Fix my back, fast!

As a mama, like all mama, I really, really, really try.

That includes reminding myself that this is what I signed up for.

And that my kids are sweet little dollfaces. Fortunately, they really are.

Usually.

That also means minimizing any grumbling to my single, childless friends who would like to have what I have, even if it was just some of it. (My friends who fit this bill are laughing now, i.e. a lot of my running buddies, noting I fail at this... )

I can live without Botox, live with an annual pedicure and go years without hitting a street festival or wine tasting.

But what I really, really want is someone to fix my mommy back.

About every six months-ish, niggles will form along my mid-spine, almost like something is alive in there and wiggling around.

That wiggling starts to feel inflamed, and it grows. Within hours, it can be excruciating, reducing me to tears, bitchiness and a week or more of pain. I get nauseous when the pain is really bad. It just sucks.

I always try hard to self-manage it. I jam my back against a tennis ball and roll on it until my back is bruised, alternate heat and cold, spend money I can ill-spare on one desperate massage, which invariably gives me a few hours of release but never solves the problem. And then I'm in pain AND mad I've wasted money.

It's like there's a mad fiddler in there and he's just getting warmed up. And he hates me.

It's my fault. I pick up my daughter too much. And she's pushing 35 pounds. But if she were yours, you'd pick her up, too. She's an ultimate dollface.

I've tried docs/physical therapy and chiros in the past.

Docs/PT takes too long. By the time I can see a doc and get a referral to PT, the suffering has usually passed.

Chiros, in my experience, have been bloodsuckers who want me to sign up for a bunch of prepaid sessions, during which I am convinced they are going to snap my spine with their really hard twists and cranks. I hate them.

Actually, I know there are some out there who don't just try and hustle their patients. I would love to find one of them. But I always find the hustlers, unfortunately.

I used to go to a naprapath, which was the closest I could find to a place where I could drop in for a session or two, and actually have my back feel better.

But I lost track of that guy. He was a really weird dude anyway and reeked of cigarettes. And didn't accept insurance.

Fixing my back is like everything else. It's gotta be quick, convenient and preferably something I can squeeze into my imaginary lunch hour.

Or be open at 5 a.m., when everyone in my house is still sleeping. (I can't even find a yoga class that will start that early. I've looked). Wait, that cuts into my running. Better make it 4:30 a.m.

(Fortunately, it doesn't hurt when I run. Only when I do pretty much anything else, except when I'm laying on a bag of ice. As if. Try doing that with a 3- and 5-year-old tearing around your house. Or at the office.)

So someone invent the fix-mom's-back-drop-in-clinic. That fits in my impossible, ridiculous hours.

If you provide free child care, take insurance and offer a bonus chilled glass of sauvignon blanc, I will love you forever.