the rainbow foot
I've been limping around for the last couple of days, having sprained the pinky toe on my left foot at Gymboree on Wednesday. Entirely my fault, really - I was wearing socks (as per the gym's hygiene policy) and trying to step up and down a wooden piece of equipment with Bao, not accounting for how slippery it would be with socks on. All kids play barefooted in the gym, and while they are encouraged to climb and slide, no one expects the parents to join in.
Excuses, excuses. The truth is I'm just a klutz. I now have a huge and startlingly purple bruise on my butt, and a bruised left foot with a fascinating variety of hues. The toe hurt like a bitch on Wednesday night and I was worried that it may have been fractured, but I decided to sleep on it and see how it fared in the morning. Although my whole foot was stiff when I woke up the next day, the pain level was much better and I was limping less. Life goes on anyway, sprained toe or not - I still managed to wrangle Bao to the supermarket and back, did school pick-up and cooked dinner as usual. By the end of the night though, my foot's totally sore and the limp is bad.
Speaking of dinner, I went a bit nuts tonight and made sticky oven-baked ribs for dinner, served with two types of veggies and brown rice. In the midst of all that I also decided to bake brownies from scratch and just got started with the eggbeater when the kids came barreling into the kitchen, demanding dinner. The usual chaos ensued, i.e. The Bun talking endlessly and dawdling with every bite, Bao standing on a chair and trying to poke her spoon into everyone's plate but her own, everyone talking over each other, me getting up every five minutes to check on the brownies in the oven (they took much longer than the recipe's twenty minutes - must be something I did), a pile of dirty dishes growing in the sink, etc. This is why we are too embarrassed to invite anyone over for dinner. There is never any proper conversation, everything is a mess, and the children are living, breathing PSAs on the importance of contraception. Sigh.
Bao the terror seems to know my toe is injured, and has made a couple of attempts to stand on it after discovering I yelp in a very interesting way when she does that. She's been driving J and I mad, but that's a post for another day. It's clear that toddlers evolved to look cute because they would otherwise be throttled before their third birthday. I need more sleep, and the kids have to stop coming into my bed at night (last night's count: four).
Excuses, excuses. The truth is I'm just a klutz. I now have a huge and startlingly purple bruise on my butt, and a bruised left foot with a fascinating variety of hues. The toe hurt like a bitch on Wednesday night and I was worried that it may have been fractured, but I decided to sleep on it and see how it fared in the morning. Although my whole foot was stiff when I woke up the next day, the pain level was much better and I was limping less. Life goes on anyway, sprained toe or not - I still managed to wrangle Bao to the supermarket and back, did school pick-up and cooked dinner as usual. By the end of the night though, my foot's totally sore and the limp is bad.
Speaking of dinner, I went a bit nuts tonight and made sticky oven-baked ribs for dinner, served with two types of veggies and brown rice. In the midst of all that I also decided to bake brownies from scratch and just got started with the eggbeater when the kids came barreling into the kitchen, demanding dinner. The usual chaos ensued, i.e. The Bun talking endlessly and dawdling with every bite, Bao standing on a chair and trying to poke her spoon into everyone's plate but her own, everyone talking over each other, me getting up every five minutes to check on the brownies in the oven (they took much longer than the recipe's twenty minutes - must be something I did), a pile of dirty dishes growing in the sink, etc. This is why we are too embarrassed to invite anyone over for dinner. There is never any proper conversation, everything is a mess, and the children are living, breathing PSAs on the importance of contraception. Sigh.
Bao the terror seems to know my toe is injured, and has made a couple of attempts to stand on it after discovering I yelp in a very interesting way when she does that. She's been driving J and I mad, but that's a post for another day. It's clear that toddlers evolved to look cute because they would otherwise be throttled before their third birthday. I need more sleep, and the kids have to stop coming into my bed at night (last night's count: four).