The Face That Only A Mother Would Love Saves The Planet
The first thing my mother said about me after I was born was that I had a “face only a mother would love.” According to the doctor, I’d been in some really awkward birthing position, shoved up against some bone or another, and that lead to my black eyes and nose so swollen it took up damn near half of my face.
I politely, respectfully disagree.
Not with the whole “face only a mother would love” because obviously I found someone who if he doesn’t LOVE me, at least tolerates me and my face, but with the “awkward birthing position.”
No, I’m pretty sure that Baby Aunt Becky had lost her way while trying to get out of the womb and was desperately battling to exit THE WRONG WAY. Or maybe I slipped and fell, cracking gnomish my face open. That’s probably more like it.
With genetics like mine it’s a wonder I ever learned to properly walk.
I suppose the term “walk” is debatable since I have tripped over lines in my Pergo floor, routinely fall UP the stairs and just last summer fell through the screen door. All stone-cold sober as a matter of fact.
My father, tasked with teaching me to ride a bike, swears I didn’t learn until I was close to 11 but I think that it was probably closer to 14 by which time many of my friends had cars, so I didn’t ever really get a chance to hone my sweet-ass bike riding skills.
The problem with being a Super Klutz, Overachiever is this (besides those pesky ER co-pays) you have to explain to people how you sustained injuries like these:
*Twisting your ankle while walking–NOT running–down stairs
*Breaking a toe while making a sandwich
Or, maybe even THIS:
Das BOOT.
This would be what I got to wear during most of my pregnancy with Mimi, thanks to a miscalculation on my part where I slipped on a rogue BABY GATE and broke some tendons in my fucking foot.
No, there was no fire. I wasn’t saving cuddly kittens from a burning building or curing world hunger. I was simply walking down stairs and made a misstep that cost me a whole hell of a lot of pain, suffering and dignity (what dignity?).
(As a side note, people who wear walking casts are not retarded. Just because I was wearing Das Boot does not mean that I was any stupider than I was before. It did not require that you speak to me in slow small sentences.
“Dooooooooo yooouuuuuu haaaavvveeee annnyyyy queeesstttiiiiooonnnss?”
The only question I have, mother fucker, is how far up my ass I can shove my boot before I hit your small intestine.
Also? People with disabilities don’t deserve to be STARED at. Just because I was pregnant and crippled did not mean that I was any more of a freak show than I was before. So take a picture, motherfucker, I fucking dare you. I’ll shove that camera so far down your throat you’ll be flashing people for months.
ASS.
So to you people with disabilities that don’t go away after months in a walking cast? I am sorry. Genuinely. People treat you like a fucking freak show and seriously, wow, that fucking sucks.)
Anyway. Coming up with new and inventive ways to explain away dumb ass injuries is always really tricky because you can only say, “I broke my toe making a sandwich” and get the standard blink, blink, blink response before you realize that you have to come up with something more…heroic.
Like, “I broke my toe making a sandwich in a third world country for a starving kid!” Said with just the right amount of conviction, you could pull it off, because it would be pretty hard to question that! What kind of assbag would LIE about flying to a third world country to make a sandwich for a starving kid!?!
Or even, “I twisted my ankle running down the stairs of a burning building trying to save a basket of orphaned puppies!” Everyone loves a feel-good story about adorable fluffy puppies or kitties. Just watch the news!
Now I’m just going to have to teach Amelia to carefully explain that this:
Is from a wicked bar fight. When people question how a baby got into a bar fight, she’ll have to carefully say, “You should SEE the other baby…” And then, BAM! the scar will be easily explained away. No one can question a kid with a scar that takes up half of her head (it’s, well, stretched since this picture was taken).
Twitter informed me last night that I’m not the only one with really ridiculous injuries which sent me to bed laughing my ASS off. Especially the conversation in which I was planning to sue the sandwich for breaking my toe and appear on both the People’s Court and Maury (paternity testing)(duh) for it.
THIS is why I adore Twitter. The mix of the absurd and the sublime.
So gather ’round Das Boot, The Internet, and tell Your Aunt Becky if you’ve had any wacky injuries.
In fourth grade, I sprained my big toe so badly it turned purple and black for a month. And I had to wear a giant hot pink sock in place of a shoe.
How did I sprain my big toe, do you ask?
I was jumping over a rope. And it was lying ON THE GROUND.
Idiot.
Bwahahaha! *wipes eyes* I don’t mean to laugh but, damn, woman, that’s a good one!
Does one actually “break” a tendon, Aunt Becky? *Sigh*…why do I think this is part of the problem?
I’m pretty sure the tendons were all fucked up and shit.
LOLOL…now THAT’S clear….
I once needed surgery on my hand to repair the nerve damaged I did with a very pointy kitchen knife that I was using to fix the leg of a chair – well before it slipped and plunged into the palm of my hand.
I know, I know! Sharp knives should never be used in place of actually tools. But I was being lazy
It took about 12 months for the feeling in my finger to come back. Let this be a lesson to you all. May you learn from my suffering.
I have very little sensation for heat or cold on my the palms of my hands thanks to years of carrying hot trays.
Also? TOTALLY something I would do.
*runs and hides knives*
When I was about ten, I was over at a (girl) friend’s house playing and she wanted to ride bikes. Specifically, she wanted to ride MY bike (because it was cast of TEH AWESOME). So, we traded bikes and rode off. As I looked behind me to make sure she (as a girl) could handle the 10 speeds of unadulterated awesome, the bike I was on came to a sudden stop and I launched forward, over the handbars, and split my chin wide open.
I’d say we get smarter about love as we get older, but with all the divorce, hookers and STD’s out there, I’m not so sure.
While I am inherently clumsy, I don’t have any injuries to report as a result. However, having had foot surgery last year and being on crutches for two months, then having my own boot (which I called a moon boot). I know just what you mean about people staring. I used to go grocery shopping and get in those motorized wheel chairs. I was amazed at how people avoided my eyes and such. Not to mention the bitch that cut me off as I was rounding a corner like we were in traffic!
Oh, the grocery store was the bane of my existence when I was in Das Boot. It was amazing how people would hover behind me only to then cut me off and nearly knock me over. Seriously, something is wrong with people.
Like the numerous times I wake my self up in the middle of the night bleeding because a cut my face with my thumb nail.
Or the just look at my leg the wrong way and the bruises appear.
Or when I slammed my thumb in the pickup truck door and my husband kind of yelled/aske…”What did you do that for?”
I could go on all day! Maybe I should put on football pads and mittens as standard daily attire?
We should invest in crash suits.
It was actually my middle finger not my thumb that got slammed..fitting actually, but try and figure out how I managed that!
What the hell? I want to hear more about the bar fight.
Seriously, worst damage I have done is break my big toe in five places. How many bones are in that thing anyway? Now I could say I was rushing to save my baby from a house fire, but nawh, that would just be pure bullshit. I did the classic “slide” down the stairs. I did have my baby in my arms though and risked life and limb and big toe to make sure she didn’t get hurt. Which she didn’t. Except poor me. My toe is freaking deformed and does not fit properly into pretty lady shoes that good anymore. Thus ending my modeling career. Ok, I didn’t actually have a modeling career to ruin, quit being so picky, because if I was a model it would have been ruined. So, ya, I broke my toe.
Mimi was defending her mother’s reputation from a thug baby.
Or maybe she was born with a neural tube defect and her skull was deformed and she had neurosurgery at 3 weeks old because part of her brain was outside of her skull.
Personally, the thug baby story is less freaky.
I tore ligaments in my knee and had to have surgery and was on crutches for 3 months because I FELL OFF THE COUCH.
Oh Gail, you and I are more alike than I’d thought.
My high-school had lots of steps. It was weird, there were a few classes in the basement of the building, then the first floor was *strictly* (God forbid if we strayed) for elementary school, and then the top floor was for the rest of the high-schoolers.
I fucking hate steps. Especially spiral ones.
So, I’m trudging UP and I had finally made it to the top when I trip. And fall UP the steps. And then guess what happened Aunt Becky! GUESS. I fell *down* the steps. And I took the entire long line of students behind me with me.
I think I tripped over a dust particle.
Anyways, I didn’t manage to kill anyone or sustain any serious injuries, but it hurt like hell and we won’t go into what was bruised.
Oh Nyx, just, oh. Wow.
Falling up steps due to dust particles…I trip on shadows.
I do that too. Not as often as tripping over dust particles though.
