Lately, I’m all about taking back my life from the irresistible, wild-blue yonder that is social media. From Facebook to Twitter and everything in between, I have GOT to get a grip and re-engage more fully with the lovely people in my “real” life.
So yesterday afternoon, I herded the girls outside to the swingset for some fresh air before dinner (pointedly leaving my iPhone inside, sad and alone on the ktichen counter). Once I got both girls swinging, my six-year-old begged for an Underdog.
Swinging on a better day.
Now. Everyone knows that, for maximum effect and thrill, a true Underdog requires that the pusher, upon delivering a mighty push, must run directly underneath the swinger and emerge victoriously on the other side. If you don’t, you’re just a dirty cheater and it’s not a real Underdog.
Being a fairly coordinated, athletic gal, I wasn’t worried. After all, I’ve performed many a spectacular, shriek-inducing Underdog. I just didn’t know that on this day, the shrieks would come from me.
Yes, I’m afraid I sustained an injury pushing my daughters on the swings. I know, can you even believe it?
If I could just paint you a picture here, you might understand the ridiculous chain of events that led to me falling to the ground, clutching my hamstring and trying not to land in any deer poop. (God knows this would have been priceless video.)
Let me break it down for you:
- If you have ever attempted an Underdog, you know that timing is critical. I had begun my running push, had Olivia high above my head and was about to duck under when…
- My hands slipped off her back, causing her to fall directly onto my face as I tripped.
- The force of her falling snapped my head backward — so my knees buckled, my face and chin got scraped by the seat of the swing, and…
- I crumpled in a heap of intense pain, embarrassment (OMG, are there any adult witnesses?) and, after a bit, hysterical laughter.
It’s a good thing that I heal fast. (Although for the record, I am limping today.) And it’s even better that I am so freakishly good at laughing at myself. If I were someone who truly feared looking stupid, I might not ever set foot in my backyard again. Nor would I ever again interact with the neighbors whose yards face mine.
However, being extremely well-practiced in the area of Looking Foolish (see any of a number of painful 1980s photos of me floating around the internet), I figure I can handle this. It’s probably a good idea to reacquaint myself with the feeling, anyway… I have a hunch that turning 40 this year will bring sandboxes full of indignities my way, whether I’m ready for them or not.
I say, bring ‘em on!
26 Comments
February 18, 2009 at 4:03 pm
Well, I’m just glad you aren’t seriously hurt! It always hurts more the day after… Indignities, schmignities. That’s the nice thing about getting older – you no longer care (so much). ; )
February 18, 2009 at 6:26 pm
Hey Liz! Thanks for the sympathy. You are SO right — the older I get, the less I care what people think. There ARE advantages after all! How is your tri training going?
February 18, 2009 at 5:28 pm
Seems to me that if you already gave birth to two kids – presumably in a hospital with the requisite number of onlookers (tip: don’t choose a teaching hospital if you’re shy) – I would say that the worst indignities are behind you!
Hope you’re out running again soon, Lea!
February 18, 2009 at 6:28 pm
Hi Sharon — you make an excellent point, of course! I plan to be back running (gently) by Friday.
Two days off should probably do it — along with Advil & ice!
February 18, 2009 at 7:14 pm
OUCH! I’m impressed at how you handled this…I just got punched twice in the eye whilst putting my babes to bed – not on purpose, mind you – but hard enough to see stars. I was decidedly, pissed.
February 18, 2009 at 8:49 pm
Julie, I’ve been in those shoes, too.
This time it was just too ridiculous not to laugh — especially because it was my own dang fault. Clearly, I should be banned from all moving equipment. In fact, after witnessing this event, my little one refused to let me push her anymore!
February 18, 2009 at 8:12 pm
AhahAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!
GIRL!
Is it bad that I laughed first, then caught myself in time before I posted anything other than sincere concern for your health and welfare in the comments section of your blog.
Seriously, LOVE the look of your blog, LOVE that you’re underdoggin’ with your kids, and LOVE that you can laugh when you think that maybe just maybe no good deed really does go unpunished!
February 18, 2009 at 8:56 pm
Lady Heather Hooks-a-Lot: No really, I’m GLAD you had a good laugh at my expense. I mean, I am in traction but whatever it takes to bring you some good cheer. For my next trick, I’ll be crossing the street blindfolded and drunk.
Gaaah! It was so awful… I wished I had a.) someone like you with me to appreciate the ridiculousness; and b.) your gift for da funny writing. You would’ve knocked this one outta the park (or at least my backyard)!
February 18, 2009 at 9:25 pm
Ok…. at first I was laughing during your set up that you may have pulled a hammy. Then when you went all the way down….. I was wincing in pain for you. Wow. Your 6 year old must have been really scared. Wow. You are really, really lucky that you weren’t knocked out cold.
