Well, it should be anyway. It’s no use trying to hide it because all of my nearest and dearest know the truth.
I am a hopeless clutz.
My falls are famous among family and friends. When I was a freshman in high school, I fell down the stairs. My sophomore year, I fell up (yes, you read that correctly–UP) the stairs. When I was in college marching band, we played for halftime of a Buffalo Bills game and I fell (while running) in the entry tunnel and had to be attended to by the team physician.
My husband always jokes that if he ever wanted to get rid of me, he’d just have to push me down the stairs. Everyone would believe it was an accident. During both of my pregnancies I managed to fall (once down four stairs and once on the ice).
Sweet Baby Son seems to have inherited his mother’s inability to walk and do anything else at the same time. Poor boy is covered in scrapes and bruises.
This past Saturday I did it good. Threw out my back and everything. How, you ask? By tripping on one of these:For those of you without boys in the 6-10 age range, this is a Power Rangers Megazord. Specifically the SPD Delta Command Megazord. When fully assembled, the thing is about two feet long. It’s even larger when the room is dark and you mistakenly think all of Sweet Son #1’s toys are stowed safely away. After I threw the offending item across the room, we had a Mommy-Son discussion about the importance of putting all of the toys away BEFORE bed.
Oh the sweet little joys of motherhood.