I do that too. Not as often as tripping over dust particles though. And yea Aunt Becky – it’s like that.
Fucking dust!
I have now dislocated my shoulder, not once, but TWICE while sleeping.
We must be related somehow. If I had a family tree somewhere I’d be willing to bet that you’re on it.
I’m not particularly clumsy, and I think I’ve got bones made of steel…so I’ve been fairly lucky.
The “lamest” injury I ever got was when I ran with scissors (in 6th grade). That is one piece of advice I should have taken. Got a cut near my eye & had to walk around with that yellow stuff the school nurse sprays on injuries for the rest of the day. Come to think of it, that is right around the time my social life took a downturn…
The most severe injury I ever sustained would be when I chipped my cheekbone. I was coaching cheerleading and stepped in to spot a stunt. Got a bony elbow to the eye. Effer swelled up instantly. The doctor diagnosed (w/o x-ray) that I had chipped my cheekbone and that the floating mass was the piece of bone. I had that knot in my face for quite some time.
So you really did run with scissors? That’s kinda awesome. Sucks that you got hurt, but man, that makes a GREAT blog post. You should blog that.
Yes, I really did run with scissors.
I ran with a ruler in my mouth. Up the stairs. And no, it didn’t end well.
I ran into a tree.
I was 6 and my brother was chasing me around the backyard with a fishing net. I hit the tree so hard that I was out cold and woke up sitting on the couch with an ice pack on my head. Worst black eye ever!
Is it weird that I kind of like black eyes? I tried to get my wedding make-up lady to give me one (LONG STORY) but everyone said that was tacky.
That’s so my line for my son — or rather “you should see the other guy.” Which I then want to follow up with some further snark about the nerve of some 40+ year old man messing with my 2 year old son and how that man learned his lesson. I’m almost bummed I haven’t been able to use these lines yet. Sick, sick, sick.
Oh, and I’m klutzy, too. I know how to fall up stairs and trip over imaginary things and run into walls with the best of them. But oddly enough I’m rather graceful on ice.
It’s almost funny how we use humor to cope with those things about our children WHO HAVE HAD MAJOR BRAIN SURGERY that just aren’t even SLIGHTLY funny, eh?
The husband introduces me as “the woman who cannot walk across the kitchen without a side trip to ER”.
I sprained my knee standing up from a chair.
I broke my leg while walking the dog.
The worst Charly horse in my life when, in a heated moment of passion, flung my nekkid ass backwards onto the bed, landing on The Husband’s bi-focals, breaking them while ramming the frames so hard into a butt-cheek that I think it’s still cramped several years after the fact. The bruise entirely covered the butt-cheek.
I love all the Walking Wounded here. It’s nice to belong somewhere.
Welcome to my home. Pull up a chair. All the first aid stuff is in the bathroom cabinet down here and anything more serious, well, we’ll go to the ER together. I’m certain we can get a 2 for 1 deal.
Are we related? I once smashed my face off of a house while sled-riding when I was in the second grade.
I fell out of the top bunk while camping and cut my chin – requiring a trip to the ER (but no stitches). I never even woke up.
I fell through a windshield while walking over the top of a car (a story that my mother just heard the “real” version of two years ago – nearly 20 years after it happened).
I broke my toe while walking through a doorway (in my defense I am a chickenshit and we were watching a scary movie. I was trying to hurry out of the dark bathroom. Oh, never mind. It sounds even more pathetic when I type it).
I nearly broke my nose when I dropped the lid to the washing machine on it.
{SIGH} This is only part of the stupid shit that happens to me on a regular basis.
Holy CRAP woman. You are me. Just…not me.
When I was probably 12 or 13 years old, I had this weird almost-hernia thing (I can’t rememberexactly what it was or how in the world it happened) that made me look like I was 5 months pregnant. So yeah, just imagine all of the looks I got.
Oh you poor thing. The stares people give you! It’s AWFUL, isn’t it?
at 6 months pregnant, i fell down the stairs. which kid? ALL OF THEM.
also, when i saw amelia’s scar, i had a flash of intense fear and wanting to barf. i am so sorry you (and amelia, of course) had to go through that scary stuff.
my firstborn got his forehead stuck on my pelvic bones during delivery. for 3 hours. talk about facial swelling.
It was a fucking nightmare. Seriously.
I chipped my front tooth, putting groceries away. No one believed that story, for some reason.
Oh, I believe it. You should have added some part about “food pantry” or something. That adds credibility.
I was a Klutz too …and still am. When I was about 9, I was showing my wonderful dad that I could do a round off back hand spring like Olga Korbett…whoops! I broke all four fingers on my left hand. Had to wear what looked like a boxing glove for 8 weeks all summer long.
That- would explain my sedintary nature now.
I broke my arm climbing out of my high chair which explains my fear of, uh, chairs!
Once I ripped all the muscles in my right calf merely walking out of the ocean. That leg still looks weird.
That’s crazy wicked. I bet it hurt like hell, you poor thing.
About 5 or 6 years ago, I did the classic leave-a-rake-laying-in-the-grass-and-then-step-on-it-just-right-so-it-hits-you-directly-between-the-eyes thing that you normally only find in slapstick.
Also, I fell off a jungle gym when I was 7 and had to get stitches in my mouth because my giant front teeth bit through a nice flap of skin. I would just like to thank my sister and the neighbor kids for helping me down off of that thing when I got stuck hanging in the middle of it. Oh, and I’d like to thank my 2 older sisters, who were supposed to be watching me.
Also, I had to get stitches in my left middle finger on Christmas Eve when I was 13, because my sister fell down the stairs. (There was shelving near the bottom of the stairs, she knocked a bottle of vodka (of all things) off the shelf, I had to help clean up the mess, I cut myself on the glass, and I went to the ER reeking of vodka. That led to some fun questions, let me tell you)
I have also walked into light poles and parking meters, and my husband despairs about the state of the corners of our walls because I’m always hitting them. Graceful…that’s me.
You and I should totally invest in those guards they make for babies, you know, the foam guards to put on the edges of tables and stuff? I am ALWAYS pinging myself on the edges of the walls. Which, I SWEAR, jump out and get me.
I was once making Jello egg molds and decided a serated knife was the best tool to crack them open once the Jello had hardened. The knife slipped and I cut my finger. Then the cut got infected. So I had to go to urgent care (it was a weekend) and explain that I’d cut myself… making Jello. Yeah. Brilliant. I also have a scar on my leg from crossing one leg over the other and the buckle on my sandle cut the other leg. Apparently, I don’t heal well, because it’s been a good 15 years and you can still see it.
Holy crap, that story is AWESOME. And you could totally flip that into a really wicked story…
“This one time,” nonchalantly “I was making jello, and it totally CUT me.” People will be too stunned to question you. Either that, or if you’re me, they’ll laugh at you.
i usually have some heinous bruise that I can’t even remember how I got. People will ask “what happened?” and I’ll shrug and say “I don’t know” Apparently I can’t remember because I’m constantly bumping into things… no one time particularly stands out.
occasionally I’ll tell them that my husband beats me in my sleep.
I know they have to do it, but every time I’m in the hospital and I’m asked if my husband hurts me, I can’t help but laugh. Dave’s all of 5 foot 8 and weighs 150 pounds. You see Glee? He’s built like the Glee teacher and is the most gentle person you could know.
So the idea of Dave raising a hand to a fly, it’s, well, laughable.
I LOVE Glee!!
“I will go to a rescue shelter, find you a kitten and you will learn to love the kitten. Then, on the darkest of nights, I will steal into your house and punch you in the face.”
I am having Glee withdrawal this week.
Between the lack of Glee and the lack of House, life is hardly worth living this week.
I broke my toe while walking on the beach. Struck it against a piece of hidden driftwood, wasn’t until I sat down about an hour later and noticed that my little toe was facing away from the rest of my toes in a right angle that I realized it was broken.
My solution? Rinse it off in the ocean. The fucking SALT WATER ocean. It did not go well.
Oh, I bet you screamed like a little girl. And I wouldn’t blame you.
Damn. Those bar fights are rough.
I think I was like a teenager before I could ride a bike on two wheels.
(If you held a gun to my head, I don’t know if I could ride a bike well)
I swear to god, that’s what we told Ethan to tell kids who ask about his ear: That someone bit it off in a playground brawl, but they should see the OTHER kid. We even thought about having him take a Zip-Loc baggie full of cocktail weenies to school so he could whip it out, tell kids they were the fingers of his enemies and just start snacking on them mindlessly. Decided against that one. We just want him to not have to explain his ear 50 billion times, not start his own cult.
