why i hate two story houses.

i spent half of my childhood growing up in a two story home.
the summer before 6th grade my parents bought a two story house. i was pretty excited at the time, because i didn’t know any better. also because MY room in our old house was the old “storage room” that my dad had converted to a bedroom by building a closet and a wall. it was approximately the size of a shoebox (a toddler shoe box), and my new room was HUGE.
but with an upstairs room, came something i hadn’t quite conquered (or you wouldn’t think i had, judging by the number of times i fell down them)... STAIRS.
my mom used to get so mad at me for coming down the stairs in shoes that weren’t tied or (years later), strappy heels that weren’t strapped. i can’t even begin to count the number of times i fell down those stairs. it’s honestly astonishing that i never hurt myself.
the ONLY good thing about the stairs at my parents home is that they have a landing in the middle that breaks them up, so it’s not one straight shot if you do fall. the most stairs you could fall down is like 6.
fast forward to having kids and house hunting. a one story house was a MUST when we were house hunting in the woodlands. my pretty little daughter might be the clumsiest thing you’ve ever met and i just wasn’t going to take the risk of adding that obstacle in her life 😂. sweet thing walks into walls like it’s her j-o-b... never looking where she’s going. needless to say, we found our one story, and it was great.
fast forward again to house hunting in bakersfield. our choices were feeeewwww and far between. the one story homes we found were either in dire need for updating, too small, or too expensive. so here we are... living in a two story house.
it’s a beautiful brand new home. and i’ve been on pins and needles waiting for the first fall. i just had knots in my stomach thinking about my kids falling down those steps. presley actually is really good about holding the hand rails, and eli never climbs up or down alone. but you turn your attention to something for one minute and you never know what could happen.

and it did happen.






except, it wasn’t one of my kids.





it was me.




i fell down the stairs.





stop laughing.




i really hurt myself good. i was carrying eli, walking down the stairs, and my foot slipped right from underneath me and i landed really really hard on my back. my head flew back and hit the edge of a step and we slid down to the bottom. eli started crying, so i was sure we were both really hurt. i was carrying him on my hip and his left leg was behind me.
i was finally able to get us up, and, praise God, we are both ok.

4 hours later i’ve got the nastiest purple, red, and black bruise on my back left cheek, and my head is still throbbing. i was dizzy when i first stood up after falling, but it subsided pretty quick, and now it’s just a bad headache.

eli is fine, he was up running around in no time. i think it just really scared him. this whole thing could’ve been so much worse. i’m so thankful it wasn’t!

so, i’m basically a mess. welcome to my two story life.  💁🏼‍♀️