A 'Toe'-st to the New Year...

I pictured my last blog of 2008 going a little differently. I thought I might impart a few words of wisdom…a few things that I learned about myself this year… recalling some of our adventures over the course of this crazy, lightning blasted, novella writing, soul-searching year of growth.

Instead, I’m talking about my toe. Yep. My pinkie toe on my right foot. How undignified.

This morning, I took a trip to H.E.B. with all three kids, to pick up a few of the things we need for our little New Year’s Eve get-together. I threw on some clothes and a baseball cap for the quick trip, and slid my feet into my flip-flops. Now let me just tell you, I am a flip-flop fanatic… I wear them almost constantly. That is, until the temperature drops down into the thirties, and then I just can’t swing it anymore.

After filling our cart with junk, and alcohol (hey, it IS New Year’s Eve!), stopping to visit with the multitude of people we knew who were ALSO shopping in H.E.B. (of course, ALWAYS when I’m looking like crap) and picking out Lunchables for the kids (they love those stupid things, and they are a very rare treat), we headed back out to the van. Libby, my sweet little angel, was ‘helping’ me push the cart, standing in front of me, with her hands on the cart handles. And then she stopped for no apparent reason, which she occasionally does. And I kept walking. And I totally whacked my toe on the heel of her shoe. It hurt, but I’ve stubbed my toe before. I even managed to not swear in front of the children.

Then I looked down and saw my little pinkie toe jutting out at the craziest angle. Well, damn… what’s a girl to do? After loading all the kids and groceries in the van, driving past my doctor’s office (just to see it closed for the day), yelling at my husband on the phone (sorry, honey!) and going home to unload the groceries, I called my wonderful friend, Sarah, to see if I could drop the kids off at her house, in order that I might go to the clinic.

Now, I know what you might be thinking… the doctor really can’t do much with a broken toe. Just tape it and go on. Well, I might have considered that if my toe hadn’t been stuck at an almost 90 degree angle. In fact when I got to Sarah’s house, she took one look at my toe, and insisted on driving me to Urgent Care. It didn’t really hurt too much, and I actually couldn’t stop giggling about how ridiculous it looked, which prompted Sarah to ask me if I was in shock. We left the kids with her husband, and she took me to the clinic (and even left and brought me back a diet Coke… now, that’s a true friend!)

So a few hours, one trip to Urgent Care, a cutie pie doctor, a dislocated (not broken) toe popped back into place, a $30 band-aid wrapped around my toes, and a prescription for 800 mg Ibuprofen, later… I’m ready for the New Year’s festivities to begin.

Thank goodness our theme tonight is a ‘PJ party’ game night, and I can just wear my fuzzy slippers. Which just so happen to look like flip-flops. Will I never learn?

Happy New Year, everyone!