It Wasn’t A Dream

This is why you have kids. It’s a sentence that is used in meme’s, jokes,  and when you run out of toilet paper in the bathroom. This weekend, I discovered yet another reason why it’s super helpful to have kids.

Slight back story.

The medicine I’m on for severe anxiety gives me ridiculously vivid dreams. I don’t normally remember anything from the dream realm, except with this medication. I’ll wake up and be able to tell you every detail from three or four insanely wild dreams. It’s weird, and somewhat entertaining. I could probably start a dream journal, but then y’all would think I was crazier than I am. Alas, I digress.

So, I took my medicine and fell asleep. I awoke to the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen. One of our Hell cats had knocked a novelty wine glass off the top of the refrigerator, and onto the kitchen floor. I got up, threw away the pieces of the glass, which looked like it was only the stem that had broken off, and threw them away. I woke up thinking all of this was a dream.

Fast forward to that evening. I was walking into the kitchen barefoot to fix Stella’s dinner, when I suddenly realized that was not a dream at all. I stepped on a huge chunk of glass, and stupidly and instinctively tried to wipe my foot across my other ankle, leaving my kitchen floor looking like a crime scene. I grabbed paper towels on my way to the floor, and pulled the enormous shard of glass out of my foot, cutting my finger in the process.

Now my foot was bleeding profusely, my ankle had a trail of cuts across it that were actively bleeding, and my finger was wanting in on the competition. I was trying to simultaneously clean up the blood, and stop myself from bleeding. The paper towels were useless in doing anything to help my mangled foot that was defiantly refusing to stop bleeding. I was in a bit of pickle, and quickly understanding the value of Life Alert!

I called out for Stella to bring me the band-aides from her bathroom. I certainly couldn’t walk anywhere across our beige carpet with the bottom of my foot bleeding, but I non-gracefully slid myself to the edge of the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to risk stepping on anything herself. She heroically brought me the box of band-aides, and inquired about me being in the floor surrounded by blood. I explained that I stepped on some glass and just needed to fix my boo-boo.

She hurled the box at me, and asked for an ETA on her dinner.

Thanks kid, I’m fine.

13 thoughts on “It Wasn’t A Dream

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  1. Oh man, I’m sorry about your foot I hope it is all better now and the crime scene wasn’t too much to clean Kids are so funny like that when they have their minds on the bottom line …food.lmao. Have a great day and as usual, thank you for allowing me to start my day off with a smile!

      1. Hey I was wondering if I could ask you a question? How do you handle having that level of anxiety and continue to do all the things you have to do in everyday life? I don’t have severe anxiety but I was just curious because I think it’s amazing what people can deal with and still funtion! You deserve a damn

        1. Well thank you! It’s not easy, some days are better than others. I think my stubbornness has a lot to do with it. Some days I take more medicine than others. Last month, I was barely functional. It’s exhausting and takes a lot out of you. I’m not sure how well I would manage without my support system, especially Kent.

          1. Sounds like not only is Kent lucky to have such an awesome girl but he is a stand-up dude and that’s priceless! Anyway I’m proud of me I know it’s not easy but I really appreciate that you blog about it and it helps to hear the trials and tribulations of others so that I don’t get so caught up in my own little world. I appreciate you, my friend! Thanks for the info

          2. Thank you so much! That means a lot! I always hated talking about it, but now I think it helps to find the humor in it. This is the hand I was dealt, so might as well make the best of it! Thanks so much friend!

  2. Yikes! I hope it was just a flesh wound. My family still has a joke ‘don’t bleed on the carpet!’ because when I was a teenager I cut my foot in the kitchen and before she knew if I was severely injured (I wasn’t) my mom immediately yelled for me to stay put so I wouldn’t bleed on the carpet in the adjacent living room. It was also beige.

  3. Seeing that you posted this (and from your above comment), I assume you are now patched up. I cringed as you described the incident getting worse and involving more body parts. I hope you learned your lesson?

    Food is important. You know? 😉

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