Ouch!

I fell yesterday. Hard! Not too worry, baby Q is fine. But I have some pretty ugly bruises. I was on skype with my mom and playing with Harper in her room when I heard the dogs barking outside. Damar (our largest of the great danes by far) has a tendency to run after anyone and anything. She's harmless, but she definitely doesn't look it! So I ran to go get them (yes I know, I should never run) and I slipped on a tiny fridge/magnet/toy thing of Harper's that was not on the fridge. As I fell to the ground, I was stopped by the kitchen trash can, right in my rib cage. It scared me at first, because I got the wind knocked out of me. My rib is bruised and so is my arm. It hurts to lay down or take a deep breath. Otherwise, I'm ok.

The last time I was running around the house over something silly was when Harper was 5 weeks old. I tripped over my own two feet and broke my pinky finger. So, once again I learn the lesson that God did not make me to be a runner. Maybe this time I'll listen. Maybe.