Enough of October, already.

The suck continues. Last week B. dropped a chef’s knife on his foot, creating a nice gash. We got him stitched up at the emergency room where they told him to immediately see a podiatrist. One week later, after jumping through the hoops the military healthcare system requires, he saw the specialist today and he's going to have to have major surgery next Tuesday. The tendon appears to be severed and regressing up into his ankle. He’ll be completely incapacitated for a couple days, then supposed to stay off his foot as much as possible for 4 to 6 weeks. In other words, the remainder of my pregnancy. If I make it to 40 weeks, that is.

Icing on the cake? We are supposed to attend a wedding this weekend about two hours from our house. Our family is playing a pretty big part in the wedding: bridesmaid, flower girl, and ring bearer. The drive necessitates staying in a hotel for two nights. B. has an MRI on Friday afternoon, which means I’m flying solo for the drive up, hotel check-in, rehearsal, and rehearsal dinner. Look for me - I’ll be the large, pregnant lady with the out-of-control twins at her wits’ end. Fun!

I would ask, “what else can go wrong?” but I know better*. Tempting fate seems like a bad idea.

*Actually, the stomach flu is moving through the twins’ preschool. I’m guessing that’s next on the agenda. Or, real preterm labor!