Bad Things That Happened on a Good Day

After dinner yesterday we went to the green park a block away in hopes of burning off any extra energy and obtaining our ultimate goal of experiencing an easy bedtime times four.  Fresh air will do that.

I was talking to a mom friend, she who also has four, and as we were talking about our summer and the pains of never getting a full night's rest I went to brush some stray hairs behind my ear.  As I did I felt something in my hair.  It was crusty.  Like something got stuck in there and dried up.  What is that?  As I was still carrying on a conversation with my mom friend my mind was going through the litany of sticky things I may have come into contact with that day.

I just took a shower at 2:30 so it can't be anything from breakfast or lunch.  Gum? Honey?  Did one of the kids get into something and then grab my hair?  I need to stop combing my fingers through my hair.  This lady is going to think I'm some sort of narcissist, or worse, a valley girl.  Like. Um. Totally.

I moved on and forgot about my hair.  The eight o'clock hour was approaching so Brian and I rounded up our tribe and headed home.  On our way I recounted to Brian that he needs to remain the grill master of the house.

"Seriously," I said, "I almost started the house on fire.  I know I did it right but the ignite button would not work.  I kept pushing it and then all of the sudden -- WHOOM...wait..."

I felt my hair again.

"OH MY GOD!"

"What?"

"There was something in my hair!  But it's not something.  Brian! I BURNED MY HAIR!"

He looked at my hair.  And then he laughed.  And laughed.  And laughed some more.  And then he cried.  Because he was laughing so hard.

Me no touchy the grill again.

I think it will be OK.  I flat ironed the affected region and I don't think it's noticeable.  I mean, it's not like this or anything.

In other bad news on a relatively good day, our sitter accidentally woke Katherine out of a dead sleep nap when she thought she heard her talking.  It was early in the nap too.  Bummer.  Of course she wouldn't go back down and of course she was a train wreck the rest of the day.

When we got home from our park adventure Lucy peed her pants in the driveway.  She told us about fifteen minutes prior that she had to go so it wasn't really her fault.  She bent over to give her bike a good push into the garage and that was all it took.  "OOH!" she screamed and then "Ahh" she sighed and just let it flow.  "Went potty in my pants," she proclaimed matter-of-factly.  She then proceeded to strip down right there for all of St. Paul to see and march her soiled clothes into the house and down into the laundry room.  Girl knows how to take care of things.  And let's be honest here.  Don't you wish you had a little bit of her "who cares" attitude?

I think I have a stress fracture in my ankle.  I first noticed the pain three weeks ago when I ran my 5K.  I ignored it because I'm a mom to four children and running has become my little sanity escape.  It didn't hurt while I was running which made it easy to run but also turns out to be a classic symptom of a stress fracture.  Finally last night I looked at it.  I know it sounds ridiculous that I never actually took the time to look at my ankle that had been hurting for three weeks but it's also ridiculous that I don't eat lunch until 2:30 each day.  It's where I'm at, folks.  So anyway I looked down and couldn't believe what I saw.  Just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating, I showed Brian and he actually used an expletive upon first glimpse.  It was the size of a house.

Brian told me I need to stop running and see a doctor.  But just to confirm I had to ask my mom too.  My mom's opinion is noteworthy not only because she's been a runner for 30+ years but also because she would never ever ever take us to the doctor when we were little unless we were (a) dying or (b), nope, there is no (b).  We just had to be dying.  My brother once walked on a broken leg for three days before he was X-rayed.  She wasn't a bad mom.  She was just practical.  And whatever the opposite of a hypochondriac is.

So anyway, Mom says I need to go to the doc too.  Damn.  Who has the time?!  And also what if I have to stop running for a really long time?  Can't I just ignore it and see how long I can coast?  Maybe I just need to invest in a really good bike.  Because the only reason I had a good day full of bad things is because I ran that morning.  Something must be done.