It’s nine o’clock and I’m in for the night. I don’t just mean home. I mean IN bed, face washed, the whole shebang. Andrew’s out of town for the night and it’s the perfect time to snuggle under the covers with my book and my laptop. So, it’s a quick post to the blog to inform you of yet another embarrassing LL moment and then my covers await…
I like to think that I have moments of gracefulness. I did dance, once upon a lifetime, you know. But those moments are, well, sometimes fleeting. And few. And far between. Today was a prime example of “far between.” I had big plans to make a batch of bread in the morning. I started pulling out ingredients, but I got interrupted when I heard Ellen in her room, awake and crying. I went to get her up and as I came cheerfully down the stairs, my foot slipped. And before anyone asks, I WAS wearing shoes and they were NOT strappy, thank you very much. So I fell the rest of the way. And because I was holding Ellen, there weren’t any hands to catch myself with. So the full force of my weight, Ellen’s weight, and all the help we were getting from gravity landed on my right knee.
Ellen never noticed a thing. She remained upright and secure throughout the entire event. I made a lot of unnecessary noises and crumpled up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. This attracted the attention you would expect from toddlers. “What you do, Mommy?”
“What’s matta, Mommy?”
“Mommy! I wrote a ‘G’!” (This would be from Sam, who remained completely oblivious to my woes the entire day.)
Fortunately, in the midst of all this care and concern, there was Aunt Anita. She took Ellen from me so I could writhe in peace. She reappeared with every bag of frozen vegetables contained in our freezer. Then she packed me up in ice like a prized salmon in a cooler. I got a little sick to my stomach, so I laid there in the entryway for a good fifteen minutes or so, waiting for the world to right itself. We smeared lots of Arnica gel on the bruises and I think that went a long way to keeping the swelling down. Fortunately, nothing seems irreparable, other than my pride. But obviously, I gave that up three paragraphs ago when I determined to tell you all my sordid tale.
So, instead of making bread today, I sat in my chair with my knee propped up and tried to retain my role as Mommy while on ice. Adam loved this development. He switched from asking me sweetly if I was okay, to insisting that I read to him, to threatening to touch my leg, just for kicks (no pun intended, but it would have been funny if it was intended.)
Aunt Anita’s presence was a true God-send. (Though when she pulled out the camera to take a picture of me where I lay on the floor, I did threaten to tell people that she throws me around when she comes to visit.) And no, you cannot see the picture. Not because of my pride (clearly I have none) but because I refuse to get up and go get the camera merely to amuse you with visual images of my swan dive. My verbal description will have to suffice.
And that’s all I have to say about that. Enjoy, people. Enjoy.