Okay, Mike and I took the kids to a local water park on Friday. I was then encouraged and dared to ride a ride called,"The Black Widow." As I hit the second tier, I caught a lot of air and started to flip on my big giant floaty tube thingy, so rather than go down on my face on the ride the rest of the way, I let the tube go up behind me and I landed in back in the track and went down. I knew I got banged up and I took it easy for the rest of the day. I took 800 mg of ibuprofen, and I got worse. I got to where I was whimpering when Mike drove over road seams, at which point, I called my doctor's line to see just how much painkiller could I get hepped up on. I was referred to the nurse's line, who referred me to the emergency room.

Several hours later from the emergency room, I was sent home with the prognosis: A broken rib.

Deep breathing hurts. Sneezing hurts. Belching hurts. Drinking a lot of cold water hurts. Sleeping hurts. And vicodan is a drug you can only use at night because it isn't good for driving. I know, I know -- details, details.

And clothes you can button up are just about the best damned thing you can have in your wardrobe. At least now that the muscles have mostly healed, I can get on my own underwear. Getting in and out of bed is a complete and total bitch. And hiccups are the work of the devil.

The worst part is that I can't hug the kids very well. Genny's been dying to cuddle and all I can do is hold hands, which just plain blows.