Holding out

Okay, internets, I'm coming clean. I've been holding out on you (and no, not with a surprise pregnancy announcement--I'm done 'birthin' babies' over here)...remember back when D had the febrile seizure/911/PICU pneumonia thing at the end of December? Yeah, back then. She was discharged on January 1st (happy new year!).

Remember how A and I were supposed to go to NYC in early January for a little adult R&R? I dropped the subject after that so that y'all wouldn't flame me for still going despite the recent drama at hand. So, two days after my wee one was discharged home, A and I were on a plane northward bound, sans kiddos.

Now before you go nominating me for mother of the year, let me just say that I spoke with D's attending physician upon learning she was going to be discharged and asked what his opinion was about the trip. He was all for us taking it, said that he didn't anticipate that she would have any more problems (if so, he said, they wouldn't have been discharging her)...and so, we went, leaving the girls in the very competent (and CPR/first aid-certified) care of my MIL for four glorious days.

The doctor was right, we needed that trip to regroup and reconnect, not to mention get our fill of delicious food (BG--Osso Buco was the best Italian meal I've had outside of those in Italy, and Orchard Corset? boobs up to proper position once again) and such.

Now, you may be asking yourselves why I'm bringing this up now. Well, here's the thing: on our last night in NY, we stopped for a few quick drinks at M!ckey M@ntle's on Central Park South before heading back to our hotel. When I went to use the restroom, the door slammed shut much harder than I intended and I attempted to stop it. And stop it I did...with my left middle finger. As in smushed, completely, in the door jamb. As in instantly black and blue fingernail. As in, now, almost three months later, that nail is finally falling off.

My final 'souvenir' of our NYC trip, gone.