Monday –Face K'nectn to the Floor
Mar. 29th, 2010 09:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
“You have bar-fight syndrome,” my husband told me on Sunday when I complained that the muscles in my arms and shoulders were sore from bracing myself for my fall the previous day.
I’ve never been in a bar fight, so I’ll take his word for it. I look a little like I’ve been in a bar fight – a swollen upper lip that makes me look like I have a mild overbite, a thin red line across the bridge of my nose where I’m pretty sure my nose broke ever-so-slightly when it slammed into the tiles (it doesn’t really look different, but I heard a definite crack! when my face made contact with the floor), and slight swelling under both eyes. I thought I was going to have a couple of shiners, but apparently when the top of my head hit the wall, it absorbed a lot of the force that my face would have taken had the wall been a bit further away. I may well have a concussion, but at least I appear presentable if a bit roughed up. I look like I’ve been in a small tussle rather than a major brawl. The tussle, however, was not with anyone, it was with a thing. Specifically, it was with a small plastic K’nex toy (similar to a Tinker Toy) that my 5-year-old son left lying on the living room floor.
I’ve stepped on these things before, but on Saturday I managed to step on it in just the right way that my ankle twisted and I stumbled forward until I landed on my face. My son stood back, hesitantly, and quietly asked, “Are you okay, Mommy?” He did not rush forward to help me: his experience with injured adults is that they tend to shout and swear a lot, and he isn’t fond of yelling. His father’s big goofy feet are the ones that usually trip over his toys, so it is Jeff’s reactions that have taught my son to avoid injured adults; my small dainty feet usually manage to walk between them. This weekend he learned that when mommies hurt themselves bad enough, they can be just as cranky as a daddy.
“No! I’m not!” I was busy feeling my nose to see if the shape was different than what I was used to. The crunch sound I’d heard had me a little freaked out. No blood: that was a good sign. My knee hurt where it had hit the tile covered raised step in front of the door. My head hurt from where I’d made contact with the frame of the front door. My front teeth hurt, but were all intact. I could feel my upper lip starting to swell on the left side. It occurred to me to put ice on my face to keep the swelling down, but I didn’t feel much like moving for a few minutes.
“Pick up your &*^! toys,” I told my son. “Every last one of them! NOW!”
He didn’t argue. He began gathering up toys and putting them away, glancing at me once in awhile to make sure I wasn’t dead or about to come after him. It’s amazing how fast a living room with no toys can become a living room with toys on every horizontal surface. He doesn’t like to play in his room alone; he wants to be near his grownups. It's also amazing how fast a little boy can clean up a disaster area when he's certain that if he doesn't his mother will throw away everything he owns.
Eventually I staggered to my feet and limped into the kitchen fill a Ziploc bag with ice to put against my aching face. We needed to run into town, so I woke my husband to let him know we were leaving and that the next time he saw me, I was going to look like I’d been punched in the face.
“Hopefully the neighbors will believe me and not think you're wife-beating scum and start giving you dirty looks,” I told him.
"Hopefully."
“If they look skeptical, I can always say it was my own fault for mouthing off to you.”
“Heh. That’ll learn you."
"To be fair, this is the fault of a guy with your DNA in him. But I can't exactly throw him out of the house for giving me a fat lip and a broken nose, since he hasn't even started kindergarten yet." I pondered for a moment. "I think he's sorry, but if it happens again I'm throwing his toys out of the house for good."
"That's not going to go over well."
"You should have seen me going head over heals. Next time, it'll be the toys that take the brunt."
My son's reaction to losing all his toys will be nothing short of a hysterical meltdown. We'll try enforcing the rules about picking up after himself first. Who knows, maybe by the time my face heals I won't want to chunk each and ever K'nex toy I find strait into the trashcan. Time will tell.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
“You have bar-fight syndrome,” my husband told me on Sunday when I complained that the muscles in my arms and shoulders were sore from bracing myself for my fall the previous day.
