A funny thing happened at the roller rink

I broke my damn arm!!!  How's that for a story?

It seems that rollerskating with your children, while earning you cool points with your kids, can be hazardous to your bones.

It’s interesting the range of emotions you feel when you break something. The still-hiding-inside little girl thinks it’s kind of cool and starts wondering what color of a cast you may pick out. The damsel in distress thinks how great it will be to have your husband care for your every whim while you are laid up unable to do anything for yourself. The practical mom screams out loud “How in the hell am I going to get anything done?”

Then your doctor mentions the possibility of surgery, and the chicken shit in all of us loses her lunch. Figuratively of course, not literally.

I was lucky; I didn’t need surgery on my fractured radius. In fact, much to the little girls chagrin I didn’t even get a bright purple cast. I was instructed to start moving it as soon as possible, do a few simple movement exercises every day and start physical therapy after my vacation. Yippy.

In the meantime I have to remind the practical mom that it’s broken because when instincts and reflexes take over you tend to you use your arm. Your dominant arm. In my case my right arm. And it hurts when you use it let me tell you.

So we’re off to Drummond Island for our annual vacation in the Upper Peninsula, broken radius be damned. Of course “curling” is very therapeutic. As in, curling-your-arm-to-bring-that drink-to-your-mouth, which is a very treasured activity on this vacation. We shall see how much flexibility it can restore.

Starbucks Double Shot at 8 o'clock

Equals Bad Idea.

I have literally been up all night.  I watched five- yes, one, two, three, four, fiiiiivvvveeeeeee, episodes of 16 and Pregnant on Mtv.  I showered, because I didn't yesterday and maybe that's the trick, and yet- here I am.  Blogging at 6:26 a.m.

I can't even tell you the last time I was awake at this hour, at either end of a stretch of sleep.  It's been awhile.  The sad part is that I'm not really sure what to do now.  Do I stay up all day?  Maybe make a run to Starbucks while the one kid who's home is still asleep?  Or do I go lay down?  And risk a deep, unending sleep?  With a six-year-old who has watched enough TV this summer vacation?

Hmmm, tough decisions.  Right now I just have that sicky feeling I used to get when I worked the night shift at Meijer.  The feeling where the only thing that kept you pricing the Ortho products for the ad was the idea that very soon you could crawl into your own bed and sleep.  But that was before kids.  A Saturday with kids.  A Saturday with a husband who has to work today.  Oh and did I mention that I am smart enough to know that if I sleep too long I will be in the same boat this time tomorrow, typing along to her messed up internal clock?

Being a grown up is hard.  But I also don't envy those girls I spent five hours watching either.  If my baby cries it will be because her crazy Mama won't get out of bed because she stayed up all night.  Any my baby knows how to operate the remote.

Am I... Nesting?

What. The. Hell.  I mean... Hell?

I have cleaned more in the last few weeks than I have in the last few years, or so it seems.  Purge, purge, purge, I'm in the mood to de-clutter.  It's amazing what I can collect, and how it stresses me out.  But it also reminds me of nesting.  You know, when you're pregnant and suddenly feel that EVERYTHING MUST BE IN ORDER OR I WILL NEVER REST AGAIN.

For example, did you know that I am much more apt to scrapbook if I have less scrapbook paraphernalia all around?  Less tools and supplies means I'm not so overwhelmed and can actually picture myself scrapping the pictures I have printed before I migrate over to digital.  Whew, it feels good.

Plus my kids are older and oddly, they seem to have less stuff.  As a result of having less stuff, I get more work done because I am not surrounded by stuff.  I hate stuff.

As a book reviewer, a dream job I might add, I am surrounded by books, but even that can stress me out if they are not in some kind of order.

All of this nesting, cleaning, purging, sorting, etc. has kept me from blogging!  See how I work?  Craaa-zzzyyyy.