Give us a break, again...

My husband is amazing. When we researched driving out to Virginia, we discovered that given the time restraints and the faulty transmission on our family van, we would have to rent a vehicle. As it turns out, renting a van large enough for our family and paying for hotels along the way was more expensive than renting an RV and "camping." Andy took to driving that beast like a pro. We had absolutely no problems.

Driving, that is. Negotiating the stairs is another matter. He broke his foot the second day out when he stepped down before the automatically extending stairs were done moving. His foot is still a lovely shade of swollen purple and brown, but the doctor has pronounced him "broken and sprained" and clear of the threat of pins and other surgical options. Huzzah!

But wouldn't you know it, yesterday we got the kids all ready for a family portrait and my son tipped a chair over on top of my foot. Mine's not broken, I don't think, but it is a lovely shade of brown, purple, and green. No heels for me for a few weeks. Even flip flops are out.

What a winning team we are. We thought we'd be good to go on a three legged race, at the very least, but we fell over before we even got the shoelaces tied.

My weirdo sense of humor has fully kicked in, though. I show the man my little bruise (by comparison) and say, "Gosh, honey, my foot hurts. See my little foot?"

It only hurts when he rolls his eyes...