Okay, so I generally do pretty well with the ickier parts of parenting. There was the aforementioned squirting of the private area in the bathroom of Airport Beach in Maui. When Rachel gets migraines, I have to give her a suppositories. I have assisted in the final stages of bad constipation in both my children. And this past week, I dealt with Rachel's infected finger pretty well. I squeezed stuff out of it with my own fingers a few times, even. But that situation has finally confronted me with parenting ickiness I am finding it tough to abide. The final chapter in the infected finger saga (I hope!) is that the finger nail has come off. Ew! Ew! Ew!
Unfortunately our first inkling of this came last night when we were having dinner with our friends Lisa and Paul and their children. Lisa is the most squeamish person I know, and as Rachel and I had a short discussion of her finger beginning with her disturbing announcement that her nail was coming off and ending with my gasping and putting my hands over my mouth after she showed me how it could flip up like a car hood, Lisa, who is close to 9 months pregnant, turned a color comparing to that of printer paper. Not fun.
Our solution last night was to just leave the nail on there, held on by a bandage, but at some point in the night I decided that might not be sanitary, so a little while ago we took off the nail, rinsed the finger, and recovered it with a fresh bandage. While doing so, I got to feeling a little faint but made it through. But it was horrifying. Fingers are meant to have nails on them, y'all. Please, don't try this at home!