Monday, September 28, 2009

Oopsy Daisy

*I'm a clutz.

Some ways I know:
  • I wear clutz marks - mostly in the form of bruises - that serve as reminders of my clumsiness.
  • When I find a new bruise on my shin, I'm a) not surprised and b) unsure of when I got it - because there are that many moments it could be from.
  • Haki tells me so.
  • Haki laughs when I hurt myself (as opposed to running to my aid).
  • Haki sometimes calls me "Bella".
  • I once managed to flick a scoop of icecream from its tub up in the air so that it hit my forehead. I tried to pretend it didn't happen, and just keep talking. It didn't work.
  • Sometimes when I spill something, people say, "How did you manage to do that?" as though I've done the impossible.
  • Finding stains and spills on my clothing and not knowing how long they've been there was not a pattern that commenced with motherhood. I've walked that road, I know it well.
  • When I got a, "Hello! I'm run-down!"-ulcer in my mouth this week, at first I wasn't so sure it was an ulcer - I thought maybe I'd bitten that spot while chewing and had just forgotten...because that seemed just as likely a cause.
  • Yesterday, when I filled the laundry sink to soak those poopy Esky clothes, I somehow managed to hook the base of my pyjama sleeve underneath the faucet as I flipped it on...and effectively filled my sleeve with water like a big ol' funnel. That water wasn't warm yet either.
  • Minutes after the drenched arm incident, I managed to spill Milo on the matching pyjama pants. I'm not sure how. I think I did a little dance for Esky, and shook the mug...maybe? To make things worse, I'd had only just put those PJs on when I woke up - as I was having a sicky day in, and so "got dressed" for the day in clean PJs.
  • If Haki's holding Esky, and wants me to toss him something (e.g. the remote, his cellphone after it's received a message, a towel, a wipe, a muesli bar etc.) he holds his other hand way, way, way out, away from Esky's body - sometimes he even points at a location metres away, as a suggestion, and then retrieves the item rather than attempting to catch it in close proximity to the dear one.
Why I, at times, forget this* to be true:
  • Because I'm so skillful at picking things up with my beautiful feet. I can flick items up behind me and catch them without looking. I often hum "Just a Spoonful of Sugar" as I do so, because it's just plain magical. Sometimes I look around in the hope that someone, anyone has just seen what I have done.
  • I'm a veteran when it comes to "nice saves". Child about to pull a cloth off a well-stocked table? I'm your girl! Precariously balanced dried dishes about to topple? I'm there! Foolishly placed item on the dashboard about to slide to the floor? I swoop, I save, I score! I am pretty much the best nice save catch I know.
  • I'm so good at parking. Well, that is, unless you're watching from the curb. Or talking to me. Or it's raining. Or you're tooting at me from behind. Then maybe not.
  • If the world depended on me hitting a mundane target with a small pebble, I would be so very Desmond (see note 24).
  • And the number one reason I forget I am, in fact, a clutz, is because even the most coordinated, "unclumsy" people around us do uncoordinated, clumsy things...sometimes....
...right, Honey?

You broke how many eggs?

Yolk happens.
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