Why should you never iron a 4-leaf clover?

♣ You don't want to press your luck. ♣

Dear Durbin Diary of Doom,

The plan was pretty simple.  A picnic dinner at the park then let the kids play.  Sounds easy, doesn't it?

::Sigh::

I emailed Scott, just to let him know what our dinner plans were.  He then responded by reminding me that Trenton eats dinner with his dad on Wednesdays.  Oh yeah.  Damn. 

Ok, picnic lunch then let the kids play.  I asked if Scott want to meet us at the park and he expressed interest, so we just met him at work.  We worked out the details, I stopped at Wendy's (obviously the term "picnic" is used loosely around here), and we met at the park. 

It was a gorgeous day.  Sunny and pretty.  Perfect.  Minus the wind.  We ate our Wendy's at a picnic table as gales of wind blew our trash, napkins, etc. all over the place for us to chase around.  Thanks for that, Wind.  Also, thanks for the biting nip in the air.  All that sun and yet, too chilly to be comfortable.  It helped that we sat at a picnic table tucked into the wintery shade of a giant tree.  So I went and got the blanket out of my car.  The bright red Texas Tech blanket.  The blanket that screams "look at me!" on the parks muted backdrop of dull greenery coming back to life after winter.

It was cold.  We ate quickly.

When we were done, Trenton was off to play with the tons of other Spring Break crazies on the playground and Scott and I {with my cardinal red blanket wrapped around me} followed Carter around while he explored.

Kids everywhere.  Parents everywhere.  People, plenty of them, everywhere. 

I don't know who's idea it was.  I wanna say mine.  I think I suggested going down to the smaller toddler-sized playground so Carter could slide.  It's about 10 feet from the big playground and set just slightly lower.  They're seperated by some sort of tile(ish) slab that slopes down roughly 3 feet {steeply, in my opinion}.  I can imagine I would think that sort of slanty wall thing was cool when I was a kid. 

So Scott was taking Carter to the slide and I was a little ways behind.  I started making my way down to watch and catch Cater at the bottom.  I remember that.  I was hurrying to get to the bottom of the slide.  And I was wearing flip flops.

I felt my ankle roll.  I had no control over it.  It just... rolled.

Arms flailed.  Blanket waved.  Then I was on the ground.  Not on the ground in the way that you are when you trip but kind of catch yourself before you actually fall.  Not on the ground like when you try to catch yourself but land on your hands and knees.  On.The.Ground.  Like when your ankle rolls and your big clumsy ass falls to the ground.  And PAIN.  I don't remember if I yelled.  Or screamed.  I hope not.  But I might have.  Because, ow.

Maybe no one saw me.  It's not as if I stood out because I was wrapped in a huge red blan...  Oh.  Right. 

I had on sunglasses.  Thank goodness.  Because I was doing the embarassed laughing thing... but I was crying.  And I couldn't even get up.  I could.not.stand.  So I sat.  On the ground.  At a fully populated public park.  And laugh/cried. 

Most people did the humane thing and pretended they didn't see.  One guy's kid ran up to me... so he HAD to ask if I was ok.  Mortifying.

Scott appeared at some point.  I don't know when.  I was trying not to go into full tilt cry mode.  Because that would have been the worst possible thing I can imagine.  I felt so stupid.  And radiating pain wouldn't let me stand... so I was just sitting and stewing in my own humiliation.   

The only person who DIDN'T see any of this was Trenton.  He was happily playing on the big playground, competely oblivious to the death of my pride. 

I eventually got to my feet {Again, hip-hip-hurray for sunglasses}.  The kids played for a bit more and I just.. stood.  Trenton then played on the slanty wall of death.  He ran back and forth and up and down chanting, "Look at me, I can walk on walls.  I'm Spiderman."

I am obviously NOT Spiderman, I guess.  :(

I decided I'd had enough and sent Trenton to gather Scott and Carter up.  Scott and I had taken different cars, so I had to drive home.  I drive a stick.  Which mean work for both feet.   

The drive home was... interesting.  I tried using my right foot as little as possible.  I even tried using my left foot for both the clutch AND the brake.  That didn't go well.  So the 6 minute drive home felt like an agonizing eternity.

It aches.  The swelling just started an hour or so ago.  It had been just swollen in one small area.. kind of like a knot.  And the bruise rocks, too.  I hadn't realized how regularly I knock my foot into things until the pain button, or bruise if you will, came about.

8 hours and constant icing later, it looks like this:

Club foot says "Happy friggin' St. Patrick's Day". 

{Sulks}