Sadly, no one ever called to interview me about the Mom Saves Kids From Mountain Lion story. I thought this whole blog thing was supposed to make me a star. Ah, well. The kids would have ratted me out anyway with the real story. At least two of them could corroborate what REALLY happened. (Not that they can even spell corroborate, yet. But I can - thank you, spell check.)
Plus, I think I went overboard with the whole lean, toned arm thing.
Anyway, so here's the real story.............the dots are for dramatic effect.......as the actual story lacks any drama.......
I was on the phone with my mom. When suddenly, my 2 1/2 year old boy continues screaming at the top of his lungs about something or other. It eventually reaches my ears. Unfortunately, my one superpower was all used up. That superpower is what I like to call my "Mommy Patience." When I use this important power, my voice gets very high but my blood pressure remains low. I am able to look a tantruming, gravity-fighting, 2 1/2 year old in the eyes, with a comforting smile on my face and calmly explain the consequences of said behavior. Or, I am able to swiftly REDIRECT the boy to a positive activity so effectively that he actually forgets to yell and scream and be generally upset for at least 2 to 15 minutes. It's very Supernanny of me.
Sadly, these powers must be fueled by coffee, a good night's sleep, perhaps some mommy time the night before, a date with my husband, a good breakfast, well-behaved children, some form of exercise, general happiness and most importantly, a non PMS time of month. Oh, and Kryptonite, of course, will destroy these powers. Or if it's after 3:30 PM.
Unfortunately, this tantrum was occurring at 4:00 PM.
And there might have been some Kryptonite close by.
I had no superpower left.
Instead of channeling Supernanny to help the boy calm down, I channeled my inner 2 1/2 year old and promptly threw a "Missy Fit" as my mom was fond of calling them. I yelled, "It's time for swim lessons!" And picked up the tantrum, swim gear and snacks, and stomped down the stairs, walked to the door when.....(dots are good here).....heard and felt a large CRACK!
And that's it. I broke my foot while walking. I did say walking to the ER doc, not stomping, because let's face it, does it really matter??? The end result is the same. Me with crutches, sitting here with my foot up while my kids stare at me and ask me repeatedly when I'm going to get up.
The best part: After explaining that we were not going to make it to swim lessons, I brought the kids back in the house. I realized I could not walk up the stairs so I crawled. While crawling up the stairs, I look up and there is non-tantruming boy at the top of the stairs watching me. He looks me in the eye and in his very patient voice says, "You a wittle baby. Crawl to me wittle baby."
Guess I deserved that.