Mis dedos del pie son negros y azul.

Well, I shouldn't have worried about the Baptists trying to convert me. I should've worried about the roller skating.

Mis dedos del pie son negros y azul.

In the Spanish class we learned that "toes" in Spanish is "dedos del pie" or, literally, the fingers of my feet. Well, the fingers of my feet are black and blue. I should have worn steel toed boots.

I consider myself a practical, logical woman. I can think my way through most situations and so far, seem to have kept my three children alive. The kids wanted to roller skate. I thought, well, I'd be the only adult helping them, but as long as I don't wear skates we should be fine. Maybe we could even make it educational.

"Kids, here are your skates! How many rollers do you see on one skate? That's right, four. So how many rollers will E have on her two feet? That's right, eight. So how many rollers total will all three of you have on your six feet? That's right, 24."

Just that math fact alone should have alerted me to the oncoming danger. The other math fact I hadn't calculated was the proportion of centrifugal force three 50 pound children can have on their mother while flailing about with their arms and legs pointing in twelve different directions. The 5 pound steel skates on each of the six feet just make things more interesting.

Somehow I got them upright and clinging to the wall by their fingernails. I looked out at the rink and noticed all the other homeschool moms were sitting on the bleachers and I was the only adult getting out on the floor. The other children on the rink were zipping about at a high rate of speed and a low rate of control. No problem, I thought, I'll just stay to the outside. Of course, that was assuming I could actually steer this monstrous flailing mass of bodies and steel, that was hanging off my body.

We stepped out into the sea of human traffic and it started. Out of their twelve arms and legs, none were pointed in the same direction. I had three 50 pound tazmanian devils with a death grip on each of my arms and my waist. They were sinking fast and desperately seeking high ground. I was the bouey in the middle.

Then it happened. BAM! SLAM!!!

The last three toes on my right foot and the middle two toes on my left were taken out in a violent scene of stomping and sliding. My first instinct is to curse. And curse loudly. I opened my mouth and took in the sea of homeschool mothers sitting under the "Jesus is Lord" sign.

I roared instead. A momma lion roar but, thankfully, a G-rated lion.

L saw my face, cut his loses and struck out on his own. I never knew he could do the splits. The rest of the afternoon I spent shuffling pigeon toed between N and E.

At the end of the day, L said, "This is better than Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom!"

It is all about perspective, isn't it? Recently, my dear husband has mentioned that he wants to take all three kidlets to the ski slopes and have us teach them to ski.

He must be out of his mind.