Items of note and notorious items

Yea! My husband FINALLY came home from what felt like MONTHS away. Yes, I am very attached to him, but I'm also very attached to his laptop which he feels like he has a right to take with him where ever he goes! Not only is it good to have him back (and his computer) but his first item of business this morning was to high-tail it to Sam's Club and buy a couple of window A/C's. That's right, we've been suffering (almost silently) through YEARS (weeks) of 120 (80) degree heat with no respite! (except when we stayed with him in N.Y. for a week and a half.)

But all that pain and misery has come to an end. All is now right with the world.

Except for one thing!
{Background music changes to minor key...}
Now, before I tell you the tragedy that befell me, (actually, I befell, but I'll get to that) I want to make a few things perfectly clear. I am NOT a clutz! (My mom did call me Clumzerella for that unfortunate decade when I was constantly running my hips and elbows into sharp corners but that is in the past.)

Anyway, as I was saying...I'm not a clutz. It just so happens that the day of the "incident" had been a very long and hard one. No husband, no help, lot's of painting, parenting, unpacking, and general manual labor. So when my "sweet and adorable"/"really naughty" Sammers wouldn't go to sleep, I was exhausted and desperate. Since "Dental Dad" forbid's the distribution of sippy cups to progeny in cribs, I decided to Choose the Right, and take Sam upstairs for a drink. I was hoping the drink and distraction would calm him down and he'd go to sleep immediately afterwards.

Anyway, upstairs we went (the boys are sleeping downstairs while their room is being painted) and I got him a cup of milk. I then proceeded, with my tank of a child, to descend the hard wooden stairs. Somewhere near the bottom, I missed a step and with boy secure in my arms proceeded to tumble and then crumple into a heap on the landing. I was positive I had just broken both ankles and let out a few primal wails of anguish. (I'm proud to say I curb my swearing habit completely around spouse and children) At which time Sam wriggled out of my arms, backed away in terror, and started up his own wailing to signify that he didn't appreciate my negative attitude.

So, to make a long story short, ("TOO LATE!") I'm a gimp now without broken ankles, but with lots of bruises and the inability to think of myself as a graceful gizelle. (Let's hope that doesn't last long!)
TTFN!