I’ve been a stay at home mother for twelve years now. That number actually blows my mind since I had absolutely no intention of being one in the first place. It just so happened that while I was pregnant with our second child, the company where I had worked for thirteen years was bought out by another company and my services were no longer needed. The news sort of left me spinning.
It was a weird transition in the beginning. I had been used to hanging out with adults all day and here I was staring at a one year old, while another baby was growing inside of me. I still wanted a way to contribute financially to our growing family, so I began baby sitting. I kept three babies along with my daughter. Which looking back, that kind of prepared me for being the mother of four.
Just kidding. Nothing prepares you for that.
We have grown and changed a lot in our fourteen years of marriage. He works hard for his family and I work hard here. We are a team. We support each other. It works for our family.
Last year, my husband embarked on a year-long professional development program and upon completion the students were celebrated with a luncheon and graduation ceremony. He asked me to attend with him. So of course that is exactly what I did.
Not many people go to graduation ceremonies for their 42-year-old husband but I am always up for some merriment. On his special day, I walked into my closet and wrangled my way into an adorable dress. I spent way to long choosing the perfect shoe to compliment that dress. The winner was a pair of 3-inch heeled, open-toed nude sandals.
Next up was hair and makeup by my glamour squad. And by glamour squad I mean me. Some costume jewelry. A handbag. I was off to Professional Development Graduation.
I met my husband at the restaurant where the ceremonies were to take place. He looked so handsome in his sports jacket. I was rocking those shoes. It was going to be a memorable day.
As we walked toward the restaurant entrance, other students from the program were also arriving. Now mind you, these men and women had been attending classes together for over a year. I, on the other hand, didn’t know any of them. My husband planned to change that. I am a people person after all.
On the sidewalk waiting to enter stood three men. My husband walked ahead of me at this point and extended his hand to shake theirs. Clearly, these were classmates. I caught up to the group and stood behind Hubs, waiting to be introduced.
This is where everything went awry. The last thing I heard him say was, “This is my wife, Tonja.” Then he picked up his foot in an effort to step backwards, back to where I was now standing. Except instead of placing his rather heavy, slick-bottomed dress shoe onto the sidewalk, he placed the heel of his shoe directly onto my exposed second toe.
Now, this is where most people would realize that they were standing on someone’s foot. Then probably they would make a quick jumping motion, in an effort to get off of it. But not my husband. He not only fully planted his heel onto my second toe but then proceeded to pivot his body in an effort to turn to face me, for my introduction to his classmates.
Time out here. Let me explain why I keep stressing that it was my second toe that he was crushing. I am one of those people with toes that are long and skinny and actually more resemble stubby fingers, Add to that the fact that my second toe is longer than my first one. So now you finally understand why I am not a foot model.
It actually took my brain a minute to comprehend what was happening. By the time he actually made eye contact, he must have seen a look of sheer agony. This is the moment when he apparently realized that my agony was squarely his fault.
At this point he grabbed me by my arms, my knees buckling from the trauma. FYI, when someone steps on your bare toe and lingers, your instinct is to pull it out from under their foot. Which, let me tell you, don’t do that. That only caused a pinching effect pulling off several layers of skin.
In the middle of what seemed like an out-of-body experience, I tried to remain poised and focused. I saw my husband’s lips moving but all I could hear was white noise. And I am pretty sure that I saw Jesus. And maybe Buddha. There was sweat pooling on my brow.
Eventually, my body’s defenses finally kicked in. My toe went from a pain that left me speechless and bewildered to completely numb. Trying not to take the spot light off of my husband and his special day, I managed to hobble my way inside. Making sure my husband was no where close, the entire way. I was one accidental misstep away from amputation.
Of course my husband was ridiculously apologetic but all of the apologies in the world wouldn’t bring back my toenail. It was broken in half and my toe was black and throbbing like something out of a 1950’s cartoon.
Why had I not just shoved my husband into that group of men in an effort to get him off my foot? I cannot be sure. Maybe it is because we are a team. And that was his special day. Or maybe because I couldn’t string coherent thoughts together for a few seconds.
All I know is my husband had a lovely lunch, he received his graduation certificate and I was very proud.
I am currently online looking at a cute pair of steel toed boots.