A Funny Story
A funny story. Why "funny?" Because we have to laugh about these things, or else we would cry.
On Saturday night we invited some our oldest friends over for lantern making and a marsh walk. They were bringing chili, I was providing the toppings and dessert, and it was going to be a great way to end winter break.
Except, most of our eleven combined children could not handle a twenty-six minute walk in twenty degree weather. Coats, of course, have been canceled for the foreseeable future; I'm convinced one child doesn't even know how to put on gloves, while another wears shorts all year round. So off we trudge, with a complaint being uttered about once a minute. My youngest daughter started screaming half way through because her hands were so cold, and walking at her pace - with her hands in my gloves - meant not talking to my friend. The only one whose seemed to enjoy the marsh meandering was our dog Annie.
Unfortunately however, Annie's tail caught a few burrs and upon our return home, she took matters into her own... paws, and tried chewing them off. I'm making biscuits to eat with the chili, my friend Becky is mashing the avocados, and I turn around to see blood flying haphazardly in every direction of our kitchen.
What was happening???
Annie, in her compulsion to remove the burrs, bit a gash into her tail. Her mouth was now covered in blood, her tail was flinging blood in every direction as it wagged, and we were meant to be eating in twenty minutes.
I called for my oldest daughter (who cares deeply for Annie), had her sit with a rag over her tail, and my husband started to clean up the blood with chlorine dioxide - a chemical spray he helped perfect at his last job. (Chemical engineers are so cool.)
I went back to the biscuits, Becky resumed avocado chopping, and then Annie vomited. She had eaten some of the burrs apparently, and now there was a pool of bloody vomit in the middle of the kitchen floor. We could not stay ahead of the mess.
Annie went to her room (where she painted those walls with blood), we put a cone of shame on her to prevent further biting of her tail, and I cleaned up the puddle. Before I could even return to the biscuits, she vomited again.
WE WERE NEVER GOING TO EAT. My friend's husband stood in the kitchen doorway looking absolutely shocked by the unfolding events. I asked him to head to the living room (poor guy), cleaned up the second puddle, and scrubbed my hands and arms in scalding water before returning - once again - to the biscuits.
In the meantime, kids were wandering in and out of our bombshell of a kitchen asking when we were going to eat, because not only had they gotten frostbite on our walk, but now they were apparently starving to death.
You can't make this stuff up. If these friends of ours hadn't known us for so long, I think they would have left and eaten some fast food on their way home. And if I'm being honest, I might have went with them.
