The sting

I've pulled out the scrapbooking stuff and am ready for action. Slowly, slowly starting to get my life back.
Scrapbooking is a weird hobby though. I find it odd that even my hobby is about my kids and husband. I often don't feel like I have gotten a break after doing it.
Nonetheless, I want to start the baby's book.

Baby got stung by a bee on his eyelid. Where else? The soccer game. ugh. I'm starting to hate that place.

Some guy ran over after the baby (and I) started screaming. He sent his mother for ice and helped me hold the baby still while I pulled the stinger out of his eye. Then he said he was going to look for a cigarette. This is a hell of a time to go for a smoke, I thought.

He came back with a pack of chewing tobacco and told me to put some in my mouth and then put it on the baby's bee sting. He said it would take the pain out of it. This, I determined, is a southern thing.

I did this alternating with the ice. I suddenly found myself enjoying the cud of tobacco that was in my mouth. "Give me some more of that. That's not half bad," I told the fellow.

Just what I need another bad habit.