First off, my toe is doing much better. It still hurts and has been turning all sorts of interesting shades of purple over the last few days, but I don’t see any bone poking through, so I think I’ll live.
Here are a few snapshots, since SK and others may be wondering about the specific shades…
It’s very like a young Cabernet on the actual toe, with a kind of smoky midnight blue tone around the base near my foot. I can’t wait for the swirls of green and yellow to come in as the bruising fades!
Anyway, so I have been running a little. For some reason, wearing my running shoes hurts my toe less than being barefoot. But it’s not that fun because I’m aware of my toe being wonky and I feel like I’m compensating for it at the expense of my other foot. I’m not doing a full-on skip-hop, but it’s close. So I really needed to go to the pool today, for psychological as well as physical reasons, but my husband’s out of town and I have successfully avoided the YMCA’s childcare like the plague, until now.
Okay. I read the GOMI forums. I know you guys will probably call me a smothering mom and a pretentious ass and a whiny bitch and mutter under your breath that I need to check my privilege, but we’re going on six months and I have never left my daughter with anyone other than my husband and my parents. I can’t explain to you what happens when you’re a new mom, but the first time you have to hand your baby over to, for all practical purposes, a stranger, and just walk away, it’s fucking hard. You’re completely neurotic and convinced no one else is quite as qualified as you to hold your baby and change her diaper, and you stay that way until you are at some point forced to get over yourself. Some moms do it sooner than others, and some are better at it than me, but that’s just how it is.
I’ll give you a second to finish rolling your eyes.
The Y’s policy is that they come and get you if your baby cries longer than 10 minutes, so I felt pretty good when I walked away and she didn’t cry, and then made it through my swim without hearing from them. But apparently, she’d gone ballistic exactly nine minutes prior and they just were just about to come track me down when I showed up. Dude, she was crying harder than I’ve ever seen her cry, excepting when the good doctor pulled her out of me. Shuddering, snot glazing the upper lip, big fat tears gushing down. Goddamn it.
Maybe I could have given them a few tips that might have prevented the blow-up? Like, so she enjoys looking at trees…her favorite game is to throw things and have you pick them up…hold her like this, not that…but I didn’t want to be That Mom giving them a rundown of all my professional tips on how to soothe a baby. These people are not retarded. I can’t remember what kind of certification they hold, but they’re at least somewhat experienced in childcare. (At my last gym, they totally looked like a bunch of deadpan, minimum-wage teenagers who didn’t give a shit about babies.) Kenzie probably just realized I wasn’t there and freaked the fuck out.
Also, for 9:30 in the morning on a weekday, there were a fuckload of other kids there. Toddlers running around screaming, other babies babbling and hollering, so it was pretty loud and chaotic. I think I may suck it up and try again in a few days, but maybe go at a different time when there’s not quite so many other kids. You know, because my special snowflake baby requires more personal attention. And other kids are assholes.
Anyway, it’s fine. She didn’t die and I don’t think she will be permanently traumatized. I might be, though. Today’s little experience didn’t do much in the way of curing my neuroses. I probably just need to have a beer and go back to bed.