The best-laid plans of birds and men...

...gang aft agley. I love that line (I know it's supposed to be mice). The last three words mean "go often awry," roughly, but "gang aft agley," however you pronounce it, is more satisfying.

Things didn't really gang agley this week. That is, my plans didn't. The only things I had planned were to get bloodwork done on Monday and to see my doctor on Wednesday, the twins' first tennis lesson on Tuesday, haircuts for all three of us on Saturday, and working along on FlyLady tasks throughout the week. And all those things got done, more or less. I also finally finished my fifth book for the Classics Challenge yesterday and wrote a blog post about it. Glad to have that done.

The problems, such as they were, mainly had to do with tennis. Maybe, when I signed the boys up for tennis lessons, I should have remembered that tennis and I do not have a happy history. When I tried to learn to play tennis, in 7th grade PE, I was so uncoordinated that I could never get beyond hitting the ball against a backboard. You had to be able to hit it a certain number of times in a row before they would let you go onto the court and rally with someone. An intellectually disabled girl called Judy and I were the only two people in the class who never advanced beyond the backboard, in three weeks of trying. 

Judy and I got rather friendly during that time, though I'm ashamed to say I was embarrassed to be grouped with her. We laughed about not being able to hit the ball very well. There wasn't much we could do except laugh. On the last day of the tennis unit, Judy and I were allowed to rally on a court -- not because we'd earned the right, but because it was the last day. We didn't do well. So much for tennis.

But I always thought it looked like fun! And I could play badminton, so why not tennis? I always wanted to take a class and finally really learn how to play, but I was always afraid, remembering that backboard. So what's the solution? Make your kids learn. Let them have the life you didn't get to have. Yes, that always goes well.

Anyway, the boys had their first lesson on Tuesday, and while Teen A did fine, Teen B turned out to be something like me. Not as bad as me, but in that category. And the instructor was not any nicer than my old PE teacher. At the end of the hour, Teen B declared, "I hate tennis!" which was exactly what I did not want to have happen. 

So I emailed the organization that runs the class and asked why the instructor couldn't just teach my kid, not yell at him. I said I don't want my kids to make the high school tennis team, I just want them to have fun. The instructor eventually replied and apologized, but now I have to talk to him in person, probably before class on Tuesday, because he wants to CLARIFY things. I haven't replied to his email yet. I will. I'm planning to be very nice, because now we have to work together. I started this, I have to finish it. I must be brave.

I also gave Teen B a talking-to after class. I told him that it wasn't tennis he hated, it was this stupid instructor. I insisted that tennis is still fun. And he seemed to get the message. On Wednesday evening he and Teen A walked back to the park to play their version of tennis. They came home pretty soon (I think someone had to use the bathroom), but a little later (around 8:30 pm), Teen B wanted to go again, and he convinced me to come and play with him. So I went. I wore my new tennis shoes, which are so comfy and springy, and we played happily for a little while. Then Teen B suggested the game would move along faster if I would RUN after the ball instead of walking. So the next ball he hit to me, I chased. I actually ran.

And I lost my balance. And I tried not to fall. And I started spinning out of control. And I smashed into the new, strong, chain-link fence at full force, and then completely lost my balance and fell on the ground. My glasses went flying across the court. I lay there, absolutely stunned.

I heard what I thought was a strange woman's voice, saying "Are you OK?" I didn't want to have strangers coming over, so I struggled to sit up and found that I could do so fairly easily. Everything hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken. I sat there for a little while, dazed. Teen B came over to me. I told him about the woman, and he said, "That was me!" 

Somehow I managed to stand up. Teen B retrieved my glasses. They were scratched, but not cracked. I put them on. We decided we were done for the night and somehow I managed to walk home. I kept thinking about how there was no one to help me and I had to be strong. Oh, how I hate having no one to help me when something like this happens.

That first night I was terribly worried that I was going to die in my sleep. I thought it was going to be a Natasha Richardson type of situation and I would have an epidural hematoma that would kill me (though in fact those are more likely if you hit your head on the side, not the forehead, as I did). But Urgent Care was already closed and I didn't want to go to the Emergency Room for a simple fall and a bump on the head. It's one of those things -- how on earth do you know whether you should go or not? 

I didn't die overnight, but I woke up in a lot of pain. My main injuries were (1) the head bump, still very tender four days later; (2) an elbow scrape; and (3) a pain to the immediate left of my tailbone, which still hurts terribly today, especially when standing up from a sitting position, or getting in and out of a car. It occurred to me eventually that I probably had a concussion and I wondered whether I should go to Urgent Care (this is Thursday, now) for that. Or at least call an Advice Nurse. But I couldn't seem to make that decision. I was very fuzzy-brained on Thursday (which is a sign of concussion). I had been planning to do a bunch of errands that day, but I decided to stay home. Friday afternoon I did go to the grocery store with Teen B's help, and Saturday night we ate out. I seem to be able to drive with no problem now, but my gait is affected by the continuing pain near my tailbone. I don't seem very steady on my feet. I haven't tried to go for a walk yet. I suppose I'm afraid of falling.

