Ouch

In an effort to counteract the time-change blues (and the evening frustrations of squirrelly kids who haven't spent enough time outside), I took the three younger boys to the playground today. "Let's play structure tag!" said Joe. I was a little reluctant but I agreed. I said, "Remember, I'm big and pregnant and I haven't taken my heart medicine today, so I won't be able to run very fast." We played for a bit --  I tagged him and he tagged me -- and then I guess he got warmed up. He ran off and I honestly couldn't catch him. How humbling is that, not to be able to tag a 6-year-old?

In structure tag you have to stay on the playground equipment, so there's a little bit of strategy involved. That's part of why I couldn't catch him, because it's easy to get yourself stuck in a corner as a first-time participant. But part of it is that I'm just not moving very fast, which makes me feel old and huge.

Oh, I almost forgot about a blog post that I dreamed this morning! When my husband was in the Navy and crossed the equator for the first time, there was this huge initiation ceremony in which the wogs (first-timers) became shellbacks (southern hemisphere veterans). The details are secret, but apparently cross-dressing was involved, and vats of shaving cream, and nail polish. Anyway, I was trying to get comfortable in my sleep and dream-thought, "This is my crossing the line day: I am officially a shellback -- stuck like a turtle if I get turned onto my back." At least nobody sprayed me with shaving cream in welcome.

After my attempt at a sprint I noticed that my symphysis pain was bothering me. Then it wasn't just bothering me, it was intolerable. I said, "Boys, I'm sorry but we're going to have to go home." I limped into the house and hit it with Tylenol and ice, but neither one really made a dent in the pain. I am still shuffling around like an arthritic old lady. The one position that seems to help with walking is if I arch my back and put my hands on my backside, which makes me look like an arthritic former dance contest hopeful who is unfortunately stuck in the limbo position.

My midwife suggested a snug band of fabric or a belt to compress the joint from outside, explaining that it's not unusual for someone with an "expert body" (read: OLD and DECREPIT) to have more symphysis pain. It helps some, but I am still hurting. And feeling clumsy. Sniffle.

Comments

[Lilian]

I'm so sorry, my friend. I hope you do feel better soon.

[Jody]

Hey, my brother celebrated that crossing, too -- and he won't tell us anything about it, either.

(Alas that my grandmother died before I was born -- she was an Army Nurse in WWII, crossed the equator on a naval ship on her way to Guam, and has the certificate to prove it....)

[Salome Ellen]

Oh, I love the "expert body" thing! I wish I'd had that phrase available 16 years ago.

[Summer]

Don't fret too much about not being able to score that tag. I have an almost-six-year-old boy, and even though his legs are short, he is FAST. I'm not sure I could catch him if he didn't want to be caught, and my body is very not-pregnant.