My Knife Fight...

... with a gang of robbers. By which I mean a potato.

Annnyway, I was prepping some sweet potatoes for this tasty soup I was going to make, and as Luke has pointed out countless times, my veggie cutting technique needs a helluvalot of practice.

Case in point: This time when I sliced my thumb nearly all the way through. 'This time' meaning yesterday.

As soon as I saw how deep it was I RAN out of the room yelling for Luke and I believe the conversation went a lot like this:

"Luke, I've cut my thumb and I'm pretty sure I need stitches but I cannot look at it. Please don't make me look at. I seriously cannot look at it. I'm going to die." Dramatic.

So he guided me over to the sink and washed it off and it was at this point that my vision went a lot a bit white and the blood in my head sort of went away. But I did NOT pass out.

That's 1 for the knife. And 1 for me. Bam.

All the while Finn thought the blood that had gotten everywhere was pretty cool and I hazily remember him touching it. But soon we were in the car and then at the instacare place and guess who happens to walk in right after me?

That's right! A guy who cut his thumb with A CHAIN SAW.

Way to upstage me, jerk.

And yadda yadda yadda, I got some pretty manly stitches and the doctor was super nice (he said I seemed like a pretty good mom. Damn straight.) and we all got to go to Wendy's for dinner and everyone rejoiced because they didn't have to eat my healthy soup.

And hopefully you haven't just eaten dinner because here is the damage:

That shit is gnarly. 

There is literally, no other way to put it.

And as an update the thumb is still attached but it hurts because Isla keeps finding the bandage and squeezing it. Rude. And Nick's not even here to help. Rude-r. I'm also pretty excited about the scar that is going come of this bad boy.

Before and After: Landscape Edition

We're the DIY Warriors over at this house. Are you ready for it? You better be, because here it is.

Before:

Seriously, this is pretty effing close to what it looked like.

After:

Right?! Amazing (and look at that fine lookin' dog).

When we moved in, the back part of the fence had a half built wall going across at, and about 30 metric tons of gravel just hanging out and being groovy. There was also pile of bricks in the corner that went half way up the fence.

So that was cool.

The back corner had no grass whatsoever, and a huge pile of salt in the middle of it. 

Salt. About 10 gallons of it. Yep.

So we slowly got rid of all that crazy business, put grass seed down and then mulched the hell out of the back part and (as you can see) planted a beautiful array of shubbery.

Shrubbery. Like a boss.

I threw in two Japanese Maples and fellas, we've got ourselves a garden.

Right now I'm riding on that "We Did It!" high, but come talk to me in a week when I'm weeding  for two hours a day.

And while we're at it, here's the front of the house. We redid a lot of the garden there, too but its not as noticeable. We also have a little corner garden in the front that I can never get in the frame that I also did a lot of work on. 

But since I'm toooooo lazy to take a better picture, it's my secret garden. Yep, just like the book:

Take It Easy

So, when you're the mothership in a crazy nut-house like this one, there are days when things go so totally wrong it makes you want to run out the door only because you know that if someone looked inside and saw all the shennanigans inside they'd totally understand and not judge you.

Ahem.

Take the other day for example. I set Isla down in her crib sans diaper.

Worst. Mistake. Of. My. Life.

Finn alerted me to the problem after I had left the room for a quick moment and I came back to find her lovely (white) crib, lovely pink blanket AND lovely face covered in poo.

And everything else in the vicinity too, it seemed.

And then Luke came home and was all concerned because Jussi had gotten out and was strolling her bad self around the neighborhood and I had failed to notice.

When he saw the disaster zone he smartly let that one slide.

And then there was today. By 10am I had quickly and thoroughly convinced myself that I was, in fact, the worst mother ever.

Worse than Medea (nope, I take that back. Madea? Of the Tyler Perry variety? Only slightly better).

Finn was hitting and kicking everything, person and dog in sight. Isla was yelling at me and I didn't know why. I was yelling at everyone and didn't know why.

It was uncool, man.

And just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I had just spent 10 minutes putting Isla to bed only to come out and see that Finn had disappeared. When I called him all I heard was, 'I'm pooping!' and I hung my head in shame thinking I was about to come upon a disaster akin to the one previously mentioned.

But alas, no. He was on the toilet. All of his own, smart, mature accord.

And the heavens opened and the angels sang and handed me a well-deserved Diet Coke.

And was like, 'Thanks, angels. I needed that."

And then he took a nap. And then we went shopping. And I saved $30. And some lady gave my mom her $10 off coupon to Old Navy. And we got cookies. And 'pleases' and 'thank you's' were said.

And then we got home and Finn disappeared again only to be found en toilet once again on his own, doing the #2 thing.

And now I feel pretty awesome. And to solidify that easy, peaceful feeling I think I'll go eat a muffin and listen to the Eagles. Duh. 

So, with no further adieu a picture of Isla being awesome (and not covered in her own poo):