I can never go back to preschool. Maren's preschool, to be exact. After what happened this morning, I'm far too mortified to ever show my face there again! Or until 10:45 this morning, when I have to go pick her up.
My husband will tell you that although I'm not a bad dancer, I seem to display an appalling lack of physical grace at home. I can't tell you how many times I've walked into the sharp corner of the foot board of our bed, leaving a huge nasty bruise on my thigh. I regularly cut corners too close, whacking my hips on the kitchen island or slamming my upper arms on the door frames. Just yesterday I hit my knee on the lower cabinet in the bathroom, right before I was to visit a physical therapist for that very knee. Given my track record, I guess what happened today shouldn't have been much of a surprise.
I walked Maren to school and while we waited for the teachers to open the doors, she wanted to go play on the swings on the gravel playground. I left her with her friends and walked toward the classroom door to sign her in. I was in the process of saying 'hello' to a mom that I just met at a birthday party on Saturday when I caught the toe of my sandal on the lip of the blacktop and WHOOMP--down I went! Right in front of that mom, and all the other assorted moms and dads who were standing around waiting to drop off their kids. It was no small fall, either. I believe the technical, IOC-recognized term for that maneuver is "ass over teakettle". My sunglasses flew off and every shred of dignity I had went with them.
All the moms were completely shocked and horrified and asked if I was okay, to which I replied that I was, aside from being COMPLETELY MORTIFIED. I had rocks stuck in my knees and hands and the side of my leg was all scratched up. At which point I brushed off the rocks and threw my hands up in salute just like the men's gymnastics team! Okay, not really, but that would have been really funny and very a propos. What I really did was get Maren into the classroom and speedwalk across the playground just as fast as my scraped-up legs could carry me so that I could be alone with my shame and embarrassment.
When I came home I called my sweet husband, who laughed like a hyena when I told him my plight and then offered me the loan of his bike helmet for when I take Maren to school on Thursday.
Oh, it's okay, I was laughing too. Actually I was doing that hysterical lauging/crying thing because now that I think back on it, I must have looked pretty hilarious--such was the spectacle and grandeur of my fall. And now I get to be known all year by the other preschool parents as "that Mom who fell". Hey, at least they'll all know who I am, right?
While I go nurse my shattered dignity, let's watch one of my all-time favorite YouTube videos. I know it's not nice to laugh at others' misfortunes, but really, this is just hilarious.