Yesterday, at Baby Gymnastics--futile exercise (literally) in Baby Diva energy harnessing--I ran off to snag her before she could complete the emergency room visit portion of her floor routine. As I did, I tripped over my own graceless feet, and ended up doing quite an impressive tumble of my own, with the exception of a rather sloppy dismount which had me face down on the mat in front of the other 2 year-old participants and their mothers who held up binary number cards in judgment. I was mortified, but picked myself up and continued toddler pursuit.
However, today, I realize that the result of not sticking that landing are black and blue arms that feel as though they are going to fall off. I seriously cannot get over how much they hurt considering that I carry a 30 pound weight around for 14 hours a day and those muscles should be in much better shape.
Matthew, in his Kindergarten sweetness held my right arm in his sticky fingers (which I bit my lip not to show the excruciating pain) the entire way to his baseball game reassuring that, "We'll take of you until Monday, Mom."
I wonder what happens on Tuesday?
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