I'm not a squeamish kinda gal.
I don't get grossed out too easily.
I've actually held a beating heart while it was still in a mans chest.
I've cleaned up gallons of vomit.
I've carefully taped a Dixie cup over a child's protruding eyeball.
I've helped birth babies.
I've placed severed fingers into a Ziplock baggie.
I've reached into a goat to reposition babies for birth.
I've doctored compound fractures.
And I did each of these things without passing out.
Without tossing my cookies.
I did them with a calm confidence.
I didn't run away in fear.
I didn't cringe.
Tonight I had to face something that made me cringe.
Something that paralyzed me.
Something that made me freeze and lose all confidence.
"Mommy?" she asked, "Will you pull out my toof?"
I couldn't do it.
My little girl asked me to do something to help her, and I just couldn't do it.
I'm great at taking care of things after it happens,
But I cannot stand to actually see the trauma happen.
I would have no problem wiping the blood from her lip after she lost her tooth.
I'd even give her an ice pop to ease the ache.
But to be the one pulling it out?
Nope. can't do it.
So... I did what any good mommy would do.
I called in her big brother.
This is my HUGE 18yr old who can't hear the dog puke in the next room without running for the bathroom to throw up himself.
This is the boy who has paid his brother $10 to pick up cat poop because it's "gross".
But to actually CAUSE trauma or pain?
He's all over it!
He was so excited that he even made his own special tooth-pullin tool!
(needle-nose pliers wrapped w/ electrical tape to provide traction against the slippery tooth.)
She didn't flinch.
She didn't have a clue what she was getting herself into!
I was the one behind the camera whimpering and jumping each time he came near her with his device of torture!
Unlike her mother...
... I rock!
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