Just a bit accident prone

So I've come to the conclusion that the Blackmun girls tend to be just a bit accident prone. I certainly gave my parents a run for their money as a child. I had countless stitches, several broken bones, and way too many knee surgeries for any one person under the age of 15. And Paige seems to be following in her momma's footsteps, poor girl. This picture was taken last month after she pulled one of our bar stools over on top of her head. The goose egg she got after that fiasco was something to behold. (This picture was over a week later) She is one tough little cookie. But this Monday was a different story. We were up at the outlets at Park City doing some Christmas shopping and she was sitting happily in the stroller, drinking her bottle. I shut the dressing room door while I was trying on a t-shirt and Owen thought it would be really funny to open it while I was taking off said t-shirt. I thought it was not so funny and tried to shut the door while he was pushing it open. Little did I know, Paige had stuck her tiny little thumb in the opposite side of the door that I was pushing closed. The outcome was not pretty. In fact it was rather horrifying. The door had completely smashed her thumb flat the wrong way and it was bleeding from under her fingernail. We rushed out and ended up driving all the way to Primary Children's after searching for a hospital that actually had an x-ray machine in Park City. An hour later we were finally there and she had finally stopped crying. I hadn't. In fact Owen told the triage nurse that his mommy cried the whole way from Park City. She told him that mommies were allowed to cry too, especially when their babies were hurt. He didn't have a response for that one. I just felt so horrible and she looked so horrible and overall it was just, well, horrible. So, to make this terribly drawn out story a bit shorter, they x-rayed her hand and she did indeed have a broken thumb. They had to burn a hole in her fingernail to allow the blood and fluid to drain. She hated all of it. I don't blame her. Almost 5 hours later, our nurse, Miss Utah, (no seriously, our nurse was Miss Utah) finally released us and we went to the pharmacy to get her antibiotic. On the way we pass by a little boy, about the same age as Paige, who was walking down the hallway with his Grandpa, attached to his IV and drip line, in a tiny little hospital gown. And all the sudden I was hit with a wall of perspective. So, my baby may be a bit accident prone. But looking at the big picture, a broken thumb is really not all that bad. It makes me feel bad, worse than bad, but it will go away. She will heal, life will go on, and she will live it. And I will get to watch. And I will love every moment of her. And I will never slam a door ever again. The End.