Do you think when the doctor advised me to "be down as much as possible," he meant abstaining from activities like yard work? Are pulling weeds and planting shrubs considered to be being up activities? Because I was totally sitting down as I worked in the yard over the last two days but I am having a wee bit of pain. You know, throbbing, aching, hurts to put any pressure on your entire leg for fear your hip and pelvis will break open into a million pieces pain? And swelling? Down there? Is that normal?
I'm just wondering.
To salvage my aching body, I set up the girls to watch a movie and the boys to play a little XBOX (Spence has a friend over for a sleepover) and drew myself a nice, hot bath. Nightly baths are part of my daily life now as they really help to ease the soreness that has crept in throughout the day and this one promised to be perfect. Perfect water temperature? Check. Bubbles aplenty thanks to the new bottle of bubble bath graciously gifted to me for my birthday? Check. Book I'm completely engrossed in? Check. Sienna vomiting into the bath water as I soaked in it? Check.
I mean, come on.
As I'm turning the page of the lovely Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, Sienna walks in with THE LOOK. THE LOOK that says I'm about to vomit. With force. THE LOOK that says stop whatever you're doing and kindly catch my puke with your bare hands. THE LOOK that I see all too frequently in my life. As I try to turn her towards the toilet, she heaves forward and well, heaves forward. Into my bath. All over my monster belly which is too large to be covered by the bubbles. But whatever.
Realizing that she would never make it to the toilet, I threw my book down on the side of the tub and grabbed the nearest towel to catch her dinner in. And her lunch. And apparently her breakfast. And maybe even last night's bedtime snack. So now I am literally holding a towel full of puke while trying to heave my giganto body out of the tub without dropping said towel. Or fall on the floor since I'm soaking wet. Or faint dead away at the sight of my naked body running towards the toilet.
After cleaning up Sienna, myself, and the towel from hell, I put her in bed and calm myself with the thought that although I won't get to enjoy my book in the bath, I can still put everyone to bed and curl up for a night of reading. That is, until I head back into the bathroom to find my book floating in the bath water, drenched to the hilt, amongst the bubbles and chunks of Cheeto remains.
I'm very sad. And very sore. And very much in need of a nice, hot, bubble bath.