Just for the sake of disclosure, it should be noted that I am not a graceful woman, therefore – nor was I a graceful child. I have face planted in the middle of a busy Seattle mall while shopping with my girlfriend Kathryn – bags and limbs flying in all directions, badly skinning both knees on the mall flooring, before she even noticed I was no longer with her. I recall being splayed out on the floor wondering what had happened when suddenly I saw her face peering down at me:
Kathryn: “Oh good heavens (she’s British) are you all right?”
Me: “Do you think anyone noticed?” (of course this was my first thought!)
We both glanced up at the same time and noted that a small crowd had gathered. Words alone simply can’t express how mortifying this was – until we looked at each other and started laughing. She later described the “whooshing” sound she heard while I was airborne and the entire way home she just kept saying “WHOOSH” and we would dissolve into hysterics.
My husband, after over 20 years of marriage still seems confounded by my clumsiness. I fall off chairs, trip over air and he still asks “What the hell are you doing?” In the office, no one even bats an eye when they hear a crash and then a barrage of muffled swearing – it is what it is…
It baffles me to this day, that my parents thought it wise to put me in figure skating. I can only surmise that they assumed if my feet were encased in boots with BLADES (along with deadly toe picks) and I was on a solid and unforgiving ice surface, that somehow I might be transformed into Dorothy Hamill (my mom even attempted to give me her stylish mushroom haircut). This was pure folly of epic proportions. I was constantly tripping over my toe picks, skating in the wrong direction, or messing up a routine during a performance. I remember one performance in particular where we were all dressed in these little Yankee Doodle costumes. My mom who was an assistant coach was costumed to resemble an old lady – I believe she was representing Betsy Ross. We were all supposed to skate in a circle but I tripped on my toe pick (of course) thus landing on the back of my own blade (much like falling on your own sword!) which cut deeply through my nude tights and caused a domino effect with all of the skaters behind me also wiping out. Coincidently (or not) this was the exact moment that the local newspaper decided to take a photograph for their next edition. This photo still exists, where I am clearly visible, sobbing – while clutching my bleeding knee thoroughly unaware of the train wreck I had caused behind me.
When I wasn’t figure skating, I was running around the arena like a lunatic while my brother was playing hockey. I don’t recall actually ever playing with other kids although I’m sure I probably was. I had this little navy blue nylon jacket with white faux fur around the hood and I always had my hood on with the chewed up toggle strings held firmly between my teeth.
I remember being in a bathroom stall one day, when I glanced down and noticed that the feet of the woman beside me seemed to be performing some sort of spastic dance. Now before you judge me, please bear in mind that the information presented to me concerning anything to do with my body or anyone else’s for that matter, was minimal at best. Against my better judgement – I felt that an appropriate method to investigate this matter would be to slide on my back (with my hood still firmly tied in place) underneath my stall and into hers. I was ill prepared for what I saw (as was she) and she screamed loudly, while I believe I was going into shock. Now imagine if you will – you are hovering over the toilet, minding your own business, when a child slides underneath the stall (face up) looking not a little but a LOT like Kenny McCormick from South Park. In retrospect, I’m unsure what my reaction would have been – It all happened so quickly, but after she screamed, she hit me in the face with her keys. I told no ONE about this incident – until I choked out the whole sordid tale a few years ago during a late night sleep over with my daughter – it is unclear if she has recovered yet.
In this circumstance I will be like 85% of the population and blame my parents (you will recall, a randomly chosen percentile with absolutely no scientific data to back it up) for my naivety concerning anything to do with the human anatomy.
As most children are, I was naturally curious (about absolutely everything) and I can only imagine how my constant and relentless probing must have horrified my dignified and private mother. Rather than have to verbally explain a sensitive topic to me, my mom was more inclined (and comfortable) handing me a pamphlet. I assume that before I was old enough to read, she probably just redirected my attention with something like:
Mom: “Oh look – there’s a unicorn!”
Me: “I SEE IT TOO!”
I was surrounded by unicorns during this time – along with my (non- anatomically correct) Raggedy Anne and Andy.
The Accidental Parent 