This week has swung and served healthy doses of the opposite ends of the spectrum to us this week.

On Monday, I received a call that I will be inducted into the Athletic Hall of Fame at the University where Chris and I both attended (insert me tooting my own horn here). I used to play volleyball and after graduation I’d like to think I turned into somewhat of a decent human being, so I was shocked, honored, and excited to receive this award.

And then, to my own doing, I made sure that joy left as quickly as possible.

Tuesday I decided to make a delicious ham and au gratin potato dish for dinner. I threw caution to the wind, got out the mandolin cutter for the first time ever and threw even more caution to the wind and decided to use it without the safety guard. Because what idiot needs that cartoonishly large safety guard?

We  all see where this is going.

I slice, what I think is, a sizeable chunk of my pinky. I take a quick glance at it and make the rapid observation that half my finger is missing. I yell at Chris to get off the phone, lay down on the floor to not pass out, and Chris proceeds to bandage me up with my hand hanging over a bowl (I’m sure this looked like a medieval leaching).

I assess the damage the next day and decide I should go to prompt care because it wasn’t a cut, but more a shave. Two hours and many dollars later at prompt care, I, NO JOKE, walk out with a bandaid because I made up the severity of my cut in the state of shock I was in after it happened.

Proceed to Friday where preparations for our first wedding of 2016 are taking place.

We had to order 95% of the flowers in, since all we have at the moment are sweet peas, but it was so great to be able to tuck our sweet peas into the bouquets.

My camera was sitting on the table where I was arranging flowers, I swung around to grab something and my large caboose knocks my camera off the table and lands lens-first into the ground. My favorite lens is now completely broken and in pieces.

While wrapping up the bride’s bouquet, Chris calls me from the house on my cell phone, “Mom just called and my bees are swarming!” (We keep our bees at a separate location…long story.)

Chris takes Linc with him so his mom can watch him while he goes and collects his bees.

Chris got the bees, they are fine.

We got the wedding out the door, I’ve yet to break or slice anything else.

How do we keep going? And frankly, why do we keep going? Why do we pick up the pieces (after I have specifically broken them), learn our lessons, and move on?

Lincoln will trip on something outside, collapse to the ground with a thud, barrel roll out of it, wipe his pants off and announce “I OKAY!” even though no one has asked him if he is, indeed, okay.

I think there’s a lesson I can learn from my son. Make a mistake, awkwardly stumble out of it, brush it off, and announce “I’m okay!” even if no one gives two toots if I am.

This next week, I will watch where my hips are going, stay away from sharp objects, and try to bribe the bees into staying so we can all enjoy some sweet honey this fall.