asking for help

 

I'm currently in a little nest on the lounge with the remote, codeine, and an ice pack.
An old ballet injury decided to come out to play. This is what comes from exercise, people. At this point, crutches are still a possibility- the last time I ignored the injury and pushed through, I ended up on crutches for six weeks- though I'm yet to work out how I could manage crutches and three children without someone being run over.

So I've had to do something radical.

I've had to ask for help.

I sat on the lounge with an ice pack while Shan made school lunches, after informing the small ones he didn't 'do' puzzle-shaped sandwiches {I think they're still in shock}. I begged my mother to watch Scarley while the big two were at kindy today and spent most of the day in bed. Shan is folding as we speak. He even endured a packet of frozen, microwave-'steamed' vegetables tonight with politeness.

And I think this time, I've finally learnt the lesson the universe has been trying to teach me: people really are {generally} happy to help, if only you ask.

{Did you hear that, universe? I've learnt it. So if my knee could magically fix itself overnight, that would be grand}.