As Caleb has so gleefully put it over 300 times in the past 24 hours, I got my ass kicked by a poptart.
Let me explain.
Yesterday, at breakfast, Caleb went to cook Mia a poptart in the toaster. He set that piece-of-crap contraption on level 3, popped in the tart, and went on his merry way. I was standing in the kitchen when I smelled something burning. I shut off the toaster and pushed up the poptarts, and then, thinking I would save the day, I proceeded to quickly grab the poptarts, so that I could put them on a plate to cool off, thus rescuing Mia’s breakfast from sabotage and basically becoming a rockstar in my daughter’s eyes. Problem: Burning sugar sticks to a finger like superglue fuses pantyhose to your foot. (Don’t ask.) I man-screamed and ran for the sink. But even cold running water wouldn’t undo the damage: I burned the friggin’ crap out of my thumb, and it’s painful and blistered and I think there’s still sugar somewhere under my non-existant thumb skin. I wouldn’t be surprised if my thumb sprouts a poptart here in the next few days.
I am a burn victim.
I’ve been helplessly dealing with my gimp thumb for over 24 hours now, and let me tell you: life without your right thumb isn’t easy. I can’t put Mia’s hair in a proper ponytail (shattering my dreams of achieving rockstar status), I can’t wash dishes in the sink because the water stings like the dickens. I can’t do a simple thing like cut a sandwich in half, and let me not even begin to describe how difficult it is to unbuckle my son’s carseat. The weird thing is, since I can’t use or really move my burnt thumb, my other thumb sort of follows suit, and I end up walking around with two bum hands. It takes a concentrated effort to use my left thumb, which is completely fine. I am a total invalid.
And anyway, if you’re corny and dramatic like me, you will take a ton of tylenol, sit on the couch, and ponder the meaning of life. And, if you’re like me and you have a teenage daughter and talking to her is like talking to a brick wall, you are constantly looking for ways to turn an everyday occurence into a teaching opportunity. And so, here’s my up-and-coming “Got a Gimpy Thumb? Say Your Prayers and Don’t Do Drugs!” lecture that I am currently preparing.
We deal with bum thumbs all the time in life–that friend that’s always getting you into trouble, the boyfriend that means well but he’s holding you back, those parents responsible for your jacked-up childhood–and yet, you have to make a concentrated effort to get your own butt in gear and make sure the things you are doing are right, because you yourself really are perfectly capable of doing so. My parents used to tell me: “Choose your friends wisely; you start to become like the people you surround yourself with.” And I would think, “How horrible! I can be friends with lowlifes if I want to! So what if my friends wear all black, are obsessed with Trent Reznor, smoke pot and skip school–it doesn’t mean that I will too!” or “Just because I have an older boyfriend who has an unhealthy obsession with losing his virginity, doesn’t mean that I’m going to go out and have premarital sex on a first date!” But it’s true–a person can very easily and mindlessly start acting like the people they hang out with. JUST LIKE MY LEFT THUMB AUTOMATICALLY DOES WHATEVER MY RIGHT THUMB IS DOING. Stop it, left thumb!
But what if you are the gimpy thumb? Don’t worry–there’s hope for you! Because God is up there in Heaven right now, with sterolized tweezers at the ready, and peroxide-soaked cotton balls, constantly picking at you and de-germing you, and he will not leave you alone! You could be the most disgusting, oozing blister on the face of this planet, but God is onto you, and he’ll keep trying different approaches to getting you cleaned and healed. He might even bite you–he is not afraid to use his teeth. Do you have a nasty green infection that just won’t quit? God’s got your antibiotic! And he might even tap your left thumb to give it to you.
Sheer gems, right? True pearls of wisdom, I know. Please–go easy on me. I’m doped up on Tylenol. And I have a gimpy thumb.