Only a woman could understand

Sometimes our guts aren’t honest with us. Just because you suddenly get an ‘urge’ doesn’t necessarily mean we should do it. My gut just flat out fibbed to me and is cackling at me in the corner right now, snorting and all. Yeah, thanks so much there, gut, my trusted friend! Let me backtrack. Flylady is a religion to me, and reading her ‘surprise one minute mission’ just now, instructing us to take one minute out to do something just for us, it suddenly hit me right that second that my back ached because I hadn’t taken anything for it. So I got up, filled my water glass, and walked over to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen. We keep ours in the kitchen, right by the fridge, so this way, while we’re there getting something to drink, we might think about medicine we have to take, and WA-LA its there. Only this morning, I completely forgot, obviously. I digress, I reached up for my pills, opened the childproof cap, went to shake out a couple and I must’ve blanked or something, but there went the entire bottle. Spilled. All over the floor. Spread out like confetti. And I have a newly 11 month old who will want to eat these. Or my 3 1/2 year old who will also want to eat these. So I bend over, squatting, then deciding to kneel, bent over like a hunchback picking each pill up one by one. Mind you, the pills I’m taking are FOR my aching back, so said position isn’t helping. And I’m wearing a Victoria’s Secret bra that I probably shouldn’t be wearing, that I picked out for family pictures this weekend, while I’m washing (as we speak) my nursing bras. So because Victoria’s Secret bras have that ‘lift’ to them, and my poor breasts are merely milk-filled skin pancakes after my children, my boobs pop out. Wrestling to get these puppies in, I wrench my back. As if I needed it to hurt more. I finally get every last wayward pill into the container, take an extra one for good measure, secure the top, put it in the cabinet, and sit back down, wondering why I even bothered when getting up to take these just made it *that* much worse.

Yeah, “one minute mission”- do something for me. Maybe next time, that one minute something will be doing nothing at all. In bubble wrap. Or traction. With that neck collar-y thing. And a pain-killer IV with a side of coffee. Or something.