You’ll Never Believe What Santa Left Under The Tree

The women in my immediate family have never really been known for our grace. We’ve certainly made valiant attempts to become more graceful – Mama taught ladies’ exercise classes for years; I took ballet until I was eighteen; Sister cheered all the way through high school – but by and large, we’re a stumbling bunch.

And while Mama has always contended that she doesn’t drink alcohol because it makes her thumbs numb and thus renders her incapable of cutting her food, I personally believe that part of the reason she doesn’t imbibe is because she fears the effect that alcohol would have on her balance. Remaining upright is a tricky proposition for all of us under the best circumstances, and there have been many times when we’ve been known to trip over a perfectly flat expanse of floor or a pesky molecule of oxygen that’s floating underfoot.

Don’t even get me started on the effects of, you know, the wind.

It’s probably no surprise that all three of us have fallen down stairs and suffered broken bones as a result of our astounding poise. Mama fell down the stairs at our old house and broke her arm; Sister broke an ankle when she took a tumble down some exterior stairs at her office (in fairness, I believe there may have been some icy conditions involved), and I fell down our basement stairs and broke my leg because apparently air makes me lose my balance.

In short, we’re an orthopedist’s dream.

When D and I bought this house last year, one of its biggest selling points was that it would enable us to be free and clear of stairs. There are just a couple of steps up to the front door, and the only steps inside the house are two very wide ones that lead down into the living room. Given my family’s propensity for falling, fewer steps seemed like a very good thing indeed.

Well.

A month or so ago I asked Mama if she wanted to come for a visit after Thanksgiving and help me decorate my Christmas tree. Mama loves to decorate a tree, whereas I love to put up garland and hang wreaths and set my dining room table with Christmas china. So we make a pretty good team – especially since I rank the methodical placement of ornaments right up there with getting a root canal without the aid of anesthesia.

Sunday afternoon D put up our trees, and Monday I pulled out all the storage bins that are filled with decorations. I’ll be the first to admit that the boxes have made the house a little, um, cluttered right now, as evidenced by the fact that yesterday morning I walked into the living room in my sock feet, accidentally stepped on top of a large plastic Rubbermaid lid and slid, as best I could tell, approximately three-quarters of the way to Tuscaloosa.

I am an elegant, nimble flower.

Yesterday afternoon I left the house so that I could run some errands by myself, alone, without anyone else with me, and when I got home Mama had made tons of progress on the tree. Nobody can decorate a tree like she can – unless it’s Sister, who has some mad tree decorating skillz her own bad self – and aside from a few finishing touches, Mama’s work was done. The tree looked beautiful.

A few minutes later I was in the kitchen, and I heard a noise that I’ve heard countless times in my life, a noise that clearly indicates Oh My Word, Someone Has Fallen. The noise was immediately followed by D saying, “Are you okay? ARE YOU OKAY?,” at which point I took off down the hall, more than a little bit worried that there was a trip to the emergency room in our near future.

But right before I walked into the living room, I heard Mama laughing. She was laughing A LOT. And she was assuring D that she was perfectly fine, that yes, she had lost her balance, but she was absolutely, perfectly fine.

I can’t even tell you how relieved we were.

And y’all?

When I stepped down into the living room to check on Mama – knowing full well that she was fine but just wanting to make sure with my own eyes – and when I saw what you’re about to see, I collapsed into a laughing fit so severe that I nearly wet my pants. And while what happened wouldn’t have been even remotely funny if Mama had been hurt, the unusual nature of her (thankfully) minor tumble left us all with an incurable case of the giggles.

But before you look, just let me assure you that MAMA REALLY IS OKAY, PLEASE DO NOT BE ALARMED, SHE IS FINE, SHE WAS LAUGHING WHEN I TOOK THIS PICTURE, IT IS OKAY FOR YOU TO LAUGH, TOO.

We still haven’t been able to figure out how she landed in this particular position. But I guess that when you’re as klutzy as we are, the only surprising thing about falling down is that sometimes you wind up in the most unexpected locations.

With the most unexpected views.