Recently Jessa has learned to undo her diaper and try to 'help' while I'm changing her. Its rather annoying so I thought I'd try smacking her hand lightly and saying no sternly. Guess what, saying no to Jessa is really funny.
Jessa was poopy the other night and while I was changing her she thought she could help. So I was trying to get her to move her hand away while Stephen was trying to encourage her to laugh about me telling her no. After I got her all cleaned up Stephen was still trying to encourage her to laugh when I say no. So I threw the dirty diaper at his face. Yes this may have been slightly over the top but he had been teasing me all afternoon and trying to talk me into going to Gerties for dinner. Teaching jessa to laugh was just enough to push me over the edge. He wasn't to impressed with the diaper in his face and went on how he wasn't raised that way blah blah blah and threw it back at me. I wasn't fased though and just threw it right back in his face. After the second time he got the hint to throw the diaper away. (That was all I wanted anyway.) Stephen not only was going to throw away the diaper, but he decided to shoot the diaper from the fridge to the trash can, all the way across the room and behind the counter. (Now this part I'm only guessing because Jessa was still naked and I was attending to her.) As he got ready to shoot he was trying to get just the right aim. He jumped back a little and caught his foot on the heater vent. I got up really quick after finishing strapping the diaper on. To see what Stephen had done.
At this time I think I need to state that I have this terrible rude habit. I'm not sure how to break it. I laugh hysterically whenever some one gets hurt around me. Its insanely inappropriate and I feel really bad but I do it every time with out fail. I don't even have to think about it I just bust up. So as Stephen is yelling about his foot I'm walking over laughing at him already asking if he needs stitches. His foot was already gushing as he told me yes to the stitches. I calmly (while still laughing) went to the cupboard and got gause and a wrap and yelled at him to get off the carpet. Good thinking on my part;-) After getting his foot all wrapped up he said let's hurry up and get this stitched up so we can go to Gerties. At this point I was thinking, "Did my husband really cut his foot open just to eat out?"
I think its time for another side story. In my entire twenty-two years of life I have had stitches twice. Once at five, all the other little kids jumped in the shallow end of the pool so I thought I I'd try one day. I jumped and then bail at the last second, and turned around to grab the edge smaking my chin on the edge of the pool. I'm not exactly sure how many stitches I got but I can still feel the bumpy scar. The second time was child birth. Enough said. Stephen on the other hand has had stitches and stapes many many times. I actually just asked him how many times he's had stitches and he said "I don't know a dozen or so times, its been so many times I can't keep count." To put it into more prespective I've know stephen for three and a half years and in that time he has had stapels in his abdomen, had to have his finger glued cause there wasn't enough skin left to stitch, and had stitches in his foot. Which leads me back to the story.
I have no idea when some one needs stitches. so I thought maybe Stephen was over reacting and didn't really need to go see a dr. Just a bandage for a few day and he'd be all better. No aperently it makes you a bad wife for doughting the severity of your husbands wound from throwing away a diaper. He said " come on I've already paid my copay at quick care." Well lucky us.
End of the story is Stephen came out of quick care with five stitches, he got to go to Gerties for dinner, and when we finally got home I picked the diaper up and safely threw it away. Also now that its been ten days (I'm super slow about blogging) I still giggle a little thinking about it and Stephen learned next time he doesn't have to go in to get his stitches out. The doctor started doing it and stephen asked if he could and the doctor said yeah you could have just done it at home.
Jessa was poopy the other night and while I was changing her she thought she could help. So I was trying to get her to move her hand away while Stephen was trying to encourage her to laugh about me telling her no. After I got her all cleaned up Stephen was still trying to encourage her to laugh when I say no. So I threw the dirty diaper at his face. Yes this may have been slightly over the top but he had been teasing me all afternoon and trying to talk me into going to Gerties for dinner. Teaching jessa to laugh was just enough to push me over the edge. He wasn't to impressed with the diaper in his face and went on how he wasn't raised that way blah blah blah and threw it back at me. I wasn't fased though and just threw it right back in his face. After the second time he got the hint to throw the diaper away. (That was all I wanted anyway.) Stephen not only was going to throw away the diaper, but he decided to shoot the diaper from the fridge to the trash can, all the way across the room and behind the counter. (Now this part I'm only guessing because Jessa was still naked and I was attending to her.) As he got ready to shoot he was trying to get just the right aim. He jumped back a little and caught his foot on the heater vent. I got up really quick after finishing strapping the diaper on. To see what Stephen had done.
At this time I think I need to state that I have this terrible rude habit. I'm not sure how to break it. I laugh hysterically whenever some one gets hurt around me. Its insanely inappropriate and I feel really bad but I do it every time with out fail. I don't even have to think about it I just bust up. So as Stephen is yelling about his foot I'm walking over laughing at him already asking if he needs stitches. His foot was already gushing as he told me yes to the stitches. I calmly (while still laughing) went to the cupboard and got gause and a wrap and yelled at him to get off the carpet. Good thinking on my part;-) After getting his foot all wrapped up he said let's hurry up and get this stitched up so we can go to Gerties. At this point I was thinking, "Did my husband really cut his foot open just to eat out?"
I think its time for another side story. In my entire twenty-two years of life I have had stitches twice. Once at five, all the other little kids jumped in the shallow end of the pool so I thought I I'd try one day. I jumped and then bail at the last second, and turned around to grab the edge smaking my chin on the edge of the pool. I'm not exactly sure how many stitches I got but I can still feel the bumpy scar. The second time was child birth. Enough said. Stephen on the other hand has had stitches and stapes many many times. I actually just asked him how many times he's had stitches and he said "I don't know a dozen or so times, its been so many times I can't keep count." To put it into more prespective I've know stephen for three and a half years and in that time he has had stapels in his abdomen, had to have his finger glued cause there wasn't enough skin left to stitch, and had stitches in his foot. Which leads me back to the story.
I have no idea when some one needs stitches. so I thought maybe Stephen was over reacting and didn't really need to go see a dr. Just a bandage for a few day and he'd be all better. No aperently it makes you a bad wife for doughting the severity of your husbands wound from throwing away a diaper. He said " come on I've already paid my copay at quick care." Well lucky us.
End of the story is Stephen came out of quick care with five stitches, he got to go to Gerties for dinner, and when we finally got home I picked the diaper up and safely threw it away. Also now that its been ten days (I'm super slow about blogging) I still giggle a little thinking about it and Stephen learned next time he doesn't have to go in to get his stitches out. The doctor started doing it and stephen asked if he could and the doctor said yeah you could have just done it at home.
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