i wrote this sunday morning.
holy moses. i just tripped on a toy that someone, probably the three year old, left on the stairs. i came terrifyingly close to a serious injury, and possibly going unconscious. my husband is not home and won't be for around six hours. no one is expecting us anywhere until 5:30 this evening, but i frankly doubt anyone would worry if we didn't show, they might not even notice. it's the huge communal seder at synagogue and they expect more than 100 people.
suddenly, i'm forcibly reminded of, and reawakened to, the perils of the isolation built into most of modern life. i live in a stand-alone house. my parents live 15 hours away. my mother-in-law lives an hour away. my closest friend is right around the corner, and we see each other quite frequently, but not every day. and we certainly don't check up on each other to make sure the other one isn't unconscious in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs.
my children would have, i think, no clue of what to do if i fell down the stairs and broke a leg and went unconscious. we've been wary of teaching them about 911 because our oldest is the sort of kid who would dial it for an experiment. the middle kid isn't, but she talks about everything incessantly and she worries about upsetting things. how do i teach her to call 911 if i get injured? not to mention they can't open the front door. we deadbolt it with a key so they won't let strangers in. the littlest already understands how to turn a lock to open a door. they could easily let paramedics in through the front room window, or escape a fire that way, but they couldn't let anyone in through the door. they might be able to get in and out through the garage, but it's a mess of epic proportions right now, so i'm really not sure.
my ankle still hurts ten minutes later, and i'm scared and unnerved. *shiver*