On Sex and Sprained Ankles

My new-found athleticism has its price, it seems. Thursday evening I went out for a run - was going to make it short, mind you, just a 2 mile circle through the 'hood - and about a half-mile into it, somehow sprained my ankle. It happened so fast I'm not sure exactly how it happened - maybe I stepped down on half-curb, half-street, where it's often very uneven. Or maybe I'm just a klutz. Either way, it hurt like bloody mary and I had to flag down help from the neighbors. Wonderful DH came riding up to the rescue and carried me to the car and then to bed once he got me home. Ice, elevation, the whole RICE thing. It made me cry, it hurt so bad.

The next morning I saw the doc who proclaimed it a sprain, not a break, and great waves of relief rolled over my entire being. I don't know why I was so frightened of it being broken. I'm told that sprains are more painful AND take longer to heal than broken bones. Wonderful. Just what I wanted to hear.

Anyway, now I am hobbling around on my dad's crutches and getting stares everywhere I go. My dad's crutches are the kind that only come up to your wrist, with the little half-circles for resting your forearms and handles that jut out, instead of the kind that go under your arm with handles as crosspieces. So when I walk around, if I weren't wearing my ankle brace, you'd think I had MS or some other neuromuscular disorder. So people stare! It's a little uncomfortable when its strangers (like the ones at the Waffle House), but more bearable when it's your friends (like at church today) who instead of staring gave me LOTS of sympathy and fellow-sprained-ankle-survival stories, which greatly lifted my spirits and made me feel like I was not a TOTAL dork. Thanks, guys!

In news from the parenting front... THE TALK is becoming a hot topic around here these days. Did you know that kids are hitting puberty at earlier ages? Does that surprise you as much as it does me? My oldest ds is not yet 12, and he has definitely discovered girls. Which is a good thing, believe me, I know that yet. And yet...

He has girls calling him. Not girls I know, whose parents are my friends, or girls from the neighborhood, about whom I can discreetly inquire. No, these are girls he meets at camps, or at VBS's he visits. Random girls, who seem to think I have any intention of letting my son develop a "relationship" with some girl I've never even met, who hangs up the phone if anyone but my son answers. (Please! Have you never heard of caller ID?)

Yeah, yeah, I know - it's a modern world. And yeah, he's a handsome little guy (who will very soon, probably within a year, be taller than me). But can I just say that I don't care HOW old he is, I'm never going to be okay with being left out of the loop when it comes to his friends? I'm really okay with his being friends with girls, getting to know what girls are like and figuring out what he's going to want (and want to avoid) in a future wife. I just don't want any of that to happen out of my view and earshot. Twelve is not old enough to have learned how to guard your heart and mind from all the bad decisions that can bring you lasting pain.

Sigh.

And now, DH can also breathe a sigh (of relief) that this post wasn't about how to do it with a sprained ankle. I do have SOME sense of propriety, dear.