Clutziness

I am a clutz...a grade-A, classic clutz.  Just ask my wife.  If I was standing in the middle of a vast grass field, and there was one small patch that covered a hole, sure enough I would be the one fool to fall in it.  I can't count how many times I've smacked my head on the door frame of our mini-van...how many times I've tripped over dang-near every piece of furniture in the bedroom...how many times I've barked my shins on anything that is hard, made of wood, and stands shin-high....how many times I've caught my foot on that blasted 2 inch concrete curb in the garage.  I have a long history of such occurrences....and the scars to prove it.  Heck, even as a child, I could not carry a glass bowl through the kitchen without ending up in the ER needing stitches!  And we won't mention slamming my finger in the back gate 2 weeks before my senior year all-region tuba competition...yep, the finger responsible for the 1st valve.  Clutz, thy name be Jon.

About a month ago, my no-longer-secret-inner clutz reared it's ugly head yet again.  I could not complete the simple task of walking through the kitchen, to the table, to help Cameron with his homework, without doing my best to put my left foot through the kitchen chair leg.  I mean, heck, I was even looking at the dang thing and still booted it!  You guessed it, I was shoeless.  Yep, stubbed the heck out of my third toe.  Of course, broke it but good.

Then, to top it off, the next night, I stepped on a yet-to-be-determined toy in Lauren's room.  Uh huh, stepped on it RIGHT on that toe, flexing it backwards, which sent me limping away even more red-faced and in pain than before.  I had felt the bones move......shudder!

It turned all kinds of interesting colors, swelling up to the point where I could not even bend it.  Then as swelling slowly subsided, and the deep purple turned into light purple then over another week or so the lovely seasonal fall colors of orange and yellow, the bruising pattern revealed what I thought.  Multiple breaks.  One across the knuckle, one laterally back towards the foot.  No wonder it hurt so bad!

I decided to try and make this a teachable moment....wait, I hate that phrase....a learning experience for the kiddos.  After all, since they are my offspring, there is a very good chance that clutziness is inherited (mom, I'm looking squarely at you....), so I wanted them to see and realize that even a broken bone is not the end of the world.  They looked at it, and gave the biggest collective "EEEEWWWWWWWWWWWW" ever uttered in the history of the world.  They asked if it hurt, and I said yes but not too bad (wink wink) and it will get better.  Taylor kinda shrugged it off and hoped I would be OK.  Cameron walked over to the offending chair and smacked it telling it not to hurt his daddy. Lauren just wanted to kiss daddy's "booken tow owie" and make it all better (aaaawwwwww). 

A month later, the fall colors have subsided and it looks mostly normal again.  Several weeks of keeping it taped up and trying not to flex it seemed to have helped.  It is not 100% yet, and I have a feeling I will be able to tell when snow is imminent for the rest of my natural life.  But it seems to be almost healed.

Looking for a moral?  Life-lesson learned?  Something profound taught to the miracles that are our children?  Nope, none here.  Just a simple truth.  If you see me stumble, don't be a hero and try to catch me....back away...I might land on you and injure you as well.  You've been warned....