I know, I know. She really isn't a baby anymore. But she is my baby, and my only baby, and I will probably call her that when she's 42. But that's beside the point.
Tonight, I injured myself. I will live. Maybe. It certainly wouldn't hurt if someone wanted bake me some cookies. ;)
Now you are probably wondering what happened. I stubbed my toe. Now, before you start rolling your eyes, let me tell you about this toe...
While I was pregnant with the sweetest baby ever, I broke this toe. Not once, but twice. And how did I break this toe? By walking into a door. In our Tucson house we had a linen closet in the master bath. The door on the closet opened outward. And I am blind as a bat without the aid of contact lenses. So on two separate occasions, I stumbled out of bed, fighting morning sickness and blindness, go to get a towel to jump in a nice warm shower, and I would walk into the door.
My poor little toe turned the most disgusting shade of greenish-black. To this day, it starts to ache when the weather changes. (Shut up, I'm not that old.)
And yes, I stubbed the same toe this evening. As I was walking into the bathroom to give Madeline her bath, I caught my toe on her step stool. And instead of just scooting out of the way, the stool scooted into the cabinet. It hurt.
I'm very proud of myself, though. I did not utter any of the words that were running through my head in front of my child. I did however say "ow, ow, ow, ow."
After a minute of collecting myself, I sat down next to the tub. Madeline just looked at me and said, "Don't worry, Mommy. It'll be okay." Then she asked to hold my hand.
That one little phrase right there was worth the pain.
One Final Day (Day 12-3/16)
2 years ago