Last Saturday my mom arrived home from work around 2 a.m. She had just finished a long shift at the restaurant, probably had a couple glasses of wine as usual and had a late evening chat with some of her employees.

When she got home she thought she might have left her reservation sheet that she would need for the next morning, back at the office. She pulled our geared car back out of the garage but then decided to check the kitchen first before she headed back to the restaurant. She put the car in neutral and as she jumped out and headed back to the house she realised that the car had started to roll backwards. Instinct (she's like a friggen panther, I tell you) kicked in and she tried to stop the car. Being that the car now had a mind of its own, it knocked her over and successfully ran over her leg. She can no longer make fun of me for doing dumb things like putting the butter into the utensil drawer or how I can never find what I'm looking for even though it's sitting smack dab in front of my face. This one takes the cake.

If that wasn't enough, a few years before I was born she lost control of a bicycle (the brakes failed on her) as she was cruising down a hill and she went straight across the street and over the wall into Harrington Sound where they pulled her and her dangling ankle out of the water. They fixed the ankle but I guess they forgot to check her knee and she's had problems with it for years. About six years ago she got a replacement knee. This was the leg she ran over.

And my poor mother (if you can call her that- she's more like the extreme of clumsy) reminded me of when I was around 10 and I insisted we go on a bike ride rather than the walk she had initially wanted to do. I learned then, that my mother is a clutz of the highest magnitude when we were going up a hill just past my house and she keeled over on her side. Oy. After that I should have never let the woman operate any vehicle. She should've learned her lesson then!