This evening, I convinced myself it would be ok to skip going to the gym with Kansas Dad as long as I scrubbed the bathtub. I spent the better part of an hour on it, thinking the whole time how to cleverly post about how it might be my nesting kicking in (though I think it's really just because we'd all hit our limit on grossness and my parents are arriving tomorrow).
Just as I'm finishing up, I get a call from Kansas Dad, who claims he's "sprained" his ankle badly and I need to come pick up the kids. The Y calls a few minutes later and tells me they think he's broken it!
I arrive in time to watch the ambulance drive away. (I considered trying to wave them down, but figured with our luck I'd get run over.)
After some kid-juggling and driving about 30 minutes out of my way, I finally arrive at the hospital. (Note to self: Buy map of the area to keep in the van.) Kansas Dad was released a short time later. Apparently, he had dislocated the ankle and was in quite a bit of pain until they got it set right again. (I'm pretty glad I missed that part.)
So he's got his leg in this hard splint thing. I know we're really very lucky it wasn't worse, but I envisioned the last few weeks without baby a little differently. Now we're going to be juggling childcare and getting him to work and home for his night classes.
Thank goodness my parents are already on their way. They'll arrive tomorrow evening. The rest of the house may not be clean. It may not even be tidy. But the bathtub is sparkling!
