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.

Jerk

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.