I've never been what you might call...graceful. And thanks to a rather annoying condition, I sound like a pack of castenettes when I move. So you can imagine my discomfort while I was pregnant with the twins. When you're roughly the size of a planet, spinal alignment becomes a thing of the past. We discovered that after the girls, well...the back didn't come back in (neither did a lot of things, but that's a different post.).

Before, I slouched.

Now I better resemble the letter F. A very lazy letter F. More like an "f".

So, anyhow, the girls are 10 months today and for the last month, I've been fighting off back spasms. Like, the shock-you-like-lightening-you-can't-breathe kind of spasms. So I ask my sister, can you pop my back? (Don't worry, we do this all the time.) She says sure and with little to no effort, 8 of my vertebra crack back into place and wouldn't you know it, I could breathe again. Yay to the power of chiropractory.

Allow me to describe what happened to me after the back popping.

1) I pivoted on my carpet and for no visible reason, smashed my big toe so hard I tore off the upper corner of the nail.

2) Got out of the car at the mall later (had to take in my computer for a quick test) and damn near cracked my wrist bumping into the car and shanking it on the wheel well of the jeep.

3) Sliced my finger on a melamine corner of a bookcase running wires from the stereo.

4) Almost choked my baby when I tried to help her clear a woodchip the little termite seems to have found in the cuff of her brother's jeans. (Its the only explanation for how it got in the house. We still aren't sure if we got it all out.)

5) Went half deaf listening to wails the likes of which still have my ears ringing three hours later.

6) Brought the lovelies upstairs to give them baths and found an old staple that had all but melted into my carpet...with my foot.

7) Slipped in the shower stall and knocked into the wall while juggling said lovelie.

Am now sitting carefully crosslegged, listening to baby breathing and slouching in desperation to return to my f like shape. My sister remarked that perhaps I was just better off being crooked because clearly, I don't know how to handle being straight. Let me just add, being an f is a lot better than just using f words all day.

Still, for all that mayhem, I got to write today. It wasn't much, but here's the kicker, it was smooth, GOOD writing. The so-smooth-you-wish-you-was-me kind of writing. For five or ten minutes, I was the happiest woman alive. And tonight, when the baby stopped choking and crying and her face lost that blotchy, I-hate-you look...well, I realized that just because it wasn't my day for 23 hours and 45 minutes, sometimes, it's your day when it matters most.

Here's wishing all of you a fabulous 15 minutes to your day.
Dee