Sunday, January 8, 2012

A Not So Miraculous Christmas

If you have been reading long enough (congratulations for sticking through the last two years--lean times!) you will remember that several Christmases ago, I lived through a miracle of the toenail kind. Ever since I have felt a sort of benevolence toward that toenail, although it turned out not to be perfectly formed, nor particularly miraculous since it stopped growing immediately after I posted about it. So again, to recap: one of my big toenails has not grown since Christmas 1999, the other has not grown since I posted about it at Christmas in 2007. They are gross, sure, but they are are all I've got. And I never have to repaint them unless I want to.

Except this Christmas, my Christmas miracle (circa 2007) turned into Christmas tragedy. I went outside to feed our dog, and on my way back in the dog tried to force an entry, at the same time that Logan tried to force an exit, and in the chaos of dog, door, child, yelling, etc., somehow I lost the Christmas miracle toenail. And this time, it's just skin underneath. (Is this too much information? Remember, I don't even mind having my buttocks massaged, so it's hard for me to judge.) And there was a tiny dot of blood. BLOOD! From my miracle toe! I felt so . . . well, forsaken.

Fortunately my father, the foot doctor, was here to lend his support (although his original intention was visiting Alabama to support me after my C-section, this turned out much, much better). I didn't cry, because please. I am not a crier. But I did scream, complain, and to hear Rhett tell it, fixate dramatically on my pain. Also, I might have made my dad wrap it up in gauze although he assured me several times that a simple band-aid would suffice. Better safe than sorry, I always say.

I am dealing with the disappointment of losing my miraculous toenail by ignoring it completely. Rhett keeps trying to secretly stroke the newly exposed skin (maybe he has graduated beyond simply quirky, no?) and I keep kicking him in the face. Not really. But almost.

Dear ones, how will I ever have faith in Christmas miracles again?


Melissa Bastow said...

There are always miraculous Easters to hope for. Or maybe even Saint Patrick's miracles or Arbor Day miracles. Right?

Kelley said...

I'm always cry-laughing when I read your posts. Heidi, seriously! You need to submit your work to an editor. I wish we lived closer because your influence is everything good! I love & miss you.