A sorry tale

So, Friday morning I was up bright and breezy, and actually very excited; I was excited because I was going to yoga! (No, that's not sad bit)

I was merrily glugging my way through gallons of water in preparation for all that sweating and hotness; I'd squeezed my self into my favourite yoga outfit, which doesn't suddenly give me the body of a carrot-juicing-lithe-18-year-old-yoga-bunny, but makes me feel the part, as well as being practical.

(A quick aside - you know they say you are what you eat? Well I'd much rather be a chocolate eclair than a brown lentil, mind you a nice crisp juicy apple wouldn't be so bad....)

Back to the story (riveted aren't you?)

So there I am in all my yogary (like finery but yoga instead of fine); PD is on his way to look after Isobel.

And Isobel...

is pulling all the books off the bookshelf.

I bent down to remove her from the area of temptation... (tension mounts)

And...

Yes, you guessed it. My back went again.

See, it is a tragic, tragic tale. Well, I cried.

Bad Back

What sucks about having a bad back is:

Having to wear sensible shoes to work. How can a girl wiggle in flats?

Not being able to swing little girl by her toes;

Skipping yoga and growing an arse the size of a small country - less of a wiggle more of a wobble;

Feeling older than the edifice outside my office – yes I mean St Pauls;

Having to rely on PD physically as well as financially - and not for kicks.

What rocks about having a bad back:

…

Don't you love me baby

Poor Isobel is a bit bit bemused at the moment.

Mummy isn't playing so much, there aren't so many scoop-you-up-and-cuddle-yous going on. And Mummy keeps doing A LOT of deep breathing - all very odd.

But you see, Mummy has put her back out, twice in less than a week, is walking like a duck and saying ouch (or something close) quite a lot. It appears to be actually quite difficult to look after a one year old when sudden forward bending movements are a no-no.

To add insult to injury (literally) I seem to be replacing yoga with food, which does not a yummy-mummy make. So I really am proving to be neither use nor ornament.

It will pass.

Poor PD did his best to relieve the pressure yesterday, but was thwarted a little by the rail system. I was hoping to have help this evening but that's gone slightly awry too.

I thought I was pretty independent, but I guess the universe is teaching me to be more so!