falling. again.

I may or may not have mentioned before how very much I do not like it when I fall down. And I'm not talking metaphorically here, although the whole emotional fall down is a bummer too.

Let me recap. The past few days/weeks/months have been a series of ups and downs. This week, for example, was good because of the frequency of visits with the adorable girlies. The always entertaining Audrey and little Ms Ellie came home with Jack and me after work on Wednesday evening and it was delightful. We played outside, we ate McNuggets, we played princesses, we played ball with JoJo, we watched Ms E as she stood, alone, debating in her mind whether or not she was ready to make the effort to walk from the doorway to Jack's chair, marking her first possible steps (she wasn't), and we laughed as she played dog games with JoJo (dog slide, dog tasting, dog patting, dog kissing on the lips, etc.). The girls were happy and funny and cuddly and wonderful.

Jack and I had lunch yesterday with Jessie and her girls--Ms Jane, who seems terrified whenever another kid comes near, but speaks so very clearly and adorably and yet had the biggest issues with spillage of chocolate milk we've seen in a while, requiring a stop for a new outfit before heading to the aquarium. And Breanne who is now big enough to climb all the way to the very top of the play area at McD's, making sure other kids know she is coming down the slide and questioning why they are coming up the slide, all the while keeping her arm straight, protecting her bandaged elbow, which had been scraped in a fall on the steps, just before leaving their house, releasing her wailing, "BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD bloodbloodblood!! Blood! Mom! Blood!" She also pointed out that she had spilled cookie crumbs or something equally messy in her lap that would require purchase of a new outfit for her as well.

And through it all, Sweet Cailin slept, because morning is her best nap time.

Then last night we got some bonus time with Jessie's family after a trip south to a meeting of property owners in the mountain subdivision where our cabin property is located--a discussion about revising articles of incorporation and improving the water system and such. The highlight of the evening came later at Jessie's when I read one of my favorite books, "The Cat in the Hat Comes Back," to the girls. Years ago, I read that book and its forerunner over and over while waiting in the doctor's or dentist's office with the drummer or Jr.

Ah, but, of course, there were the downs--learning that my boss, my mentor, my friend, is leaving the company. Next Friday is his last day. I can't really post much about it, but it has been a painful situation. Painful enough that I even considered leaving the best job I've ever had.

But then this morning, I met with the new guy who plans to keep me around, doing the job I enjoy, keeping the remaining staff in tact and adding a new attorney.

And now that things at work are decided, and settling a bit, I know my boss will be okay. Of course, we'll have to train the new attorney when he or she arrives, but still.

After the meeting with the new guy, on the way down the stairs back to my office, it happened--The Fall.

Yes, I fell down the stairs at work. Not all the way down, just down the last three steps. Just? Just? It was like being in Jr High again except I fell down instead of up and there weren't dozens of teenagers laughing at me.

But it was the same slow motion movie--everything is going fine and then all of sudden, my brain realizes my foot has made a serious, perhaps fatal mistake and my right hand grips the rail tightly, somehow misunderstanding that even though I have pretty substantial wrists, one of them by itself is really not strong enough to hold up the rest of my carb-diet-sized body.

Good old reliable physics takes over and there I am, twisting and grasping and slamming into solid surfaces because-hello!--a body in motion stays in motion. Before I knew it, my knees were pretending they were feet, landing at the bottom of the stairs, and my face somehow, miraculously stopped its high-speed rush, just a breath away from the metal handrail, saving my beauty and my freckles and perhaps even my brain from damage.

I knew instantly that my left wrist was the body part that stepped up and took one for the team. The wrist contacted the rail, or at least, I think it was the rail. In a stroke of luck or good fortune (really?) it was more of a broad slam than a pointed contact, so nothing broke. Not the wrist, not the rail. I'm thinking this is a good indication of my bone density and the strength of steel.

Now, nearly 12 hours later, I'm becoming more and more aware of all the parts that were involved in the fall. And I'm pretty much convinced that even though there was no outward indication of blood associated with my fall, there is definitely somewhere inside of me that is wailing, "MOM!!BLOODBLOODBLOOD!!!"

And I need a bandage. Everywhere.