Terror in the Midwest!

It's been a very scary week for a couple of reasons. First, we're experiencing the first real cold snap of the winter months . . . and I'm not liking the start of the midwest chill. Not. One. Bit. It hasn't been above freezing for over a week and isn't supposed to climb above 20 until Friday. That's six more days of freezing my ass off. I'm usually not all that susceptible to the cold but something is amiss these days. Seriously, I haven't been warm in at least 10 days, maybe a couple of weeks. Yes, I know about layering. In effort to warm my chilled bones--STK says it's because I don't have more than an ounce of fat on my body--I've been wearing four shirts: undershirt, long-sleeved thermal shirt, another t-shirt, and a quilted flannel. That's right, a quilted flannel. Look, I was sporting the grunge look before anyone even knew Kurt Cobain. Off my back. Even with my not-so-alternative quilted flannel, I still can't manage to get warm. The problem is the lower half of my body. STK, TLO, and I hunted and gathered a couple pairs of long johns yesterday and that helped a little. Still, despite wool socks my toes are perpetually cold. That's one of the hazards of wearing steel-capped boots; once those caps get chilled, they take forever to warm. Slippers solved the problem for a couple of days but, as you'll soon understand, the toasty footware ultimately met a rather unceremonious demise. Sierra Trading Post to the rescue. Please get here soon! I mentioned my freezing problem to my mother a few days ago. I received an email this morning that said, "Keep an eye on the mail. Warm clothes are on the way. I've sent some wool socks, thermal underwear, and a couple more quilted flannels." Too funny.

The second moment of terror, and far more serious than me freezing my ass off 24/7, involves TLO. As a result of my old slippers, slippers with a rather slick bottom, I slipped down the stairs leading from the 2nd to 1st floor. TLO had just finished his evening bath and I was carrying him back downstairs. With about five stairs to go, my feet totally slipped out from underneath me. Not a little slip, but a complete loss of footing. Think feet-shooting-out-from-underneath-on-a-patch-of-ice kind of slip. To make matters worse, I typically carry TLO facing forward. For whatever reason, he's not much for the head on the shoulder thing. He's much more of the "let me face the world head on" type. So, I usually carry him in the crook of arm, his legs dangling and his hands free. When I fell and crashed on the stairs, I managed to keep him out in front me; thank the goddess I didn't drop him in an attempt to catch myself. I slammed into the stairs, TLO pitched forward, I started to slide down the few remaining stairs, shot my right arm forward to catch a flying baby, twisted my body around, and crashed into a bookcase/curios type thing. Despite the pain shooting through my body, I jumped up, ran to the sofa, and immediately did a first aid assessment of TLO. TLO cried, while STK and I freaked out. TLO escaped without a scratch; I wound up with bumps, bruises, and one scratch. If that's the price for keeping TLO safe and sound, I'll take it. Once I knew TLO was unharmed, I marched myself to the kitchen and deposited the slippery slippers in the garbage.