I am a serious threat to myself. Thank goodness I only hurt me.
It’s amazing that I was able to carry three babies to term, care for them and raise them without maiming them. Sure, I’ve smacked a few of them in the head with the Wii remote during a grueling tennis match (my backhand is really, really bad) but I’ve never dropped them, set them on fire or misplaced them. I’ve even been heroic at times, putting the lives of my children above my own peril. I was feeding Beena her bottle when she was a few weeks old and since I don’t know how to properly sit in a chair, I had my legs folded up under me. When she was finished and sleeping soundly in my arms, I unfolded myself and stood up meaning to take her into her room for a nap. Since I couldn’t feel my legs because they were also sound asleep, I couldn’t feel the floor under my feet and promptly started falling forward. In a slow motion playback I still see to this day, I tossed the sleeping Beena into the lap of our friend Billy, who was over watching TV with the Ex-Asshole, and I continued falling, twisting my sleeping ankle and then crashing to the floor.
Baby Beena never woke up. Billy stared at her wondering how she fell from the ceiling into his lap. I writhed on the floor in pain. Again. Dad took me to the hospital. Again. I ended up with a sprained ankle and Beena slept through the night for the first time.
See? I could have fallen ON the baby. Nope- I don’t hurt others. That’s not my M.O. Only myself.
My latest injury doesn’t involve falling, although I’ve done that twice on the ice so far this winter. I didn’t fall down stairs, or bump into walls. Not yet, at least. My latest injury happened Monday while I was eating lunch.
In all fairness, everyone has at one time or another burned the roof of their mouth on a hot piece of pizza. And you know how hot that is because sometimes the skin peels away and your tongue can’t help rubbing across those little blisters. You KNOW what I’m talking about.
I, however, managed to burn the OUTSIDE of my mouth with flaming hot pizza napalm. I bit into my homemade pita pizza and the sauce oozed out and missed my mouth, dripping down my chin, searing my skin like acid. I wiped at it with my hand, screaming as my flesh sizzled and then screaming some more because now my hand is sizzling too. The dogs start barking and jumping around because I’m screaming and jumping around and they know that pizza is theirs if I drop it. MR comes upstairs, finds me with an inch gash of melted flesh at the corner of my mouth and runs to break off a piece of aloe.
Couple this burn with the remnants of the teen-worthy zit on the other side of my mouth and I look like a demented vampire that didn’t have enough sense to wipe his face after he ate.
I seriously need to invest in a roll of bubble wrap.