After returning to The Greatest Chiropractor in the World a couple weeks ago, I had several blissful, headache-less days, and full nights of restful sleep.
And then I rolled my ankle and fell on my ass.
Every vertebrae in my back felt compressed together again, and I was back to pain, stiffness, and uncomfortable nights.
The Greatest Chiropractor in the World squeezed me in on Tuesday morning, and I was in bad. shape. But by the time he was done I could move my head from side to side again, which means I can now safely change lanes and back out of a parking spot.
However, my problem spot between my shoulder blades was even more of a problem this time. In fact, the first time he tried to adjust it, I cried out in pain as he applied pressure. It never popped, and instead I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I’ve never had that happen to me before – no matter how jacked up my back has been, it’s always been adjustable.
I relaxed a bit then asked him to try again, but I was still too tense and couldn’t relax enough for him to pop it open. He tried one more time while I was in a standing position (okay, this is starting to sound a little naughty), and when that still didn’t work he gave up. He had me lie on my stomach while he massaged my back with a tool that looked like a power drill but sounded like an egg beater. After that I didn’t want to move I felt so relaxed.
So today my neck feels better, but back still feels tight. Anyone up for giving me a massage?
The other night I was sorting digital photos on our computer and I came across a bunch of “skinny” pictures of myself. Only, the Me I was jealous of was eight months pregnant with Ruthie. Isn’t that crazy? That I would give anything to look as good as when I was pregnant?
After Ruthie was born I lost all but ten pounds of my pregnancy weight. But after Thomas? I lost nothing. I gained forty pounds and didn’t lose anything. Not one. And I nursed, so don’t tell me nursing does wonders for losing pregnancy weight.
It was difficult to look at those pictures knowing that, at the time, I was unhappy with my body. Just before I got pregnant with Ruthie I was losing weight – about ten pounds before I had to stop dieting (due to pregnant puking and the urge to eat only oatmeal, peanut butter, tomato soup, and nachos).
I want to be content and not wish to be something else. Yet, I also want to feel good about myself, be active, and have energy. And sadly, the way I feel and look about myself now makes me not want to get pregnant again, and we had always been open to having lots of children.
I’ve been taking steps to lose weight. Not just for vanity’s sake – though I definitely want to look better – but also because I want to be healthy again. I’m taking vitamins, exercising, and trying to get more sleep. I hope weaning off the Zoloft will also speed things up for me. But mostly, I need discipline. I’ve developed bad habits of snacking lots and eating late at night.
This post is mostly about lamenting. But also, I want to remember this. I want to be reminded and stay motivated. I want to see these pictures pop up every now and then as I surf through old posts.
Ruthie’s friend, Indi, is over today while his parents paint walls and refinish floors at their new house. We have our own project going on today, and figured a friend would help distract Ruthie away from needing us as much. This plan has executed fairly smoothly, except for the shouting match over whether Mufasa was really hurt in the stampede.
“No! He’s NOT sad!
“NO! He’s NOT sad!
“NO, HE’S NOT SAD!”
And so on.
You might have guessed, but Ruthie was the one in touch with Mufasa’s true state of mind at the time of his death.
Indi and Ruthie are only three days apart. There are times we think they will one day be married, and there are times we think they’ll never speak to each other again.
At one point when I checked on them watching a movie, I couldn’t see Ruthie anywhere. As I came around the corner I found that she was hidden by Indi as they snuggled together on the couch. Their love for each other waxes and wanes by the minute.
This is our dog, Scout. Each morning when the kids begin to stir and their voices come through the monitor in my kitchen, Scout perks up and scratches at the door leading upstairs to the bedrooms. When I take a shower, she meanders into the bathroom to lay on the bath mat. When I sit down to read a book or work on the computer, she gets up from her slumber to come lay at my feet. How can you not love loyalty like that?
Last night Bryan and I did some creative exploration (okay, that sounded bad). Over the weekend he took short videos of the kids on our digital camera and I wanted to find a way to post it directly into my website. He discovered YouTube, which is a video sharing site similar to Flickr, and voila! This is what happened!
Fun, huh? You’ll have to let me know if it’s a pain in the neck to download on your end.
Last night we also gave Ruthie the camera to shoot her own pictures, which I’ll try to post later today. She ran around the play room in the basement shooting all her favorite things, declaring, “This is my bear. This is my doll. This is my Scout.” Pretty cute. She had a major melt down when we finally took it away from her.
When I make an unexpected emergency trip to the doctor for a baby who sounds like he is on his last legs that lasts three hours including commuting time during rush hour, and Bryan says to me when we get home, “Would you like me to pick up some Chinese food for dinner?”
God bless men who Get It.
My brother owns a sporting goods store in Valencia, CA. I still enjoy walking in there on my visits and seeing his handwriting all over the store. He has such cute handwriting!
I just finished addressing all my Christmas cards. This year I went low maintenance and BOUGHT cards, rather than made them. Life is too short to be Martha Stewart.
It was sad coming to mom’s card, after having addressed envelopes to The Smith Family, or Mr. & Mrs. Smith. I didn’t know how to address hers. It just seemed foreign to say ‘Marge Pearson’ on the envelope of her Christmas card, yet ‘Pearson Family’ sounded awkward, as did ‘The Pearsons.’ Maybe I should have written ‘Mrs. Gordon Pearson.’
I don’t know.
Seems like any which way I write it he’s still not REALLY on the envelope.