Mandyland MIA

Yup, it’s been awhile…

I’ve had a million different posts I wanted to write. Stories, developments, observations and random ramblings I wanted to share, but there has been just one problem…

Being a Working Mom is HARD!!! No really… whoever decided the modern woman could have it all, and survive smiling, calm and alert is FULL OF IT!

But, since many of you are all too aware of this fact, I’m going to skip the rant with requisite pity party and instead say,

“Hi! I missed you!”

Like good friends who haven’t seen each other in years, but can still just jump in as if no time has passed, let’s launch into a recent Mandyland adventure…

It happened in May and began as any typical day in Mandyland does these days. Awake at 6am, I stagger blearily into the bathroom to start getting ready for another day as mom, employee and wife (sadly usually in that order… sorry hubby!) As I make myself presentable for the day ahead, I also wrangle Miss M., who like her Mommy, is slightly cranky when woken from her beauty sleep before Her Highness is ready.

On this day as I juggled flattening iron and sippy cup, I absently rubbed at my lower back. I have been plagued with on-again, off-again back pain for what seems like an eternity. As long as I make the effort to work out and stay fit, it’s usually okay, but along with my neglect of this blog, I had also been ignoring the gym, and so my back was complaining. Trying to quiet the complaints I had been taking various relaxers and pain killers, but unfortunately the dull ache persisted.

Fast forward through dropping the Munchkin at the sitter and horrible Portland rush hour, I finally arrived at the office. Stepping off the elevator, I walked the 5 steps to the office door and as I do every morning, bent to retrieve the morning paper.

And, cue the gremlins, hobgoblins, devils or whatever evil force takes it upon itself to totally ruin your day.

As I straightened, with the 2 ounce paper in hand, there was a jarring in my back that left me breathless.

My first thought after “Holy Mother of God that HURT!” was,

“Uh oh…”

Given my past experiences, I had a pretty accurate idea of where my day was heading, and none of it was going to be good.

Trying for optimism, I embraced the “walking it off” mentality. Channeling my inner super model I attempted a sure and confident stride, only to be greeted with a pinching, grinding, scream worthy pain that left me reaching for my desk to steady myself. It hurt to walk, sit, stand and I felt certain if I lied down, I’d surely turn to dust before I would ever get up under my own power. It was official, my back muscles had gone on strike.

Sitting at my desk, my upper body bent forward at a 45 degree angle, I contemplated my options.

Option #1: Finish the remaining 7.5 hours of my day without moving from my 45 degree position.

Option #2: Admit defeat, and head to Urgent Care.

Although Option #1 was appealing in that I could stay completely still and thereby avoid the wrenching pain, it was nowhere near realistic, and so with a grunt of defeat, I levered myself into a standing position, notified my boss and began my shuffle across the street to my car.

LONGEST DRIVE OF MY LIFE!!

Everything hurt! It hurt to work the pedals. It hurt to signal. It hurt to steer. It was by pure luck alone that I managed to arrive at the Urgent Care clinic without damaging my vehicle, another vehicle or further damaging myself.

With a tiny scream I parked, and ever so carefully exited my car to begin the trek into the clinic. Head down, arms bent, feet shuffling… I looked like Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. I wanted to scream in frustration!

After a surprisingly quick wait (thanks to the powers that be!) I had a diagnosis. I’d sprained my lower back muscles.

Hard to believe the lightweight Tuesday edition of the local paper had caused such havoc… but there you are… ain’t life grand.

After an excruciating stop at the local drugstore to get my happy drugs… steroids to speed healing, muscle relaxers and vicodin for the pain. I was home and now I had a REALLY serious problem.

I had to pee… NOW!

Shuffling as quickly as I could into the bathroom, I began to undo my pants only to discovery another problem. Like many a modern woman, I employ certain not to be trifled with undergarments to help appear slim and put-together in my work attire. Well, as those of you who also rely on these ironclad panties know, it’s not an easy operation to get the suckers on and off!

Through sheer desperation and with teeth clenched I made it onto the toilet just in time. Whimpering, as I relieved myself, my mind raced as I was presented with a new facet to my predicament.

There was absolutely ZERO chance I was going to be able to bend over and pull my bottoms back up!

So it was, bottomless, trying to hold onto the little bit of dignity I had left, that I shuffled into the kitchen, haltingly made a sandwich and slowly made it over to the couch where I was sure my salvation awaited. I had a heating pad, drugs and remote waiting. I knew with a little drugs and heat, I’d be right as rain in no time.

WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! Oh how wrong I was.

It wasn’t long after getting settled in the corner of the couch with heating pad behind me and a blanket draped over my bare lower half that I realized my miscalculation. As I tried to shift and readjust to find a comfortable position that didn’t make me want to die, I realized I couldn’t get up…. THE COUCH WAS TOO SOFT!

I couldn't get any traction. I was STUCK!!!

Focusing on tackling one problem at a time, I ate my sandwich, drank my water, took my drugs and rested against the heating pad. After about an hour, with the doctor’s last instructions echoing in my head, “Be sure to get up and move around or your muscles will lock up”, I knew I needed to try get off the couch.

Umm, so, here’s what happened...

I attempted to just sit up… Result: Girlie scream.

I attempted to roll to my side, so I could push myself to sitting… Result: LOUD girlie scream.

Then…

I thought, “Well, if I can just get my upper body unto the ottoman I could use my arms to push myself to standing.”

So I rolled off the couch and maneuvered my upper body onto the ottoman. With head, shoulders and chest supported by the ottoman, I bent my arms and attempted to push.

Result: I was stuck, kneeling in front of my ottoman, face smushed into the beige microfiber material, arms dangling uselessly at my sides, crying like a little girl, with my bare white ass shining like a beacon of hopelessness, for the world to see.

Thank goodness my curtains were closed.

After 20 minutes, and several attempts to contact the hubby, I somehow managed to get back on to the couch. The modesty blanket was underneath me, the remote control was at the end of the couch by my feet, and I had to pee again, but at least I was lying flat on my back, instead of with bare ass in the air.

Things get a little blurry after this as the vicodin was finally kicking in, but I remember talking to Jessica on my cell and trying not laugh as the full hilarity of the situation hit me… laughing hurt!

I remember my hubby calling and being very distressed when he found out he’d missed my calls for help.

I remember starring at the ceiling and finally starting to drift into blissful sleep.

I awoke when the hubs and Miss M. arrived home. Mr. Man took in my half-naked state and quirked his eyebrow. I told him not to make me laugh…

Then, trailing behind my hubby, my sweet little girl came up to my side…

“Mama, you got an owie?”

“Yes, baby girl, Mama has an owie.”

“Where? Can I see?”

“No baby girl, you can’t see Mama’s owie. It’s inside”

Then, with a wise nod, my caring little one walked across the living room to her toys. She retrieved her brand new Toy Story stuffed pig, and brought it over to me. Placing it on my chest, she leaned over and gave me a kiss.

“There Mama, all better?”

With a smile and tear in my eye, all I could say was,

“Yes, baby girl, that made Mama feel much better. Thank you!”

Reminded to see the silver lining,
Mandy:)