For my next trick . . .

This is what I think happened yesterday afternoon.

I think I hooked my right foot in a loop of old carton strap and stepped on part of it with my left.  So when I tried to take another right step, my foot didn’t move and I hit the asphalt in what, I’m told, would have been a perfect pratful if I’d been wearing kneeguards.

I wasn’t.

What’s worse, I was holding hands with Janie at the time and took her down with me.  We did let go on the way, so all the fall did was skin her elbow and scare the hell out of her.

My husband saw to her, while I sat up and assessed the damage as best I could without taking my pants off in the parking lot: two stinging knees and two scuffed palms.  I didn’t mind so much about the palms, since they kept the pratfall from turning into a face plant, but I was worried about the knees, since they weren’t in the best of shape before I decided to test the theory that walking is just unsuccessful falling.*

Sunny pulled the strap off my foot and put it on the curb, “So you won’t trip on it again, Mommy.”  Thanks, kid.

I decided I was fine and after I figured out how to get up, we proceeded to the grocery store, a tear-streaked Janie glued to my side.  Halfway through, I was hobbling and trying not to show Janie how much it hurt.

When we arrived home, I checked both knees and discovered a spectacular abrasion on my right knee and a rainbow** contusion on my left.

Luckily, nothing is broken, though my right knee doesn’t care to bend or straighten .  And my upper arms, which apparently absorbed most of the impact, ache.  

But I have to say, the kids were very good the rest of the day—they even uncovered most of the carpet in their playroom*** without complaining. For forty minutes.

Plus, I got a blog entry out of it . . .  and a chance to practice my First Aid skills with Wonderwoman sterile pads and Spiderman medical tape.

So while I can’t recommend the experience, it could have been a lot worse—I could have the Bat Signal on my nose.


*And succeeded.

**If rainbows favored tones of mustard and prune and were given to clinical depression.

*** Which looked like the sales floor of FAO Schwartz after an 6.2 earthquake.


10 thoughts on “For my next trick . . .

  1. Wow, Sarah, that could have been a lot worse. Sorry to hear about the nasty cuts and bruises but so glad yo didn’t break anything. Did you tear the shop off a strip for leaving it in the car park?

    • I didn’t . . . It wasn’t the store’s fault a customer littered, or that I’m the only person on earth who can trip over a thin strip of plastic in an otherwise bare surface

      If I’d fallen because of cracked concrete, they would have heard about it.

  2. Ouch. I’m so glad it wasn’t worse. Today my husband fell while giving all the kids and their buddies rides on the back of his bike. Thank goodness no child was hurt but he wasn’t so lucky. The bike handle jabbed him right above his belly button, leaving him with a skinned abdomen. He didn’t look at it until he got home and even then just lifted his ripped shirt and watched all our facial expressions. We winced, we cringed, we recoiled at the sight. Poor guy. Poor you.

    • Whew—now that could have been a lot worse. Send my sympathies to your husband!

      Janie won’t even look at my knee but Sunny kept touching it while I was trying to bandage.

  3. Aw hell, Sarah! I’m wondering how you’re feeling as the hours tick tick tick by …

    The last time I did something like this, I really hurt myself. Shortly after, I went to see a homeopathic doc. I said to him, “I’m so clumsy, always running into things and tripping over myself.”

    He looked me smack in the eyes and said, “No you’re not. You’re just in a hurry. You need to slow down, slow your whole life down.”

    I was so unhinged by his mind-reading abilities I never went back.

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