Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Pride Cometh Before the Fall, Although Just Barely.

JenGC left a comment on yesterday's post that, "There is never a dull moment at the Ribbit house huh!" I got the comment after stumbling in from running our morning errands. I don't think JenGC knows how right she is. We don't even have to stay home. The drama follows us.

Our last stop of the morning was to run into the Wal-Mart to get some coffee and bleach, not to be consumed together, of course. While I was there, I picked up two 40lb bags of compost to scratch into the dirt where the bush beans were so I could plant some rutabaga. Usually when picking up soil bags, I like to balance the bag across the shopping cart like I do dog food in order to make it easier to get my arms around it to transfer to the car. No such luck here. The cart was far too wide and the bags too short to drape across. I knew when the bag hit the bottom of the cart that this was going to be trouble, and toyed with the idea of asking the register lady to call some help, but decided to hoss it out, myself.

Not the best decision of my life.

I got the first bag out and in the car just fine, however, my grip slipped on the second bag, so I balanced it on the side railing of the cart to adjust my hold. It's amazing the things your mind can process in an instant. The cart began to tip towards me and I knew instantaneously I was going to fall backwards. I judged my position, knew I was neither going to hit the cart return to my right or my rear view mirror on the left and was pretty sure I'd miss the curb behind me. Not fully trusting the calculation between my head and the curb, I made the distinct decision to let go of the bag and thrust my elbows behind me just in case the curb was closer to my head than I thought.

I fell completely backwards. Letting go of the bag, the only thing that kept me weighted forwards, resulted in propelling me backwards like a slingshot, but I judged correctly and got my elbows beneath me just enough to only tap my head on the asphalt.

I swear. You can't make this stuff up.

I lay there for just a second, trying to work out what happened, then I heard the boy in the car wailing that his mommy was dead. The shopping cart was on its side; the compost was now flat on the ground and I knew there was no getting it up with my Bert-and-Ernie arms. To make matters worse, the man who witnessed the entire show and who was parked just on the other side of the cart corral, snickered and pulled out of his parking space without a hi-de-do.


A few seconds later, someone did come by and say he didn't see it, but his daughter yelled straight in his year as she watched me fall, so he came to help. I choked down my pride, decided to be a girl, and let the man pick up the cart and cow excrement. I thanked him for helping and told the little girl she had a gentleman for a daddy, something every girl should wish for.

By the by, the boy was still sobbing throughout this because Mommy's elbows were bleeding and he was convinced I had broken a bone and his mommy was dying and wouldn't be his mommy anymore and the police were going to come get him, but he didn't want a new mommy and what would happen to his sister, but I wasn't really going to get in the car with those bloody elbows, was I? Because that would make a mess.

The girl, who henceforth had remained silent on the issue says, "Mommy, you fall. You silly goose, Mom. Mommy, whydju do that? "

I don't know why, but I do know I'm incredibly grateful I moved both kids to the car before I started unloading the cart. It's something I always do without thinking, but now I know it's for good reason.

So now I'm sitting here, several hours later, the impact still lingering in my elbows, waiting for the feeling to return in my little fingers and nursing my bruised ego with peach cobbler.

Those rutabaga had better be worth it. :)

The morning comes early. Sweet gardening dreams.


  1. your life sounds like a movie. Very funny stuff. I am glad you have a blog, and you share it.
    :) Rosey (cow excrement, nice term.)

  2. HA! More like a comedy of errors, and usually this stuff doesn't happen back to back like it did this week, but the blog does help mend bruised egos by realizing how silly it is to take yourself too seriously.

    I'm still getting a hang of this blogging stuff, but I think I'm begining to like it. Thanks for continuing to stop by, Rosey. It makes it worthwhile.

    I'm just glad I didn't pitch forward and land on my knees. I HATE landing hard on my knees.

  3. Tomorrow will be an actual gardening post since this is a gardening blog. I promise. But the compost story technically fits because it's going in the garden tomorrow.

    Hopefully. :)

  4. Oh, the memories you invoke. I once stepped out of the back of a pickup camper, donuts in my left hand, baby daughter in my right arm, and the step gave out under my feet. I passed that baby to Mr. H like a pro quarterback with a football, and the made a perfect jump shot to my son with the donuts. But an athlete I'm not...I lay crumpled and bleeding on the ground, while Mr. H....LAUGHED!!! Jerk.

    I hope you are alright.

