Mommed To Death

(Every year, my family spends a weekend at a cabin with my parents’ college roommates and their families. My mom’s roommate married my dad’s roommate, so everyone is close. Having grown up doing this and seeing them at other events as well, everyone is like aunts/uncles/cousins to me. I am the second youngest of the children, and one year, the only one of my generation to come to the cabin. While everyone is walking up a hill, I trip over a tree root and send my glasses flying. Everyone starts talking at once.)

Aunt #1: “[My Name]! are you okay?”

Uncle #2: “Here are your glasses? Or do you want me to clean them? They fell in the dirt.”

Mom: “I have bandages in my purse back at the cabin. Did you get a scrape?”

Aunt #2: “Do you need to go back in and get cleaned up? Do you need to sit down?”

Aunt #3: “Did you twist your ankle? I bet if you put your foot in the lake you’ll feel better; it’s very cold!”

Uncle #1: *roughly helps me to my feet and brushes dirt off of my pants legs*

Me: “This is what happens when you have eight parents and one kid! I’m being mommed to death!”

(After seeing I was okay, everyone burst out laughing.)