So, this past weekend, hubby and I decide now is as good a time as any to start tackling our projects around the house. Namely, refinishing the bathrooms. We decided to begin with the downstairs bathroom since we don't really use it that much (hubby uses it mainly in the mornings after he goes for his morning run and to shave prior to leaving for work).
Since hubby had 4 days off for the Fourth weekend, we knew we could at least get things off the walls, patch decaying drywall, sand and paint them a fresh new color, clean the shower, and strip the floor of the god awful vinyl tile.
We? Actually accomplished all of the above mentioned! Now, hubby is working on tiling while I? Am sitting here on top of an ice pack. Why you ask? Because I decided it was a novel idea to fall off of our retaining wall yesterday.
Yes. You read that right. I tumbled off our retaining wall 5 feet or so after slipping on the wood because it had rained the night prior. Yes, I'm okay. Just a little bruised in the nether regions along with a bruised ego.
Thankfully, hubby was home yesterday. He was actually walking out back when he heard me screaming and Little Man A screaming. He knew right away that someone had taken a fall and was hoping and praying that it wasn't me WHILE I was holding Little Man. Thankfully, I was not. But, let me tell you. It's even more scary when you have a child screaming because you yourself are hurt. You can tell them that you're okay, but they just witnessed you vanish over the side of the cliff.
When we finally made it back inside, Little Man was calmed down and I was trying to catch my breath, do you know what my child did to me? He smiled and smacked my leg. As if to say "Mom! Didn't you tell me not to get too close to the edge?! Why'd you fall?!! Don't ever do that again!!"
I know it will take me while to recover, but hopefully he won't remember that moment his mom temporarily disappeared over the wall.