I'm still wondering whether I should call Urgent Care, even now. Or my doctor, tomorrow. Dr. Google told me that coccydynia, or tailbone pain, can take 4 weeks to heal, longer if there is an actual fracture (the 4 weeks is for a bruise). But there isn't really anything a doctor can do for it. Probably I will just wait it out.

So anyway, the best laid plans... I had such high hopes for tennis and now it's not really working out for us at all. But maybe the second tennis lesson will be better.

And this pain that I am in is really affecting my ability to do things. Like sit in a chair and read. Or clean litter boxes. Or clean anything! In addition to the injuries mentioned above, both of my arms are sore. When I pick up something even slightly heavy, like a full laundry basket, it hurts both my arms and my tailbone.

But I'm not giving up on the FlyLady. Even Wednesday night, when I was so miserable and in pain, I did the dishes before going to bed. I did them every night this week. And I did laundry every day except yesterday -- I skipped yesterday because I was planning to handwash another tablecloth, and I decided that would be too painful. I did the kids' laundry today, though.

I also cooked every night. I had planned some interesting meals and I made every single one of them. The kids hated what I cooked on Monday (red lentil soup) and Friday (strawberry pizza), but that's OK. Saturday night we ate out at BJ's, and even though we had mostly appetizers (Teen A did have a cheeseburger too), the bill with tip was $93. For mostly appetizers. They were out of two things that we wanted, so they weren't even very special appetizers. And the piece de resistance, if that's the correct term (it probably isn't) was that Teen B threw up his dinner in the parking lot afterwards. I don't know why. He's fine today.

I don't know what to do about eating out. It's gotten so frigging expensive that I feel like the bill, when they hand it to me, is a joke. Like I'm supposed to start laughing. But at the same time, I don't want to stop eating out. I'm trying to keep it to once a week, so I have to do a lot of cooking on the other six days. But I'd be really sad to give up that once a week meal out. And yet... $93.

The thing about the FlyLady that is so great, even though she is so weird, is that you don't have to do her system perfectly. At the end of all her emails (she sends out about a dozen a day, mostly advertising her products or repeating "testimonials" from flybabies that she's already sent me a dozen times already), she says "You are not behind! I don't want you to try to catch up; I just want you to jump in where we are." And that makes so much sense. I'm always failing to do what I plan, in regards to cleaning, and then trying to catch up. It's hopeless. Much better to jump back in wherever, and go from there.

For example, Friday's task was to thoroughly sweep and mop the kitchen floor. And I wasn't up to it. I did do Thursday's task, which was to clean the surfaces of large appliances in the kitchen. I thought I'd take it slow and just do what felt right. I got so interested in seeing the refrigerator clean that I ended up doing the whole thing, though I was in pain at the end of it. I took all the magnets off and then put them all back on after scrubbing, with the letters and numbers arranged by color. But Friday I somehow couldn't do that sweeping and mopping. It's OK. The kitchen floor has not gone away, and I will sweep and mop it another time -- probably tomorrow, when it's time to "bless the house." 

The book group comes tomorrow, and I'm nowhere near as prepared as I wanted to be. I wanted to move furniture and boxes on the porch so that we could sit out there. I could still do it -- I could get the kids to help me, if it's too hard for me to do alone. But I think we'll just meet indoors. It's supposed to be 98 tomorrow, which means the porch won't be very pleasant at 5:30 pm. If I'm careful to close windows in the morning, the house should be reasonably cool.

What's coming up this week other than the book group -- coffee with a friend on Tuesday morning, the second tennis lesson. This week with the FlyLady we are going to work on the bathroom and one other room, which I have decided will be the office. I think that's it, but undoubtedly other things will come up. I worked on trying to plan meals today, but finally decided to wait until after the book group comes. I've ordered a Mediterranean tray and a fruit tray from the grocery store (cheaper than ordering entrees from a restaurant), and I'm also going to bake a couple of frozen pizzas and I have some gelato in the freezer. The kids can eat bits and pieces of all that, and then I will plan the rest of the week's meals around what's left on the trays. For instance, I think the Mediterranean tray is going to have a lot of pita bread -- if so, we might have pita sandwiches on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Oh, one other thing. Out the window where I can see the lilac, there is also a half-dead aspen, and yesterday I finally realized that the reason a Downy Woodpecker kept going to it was that it had a nest! I could hear the babies peeping when I went out to the car. I told our next-door neighbor about it, but last night she sent me a disturbing text: she had seen a magpie on the tree and the woodpecker parents chasing it! Oh, no, a magpie! I love magpies, but I don't want one to destroy my woodpecker nest. Today I went over to the tree and I couldn't hear the little birds. And then suddenly, there was the magpie! I yelled, it flew off, and I actually threw a stick at it (didn't hit it). I felt terrible -- magpies are my favorite bird. But it was behaving so badly. (I know it's nature. I don't care.) Anyway, later that day I went out again, and I could hear peeping. I also saw a woodpecker parent sticking its beak in the hole. So maybe the nest is OK. Of course, the magpie can and probably will come back, so the story isn't over. But the babies have survived another day. And I think we have baby blue jays and baby robins and probably baby something elses. I have seen so many birds in the yard this past week. Finches and a flicker and birds that moved too fast for me to identify them. And hummingbirds at the feeder. It's June.