I am a klutz.
I am the Queen of all That is embarrassingly Clumsy. All Hail Queen Klutz.
Some days, it is all I can do to walk upright 2 feet without tripping on the air in front of my feet. And I have always been like this.
I've tried to improve my balance and gracefulness. I've taken ballet. I was told I looked like an Orangutan having a seizure. I've tried Yoga. Mr X nearly called 911 because he thought I was having a stroke. I do pilates. Notice that I said do and not did. It's not that I don't look ridiculous because I do. It's just that I do it in my living room when no one else is home so no one minds that I look like I have been possessed.
Girl X has inherited my, um..... gracefulness? Yeah. Because I have so much of that. How about my need to always be wearing a helmet and shin guards because the Earth might spin today and that means I will fall. And fall often.
Yup. That about sums that up.
I know what it feels like to lose a pencil in a cast because the itching is making you crazy. When the Dr cut my foot cast off after 6 weeks I had 5 pencils, 3 pens, a pixi stick, and my brother's Darth Vader action figure Light Saber thing in there. The Dr just looked at me like I had 3 heads.
My pinky will never again go straight on it's own. I got it caught in a drill press while I was wearing gloves. It was bent so far back my entire finger turned a lovely shade of eggplant.
Scars? Yup. Got plenty of those. There's the one on my knee from when I thought I could cut an apple in half in one chop. While it sat on my knee. With a very sharp knife. I was 7. Remember when I said we weren't the smartest kids in the neighborhood? Yeah. I meant me too.
Girl X hasn't had a cast yet but give her time. My first wasn't until I was 12. We have had to make a few trips to the ER for her. Like the year she went backwards on her tummy down the never-ending slide. In the rain. In a skirt. She was 5. She ripped her skin off from her chest to her tummy and didn't say a word until she got home from school 3 hours later. It was ugly. I cried. So, naturally, she started crying.
She's fallen off the monkey bars. Once a week for a few months before I finally said "no more monkey bars". Now she just doesn't tell me when she falls off them.
I hope Baby X takes after his dad. We're lucky we have insurance but I think it's supposed to be a bad thing when the ER Dr's know you by name.
They see me and mutter to each other "I can't believe she's still alive!" and "Haven't they learned to keep her away from all things sharp?"
Last night I made a beautiful dinner. Roast beef, Mashed red potatoes, Mushroom gravy (and I hate gravy but love this stuff!), veggies. I did it all without hurting myself.
Until I tried to take the roast out of the dish.
It slipped right off my fork and splashed back into the baking dish. Grease. Everywhere.
Then I started to burn. I had managed to burn my boob. It hurt. I yelped.
Sadly, this is not the first time I have done something so stupid. Even more sad..........
It won't be the last.