There are several occasions in life which force a woman to confront the inevitable and apparent fact that—despite what her inner 19-year-old brain and sometimes fashion sense is telling her—she is undeniably, objectively, and painfully.. a grown up.
These events can include—but are not limited to—childbirth; the purchasing of one’s first home; and regular, weekly trips to the grocery store. (Tell me you haven’t had an existential crisis in while squeezing avocados in the produce department…)
And now I can confidently add to the list of Things That Prove I’m a Grownup–The First Backache.
If I may elaborate, it is more a “Holy Cow That’s a Searing Pain When I Move like That… No, Not That but THAT. HOLY CRAP THAT” kind of pain, than an actual ache, per se.
In addition to the actual back injury is the fact that I have no idea how I sustained it. The running theory is that I slept on it kind of strangely, which—when I say that out loud—dear Lord, makes me sound even older.
And complicating my malady further is the fact that I continue to have a Stage-5 Clinger-level baby. Barnacle Baby has not, in fact, grown out of her love of being constantly held and snuggled and basically chewed on by me (what can I say, I enjoy a good baby-cheek-munching)—which I actually quite love, except for the fact that I have a feeling that having a little human attached to my hip is going to slow my recovery just a bit.
So here I sit, anxiously awaiting my ability to participate fully in my own life again. Until then, the house will stay a little messier than normal and we may be a tad bit later to things than normal.
…Oh, who am I kidding, things are just as they normally are.
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Sonni Abatta is an Orlando lifestyle and mom blogger. Reach out to chat or collaborate by clicking here!