Limping through Life
I am limping.
To make it worse, my wobbly, awkward hobble makes the other parts of my body ache. Which means by bedtime I am an aching mass of tension, and feeling very sorry for myself. And I don’t get a massage or even a little sympathy. Instead, as soon as one of the kids starts screaming, for water, or a pee, or a monster in the bed, I am met with a sudden suspicious stillness next to me. Yes, if you close your eyes, don’t let your eyeballs twitch, regulate your breathing, add a gentle snore and a muscle spasm or two, I might believe you are asleep. Except nobody can sleep with the shouts reverberating down the hall, and you will ask me what was wrong, as soon as I get back to bed. Without fail.
But let’s discuss husbands and selective hearing another day. It is an inexhaustible topic and we could be here forever. (I have just googled “bobbit”.)
I was asked to speak at my daughter’s School Open Day on Wednesday evening. So I thought it best to dress up to create the right impression. I was going for young and fun so I tugged on my white Versace jeans, a shirt and my platform heels (I NEVER wear heels) and teetered off to the school. I gave my talk, which by my watch lasted less than a minute – a full A4 piece of paper is deceptively quick to read – and listened to everyone else waffling on, in comparison to my speed reading, before I figured it was appropriate for me to leave, this involved some sidling I admit.
So, I hustled and teetered off to the car, paying no attention to the lack of outdoor overhead lighting. My foot disappeared down a hole, cunningly covered with lawn and I gracefully pirouetted “a over t” landing with my full weight, and considerable momentum (maybe it seemed faster because I was higher?) on my knee. I rose after taking a moment or two to curse under my breath, dusted off my grass stained jeans (a gift from my older sister, so yes, really Versace) and gathering my dignity, limped to my car, significantly slower than previously. Which is a shame as it has since come to light that I was spotted, slinking off you understand. I have been avoiding the Principal.
It would be ok if it were an isolated incident. But like my 4-year-old son, I still seem to be finding my feet and learning to judge distance and space and size. Unlike my son, it gets harder to pick myself up. But nothing a slobbery kiss and a bit of vampire blood (Gentian Violet) can’t fix.
Eventually.