For the first time in I can’t remember how long, I fell.
I don’t DO falling.
I Damn sure don’t fall with Style.
It’s an ugly mess of hands and feet sprawled in the air looking for stable ground.
Let me paint the scene for you:
I get Bella out of her car seat, after picking Wyatt up from school. (Peyton had drama club practice, which is a whole blog in itself.)
In my hands were Bella, of course, and my Rachel Ray Magazine fresh from the mailbox that I scored free from a site I found on Facebook. (It’s entirely possible I just gave you too much info on that, but whatever)
Wyatt and Rhett race to see who can make it to the front door of our house first. With boys something is always a race. Wyatt usually wins, Rhett screams that Wyatt isn’t his friend anymore, blah, blah, blah.
Rhett decided today however, to run past the door to the steps that head to the third floor of our building. I am on my way up the stairs and in the process of yelling to Rhett that if he doesn’t get to the door by the time that I did…I would lock him out.
It’s an empty threat that never works.
Before “I’m going to lock you out” got out of my mouth, I tripped on my doggon flip flops.
And that’s when things went wrong.
I fell up the stairs, (because I don’t half ass anything and falling down the stairs isn’t nearly as awesome as falling up them.) ripped off half my toe nail, and half the skin off my left kneecap. Both of my forearms were scratched up as I tried to do a turn/football hold/ don’t kill the baby move. Bella’s head hit my hand instead of the floor.
I just sat there for a minute. Rhett of course immediately bee-lined it for the front door, and Wyatt stared at me with his jaw on the floor.
The baby just cried.
Something kicked in with the boys and they were both at my side offering invisible band-aids and asking, Why did YOU fall?” Like I had done it on purpose of course.
Because my mission in life is to fall down.
I sucked it up, made my way inside to my beloved Lazy-boy and cradled Bella who was still crying.
Why was she still crying…she was fine. I caught her.
When I went to put her down on the floor in the living room that’s when I noticed she refused to stand. My 10 month old who has been walking now for about 6 weeks will not put pressure on her right foot.
Now I really feel bad. I’ve never hurt one of the kids before. It’s that mother’s instinct to protect. Here was my baby girl crying in pain and a foot that was bruised, and I didn’t save her. That’s what runs through my mind. Yes, I know it could have been worse. I’m glad it wasn’t.
With a little TLC and 3 X-rays she is doing okay. My nerves are not. She can hobble around on it with a smile, I’m afraid to walk up the stairs.
I hate flip flops.
And I HATE falling.