Not your average suburban mom. I’m more your typical, normal, commonplace, everyday, garden-variety suburban mom. With a thesaurus.

Friday, November 30, 2012

First World Deluge

I actually felt it tear. *shudder*
When it rains it pours y'all.

"I can't sleep."

"The basement is flooded again."

"The minivan overheated on the highway and dinged a four minute warning bell that was code for 'this vehicle is about to combust' which was honestly like waiting through a bomb countdown right next to the bomb" (a bomb that would eventually cost $250 to defuse).


 "Who knew tearing your calf muscle could be so painful?" (It's not actually torn all the way through.  I don't need surgery (thank God).  But it hurts like nobodies bidness.)

(Also on my rant rain list: Ezra's new therapy is $120 a week, Hosanna's skin is really having a hard time in this weather, our household humidifier needs to get it's stuff together, my gym membership is up at a $350 renewal fee, Ezra needs oral surgery, and why can't I lose these nine pounds?)(Answer: It's totally because I eat too much.)

I am thankful that all my problems lately are just merely inconvenient and not actual problems that keep me up at night (except for the first one).

Happy Fitness Friday!

The torture device from where I blog.
Seeing it is kind of like visiting Shakespeare's home, right?
I didn't post yesterday because it hurt to sit at the computer.   You know, because of my major and serious calf injury. And since I don't have a laptop or any of those other newfangled contraptions you younguns use nowadays I have to sit in a hard-backed chair with no cushion to play work on the computer.  But really it was the throbbing that kept me off the computer and on the couch with my calf elevated all day long. (And not watching Christmas movies, Brian, because I am a homeschooling mother.)(And I for sure didn't have real coke instead of tea for breakfast because that's what you drink at a pity party.)

The calf tear was all my fault.  I was being stupidly awesome yet again.  Wednesday night at the gym is a fairly easy night.  I have Ab Lab (a twenty minute abdominal class for which I will name my next child), upper body strength training, and a three mile tempo run on the treadmill.  Everything was easy peasy until the tempo run.  About halfway through I realized if I pushed it just a bit more I would do a sub-30 5k.  I really wanted that. (Especially since the first fifteen minutes of my run were spent telling myself to make it to fifteen minutes and then I could quit.  Runners, it was that kind of run.) I bumped my speed to 6.3 mph (which is fast for me).  With about five minutes left I saw I would need to bump it up more.  So I did.  And then a little more.  And a tinsy bit more.  I ran the last minute at 8.7 mph. Well, I ran the last 56 seconds at 8.7 mph.  The last four seconds I said, "DUDE!" (in my head, not out loud because I'm a Navy Seal and we don't show pain) while my left leg quit working because I felt something tear.  I slowed the treadmill down to a walkable pace, which? was 1.3 mph.  You know, the speed labeled "Barely Moving."

(For you other Navy Seals out there: I totally did a sub-30 5k.)

The pain was cuh-razy sick.  It felt like the first time you get out of bed after a C-section (which about ten percent of my readership will relate to, so good job being universal, Kelly).  I limped to the wipes and limped back to the treadmill to wipe it down (because I'm still considerate even though I was probably dying).  I limped to the locker room and called Sarah. Since she's in orthopedics, I was pretty sure she was going to tell me we needed to amputate, so I was prepared for the inevitable. Unfortunately she was working so I didn't get to talk with her and have some totally made up doomsday proclamations to tell Brian when I got home kind of realistic diagnosis before I made my way home.  It took close to twenty minutes to walk to my car.  I was obviously limping but trying to play it off like all was well like maybe I was just perfecting a new pimp walk.

At home I got some ice and googled "My leg needs to be amputated".  Or I googled "treating a pulled calf muscle".  I don't remember.  The internet mostly told me what I already suspected: RICE, Aleve, and snickers ice cream.

This is me trying to take a picture of my
own jammies without being able to climb
on the side of the bathtub and take it in
the mirror like any other sane person.
ALSO:  "Hey Kel, is that a snowman
toilet seat cover in your half bath?
You are rockin' some Christmas spirit."

That is why I spent Thursday morning wearing the coziest jammie pants* ever created in the history of jammie pants and chilling on the couch while I snuggled the kiddos and read, like, a ton of stories. And maybe wore my slippers when I drove the car to pick up Happy Meals for lunch because whoever said money couldn't buy happiness never spent $3.49 to become the Best Mom in the Universe.

*Those of you who read Runs for Cookies know the jammies I am talking about because Katie loves them, too.  In fact, when she mentioned the most comfortable pajamas ever, I knew she had to be talking about the Vera Wang pj's from Kohls, and I was totally right.

After lunch I connected with Sarah who told me to take off my slippers and put on real shoes to help out my calf.  She planned to come over after work and examine me in person because she is a good friend and I am spoiled rotten.

I also had this telephone conversation with Brian midday because he is totally sympathetic:

Brian:  How's your leg?

Kelly:  It hurts but I can walk, so whatever.  I'm just really slow.  I'm pretending I have a peg leg like a pirate and wearing an eye patch.

Brian:  But can you Walk Like An Egyptian?

Kelly: I was thinking about getting crutches because at least I'd be a little faster.  Plus I could wrap them with red and white crepe paper and they would look like candy canes.

Brian:  You should get a neck brace. (He is totally mocking my pain, y'all)

Kelly: It probably wouldn't hurt.

Sarah came over that night and confirmed that I have the worst calf injury in the history of the universe a strained calf muscle, and if it's not better in a few days she will procure a fancy lift to put in my shoe so I can be more stylish than ever.

Did I mention that I totally did a sub-30 5k before I blew out my calf?  Hoorah.

P.S. This post gets the award for Most Bold-type Usage.  Because apparently I am feeling emphatic today.


  1. Oh no! I guess it's better than shin splints,though. But congrats on your sub 30! That's AWESOME!! Hope you, your calf, and your neck brace get to feeling better soon!

    1. Thanks, Kate! I am almost back to walking without looking like Igor.

  2. I pretty much can sympathize with your week. Our has been rough too. :( I told my dad I'm ready to move to Timbuktu.

    1. Oh Em, sorry about your week. But Timbuktu made me laugh because I am always threatening to move to Texas.

  3. The pajamas!! I sound like a lunatic when I talk about how comfortable they are, but aren't they?! I need to get some more, because I never want to wash the ones I have ;)

    1. I know - I only buy them when they go on "sale" for $26 a piece instead of $38. Totally worth it! I would live in them if it were socially acceptable.


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