Grace is Not My Name

I am left handed and therefore always hurting myself.  You may wonder what being left handed has to do with it?  Well, nothing really.  It is just how I make myself feel better about the fact that I am not terribly graceful.  I have always aspired to be graceful, but it just comes out as a kerthunk! most of the time.
I am usually healing from a would of some sort, and I try really hard to stay out of the ER.  My husband appreciates it when I do too.  My lifetime of experience in the area of pain has given me a certain perspective and I rarely get upset about the ouches anymore.
My 12 year old son told me the other day that he has really gotten klutzy.  I just apologized and told him it is all my fault.  He thought I was joking and laughed and then saw my face and knew that life was going to require good health coverage so he better do well.
My latest injury involved tomatoes.  It is rather funny now that I think about it, but I am pretty sure it is the closest my husband has come to a heart attack in a while.  It do cause his ticker to beat rapidly from time to time.  And not because I am a super model.  I am laughing as I type.  It isn't nice to laugh but wow, you should have seen the look on his face.  This accident was a perfect foray into the Halloween Season!
I had been canning tomatoes all day and they had finally cooled off enough that I wanted to rinse the jars before putting them on the shelf.  I picked up two jars and headed to the sink.  It sounds like a long distance but really it is only about 3 or 4 steps.  I should have just held them in my hands, but no, I had them resting in my arms like a baby.  Just as I get to the sink to put them down, I realized it was stupid to carry them this way.  The larger jar clipped the sink and shattered in my hands as I was trying to set it down.  Tomatoes went everywhere.  It was like the jar exploded on impact.  There were tomatoes running down the counter and pooling on the floor.  I made a mess.
After getting upset that I had just broken a beloved canning jar, I realized I was bleeding on both of my hands.  Uh oh!  My 10 year son was sitting at the table and I calmly asked him to get his dad.  My kids don't mess around when they see I have hurt myself, it happens way too much.  He immediately ran upstairs and ordered his Dad downstairs, "Mom needs you Dad, now!".
I was nursing my wounds at this point and discovered I had little slices all over both hands.  The paper towel was covered in blood, not because of volume but all the tiny cuts everywhere.  My husband came downstairs with the what did you do now look on his face and then he went white.  I was starting to explain what happened when I noticed him turning white at what he thought was a puddle of blood on the floor at my feet.  Then he starts yelling.  "What did you do?!"  I, of course didn't know what he was so upset about.  I just had a few little cuts on my hands.  He starts working on me like I had hit an artery and then asked rather angrily, "Are those tomatoes!?".  He had noticed I just wasn't bleeding enough to justify that big of a puddle at my feet.  "Of course they are", I say.  Then it all came together for me.  I smiled at him and reassured him I was fine.
I had to apologize a lot that night for scaring him.  Next time I'll make sure I am carrying pickles!
I suppose I need to add a post about how to can tomatoes now!   It will have to wait until August when my tomatoes are ready.