Just call me Grace.

I should preface by saying that I wasn't the most coordinated gal to begin with, but pregnancy has really brought out the klutz in me. I walk into things regularly and spill at virtually every meal. I'm not really sure what that's about, perhaps some clever quirk of evolution to prepare me for the tornado of boo boos & spills that children bring?

I really outdid myself last night though. Our otherwise perfect dog Beans has a nasty habit of splashing water EVERYWHERE when she drinks. I walked through the kitchen to kiss Mr. Val and slipped in a puddle of said splashy water and went down HARD. I somehow managed to defy the laws of physics/gravity by simultaneously doing the splits and hitting the top of my knee on a cabinet. Being the uber tough broad that I am, I burst into hysterical tears right there on the floor. Poor Beans was scared shitless and ran upstairs to shake in the corner while Mr. Val scooped me up and did his best Florence Nightingale impression.

Then I started to panic because baby Sadie, who moves so much I swear there is a 2nd baby in there, stopped moving. This caused me to cry even more because I convinced myself I'd knocked my precious baby unconscious. Mr. Val made several very compelling arguments as to why it was highly unlikely that I'd given her an in utero concussion, but asked if I'd like to go to the hospital just in case. I gave it some thought but then realized that turning up to the hospital and saying, "Hi. I slipped on a patch of black ice in my own kitchen and now I think I've given my fetus a head wound" would probably have earned me a trip to the psych ward, I decided to just go to sleep instead.

I woke up this morning to Sadie's daily Judo chop session and a serious bruise on my knee and ego. Needless to say I think I can officially rule out a second career in ballet.

XOXO,