Do kids give him shit for his ear? I’m asking you honestly.
I wonder about that.
Mimi’s scar isn’t quite going to be covered by her hair because it starts at the crown of her head and goes on down. Stupid neural tube defects.
Yeah, a few kids have. Mostly they just ask questions but a few of the … um, … less graceful? kids have actually made fun of him. Honestly, he deals pretty well with the assholes. It’s the kids who he wants to like him whose attention he seems most put-off by. Needless to say, he’s really looking forward to not having it be an issue anymore.
Have they said for sure that Mimi’s scar will never be covered? I know they can do skin grafts using scalp hair that will produce real hair.
The problem with her scar is that it falls on her crown which is ALSO right where her cowlick is so it doesn’t fall right. Plus, she’s going to have black hair like I do which is going to make the scar pop out. Hopefully, the weight of the hair will pull it down some and it won’t be super noticeable.
Or she’ll just have to get really comfortable with pony-tails.
*sighs*
I HATE this part of parenthood. I HATE it so much. GAH.
*punches something*
*kicks wall*
I am the complete ying to your yang. Meaning: I am freakishly cautious. I have never broken, spranged, or twisted anything nor have I ever been stung by any wasps, bees, or other deadly biting insects.
Perhaps my lack of hospital visits is what lead to my immense fear over giving birth the first time. Me and pain are luke warm acquaintances.
I will happily trade you any time, Ames.
In college I had one of those toe crushing injuries where the toe nail falls off.
People: What did you drop on your toe?
Me: A can of biscuits
People: What do you mean?
Me: Pillsbury
People: Were they still in the refridgerator?
Me: No, but they were Grands and those bitches are huge and buttery.
I also have a scar on my head from where my friend drove a gold cart into a tree and I was in the back where the clubs go (don’t ask).
I have scars on my hand from where my then boyfriend drove the same golfcart into a barbed wire fence (Why, god, why did my parents let us keep that golf cart?)
I feel on my honeymoon and had to be in a wheelchair. I was not drunk and it was a flat surface but I had rubber flip flops on wet floor to which I know better because….
I was coming out of Target with my friend. It was wet and I had on flip flops. I slipped and I went feet first onto ass in front of a bunch of people. About 3 hours later the same friend and I were going into Best Buy (this is in Miami, one of the largest cities in the world) and a guy looks at me and cracks up laughing and says, “Sorry, I saw you fall before.”
Jen I swear that you complete me.
I’d just had a baby by c-section, followed by just having my appendix out 11 days later and it was maybe a week after that. The light in my closet went out, in the ancient light fixture in the ceiling. So I hauled my multiply stitched together torso up several stairs of step ladder, caused myself great pain by reaching up, undoing the fixture screws and replacing the bulb. Because I was in pain I guess I failed to reattach the huge, heavy, glass dome back properly. about 4 hours later I was in the closet, looked up and the huge heavy glass dome fell and smashed into my nose.
That’s 3 trips to the hospital in under 2 weeks. Unlike the first two this one did not end with surgery or stitches, just an ice pack & me walking around all bent over from the sore abs, with 2 black eyes and swollen nose, and a baby in a Bjorn. DH refused to be seen in public with me for over a week for fear people would accuse him of wife beating.
Holy shit. You take the cake, Stacey. You take the cake.
From one klutz to another I say you have to come up with lots of good stories and then write them down so you can come back to them when you need them. This works well so you do not have to say “I broke my fingers when I fell on my dog’s retractable leash” but can use “I totally punched Glen Beck in the nose”. See it works.
You are so brilliant that it’s nearly painful. I happened to get THIS scar rescuing a cuddly kitty for a homeless kid from a burning tree! OBVIOUSLY!
My son has lots of things going on with him. His leg broke when he was only 6 months old. He had surgery when he was 13 months old. During the surgery they took bone from his hip to put in his tibia and fibula. So that’s three fairly long scars.
Rewind to when he was only three months old. He had a tumor growing under his skin (wish I would have told the surgeon to just leave it alone, it was NOT cancerous) that started at the base of his neck, curved up behind his ear, and about an inch above his ear on the back of his head. That’s a wicked long scar.
Now he has a dark brownish/redish ‘birth mark’ where **I think** the tumor is growing back. This ‘birth mark’ is all on the left side of his neck in front and on the back of his head from his neck up to the top but mostly only on the left side.
I really hate rude comments and stares. I really hope I can come up with a story that he’d be excited to tell his friends in school that will make him seem super hero cool.
That’s why I think Joey should win the Gap Casting Call. Cause of all he’s been through, he’s still a happy, cute boy.
http://family.go.com/gapcastingcall/entries/kevinrebecca/
Oh, My Aunt Becky, we are related….
When I was about 7, I broke my two middle fingers on my right hand by trying to taste the frosting my Mom was making with the stand mixer…got both fingers stuck between the beaters, broke the mixer, trip to the ER.
I fell walking my dog a couple of years ago, he was just a puppy, and his leash slipped out of my hand, I ran for him and tried to stomp on his leash so he wouldn’t run out into the street. Fell on the dog, punched myself in the boob, sprained my ankle and knee. I couldn’t even begin to face the doctor’s office, so I self medicated. That bruise on my boob was there for a month, and was the exact size as my fist, since I like punching myself.
Fell UP the stairs, and broke my first medatarsal in my foot, trying to answer the phone. People call back, or it’s a telemarketer…it was a telemarketer. Asshole.
I was out one night with my friends, got pretty liquored, and when we were crossing the street to go back to our cars, I fell on the curb, it was snowy and I was in heels, but still…, knee and wrist both ended up with cysts on them, both had to be surgically removed.
I had to have bunion surgery last year, twice, the first time my girl was only 19 months, and while I was on leave from work she stayed home with me. Two days after surgery, wearing das boot, I tried to hop the baby gate, and pulled a muscle in my armpit so bad that the percocets didn’t even make feel better.
There’s more, these are the main ones…
I swear, you and I should move into a place where the walls are padded and there are no sharp corners or stairs…WAIT A MINUTE!
I once put my fist through a plate glass window while trying to tell my dog to be quiet….and I have this wicked scar that looks like I tried to off myself.
It’s really cool when I meet someone new…
I need no more proof. Your dumb ass and my dumb ass are related. Seriously.
I think we knew I was doomed to a life of really stupid injuries, when, at 12 years old I sprained my ankle getting out of bed. To make it even better, it was my cousin’s race car water bed.
I have torn ligaments in both hips. One by sitting down, and the other two weeks later by standing up.
I don’t break my toes while making sandwiches, I wait until I’m putting on my pajamas. And we can’t forget my latest A slight concussion I sustained while cooking dinner.
I know, I know. I am awesome.
I am dying for the concussion story, Sara. This is blog material.
I broke my elbow in the same spot 3 times in 16 months. It was in the kindergarten, first and second grade. I didn’t get to swim in a pool for a few summers. Hell I would have just been glad to take a shower without a bag on my arm. It was set wrong too. Now it makes for a great Halloween trick being i can bend it out in the opposite direction it should go. There is not a doctor within a 600 mile radius that will touch it to unpinch the nerve in it.
I used to play tennis in high school and when the courts were being redone my coach had us out there practiceing anyway. Well of course the big ol’ fence just had to come crashing down on top of me! (*side note- I was also the skinniest girl on the team, I graduated high school weighing a whopping 75lbs.) So the fence took out the skinny girl with no meat on her to soften the blow and it crushed my knee. Also with tennis I managed to break a few fingers. Catching tennis balls as they are hurling at lighting speed towards you isn’t the greatest idea. Broke 3 at once one time.
Between all of us in my family we played the “who will end up in the ER next” game.
Is it bad to wrap your kids in bubble wrap? All the time???
I’m pretty sure that wrapping our children in bubble wrap should be mandatory.
Ok, not so weird, but still a funny story. I broke my foot and wound up in duh boot too. I tripped on a fucking lego. My ex-boyfriend NEVER cleaned up after his kid.
I scored a handicapped thingy for my car though, bonus. It didnt expire for SIX MONTHS, well after my foot was healed. And I am the sinner of all sinners, because you KNOW I used it for ALL SIX MONTHS! Christmas shopping was not so sucky that year.
I considered getting one of those for my car because, MAN, was it a pain it the ASS (or foot!)(GET IT???)(HA) to get around.