  5. That boy is too funny (my mommy's dead!). He's a bit of a dramatic one it sounds like. I hope your elbows heal quickly and I'm glad you didn't whack your head on the curb!

  6. Ouch! Sorry you fell down Ribbit. You did teach your kids that it's good to let someone help you, so well done.
    When my boys were little, if they hurt their elbows falling down, we called them 'yell-bows'. :)

  7. You have a seriously wonderful sense of humor. And a thousand curses to the guy who drove off without helping!

  8. Granny, I would have paid serious money to have seen that. The baby is one thing..babies bounce, but the doughnuts. That would have been a travesty.

  9. Amy, the boy is completely melodramatic. He has a very soft heart, sometimes too soft, but he's a very loving boy. He's a bit fixated on death since the dog died. We're working on getting him a healthier concept of what it is, but it's hard for him to wrap his brain around it, and even harder to talk about it without fueling the fixation. *sigh*

  10. hidinginmygarden, we try never to let the kids see their boo-boos because it seems like it doesn't hurt and they never cry until they see blood...but I'm here to tell you it hurt. Blood or not. :) I'll not begrudge them a boo-boo tear again.

  11. Sue, I've already made a sacrifice (threw two mangled cukes in the's as much as I could muster) and wished that his pristine truck would get hit by a flock of birds and their industrial strength bird poo.

    Laughing was one thing for I'm sure it looked quite comical, but seriously.


    Double jerk.

  12. You poor thing! I feel like I have jinxed you! I understand your son. I had a "fall backwards" moment once. I was puppy sitting for my sister's new puppy because I was going to get one for my daughter for Christmas. I was feeding her and my wide behind caught the door to the dishwasher. I couldn't turn around to catch my balance so I went backwards over the dishwasher door. Needless to say, that dishwasher never cleaned another dish again. I fell back and slamed my head on the wood floor. I didnt know what century I was in. She came running in screaming "MOMMY!! MOMMY!!! ARE YOU OK???" I said yes but could not quit crying for the life of me. I know that just made it worse. Well, glad to say no brain damage but she was torn up. She is a very sensitive/dramatic child as well. I actually read in a book that it is a quite common personality. Your daughter on the other hand, is very...down to earth? You really should chose your activities wisely. Falling backwards is just not that much fun! lol

  13. Oh dear Ribbit!
    I bet that you're very sore today.

    I'd forgotten how spoiled we are here in the country. When I bought my umpteen bags of compost... the coop loaded them up for me.

    Then I've found that my teenage son (15) can easily empty the truck of my compost bags.

    Those 40# bags are heavy!!! My wrists were hurting for weeks while I was mixing soil and filling boxes...

    I, the fairy god mother of all things too heavy to lift... give you Ribbit permission... to have help with such things.... ; )

  14. Amen to you Toni. Hopefully Ribbit will listen to you. I have already tried. She is just too small to lift those bags and there is no shame in asking for help. The rutabagas certainly don't seem worth the effort.
    A Mom grateful for Ribbit's safety.

  15. Oh, man... I'm sooo glad you're ok, and you put the kids in the car first! I kept yelling in my head, "What about the kids? Were they in the cart? Were they even with her?!?!" Like reading a suspense novel, I NEEDED to know!!! LOL I always put my 18mo in last, but will change that habit right quick after reading your story!

    Granny~Your story is TOO funny! Glad you saved the donuts--I mean your daughter! ;-)

  16. JenGC, they really are two totally different kids. It's funny to see it come out like that, you're right. The dishwasher sounds so much worse. That has sharp points. Yikes!!

  17. I humbly accept your blessings, Toni. :)

    You know, the bags REALLY aren't that heavy. I lift the large potting soil bags all of the time. I suppose that this bag, being a small one,concentrated all of the weight in one place.

  18. Momma_S, I always put the kids in the car first because I'm afraid of them 'dancing' in the cart and it rolling away while I'm loading the groceries.

  19. Momma, I'm fine. I've cracked heads with the boy worse than this. My biggest problem now is the boy keeps telling me not to fall and the girl keeps poking my elbows asking if my boo-boos still hurt.

  20. Oh, OW. My entire maternal side of the family are pratfallers. We trip, we run into walls/doorways/bedposts, we bruise, and we feel like idiots. Maybe we're distantly related?

    Sorry about the snickerer. Maybe he knew he couldn't help you while being weak from laughter, but mostly he does sound like a jerk. Hope the child recovered from his trauma! If you're like us, he'll probably want to get used to it.