Stupid stupid me.

Sunday morning. Church starts at 11:00 a.m. I can get me, a husband and three little ones ready and on time for church since it is at the "perfect" hour right?

Not this last Sunday.

I was all excited because for one rare Sunday Josh was home and I wouldn't have to juggle all of the kids by myself. (AND because I would really like to have my husband to sit by me in Sunday School/5th Sunday joint RS/Priesthood meetings!!) HAPPY DAY!!!

Kids were eating breakfast, I was getting ready, Josh was on a phone call. We were on track.

See, at our building you have to get there a little before if you want a parking spot in the parking lot and not clear across the street in a random cul-de-sac. And since a lot other families can now also get to church on time, you have to get there early so you can all sit on the same row together without making others play musical chairs. You know the drill...everyone scoot down two chairs, drag the bags of entertainment and cheerios and try to quietly get all of the kids into their assigned chairs without the "I don't want to sit by her/him" all while everyone is singing the opening hymn.

This Sunday was going to be THAT Sunday. We would be there on time, get a parking spot and get in our chairs all before the hymn started.

I should aim a little lower. Maybe just get the parking spot.

See everything fell to crap 2 minutes before we needed to leave. Shoes went missing, tights had holes in them, yadda yadda yadda.

On top of that, Josh came in and said that he had to leave and head into work. Someone had to be there to let some dumb somebody in to fix some dumb something or other and the "lucky" person was Josh. Of course it was.  I am told that it is the joys of "managment positions" but I don't see it.

So of course I got mad. Seriously? Another week being the "single Mom" at church? Fan stinkin tastic.

I yelled for all of the kids to get in the car and grabbed my keys. I went to head down the stairs in the garage only to find myself getting one of my boot heels caught in the other one.

It was one of those moments where you know you are falling but in slow motion. At first I tried to catch myself and then quickly realized it wasn't going to work. I fell down all of them and slid across the garage floor to the tire of my car.

Let me just say first...I am fine. Everyone is fine.

Maddie told me later that she didn't see me fall but "heard a big thud". I don't know about you but I don't really like the thought of being the "big thud".

She ran into the house to grab Josh. By then I was getting up and looked at my leg because that was the only thing that really hurt. It looked like a scrape so I figured I was fine.

We packed up and headed out and all the way through the meeting my leg was THROBBING. Of course the talks were on family and forgiveness and being nice to each other. All the good stuff to make me feel horrible about being angry at Josh to go along with the massive pain in my leg.

When we got home and I took my boot off (they go up to just below my knee) to see the damage it was like a giant lemon popped out of no where under my skin. It wasn't swollen before but just taking the boot off it swelled up huge. It is so very stylish. I only wish it was summer so I could parade it around. Maybe put a little bow on it and call it my twin.

Since it has been almost three years since my last leg flashing (I should just go longer...pasty white is never pretty) here you go. I wish I would have taken a better picture and when it was ginormous but a phone pic is as good as it is going to get.

The moral of this story....just don't get mad before going to church. And if you are, don't wear high heeled boots.