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Sticks & stones may break bones, but an xbox is also effective
Posted by DC Export
on
12:26 AM
This weekend I tried to kick my own ass. Cause, ya know, being 6 months pregnant isn't sore enough.
Saturday I was attempting to help Matt go through old boxes & decide what to keep/give away/trash. He tends to bond with his past objects, so he needs the help with minimizing. With this kid coming like a freight train, we need as few storage items as possible!
So I helped him by coldly tossing a lot of old treasures in the giveaway box. He fought it, as I would if I were him, but the rationale won out. However, he let me know I was ruthless. Then I went through my boxes.
There was my first generation xbox. Ahhh the fun times we had together. But, we don't need it. So I began lifting it out of the box, full intention to sell/give it away, and it slips from my fingers and onto my foot.
Xboxes are surprisingly painful. I need to remember that, should someone break in.
Then Sunday came. All normal until I ran around the coffee table, stepped on the dog bed (which is on hardwood) and bit it. I guess I hit the ground harder than I thought because Matt was quite concerned.
After an initial assessment of myself (I caught myself & fell on my side, breaking my fall with my hands/face/the rug), I knew I hadn't injured the baby at all. Once I expressed this rationally to Matt, the hormones took over & I bawled over my clumsiness for at least 15 minutes. Matt called my mom (a nurse) to confirm my rationalization, but I wouldn't talk to get because I felt I was "too hormonal" (yes, I said that).
We calmed down and grabbed the baby listener to check on Uno. He usually is inactive at the time I fell, so we just wanted to hear his heartbeat. Apparently pressing the listener against him pissed him off, because he kicked/punched/moved every way possible to let us know he disliked all the ruckus. I was never more proud. :)
Today, I'm a little sore, but fine. My cheekbone looks like I had a bad implant done. It's amusing. I had lunch with a girlfriend today who earned herself some UDIs (unidentified drunken injuries) this past weekend & we looked like female boxers commiserating. We got a kick out of it, even if the mommies in panera were giving us concerned looks as if they needed to contact a battered women's shelter. That's all that matters.
I now leave you with this morning's photographic evidence that I went toe to toe with Hilary Swank (the name of our living room rug).
Not the best lighting, but the swelling is obvious. Can't wait for the bruising to set in!
I now will finally publicly confess: I'm a klutz. At least my kid is one tough, expressive nugget.
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Saturday I was attempting to help Matt go through old boxes & decide what to keep/give away/trash. He tends to bond with his past objects, so he needs the help with minimizing. With this kid coming like a freight train, we need as few storage items as possible!
So I helped him by coldly tossing a lot of old treasures in the giveaway box. He fought it, as I would if I were him, but the rationale won out. However, he let me know I was ruthless. Then I went through my boxes.
There was my first generation xbox. Ahhh the fun times we had together. But, we don't need it. So I began lifting it out of the box, full intention to sell/give it away, and it slips from my fingers and onto my foot.
Xboxes are surprisingly painful. I need to remember that, should someone break in.
Then Sunday came. All normal until I ran around the coffee table, stepped on the dog bed (which is on hardwood) and bit it. I guess I hit the ground harder than I thought because Matt was quite concerned.
After an initial assessment of myself (I caught myself & fell on my side, breaking my fall with my hands/face/the rug), I knew I hadn't injured the baby at all. Once I expressed this rationally to Matt, the hormones took over & I bawled over my clumsiness for at least 15 minutes. Matt called my mom (a nurse) to confirm my rationalization, but I wouldn't talk to get because I felt I was "too hormonal" (yes, I said that).
We calmed down and grabbed the baby listener to check on Uno. He usually is inactive at the time I fell, so we just wanted to hear his heartbeat. Apparently pressing the listener against him pissed him off, because he kicked/punched/moved every way possible to let us know he disliked all the ruckus. I was never more proud. :)
Today, I'm a little sore, but fine. My cheekbone looks like I had a bad implant done. It's amusing. I had lunch with a girlfriend today who earned herself some UDIs (unidentified drunken injuries) this past weekend & we looked like female boxers commiserating. We got a kick out of it, even if the mommies in panera were giving us concerned looks as if they needed to contact a battered women's shelter. That's all that matters.
I now leave you with this morning's photographic evidence that I went toe to toe with Hilary Swank (the name of our living room rug).
Not the best lighting, but the swelling is obvious. Can't wait for the bruising to set in!
I now will finally publicly confess: I'm a klutz. At least my kid is one tough, expressive nugget.
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