Sundays are typically crazed at our house. Eric has to be at church early, so I usually get all the kids and myself ready for church. This Sunday was no exception. I raced around getting kids dressed and saying things like "No, you may not wear your p.j.s" and "Yes, you MUST brush all your teeth."

My Sunday morning plan also involves making sure the kitchen is clean and the house is tidy before I leave. I know this may be silly, but I cannot come home to a messy house. In many cases this has been my downfall, and this Sunday it definitely was.

I was finished my Sunday race to church by asking the kids to put on their shoes. I was dressed for church from the waist up and was waiting for the last minute to put on my skirt. I ran (literally) to the laundry room to stick a load in the dryer before we left.

As I was shoving clothes into the dryer, Denver walks over and is asking me what kind of snack do I think they will have at church. He is yapping away and I am shoving clothes in and yelling orders to the older two.

Finally I was done manhandling the laundry and slammed the dryer door shut.

On Denver's pinkie.

Oh, yeah, it closed all the way with his pinkie in it.

He, of course, lets out a scream and I yank open the dryer door, and  scoop him up to look at it. It doesn't look good. Little bits of skin are squished and mangled looking. I yell to Dylan to grab the phone, and may I just say that he hasn't even looked up from his Nintendo DS at all to see what all the fuss is.

Autumn, on the other hand, has inherited her dad's squeamish tummy and is running around the family room in circles screaming "Oh my gosh, his finger has fallen off!"

Thanks Autumn, super-helpful.

Dylan finally wanders over with the phone, at a snail's pace, and I start dialing.

Sadly, I don't call Eric first since I know he is at church and his options to help me are going to be rather limited. I start by calling the people who were physically the closest to me. My neighbor was first, but she was out to breakfast with her family.

OK, I hung up on her (sorry, Kim). Next, was Lauren but she was singing at church. Dang no good.

Not only did I need them to be available, but have enough room for three kids in their car.

The winner was Megan! By the time I got in touch with her, we were en-route to the E.R., conveniently located six minutes from our house.

We arrive at the hospital, I have Denver on one hip and Chandler on the other hip. In my hurried state I grabbed the first pair of jeans I could find. They were not only were too big, but also "low-rise," so as I am running with all my ducks, my pants are falling off.

On a side note why do they even make those stupid jeans "low-rise." My underwear is taller than those ridiculous pants. I'm just saying.

I get into the E.R to find a waiting room full of people with masks on, yikes! I get us checked in and seated. I am silently praying that the kids will not touch anything that has germs on it and if they do that God will protect them.

Meanwhile, every six seconds or so, Denver lets out a loud blood-curdling scream that is deafening to all people within 100 feet of him. When I try to convince him not to do this, he says he has to because of his "wound." Finally, Megan arrives, yeah! She whisks away the other three and heads to church.

They call Denver back for x-ray and take three of them. He does really well, but keeps asking to go into a room. They finally get us into a room and the doctor tells me that the pinkie is not broken, but Denver will need stitches and a check of the tendon.

The next thing the doctor asks me is do I want them to stitch him up awake or did I want him sedated? Ummm, sedated.

Denver is very strong and I thought that awake would not go down well.

The sweet nurse comes in to get his IV started and I was ready for a big wail and screaming, but of course Denver never does what I think he will do. He doesn't even wince.

So, of course, I am rethinking the need for sedation but, oh well.

They sedated him and this is when I finally cry. Not a lot, but just a little.

It is so hard to see your baby like that, awake but unable to talk.

They gave him two little stitches and thankfully his tendon wasn't involved. The doctor said that he should start coming out of the sedation in about 15 minutes. Well, an hour later he is still sleeping. See, it was his nap time and then you add crying and drugs — well, he was out for awhile.

And, of course, we had to stay until he was awake. They also wanted him to be able to say his name and how old he was, which I thought was funny. What if he said the wrong name or age? Would they keep us forever? He did wake up and thankfully did know his name and his age.

We were allowed to go home after a mere six hours at the ER on a lovely Sunday. I was supposed to make sure he didn't walk around too much by himself, but of course that didn't work. He was running around the house and didn't go to bed until 10 p.m, thanks to his long, drug-induced nap.

I, of course, was ready for bed at 8 p.m. Denver  seems to be fine and have no trauma other than when I opened the dryer later he did say, "Don't hurt me, mommy."