another reason I don't exercise

Wednesday morning I was getting ready for work, warming a bottle, measuring medicine (damn you, ear infections!), and making the bed. Because I multi-task like that. And in the middle of this, my phone starts ringing. At 6:36 a.m. Which is never good. I missed the call because for some reason my brain refuses to recognize my ringtone, even though it hasn't changed in a over a month. It was the hub, calling to say he had hurt his ankle at the gym when getting off the treadmill. He wanted me to come get him and take him to the ER since he was sure it was broken or severely sprained, and either way he heard a pop. I woke Britton, got her ready, threw her into the daycare from my car window, and the hub called to say he would meet me at the ER since he had made it to his truck.

We get to the ER and wait. And wait. Not because there is a long line but because no one likes working that early. We settled into the kid section and watched Madagascar 2 (which was sad in the beginning and made me realize that when Britton starts watching movies, mommy may cry a little too much). Anywho, I finally had to leave and go to work, and the hub called to say it was not broken but that the doctor said he "did a number on it." The doctor who then prescribed Naproxen and Vicodin. If I was in college, that Vicodin would be dissolving in a bottle of Boone's Farm as we speak. But I'm "mature" now (which means I get called "ma'am" a lot) so I made it home after work to take care of the hub and the baby.

Unfortunately, the hub's aunt passed away the same morning, after battling health issues for years. So, as fate would have it, his parents flew in for the memorial service, as well as some great bonding time with Britton. Thankfully, instead of running the show this weekend, I can sit back and relax. And rest my own hurt back that I pulled two weeks ago and it refuses to heal. Oh, we are getting old.