Of all of the things my son's done to me (given me stretch marks, bite marks, scratch marks, etc.), none come close to the plain old dumb things I've done to myself.
Once, before MetaDaddy (then only known as MetaBoyfriend) went on a trip, I tumbled down a few steps. I put on a brave face and said "no, no...I'm fine. Go on your trip." However, the moans of pain led him to think I was fibbing. The GINORMOUS bruise on my rear proved I was fibbing. But, I insisted that he go on the trip. In the end (ha, ha...end), it was just a bruise. He had those steps painted with a rough finish to make them a bit more skid-resistant.
About a year later, I tumbled a few steps again (different set of steps). He got really paranoid about me on steps when I got pregnant, so I stopped wearing socks at home (the cause, I think) and I haven't had a slip again (knock on wood).
Today, I found a new way to injure myself. I'm short, so I need a step ladder to get anything out of the kitchen cupboards. I was rushing around trying to finish something up before putting MetaBaby down for his nap because the noise of the mixer keeps him up. I climb up the ladder, then I climb down. Well, that's how it should have gone. What actually happened was the two-stepped ladder was backwards, so when I "stepped" down from the top step to the first step, there was nothing there. I fell. It could have been worse. MetaBaby was safe, so I didn't have to worry about him. And there were no obstacles or chairs around, so I could have fallen on various different painful things. So in the end, I'm just a bit bruised, highly annoyed, somewhat embarrassed, and thoroughly exhausted.
I will be needing chocolate cake tonight.
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2 comments:
oh man! you be sure to give yourself 2 pieces of chocolate cake for that fall!!
Done and done!
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