they call her 'miss alfredo'.

It was pizza night in the C House last night.

I was excited.

Our pizzas were waiting for us and Carly had just "eaten".

Meaning she had just thrown her pizza on the floor and eaten a few strawberries.

Surprise, surprise, she was still hungry and wanted a Rice Krispy Treat.

She knows right where we keep them.

Up in the top cabinet, behind a bunch of other stuff so she can't see them.

But she knows they are there.

So she stood at the foot of the cabinet, looking up, pointing up.

I came up behind her and reached up into the back of the cabinet to grab a Treat.

The side of my arm bumped a jar of alfredo sauce.

And it made the long fall.

Right onto the eager child's pretty little face.

~

I picked her up right away and held her tight.

Then I looked at her face.

Where I found all sorts of red marks and an impressive gash.

Now I'm the kind of person to avoid doctors at all cost.

But when I saw that gash, I knew she would need to get it checked.

There goes pizza night.

Chris and I respond to tense situations in different ways.

I get down to business and become very logical.

And I all the sudden find everything hilarious and laugh a lot when I shouldn't.

Its a defense mechanism.

Chris gets a little frustrated and really really worried.

Especially when it comes to his little princess.

So he instantly became worried sick.

And I couldn't stop laughing and googled directions to the local hospitals.

~

Of course it was after office hours, so we made our way to the ER.

There are two major hospitals in the area, and one of them is on the verge of a nursing strike, so we opted for the other one.

So did everyone else.

Those around us said the average wait was about 3 1/2 hours.

We were lucky.

Ours was about 2 1/2.

Carly is strong.

She doesn't let anything get her down.

When she is sick she hardly cries or fusses.

And when she had a Frankenstein gash on her face she spent her two hour wait walking around to other waiting room patients saying "Hiiiiiii!".

Many of them made comments about how she was the best behaved in the waiting room.

She definitely handled the situation better than I did.

 We finally got called back to a room.

Can I just say I don't want to be an ER frequenter?

Its a sad place.

But we waited another hour there, in our room.

And I was seriously wishing our TV would show Elmo's World.

The nurse and resident came and checked her out.

They decided to numb the area up so they could clean it out and determine if stitches were required or if they could just use the medical glue they got going on these days.

I was praying for the glue.

Carly is so wiggly and strong, they would have had to knock her out to give her stitches.

It was hard enough getting the numbing stuff on her.

We had to swaddle her tight in a sheet for a half an hour to prevent her from taking it off.

Pure torture for a girl as full of life as she is.

{saddest girl ever.}

 {11 pm at the ER: Carly is tired, Mommy is looking glam}

 The compression from the numbing stuff seemed to work wonders on the gash.

It was an interesting wound.

The jar didn't split her cheek, per se.

You know when a golfer misses the ball and creates a divot and a tuft of grass?

That's what happened to her face.

The jar was the golf club that created the divot-gash and left a tuft of skin at the bottom.

The compression from the numbing stuff seemed to bring the wound together.

And (hallelujah!) they decided the glue would work.

~

This was perhaps the worst part.

The gash had to be cleaned out with saline before the glue could be applied.

This meant Carly had to be held still.

Not an easy task.

It took me, Chris, the nurse, and the resident to hold her down while the doctor did her thing.

Carly was screaming and sweating and bright red and trying with all her might to escape while the doctor squirted the wound repeatedly and then applied the glue.

This is when Chris had to close his eyes.

This is when the tears streamed down my own cheeks.

The nurse asked if I wanted to leave.

But I wasn't about to leave my baby.

A few short, heartbreaking moments, and Carly was up.

Glued back together.

She was drenched in sweat and saline solution.

But she was free.

She smiled and said in a quiet voice: "hiiiiii."

{all better!}

~

After the trauma, the sweet nurse called Carly "Miss Alfredo" and the doctor joked that mommy needs to learn to make alfredo sauce from scratch.

They informed us that since things came together so well, in a year's time you probably won't even be able to see a scar, totally crushing my dreams of Carly someday becoming a famous singer known as "RightEye".

We took our girl home.

Gave her a warm bobby and put her to bed.

Then we ate pizza at 1 am.

Yay for pizza night.