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Subject: Do I have a brain in my head?!
Date: 8/31/08 8:27:35 PM W. Europe Standard Time
From: laura_teacherchick@hotmail.com
To: savvyhausfrau@aol.com

Hey Frau:

Seriously, I wonder if I do! At this point should some dressed-in-black CIA intell agent come after the incredibly important crap that I have stored in my brain with a belt sander (or whatever intimidating techno-gadgets they use nowadays), he can have whatever he wants. I won't even make him plug it in (or boot it up or whatever).

I know, you are only curious as to where I found the time to email to you. Well, let me tell you. It's because I'm laid up on the couch injured & in pain. I'm snuggled up with the laptop trying to recuperate from a wee little treadmill mishap. If I only had a brain left (yes, those 5th graders did a number on me this past school year!) there would have been a neuron or two rubbing against each other warning against attempting exercise at home with BoyChild anywhere in the vicinity.

Yes, I had an accident on a treadmill. Plain ol' put-one-foot-in-front-of the-other treadmill.

Not even something glamorous like an elliptical crosstrainer.

Or a stairstepper.

I was in the middle of my 45 minutes of cardio following every safety precaution known to ambulance chasing attorneys the general public: I was wearing properly fitting tennis shoes which were laced and tied appropriately. I was also wearing a very large, loose-fitting t-shirt non-constrictive exercise clothing. I was not exercising beyond my ability. I had a medical professional's blessing. And, I was even had the emergency-evacuation-shut-off-the-damn-treadmill strap clipped to my t-shirt.

I was having a great old time doing just fine huffin' & puffin' and putting one foot in front of the other until BoyChild and his balloon entered into the equation.

You're smart, Frau, I know you can see where this is heading. Let me just add that this was no ordinary balloon that the BX/PX sells for kids birthday parties - the ones that will actually pop if you blow them up too much - not that I would know, or anything, but you might. This particular balloon was (was, as in is no longer) the kind that usually has a rubberband attached and is much larger and harder to pop than a regular balloon.

BoyChild was absolutely driving me nuts popping the balloon all around the living room. Pop. Pop. Bang. Bang. Bop. Bop. Bop. I know, you have girls & it's hard to imagine obnoxious ninja balloon movements near the treadmill. But what if MiniMe physically insisted that you give Freakish My Size Barbie Rosie a hug two-thirds the way through your cardio? It might be slightly irritating, right?

That's the kind of irritated I was at the T-minus 20 minute mark. That's the kind of irritated I was when my exercise session became a blur of tumbling, jumping around, cussing of the boy & balloon explosion.

Predictably, the balloon did not make it, and neither did I. I came crashing down to the treadmill, the only thought running through my head was at least I don't have to deal with that damn balloon anymore.

I know, a good mother would have been thinking where is BoyChild & is he hurt? But not me & my mush for brain. My limbic system was just thrilled that damn balloon was popped to oblivion.

About that time, it dawned on me. I had come to an abrupt halt on my ankle & butt and the treadmill was unbelievably still running. This is the same treadmill that comes to a bone jarring halt if I even think of touching the safety strap. Not that I can think with my dysfunctional frontal lobe today.

Although, still cursing damn balloon, I did had the presence of mind to grab the strap and get the effin' treadmill stopped. By this time, the accidental criminal had bolted to the safety of his room, crying, convinced he had killed or at least maimed his mother. No offers of assistance, no calling 911, no super hero BandAid, no nothing. Typical male.

About this time the adrenalin rush totally wore off & the pain set in. I surveyed the injuries and determined that the damage was not nearly as bad as it could have been. Thanks to my yanking post-crash on the safety strap, not its functioning properly while attached to the super-large, stretched out t-shirt. Yes, there is a lesson to be learned here. Wear spandex. Especially if you are exercising in the privacy of your own home.

Or attach the strap to the inside of your sports bra.

Or keep the treadmill clicking along at 2 mph.

Or just screw it an eat salads morning, noon & night for a month of Sundays.

Ok, I know you are wondering, so I'll cut right to the chase: nothing broke or even sprained. My primary injury was much worse: the treadmill scraped a good chuck of the tan off my shin. Yes, you read right. My tan, and all the skin attached, ended up clinging to my brand new, ultra short ankle socks.

Another fashion lesson learned: wear 70's style tube socks with your spandex while exercising.

A Man lesser person would have just fainted right then & there.

But, not me. I had to play mommy & make BoyChild feel better about his unintentional felonious activities. BoyChild eventually came back downstairs, still sniffling, to apologize. Admittedly, he was probably crying & sniffling over the loss of damn balloon, but I chose to think he was shedding tears over my now very uneven tan abraded shin.

Thankfully, after a handful couple of ibuprofen, a long shower and 13 super hero BandAids, everything is mostly back to normal. My leg still hurts & I'm still laying on the couch, milking my injury for all it's worth. BoyChild just brought me my second Diet Coke of the afternoon & he has whined not one bit about my watching Oprah while he misses Pokemon. A little maternally inflicted guilt never hurt anyone, right?

Once the skin grows back on my shin, I think some spray sunless tan will catapult me back to good-as-new condition. Or, as good-as-new as I can be without a brain.

Hey, Frau, be careful out there exercising! You mentioned something about starting at the gym next week?

~Laura


Subject: Yes, you have a brain!
Date: 9/1/08 10:22:08 AM W. Europe Standard Time
From: savvyhausfrau@aol.com
To: laura_teacherchick@hotmail.com

Hey L:

Of course you do! It's just hard to use it appropriately for logic & reason purposes when it's constantly being assaulted by children - both at home & in the public school system.

So sorry about the injuries. Who knew you could get roadrash on a treadmill?

I will take your cautionary tale into consideration when I begin my exercise program tomorrow (gosh, is tomorrow Tuesday, already?!). I think I'll have to skip the spandex & tube socks though. Our gym is located directly under Man's office & everyone knows us. Me in spandex & tube socks might be a career showstopper for him if the wrong people get a look at that.

Plus, I don't own spandex (just some Lycra blends) or tube socks (although I wouldn't doubt there's an original pair from the 70's in one of Man's basement boxes).

Hey, BoyChild's birthday is coming up soon. Are you decorating with balloons?
Sorry, had to ask. :O)

They make super hero BandAids? Who knew?! I always buy the Princess or Hello Kitty ones.

What was on Oprah? Was it the one about How to Look Good Naked? Maybe she should work on one about how to look good in Spandex & tube socks. She could co-host it with Bob Greene as a exercise safety show.

Anyway, gotta run. MiniMe is insisting that I give Freakish My Size Barbie Rosie a hug.

And, I need to make lunch. A nice salad, of course.

Be careful walking. I wouldn't trying doing that with gum anytime soon.

~Frau