I hate writing titles of these posts because I don't want to give away the whole story but I need a title that is leading enough to remind me of the story when I'm looking at the titles later. It's really hard to recall the memories I've already written about and which ones I haven't. I should keep a list, and I did start one in fact, but then I misplaced it. Figures. So know every time I go to write one of these posts, I have to look back through my archives.
This memory is a great example of my over-reactive tendencies, but I swear it was still very traumatic.
Remember that time when...I was arguing with my mom in the kitchen about something petty. Possibly the argument was about the fact that she was burning dinner or having cake for breakfast again. Or something equally unimportant. But really Mom, stop eating cake for breakfast.
I get my very animated talking skills from my mom. I know this because as we were heatedly discussing our issue she was waving her hands around trying to make her point. And I was waving my hands around as well. I was very unprepared for this argument though.
See my mom came prepared with a steak knife. And like the saying, "Don't bring a knife to a gun fight", don't bring your hand to a knife fight.
As the conversation started picking up speed so did the knife waving.
And before I knew it, the knife was in my finger. MY OWN MOM STABBED ME! I started freaking out and crying before I realized that the "stab" was more of a poke and the cut was only about an 1/8 inch wide. But that is beside the point, my own mother stabbed me! The betrayal!
To this day, my brother and I still bring this up to my mom.
"Yeah, well, at least I didn't stab my own child."
Seriously, it was a traumatic experience. I thought she cut my finger off. But I'm happy to report that I have full functionality in my finger.