Sometimes, I think that maybe there’s a hidden camera following me.
My name, Annette, means “graceful”. What a joke that is.
I could trip and fall on air. And I have…MANY times.
The other night, I was picking up the baby’s Intellitainer. The Intellitainer is a contraption that’s akin to an Exersaucer, but of course…it’s marketed by Fisher Price, has some crazy name and plays a ridiculous amount of annoying little ditties.
As I was lifting the massive beast off the carpet, I had unknowingly stepped on the bottom piece that sits on the carpet. I couldn’t figure out why the darn thing was “stuck” and wouldn’t come up. I mean, it’s not “that” heavy. Finally, my foot dislodged and the full force of that monster came flying up and hit me in the head nearly knocking me on my butt on the floor!
As I’m telling my husband about it at dinner that night, his reply (after he finished laughing at me, of course) was, “Did you hear a laugh track in the background?”
Seriously, my daily life could be something straight out of an old Dick VanDyke episode.
Once while going to vote last year, I was wearing a pair of high heeled boots. It was raining, and the voting booths were set up in the school’s tiled lunchroom. (And I swear they had just polished those floors.) All of these things are a recipe for certain disaster and embarrassment where I am involved.
As it came my turn to vote, I walked out across the floor, and my ankle twisted. It was one of those five-point, slow motion falls where you know that it’s happening but there is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING that you can do about it.
The poor old ladies who were signing people in were watching me in horror.
“Are you okay, honey?”
A nice older gentlemen was offering to help me up. But, I had already scrambled to my feet by the time he got over to me. There was no sense in trying to play this off like it never happened. So, I’m saying a little too loudly (this particular decibel in my voice is what my husband often refers to as my “teacher voice”), “No! No! I’m okay! I’m alright!” This, of course, only attracts more attention to me.
This event has scarred me so much that I don’t even remember who or what I was voting for that day. All I remember is leaving there thinking, “Well, I’ll just have to pick out some more sensible shoes the next time I go vote.”
Almost every night, when my youngest (who am I kidding?…or my oldest) wakes up, I trip over SOMETHING on my way out the door. It might be just air or the dust ruffle on the bed, but rest assured I WILL trip on it, and I WILL land square on one of my knees. While my husband giggles at me.
The other night, I was wearing one of my favorite pair of pajama pants. They are old and have a hole right at ankle level that is the perfect size for ensnaring, oh..let’s say, a big toe. I’ll spare you the details of what happened next, but I will tell you that the beautiful new hardwoods my husband installed are a killer on the shins.
I’ve never broken anything in my “adventures” (broke my arm once when I was in Kindergarten, but that involved a game of leapfrog gone wrong). We joke that God gave me rubber ankles, because there’s really no other excuse for how I’ve escaped any serious injury.
Just tonight as I was putting away something in the laundry room, I cracked my head on the baker’s rack. (Don’t ask why we have a baker’s rack in the laundry room…that’s a story for another day.)
I’ve learned to accept my clumsiness as a part of who I am.
Just another reason that I am “more Lucy than June”, I guess.
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