I threw out my back last Friday, making it the fourth time it's happened since I first did so in early 2007. Which makes me realize that it could be becoming a chronic problem, my Achilles heel. The problem is that I can't do anything when it happens--can't do errands, clean the house, play with my child, write, cook, get outside...nothing. I have to just lie in bed or hobble from one room to the next before collapsing in pain. It's ridiculous and debilitating, and it can feel very discouraging, perhaps even more so this time around because I couldn't take any pain killers or lie on my back while pregnant.
I felt pretty mopey this weekend, at times downright depressed. It didn't help that it was one of the most beautiful weekends we've had all year--sun streaming through the windows and a warm breeze blowing the curtains into giant, billowing skirts. Granted, it turned out to only be four days of relative difficulty, but it made me reaffirm my goals to get back into shape as quickly as possible this summer following the birth of our baby. And do all the things that worked last time to help support my back--acupuncture, chiropractic, lots of stretching, start running and hiking again. Maybe I'll also try yoga.
I hate not being able to do anything. I hate not being an active parent. I hate hearing Cora say, "Mommy's back is hurting. Mommy's sick." Ugh. I don't want to be that person.
Also, our budget is completely out the window this month. Completely. We're just going to have to start fresh in March because I have given up even trying to track our food spending. I'll just wait till the end of the month and tally it all up and wish we hadn't spent as much.
Which brings up an interesting point. I've enjoyed not worrying about it. I've enjoyed just going out and picking up something from the store that sounds good and going home and eating it. It's a feeling that is diametrically opposed to how inspired I feel when we're living according to a simple, strict budget, like we were last month. More plastic bags are collecting in our recycling. More packaging is going into the garbage. I noticed this afternoon that for the first time in weeks some of our produce was going bad. Granted, it was a bag of spinach I'd designated for a gnocchi recipe that I couldn't attempt making from bed, but still...
It made me wonder, what side am I on? The simple, community-minded, conscious eater who enjoys cooking everything from scratch, feeling ingredients between my hands and enjoying the process as much as the product? Or the convenience-seeking flavor finder who would like to browse through a world of gastronomic delights created by other people at substantially higher price to me and the planet?
I'd like to be the former, but in truth I am both. I woke up this morning wanting to go to the French countryside. Who knows why, maybe I dreamed of France last night and the images seeped into my psyche, or maybe it was because a trip to France is very different from being bed ridden with a backache, or maybe a trip to France is simply always an attractive option that doesn't need any justification. Regardless, I woke with images of a country cottage near a cobblestone village. I imagined waking with our family and gathering our baskets and bags, and walking down a country road to the tiny town, browsing various shops and outdoor markets for perfectly roasted coffee beans, rounds of golden cheese, braided bread, local produce.
I can imagine enjoying doing that nearly every day--here, or abroad. If I lived near Pike Place Market, it's likely you could find me looking through the stands every afternoon and coming home with a little bit of everything--fresh herbs, a surprising fruit, seafood, fresh poultry, as many vegetables as I could carry.
Next month, I'm going to have to start fresh. I'm not sure what the budget will be. I think I'll try to just spend $100 per week on groceries, outside of the $40 we spend on CSA deliveries.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love our daughter? I don't think I have. But it must be mentioned before I sign off for the day. I can't believe we created her. I can't believe she exists. She is growing up so quickly. Yesterday as we drove downtown she made up a song that she sang in various iterations for a few miles, making me grin and giggle:
"I like my mommy, I like my house, I like dogs and kittens and cheese, I love my mommy, I love my daddy, I love animals, I love to wear my shoes."
Then she said, "Mommy! I have a bird in my hands!"
I asked, "Where did you find it?"
"Right here in the car!"
"What color is it?"
"It's blue."
She also found a small brown bird and they all had an animated conversation together. Then they flew away.
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