Getting My Dog Home & I Couldn't Make It Up Things

This horrible day of events happened last week and finally I have some time to post it!
Remember how I said that we got Blue cremated?
Well, I finally got the text message saying he was ready for pick up.
You know what nobody has told me (and possibly never told you-so here it is):

It's really frigging difficult to go back to the vet's to pick up your pet in an urn. It was borderline traumatizing in fact!!
I approached the vet office doors and started to have a hard time breathing. I had A-Man with me and he was just amazed at the large automatic doors and the golden retriever that walked in for his checkup. He understood we were getting Blue to bring him home but he seriously thought Blue was still in a car somewhere. (We don't have one.)
When the nurse handed me the box- I took a deep breath. I saw his name on the sticker label and sobbed. She petted me on the shoulder and said her condolences and swiftly left so I could show A-Man that somehow- there is the remains of a 38 kilos dog in a box in a box.
He asked if it was Loki. Good grief.

Anyway I'm glad the urn was packed well inside a box because then I had to get a sausage order that weighed quite a bit.
On the way home, as I'm still in a bit of shock- A-Man decided to just be a huge not-gonna-listen-to-you jerk (aka a toddler with a major attitude).
He wouldn't listen. He wouldn't walk. He was about to break his sister's lemur by swinging the stuffed toy by its tail. A stitch had popped already and if you're just reading my blog now- sewing ain't my thang.
I finally managed to get him home with a boxed urn under one arm, and 7kg of sausages under my other arm...he was kicking and screaming and I dragged /nudged him all the way home.

Then he continued to scream in the hall that could wake the dead and I snapped.
As soon as we closed the door I yelled. Which is my preferred method of releasing anger and typical. I admit this.
What isn't- is me swinging my fist with the aim of punching the closet door.
And because karma was making her rounds or because I had 0 reflexes to stop- A-Man jumped up and my fist connected with his head.
I cried, he cried, I was shaking as I was sure I fractured something in my knuckles- serves me right...yep I know!
And you would think that punching your kid in the head by accident would be the end of bad and crappy things to happen-right?
Wrong.

I proceeded to cover my knuckles with tiger balm (Chinese polysporin is what I call it) and A-Man wanted some for his head. And his hand too-just like me.
Less than five minutes later he's screaming again because he rubbed his eyes. And got tiger balm in his eyes.
While I'm trying to unpack the urn, I'm trying to rinse his eyes out and M-Girl just shoved the box off the stool I had it on in the bathroom.
Yup. Thankfully it was packed really well.

An hour later, we heard V-Man coughing and it turned out he was in my backpack and had taken a gel capsule pill of ibuprofen.
I kid you not. Thankfully it was only 400mg and my friend said because of his size and he only had one- he'll be okay.
So we just gave him a lot of water with the hopes he'll be okay.

You are hoping I'm done right? Yeah me too.
Well all was fine when we went to bed until 4:30 this morning when I stretched and lightly nudged what I thought was Loki.
I rolled over and heard a loud thump and the insta-scream of M-Girl.
You've got to be freaking kidding me.

I've since seen a doctor and had a couple X-rays taken and my bones are fine. My muscles in between and knuckles are sprained but nothing I can really do about that.

So if you're having a crappy day like I was- just remember: It can always be worse.
BIMU