I am only four days into my 38th year, and I’ll be darned if my back didn’t go out this morning. Getting ready to leave for my annual birthday brunch with the in-laws, I bent down to pick up the Woob and when I stood up, I felt a crack in my lower back and knew that I was done for. Its not the first time this has happened, but it is the first time it has been injured to this extent while handling the baby. It makes me feel terribly old for one thing, but also sad. This afternoon I did everything I could to care for myself and loosen the thing up, but no amount of cold compress, pain reliever or taking it easy will make it okay to pick my boy up right now.
On a sweeter note, the same day I turned 38, Woob turned 18 months. Yep, I blinked, and there it went. The tiny baby we just brought home (just yesterday??) can now count to 10, fill in some of the ABCs, sing along to Snuggle Puppy, climb into the bathtub himself, use a fork, run, voice his opinion on some things, and has 12 teeth. Oh, and something sweet he’s just started, is when he wants me to look at something, he’ll come grab my hand and lead me along. I LOVE holding hands with my little guy–simply bliss. I’d follow him anywhere.
So as I sit here with my ice pack watching the Emmy’s, and contemplate calling in sick to work tomorrow, I have to say I’m looking forward to what the rest of this year has to bring, and where my little Woob is going to lead me next.