Pushing Through the Little Pains

Pushing through the Little Pains 

I guess it started two years and a day ago. Two years ago I broke a toe and yesterday I stubbed the same toe pretty hard. I tried to shake it off.

About an hour later my husband Michael and I decided to go workout and drop the boys in childcare at the rec center.  The plan was that after we finished, one of us would take the kids to the pool around the corner as the other would go get Whataburger and bring it back for a poolside picnic. We were going to make a fun day of it! 

So I taped my toe up with its neighbor toe, popped a couple of Aleves and set off with and a sense of determined authority. I was going to own this day. No little toe was gonna tell me what to do. 

I lifted weights for about twenty minutes and then walked over to my husband and stubbed the same toe again. I told  him what happened and mustering every tiny shred of self-control,  I held back tears as I slowly hobbled out of the room. 

But we’d promised the boys a day at the pool.

“Let’s just go home, Christy.”

“No. We promised them.”

“You need to go home, ice it and rest.”

We went back and forth like this for a minute before he wore me down and I agreed.

Of course the news caused a ripple-effect meltdown that started from the top. The four year old started wailing and losing it in the lobby and the two year old followed suit. In his rage my younger one walked straight into and opening door, banging his forehead. 

Then it’s thirty minutes before nap time and I was wondering why we ever thought we had time for such an ambitious schedule in the first place. After buckling them into their carseats we get ourselves into the car. And then in an attempt to appease the screaming heathens, Michael assures them:

“We’ll still go to Whataburger,” he says in his loudest calm voice.

My nerves are on the edgiest ledge, my toe is throbbing and I immediately shut it down.

“No, it’s not worth it. It’s almost nap time..plus you just said I need to go home and ice it…it’s too much….I mean, why….?”

“Because it’s FUN!” 

“Yeah I’m having a lot of fun,” I smarted off just under my breath, but hopeful he heard it.

As it wound up, we did go straight home. The boys ate PB&J on a beach towel in front of the ultimate panacea, television. We called it a living room picnic and they were fine.

Michael and I were on the couch awash in the calm after the storming toddlers. With peas, a Ziplock, and rubber bands I fashioned myself a highly effective little icepack that wrapped around my now very plump piggie toe.

After putting the boys down I settled in for some of my own TV time as I flipped on Netflix and scrolled to my show, The Staircase. It’s a true crime documentary, a murder mystery involving a dead wife, a lot of blood and a blow poke. Michael can’t stand this genre that I love so he went upstairs to read, leaving me alone for some much needed recharging. Foot elevated and with icy toes, I let myself get lost in the courtroom drama, crime scene re-creations and the intricate details of blood splatter patterns.

I know it’s morbid, but it’s my morbid mid-day ritual, dang it.

Flash forward to this morning. Mostly the boys were playing fine but then Bradley loses his mind over something and demands to be held. Ninety percent of the time I oblige. But today I was trying to get dressed. I was rightfully and vigilantly guarding my hurt toe. I tell him NO. And his fiery temper sends him flying into my body. He’s grabbing and attacking me with his tiny raging limbs. Fearful of further injury to my purple toe, I wind up basically palming his forehead and he falls backward. Apart from his tender heart, he’s completely without injury but screams and cries even harder. I flee from the precious beast and head downstairs.

But PRAISE JESUS because my mom decided at the last minute that she wanted to take the boys for a few hours. And at this point my she’s about fifteen minutes away. Pretty much screaming at him, I ordered him to sit on the couch so I can turn on his favorite TV show.

Their MoMo comes and goes and I am blissfully left alone. It’s when I walk back upstairs to finish getting dressed that I realize I am wiped out and it’s just 9:45 a.m.

But it’s fine. Everything is fine, fine, fine. The boys are back home and it’s their nap time.  And I wish I had a pretty little bow to wrap up this piece for you but I just don’t. The truth is I’ve got a big ole’ bowl of obligations and chores ahead of me that I need to complete before tomorrow morning when we head out of town.

So um..ya know. Here it is:

THE END.