Here in the tri-state you can get one when you are pregnant for like a year and a half so that you don’t have to drag the baby through busy parking lots. And most of the grocery stores (and Kohls) have mommy parking too.
I don’t have any good ijury stories, but I wanted to share that when I was in a walking cast I got to pass right through airport security without removing it. I thought it might benefit you or your readers to know that in case you need to smuggle something. like that sandwich
The idea of smuggling that sandwich really cracks me up. Like getting detained and having them interrogate me over a peanut butter sandwich is a delicious mental picture.
“Ma’am, is that REALLY a sandwich?”
I have a scar I see every time I look at the back of my right hand. It if from when I gouged myself with my own thumbnail while playing basketball. I also fractured the bones in my foot when I was trying to get out of someone’s way while playing volleyball and I fell over. I don’t play organized sports anymore.
Oh, and while I was on painkillers for the foot, which I washed down with white wine because EVERYONE knows they work better that way, I got pregnant. She seems pretty smart, though.
I was in a car accident when I was 7 months pregnant with my 2nd child and my first was only 13 mos. I broke both wrists. I was quite the sight, and it was not fun! I ended up having surgery where they put pins in both wrists and a plate in my arm. Try fixing a bottle with casts on BOTH arms. Better yet, try wiping your own ass.
Love your site 🙂 Not sure how I stumbled across it, but you are freakin’ hilarious and so fun to read!
stitches in my forehead at age 4, broken toe at age 16, Countless well jammed purple figures from HS volleyball (most often the middle finger which looked HOT in a nice little finger brace), wrecked an ankle also in hs volleyball running across the floor (still dont know how I rolled my ankle over but it still gives out on my occassionally when i jog up the stairs). Fell down (on my bum) during both pregnancies, managed to fall on my stomach the winter I was preggo with my daughter (6 months preggo to be exact–I think my husband still thinks that is how my daughter got her hemangioma birthmark–but I tell him how dumb that is) smashed my fingers hard enough to lose a couple nails (one the day of my college graduation thank you very much)…..
as for feeling like a freak show out in public, I have been amazed at the reactions we get due to my daughters hemangioma, in the early months I was looked at as if I abused her, now I have been asked twice (its in the process of fading on its own—which is a slow process and makes the area look a little funny I will give you that) if she was somehow burned. I actually like the people who ask, because then at least I feel like I am educating folks about a relatively common issue.
I’m waaay too cool for that…I mean, all my injuries were…shit. FINE.
I broke my arm because I was afraid of a bee and decided to just *let go* of the monkey bars…because THAT was the right choice…oh, and I fell down the fireman’s pole on the playground in 1st grade and got the wind knocked out of me + began squirting lots of blood because I slipped, pretending to be chased by a boy (which is considered totally awesome in 1st grade…the chasing, I mean)
I’m a klutz from way back. I broke 2 toes when I dropped a cookie sheet on my foot. Then there was the time that I spilled hot olive oil between my toes. (Further proof that I have no business in the kitchen. Unless someone else is doing the cooking.)
While I am not the most graceful soul out there, (by a long shot), I will say that I was much, MUCH clumsier when I was pregnant. I fell down over and over. And it’s not like I can blame the difference in my center of gravity for it, because it would start just as soon as I fertilized that egg.
Now that I’m just plain fat, (and more sufficiently padded), it just doesn’t happen that often at all. What’s up with that? 😉
Dearest Aunt Becks; I was just laughing uproariously with my stepdaughter today and remembering the time I was walking, caught my toe in my opposing pant leg, and went down, hard – all while heavily pregnant. The good thing is I managed to get enough hand and elbow to the floor first, so the then-baby (now 3 year old hellion) was fiiiine, but I just looked seriously…..motility-challenged. It’s still funny when I think about it. And there are no excuses for me, I walk into walls that have been places longer than I have, and once almost punctured my brain when my hand slipped during an inhaled allergy treatment. Spaz to spaz, I feel your pain.
I broke my collar bone falling off a swing…a swing which was only maybe 18 inches off the ground and was not in motion at the time. (It did get me out of badmitton in PE, and corrected my super bad posture by wearing that brace for 6 weeks, so I’m cool with it.)
6th grade was a bad time for me, injury- and disease-wise. I had Lyme disease, which may or may not have contributed to the joint issues and light sensitivity I have to this day. That was fun, kind of in the way that a root canal, or getting hit in the knee with a hammer, is fun.
I also slammed my thumb closing a classroom window, and it didn’t hurt all that much so I didn’t think too much of it until I went back to my desk and found that my thumb was all swollen and dark purple and gross. I don’t remember if that one involved a trip to the hospital.
And then I slipped on the hardwood hallway in my family’s house in stocking feet and slid knee-first into an old-fashioned steam radiator, necessitating a lovely thigh-to-ankle brace and crutches for several weeks. (But the brace was sea-foam green, and matched one of my favorite outfits at the time! That was, however, totally coincidental.)
And finally, I stepped on a can lid. I’d opened a can of lemonade concentrate and accidentally dropped the lid, and it was rolling around on the floor, and what did I decide would be the best thing to do to stop it? Step on it, with my bare foot. Brilliant. I cut the hell out of my foot, between my first two toes, and had to go get stitches, and to this day I have some mild nerve damage on the inside of that big toe. (My dad, a nurse, was very proud of me that I didn’t scream and freak out; after the initial yell, I was able to call to him and my mom in the other room, “I just cut myself very badly!” in a very calm and collected voice, while standing on the other foot and holding onto the bleeding one for dear life.) It wasn’t terribly traumatic, just stupid. Even at the time, when my father was assessing the damage, I was wondering why, why, WHY did I do that? (Reflex. It’s not always helpful.) We decided that sixth grade was just cursed for me. Fortunately, I survived.
Nowadays, I generally just bonk into things, swear, forget about it, and then wonder where the heck that big purple bruise came from. And since part of my job involves hauling 40-50 lb boxes around, that happens fairly often.
See not only is your post awesome – but so are all the comments. I’m not here to judge (although I’ve only broken bones while in an actual fight with my brother and while on a rugby field).
But I am here to read and if it gives me a good laugh
(the rope on the ground, falling of the couch, tripping on a lego) it means its good for the soul right? I’m not really one of those who stop by, read, and gawk, am I?
I should remember that my 18 month old broke his leg from tripping over a toy drum. I wouldn’t want anyone to laugh at him – even if his father and grandma didn’t think anything was wrong with my baby.
I tore my trapezius muscle almost 2 years ago falling down stairs. Barefoot. Not holding anything. Walking.
But the muscle relaxers were LOVELY!
This feels like a family reunion! I am such a terrible klutz that I’ll just share one story. I slipped on a wet floor, trying to get to the phone, and sprained my butt! When I told a co-worker, he asked if I was getting therapy for it. Sigh.
my nose was once broken by a snail. and by a toilet seat. Second time, i had consumed a little too much vodka and spewing when the wooden seat fell and cracked me across the bridge of my nose. It was leaving drinks from an old job. I started new job with two black eyes. and a broken nose. Great impression that made. Fisrt time I was at this black-tie do with my new man and his ex-wife was there.. so I had glammed up and made a real effort. It was in a big old glass barn with vines and creepers… I was standing round making chit-chat and an effing snail detached itself from the ceiling, fell from a great height and landed precisely on the bridge of my nose. Knocked me out. Not the impression I wanted to make in frot of the ex-wife either.
I tore a ligament in my knee jumping on the bed, shortly before my 21st birthday.
Several re-injuries had me spending plenty of time in a knee immobilizer and on crutches, which drew plenty of stares.
ONE TIME? IN THE KID’S SECTION OF BORDERS?
(sorry, I’m still really mad)
A little boy POINT AT ME and said “you can’t waaa-aaaalk.”
And his mother did NOTHING!
I have a brace that I am supposed to mostly wear always these days, but it makes my gait even more awkward than it already is, so I don’t.
Because I don’t like to be stared at.
Damn, world, you’re a bunch of assholes.
TJ, once its obvious a rude child isn’t going to be educated by it parental unit, the correct response is “and you have no maaaaaners” 😛
Michelle, can I please borrow your balls? Because damn. That’s amazing. I really want to say that to the little jerks in the supermarket whose parents let them ride in the carts shaped like cars… They “drive” through the aisles screaming “BEEPBEEPGETOUTOFMYWAY!!!
Assholes.
Seriously I’ll hook you up if you want to sue the mayo out of that sammie. BTW if you ever fuck a sammie you are dead to me. A girl has to have standards.
