Jaw Breakers Now Come in a Size 3T

All I know is: he jumped, his head hit the bottom of my chin, something snapped, and I spent two and a half hours in the emergency room with a bag of ice on my jaw. The diagnosis? (And I quote) “Hit ain’t broken” (welcome to East Tennessee).

I think I know now how that football player got the nickname “The Bus”. I had no idea a collision with a two year old could leave me crying like a child in front of oh, only a couple hundred or so of our nearest and dearest church members. We were there to see the children’s musical. There must have been at least 50 kids (probably more) in the building, and I’m the one that winds up in the lobby crying. Awesome.

I can’t wait for the rumors to start.

“Hey, did you see the youth pastor’s wife at the thing the other night? What happened to her? I saw her crying and carryin’ on, walkin’ outta there with a packa ice on her face.”

“Yeah, I think she got in a fight with someone over the leftover spaghetti. You know how those two are always trying to take advantage of free food. It’s a shame, that’s what it is. Brawlin’ like that over leftovers…”

Sadly they’ll be disappointed, though. It wasn’t even fun or full of drama. Just a well-placed head-butt from my excited, jumpy little two year old son. But I had plenty of time to think about how to fuel the rumor fire while I was sitting in the ER. I already know who’s name I’m gonna throw out there as the one who laid one on me. I think she knows who she is…

So we spent two and a half hours at the hospital last night to be told that I have a bruise. Can’t wait to see the bill for that one. I wouldn’t have gone at all, but at the time I couldn’t close my jaw so we thought it might be broken. If you’re ever in that situation, by the way, ice and ibuprofen did the trick. By the time they actually x-rayed me (two hours later), the swelling had gone down enough that my teeth could touch. They don’t match up right and I might be eating oatmeal for a week or two, but by golly they touch.

I am thankful that it isn’t broken – the thought of possibly having my mouth wired shut (while a major comfort to some) seems like a nightmare to me. I’m thankful, too, for my sweet five year old who comforted me and kept asking if I was ok. He even took care of the ice water that was dripping on my arm. What a good kid, you know? He’s going to make a good husband and daddy some day – you know, after he turns 40 and is allowed to go on his first date.

So that’s it for today. If you hear any good rumors about what happened to me at church last night, I’d love to hear them. Just wait a couple of days to tell me if they’re too funny… it kind of hurts to laugh right now.

Well, I’m off to eat some oatmeal and to wake up my assailant. Wish me luck.