So, I wrote this post about three weeks ago and never posted it. What is wrong with me? I don’t know, but at least my toe is better. Also, I didn’t have a matching picture, so here are Charlie’s feet.
Have you guys seen Something’s Gotta Give? It’s not a bad movie, in an “I’m entertained but it’s clear that the woman who wrote this is spectacularly in love with herself,” kind of way.
There’s a section of the movie, however, that makes me want to slap somebody across the face. I’ll try not to spoil too much here, but toward the end there’s a montage of scenes in which Dianne Keaton sobs uncontrollably for days. This is no gentle weeping; it’s intensely exaggerated, semi-comical, animal-like sobbing. Completely unrealistic and an insult to the viewer’s intelligence, in my opinion.
Well, that was my opinion . . .
It’s been one of those weeks, you know? We’ve been crazy, crazy, crazy busy. Paul started a summer job this week, and nothing seems to be going my way. When things get this way, it’s not the really big stuff that seems so bad . . . it’s the little crap that just manages to create that final brain-exploding spark.
Yesterday, Charlie and I had an overall good time at the Children’s Museum. I was pretty interested in the new Wizard of Oz exhibit, so naturally Charlie had absolutely no plans to go upstairs and check it out. That’s fine, I’ll see it one of these times.
Anyway, after I got Charlie all strapped up and snacked out in his carseat, I got up, forgot something in the backseat, attempted to sit back down, and slammed my temple (and glasses) into the top of the car.
At least, I think that’s what happened. To be honest, I’m not really sure. All I know is that it hurt and I had had it, so it was time to sit down, shut the door, and cry.
Charlie stared at me like, “Dude, Mom.”
So, I recovered and went about my business. I was pretty sure that was meant to be the crappy icing on this not-awesome cake of a week . . . until I stubbed my toe stepping out of the shower this morning. The kind of toe-stub that makes it painful to put on your shoes. The kind of toe-stub that makes you think of that girl in high school who actually broke her toe by stubbing it on a chair.
One would think that would be the capper. One, however, should probably not be surprised when a half-full Nalgene bottle falls on the same toe you swear you broke this morning.
I straight-up Dianne Keatoned all up in this Mo.
It was a horrible mix of animal-like sobbing and exhausted almost-laughing. I felt like an idiot.
Even Charlie didn’t quite know how to react. You know that terrible concerned/hilarious feeling you get when someone you know hurts themselves? Like, you really hope they’re okay, but you can’t stop smiling? What is that? Am I the only one who experiences that?
Anyway, I must not be the only one, because Charlie kept saying “YoouOkay? YoouOkay?” with a little half-smile on his face the whole time.
Was I okay? Yeah, duh. I’m such a waaaahhh-pants. Was there a moral to this story? Not really. I just thought someone should know that my toe hurts, and that I’ll happily accept sympathy chocolate.