2006 ROCKS!!!

48 hours and counting on the couch, foot elevated, no kids. Torture: cruel & unusual, to be sure.

I've watched all the chick flicks I can handle without acquiring requisite toothache, have watched all the rated R movies I can handle without acquiring requisite headache, practiced my guitar to the point that I have finally achieved callous status (without actually getting any better, I'm afraid), have flipped through mags and novels, watched every Law&Order marathon, and am currently trying to figure out how in the hell I am going to survive this coming week with no more neighbors with free time, no more grandparents with free time, no more anyone with free time. BTW, thank you, Hosts, for a wonderful Parasite's Ball. So sorry the party has to end!

Originally, I was confident in my ability to sustain my "injury" while continuing our normal routine. It would be a mere inconvenience, I assured myself. Now that my deliciously delectable babies (can you tell they've been gone a while?) are returning to my care this evening, I am beginning to sweat just a bit.

Ryan should be pretty okay, other than being mind-numbingly, let's-redecorate-the-upstairs-where-Mom-can't-go kind of bored. This, I can live with. Jax is another matter.

Unfortunately, though he is otherwise completely brilliant and obviously talented beyond his almost-9-months, Money Ticket #2 still isn't walking (sooo inconsiderate), and he's barely mastered the crawling bit. So okay, I can manage to hobble around on one crutch while holding him, but what about bathtime? What about naptime? What about bedtime on those days Shawn closes the restaurant? I've mastered the scooting up the stairs on my ass trick(oh how you wish you had seen that), but am slightly concerned about doing it with 22 lb butterball in tow.

Plus, when I get to the top of the stairs, what am I supposed to do? I've currently got the Dr's spare set of Saran-Wrapped "crutches" awaiting me at the top of the stairs, should I dare attempt upward mobility, but they will be returned tomorrow, so as to avoid being charged any kind of usage fee (a beggar and a chooser am I).

Let's not forget my life-long coordination-challenged status. I'm not sure I'm the best candidate for the job of One-legged Baby Juggler. Thank God for Baby Bjorn, though that should be a sight as well.

Inevitably, we will have to venture out in the car at some point, which I'm thinking will probably require an extra hour of prep time; you know, just to be sure I don't accidentally kill any babies/small children in my attempt to load the car and subsequently drive using only the big toe of my right foot. That last part will probably be easier than it sounds, given my unusually long toes (shut up Lea Ann), though if you live in the Round Rock area, I might suggest you stay off the road between 9:30 am and 4pm, just to be safe...

So anyway, that's where I'm at now, contemplating the upcoming week and trying not to cry. I won't even allow myself to touch the issue of this coming weekend when I'll have to nurse Shawn back to health after his "operation" (5 days and counting). I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it or, rather, hobble...whatever.