I have seriously not had the urge to write lately. I don’t know, it comes and goes for me. Some days I think I’m gonna be the most awesome blogger ever and write about everything that happens in my life and such but the next I don’t want to share even the tiniest things and feel insecure about people reading my thoughts. Not literally of course.
Still I want to share. Sometimes. This is one of those times.
This is the story of a mother that put her son to sleep at 7:30 pm on a regular tuesday night. Happy with the conquests of the day (including making Leon poop in the toilet 3 times! (Yes, this makes me happier than I ever thought a poo could)), I started cleaning up around the house like on any given night. Only to end up face down on the bathroom floor, bleeding from the head at 8 pm. Now here’s the awkward part. I was washing my breastfeeding pillow. A stubborn little bugger. The pillow, not me. So there I am, in the shower with the pillow. When I finished washing it I was struggling with getting the water out. So what did I do? I decided to stand on it.
Next thing I remember is laying dizzy and confused on the shower bottom. First though: “that’s awkward, better stand up fast and pretend this did not happened”. Then I see drops of blood hitting the white tiled floor. Second thought (maybe I even said it outloud): “No, no, no, no this is not happening”. I stood up and looked in the mirror and saw my face looking a lot like this:
Lightheaded I ran to the phone. I was terrified of passing out with Leon asleep in the bedroom. I called my parents house, my grandmother, my sister and Carlos at work. They all came over. It was chaos! My father and my sister took me to the emergency room where they stitched me up real good. Six stitches.
OK, OK, I am sure that after seeing the second photo you think I was exaggerating with the amount of blood. But I assure you I was not…
There is a lesson here. Don’t be stupid. I was lucky. This time.
This was two weeks ago but I must say that the wound is healing quite well. Here I am cooking dinner yesterday. We had homemade meatballs or “baby-burgers” as I chose to call them.
Anyway, writing is fun. I hope I’ve recovered my mojo even though my ego remains scattered allover the bathroom floor.