Okay, listen to this…
In May I broke my right pinky toe. I was in a big hurry to get some cleaning done before my brand new baby (darling Ransom, born March 4th) needed me again. I strode purposefully through my room, into my closet, and just clipped that toe on the wall on the way in. I heard it break, which, honestly, may have been the worst part.
Broken pinky toes are NO fun. They constantly remind you that you are considerably more delicate than you think. Also, three year olds do not understand, or care, maybe, what “Mommy has a broken toe” means. They think maybe it means step on it to see if Mommy screams. Or poke it 500 times while repeating, “Does this hurt?”
But, it’s not that big of a deal. They don’t require much care and they heal pretty quickly. Before I knew it, a week had gone by and I was feeling pretty normal again. I just took extra care when putting on my shoe, or walking around that darling aforementioned three-year-old (my sweet Eva).
No big deal.
Until I got a stress fracture in the middle of the same foot. How frustrating! Before the broken toe, I was trying to get into shape, and was ever so diligently working out to a Jillian Michaels video. So, as soon as I felt my toe had healed enough, I got right back on that horse. You know, two-and-a-half months after I had my (fifth!) baby. At 35 years old. While still carrying the majority of my baby weight. Right after I had broken a toe. Suddenly this is not sounding like as good an idea as it did after I got on the scale and prompted that frenzy of baby-weight-ditching exercise.