How to Pick Stuff Up With Your Feet

This last week has been interesting. Along with a Polar Project diorama to put finishing touches on (read: send child to bed and make diorama look more presentable because other parents are carving penguins out of blocks of ice), and preparations for a trip to New York to contend with, I woke up a few days ago and my back was, well, seriously fucked up.

If you have a touchy back, you know what that means. It’s the whatthehelljusthappenedholyJesus feeling of rolling out of bed in the morning and finding yourself hunched over like an old bewhiskered blue haired octogenarian.

I did my usual Oh, hell NO back stretches and realized that this was no small kink. Essentially my butt cheek had clenched up like a hermit crab in its shell (or a very cold testicle) and was not giving up its spastic hold. Every movement sent blazing pain down my leg.

So I spent the better part of this week flat on my back trying to coax my butt cheek to chill the hell out, popping Prednisone and trying to keep the 2-year-old out of the fish tank.

To date Theo has thrown in two pencils, a pen, a Lightning McQueen Matchbox car, the fish net and a closed container of fish food. Surprisingly (and sadly, because I am so done with the fish tank) all of the fish have survived the maelstrom of attention.

Knowing that my range of motion is severely limited, the 2 year-old decided that this would be a good week to act like a terrorist. This includes but is not limited to spending a lot of time on top of the kitchen table throwing things while yelling at the top of his lungs, “This is AWESOME!”



So, I have mastered how to pick stuff up with my feet and thought I would share my technique with you via a video. Please excuse my gnarly toes. And unshaven legs. And strangely short baby toe.

Remember that you can always enlist the bad toddler to help retrieve your narcotics. Just make sure the medication is in childproof packaging.

27 thoughts on “How to Pick Stuff Up With Your Feet

  1. Most impressive. You need to work on the narcotics, though. That’s clearly the most important thing in the pile, and if the two-year-old ever truly turns on you, you’ll need to be able to retrieve that bottle independently.

  2. Haa! I love this. One, because I also know the feeling of back issues. Nothing like crawling to the bathroom to make you feel young. And when it happens, I use the feet pick up too, which has caused my husband to tell me I have freakish monkey toes and might be the missing link!

  3. Aw hun, I sympathize, both re the bad back and the naughty/wild/crazy toddler. My youngest is 5, and just yesterday, he launched a box of Cap’n Crunch across the kitchen. Needless to say, the cereal took a LONG time to clean up. Say hello to the fish for me, lol.

  4. You are hilarious! And impressive.
    Annie rarely sat still either at the age of 2. I actually envied other mothers of 2 year olds that were compliant and could park themselves in front of the TV. Sigh.

  5. Hee! That’s a true skill! :)

    Love the captions, I have a dark side, too (who knew?!), and I’m so so sorry about your back!

  6. I feel your pain (not right now, but I’ve had that back thing going a couple of times.). Have a cafe mocha vodka valium, that’ll make you feel better ;)

  7. Lighting McQueen is at the bottom of the fish tank? How do you sleep at night?

    Special talent that – being able to pick stuff up with your feet – I think you’d definitely get a Silver at the Mom Olympics.

  8. awesome! in a strange coincidence, i taught dane to pick stuff up with his toes this week. we all have raunchy, random, monkey-like feet in my house (overshare. sorry.). anyway, hope the prednisone helped you get through the plane ride!

  9. I just had to call my kids over to watch your magic foot in action. That is HILARIOUS. You better just brace yourself for the inevitable wave of podophilic blog fans. (I’ll share mine with you.)

    So sorry about your back! I know that feeling. I SO know that feeling. The only thing worse than being immobile is lying in bed and hearing your sister-in-law (who lovingly arrived to help) rattling through your kitchen cabinets and muttering under her breath about your shitty housekeeping skills.

  10. Oh you poor thing! I hope your back was better before you got on that plane. Do you know about laying on a tennis ball to unclench that cheek?
    I kept sort of hoping and wishing you would say, “Just give Mommy her pills.” You are a Prehensile Podiatric Princess. Ellen

  11. Oh you poor thing! I hope your back was better by the time you got on that plane. You do know the trick about laying on a tennis ball to unclench that cheek?
    I kept hoping and wishing you would say, “Just give Mommy her pills.” You are a Podiatric Prehensile Princess. Ellen

  12. So I read this last week and didn’t comment at the time (I was either drunk, on my way to bed, or at the karate studio…typical).

    Anyway, I miss you so much I had to come back and re-read and comment now.
    And I love that you’re in NY and having a great time but you can’t go away again like this for a while.

    Okay. You can. Just kidding.
    Still. I miss you. And I hope you’re having a wonderful (no really. wonderful!!!) time.


  13. LOL, what I am amazed at is not that you can pick up stuff with your feet, but that you can operate video while doing so without shakey hands. Now, go shave your legs. :)

  14. This is like a PSA for the sciatica association. and if there isn’t such an association, there should be, dammit. I’d be a charter member. Ever since baby #2 broke my tailbone on his glorious/endless way into the world (what? you say you didn’t know you could break your tailbone? oh, yes, yes you can)…my back hasn’t been the same. Even if psychically i would WANT to bound out of bed with the dawn to greet the day, my back says…ease into kiddo, easy does it. creak, click, clench. it’s like my spine is made of badly attached legos. Luckily I too have prehensile monkey toes.

    • Deborah, Thank goodness you have monkey toes! I have a close girlfriend who broke her tailbone and remember her having intense, intense pain. I’m so sorry that you had to experience that along with all the fun healing that comes along with birthing a baby. Your poor Lego spine. Take good care of it & your lucky toes.

  15. clearly your meds need to be repackaged into a more maneuverable container — the suspense was killing me. share your pain re the whole crappy sciatica deal (massage booked for tonight, thank you JEsus)…I may walk tomorrow. Have just found your blog and feel like I’ve been given a mysterious secret treat, like opening a new book and knowing within the first 2 pages that it was going to be a delicious read. So YAY.

Kvetch with me!

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