So, You Broke Your Foot!

Those are the words I received from the emergency room doctor 11 days ago. I’ve never broken a bone in my body, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. Did I break it scoring the winning goal in a soccer game? A bar-room brawl? A 50-yard dash? No, I ran up the stairs in our house. I somehow misjudged while taking two steps at a time. Just goes to show how fragile life (and feet) are.

Unfortunately for me, Nick was headed out of town the next day on a trip he had won through work, so there I was, alone with the boys for nine days with a throbbing, black and swollen foot. They told me to stay off of it for three days, keep it elevated, and use ice for the swelling. Of course none of those things happened. I go back later this week to see how it’s healing, so hopefully the boot they gave me to wear has done the trick. I couldn’t slow down at all, but in the past couple days the pain has disappeared, a good sign.

Nick didn’t get back until around 8 p.m. on Halloween, so it was all on me to take the boys trick-or-treating and then hand out 420 pieces of candy. Our neighborhood reminds me of my days of trick-or-treating back in the ‘70s before anyone was worried about razor blades in candy. I ran out of candy at 7:15 and could have probably handed out another 200 pieces. We had taken the boys to pick out costumes a couple weeks ago and Dylan chose Batman and Reid chose SuperWhy (he's a reading superhero on PBS weekday mornings). They practiced saying "trick-or-treat" for days, and knew that something was going down, although I don't think they knew exactly what. But it was fun to see them get so excited. After about two houses, they caught on fast and wanted to keep going to get more candy. It was a warm evening, so the boys and I handed out candy from the front porch after they were done trick-or-treating. But then they kept taking off, bothering the next door neighbors who were doing the same. It was stressful to keep up with them and make sure they didn’t get too far from me. But in the end, I suppose everything worked out and the boys understand what Halloween is all about. And they only ate candy for dinner, but I let them have fun.

Another thing that crossed my mind in the past week is how difficult it is to raise children with little to no help. Nick had called my parents, but it would have taken them several days to get here (my mother is incapable of leaving home without a full 20 days to plan and pack) and neither my father nor mother walks dogs, changes diapers, cooks, or cleans, so what would the point have been for them to bother coming here? I’ve still never met Nick’s mom, and she’s never been here to see her grandkids. All the neighbors were busy on Halloween, so really no one was able to help out. I just sucked it up and took it one day at a time.

I can’t believe it’s only three weeks until Thanksgiving. We’ll have no family here for the holiday, so I’m going to start checking around and see if our gay parent couple friends are interested in getting together. Holidays are much more fun with laughter, friends, and even more children.

One final note. I HAVE to watch Oprah today with Ricky Martin. I’m mostly curious to see how he deals with his twin boys. They were conceived in the same clinic as our boys, and at about the same time. I’m sure he has a nanny or two, but his story should be interesting.