A Spoiler-Free Post with Beans & Corn & just a Hint of Mishap
Did you happen to not see the season finale of Downton Abbey? Me, too! Which means you have come to exactly the right place!
(For an excellent re-cap of last night’s episode for those of you who did watch, do read Melissa Wiley’s latest post over at Geek Mom. [I’ve heard that] it’s wonderful!
For all the rest of you behind-the-timers, (myself included), be of good cheer. This post with its harrowing narrative will assure you that it could be much, much worse. My son! He nearly! Broke! My! Leg!
[insert soap-opera-worthy theme music here]
It all started at my doctor’s office with her recommending that I eat more beans. (Legumes, technically, but it’s all the same.) Legumes, legumes, the magical fruit! The more I eat, the more…
Forgive me. Forgive me for adding legumes to my diet.
They are good, though, and they are very healthful. In fact, I had just put a big batch of black bean soup on to simmer (with corn, at this point, but not yet a hint of mishap) when I went upstairs to talk to my husband. My teenaged son was in the office with him—hanging out, watching YouTube videos, killing time before he left for a friend’s.
“Give your mom a hug,” I told him. “The last one of the day.”
(He was staying over at his friend’s, you see. I get a little weepy at times like these.)
(Not really, but I do milk those moments for extra affection.)
He ambled over good-naturedly and gave his old ma the hug I’d requested, and then…to my complete & total surprise…he dipped me. He dipped me! As in, Dancing with the Stars except I am so not Marie Osmond! As in Dancing with the Stars and I saw stars!
I felt a jolt go up my leg like lightning and heard an unnerving sound, half pop/half rip. My husband came over with a chair and took a quick look at my contorted grimace. He then did what most people did in such situations: he started to laugh.
Which, in turn, made me start to cry.
Which made him stop. Which was good. I mean, really.
He stopped when he saw that I WASN’T KIDDING and quickly got me installed on my recliner with an ice pack. My son–my poor son–must have apologized two dozen times. I forgave him, of course, but spent all of Saturday…reclining, with my swollen knee propped and various children signing my “cast.” (In this case, we’re talking my other good leg. I did not let them touch my injured limb.)
Oh, and about that black bean soup? I ate lots and lots of that black bean soup because I’d made it the day before, you see, and did not–could not–get up to cook.
Plus, eventually, having eaten black beans…
I was left alone by those cast-signing kids.