Marshes and Curbs

I'm sore today. Two nights ago, Ken and I went for a walk in the neighborhood, and I stepped funny off a curb. I hung there in suspended animation, lurched forward like one of those ski jumpers in mid-air. I managed to get my arms out in front of me and landed with full force on my hands, make that, wrists. No time to get the knees under me, though. The next thing to hit the street was the baby bump! I lay there, rolled over onto my back, dazed, taking an internal inventory.

Ken didn't know what happened, "Lorie?" He squatted down to my side, and I started crying - more from the surprise of what happened than anything else. Owie, the pads of my hands stung! We got up, dusted me off and kept walking. Although, every time we approached a curb afterward, I'd say, 'curb,' as if to give my feet a "heads up" before taking a potentially perilous step.

Later that night, sitting on the couch, Audrey rolled around under my skin, no worse for wear. :) She's been moving around enough lately that I've been able to grab Ken and put his hand over the bulges and bumps she makes before she "submerges" again. It's pretty cool.