Tuesday, October 19, 2010

I Believe I Can Fly

In previous posts, I have relayed a couple stories documenting my lack of gracefulness. It is actually an ongoing joke with my husband and kids because I am constantly displaying evidence to support the theory that God simply didn't endow me with that particular quality. Ironically, I am quite athletic...but it is more of a  "bull in a china shop" athleticism than anything else. It is a good thing I breed little boys, because most have them have been blessed (or cursed as their daddy would say!) with the genes of their mother.

With that background information, I can now proceed with divulging one of my most painful, albeit hilarious, series of unfortunate events. I bring about most of my trouble (and bumps and bruises) myself. After 30+ years of knowing myself, one would assume that I would have "learned my lesson". Alas, I am a glutton for punishment...or so it would seem.

When moving into our first home, my hubby was already in Iraq which left me in charge of "the move". Unfortunately, I had just given birth to little boy #2 and the idea of  moving - even out of my rocking chair- was more than a little overwhelming. Luckily for me, my mother-in-law organized an "army" of sorts to coordinate and execute the details of getting my little family from point A to point B.  I was merely put in charge of directing traffic. God bless a MIL on a mission!

I didn't care where any of our stuff went except for my devoted rocking chair, kids' necessities (which really was a lot) and my breast pump. Everything that I didn't feel that I needed immediately was designated to the newly-purchased storage shed. Included in these un-necessities were ALL of my hubby's possessions (he was going to be gone for the next 12 months...I had plenty of time organize it....later). And as you can imagine, when working with a crew who I've never met and didn't know me from Jane Doe down the street, none of my possessions sparked an emotional connection or feelings of protection from our "moving crew". Items were piled, stacked, shoved, pushed and tossed into the storage shed. I loved having all of the help, don't get me wrong, but the mission was "move" not "careful". But in that moment of relief, I didn't care how they got our stuff into our new house or storage shed.

Fast forward a couple months and I am feeling a little more ambitious and wanting to tackle the nightmare we so lovingly called "the storage shed". Maneuvering wasn't easy or tactical. The stuff I really wanted to get to was at the back of the shed. So of course the most logical way of getting to it.....was to scale the mountain of our items. In my mind that was obviously the "path of least resistance"...or physical exertion.

Now, I was a young strong woman (read determined and stubborn). I was confident in my physical and athletic ability to not only scale the rickety mountain of things, locate and rescue the desired treasure and then jump (yes, I said jump!) down the precarious mountain and out of the shed....successfully. Unfortunately, scenarios that I envision in my head don't always play out as planned (you've read All the sexy mammas, right??) 

As I negotiate my take off, descent, and landing I apparently didn't factor in the trajectory and unstable terrain. Not only did I have to jump down and out at an angle, I had to make sure I didn't hit any part of the door frame, or land on the toys that scattered the ground like land mines waiting to join in on my demise. None of this crossed my mind before attempting my exit. Hind sight is 20/20 people!

I take off (I'm strong and athletic, right) certain that my landing will score at least an 8. My feet get tangled in some piece of crap that was sticking up which deters my original flight plan causing me to make an emergency (read devastating) landing on top of the "Riding International Tractor with scoop" that grandpa so lovingly bought my son. Despite my obvious pain, I was too worried and horrified that any of my new neighbors may have witnessed this failed attempt at flying and wander over to check on my status. I jumped up threw the assaulting toys back into the shed and walked ever-so-delicately into my house where my 2 sweet boys were none the wiser to mommy's "accident".

In the house, I proceeded to lay on the floor in a heap of bruises, scrapes, damaged ego and what felt like brokenness everywhere and cried my little heart out. I had to call in sick to work the next day because not only was it painful just to breath, but my face, neck, and shoulders were black-and-blue. I was certain someone would report my poor unknowing, out-of-the-country hubby for suspected spouse abuse all because his overly confident wife had a moment of disrespect for the laws of gravity.

14 comments:

K said...

When I was 21, I had to enter a house trailer from the back door, which did not have steps. Instead of simply putting one knee up and pulling myself into the trailer, I got the bright idea it would be much cooler to jump up and land on my knees in the doorway, impressing many.

The instant I left the ground my brain said "Not a good plan, K." Alas, it was too late. I landed with all my weight on my left knee, right on the metal transition, splitting open my knee and chipping off a large chunk of my kneecap. I laid in the trailer with my head in the bathroom, body in the hallway, and uninjured leg sticking out the door, cursing and sobbing loudly whilst everyone else literally rolled on the ground laughing.

We were totally separated at birth, kid. :P

Mom vs. the boys said...

yeah, totally something I would do. It always seems more graceful in your mind and them wham! what was that? so embarrasing!

sara said...

Oh, you poor thing. I do that all the time, imagine things and then they NEVER happen exactly like I imagined them. I am soooo ungraceful. I love reading your blog. I left you some blogger awards. www.8aplenty.blogspot.com
Congratulations!

Betty Manousos @ CUT AND DRY said...

Yeah, quite something I would do. I'm with Sara...I imagine things that theynever happen. argh!

Have a lovely day!

B :))

Betty Manousos @ CUT AND DRY said...

And thanks so much for stopping by...and your most generous comment. It means a lot!!

B :)

sara said...

LOL...this is sometimes the only adult conversation I get also:) It's really easy, you just copy the awards to a new post, share 7 things about yourself and pass it on to 15 blogs that you like as well. Then you let those blogs know about the award. Take care and no more stunts, hahaha!

Vic said...

oh u poor mama! damn this shit happens all the freaking time.....hurts real damn bad but you got up and acted as if nothing had happened....but then i bet your in a crap load of pain later.....oooooouch! xoxo

Holly said...

Yikes, you sound about as graceful as me! We never learn do we? lol

Mothers' Hideaway said...

OMG you're my twin! I have in fact broken a toe walking down the stairs. I took a picture of said toe and sent it to my husband the next day as photographic evidence that my toe, then black, blue and crooked, was indeed....broken.

Mel Cole said...

Oh dear! How painful that sad experience of you.

B said...

Haha - you poor thing! I am glad (selfishly!) that I'm not the only "bull in a china shop"! I'm very clumsy and usually fall victim to not having thought things out well :)

Mommy NaniBooboo said...

This reminds me of my favorite song from the TV show Greatest American Hero:
"Believe it or not, I'm walking on air. I never thought I could feel so free-ee-eee..."
*crash*

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The Things We Find Inside

Mama Lisha said...

thanks for stopping by... you poor thing!