Sunday, November 28, 2010

I'm Sure It Was Graceful

Let me set the stage for you.

Saturday morning, 11:00a. At the pool for what seemed like the gazillionth time on this Thanksgiving trip to the beach.

Dale is in the pool with the girls. Ivie's pretty self-sufficient at this point, as long as she has her princess ring around her. She's also the more cautious of our girls, so we have little to worry about with her. Plus, she was being entertained by her 12- and 9-year-old cousins.

Macie has a love-hate relationship with her float (also adorned with princesses). She loves it for the first 5 minutes, and then decides she's too big for it and would rather be jumping into Dale's arms into the pool. Coincidentally, Ivie is still not a huge fan of jumping into the pool, unless she's holding Dale's hands from the start of the jump. Like I said. My cautious one.

Macie, on the other hand, is not scared at all. Which is, of course, very scary to her mother. Ivie came by her cautiousness honestly, let's just say.

So back to the story of how this trait ultimately gets the better of me.

We've passed the 5-minute mark wherein Macie stops enjoying her float. So the float is sitting, unused, on the side of the pool. There is a man alone in the pool with what appear to be his three kids. Two boys (probably 9 and 7) who handle themselves just fine, and what appears to be a 1.5-year-old sweet little girl who obviously needs most of daddy's attention.

As I sit watching them, I can see that the boys would love to wrestle with their dad in the water. But he continually is distracted by the needs of the little girl, who wants to play, too. So, while Macie is taking a break and sitting on the side of the pool (safely away from the edge and only about 6 feet from me), I tell Dale to ask the man if he would like to use Mac's float for his little girl - so he doesn't have to give her 100% of his attention. Dale thinks it's a decent idea (or else he just doesn't feel like arguing with a pregnant woman), picks up the float, and heads across the pool to the other dad.

Macie picks this exact time to stand up and edge toward the pool, while looking over at me saying, "Mommy in?". (She'd asked me to get in with her multiple times already, but I, of course, did not have my swimsuit on, so this wasn't an option.). As she nears the pool, she begins to bend over (toward the water) and point at it. With Dale's back turned, of course, and him probably 15 feet away from her at this point.

This is when the overly-paranoid mom in me takes over. (Who am I kidding? My entire being is as a paranoid mom, so it really didn't have to "take over".)

I quickly stand up from my beach chair 6 feet away and take 2 steps toward her (obviously intending to grab her and move her back from the edge).

I don't make it.

On my second step, both of my flip-flops totally slip out from underneath of me on the wet pool deck. I obviously can't watch myself, but I envision myself being horizontal in the air, heading quickly toward the deck (gotta hate gravity sometimes). Again, I don't see exactly how I land (and those that do spare me the details), but from the parts of my body that still hurt today, I'm guessing it was my tailbone, left elbow, and right wrist that take the brunt of the fall. An hour later, it was obvious that the wrist is the body part that appeared to have lasting damage.

Three hours later, after an urgent care visit that was, by no means, fast, I am diagnosed with a badly sprained wrist, given a splint, and told that sprains could hurt just as badly as breaks and could last for quite a while. I'm so very thankful that it wasn't broken - as I sat in the waiting room, awaiting my turn, I couldn't help but think about all the mundane daily tasks (showering, bathing the girls, strapping them in their car seats) that would have been ever more difficult if I had a cast on my arm.

As I look back on this and try (really hard) to find a funny side to this saga, I think of the fact that the only way that Macie probably would have fallen into that pool would have been if I would have kicked her in as I slid toward her on the ground. Which I did come dangerously close to doing.

By the way, the little girl didn't want to use the float. Figures. Guess she was having more fun with her daddy, too. I should just learn to mind my own business, shouldn't I?

Man. This post took me a long time to type.

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