I Don't Like to Complain. BUT...

...well, where should we start?

How about the car?

It started with the popped tire. But, that's okay. I was in front of a Firestone.

Then I locked my keys in my car - again. While a wildfire was raging all around our house. And, this time the "top window" (aka, sunroof) wasn't open. I had to pay a guy to break into my car. And, you know? He may work for a "business" of "locksmiths," but he's still really good at breaking into cars and that's just really disconcerting.

I tweeted all of that and posted it on Facebook.

(See? That's why you should follow me on

Twitter and Facebook, too. Just sayin'.)

Then I got a ticket for having an expired license plate registration - the renewal for which was sitting on the desk at home. (So Shawn told me after I got the ticket.) Awesome-sauce.

But, I was too busy to blog about most of that because I was getting the kids through their last days of school and getting all of us ready to depart for our annual Memorial Day family gathering.

And, well, you might have heard what happened while we were there... And, y'all? I'm trying to be a good sport. But, THIS. REALLY. BITES. I mean. Have you ever thought about how you would put your underwear on if you couldn't put any weight on your left foot? Have you?! It involves your bare butt having to touch stuff.

Thus, began the journey of physical catastrophes for the Johnsons.

The very day we returned from the Emergency Room in Austin, Elizabeth shrieked with pain if you so much as tried to tuck her hair behind her ear. Well, I absolutely know what that means when a kid has been spending every waking moment in a swimming pool. Swimmer's Ear. We tried to treat her with the home-remedy of 1 part white vinegar/1 part warm water in her ear for five minutes twice a day. That did... absolutely nothing. The night we returned home, Shawn went to check on her before we went to bed ourselves. She was whimpering in her sleep. So. heartbreaking.

So, off to the pediatrician's office we go the next day. Me on crutches. And, no pain medicine because then how could I drive?

Subsequently, this update:

The Johnson boys were walking around pretty cocky about their grasp on physical well-being. Until... Spencer jammed his thumb so badly riding his bike that it swelled up to twice its size.

Ok. That's it. What more could possibly happen? Oh, funny you should ask.

This morning Elizabeth was putting on her shorts and something on the inside of her knee caught my eye. It was a huge boo-boo. I'm sorry. Did I say boo-boo? I should have said abscess. With red, puffy swelling about an inch and a half around the infection. Awesome. Let's just say she wasn't a fan of me knocking the top off of that pus scab and dousing it with hydrogen peroxide for about 15 minutes.

Oh, yeah. And, then? The ankle surgeon we were hoping to see here in town? On vacation for the next three weeks.

All these things? They led to this update this morning:

So. That's it. My big complaining post. Thissucksthissucksthissucksthissucks.

I'm done.

Now. Off to find some silver linings, some half-full glasses, some this-too-shall-pass. Because, somewhere? There is someone whose health is being threatened with things that won't mend. Worse. There are people whose baby's health is being threatened with things that won't mend.

So, this cross of mine? Not quite so big after all. (But, I do need to figure out how to pay that ticket. Because, I'm not going to be able to run very far if they come after me with a warrant for my arrest.)

I've Seen Who I REALLY Am. And, It's Not Pretty.

Just a little tip: If you don't want to be stalked by every bedridden invalid on Facebook, you should set your privacy settings very high! Be warned.

And, if you have the misfortune of actually being one of my friends on Facebook? The chances are very good that I have stalked you. And, if I haven't, I will soon.

So. To be clear. This is what I do with my confinement:

• I learn Spanish.
• I look through your pictures on Facebook.

Now you know.

My conscience is clear. Confession is good for the soul.

Now. I have to go. Tengo que hacer acosando.

The News Could Be Worse...

Like. I guess I could need my foot amputated. I don't. So, there's the silver lining.

The facts we know so far? I tore a tendon. And, it took a jaunty little trip around to the "other" side of the fibula (or tibia - I can't keep those bones straight). Thus, the "snap" heard round the world 20-yards away.

Unfortunately, this will require just a touch of surgery. We've been told that, as far as ankle surgeries go, this is a relatively simple one. Yay?

That's that. I'm sitting on my a$$ while Shawn works his off taking care of the kids and me. The pain meds and anti-inflammatory drugs they gave me make me so zoned-out and sleepy, I think I may have drooled a few times.

So, don't expect blogging gold from me. I'm only one (very medicated) person. And, now I've got a bum wheel.

But, I do have one cute anecdote to share. Spence and I were sharing a quiet moment sitting on the couch yesterday morning (the morning after "the incident"). I asked him, "Were you worried yesterday or did everyone do a good job of letting you know I would be okay?"

His answer?

"Yeah. They told me about every ten seconds."

We're all just moms and dads at heart, son. It's best to figure that out now...