Broken

I am about to write something that I never envisioned myself writing or even happening when I thought about what motherhood would be like. My son broke my toe. Yes, that is right. I said it. My sweet and angelic little boy threw a very large can of tomato sauce out of the grocery cart right onto my big toe (I almost only ever wear flip flops). There I stood, right by the fresh fish at my local Safeway store, wanting to scream, cry, pass out, and possibly give my child a public spanking (I didn't) and I literally could not move because it hurt so bad. I obviously didn't think it was broken because I hobbled around the store to finish my shopping, feeling like I couldn't breath the whole time.

When I finally finished my shopping and got in the car I realized that I couldn't drive very well, but of course all of my relatives who live in a five mile radius couldn't be bothered to answer their phones. So I drove my son and myself home. I've never had a bigger case of road rage in my life. Like people should have known from looking at my car that I wanted them to "get the hell out of the way. . .my baby broke me and I want to go home and cry!!!!!!"

They didn't.

Luckily, my little brother did eventually answer his phone and come over to help out.

My son, well, he must know he did something not so nice to Mommy (even though I know it was an accident-that he hit me, not that he threw it), he was so lovey all day, just wanted to come and hug me. It is really hard to be mad at a little boy who is being so sweet.

Anyone know a good remedy for an injured toe??