Friday, May 13, 2011

Graceful is not my middle name

I woke up this morning to learn that Blogger had sent my most recent post (and useful comments) somewhere into the cyberspace mystery vault. Where to, I had no idea. The post has since returned, but the comments are still MIA.

In the mean time, I'm sitting here with several throbbing toes. After a rare lovely morning out with both girls (mornings out aren't rare, but mornings out being lovely with no whinging or meltdowns are a rarity), I decided to be naughty and grab a McDonald's lunch for the Faery and I, from the local drive-thru on our way home.

We got home, I unpacked the car, put Miss Pie in her high chair, got the Faery sorted with her McHappy meal, and - quickly, so my waiting Quarter Pounder didn't get too cold - got some yoghurt and chopped banana for Miss Pie. In my haste to get over the safety gate from the kitchen, I'm not sure what happened next.

A clumsy moment. One leg didn't clear it properly and my big foot hooked over the gate, bringing the it down behind me. I stacked it in spectacular style, and several toes on my other foot copped the brunt of my weight whilst somehow getting dragged on the ground as I fell.

The icing on the cake? A plate full of food all over the carpet, which was freshly steam-cleaned just yesterday. A long overdue clean which - miraculously - undid a year's worth of sins that only a preschooler and baby can do to carpet.

The pain. The sight of food strewn across the as-new carpet (the trajectory pattern was most excellent, I have to admit). The pain. More pain. I couldn't move for a good minute, while both girls stared at me in dismay. I am amazed I didn't let all kinds of foul language fly. I was just too dazed, and - the pain!

The Faery watched me for another moment - I'm sure she was holding her breath - and then said, "Wow, Mum! It's lucky you didn't cry, because grown-ups don't cry!"

I thought I was, but it was just my eyes watering. I thought I might be doing a disservice to her by pretending I was okay (impossible, anyway), so I told her it hurt a lot and I wanted to cry, and that it's okay for grown-ups to cry, that everybody cries when they are hurt or feeling very sad, and that's normal.

Then I picked myself up and attempted to make an ice pack. What I learned today is that we need a gel pack in the freezer, because the huge crescent-shaped chunks of ice that the freezer's ice-maker produces are almost impossible to fashion into an ice pack for toes. At this point, the skin at the bottom of my big toenail was gushing blood (again... clean carpet!) and it looked as though I may have even managed to pull the toenail away from its bed. Nice one, and woe is me. My pretty toes! Vanity sucks.

And my Quarter Pounder? It was pretty cold by the time I got to eat it.


That was two hours ago, and I'm still not sure what's going to happen to my toenail. It may be okay. Hard to say. But my middle toe on that same foot? I can't move or bend it. At all. I hadn't even noticed that earlier, what with the pain radiating from my big toe. Awesome.

A little fact about me that I may not have mentioned before is that I am prone to clumsiness. As a kid, my parents called me Calamity Jane, and I never really outgrew this trait.

Graceful is not my middle name.

If something can be tripped over, you bet I'll manage that. My hips and thighs have constant bruises from me bashing into objects. I'm so used to it that I often don't register minor accidents until later at night when I have a shower and find new bruises on me: Hmm... where did that come from?

All I can say is, thank gawd it's Friday. Bring on the wine tonight - it can't come a moment too soon...


  1. Bloody hell. My eyes are watering just reading it. For your benefit, I hereby announce that Wine O'Clock is officially moved forward today in accordance with Pacific Daylight Time and "Fuck, My Foot Hurts" Time.

    I don't know what's up with the comments. Mine disappeared too and I have a suspicion we won't be seeing them again. Posts were returned unharmed though.

  2. Oh you poor thing. Moments like that you definately need a good just took me back to my spectacular stack over the child safety gate when I was 8 months pregnant. I mean, I HAD to step over it...the small clicking sound of the gate closing would have surely woken my sleeping toddler right? If not to sound of me and the gate crashing to the ground definately did wake him though!!! I feel your clumsy pain.
    Oh, and your comments from people advising you on how to boil an egg...disappeared...maybe it is just a sign, boiled eggs and you just aren't meant to be :o)

  3. @ Mel - I've just been on a mammoth mission to find somewhere that sells gel packs to put in the freezer. A harder task than imagined as the local supermarket only sold those single-use crystal packs, and I'd gone on foot. At this rate, wine won't be enough. Vodka will be necessary...

    @ Jen - you poor thing! I stubbed a toe badly in the weeks before P was born, and restubbed it days later on a shopping trolley wheel (being summer I was living in my Havaianas). It was a very purple, sorry-looking toe and carrying a lot of weight! I feel YOUR pain from your memory! I think it may even be the same one that I can't bend now; it's been broken before, but meh. As a very unsympathetic doctor once said to me, there's nothing that can be done for it (actually, her exact words were "Well, if it is broken, what do you want ME to do about it?")

  4. Speaking of comments, I saw the one you left on Eden's page the other day. I have a few cards left in honor of Alex and if you'd like one I'd be happy to mail one. Email me alexandrawrote at gmail

  5. Oh, OUCH! You poor thing.

    I am a showering bruise discoverer also! What is that about?

    I blame the children...

  6. I'm a clumsy one too! The bloody safety gate was my biggest problem when I was pregnant with Conner. I was so afraid I'd trip over it, being even more vertically challenged than usual. I think Conner was a week old when I did eventually trip. Thankfully I wasn't holding Conner. But two sprained wrist and bruised hands and knees later saw me rolling around on the floor crying while Kai was asking if I was ok. :( I laid there for about 10 minutes making sure I hadn't broken anything.

    Its hard work being so clumsy!

  7. Ow, Bron! That sounds scary. The thought of falling while holding a little baby is a terrifying one, isn't it? The last place we lived in in Sydney had a precarious, steep little staircase - such fun when heavily pregnant, then middle-of-the-night feeds with Miss Pie. I'm amazed I didn't fall and kill her, I truly am.