We had bunk beds as kids, and my younger sister and I would often “fly” off the top bunk to the floor below. I don’t know how our parents didn’t know what we were doing, since our bedrooms were upstairs, but whatev. One day, when my mom was out of town and left our dad in charge, we were “flying” when I couldn’t stop my forward motion and flew right into a wood and metal old school desk. My pinkie hurt really bad, but I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I didn’t say anything to Dad. We went swimming, had dinner, and at bedtime when I showed it to him, it was black and blue and wouldn’t move. It was broken, and Mom was PISSED when she found out that I’d broken my finger under Dad’s care. How dare he let me do that!
Another time, a babysitter was watching us (in reality, she was napping in the recliner) and I got hungry so decided to have a tuna fish sandwich. I had opened the can with the electric can opener, and was draining the water when my hands slipped and I (thought) I pinched my OTHER pinkie that hadn’t been broken between the can and the sink. I dropped the can and grabbed my poor little finger and went and sat on the stairs doing that “I can’t breathe because it hurts so bad” thing you do. That was when I realized there was blood dripping down my arm. Yeah. I had almost completely sliced off the tip of my pinkie, and the babysitter was still asleep. Mom was pissed that time, too. But hey, SHE was the one who let her 7-year-old open cans on a regular basis.
Both happened when I was a kid, so I’m not sure if I’m less of a klutz now or if I just learned to be more careful when falling and opening cans…
I can relate…. I broke my right pointer finger raking leaves. Yes, seriously. I also caught a line drive softball, hit by a 6 foot man, with my head while pitching at co-ed softball practice. It earned me a concussion and the nickname, “metalhead”. Good times.
I have tow lovely flower shaped dents on the roof of my mouth, way in the back right where I landed on the green piece of roof from the Lincoln Logs set, that I was running with while screaming and laughing as I chased my big brother. Needless to say, the laughing stopped when I hit the ground with said piece implanted in my throat.
That whole ‘don’t run with scissors’ saying doesn’t have shit on running with lincoln logs.
A few weekends ago I was in Vegas with the girls and not sober. At all. I woke up Sunday morning with two huge bruises the size of softballs in matching places on the back of my arms. Wish I knew how they got there, but since I can’t piece together much of my night – it will forever be a mystery.
When asked about it at work monday I said I play racketball.
Holy shit this was funny.
I have a curve in my spine, so random acts will totally tweak a nerve and lay me up for a few days.
This week’s culprit? I was putting down stepping stones in my back yard. Yes, like the same thing my 82-year-old neighbor manages to do without injury. I did it, and spent the last few days with a pinched nerve and my leg randomly giving out beneath me.
I know you must be insanely jealous. The perpetually hunched-over position I’m sporting is incredibly hot.
I have actually been fortunate that I have not seriously injured myself in a long time, however C wrenched the tendons in her elbow 6 months ago trying not to fall down the damn tower stairs at the prison. She is having surgery sometime next week, and even now people think she is making it up! Grrr!!!
For the first two weeks of school my son did half days. They like to ease the new victims (shoulda said pupils eh?) in gradually. So one day I decide to take him to the skatepark after school to learn to ride his skateboard. After messing around running up and down the ramps (the children) and making eyes and flipping hair at the lone skater there (mummy, who by the way is in her early twenties so making eyes at a cute skateboarder is ok right…?) we get down to buisness learning to skate… Now the cute skateboarder had left and I felt confident in my abilities as “cool mum” to demonstrate proper skating practice. I get on…. and fall on my arse, on concrete, hard. I put my hands down to break my fall and hear a nasty crunch in my left arm….. One GP, two student Drs, and one visit to A+E later and- tada! I’d fractured the head of my radius (read- fucked up my elbow so bad that without it even being landed on I’d gained an elbow that was the size of a tennisball for the best part of three weeks that I could barely move, and still can’t straighten the whole way). On the plus side however whenever a friend asked me what had happened telling them I’d broken it skateboarding never failed to brighten their day ^_^
My fave falling UP the stairs story was when I was four. I had snuck outta bed to go see what my parents were doing, because bedtime was for suckers. So there I am, in my long nightgown, peaking out the back door at them. They turn, and I think I’m SO busted, so I run up the stairs as quick as I can. Of course, I trip over the hem of the gown, bust my chin wide open, and the whole house is awoken for a trip to the ER. This is the early 80s when the whole child abuse thing was pretty big news, and the docs kept asking my mother aobut us, and whether she felt safe. You see, I’m a clumsy girl, as was my sister, so we both had bruised up shins, and she was about 8 months preggers with her 3rd baby. Yeah.. And her story that I fell UP the stairs? They had trouble believing it.
This year, I had my first broken bone! I was walking. My toe caught in my too long pj pants, and.. pop! *sigh* way too easy, I’m amazed I hadn’t done it before.
I broke my wrist when I was five years old. I was pretending to be a Solid Gold Dancer. And I tripped over my Nan’s dog.
I found out after the fact that the Solid Gold Dancers were sluts. And who trips over a DOG. Who is large and clearly in the way?
Also. I think that Little Toe Removal should be an elective procedure. Because I have broken both of mine more times than you can count. They are pointless and a nuisance.
I once walked into a storm door when I was drunk, because I thought the door was open. Popped it right off the track. The guy who owned the house was even drunker and it took him nearly an hour to figure out how to get it back on. Sooooo embarrassing.
Perhaps you are my klutzy twin separated at birth. I tripped on the belt of my bathrobe and fell down the stairs, slipped on a wet towel in the bathroom and cracked my cheek bone on the vanity, dislocated my finger when I stepped of the curb wrong while holding my three year old, cracked my elbow after I fell flat on my back cause I went flying on the wet concrete porch while holding my one year old…………….etc, etc. To top it all off I am allergic to band aids and adhesive so every time I have to have a wound wrapped I look like a freaking mummy!!
Some people, (that don’t know my husband well) think that he beats me. Of course when I try to explain I just sound lame like I am just trying to cover it up. People have actually offered to help me escape. Poor hubby!
Hmmmmm… where to start. Ok, when I was like 7 or 8 I thought I was cool enough to ride my friend’s brother’s bike. Yeah, um, note to self – learn how to use hand brakes first. So I, uh, sorta kinda rode down a hill and into the side of the trailer that was at the bottom of the hill when I couldn’t figure out how to stop. I’m pretty sure the crossing guard who lived next door was laughing his ass off as I frantically pedaled backwards, to no avail. Hmmm. Many years and bruises later, I ended up with a black eye during my first softball game. I think I was 17. Note to self – learn how to field a ground ball first. There have been countless other dumb injuries. I have a scar on my shin from walking into a guinea pig cage. That was pretty. I also have a knack for falling up the stairs. I never fall down them, except the one time I did. And I was like 8 months pregnant, on the phone with my husband. He freaked and raced home to make sure I was alright. Oh, one of the stupider ones was when I went out to play tennis with some of my students (I used to play in high school and was pretty good). I was wearing my orthopedic walking sneakers (’cause my stupid flat feet hurt, not cause I’m that old) and figured a game would be good exercise. Yeah. K. I dove for a ball and somehow my sneaker stayed planted on the cement, but my foot… it kept moving. So my big toe got smooshed bigtime and I thought it was broken, given it was all purple and I couldn’t move it. Mind you, I finished the game and said I was fine. Didn’t want the kids to think I was a complete idiot. Riiiiiigght. Well, you get the idea. We are all related in some weird way. Does anyone else have the ability to be completely graceful except when doing everyday normal stuff??? Me, I can dance. On stage, with music, totally graceful. It’s the damn walking I have a hard time with!
I’ve been relatively injury free in my life.
In 9th grade a boy slammed a locker on my middle finger and it turned purple and the nail got loose and eventually I actually pulled it out. That was pretty gnarly. I also broke my jaw on an air bag and I won’t elaborate on how that one happened.
I did break my best friend’s foot while wrestling several years ago. Very very drunk wrestling. I think you and she would have a lot in common. Except she’s not that bright. But accident prone, she is.
Oh I forgot to say that Mimi’s scar broke my little, generally unfeeling, heart.
I’ll speak on behalf of Nel, who stuck her hand in a blender to get something out, and then accidentally turned it on, and then had to get a million bajillion stiches. Actually… I was ridiculously injured in this process, as I freaked the eff out and ran to tell my parents, but before I got there, I ran into the wall and hit my head… head-on.
