Point Break

No, not this Point Break . . .

But rather, that one time I thought I broke my pointer finger. Ultimate teaser, though. I apologize.

Back to the story:

The following events occurred this past Saturday.

It all began in what we all believed would be a very fine evening. We finally got into St. Louis to use our Schlafly Brewery Air Force Ball door prize. We went to the Taphouse downtown. The atmosphere was great, the food was delish, and the little guy even managed to behave himself for a small, but significant portion of our visit.

The real drama occurred on the our drive home, which I can only describe of the most bizarre turn of events that occurred in quite some time in this oddly documented life of ours.

I thought it like any other ride in the car. Will was screaming his head off. (The baby, not the husband.) Just informing us of his continued disliking for the car seat.

I was doing like any other mom who'd given up trying to entertain a baby fed up with his car seat. I did my best to ignore his cries and took to biting my fingernails as a coping mechanism. But like any clean freak mother, I wasn't just going to toss fingernails in the back seat of the car, so I did the old crack-the-window-just-a-bit to let her fly. You know. You just crack the window the teeeeniest bit, and the wind sucks the nail right on out of the car.

Well, I misjudged. And I rolled the window back up onto the tip of my finger.

I swore I felt my finger snap in half at the tip, and when I rolled the window back down, got my finger dislodged and saw the blood, I proceeded to FAINT. That's right. I went UNCONSCIOUS in the back seat of the car while baby Will screamed at the top of his lungs and husband Will, screamed over top of the screaming baby Will, cried out my name in an effort to determine whether I was, you know, conscious and okay and would live.

When I came to, I responded that no, I don't think I will survive this, but do go ahead and keep driving.

And then I almost vomited. The end.

Will admitted that he was only thinking of himself during the entire ordeal. You see, he had a similar point break episode whilst choosing to buy this particular ladder:

during a particular episode of his particular wife's pregnant nesting.

We were at Lowe's buying painting supplies and he accidentally sliced his finger open folding the ladder shut. His face turned white and he said he felt lightheaded. I IMMEDIATELY told him to sit down for a second to collect himself, but he tried to play it cool and walk it off . . .

THAT particular story ended up with his hugely 7-months pregnant wife, with the athleticism of an NFL offensive lineman, pinning him up against additional Lowe's merchandise in order to catch his fall. Those two years I spent playing tackle football finally came in handy in this game called life.

And then he almost vomited. The end.

The worst part is that I literally thought the damage to my finger had been CATASTROPHIC. Instead, all I have to show for my intense pain and suffering is what looks like your average unmanicured housewife's hangnail:

Oh well, at least it wasn't for a booger.