An Open Letter to my Plantar Fascitis

On my one month anniversary with plantar fascitis, I thought it best to write a letter to it.

The tape I wear all the time.
Toph gets jealous so we got him some.

Dear Plantar Fascitis in my right foot,

Hi there. I hope this finds you well, and by well I mean to say that I hope the tendons you're inflaming are about healed.

I'll never forget the night you came into my life. I ran three miles at the gym on Monday, February 13. I felt great. I came home and a couple hours later...my foot felt funny. It hurt. I thought I was having a muscle spasm and ate a banana. You probably laughed, all snuggled up in the tendons of my foot. By the time I went to bed, I was limping.

When I woke in the morning, I could barely walk. I had to miss work. I whiled my day away icing my foot and rolling around on a computer chair.  The doctor took an x-ray and said, "Yep, plantar fascitis.  Nothing to do for it but wait."

I was diagnosed and told not to run for two weeks. I listened. You're still here. I was told to ice my foot and wear supportive shoes. I have. You're still here.  I've sought Airrosti treatment, worn tape and done exercises.  You're still here.

I am getting tired of the elliptical machine at the gym and yesterday, I saw that the basketball court was free of sweaty men for the first time in ages. I took my chance.

I dribbled, I shot lay ups, I practiced my free throws and I even did the Mican drill for two minutes, for old times' sake. Swish, swish, swish, swish. I was in my element. I had so much fun. Being embedded in my body, you are surely privy to the fact that basketball is my sport. I LOVE to play it.

Then, towards the end of my fun time, you flared up with a fury. I had to go home early. And Plantar Fascitis, let me tell you:

I am pissed off at you now.

Before I was trying to be patient but now that you've managed to send the message that basketball is not okay, I want you GONE.

I don't like limping after my son.  I don't like stepping gingerly out of bed.  I don't like not running.  I don't like being aware of every single step I am taking because walking hurts.  I don't like only wearing my running shoes because they're the only thing that doesn't set you off.

I'm tired of you, Plantar Fascitis.  Please get out.

Your hostess,
gin

I'm linking up with Shell today for PYHO.  I want to congratulate her on two years with an awesome linky party.  It's a rarity that one might have such a long running linky on their blog but hers is pure gold.  It's a place where we can be honest and truly pour our hearts out.  Thanks Shell and congratulations!!

Do I Hover? (PYHO)

I recently learned the term "helicopter mom." A coworker explained the term to me and I remained on the fence about whether or not I am one. I mean, my kid isn't even two, right? Surely some hovering is required at this stage of life. In fact, a lot of hovering. (Hopefully, right?)

Fast forward to Saturday, when we went to a neighborhood backyard party. There was music, a trampoline and a huge play place, complete with slide, rock wall and see saw.

It was kid heaven and Toph immediately wanted to play. He was the youngest kid there and I didn't feel right about just turning him loose. So, I stayed with him. I guided him up the ladders, I caught him at the end of the slide, I hoisted him up on the trampoline.

At one point, I looked around and found I was the only parent not visiting. I was the only parent at the play place. I was the only one keeping a careful eye on her kid.

At the time, I kind of got worried, thinking that they would think my son is "chiflado" (spoiled) and that I didn't trust the play equipment. I was worried about their opinion of me, like maybe I was using Toph as an excuse not to socialize. At one point I did yearn to go and visit, to work the crowd, but the thought of my kid falling off the play place had a sort of magnetic pull on me.

So, I stayed. We played. I watched. He had fun. Maybe I hovered. I don't care.

What do think? Am I displaying characteristics of a helicopter in the making?

Linking up here:

Pouring My Heart Out: A Few Things

This is my first link up with Shell's Pour my Heart Out link party, so I thought I would start big for everyone and pour my heart out about a mishmash of different topics.

--For the life of me, I can't find a bra that will fit me. I'm in the process of weaning Toph and my girls are all over the place. I'm pretty sure the left on is dry but the right one's cup overfloweth, if you catch my drift. So, in my 38D bra, one side is spilling out and the other is too small for the cup, making me look like I'm wearing someone else's bra. It's annoying and it makes me feel extremely self conscious.

So I've got that going for me.

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--I'm pretty angry about the budget crisis my state is facing. It means the education budget is being slashed dramatically, thus putting all the inner city school children in even more dire straits that what they were. Say what you will, but the demographic of children who will be hit the hardest are my kids. The inner city kids. The higher demo will ride this storm and no one will really know the difference.

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--I'd be a terrible stay at home mom. It's what I want to do more than anything, however I think I would thoroughly stink at the "home" part of the job description. I can't seem to get anything cleaned, cooked or DONE while staying at home with my boy. The mom part I've got down; we play, we read, we fuss, we eat, we nap. It's the other part I'm having hard time with. My husband really puts me to shame, which compounds my problem. I came home the other night from a wedding shower and the house was pristine, he was in the middle of pureeing veggies, the baby was bathed and in bed and the carpet was vacuumed. What am I doing wrong?

--Sometimes, I find a random blog that I read and it bothers me but I read it anyway. I never follow or comment on these blogs, but I continue to read them even though I am pretty sure this person and I would not be friends in real life. I always come away feeling...lesser after having read this blog. I'll admit; today I wanted to leave a snarky comment as she told us about her sponsored post but never mentioned the product at all.  Come on. Alas, I didn't leave the comment and have vowed to not visit the site if it makes me feel that way. (No, it's not your blog in case you're wondering. This person FOR SURE does not read my wonderful writing, nor do her posts come through my dashboard.)

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--There are times when I feel unsettled and I can't think of why.  I have to backtrack and think about the events that led up to right now, to try and figure out why my soul is not still.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.  Sometimes, it's plain old PMS.