What happens in my house if you’re gravitationally cursed.

“Gracie, stop messing around on your chair and sit nicely.”

If you were given a quarter at my house every time you heard that, you could take a nice trip somewhere. A very nice trip. Mmm….somewhere with palm trees and beaches and little umbrella drinks to sip while you’re reading…

Insert the sound of me rudely ripping myself back to reality right here. And my reality would include this morning, one well-warned girl who one moment was sitting upright in her chair at the table, happily chatting and filling out Valentine’s, and the next moment was lying on the floor, stunned and then screaming.

I’ve never understood how instantaneous this falls seem to be. Seriously, it’s not like I take my eyes away, or like I’m glancing at my girlchild while doing other chores. I’m looking at her the entire time. One second she’s there. Then poof! she’s lying on the floor – again, having injured herself – again.

Except last night, ooooh, last night was a bit of a…delicate?….situation. When I walked over to see if Gracie was okay, because there seemed to be a lot more genuine pain involved in the screaming than there usually is (yes, it happens that often – the falling, not the screaming), she was clutching her privates like, well like if she was a boy and someone had kicked her there.

“Gracie, what happened?” I asked, concerned and curious how in the world she could hurt that by falling off a chair.

“I-I-I sc-sc-scraped it when I f-f-fell of my ch-chairrr!” she wailed, not letting go.

I never knew this before last night, but there appears to be a line that your children cross when you, even as their mom, no longer feel like you can whip down their pants and check things out. Hunh. That wasn’t in the manual. I hesitated a moment, thinking about it. When Gracie was little? Whoosh! down the pants would go and I could check things out. Heck, even if Bee had’ve been the one to fall (HA! She with all the grace in the family), I wouldn’t have hesitated. But apparently, at almost-eight-years-old, Gracie had at some point cross that invisible line.

“Gracie, I have to check to see if you’re hurt. Is that okay?” She nodded, in between sobs and hiccups. Oh, the drama. (For both of us.) Everything looked fine. Well, scraped, certainly, but nothing had, oh, say, FALLEN OFF or anything. I think that’s when I decided I needed a glass of wine to get through the rest of the night. Except my girlchild was still crying pretty heavily. I helped her up as I tried to decide how to phrase things. “Gracie, you’re just scraped up. But if you…bleed or anything…come tell me, okay?” LordGod, please don’t let me have to have any discussions with her just yet with any words that rhyme with (ahem) rhymin’. Wine. I needed WINE.

The sniffles petered out and Valentines were finished. Bee had almost caught up to her sister – she wasn’t phased the littlest bit. Gracie falling is pretty much standard fare at out house.

Of course, then I started wondering whether to warn her teacher. Her dad I had texted straight off. I figured if I didn’t, Gracie would say something and I’d have freaked out if no one had told me. You know how things are today – you have to worry about everything. And speaking of Gracie maybe complaining or even just mentioning things…what was I supposed to do? Email her teacher in case Gracie told her that her privates hurt? Or would the very mention alone trigger a so-called investigation? BLAH! Why do parents even have to worry about these things?! What is wrong with this world?! I drank a glass of wine, figured that Gracie’s teacher and I had a pretty good, almost informal relationship and that she knew me, and also Corrie said to do it.

And so that’s how I came to be writing an email to my daughter’s teacher on Sunday night, explaining that my crazy child might have broken her girlybits because she is physically unable to remain upright for any length of time without injury. Of all the things I thought I would never have to do as a mom, that one ranks pretty high up there. Lord, does it.


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3 Responses to “What happens in my house if you’re gravitationally cursed.”

  1. Kathy Says:

    I hope things were better this morning. That invisible line – that is a tough one – I feel for you there.

  2. Gayle Says:

    Oh, boy. I hope Gracie is all better today. These kids put us into the most silly, uncomfortable situations sometimes, don’t they?!

  3. Mary Says:

    Try having a son tell you something hurts. Uncomfortable, for sure.
    Telling the teacher was the right thing to do, especially since you have a good relationship with her.

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