Oh how the mighty have fallen

Hot damn it hurts when you fall and pretty much bend your ankle juuuust to the breaking point before it fails to snap.

In what could only be termed a miracle that I was not carrying Jack at the time, I bit it on the concrete stairs tonight. There was flying of objects, a sickening sound of flesh scraping the concrete, bruising of the knee and the aforementioned ankle fun.

Josh was holding Jack out on the sidewalk and I was walking in front of them on my way to the car when it happened. Of course, my first inclination was to cry. Then it was to laugh. Then I alternated both while writhing in pain on the ground.

My husband showed great concern. My son? Not so much.

"Look at that, Mommy fell. Oh but there are my hands! Let's put them in my mouth. Why is Mommy on the ground? She must be trying to learn to crawl. She's silly. Oh and look! My feet are here too. Wait, are the boobs OK? Did she injure the boobs? No? OK great. Now let's play with my toes."

Josh has been battling a nasty case of tendinitis in both wrists for the last month and is just now starting to see some progress from his physical therapy and regimen of ice and Advil.

So we're just getting him back from 15-day DL and I'll be listed as day-to-day with a high ankle sprain. Please refrain from whispering about our use of performance-enhancing drugs. I have never injected him in the ass with human growth hormone.

It was a B-12 shot, I swear.