I'm not going to lie, spending three days sitting on my exquisitely-positioned stoop, stoned on painkillers, having conversations with nearests and dearests, my kids largely being taken care of by themselves and others, has definitely had its moments.
When I first posted about the sprain on FB, a friend with a 3 yo and 2 yo TRIPLETs retorted: Lucky you!
I can't fault her envy.
There's something undeniable about crutches. Unlike a cold, or a tummy bug, or just plain slackness, no one can really doubt your inability to do certain things (like carrying a mug of hot tea), and after spending the first 24h after the sprain fighting rising panic, I've found a place of calm acceptance.
This is not unlike being pregnant. My body is doing something which has meant I've had to change my modus operandi, have had to embrace assistance, have had to surrender to the now and patiently wait it out.
I've had more down time in the last 3 days than the whole of the long summer holiday - this cannot be all bad right?
It's just ... not how I'd planned to start my year. 2014 was to be about speed. Doing more work, getting my motorbike licence, moving a little faster now that my kids no longer hold as tightly to my apron strings.
But no, seems it is to start with a period of very slow contemplation. Right. Back to the stoop.