I know many of you already know this, but I'm terribly clumsy. It really is a wonder that I made it through my childhood and part of my adult life without anything breaking, fracturing or spraining. However, I have seen my fair share of bruises . . . and today is no exception. Well, actually, it happened a few days ago, but it took me this long to meander to my basement to tell you about it. On Tuesday night, I took Caleb upstairs to his room to get ready for bed. On my way back down to get his bottle, my foot slipped on the top stair and down we went. Only a few stairs mind you, and on carpet (thank goodness!), but oh the pain! Poor little Caleb didn't know what was going on. He was just holding on to mommy like "okay, now what?". He didn't start crying until I yelled for Gabe to come get him - I think my yelling scared him more than taking a bumpy ride down our stairs. Needless to say, I have a very large bruise in a very unmentionable place, along with many other bruises on my arms from trying to stop myself from going further. And I am so sore!
This is all well and good, except that this was not the first time. A few years ago on Thanksgiving, I did the exact same thing holding Sophie. I was at my Grandma's and was headed downstairs to go get Amy and Andy, when my foot slipped and I went down. That was far worse though. Wooden stairs and I went down about a half of a flight. I seriously thought I broke something - there were tears. That bruise caused me to sleep on the right side of my body for a week!
Moral of the story: my husband doesn't allow me to walk around in socks anymore - it's shoes or non-slip slippers for me (ironic that they're called slippers, huh?)
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