Clutz Queen

I fall down. A lot. Since Jack was born I've fallen at least four times while holding or carrying him. I've always managed to fall so that he hardly even notices - as in I sacrifice my thighs, arms, bones, and internal organs to make sure he isn't affected. So far so good. I'd like to say that the reason I'm constantly off balance is because somehow childbirth has thrown off my equilibrium. And I'd like to say that I've fallen more since I was pregnant (and while I was pregnant) than before, but it turns out that I just didn't notice as much before because I wasn't holding a baby as I bit it.

None of the "before" falls was really worthy of mention since I have never broken a bone or had a concussion. No, I take that back. I did fall once in Germany and I busted my chin so hard on the cobblestone road that, in retrospect, I think it did give me a mild concussion since the next day I politely up-chucked in a Munich museum bathroom. And just now I recognize that those who were staring at me in the German subway bathroom right after it happened must have thought I had gotten in a brutal fight involving chains and hammers due to the explosion of bloody gore on my face and clothes. But at the time I was curious as to why everyone seemed so interested. And then I looked in the cheap, foggy, defaced subway mirror and all of a sudden couldn't control the sobs. I remember that - the humiliation part. It was a long train ride back to our hotel - me tearing up at my reflection in the train window for an hour, burying my busted face in my scarf. But I must have been in shock. I still have scars from that night.

I also remember confessing my fall to my mother who lovingly showed me her "matching" chin scar and told me the story about how she fell one time at school and how her friends dropped her off at the town hospital during their lunch period.. Thanks Mom.

But when in the hell did I become so accident prone? My body is constantly covered in bruises. I always knew that I would never be "beautiful" because of the constant injuries - bruises on my thighs, cuts and scars on various parts of my body, burns on my neck from the curling iron.. I've broken two glasses this month alone, both times cutting my fingers in the fruitless catch attempts. And thank God my partner likes granola chicks- the type who climb trees and then abruptly fall out of them.

But whatever. For someone who is such a control freak, it's odd that I have such little control over my movement. Here's hoping I grow out of it.