Sometimes, we learn things the hard way. For example, I have learned in the past few days that I am physically capable of doing the splits.
Yes, that’s right. I am physically capable. Ha! Who would have thought that?
I certainly didn’t.
Coming into the house, chasing after the kids to get to bed, I took my shoes off; which in itself is an unusual thing. I wear shoes all the time. If shoes are not on my feet, slippers are.
Not this time- of all times.
Our house, being built in the 1800’s, is drafty and cold. We keep a comforter on the couch. It’s rarely folded, and is most often in use. The comforter was half on the couch and half on the hard wood floor. I was redirecting the children toward the kitchen to take their vitamins before bed, when one foot stepped on the comforter, the other stayed on the slippery floor.
Slowly, as if I were a character from a cartoon, my children were becoming taller and taller as I start to feel the tendons in my legs stretch and pop, one-by-one.
It wasn’t but a moment later, that the kerplop of my butt hitting the floor shook the entire house. In less than ten seconds my son was crying, “Momma got hurt!”
My middle child looked at me with pained, humiliation. She just shook her head.
My oldest daughter sat down next to me in hysterics. Asking between fits of laughter, “Mom are you okay?”
I was stuck. One leg pointing east, the other west. Laughter poured out of my lungs as tears streaked my face.
I couldn’t move. I just sat there, muscles throbbing. The two girls were going back and forth about how “Momma has fallen and can’t get up!”
My sweet little boy, crying, begging and pleading for the girls to call an ambulance.
My middle child finally looks at me and says, “Well mom, at least you know you can do the splits.”
She’s right. I now know that I can do the splits. Additionally, I know that I have muscles in places I didn’t think existed in women.
No ambulance was called, much to my son’s dismay. However, it’s been three days and I’m still not walking like I should be.