Tie-eye-eym... Why you punish me?

I'm just checking in, really. Mostly because it will kill 10 minutes that I should actually be spending on household chores.

We were gone all day while I ran around, picking up and dropping off kids and attending various doctor appointments. The short version of the recap is that I am going in on Wednesday morning to have a needle inserted into my spine. I will be injected with steroids - thereby putting the final nail in the coffin of my hopes for a career as a professional athlete. No?

Okay, well that and my total lack of coordination or ability. And the boobs. The boobs pretty much rule out any sort of for-pay contact sport unless we move to Nevada and I change my name to "Ginger" or "Peaches". Also there would probably need to be some sort of traumatic brain injury involved to convince me to go along with that plan. But now this is sounding suspiciously like a Lindsey Lohan movie, and that's just wrong on so many levels.

What were we talking about again?

Oh. Yes. The Big Sharp Thing that will be puncturing my spinal column on Wednesday. Well, the good news is that this has a good chance of alleviating the pain within a short time. It might take more than one injection - which would suck, but would suck substantially less than surgery... which is the next option if this doesn't work.

Also, we won't be able to start trying again for baby #3 for at least 3 months after I am pain free, during which time I am supposed to, like, tone muscles and stuff. To support the weight I will undoubtedly gain with another pregnancy. Also this might just be the very nice Pain Specialist's roundabout way of saying "Lose some baggage Fatso" but I like to think he'd say it to a thinner woman, too. Especially if she also tended to gain upwards of 50 pounds with each pregnancy and give birth to ten pound babies. Then again, if she does all that and is still somehow svelte afterwards I really need to find her and kick her. (If my sister is reading this, I'll give her a reprieve. Because she DOES gain all the weight, AND have huge babies, AND still manages to be a size 3. But I love her anyway, because she is my sister, and also I hope she remembers this when she makes her first million.) (Unlike my other sister, who has probably already made her first million and totally reneged on her promise to buy me a pony.)

So, yeah, stream-of-consciousness rantings aside, finally there is hope in my future. I'm terrified of having the shot, but it's so preferable to the other options at this point that I'm almost disappointed it's not happening tomorrow. At least T's Mama will be there for moral support - as well as to watch the boys and give me a ride home afterwards. But mostly to hold my hand, because T is in Singapore and I'm terrified something bad will happen to me and he'll be on the other side of the planet. Literally - other side of the planet. Sure they have great shopping but what if I suddenly burst into flames?

SO that totally killed about 20 minutes, and now I can go watch Chuck with the delay on the TiVO to skip over the commercials. Let's recap : Shots - bad. Stoppage of the pain - good. Possible paralysis if things go wrong - bad. Possibility that I won't need a metric butt-load of prescription narcotics just to survive the 5-hour flight to Salt Lake City in a few weeks - good.

It's a dead heat, methinks. Hopefully I'll let you know the final verdict after Wednesday.
(Or I'll blink my eyes to dictate the message in Morse Code after it all goes horribly wrong and I end up in a persistent vegetative state.)
(In which case: someone please prop me up in front of the TV and let me watch the rest of my fall television line-up before pulling the plug. You know, just in case.)

Happy Monday!