The past few days have been crazy with work and other stuff and I haven’t had much a moment to sit down and think. So I didn’t get to work on this post as soon as I wanted to. Regardless, here it is in all its glory.
Here we go.
I am not much of a football fan. I don’t really understand the workings of the game and frankly, I like basketball better. But Greg is a football fan and for him, I’m willing to give up a Sunday afternoon to watch the Super Bowl.
Now, something you should know about his family is that they’re all Giants fans. Very serious wearing-the-colors-on-game-day-and-gathering-together-to-watch-the-game people. And I have to admit, I like that. But I’m not that into it. I wore a regular t-shirt to Greg’s cousin’s house on Sunday, whereas Greg wore all Giants stuff. He kept asking me if I wanted to wear one of his giants shirts for the day, but I declined because 1. they’d be too big on me and 2. have I mentioned I know pretty much nothing about football? I would feel like an imposter.
So off we went first to Greg’s sister’s house for a visit with her family and Poppy, who is back in town for a short time before leaving for Florida for a couple of months. Zoey, of course, played shy until Aunt Kim and Lisa, Zoey’s cousin, kept offering her pieces of cheese out of a salad. Trust me, if you offer the girl food, she’ll be your friend for life. I think probably Zoey would have been fine staying there for the rest of the afternoon, but we had promised Greg’s cousin, Kimmy, that we would head to her house to watch the big game.
So, we stayed at Kim’s for a couple of hours and then headed to Kimmy’s house to hang out. When we got there, everything was fine. It was just a small gathering–just Kimmy’s husband and two sons and her mom, Donna, and us. I liked that it was a small crowd (boy, did I love it a couple of hours later when I made a fool of myself) and Greg, Zoey and I totally had a good time chatting with everyone, eating the awesome finger-food on the counter and watching pregame stuff on the TV in their kitchen. Miss Zoey, in particular, couldn’t get enough of the sour cream and onion chips.
The trouble started when the game was just beginning and Kimmy mentioned that they had their big TV playing in the loft area of their house and that we could watch the game up there. Sure. I had never been up there before and their house is GORGEOUS and I thought, why not? When Kimmy and her mom headed up the stairs to the loft area, Greg, Zoey and I went too.
Kimmy, her mom, Donna and I in the loft. You can just see a little sliver of Zoey to the right too.
Zoey looking through the wooden railing of the loft.
The area up there really is nice. It’s cozy and is totally perfect for watching games on the TV or spending time with the family. At one point, Wyatt, Kimmy’s son, brought his rabbit up and let her roam free for a while (the baby gate was up across the top of the stairs because Zoey was up there).
Zoey discovered that beanbag chairs rock:
Isn’t she just adorable?
She was so happy, she managed to flash some gang signs:
Word to ya motha
Everything was going wonderfully. The game had started and everyone was cheering. I was sipping on a caramel white russian. Zoey was playing in the loft.
Me and my baby. See my haircut?
I have no idea what I was doing here. Zoey seems to be wondering too.
We were all having a great time. Zoey was a little whiney, but that was because she had inspected every inch of the loft and was quickly annoyed with the fact that she and Mommy were on one side of the baby gate and Daddy was on the other side where she could, say, play on the stairs or run around the living room downstairs.
Greg took Miss Zoey downstairs to give me a break for a few minutes and I relaxed into my chair and attempted to understand that which is football. After a few minutes I sort of gave up and decided to make my way back downstairs to check on Greg and Zoey and watch the game with them.
I started down the stairs. Pretty much everyone was in the kitchen area, snacking and watching the game. I’d just quietly go down there and hang out. No problem. I put one foot in front of the other.
And then, all of a sudden, I was lying at the bottom of the stairs with a broken wine glass in my hand.
It happened that fast. One minute I was walking and the next minute not so much. Nothing says ‘Hey, fat girl!’ like falling down the stairs.
As I laid at the bottom, I contemplated for a quick second whether or not I could possibly get up without anyone noticing what had happened. But since the kitchen and living room area are completely open and the stairs lead RIGHT TO WHERE EVERYONE WAS STANDING IN THE KITCHEN, there was no chance. Then I debated whether or not it was physically possibly to just sink into the floor and disappear. Again, no chance, because everyone was already crowded around me, pulling me back on my feet and asking if I was okay.
