May Blogging Challenge, Day 1 & 2

I ran across a blogging challenge today, and I think I'm going to try it out! I have to write a little bit about myself every day in May. You know I love talking about myself, and I know you love hearing about me! I kid, I kid!
I missed the first day, so I'll be doing two days in one today! Woo!

May 1st: The story of your life in 250 words.
Sheesh. 250 words? Here's the deal. I'm going to shoot for a short paragraph, and no one out there is going to count my words. Capisce? Here goes:

I was born in Tulsa, OK, on April 6th, 1987. Soon after, my mom, dad, two older sisters and I moved to LaGrange, IN, my dad's hometown. I wasn't the baby for long, as 18 months later, my younger sister was born. Soon after that, we moved to Broken Arrow, OK. I went to Broken Arrow Schools, all the way to graduation, and traveled to BYU in Provo, UT for college. After 2 years of struggling, I decided to move home, and go to school in Tulsa. I met Brandon at Institute right after he got home from his mission, and 3 months later, we were engaged. 6 months after that, we were married, and 2 months after that, we moved to Norman so Brandon could go to OU. Just a few months later, I became pregnant with our first daughter, and started hair school. I had Portia, graduated school, and started working at an awesome salon here in Norman. I had another daughter, Margot, and became a stay-at-home mama. Now, Brandon is a few weeks away from graduating from OU, and we are preparing to move back to Tulsa.

There you go! Basic story of my life! It's pretty short and to the point, but hopefully in the next few weeks, you'll get to know me a bit more!


May 2nd: Something you know a lot about.

I know a LOT about getting stitches. The first time I got stitches, I was under 18 months old. Since then I've had stitches probably 10+ times. On my face 3 times, on my hands 4 or 5 times, in my mouth, and several others. I've lost count honestly.
It's to the point now, that when I get cut, I can tell if it needs stitches or not without going to a hospital. The last time I got stitches, I cut myself at the salon. I called Brandon to let him know that I was going to the ER, and he said "Ok honey, I'll see you when you get home." I think my coworkers were more upset by it than Brandon and I, because it's so common now.
When Brandon is in med school, and learning how to stitch people up, maybe I'll come teach the class. I'm an expert.

rat day aka the best birthday ever

I recently told a story about me getting some stitches and mentioned the rat incident. Its a pretty ridiculous story, so here you go!

It was my 8th birthday, and I was super excited. After all, it was my birthday! You only turn 8 once!

That night, we visited the Owens home. (sidenote: the Owens family is probably the most awesome family ever. Miranda and Teeny, I love you both!!) Our moms were chatting in the front yard, while us girls were playing with the cats. One of the cats got ahold of a rat and was trying to kill it. Yeah, I know, gross.

Of course, being the genius that I am, I decided to "save the little mousey" and scooped the rat up. It promptly bit me. I promptly flapped my arms around to get the rat to let go. It didn't. I flapped harder, and it let go, flying into the air, and I'm sure the cat jumped right back on it. I'm not too sure about all the details now, it all gets a little fuzzy.

We went into the kitchen, and ran my finger under the faucet while Tommy Owens caught the rat in a tupperware to bring to the hospital.

I was tested for so many diseases, everything from rabies to allergies to pet dander. Given the all-clear, they stitched up my finger and sent me home.

Happy Birthday!

What's up, Doc?

This is the story of my day yesterday.

To start off, let me say that I am a tad bit accident prone (those of you who know me well/lived with me are chuckling right now). I have been known to trip over my own feet, fall up stairs, and run into walls. I have also had stitches 7 times.

Wait, what?!? Seven?!? Seriously?

Yes, seriously. And thats not including wisdom teeth and childbirth. Some pretty interesting stories, those are. Like the rat incident (thats another blog post, my friends).

Yesterday was stitches day #7.

I was doing a haircut at school and happened to cut myself. Usually this doesn't phase me, I do it so often. I just slap a bandaid on it and keep on cuttin. But this time was different. I cut myself on my left hand, right on the middle finger knuckle. Well, I guess I should say cut the knuckle off. Almost completely off.

Ouch.

I wrapped in in a few bandaids and quickly finished the cut. I then debated about going to the ER for stitches. One of the girls at school is a nurse also, and she took a look and tod me to go. She also told me about a little clinic down the road that would be cheaper and faster than the emergency room. So off I went.

I drove to where the clinic was supposed to be, but couldn't find it. So I called Brandon to google where the hospital was. After not being able to find one for a few minutes, he told me where to go. I got to the address and parked, but when I went up to the doors, they wouldn't open. So I figured it was just a back entrance. I drove around in the parking lot for another 5 minutes, trying to find a space (it was one of those parking lots where if you go down the aisle the wrong way you cant park) and almost got hit my a car. By this point, the cut on my finger has opened back up and is bleeding again, I am crying because I am in pain and frustrated, and I'm trying to maneuver my way around this crazy parking lot one-handed in a stick shift car. All the while trying to talk to Brandon on the phone. I thought I was going to lose my mind.

I finally park and go in the main entrance, and tel the lady at the front desk that I think I need stitches. She looks at me like I am nuts and says "This is a mental health facility. "

Well, why don't you check me in while you're at it?

She then tells me where the ER is and away I go again. I get to where she said and there is no hospital. There's a bank. There's an Arby's. There's no hospital.

I've now been trying to find a stinkin ER for an hour. Last resort, I called 911, explained my situation and got correct directions. (I was a mile away)

I sat down next to Meth-Maggie and Homeless-Guy-Harry and began my 2-hour wait. FINALLY, I was admitted and they put my finger back together in only about 20 minutes.

Not my best day.