Tobogganing is my nemesis. I have gone exactly twice in my life. The first time i was six and I was run over by an occupied toboggan coming down the hill while dragging mine back UP the hill. Broke my collar bone.
The second time I went tobogganing I was ten. I fell off the toboggan and dislocated my shoulder. I have not gone tobogganing since. Most dangerous winter sport ever.
Of course, this happened before my genetic condition became apparent, so the dislocated shoulder was still an unusual thing for me. By two years later I was dislocating my shoulders by sitting up in the morning. And at this point I can dislocate my neck sneezing, put a toe out walking, dislocate my fingers typing…. And Guitar Hero is a full-contact sport for me, often resulting in both hands being bandaged up for days.
My worst ever injury, though, and my most awesome scar, was the result of a surgery that was meant to be keeping my right shoulder from dislocating quite so often. It was my eighth surgery so there was significant scar tissue…meaning my doc couldn’t visualize the veins. He ended up severing the main artery that brings blood from the heart into the arm. In seconds, a third of my blood volume had spilled onto the floor. The end of the vein had retracted into my body when it was severed, so my ortho stood there with his finger plugging the end of the hole for 7 1/2 minutes while a vascular surgeon was hurriedly scrubbed in. Good times.
I had gotten used to the vertical scars on my shoulders because of all the surgeries. But now I have a lovely horizontal scar on the right where the vascular surgeon had to go fishing in my chest for the end of that artery to sew it back together. It joins my usual vertical scar and looks like a fallen-over T. Lovely.
Oh. And the kicker? The surgery ended up not working and my right shoulder dislocates as easily as ever. Plus, I have far less function in the arm than I did and can’t lift it very high under its own power. My left shoulder was fused when I was fourteen, so it has very limited movement. Which means that if I want cereal out of the cupboard I have to push my right arm up with my left arm in order to reach. It gets me some odd looks at the grocery store, let me tell you.
The one I have the most fun with? My neck is really loose, so I wear a brace in the car. If we stop suddenly i have no control over my head, it slides forward on my neck, presses the spinal cord and I pass out. I risk paralyzing myself so the brace is kind of a necessity. People ask me at times why I am strapping on a neck brace when I get in a car. My answer? “So my head doesn’t fall off.” And then I leave. *grins*
Well, it’s TRUE.
Becky! Wow. THAT SCAR. Your daughter has the meanest, toughest scar I have ever seen in my life. And I’ve seen some scars, as I am a scar connoissour.
But mate …. I am so so sorry you went through that. The pic scared me, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you. Shit man. Thank goodness you are all ok.
And I don’t care what you looked like at birth … that was mean thing of your mum to say.
XOX
Throughout college I managed outdoor swimming pools. One morning I was running the vacuum (the big pole vacuum), I miscalculated and step straight into the pool – with one leg. The other leg stayed on the deck. My ass cheek stopped me from falling. My left butt cheek was the color of an eggplant for WEEKS. I couldn’t sit right and I couldn’t stand right, and the only saving grace of the whole incident was not hurting myself enough to have to file a worker’s comp. claim.
Speaking of creative stories . . . on night when I was working on the ambulance I brought a patient into the ER. I got him all settled in his bed, and when I turned to walk out of the room, caught sight of the most AMAZING looking fireman siting in bed with his leg propped up by a pile of blankets. The fliting commenced, and I asked him how he hurt is ankle. “House fire. I was carrying a kid down from the second floor when the stairs collapsed.” SWOON. I almost pulled the curtain and jumped him right there. I am all ready to start fawning over him and he says he can’t do it . . . he turned his ankle getting out of the engine. I suspect he went home alone that night.
Oh God yes. I seriously sprained (and briefly thought I’d broken) my knee when I fell from a step stool while I was trying to tie the Christmas tree to the wall.
And, when I was 6, I broke my knee while we were touring the salt mines in Germany.
I happen to be wearing the same mother effing boot right now.(Kinda, I am not really walking yet.)
LAST SEPTEMBER I thought I twisted my ankle. It was sore, but I was still being me, which as a mom means never sitting down. I let it go for a while then I finally went to a Dr. who was a total A hole. By the time I got to a real (woman) Dr. she ran an MRI and I had fraying tendons in my ankle. FROM DOING NOTHING. I don’t have any clue how I hurt or even “twisted” my ankle, or if there ever was an ankle twist involved.
So this resorted in weeks of the boot, that didn’t heal. Then surgery. 4 months off my feet, no driving work, the whole shabang, (I have a 2yo). Finally get through 3/4 of physical therapy and that little fucker exploded.
So I am now back in the boot after my second surgery, more awful recovery, same awful boot. This time they broke my heel bone a re-set it so hopefully this won’t happen again.
So, yeah. All form doing nothing.
Oy-yeii-yei!
I’ve missed reading your bloggy-blog-ness. I’m sorry. Life’s been NUTS. Totally insane.
But that boot? Made me laugh. Totally AT you, not with you.
Thanks 😉
This is too awesome! WOOHOO!
Let’s see… there was the day I shut my fingers in the garage door 3 times. In like, under an hour. Or the time I was running down the stairs and the heel of my dress shoe caught on the carpet and I somersaulted down the stairs. In a dress.
Ooooooooooo. Or what about when my younger sister convinced me to stick my finger in the light socket of a Light Brite with her assurances that no, she wouldn’t plug it in. (She did, in fact, plug it in.)
Then there was the time I was going to a church function and there wasn’t enough room in the car for everyone who showed up. The church was a block from my house so we figured we’d drive over and get another car. I sat in the bucket seat of the front with someone else and grabbed the roof of the car to hold myself in while I shut the door.
Let me give you a minute for that to sink in.
I was holding onto the doorframe so I wouldn’t fall out while I shut the door.
The door latched.
Then I realized I couldn’t move my hand. And then I couldn’t open the door.
So the trip home resulted in a trip to the ER. Didn’t break anything but I couldn’t move my hand for quite some time after that.
And then there was the time my cat pissed me off and I chased after him and swiped at him with my foot. And hit a chair. And broke my toe. And yes, I got quite a few laughs telling people I broke my toe trying to kick my cat.
Do those work for a start?
This doesn’t fit into the ‘wacky injury’ category (although I did fracture a toe jumping into an indoor pool), but I thought I could say something about my experience with childhood scars, since I know it was something my mom worried about with me, once the scary medical stuff had been mostly taken care of. (And I really hope I’m not out of line here…)
I had a few heart surgeries as a baby, culminating with open heart surgery when I was five. This left me with a bunch of smaller scars (from IV on wrists & ankles etc. and one from an early surgery that basically draws a line under my left shoulder blade), and the big zipper from a VSD repair that goes from my collarbone to the bottom of my ribcage (and by the way my scar stretched too, but it also faded a lot over time). And of all the things I’m self-conscious about, the scars aren’t one of them. Never have been. Ever since I can remember I knew that my scars were just part of who I am, and that they were proof that my life was saved by some very good doctors. On the flip side I never let them define me either, they were just there for a very good reason and I never felt like I had to cover them up. I could probably hid them by wearing turtlenecks all the time, but I don’t worry about it, and when people ask me about them I am fine with answering them honestly. But do I ever wish I had thought of something as creative as a baby bar brawl. Now THAT is a good story.
i once tripped on my own sandal and broke the top of my foot.
the wacky part? i was WEARING the sandal at the time. i’m still not quite sure how i managed that one…
Oh Aunt Becky, I think I love you! I’m so glad to hear I’m not the only one who trips over the cracks in the linoleum floor. I tore ligaments in my left ankle while stepping out of a car (pesky asphalt!) while five months pregnant. The injury was severe enough to have my leg in a half-cast which I was not allowed to remove, and instructions to not bear any weight on the ankle for three weeks. Three Weeks! On Crutches!! While Pregnant!! Yeah, it was ugly. Our poor son, while a bright and healthy boy, has inherited my Klutz genes and broke his leg stepping on a SitNSpin at 14 months. Poor kid, I suspect that a full athletic scholarship to the Uni of his choice is not in the cards for his future, instead I fear he is destined for the A-V club. *sigh*
I busted my chin open sliding back in forth in the bathtub when I was about 4. A good slide back, a good slide forward, and then the momentum led my chin WHACK right into the edge of the tub. Don’t ask me how smooth porcelain busted my chin *open*, but ta dah, it did.