Sure, I’m okay. Just want to die of embarrassment. Nothing big. Oh dear Lord.
Naturally, because I’m a tough-as-nails kind of girl, I burst into tears.
Let me explain something right now: I HATE being the center of attention. Hate. Hate. Hate. I’m what you’d call a bit sensitive and when something happens that makes me the center of attention, like, say, falling down a flight of stairs, all I want to do is curl up in a ball and die. I also hate opening presents in front of people and giving speeches. Pretty much anything that includes all eyes on me.
And Greg’s cousins are totally like the cool kids and, I’ll be honest, I wanted the cool kids to like me and think I was cool too. Kimmy is gorgeous and sweet and wonderful and I’m, well, me. Pay no attention to Igor in the background; she’ll just stand with the group and be happy she’s part of it.
So when I fell down the stairs at Kimmy’s house, the last thing I wanted was for everyone to notice that it had happened. But everyone was so NICE about it. I handed my broken glass to Kimmy and apologized all over the place for breaking it. I asked that someone check the stairs for broken glass, but I was pretty sure the glass had broken into three pieces, two of which I was still holding in my hand when I came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and the third had rolled to the bottom next to me.
I tried to CALM THE HECK DOWN, but OMG I had just fallen down a flight of stairs and everyone had seen and I had broken a glass and why was my hair so wet? Oh right, MY ENTIRE DRINK HAD SPILLED ON MY HEAD at some point on my way down the stairs. THE WHOLE THING. In fact, when I asked Greg to make sure there wasn’t any drink on the stairs for someone to slip on, he looked and then grinned because there was nothing there.
When this all went down, Greg and Zoey were standing at the bottom of the stairs, so they had a front row seat for my spectacular fall. Poor Zoey burst into tears as soon as she saw me at the bottom (like mother, like daughter, apparently). She tends to be very sensitive when stuff happens to me and she gets upset if she sees me crying or, you know, lying in a big heap on the floor.
So, after I got to my feet and handed over my now-broken glass to Kimmy, I took Zoey and held her close, her cheek against mine (as she prefers when she’s unsure or scared) and whispered that Mommy was okay while tears streamed down both of our faces. Donna, Kimmy and Greg kind of formed this protective circle around the two of us, hugging us and making sure we were okay.
I told the group that I was okay, that my butt hurt a little bit, but it was mostly my pride that was bruised. Or broken. Dear Lord, did I have any pride left after that?
Zoey and I ended up cuddling on the couch in the living room because it was close to her bedtime and we both needed to relax. She stared into my eyes while I told her over and over again, “I’m okay. Seriously, I’m okay.” Her little brow was furrowed for a few seconds while she listened to me, but then she must have believed me because she laid her head down on my chest and promptly fell asleep.
In the meantime, Donna and Kimmy made me another caramel white russian to take place of the one that was soaking into my hair and I sipped on that until I was no longer embarrassed and more interested in how the TV in the loft was a few seconds ahead of the TV in the kitchen, which made me dizzy since I was pretty much sitting in between them in the living room and hearing only echo.
Needless to say, Greg ended up driving home that night.
But, before we left, Greg went back up to the loft and took a picture of the stairs.
“Why are you doing that?” I asked.
“Because I know you and you’re going to want to scrapbook it or something,” he said.
Boy, he sure does have my number.
So, here you go:
The stairs of death
That night, I could barely sleep because my butt was really sore from my fall. When I looked in the mirror the next day, I found the source of the problem: a football-size (fitting, don’t you think?) purple bruise on my ass, another one on my upper thigh and a little one on my ankle. Hey, when I fall, I do it all the way.
It is now five days since the super bowl and my butt is only now starting to not hurt when I sit down. The first couple days were doozies since I have a desk job.
Anyway, the Giants won the Super Bowl. Everyone in the family was excited. Madonna sang ‘Like a Prayer’ at half-time, which Zoey and I danced to (while I whispered the lyrics in her ear) before crashing on the couch. Wait, she sang other songs too? Yeah, they didn’t really count. Only ‘Like a Prayer’. If she had sung ‘Express Yourself’, I probably would have peed my pants with excitement. And THAT definitely would have made me be the center of attention.
For more pictures from our Super Bowl party, click here.