March Madness off the court

Last night, Ricardo left for a Man weekend.

But it's not yet the weekend, you say. Yes, but it's also March Madness. So, indeed - Man Weekend. Trust me, I will see his Man Weekend and raise it with a sweet Girl Trip. I'm tallying up the score until then. Because I'll be gone for the same length of distorted weekend.

I really want him to take some time and go have some funtime...at a basketball tourney, not at a strip club. Still, as good as I am with it, and as long as I've known about it, for some reason, his leaving caught me off guard. Seemed abrupt. And I miss him. Poor me.

After he left, I got the kids in bed and decided to drown my sorrows - my longing for my man -(he'd been gone approximately 1 hour) in cookies. So, I got my emergency cookie dough reserve out. The kids have no idea it exists. I make a gigantic bowl of cookie dough, bake two cookies each for them, and then save the rest for me. They have no clue. I am brilliant, for sure. So, I get the cookies in the oven and sit down to surf the web and watch tv and numb myself from the absence of Ricardo. Woe is me. When the timer for the cookies in the oven goes off. Whoopeee! I set the laptop down, hop off the chair and hurry up to the kitchen.

That's when I short step one of two steps up into my kitchen and fell, whacking my knee on to the corner of very hard and apparently very durable kitchen tile while my toes seem to be broken guessing from the fiery pain. I'd kicked and bent the toes back all at once on the lower step. The kids do this at least once a week, and it always sounds horrific. They just hop right up and get back to playing. Not me. That effn hurts, y'all! Ofcourse, I have an extra 100 pounds of force driving my knee into crushing pain. Fine, 125 pounds on them. But still.

I must have yelped in pain, because my son sacrificed his good name - he should have been asleep - to ask if I was okay. Right before I was about to yell at him to go to bed, I thought to walk to the bottom of the stairs and ask what he said because I couldn't hear from the continuous yelping still, in my head.

Some what hesitant at this point, because he should have been asleep, "I....just....uh...Are you okay, Mom? It sounded like you hurt yourself."

What a guy. Sigh. "I'm okay, babe. I just fell on that step and hit my knee like you guys do sometimes."

"That really hurts. Are you bleeding?"

By then I was up in his room, sharing a bonding moment of comparison of wounds. I showed him my knee. It wasn't much to look at. I promised him we could look at it tomorrow and see if it swelled up.

"Cool! I'm glad you're okay."

I still ate the cookies. However, I think what made me feel better is that my son is looking after me while Ricardo was gone.

That's how I roll.