…well, not quite. Not anymore. But I spent a lot of last week staring at the ceiling after trying to carry Sweetpea upstairs one night at bedtime.

Looking after a toddler isn’t for sissies! The Bad Back Years, a friend calls them. I have lupus, so I have to be doubly careful to pace myself, but I started to get in over my head last month. Preparing for an overseas move, working feverishly on novel revisions, rough-and-tumbling with Sweetpea — I guess it’s no wonder things fell apart. The stairs were just the coup de grace.

Reminder to self: When you feel yourself starting to go under, *stop*. You will save yourself a lot of trouble.

After ten days of rest, ice, medicine, and very careful exercise — plus a very welcome rescue visit from Sweetpea’s grandparents — I’m finally getting back on my feet.

I’m standing up as I write this, and I’ve gone back to dictating, not typing. (This entire entry is being written with NaturallySpeaking, which has saved my bacon more times than I can count.)

But being able to write — even just a little bit, even by dictation software — feels wonderful.