Sunday, October 6, 2013

Sunday interlude

G is getting to the size where he's dangerous, I've decided. Well over 40 pounds but still a three-year-old entitled to a three-year-old's reaction to social situations, we were at an outdoor party this morning, surrounded by lots of bigger kids and lots of adults, and he wasn't comfortable. The lovely husband wasn't there, because if losing all your teeth doesn't keep you from Sunday softball, nothing does, really. So I spent most of the two-hour party with G on my right hip.

This happens sometimes, and now it sometimes follows with a consequence whereby all the muscles on the right side of my back cramp up for the rest of the day. I was fine at the party and I was fine at L's soccer and then we drove home and I parked in the driveway and kids bounded out of the car and I couldn't stand up out of the car. I was broken.

I wanted some ibuprofen but neither the lovely husband nor I take any medication, prescription or otherwise, very often, and I couldn't find any in the house. I was pulling the craziest things out of the upstairs cabinet -- gripe water, children's antihistamines, teething creams, a half-dozen "gentle" hair detanglers, a gazillion of those little plastic cups that come like dunce caps on the bottles of kiddie medicines, echinacea, some essential oils, nothing that would help my back.

I found a box, a promised three-pack of those disposable air-reactive heating pads that you wear on your body. That could be good, right? The instructions said to stick the adhesive side to my panties. What?

Okay, first, I'm sorry I made you read the word 'panties.' And now I've done it twice. Second, apparently these particular heating pads were for aid in menstrual cramps. Now I made you read that word, too, the "m" word. Third, I grew a little concerned. I don't suffer from menstrual cramps in the vicinity of my panties. I haven't since before I had kids. Physiology is a wild trickster, I tell you, and having three kids might have broken the right side of my back today, but definitely improved my cramps. Hey look! These disposable heating pads expired in 2006, right when E was born. Oh well, said I to myself, what's the worst that can happen? Either it won't work at all, or I'll set my shirt on fire. I've lost weight since I started running, and this shirt is a little too big anyway.

Air-reactive disposable heating pads could learn a little something about the element of surprise from physiology because not much happened at all. My back warmed a little, maybe because the thing was dulled with age or maybe because my shirt didn't grip my back like unders would cradle your lower abdomen. Maybe I just improved because G fell asleep on the couch and the lovely husband took the girls out for the afternoon. But pride goeth before a fall, and I had more-or-less forgotten about my broken back when I ran out for a gallon of emergency-bedtime milk and some fruit while I was there that would facilitate lunch packing and a brown rice salmon roll at the sushi counter because the guy was still standing there to make a fresh roll.

I stood up again out of the car and had no problem but I walked around to the other side of the car and tried to lift the bag that ordinarily would not give me pause, a gallon of milk and a few pounds of fruit and a takeout carton of quasi-sushi. And my back said HA! FOOL WOMAN and the bag crashed to the driveway and my sushi spilled all over the blacktop and my freshly tooth-brushed pajama'd children said, oh, no, your shushi! which almost made it worth it for the love in their voices and their mispronunciation I so enjoy

but all's well that ends well, because I had also purchased a little travel bottle of ibuprofin, and because I never take the stuff, it worked like MAGIC and now I'm fine even though I have the daunting task of convincing the three-year-old that he's injurious to his fragile mama.

And now we have an activity for tomorrow! We're inventorying the medicine cabinet! Look out, Furlough Monday! I have a bendy back and a helper who loves to throw things out and together, we're basically unstoppable. As long as he uses the step-stool.


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