I’ve never been in a bar fight, so I’ll take his word for it. I look a little like I’ve been in a bar fight – a swollen upper lip that makes me look like I have a mild overbite, a thin red line across the bridge of my nose where I’m pretty sure my nose broke ever-so-slightly when it slammed into the tiles (it doesn’t really look different, but I heard a definite crack! when my face made contact with the floor), and slight swelling under both eyes. I thought I was going to have a couple of shiners, but apparently when the top of my head hit the wall, it absorbed a lot of the force that my face would have taken had the wall been a bit further away. I may well have a concussion, but at least I appear presentable if a bit roughed up. I look like I’ve been in a small tussle rather than a major brawl. The tussle, however, was not with anyone, it was with a thing. Specifically, it was with a small plastic K’nex toy (similar to a Tinker Toy) that my 5-year-old son left lying on the living room floor.
I’ve stepped on these things before, but on Saturday I managed to step on it in just the right way that my ankle twisted and I stumbled forward until I landed on my face. My son stood back, hesitantly, and quietly asked, “Are you okay, Mommy?” He did not rush forward to help me: his experience with injured adults is that they tend to shout and swear a lot, and he isn’t fond of yelling. His father’s big goofy feet are the ones that usually trip over his toys, so it is Jeff’s reactions that have taught my son to avoid injured adults; my small dainty feet usually manage to walk between them. This weekend he learned that when mommies hurt themselves bad enough, they can be just as cranky as a daddy.
“No! I’m not!” I was busy feeling my nose to see if the shape was different than what I was used to. The crunch sound I’d heard had me a little freaked out. No blood: that was a good sign. My knee hurt where it had hit the tile covered raised step in front of the door. My head hurt from where I’d made contact with the frame of the front door. My front teeth hurt, but were all intact. I could feel my upper lip starting to swell on the left side. It occurred to me to put ice on my face to keep the swelling down, but I didn’t feel much like moving for a few minutes.
“Pick up your &*^! toys,” I told my son. “Every last one of them! NOW!”
He didn’t argue. He began gathering up toys and putting them away, glancing at me once in awhile to make sure I wasn’t dead or about to come after him. It’s amazing how fast a living room with no toys can become a living room with toys on every horizontal surface. He doesn’t like to play in his room alone; he wants to be near his grownups. It's also amazing how fast a little boy can clean up a disaster area when he's certain that if he doesn't his mother will throw away everything he owns.
Eventually I staggered to my feet and limped into the kitchen fill a Ziploc bag with ice to put against my aching face. We needed to run into town, so I woke my husband to let him know we were leaving and that the next time he saw me, I was going to look like I’d been punched in the face.
“Hopefully the neighbors will believe me and not think you're wife-beating scum and start giving you dirty looks,” I told him.
"Hopefully."
“If they look skeptical, I can always say it was my own fault for mouthing off to you.”
“Heh. That’ll learn you."
"To be fair, this is the fault of a guy with your DNA in him. But I can't exactly throw him out of the house for giving me a fat lip and a broken nose, since he hasn't even started kindergarten yet." I pondered for a moment. "I think he's sorry, but if it happens again I'm throwing his toys out of the house for good."
"That's not going to go over well."
"You should have seen me going head over heals. Next time, it'll be the toys that take the brunt."
My son's reaction to losing all his toys will be nothing short of a hysterical meltdown. We'll try enforcing the rules about picking up after himself first. Who knows, maybe by the time my face heals I won't want to chunk each and ever K'nex toy I find strait into the trashcan. Time will tell.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 03:11 am (UTC)All the while, it's the munchkin who is the culprit!
Be certain to take pics so that you can guilt trip him when he's older
no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 04:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 01:47 pm (UTC)And, yes, it sucks to be the boyfriend/husband of a woman who gets hurt. One of my exes fell down a flight of stairs outside her apartment and got scraped and bruised pretty badly, and the ER folks kept shooting me dirty looks.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 02:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 02:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 02:03 pm (UTC)My lip is almost back to normal this morning, so I don't look so goofy. :)
no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 02:04 pm (UTC)I'm gonna say this and then *DUCK*
Date: 2010-03-30 02:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 03:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 11:33 pm (UTC)We want pictures!
no subject
Date: 2010-04-01 03:00 am (UTC)Actually, I look close to normal. My lip is still a bit swollen, but it's not so bad that you notice it if you aren't looking for it. My eyes were only puffy for a couple of days.
I watch my step a little closer now...
Re: I'm gonna say this and then *DUCK*
Date: 2010-04-01 03:01 am (UTC)My step son turns 21 this Sunday, by the way.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-01 03:02 am (UTC)