If laughter is the best medicine, then who's the idiot who claims he 'died laughing'?

Today's regularly scheduled post is briefly interrupted by our Inaugural Trip to the ER..........

I have always said that Anjali would be the one to send us to ER - she is our daredevil, our climber, whereas Arun is our little Apprentice Granny.

So. This morning, I packed our lunches for our planned trip to the zoo, got the kids dressed, then headed upstairs to take a shower. After the shower, I was getting dressed when I heard Arun begin to cry. I went downstairs to investigate and found Arun clutching his hand with a fair amount of blood all over the place. Apparently, Anjali cut his hand with a pair of scissors, although admittedly, the details are, shall we say, a bit sketchy. While I mentally rehearsed the speech for my inevitable Mother of the Year award (I rock, y'all), I attempted to clean the wound and figure out the extent of injury. Arun was having none of it.

I took a long, long swig of the Better Safe Than Sorry Koolaid, packed up the kids and headed to the hospital. Two hours later, with Arun's thumb safely ensconced in a fancy BandAid and our bank account $100 lighter, we were on our way out. Yes, it was a complete and utter waste of time and money. I have never been more grateful.

I did Tweet a bit about the ordeal. You may ask, "Why?" and I would respond, "Why not?" Out of two hours, we saw the doctor, nurses, staff, etc. for a grand total of 20 minutes, which meant we had 100 minutes left to our own devices. The kids were beyond excited to be seeing doctors! and the hospital! and chairs with wheels! and the castle! in the waiting area and Spongebob! on the television. Conversely, I was bored to tears. It did not help that after about 10 minutes into the whole thing I realized that Arun was fine, just fine, but it seems once you get on the ER Rollercoaster, there ain't no getting off the thing until the carnie with the questionable background check and mullet lets you off.

Regularly Scheduled Post, Painstakingly Typed Sunday Evening

Just a reminder - I am trying to reply to comments more often via email. I can only do this if I have an email address. I know, Gmail is sort of a bitch in that way.

This past weekend, I invited my grandma, her siblings and their children with their children over for a lunch (again, people - if you are not making Average Jane's Baked Ziti with Roasted Vegetables for your next family gathering, you have no one but yourself to blame for not clicking that damned link already. The dish was such a success I had to print copies of the recipe that day so folks could head out the door with it because they did not trust me to email it later.)

So, a good time was had by all. As the children ran amuck, the adults sat and reminisced. My cousin M brought his new baby girl (his 3rd child) and several times, folks tried to get me to hold the baby. You know, since X and I only have TWO children, it is our job to provide the next baby for everyone to pass around. I had to admit, though - I am not comfortable with other people's children. Period*. Even family members. In my defense, as I explained that I really prefer children from the age of 6 months to 6 years and thereafter, I am at a complete loss, my cousin M nodded his own head vigorously because he understood. And natch, I do not believe he ever held my children when they were little rubberneckers.

Anyway, it was a great time - I definitely intend to host more of these little shindigs. I loved being able to open my home to so many of my relatives at once. It was a small gathering and there were still easily over 20 of us. We rarely all get together at once these days - because of the sheer number of us (50+), it is difficult to squeeze us all into one location. It appears my house is large enough to accommodate all of us and I am more than happy to do so.

*One exception: Chocolate Covered Susan's son. I LOVE HIM. I want to steal him - he is blonde, blue-eyed and would complement my children's coloring PERFECTLY.