Facebook break!

This morning, I was trying to do a million things while getting ready to go to the gym. In the midst of misplacing my 3rd arm, I somehow managed to get both the kids dressed, and I bet you will NEVER guess what Claire dressed herself in, myself dressed and the laundry in the basket to bring downstairs. Claire gathered her laundry in a separate small basket along with Luca’s clothes, too. (Am I spoiled or what?)

Here’s my first gripe of the day:

Who in the hell decided that laundry should be in the basement or lowest level imaginable? I’m sure this is an American thing, as most things we do don’t make much sense. Over in Europe, I’m going to take a guess that they have their laundry facilities on the level of which they dump their clothes. For me, that’d be the second floor. I distinctly remember my neighbor telling me in all her 4 children-raising wisdom, “Make SURE you put your washer and dryer on the second floor. It just makes sense that way.”

Carrie is one smart woman. I’m not so much.

I’ve told Matt a million times that when we renovate our master bathroom* we will put our washer and dryer up there in a closet. I mean, it only makes sense. And if it were to leak and cause damage, that’s what home owners’ insurance is for, right? Can I get an amen?

Anywho, here I am, with my laundry baskets going down our ridiculously awesomely padded and carpeted stairs in my socks. The kids were slowly following behind me when all of a sudden I some how manage to slip on a stair and fall directly on my arse. Then, I proceed to bounce down about 4 other stairs. But by God, I held onto that laundry.

I sat there for a minute, collecting myself, when the baby started moving all over, clearly upset with me for having had a free fall. I started to hysterically laugh. Claire and Luca, who were still coming down the stairs like normal people, came up to me and were petting my hair and hugging me. Then Claire saw I was laughing and said, “Mama, your butt bounced down the stairs!” Which lead to more laughing and tears from laughing so hard. Luca looked confused, but Claire was laughing right along with me.

So being as I was OK, naturally I figured this would make a great facebook update. I mean, c’mon. I made an ass of myself, why not broadcast it all over the internet? And sure I know I’m pregnant and pregnant people aren’t supposed to fall, but this isn’t my first rodeo. With Claire I slipped on some ice and fell on my ass and with Luca I passed out at work hitting my head off the copier and landing directly on my stomach. The kids turned out fine.

Then once they were out into the real world, the bumps didn’t stop there. On New Years Day morning Matt was carrying a then 2 month old Claire downstairs where HE slipped and bounced on his ass the whole way down. Claire was fine, just startled. I was more worried about Matt as he thought he killed her. Want to see a new dad cry? I didn’t.

Luca, as we all know, fell down the basement stairs and landed on the hard concrete at 9 months of age. He’s fine.

So I fell down the stairs. On my bum. Holding laundry. I thought at least one person out there would find it comical. And boy did I ever.

Enter my longest friend of all time, Kevin:

And yes, while concern is good, humor is even better. I’m pretty sure Kevin is the only person in the world who could get away with saying such things simply because I know him all too well.

And Kelly’s comment in all caps was duly noted. What I wanted to reply was, “Well I only have 7 more weeks left. Let’s see what other shenanigans I can get myself into,” but I figured that would upset my Aunt Emily. And then the Karma gods would strike me down and I’d be on bedrest or something equally horrible.

I’m merely a klutz and/or spaz. Matt wasn’t surprised. Concerned, yes. Surprised, no. I mean, think about it, we’re talking about a girl who:

1. Stuck a penny in a electrical outlet at 3 years old which sent me 3 feet back and gave me some awesome hair. (I still have that penny by the way.)

2. Tripped going UP some stairs only to get a nasty shin bruise that hurt like hell, the DAY before prom. I was also walking with my date who looked concerned for his health.

3. Broke my foot and hip at the pathetic age of 17.

4. As previously mentioned, passed out at work thinking that it was OK to walk while greying out. I learned a valuable lesson that day. You just shouldn’t do that.

5. Put cumin on toast thinking it was cinnamon.

6. Thought that at the age of 9, it was OK for me to go visit an elderly friend three blocks away and not tell my Mom where I was. She was at the grocery store for a quick trip. Keep in mind, cellphones weren’t cool yet. Yah, Mom loved me for that one.

7. Was called sir a lot as a child.

It all makes sense!

So me and my bruised ego are sitting on the couch until further notice.

*Our “master bathroom” is the size of a handicap bathroom stall at Panera. I’m not even CLOSE to joking.

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About Cassie

Two sisters from two misters. What could be more fun?

Posted on December 21, 2010, in Cassie and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. In our town house we had the same laundry issues. I had to go up and down the stairs all day long to do laundry and I busted my ass a number of times… which is part of the reason we moved to a one story home. My clumsiness + pregnancy clumsiness + overwhelming fearful visions of a baby toppling down the stairs was too much to bear.

    I also broke my tailbone that way one time. And let me tell you, that sucks.

    Glad you and the little one are a-ok!

  2. So glad you were able to hold onto the laundry. Otherwise, you know, it might have gotten dirty before you washed them.

    On the plus side, now you have ammunition for one of the times your chilluns fall on THEIR asses. They’ll know that they should laugh about it, because Mommy did.

    Hope you’re ok, and didn’t break anything. Otherwise, you might give birth to your tailbone, along with the baby.

    • See, the problem here is that if I let the laundry spill all over, the kids would then take the clothes and throw them over their heads like they were showering themselves in fall leaves. And that just doesn’t bode well with dirty undies and such.

  3. Well, there’s also the fact that you’re making my future self look bad. See, I was planning on making The Guy do all the laundry for the duration of my pregnancy, using the excuse that I am too busy/do not have the energy as I am currently GESTATING HIS HUMAN CHILD. But now he’s gonna be all, “Cassie fell down the STAIRS in pursuit of her family’s laundry, so suck it up and get your gestating ass off the sofa. You’re only two weeks along, and the baby’s already listening to entirely too many King of the Hill episodes and Woody Allen films.”

    • Sorry about that. Yah, I don’t really change much except I don’t do kitty litter. It’s a big no-no. I try to play the gestating card, but the problem is, things don’t get done on my time, and I’m a real ass when it comes to needing to have things done WHEN I WANT THEM DONE. You know what I mean, I’m sure.

  4. Oh Cass. Steps and I don’t get along. When 7 months pg with my oldest I fell the same way, although I somehow managed to break a toe and it was like 8 steps. Then you remember a few years ago, I fell, NOT pregnant and managed to break my tailbone. This is why my husband built a laundry shoot from the 3rd floor to the basement, using duct work and closets. He figures removing my carrying it down will decrease my chances of injury at least 50%. He’s right.
    Oh and it’s no wonder we get along so well – apparently at the same age, I stuck a fork in the outlet, blew the breaker and scared the bejesus out of my parents. Oh and my fingertips were all black.
    I love it!

    • Oh yeah, that’s the other thing I was going to say… You gotta install an laundry chute, from the upstairs to the downstairs. Your kids will never tire of playing with them. Just be sure the older one doesn’t try to convince the younger one to take a ride down.

      Even though I’d love to know how it works out… I could never get my brother to do it. So we just dropped a bunch of shit down there instead. Toys… games… balls… pretty much everything but laundry.

      • We have thought about it, but it’s more hassle than it’s worth. Matt had one as a kid and he said his brothers tried to shove him down it more than once, but his head was too big.

  5. Best part of our last town home in Chicago was the laundry room next to the master bedroom bathroom. I guess that would cause problems if things leaked or overflowed, but it sure makes a lot more sense.

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