I’m sporting a new look tonight … a goose egg in the back of my head. All because of a birthday party. An ice skating party. You already see where this is going, don’t you?
I had been planning to drop Maia off at the party, but common sense got the better of me since she had never been ice skating before. I stayed, at her request. She was afraid she might get hurt, and so was I. You get one guess as to which of us actually got injured.
Things started out great. I hadn’t been ice skating in 15 years but was getting into a groove, thinking about how it’s just like riding a bike. After 30 minutes, I hadn’t fallen once. But I should have known better than to get complacent, because I am a klutz. Things just happen to me. I have a scar on my leg from a spill down the stairs earlier this year. I have a scar on my wrist from an incident with a binder at work. I’m the one who tripped on a curb and landed underneath a parked car once in college, ending up on crutches with a sprained ankle (no alcohol involved, which made the incident that much harder to explain!). It’s kind of amazing, actually, that I’ve never broken any bones. I’m sure that’s just a matter of time.
So there I was, skating with Maia, minding my own business, when for no good reason my feet started to slide out from under me. My body ignored my brain’s commands to right itself, and my butt connected with the ice. But my head wanted a piece of the action too, and thunked hard. Very hard. And very, VERY loud. People came rushing over and started asking me difficult questions, like what day it was. It was a test, and I was relieved to have the right answers. It scared poor Maia to death. Someone brought me ice (wait, wasn’t it ice that caused the problem in the first place?). A knot swelled large and fast. It still hurts.
Oh, but it gets even better. There was another birthday party going on at the Ice Den this afternoon. It just happened to be for one of our neighbors. So, in addition to Maia’s first grade classmates and their parents, every single middle school aged kid that lives in my immediate neighborhood witnessed my humiliation.
Whose bright idea was it to have an ice skating party for 7-year-olds, anyway? Then again, this 34-year-old mom was the only one who got hurt. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen to me. The good news is that this is one individual who knows how to get back on the horse, so to speak, and after a brief interlude to ice my swollen noggin, monitor for signs of a concussion, and nurse my bruised pride, I did get back out there. Happily, I have no further misadventures to report.