Other than that, I ram my hip or elbow into a door frame or counter on a least a weekly basis. Also, the ice bin at work gave me a concussion. And I cut the shit out of my hand everyday in the safe at work. It has teeth in a location that would do nothing to someone trying to compromise the safe.. and cut the shit out of anyone just innocently reaching into the safe to y’know, do their job.
Baby gates are evil
I tripped over one when I was pregnant with #2 and pretty much broke my tailbone. Of course they couldn’t officially diagnose since it would require an xray…
i once cut my finger in school during art class and got 6 stitches on my head. a slightly panicky nurse wanted to know why i didn’t tell her i faint at the sight of blood. apparently after supervising my handwashing (with that nasty green soap) she turned to get a bandaid, and i crashed to the floor. after bouncing my head off the corner of a table first.
and then there was the time i needed 7 stitches in my arm after opening a door. the glass broke. the pisser is that my brother, who was on the other side of said door danced barefoot over the glass shards and didn’t get a scratch.
or the time i should have gotten stitches in my hand after trying to release some toy from its packaging using an extremely sharp pocket knife. i knew it was a bad idea, but did it anyway. i opted out of the ER visit because it was christmas and we were getting ready to head to the in-laws for dinner.
stitches – i haz dem
Holy crap, woman. I can’t believe you didn’t go to the ER!
I have had two black eyes in my life:
1. I was swimming laps, with goggles, stopped to empty the water out, and they were slippery, I let go, they snapped my eye.
2. When my daughter was shorter than me (she is now 6′, I am only 5’8″) we were standing in somebody’s doorway (Canadians don’t wear shoes in the house, I saw a blog about that, by a transplanted American) and we were not going in, so we were squished onto the door mat. The dog came up, and we LOVE dogs, so we both bent down to pet him. She stood up while I was still bent down, and got my eye with the back of her head. To add to the drama, I screamed, and a huge clap of simultaneous thunder/lightning happened at the same time.
I did sprain my ankle once, saving a baby – kind of. The kid darted in front of me while I was going down the stairs and in order to not step on him, I fell down the stairs.
I got a black eye when a dog scared a cat who used my head as a jumping off point to get to the kitchen. My eye narrowly missed being goo.
But black eyes are kind of cool, I think.
Weird question: does Canada have Pottery Barn?
We have Pottery Barn – I think the one here (Calgary) is kind of new. We even have a .ca website for them. I have not been there. I am the worlds worst housekeeper, and a single mother – no child support, and spend all our money on mortgage, food, soccer, volleyball, and travel. My oldest, youngest, middle, only daughter is about to graduate from high school, so tuition and text books will be added to that. So, I don’t spend money on the house much, besides the mortgage.
I had a really obtuse reason for asking that, trust me, it was for an article I’m writing for Canadian Parenting (!?!) magazine. I didn’t know if you guys had Pottery Barns up there and if what I was saying would leave you going, uh, WHAT?
I once stabbed myself in the leg getting out of our car.
My hubby and I were running late to catch a movie before the fireworks on New Years Eve. To save time, we were making sandwiches in the car, and the only knife we had for the mayo was the SERRATED pocket knife from the glove box. Being full of mayo, I left it open sitting in the handle of the car door. Completely forgot about it, and when I went to get out of the car, managed to impale my left thigh, to the hilt,with a mayo covered SERRATED knife. Missed everything important, thankfully, and even managed to make it to the fireworks in time after the ER visit. (oh, and I was hobbling around in crutches in a 2nd floor new apartment with no furniture, sleeping on the floor because we hadn’t even bought a mattress yet. Not so fun.)
Holy CRAP I think you described my worst nightmare. Add some John Mayer music in there, and yeah, I’m in hell.
I feel so at home now. It would take more than 2 hands to count the number of times I have fallen down the stairs. Then I found out it was just good practice for falling down the stairs when I was 6 months pregnant and carrying my 2 year old.
I have slammed my hand and foot in the car door (seperate occasions). I once slammed my head in the refrigerator door (don’t ask, I was sober). After Ellie was born, I was heating my lunch, spilled hot food on myself, then moved to the sink to put my hands in cold water, then realized I had stepped on a burning potato. So I was trying to rinse my burnt foot, in the sink without dislodging the vagina stitches.
That is just the tip of the iceberg, I should write a post about this. My husband has some good ones. He’s been hit twice by cars.
This totally merits a post. And holy shit. HIT BY CARS? Yeah, I want a post about this.
Oh Aunt Becky, I’m feeling you on the bike thing… My mom took me bike riding one afternoon, and I managed to hit both a fence and a pedestrian (separately). That was the end of the biking career.
Till I went to the Netherlands, and we BIKED to town’s market. Cars and people were coming from THE WRONG SIDE. I seriously shamed my family that day.
I remember playing soccer with my cousins when I was little… and I distinctly remember making the decision to kick the ball with BOTH FEET. Two are better than one right? Yeah. Didn’t end well.
I genuinely feel sorry for my children. I really hope that they develop some talent they can hone besides sports.
ODDLY? Alex, my two year old? IS VERY, VERY ATHLETIC.
I DO NOT GET IT.
When I was pregnant with my first I was in line at the DMV, and I got overheated. I thought I was going to vomit so I went running towards the bathroom only to pass out and hit my face on the doorknob. I got a black eye, a concussion and a ride in an ambulance.
Also, I dropped a bottle of hot sauce on my toe and broke it. It happened 2 years ago and that toe still hurts!
Were the DMV people nice to you at the very least?
Yes but only because they thought I would sue them. The line was out the door and there was no air conditioning. Lucky for them, Im not the suing type.
Husband tripped on the cat going down the stairs one night and ended up on crutches with a sprained ankle.
Then I tripped over the same cat on a different set of stairs and ended up with a broken toe.
THEN said cat bit my arm – with every single one of her teeth, causing me to need a tetanus shot, a course of antibiotics PLUS I got a nifty fang-shaped scar on my right forearm as a souvenir.
THEN I obtained a set of matching bruises on my thighs when I stepped in front of the dog, who was trying to play with the Cat From Hell. (Actually, he was just screwing with her – he loves to make her growl.)
I should have just freakin’ let him eat the damn cat. Probably would have solved a bunch of problems.
I just laughed my ass off at the last sentence. Not that I don’t love cats, but you know, that cat sounds like it probably was from hell.
I tripped over an extension cord going into my bedroom. I did it in such a way I broke the second toe on my foot.
That sounds both painful physically and emotionally.
It truly was, nice purplish toe and everything.
I scar easily, so I probably look more badass (or clumsy) than I am. But I did break my wrist falling up the stairs and had to explain that repeatedly. I also broke my collarbone when my friend dipped me–and dropped me. And then there was the awful day I stepped on a million sea urchins and spent the rest of the day having them picked out with a safety pin and rinsed with sea water. Maybe I am as clumsy as I look!
Sea Urchins, really?? Sounds like my Man-o-War! That RULED. And by “ruled” I mean SUCKED ASS.
I love to tell the story of how I broke my finger in a freak hula-hoop accident when I was 16. Technically I had just WON a hula-hoop contest and one of the losers was kicking his leg up in the air (don’t ask me why) when he caught the tip of my finger and bent it all the way back to the back of my hand. Yowza!
I am wincing at the very THOUGHT of that.
My toes are trying to kill me. Seriously, if I didn’t need them for walking I’d just have them all amputated.
Both my pinky toes are deformed because they were crushed by a horse standing on them. Ooooohhh, that sounds like a cool and exciting injury story you, say. Oh no, it is not. Consider that the horse was standing on the toe with all 600lbs of leg on it’s metal shoe because I had picked up the horse’s foot to clean it and then set it down on my toe!!!. The worst part?? Happened multiple times. You didn’t think I set horse’s hoof down on both pinky toes at once did you? That would require some effort.
I once wore ill-fitting shoes to run a marathon (stupid idea!!) and several of my toenails turned black and blue and eventually fell off. The grew back but now they’re deformed.
Oh and I broke my big toe jumping off the couch at the age of 15 and had to wear a bunny slipper to school for 3 weeks. Freshman year, oh the memories.
Me and toes were never meant to be.
Yeah, you weren’t meant to have toes. I think we’re related. Seriously.
OH!!! My orchid?? Is HAVING A BABY. Did I tell you this??
A BABY!?!?!? OMG – which one?? And when are you going to do a blog post with orchid pictures??
It’s one of the small Phal’s that I rescued from crown rot (thank you grower that packs the pots with two plants in ALL MOSS) that I bought BECAUSE it was growing a baby. So cool!
