Labor Day we had a big day planned in St. Louis with Mr. G's sister and family. We were all very excited. The night before around 1:30am I hear a scream. I instantly jump out of bed and take off sprinting toward what I think is a hurt little Sissy G. Apparently the door was halfway open to our bedroom and when I tried to run by I whacked my foot into the door. Mr. G then got up and I told him to find Sissy G because I thought she was hurt. He found her on top of Bubby G's bed....apparently scared to get down. Mr. G came back to check on me and I told him that I think I broke my foot. We turned the lights on and took a look at my foot. Nothing. I mean....no swelling, no bruising, not even a red mark from where my foot hit the door. NOTHING!! I was feeling pretty silly at this point thinking obviously it's not broken. However, I could not walk on it. No matter how hard I tried, it just hurt too bad to walk. We all made it back to bed and Mr. G and I spent several minutes laughing about what I looked like running into the door. Definitely not my proudest moment.
It wasn't quite how I expected the holiday to go, but we all still had a lot of fun. And technically, I got my first broken bone (other than the two stress fractures in my back, the one stress fracture in my knee, and the time when they broke my leg bone to put a wedge in during one of my many knee surgeries). Nothing like your first broken bone.