I do really like that you have to rehab from an underdog. It is classic. You will be really tough in the rehab clinic.
February 18, 2009 at 9:30 pm
Lynnie, thanks for wincing and for your genuine concern. NOW who’s got the sore butt??
I know you can relate with your running injury! It’s so nice to see you here… I really appreciate the comment. I hadn’t even though about actual rehab — but that’s not a half-bad idea. Catch you on the flip side (email)! 
February 18, 2009 at 10:34 pm
Okay, now I feel like a big jerk. I was having a really bad and exhausted day and when I read your post I was in delirium mode, just laughing at everything.
Of course I’m feeling just awful for you. Nothing feels worse than getting hit by anything. It’s a shock and the pain makes you feel sort of… scared. And like Lynne said, I’m sure your daughter was a little scared as well.
I apologize for trying to make you laugh when a hug would have been far more appropriate.
And I think your Underdog thing is genius. ((L))
February 18, 2009 at 10:53 pm
Just for the record, I did manage to calm my girls down quickly and they were giggling with me in no time! Especially later, at the dinner table as we re-enacted it for Daddio — he was already convinced that I’m secretly 76 and not 39. I think this about clinches it for him.
At least I didn’t break a hip.
February 19, 2009 at 6:45 am
Oh my Gosh! I have never heard of an underdog and I hope it will not be requested from Grandma’s. Although Mimi and I are in good shape, I think we would agree to stay with safer play activities such as sandbox. No sense in risking a hip! You, being a triathlete, can do the underdog. Will there by another try after you heal? Will we see this dare devil stunt in Las Vegas?
February 19, 2009 at 7:09 am
I needed a laugh this morning and you provided it. You have a gift for painting a mental image and we can all feel like we are in your neighbor’s house looking out the window on the off chance that we’ll see something scandalous and then amazing that we get to see this event unfolding before our eyes. Of course, I can hear the swear words spewing from your mouth (which words were said and which kid repeated them later for Daddy?) and see the painful fall. I’m so sorry that you have injuries from that wonderful picture perfect moment of engaging in life. You were doing the right thing, after all! I can sympathize with you as I look at my assorted bruises from rough housing with my two. So pop a few advil and call me later, sista…
February 19, 2009 at 10:12 am
Hey Rae! You know, for once I think I kept it fairly clean… was probably too busy whimpering to use my naughty words.
I’m doing much better today… I’m not even sitting on an ice pack!
February 19, 2009 at 9:27 am
You are a fool. Wish I could have seen it! I’m sure I would have been gushing with empathy. Thanks for sharing with all of us!
February 19, 2009 at 10:10 am
Thanks for the supportive comment, “Sara”! (For the record, everyone, this is the same sister who seemed to relish informing me that today’s JCrew size 2 is yesterday’s size 8… bursting my weight-loss giddiness bubble.)
I WILL get you.
February 19, 2009 at 10:15 am
I don’t understand single digit clothing sizes.
February 19, 2009 at 12:27 pm
Nursing moms in my family are NEVER in the single digits, believe me!
Your body is busy concentrating on the most important thing… nourishing another entire human being!
February 19, 2009 at 4:19 pm
Are you pretending you’re nursing now? I like that one. I’ll have to use it…
February 19, 2009 at 10:04 pm
See? That’s why I never consent to do underdogs for the kids!!! You have lived my greatest fear when it comes to swings! I always felt wimpy for saying “No, Mimi doesn’t do underdogs”. I won’t any more! I’m glad you are only bruised and battered—not broken. I do wish we had video of it though. Wouldn’t that be fun??!!
February 19, 2009 at 11:25 pm
Mom! Is this your first-ever comment on a blog? I’m getting all teary over here! Seems that so many of my friends and loved ones (here and offline) have echoed your sentiments about refusing to do Underdogs. And now we know why. Live and learn? Naw, I’ll probably do another one…
February 20, 2009 at 8:32 am
Did I ever tell you the story of the underdog I had to do in Door County with the neighbor boy? He’s 6 and probably heavier than I am. So after I gave Grace an underdog, he asked for one, too. Not wanting to be cruel, I consented. My heart was pounding and my palms were sweating as I contemplated how I was going to manage this. The swings were also set low, which as you know, complicates the underdog motion. So with a quick prayer, I pushed him as high as I could (no easy task), and then I was off. I grabbed onto the swing and started running under, only to quickly realize that I was not going to make it. I took the safe route and ducked to the side, only narrowly escaping decapitation. Whew. No damage done.
February 20, 2009 at 1:00 pm
Rachel, I do remember this story. You want to be all about the equal opportunity underdog, but when the kid is HUGE… geez, I’d fake an injury to get out of that one.
February 20, 2009 at 9:13 am
OMG your Mom is so cute, Lea!
February 20, 2009 at 12:58 pm
I know. She is cuteness on a stick.