I’ll post pictures when I show off my nifty light box! Daver’s been working diligently on it so I can give my seedlings the proper light.
***SQUEEEEE!!!!***
Also – we might actually be related. I have cousins (of various nominal assignations and removals) in your area of the country. You got any Griswold’s??? (Yeah. Like the movies. SHUT. UP.)
Shockingly no. We’re all (despite my darkness) Swedish/Scottish and Carlson/Sherrick’s/Sandall’s.
Oh! Awesome. Because some day my kid is going to wonder why she has a bald spot/scar on the back of her head (from her hemangioma surgery), and now I’ll be able to tell her that SHE was in a bar fight as a baby. Seriously, I love this.
You know what? It’s all how you spin it for them.
Well, let’s see…
It started when I was about two weeks from being born and I decided I was tired of hanging out with my head down and flipped around. And promptly got my chin caught on my mom’s rib cage. Back in 1978, there was no such thing as ultrasound, so she had an x-ray to determine this. No damage to me, but a wicked vertical scar for my mom from rib cage to pelvic bone…
When my brother was born, I was so mad I ran into the door and got a black eye.
When I was two, the family cat ran across my face and gave me a nice scar from eyelid to chin…Starting in jr. high, I totally blamed it on a bar/knife fight.
I twisted my ankle stepping off of a curb once.
I’m sure there are a ton more, these are just the ones off of the top of my head!
I also had a co-worker who sneezed hard and cracked a rib.
YOU CAN SNEEZE AND CRACK A RIB?? I am so screwed.
Okay, so I’m a day late and a dollar short, but I do have a wacky injury (also I regularly fall up stairs and have broken a toe getting into bed, I’ve also badly cut a toe walking past a stereo).
Anyway, I was at Ft. Knox, Kentucky in December for the Army’s Primary Leadership Development Course. It was 6 in the morning and physical training time. We were playing leapfrog in the dark in a field full of holes (an activity actually listed in the Army’s physical training manual at the time, the leapfrog, not the requirement of darkness and holy fields).
I jumped over someone and landed and heard such an awful crunch I was sure I had crushed their hand. Nope, only twisted my foot to such a degree that a nerve had gotten trapped between two pieces of bone on the side of my foot. I finished my course, partly on crutches, but ultimately it required surgery, and it still causes me some pain. Especially when it rains.
Oh, you poor thing. That sounds EXACTLY like what I did when I fell on the baby gate (the injury is so confusing to describe without the aid of props that I can’t do it justice) and it STILL hurts over a year later. I guess you and I both have “trick” feet where we can predict the weather, right?
When I was 6 years old, I tried to ride my bike over a baskeball and hurt my knees and hands pretty bad. That was one of the clues that I needed glasses by the 3rd grade.
I was sitting on the couch one night with my laptop on my lap and got tense from being somewhat hunched over so I shrugged and rolled my shoulders to stretch. I had barely moved my left one when it popped. I separated my shoulder by shrugging. I tore most of my tendons holding my shoulder on. The urgent care nurse informed me it was usually an injury that athletes get by falling and using their arm to break their fall. I however managed to get it surfing the web. (possibly playing webkinz but we wont mention that)
I tried telling people I did it by sliding into first but for some reason no one believed me. And to top it off I now have a weird lump above my collar bone that from what I’ve heard is permanent.
I sliced my fingers open while scrapbooking. SCRAPBOOKING. Those fucking blades are sharp. (And I am an idiot.)
Mimi’s scars will fade – they will. Now, please go slobber on her cheeks for me. Thank you!
That’s a dangerous ass hobby, duder. SERIOUSLY.
Slobbering COMPLETED.
How bout falling UP a flight of stairs and splitting my chin open. Or the time I was coming down the stairs in crocs and my croc stayed on the stair but my body didn’t and my wrist was fractured in 2 places. Or how bout when I ended up with a 4 inch gash on my left arm and I am still not sure how that happened. Really seriously, it just appeared. 😉
Oh, I wake up with bruises all over the place! Never gashes though, although now I’m going to! Totally!
Not so much embarrassing…I’m still recovering from a wrecked left shoulder from a bike crash in June. Went headfirst over the handlebars, landed on my left elbow, and my torso acted as a fulcrum to wrench my rotator cuff all to the ninth circle of hell.
Rotator cuff injuries are the WORST! You poor thing. Seriously.
I cracked my wrist falling off of a basketball.
Pretty sure we’re related at least somehow.
Well, the vicodin/alcohol-induced glue eye incident was probably the most pathetic injury I’ve ever had. I literally had cops coming into the exam room trying to get me to spill that my husband took a swing at me, and all I could say was, Sorry. I was just chasing my cat that escaped, went to grab her by the tail, while calling her a “fucking bitch,” and I ripped my eye open on the aluminum patio chair.
The look on their faces was priceless, but the glue eye was pathetic!!!
Your eye was actually really scary looking, lola.
My DD was 5. My twin boys were 11 weeks old. I broke my leg by walking across a room.
Seriously.
Holy CRAP. WE’RE twins! Seriously!
lol. We are!
Coparent told me that I should tell people I got it hang-gliding or rock climbing. Much more interesting a story. Personally I don’t think people understand how hard core walking can be!
This one time? At band camp?
But seriously, about 30 minutes before curtain of a play I was stage managing, I spun around to head for the dressing room and tripped over a corner of a theatre set. As I was falling, my back started to hurt and I realized it was going to get seriously hurt if I didn’t go limp and roll with the fall, which bizarrely enough, I managed to do and actually rolled to a sitting position. I didn’t hurt my back, but seriously hyperextended the middle finger of my left hand on re-entry. Not wanting to freak anyone out (who would call the show, said the Little Red Hen?) I flung my arms up in the arm and said, “I MEANT to do that!” while wondering if I’d broken my throbbing finger. I said nothing, finished the prep and called all the cues for the show. It was only badly sprained but had the prettiest purple bruising and had swollen to the size of a bratwurst by the time the show was over.
At a cast party for a subsequent play, I managed to slide a full bottle of beer off a low table with my shoulder bag as I walked by. In sock feet. The bottle landed squarely on my left big toe. To this day, it doesn’t work like the right one anymore. Having to tell a physiotherapist I hurt the toe by dropping a beer bottle on it made me feel VERY classy.
Bwahahahaha! I bet you felt TOTALLY classy telling the therapist that.
Trying to explain how I busted my foot–necessitating Das Boot–without props was nearly impossible. I should have said “giving head” and left it at that. It would have been better because I was very pregnant.
Nosy people.
Dear Aunt Becky,
I ruined the articulated cartiladge in my knee petting my cat.
No lie. I was petting him and rolled over, and slammed my knee (under the knee cap!) on the corner of my desk. Imagine explaining to someone “Oh I was petting my cat then I went to the hospital. BUT IT WAS HARDCORE!”
love,
Kat
I know I shouldn’t laugh, I KNOW IT, but I can just picture you telling the doctor, “IT WAS EXTREME CAT PETTING, MAN!”
Boy howdy did I ever. And, true story, he told me to tell people it was ninjas because that would seem more extreme (I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING IT WAS AWESOME!)
but yeah my knee hurts when its going to rain. its an old man knee.
My foot aches when it rains (like today!) thanks to that stupid baby gate and the stairs. I really need a better story. I’m such a lousy liar.
human barometers.
at least our injuries gained us super powers.
Exactly. How cool are we now? I have a trick foot, YO.
guuurl! you such a badass!
I once tore an abdominal muscle playing tennis. That’s not even a muscle you’re supposed to use when playing tennis.
Well, you know that old supersitition.. never walk underneath a ladder? If you don’t believe that “old wives tale”. I’m hear to tell you. Never walk underneath a ladder.
When I was about 12 or so I went to visit my next door neighbor and his dad was doing some work on the roof. He had the ladder propped up literally on their front porch so you had to walk underneath it to get in the front door. Well, BAM! sledgehammer dropped on my head. 10 stiches later and about 25 years of jokes explaining every possible stupid thing I’ve done by saying, well, you know she had a hammer dropped on her head when she was little.
On the bright side, it was only one month of stitches but it provided a lifetime of comedy for everyone around me!
Now THAT is a story worth telling! Holy crap!
I cannot wait to come back and read all these comments. I love, love, love it when shit like this happens to people besides me. I trip my way through life and I love that you all do too. My six Disneyworld bruises are almost gone.
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