Pincushion

It’s time for Cameron to learn to walk. Of course he can already walk, if you mean balance on two feet and move forward – heck, he can run, jump, take different sized steps, all sorts of things. What I mean is to walk places, without howling to be picked up, without dawdling too much, without stopping and screaming and refusing to go on because he wants to go a different direction.

I’ve been packing him in the Ergo to daycare, and letting him walk home. Which means I carry him. The trouble with having him loose on the way to daycare is that the busses are packed, he can’t have his own seat, which means I’m dealing with him in my lap squirming and kicking while I try to not spill my coffee. Dammit, I want to have coffee on the bus in the morning. I don’t want to have to give that up. But I’m going to have to do something, because I cannot keep carrying him.

What brought this on?

Lying on my stomach, my bare ass turned into a pincushion. I also had needles in my neck and shoulders. The rest of me was draped in towels, and a heat lamp was aimed to brilliantly illuminate my rear.

Today my neck and shoulder went into spasm, accompanied by  the sacral-illiac area. I should know which muscles those are, but frankly I don’t care. They hurt.

I should note, though, that I’d forgotten how relaxing an acupuncture session can be. Despite the needles and the humiliating position, I had the most wonderful 20 minute nap I’ve had in a long time. I was warm. I was comfortable. I had sharp little needles reminding my muscles to NOT spasm, including some I didn’t even realize were bothering me. OH, and my hand as ceased the somewhat distressing involuntary twitch it had developed.

I informed Cameron on the way home that my back hurt, and he would have to be a very big boy and walk all the way home. I couldn’t carry him tonight at all. He very sweetly kissed my back better. I explained that this was a big owie, and I had to see a doctor about it. Kisses help, but they don’t make the owie go away. He was a super big boy, and only asked me to carry him once, as we left the bright lights of the main street we live near and headed down our darker road. He has a newfound fear of lightning. Nevermind that it was almost a clear night.

Advertisements

One response to “Pincushion

  1. My back empathizes and sympathizes with you…

    And for what it’s worth… my memories of you and acupuncture… he he he…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s