It's not a holiday weekend unless...

…someone ends up in the emergency room. In 1987, my fourth of July holiday weekend was spent in the hospital recovering from a snake bite. No kidding. A young copperhead got my foot as I walked up the path from the lake, which proceeded to spread venom quickly through my body and necessitated a three day hospital stay. Yay!

Flash forward to Memorial Day 2010. Another holiday spent at the very same lake with family and good friends. It was a nice weekend—incredible weather, dinner from the grill, a little guitar on the patio after the kids went to bed and yes, a few hours in the good old emergency room with my dear husband.

And how, do you ask, did this holiday weekend injury occur? Surely something more cool than a snake bite. Water skiing? Wake boarding? Extreme golfing? Nope. Freak mower accident. The funny part of this story is that my husband claims he brought it on himself because as he was mowing along in his shorts, he was thinking how silly his parents were for riding him as a kid to always wear jeans while mowing. He even arrogantly thought to himself “I’ve been mowing for 25 years and nothing’s ever happened” when a rock kicked up and put a deep puncture wound in his leg.

So listen up, kids…your parents harp at you to wear protective clothing for a reason. Mock them at your peril! A rock may not jump up to bite you for 25 years, but when it does…irrigation and stitches for you, my friend. Not to mention hours sitting next to a guy in a camo-hat with a bloody knee bandage regaling you with his story of how he took on a gang of “punk kids on them souped-up golf carts”. But that’s another story…

I still think I beat my hubby in the cool lake holiday weekend injury department. Do you have any vacation injury stories to share?