Feet

Good for so many things.

Not so good when they get hurt. Jimbo moved his chair tonight and ended up dropping it onto his middle toe. He was clearly in pain, as normally he doesn't fuss. Left it for a bit, soak in the bath (tepid), elevated it and still he looked in agony so rang NHS ...advised to take him to A&E. Bit much thinks I - it's not broken, its a bit red, and the swelling went quite quickly. But then the panicky bit of me thinks "Best take him, because that call has been logged and if I don't take him, I might get a phone call from someone to say "You're a bad mother" and I can't be doing with that!".
So hopalong comes out to the car, but on the way says it isn't as bad. But his face tells me a slightly different story. However, upon arriving at A&E (the place where after two hours with a dark blue finger a few weeks back, I didn't get triaged in the first 2 hours so I gave up and came home) James looked at the assembled throng of drunks, old dears, mums with babies and a variety of other hospital visitors, and also spotted the three ambulances that had just arrived before us, and decided it wasn't that bad after all!!! On checking the wait time - 4 hours for minor injuries, bad mother decided to put him in the car and bring him home. It does seem to be getting better...fingers crossed.

With regards to my feet, metaphorically speaking I am very good at putting my foot in my mouth (although I have restrained myself from doing so, twice, today), I would very much like to put my foot up a couple of people's backsides, I can jump in with both feet when people need me to.

Most importantly today, I would have liked to have used my feet to walk away from at least three situations that I didn't want to be in under any circumstances and which have frustrated me to the point of tears.

At least my little feet and toes got some pampering this afternoon with a blissful hour of reflexology where I zonked out and forgot about everything for a short while.

And finally, a rant, which is going to make me sound like an ungrateful cow, but I need to let it go. Had a phone call this evening, summonsing me over to Liverpool. When I put my foot in my mouth and clearly gave the wrong response ("Sorry, but it is going to be a real struggle in the next 3 weeks"), I got THE tone of voice, disapproval and an absolute lack of understanding that it is not as simple as jumping in the car to drive over and pick something up. No understanding that my day doesn't stop when I get home, that work is stupidly busy for all of us, that arrangements have already been made for the next two weekends etc. THEN I was challenged about why a thank you card hadn't yet arrived with another relative. This was for a set of books, which AS A FAVOUR I had removed from the house, because the person in question wanted space to put other books on. I explained to Gma that there was no thankyou card, because the 36 books were still sat in the boot of my car because there had literally not been enough time in the last three weeks to remove them and put them into the school library, so therefore, nobody knows that a thank you note is needed. I am frustrated beyond belief. So, somehow I have ended up capitulating, because of the disapproving and disappointed tone, and agreed that I will (somehow?!) get over there to pick up a keyring and a set of fish tweezers to take to Spain, because, it would appear, that is more important than everything else.

See - I told you I would sound like an ungrateful cow.