So, I spent a good portion of yesterday crying. That is a bad look for me. I
admire people who can pull off 'dewy and tender' when they cry. I do a very good
'pathetic and blotchy.' So, yeah. Swollen red nose, puffy eyes, blotchy skin...
NICE. For the last week or so, I've had what apparently is a ganglion on my
wrist, and I've been just wishing it away. My mom informed me that this is what
the old timers called a Bible Bump. Huh? "You know, a Bible Bump. When you got
one, the doctor would have you lay your hand on a flat surface and they would
whack it with the Bible," asserts my mom. "Isn't that a job for the preacher?" I
wondered. The advice nurse tells me to rest it as much as possible (hah!) and to
ice/heat it and take advil. Great. I can do the pills. I am not sure how I can
rest it. I'm a slave to the blog, you know. So, here I am, bumpy wrist, blotchy,
tear streaked face, playing in the yard with the kids. My youngest makes a break
for the ladder to our play tower. She's great at getting up the ladder, but has
no common sense about staying away from the edge. In fact, she seems to be on a
mission to see just how far she can go to the edge of the platform before she
plummets to the ground below. This is the same child who loves to stand atop the
slide and throw herself into a face first belly slide, squealing with joy as she
collects grassy skidmarks down her front. Wahoo! I decide that I don't want to
play chicken with the baby tonight, and accelerate towards the ladder. Halfway
to the ladder, I stepped in a hole in the grass and twisted my ankle abruptly.
My vision immediately went black and I felt the urge to vomit. I shook my head,
stumbled the last few steps, intercepted the now howling with indignation child,
and hobbled towards the house, wondering what I had just done to myself. With a
huge thank you to TiVo, I clicked on a Dora, headed for the kitchen, downed a
few advil and then took a look at my ankle. Nothing. Little swelling, that's it.
Best I can figure, I must have sparked a pressure point when I twisted it, which
caused the weird blackout/nausea. Then I proceeded to break a bowl, spill a bag
of crackers and drop-kick a juice box while I was packing lunches. There must be
some sort of Chaos Moon or something. After the hubs got home, and I was
recounting my adventures with self-flagellation to him, he turned to our big
Kindergarten girl and said "I better teach you how to call me at work if Mommy
cold-cocks herself." Again, NICE.