Incredible Bruise

**This post was written while under the influence of painkillers.  It took over two days to complete.**

This (yesterday) morning, in an act that can be heralded as nothing short of motherly heroism, I broke my phone.  To be more specific, I slipped on our ice-covered front porch stairs and landed on my butt on our driveway.  Why didn't I catch myself, you ask?  That's where I got heroic.  Because I was carrying Gracie. 

After a quick mental check to see if I could still feel my feet (barely), I was fairly certain I'd broken my hip and that, most likely, I was bleeding from my right (butt) cheek.  Immediately, I started screaming for Sloan to come get the chubbster. Sloan, being the rocket scientist that he is, came outside, saw me crying on the pavement with Gracie screaming in my arms and said, "What happened?" 

I cannot report what I said to him.  But if you live in my zip code, you probably heard me screaming some choice words.  While holding my daughter.  Awesome.  Did I mention that this hollering happened because I was worried about being late to my Bible Study?

Gracie was scared, partly because of the fall, partly because she hated her 6 puffed ponytail hairdo, but mostly because her Mommy was screaming obscenities at her daft father who wasn't sure how to help her invalid Mom.

Then, once Sloan had gotten with the program and basically taken care of everything,  I went to check to see what time it was on my phone.  Which had been in my back pocket during the great fall of 2011.  Busted.  Completely.  Broken glass shattered.

I still managed to make it to Bible Study on time (thanks to my wonderful husband), but by the time I had crossed the river, it became apparent to me that I actually had done damage to more than just the Droid.  There was a phone sized bruise developing on my bum, my hips were throbbing, and I could feel the pain climbing up my vertebrae.  I knew it was going to be a long day as Gracie continued to scream in her car seat.  She hates her car seat.  This is usually curbed by me handing her toys throughout the ride.  But I physically could not turn my neck to help her.  Henry handed her a Kazoo.  Which, it turns out, was the perfect toy.  Kazoo beats screaming any day of the week.

While at Bible Study, a buddy gave me some Motrin.  It didn't touch it.  I was limping and fighting the tears by the time we rolled home after lunch.  Thankfully, Sloan was in town and so was available for to watch the kids while I went to the Doctor. 

The doctor, while rubbing my bum said, "Hmmm. There's definitely some deep tissue damage here in the shape of a .....hmmmm....cell phone?  That's going to be black and blue by tomorrow."  Yep, it is.  He prescribed me some hydrocodone and a muscle relaxer.  Good times. 

After the doctors, I went to have my prescriptions filled.  While at the grocery store, I realized just how addicted I am to my cell phone, texting, facebook, and just 21st century technology in general.  It felt strange to go from one place to another without calling Sloan with an update.  Is this how marriage used to be?  You just trusted your spouse to go from one place to another?  Husbands were able to work entire days without getting word-for-word play-by-plays of their wives' every conversation and movements?  Well, that just sounds horrible.  (Sloan would probably say it sounds horribly productive.)

So while I'm waiting for my drugs, I set up shop with my Ipad in the makeshift tailgating living room they have set up for the Superbowl.  Reclined in a leather chair, feet propped up on a coffee table made of a palette's worth of Budlight.  How happy was I to discover that Kroger has Wifi.  So I began to email Sloan my status update.  (And check facebook, of course.)  Let me say that emailing back and forth is much less satisfying than texting.  Too slow.  And way to difficult to discern sarcasm. 

Sloan asked me if I was home yet.  Which of course freaked me out, because if he didn't know I wasn't home, where the heck was he? 

He and Henry were "working" in his office on the third floor. 

But then Sloan emailed me to hurry home and make him dinner.  I didn't pick up on the joke, and quickly emailed him back a short two worded email.  Which then, of course, elicited a "don't come home til you change your attitude" email.  Awesome. 

But then I thought, "Heck, what are we having for dinner?"  Soooo....

Minutes later, with two pill bottles clanking in my pocket, I was belly up at the Bar next to the grocery store waiting on 3 dozen Chili Garlic wings and an order of fried pickles.  And when I say bar, I don't mean this is a restaurant with a bar.  The Sportspage Bar and Grill is known for their awesome wings but it is a BAR.  As in, it has been illegal to smoke in bars and restaurants in VA for over a year and this place still smells smoky.  But at least it had WiFi. 

So of course I had to have a frosty mug of beer while I waited.  I chugged it, having forgotten how yummy that frosted mug can make draft beer taste.  The waitress asked, "Wow.  Do you want another?" 

"No thanks, " I said.  After all, that Vicodin in my pocket wasn't going to take itself...

Once home, Sloan was wonderful.  He served up the meal, bathed the kids, and was even careful to be gentle with Gracie's hair while scrubbing.  (I'm pretty particular about her hair care if you haven't noticed.) After putting the kids to bed, he even went to fuel up my car and get a movie for us from RedBox.  Let me just say that Get Him to the Greek is even funnier on Vicodin and Muscle Relaxers.  At least the parts I was able to stay awake for.

Today has been worse.  My ribs ache.  When the painkillers wear off, it hurts to breathe. And the painkiller by itself doesn't completely knock out the pain.  Just sort of dulls it.   Sloan has had to go out of town, so my help is gone.  And despite the fact that it is sunny, beautiful, and close to 70 degrees outside, we are inside watching our third Thomas video (because us seeing the Thomas stage show this morning was not enough, apparently).  I thought about letting Henry go out in the back yard by himself, but it is muddy and he'd get all gross in the sandbox and would need a bath.  And I just can't do that.  I can't take both the muscle relaxer and the Vicodin together without being high as a kite and I don't want to be high while the kids are awake.  The Vicodin by itself just sort of slows me down.  Makes me dumb.  I searched for twenty minutes for my laptop.  My laptop that was on our kitchen island.  I kept getting distracted by the Oreos in the pantry.  

All I can say is that I'm declaring tomorrow a jammy day.  And tonight, my sweet husband rented me Twilight:Eclipse--which may just prove to be a decent movie all jacked up. If this post is all jacked up, well, just remember it all started with one woman's heroic act to save her child.