Spine

I sleep in a hammock, on my stomach. It hurts as much as it sounds.




Now, this is not on purpose.




You see, I used to sleep in a bed, and it was a bed until my children decided it was an indoor trampoline, and pounded the poor pillow-toppy-springy-ness out of it, making it sag in the middle.

So, every night, I lie in bed, and I remind myself to not sleep on my stomach, because what happens when I do is my back feels like I just slapped it with a wooden spoon all night long. My brain turns off, though, after I fall asleep and I somehow end up on my stomach with my face in a puddle of drool...because everybody drools when they sleep on their stomachs. They do. And if they say they don't, they are lying.




I don't know if it's because I started having sciatica after I had my kids, or what, but it is seriously annoying. I hate feeling like my eternally young spirit resides in an 80-year-old body.




I'm assuming that an 80-year-old body feels like that, though...it may not be true. I should ask Gigi.




Maybe an 80-year-old body feels more like jello. I think I would like that.




Cherry flavored jello.




With those canned fruity bits.




As it is, I can't actually bend over to pick anything up. I have to stand completely straight, swing one leg straight back to balance my body (like I am a giant T), and reach my arm down (turning me into an F) to grab Eden's pajamas and lift her up that way. She thinks it's super fun. She doesn't know she has a broken mama.




Luckily for me, the universe invented yoga just for me, and, if I am diligent, I have little back pain.

Unfortunately for me, I spent the entirety of November on my bottom writing my stupid novel, and now my body is paying for it.




Looks like I have to get up and do something about my brokenness now.

Woo hoo.