Broken

It was Friday night. Paul had just gotten home from work, and we were putting the final touches on dinner. On the menu: blueberry pancakes (I recently discovered the most amazing recipe.), eggs over easy, and bacon. Who doesn't love breakfast for dinner at the end of a long, rainy week? Wine was chilling in the frig and a Netflix movie was already waiting in the DVD player. It was gonna be good.

While I was preparing Ryan's plate, he was underfoot as always. He has two drawers in the kitchen that are "his," filled with an assortment of kitchen gadgets that he can play with while I cook. I didn't realize that my body was partially blocking the higher of these two drawers, and he was becoming frustrated while trying to open it. He pulled and pulled. He whined. I looked down, saw the problem, and stepped out of the way at the same time that he pulled on the drawer with all of the strength his tiny body could muster. He fell backwards, the drawer came flying out in its entirety... and landed directly on my toe. The pain was intense and the toe immediately turned an odd grayish-blue.

A trip to the urgent care center, where they took an x-ray of my toe, confirmed that it was broken. I have crutches and a stylish "shoe" that should be used for a week or two. Total healing time will be 3-4 weeks. I wish Ryan was older so that he could fully understand my plight (Not for the purposes of guilt - I don't blame him for the freak accident!). Then he might run towards me, instead of away, when I need to change his diaper or lay him down for a nap. However, there is an even bigger part of me that is terrified that he will discover the full extent of my helplessness! Please keep it our little secret.