sit up really well, he decided that sleeping was for cats, not babies. Every night is a fight to get him to sleep. I want to lay him down, have him fall asleep and be done with it. He wants to sit up until his eyes can't stay open any longer. However, he's on the verge of crawling (he can caterpillar it pretty far as of today) therefore, I have to keep him on my lap or risk him wiggling right onto the floor. Which means, every other word I type comes out like t/zh/is and I have to backspace, pull his hands off the keys and take a deep breath to keep from duct taping his hands together, then to his torso. Someone explain to me why my maternal clock says 'Hey why not have another one in a year or two?! It'll be FUN." Fun like what? Herpes? Jock itch? Seriously how effed is my clock??