I have always loved Easter. Every February 15th I spring out of bed and head to the grocery store. As the breeze from the automatic sliding doors sweeps across my face I am greeted with the season's opening of pastel chicks and bunnies. The rich scarlet of Valentine's Day is a thing of the past, dragging winter with it. Easter, with all it's hope and life, is finally here. Along with buying all my favorite chocolates, I usually decorate my house prematurely. That has never been a problem until today. As I was walking out my front door with Emma and the diaper bag in tow, I stepped on a stupid Easter egg that had fallen off my wreath. All my energy went into preserving my two year old, and none of it was focused on the ankle that was rolling to a clean 90 degree angle as I smacked full-force onto my tailbone. Sooooo...I can't walk. Is it a sprain? Is it just bruised? Should it be swelling to twice it's original size? Should I go to the doctor? Will they be able to do anything? The Tylenol isn't cutting it...what else should I try? Should it be hurting this bad?
Today I learned that my husband is strong enough to literally carry me up and down our stairs as often as needed. But what about tomorrow when the kids are awake? Is he strong enough to carry me, Emma, and Ben?