Kiss My Butt . . .

I took the kids to the pool tonight. No road trip is complete without a hotel that has a pool and time for your kids to play in it. For those of you who are not parents, have children not old enough to swim, or somehow haven't yet gotten stuck traveling with your niece/nephew/significant other's kid . . . trust me, a pool is a lifesaver.

I've become immune to the "no running" signs, although I spend a significant amount of time saying to my boys "no running!" I know there is a safety issue with slippage and wet surfaces, but I always assume its mostly to keep from annoying other patrons.

Tonight, the boys were playing and I was taking pictures in my black polka dot bikini and sarong. I walked around the pool to grab some towels and headed back to our designated table.

There is a moment, in mid-fall, when you realize there is no compensating for gravity. My feet were out from underneath me before I knew what was happening. Somewhere in a millisecond that felt like forever, I realized that the wet pool tiles and I were going to meet, and not in a nice way. In no time at all, I was a heap of skin and black swim attired, splayed out in a pose that was probably not my most provocative or flattering.

Somehow, I managed to keep from damaging the camera, although my ego and my ass took the brunt. I had that moment where I wasn't sure I could walk, but once I caught my breath, I realized I wasn't paralyzed, just humiliated, annoyed, and in for some serious aches.

I'm heading to bed, dosed with some prophylactic Ibuprofen and hoping for the best. Right, now, the only evidence of the incident is a red line on my upper left bum cheek. Tomorrow, it could get ugly.

When my kids got hurt, they typically ran to me and said "kiss my owie . . . " It always made everything all better.

Anyone up for the task?

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife