Full of Grace

I can't believe I forgot to write about this until now.

Someone needs to walk me through setting up an eBay account. I have two, nearly full punch cards for the local park districts Monday morning open gym. They are worth $20 each, and since I'm never going to open gym again, I should sell/donate them, huh?

I feel bad about planning to never go again, because Johnny loves open gym. He can run around in the wide open space, find plenty of balls and blocks to throw, and watch the big kids do cool stuff. I love it too, truth be told. It is really nice to spend two hours without worrying too much if Johnny will find a way to brain himself on some sharp corner or hard surface. Open gym is one big soft surface.

But we are never going to go again, because last time we were there I left after almost dying of embarassment. See, I fell. And it wasn't a quiet, inconspicuous kind of fall- it was more like a neon-colored, sound barrier breaking kind of fall. I was chasing one of my three-year old buddies around the gym, and we were laughing and screaming about whether I could or couldn't catch him. I was going to shortcut one of the inflated mattresses to triumphantly catch him, when I caught my foot on the edge and went flying. FLYING. So after 45 seconds of hang time, I (OF COURSE) landed in front of the circle of parents that wears pants without elastic, shirts without stains and is perfectly groomed. I think that one of the dads was leaning against the mattress I tripped over, so I'm sure I knocked it out from behind him, which only served to highlight my stupid, clumsy self.

S tells me that I handled it well. I laid (sprawled) there for a moment, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me forever, and then climbed up and asked Ryan (the three year old buddy) why he tripped me. Everyone laughed, and I moved on. I mean, I moved on outwardly. Inwardly I went over and over and over the incident, wondering why I can't just sit there and calmly play with my toddler instead of running around like a dope, calling attention to myself everywhere I go.

I'm still so embarrassed about it, almost a week and a half later. I cried to T about it, as he bit his lip, dying to be able to laugh at me. I did let him laugh at me, later. Later still, I joined him. But don't you laugh. It isn't that funny yet. Maybe in another week.

Uncle Vince would never fall at open gym. He's far too cool to fall.