Anyone who knows me knows, I am not the most graceful of individuals. I’m always tripping, falling (this incident still takes the cake), stubbing my toes, running into doorways (I swear they move). I’m constantly finding bruises and scratches on my body and wondering, “Where did that come from? Oh, it must be from when I ran into the doorway that has mysteriously shifted two inches to the left.”
This morning while making breakfast for myself and the kiddos, as I bent down to put something in the trash, I hit my head right on the corner of the upper cabinet. Now – I really do try to curb my potty mouth when I’m with my girls. Try being the operative word. Because in this instance, in my pain haze, without thinking I think I yelled something like, “shit fuck damn god-dammit fuck!” And then, because I’m mature, I threw a box of waffles at the offending cabinet. Way to set an example, right? I mean, clearly the cabinet had already won…
My sweet littles ran over to see what the commotion was about. The youngest one gave me a hug while the oldest asked me to bend down so she could kiss the bump that was already rising on my forehead. My girls… One day they may cuss like sailors, but at least they’ll be compassionate.
PS – Flaxseed waffles, Dan. Lifesavers.