Plaster My Butt

Exciting News after last post: Mr. Wonderful got home from the breakfast by 9! Ballgame not until 11:30!
Ahhh... my good quality Sat. AM time. I am HAPPY! Hot shower. Aroma therapy. I am in a GOOD mood.
I'm excited to have hubby home! I joyfully jump up onto the side of the bed to do a great hurrah of a moment asking silly....and land square on my injured tailbone. You remember the whole sledding expedition on only 1 inch of snow LAST Saturday morning? Just getting better. Now, not better.
OW! OW! OWwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwWWWWWW!
And then I cry for a good five minutes, hurt for ten. All three kids come running... asking if I'm okay.
Dad's at the door, fending them off: "She's fine. Mommy's fine. Go away. Go play."
So, after I finally stop heaving and sobbing,a somewhat salvageable a moment--not really what I had in mind, but real. And together. And funny.
I'll take it.
I'm desperate.
Ow. My butt.
Reinjury of the butt.
All day, when I sat sit down, there is a huge intake of breath, just in case it might hurt. My kids, if nearby, lean over, whisper to me, "Don't tell me, it's your butt." Quite the family joke.
Hubby keeps asking if I want to get it x-rayed.
I don't know. If it's not some sort of bad injury, I'll be embarrassed.
If it is...what're they going to do, plaster my butt?
I don't know.

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