And another tiny little confession, I have never broken a bone in my body. That is until last night. You heard that right. Misses Evel Knieval broke a bone. And as much as I wish I could say that I was cool and broke a bone while flying over the Grand Canyon on my awesome motorcycle, in reality it was a lot less glamorous. What can I say, I am just not that exciting!
So my story goes a little something like this. I came home from work last night after driving through lots of rain and sleet and the roads were getting really bad (que the dramatic effect). I walk in the door to find my husband on the phone enthralled in some deep theological conversation with who knows, my girls are downstairs playing and the dog is wining at the door to go out. So I do what every loving mother would do and grab Lucy's leash to take her outside. Do I need to remind you that it has been raining/sleeting/snowing outside (this is me building suspense) and the back deck is covered in ice? I proceed to take her out and start to walk down the steps of the deck and as soon as Lucy reaches the ground she takes off! My feet fly out from underneath me and I gracefully float through the air and land on my backside. Although it was not so graceful as my foot landed wrong and I feel a piercing pain like I have never felt before. I may have also said a few words that I have never spoken before either. My shoe went flying off and of course the dog grabbed it up and started chewing on it. So here I am sitting on the steps with one shoe on and the other barefoot in excruciating pain. My husband is back inside on the phone and paying no attention to me. So I try my best to get his attention and decide to take off my other shoe and throw it at the back door. As I see my shoe flying through the air a thought occurs to me that maybe I threw it too hard and what if the glass breaks? Well at least then I will have gotten his attention! BAM! And no the glass doesn't break. Whew! And no, it doesn't get my husbands attention either! So there I am, sitting out in the cold rain and snow, barefoot in the dark, in pain, with the dog chewing on my favorite shoes. Awesome. It was by God's grace alone that I was able to get up, hobble on my foot back to the door and yell for my husband to help. He did eventually come to my rescue and the rest is history. Except for the part about me going to the doctor today only to discover that I broke my toe.
(Note to self, schedule a pedicure asap)
So as I sit and type this my toe is bandaged and I have been instructed to keep it that way for the next 4-6 weeks. I guess there will be no marathon running for me in my near future or jumping 20 cars in a single bound. And the morale of this story? The next time it is raining, make your husband take the dog outside. It also happens to be our new family rule.