So I have pretty much had the worst luck ever, which is strange considering everyone around me says I’m the luckiest person they know. I’m the one who wins every raffle I enter and the Bingo jackpots, although I’ve yet to win the Lotto. I went and broke my foot four weeks after giving birth to my baby boy, Frankie. So now I have a seven-week-old baby boy, a demanding four-year-old daughter Kayla, and NO LEFT FOOT! And no, it didn’t happen on my first night out since having Frankie (it’s going be almost 12 months before I can wear six-inch heels and hit the pub again since becoming pregnant). In actual fact, I was having a water fight. A mother of two can still have fun!
Terrified to leave my newborn in case someone cuddled him better than I did, I left it three days before going to the hospital. I told the staff at the hospital that I was breastfeeding a brand-new baby at home with hope of being seen to quicker (even though I’m not). And it worked! Because after just a couple of x-rays and a few screams, I’m now modelling the ugliest, bulkiest air cast for the next six weeks. These things really should come in a choice of colours, pink to be exact.
For the first few days, I could not carry Frankie safely down the stairs in the mornings. So I’ve been ringing and texting everybody I knew possible to come over and yes carry him down the stairs for me. There’s clearly no recession surrounding me because it seems that everybody works (or their clearly avoiding me). Whilst also helping me down the stairs, I’d then sigh about how he was on his last bottle and -hey presto- they even helped making his bottles too, Result!
Kayla thinks it’s gas, she’s way too clever. She’ll do something naughty then run up the stairs because she knows I can’t chase her to put her on the naughty step. Or while I’m resting my foot she’ll sneak into the fridge or the press where I keep the sweets, looking for yummy treats. We’re starting to get on each other’s nerves though, as were stuck at home 24/7.
I can’t just pop out to the shops or bring Kayla to pre-school. Thankfully I can shower though and don’t need a nine-inch ruler as my cast is removable. I haven’t even managed to get my money’s worth of Frankie’s very expensive buggy.
I walked to the shop the other day with Frankie; actually I hopped with the support of his buggy. It only took me 35 minutes to get there. That’s a whole 33 minutes longer than it normally takes me. Some old-man passed me at the end of my garden on his way to the shops. By the time I crossed the road, he passed me again with his big bag of groceries. The little f**ker had a good laugh at my expense too.
So now I have another three weeks partially disabled and if I could take one thing from this experience – DO NOT TAKE YOUR FEET FOR GRANTED!!