>Pregnancy Brain + Broken Foot = Humiliation

>I haven’t blogged much about it, but having a broken foot has been, shall we say, rough.

Because two weeks later, my foot still hurts. A lot. The boot I have to wear feels like it weighs about 50 pounds by the end of the day and gives me a horrible backache. I can’t drive in the boot and I can’t wear a shoe, so I have to drive barefoot. Which I’ve done twice. Hubs is doing grocery shopping for me right now and since he takes Baby with him, he returns with Disney Princess fruit snacks, Mickey Mouse ice cream cones, The Incredibles cereal and every other random cartoon-themed product she managed to lay eyes on while they were there. He’s just a dad who can’t say no, which is dandy for her, but not so good for my pregnancy diet.

I’m not telling you this to garner sympathy. I’m telling you this because when my own mother didn’t bother to call me for an entire week after I’d broken my foot, well, it was just too much to bear. After waiting seven days from the last time we’d spoken, I called while she and Dad were eating dinner. She immediately put me on speakerphone, which didn’t help my mood one bit.

“You haven’t called me in a week!” I sputtered. “I can tell you’re mad at me! You should tell me what’s wrong, because when my own mother doesn’t call me for a week after I’ve broken my foot, something’s wrong! Very wrong!” I could feel the tears building up behind my eyes.

“Yes I have called you,” my mom said mildly.

“No! You haven’t!” I said shrilly. “Not in a week!“

“I called you once while you were giving Baby a bath and another time when you and the girls were in the middle of a movie. And you said you’d call me back both times.”

I paused. I bit my lip. Against all odds…

My mom was right.

“Uh. Oh yeah,” I said lamely. “I forgot.”

There was a moment of silence.

“So… how have you guys been?”

Graciously, my parents went along with the ruse that my little telephone shit fit had never happened. We talked for a few minutes before I let them get back to their dinner.

“Well, bye,” I said. “And um. Don’t be surprised if I call you tomorrow crying hysterically and demanding to know why we haven’t spoken in eight days.”