There's No "I" in Head Butt

Last night was quite the night at the Ellis' house. I ran errands after work, ran to the McRee house to tkae care of things, came home and started packing myself, Trenton and Wes for the beach as well as packed Baxter for the doggie hotel. After getting everything done I decided to spend some time with my first child, Baxter. We were playing on the floor (keep in mind Baxter doesn't realize his size, most of the time he considers himself a lap dog) and Baxter just happened to move at the right time so that his bottom tooth caught the side of my nose right by my eye. Let me tell you, that hurt. I immediately rolled over and just cried. My poor nose had a minor cut on it (by my eye) and while I am sobbing, Wes is chasing the dog around telling him that he is a bad dog. Me, still crying. Wes, "IF you ever do that to my son." Me, crying a little harder. Wes, "Baxter! NO! COME HERE!" Baxter (bless his heart) thinks this is a game. Finally Wes walks over and goes "you okay?"

Um, NO I am not okay. My eye has a cut and my nose hurts, but thanks for asking. Naturally, like any mature 26 year old, I decide I need to text my parents...who are in Chicago! So, I take the most unflattering picture of myself (zoom in on my swollen nose and cut) and send it to my dad. Since Dad is a doctor he is used to diagnosing Ansley and I over the phone. I think half the time he tells us what he thinks we want to hear. But, I text my picture with a description of the incident. Here, dad, diagnose my eye through a horrible text image. My simple question, "will I have a black eye?" I have never had a black eye, I don't like injuries near eyes (thanks to my Mom) and I am not sure what to do.

Immediately I jump to if I have a black eye, the pictures of Trenton's first trip to the beach will look stupid, so I am wearing sunglasses for every picture. While my mind is racing, my head is throbbing, and Wes is watching the Carolina/Oklahoma game (occassionally checking in with me - but he has learned to just ignore me), my dad responds.

Dad is new to texting, so my 3 page text is met with this response Yes, but not til morning. The response to my next 3 page text, "noted". I love my Dad.

Well, fortunately, I do not have a black eye. Props to Dad for attempting to diagnose from a horrible picture. My nose is sore and the cut is able to be covered with make up, but it hurts.