This is NOT a date!

Yesterday was not a good day for my son. He just woke up with an attitude and when I told him to go upstairs to find his "nice" self he told me that his "nice self" ran away and would only come back if I got him a 3DS. He will be missed...

So after getting in trouble like forty-seven times, we all went out to wait for the bus. He barely gave me his cheek to kiss and then he was gone. I hoped that after school would prove to be better, but that didn't pan out for me either. At dinner he got in trouble for antagonizing his sisters and not sitting at the table properly. He then got in trouble for tackling his sister and making her cry. Not. A. Good. Day.

When I tried to tuck him in, he refused to look at me. I crawled next to him and tried to put my head under his face--to see his eyes and make him laugh. His response?
"Eeww--I don't know what you think you are doing, but I am not going to kiss  you on the lips. This is NOT a date!"

And to think that at one time he wanted to marry me!

SOOOO Clumsy

So I fell the other day. On my face. No, LITERALLY on my face. At the elementary school. During their Fall Festival. In front of both principals, And eleven innocent bystanders. The thing with falling is it is SO funny. When it's someone else. The last time I fell in front of people was before I was married. I was on a date at the movies (Patch Adams, to be specific) and was walking up to my seat carrying popcorn and a drink (some think THAT is the funny part...my date making ME carry everything...they may be on to something!). Somehow I lost my footing (evidently the three feet that movie theaters allow for their stairs is not quite big enough for me). I'm not sure what exactly happened, but suddenly I was teetering back and forth yelling, "Yaaaaugghghhhhooooooohhhhhhhhhhhnoooooooooo!" I somehow managed to balance the drink and popcorn and to land on my feet. That was NOT the case at Fall Fest. My children were enjoying hot pretzels with mustard (one was actually only enjoying the mustard...) a little too much and my husband wanted a root beer. I ordered and paid, then headed to the other side of the table for napkins. The rest of the story is a bit blurry. No, I wasn't drinking and I'm only on subscription meds--no drugs or self-medicating. So why is it such a blur? Embarrassment? Pain? I don't know, but unlike the Patch Adams fall, this one tore up my arm, my leg, the side of my foot, a hip...and I'm pretty sure I twisted BOTH ankles. I'm not certain, but I think I may have tried to turn myself into a pretzel during that move. How else would you explain scrapes on either side and the bottoms of my feet? A bruise on my head AND my hip? Scrapes on my knees AND my forearm? You can't. It must have been a pretzel situation. As funny as it was to those watching (and you KNOW it was funny!), people refrained from laughing at me until they knew that everything was okay. There were even three boys sitting on a curb--they couldn't have been older than eleven--who asked me quite seriously if I was okay. THEIR mothers are doing something right! I don't know if I would have been that respectfull, I mean, that was funny stuff! Not that it felt (or FEELS for that matter) funny. In fact, I can't even put my arm down--while typing, while sleeping...it's a constant reminder of how very funny I can be. When I'm falling at least!