Clumsy

Yesterday I wrote about my lack of athletic prowess (that sounds much sexier than poor coordination don't you think?).

Today I've decided to write about my overabundance of clumsy.

Have you ever had your friends say "oops, I pulled a Lisa"?  I have, and the oops usually means it's not a positive.  It is usually accompanied by injury either to self or ego.

You see, I fall down, A LOT.  I can't explain why, but stairways are my nemesis. So are curbs, cracks, very tiny pebbles, and sometimes shoes.   You laugh, and I do too, but sometimes its treacherous.  If in public, it can be quite embarrassing, just ask my children.

 A few summers ago, I bought new pair of platform sandals, and to say I fell off my pedestal doesn't do it justice.  I was taking the boys to a Saturday afternoon matinee. They had walked ahead of me and into the lobby to play pinball while we waited. Brandon had my bank card and bought our tickets. I finished up my phone call to a friend and was casually strolling in to meet the boys when suddenly, BOOM, I was down on the sidewalk just outside of the theater lobby.  Lucky for me, a police man was driving by just as I went down. Funny little thing about police men, did you know that if you fall down in front of one, they are obligated by law to stop and provide assistance.  Oh JOY.  Lucky me (in case you can't read it,  there is sarcasm dripping from that statement of gratitude).   Mr. Policeman kindly stops and approaches me just as I am readying myself to stand back up and insists that I wait a moment.  He ask if I am o.k. and I tell him "I'm fine, really, I do this all the time, I just fell off my shoe".  As a matter of precaution he has already called the local EMT's and assists me inside the lobby where he seats me on a bench next to the pinball machines.  OH JOY!  My own personal hero, (there's that sarcasm again). At this point I can see my boys.  Wyatt has come to check on me and provide emotional support, and Brandon who can see I'm fine, is mortified at the spectacle this is becoming and after handing two tickets to Wyatt for he and I , makes his way through the red velvet rope and into the theater alone.  The EMT's are there now and taking my blood pressure, and listening to my heart, and asking a million questions about my medical history and how I'm feeling and checking my pupils, and it's crazy.  I just fell down, I do this ALL the time,  Seriously.  While the EMT's are checking me, the kindly policeman is talking to Wyatt.  He asks him if this happens a lot, "yeah, she falls down all the time",  he asks him does your mother drink, "well yeah, every body drinks", he asks him has she been drinking today, "of course", do you know what you mother drank today, "Diet coke, she drinks a lot of diet coke, she always one in her hand", does she put anything in her diet coke, "you mean like ice?", is your mother ever drunk,  "no, of course not, you can't get drunk from drinking diet coke, there's no alcohol in it".   Thank you Mr Policeman for implying to my child that I am a falling down drunk.  Are we done here, can we go to our movie now ? Thanks.  As we make our way into the theater, I glance at the seats we typically sit in together and notice Brandon isn't there, and then I spot him at the top of the theater obscured by the crowd and I realize for this moment he doesn't know us.  I get it,  it was embarrassing and humiliating enough for me, let alone my children.

Since that day, I haven't changed, I still fall down a lot, I trip over the invisible, I stumble both on and off of curbs. I stub my toes in the middle of night, and I laugh at myself every time after checking for skinned knees broken toes, and twisted ankles.  It's entertaining. My friends are always watching for the signs of an impending tumble in case they can grab my arm or my collar or my sleeve and help to prevent it.  When they themselves fall, they claim to be channeling me, they call it pulling a "Lisa". 

Thank you very much. I'm here everyday. Happy to entertain you all. :)