The Sock Can Live There Now

You know how when someone hurts their back, there’s usually a story? They were moving furniture. Lifting something heavy. Fell down the stairs. Something respectable.

Me?

I picked up a sock.

That’s it. That’s the story.

I bent over to pick up one of my kid’s dirty socks, and my back apparently decided that was enough participation for one lifetime. And I don’t mean I stood back up and thought, Ouch, that’s gonna hurt tomorrow.

No. My back went OUT.

Back spasms from the absolute depths of hell. The kind where suddenly standing up requires a strategy and sitting back down feels like a problem for Future You.

It got bad enough that I ended up at the doctor.

Three shots. Two medications to take at home. An entire week of my life derailed because one of my kids couldn’t locate one of the approximately 42 laundry baskets in this house.

Do you understand how disrespectful that is?

I have carried children. I have survived childbirth. I can carry 37 grocery bags into the house in one trip because obviously I would rather lose circulation in both arms than go back to the car.

But a sock almost took me out.

Then my son decided this was an excellent time to offer some advice.

“Maybe you should have asked one of us to do it.”

Oh. Thank you, tiny life coach.

Perhaps I should have.

OR.

And hear me out.

YOU COULD PUT YOUR SOCKS IN THE LAUNDRY BASKET.

Because somehow you left the sock on the floor, I injured myself picking it up, and now I’m receiving feedback on how I could have handled this better.

This is parenting. They create the problem, you nearly die fixing it, and then they explain what you should’ve done differently.

It’s been almost two weeks, and my back is mostly better. But I’m different now.

I see a sock on the floor and I assess. Whose is it? Do we need it? Is anyone in immediate danger? Could it stay there? What if that’s just where the sock lives now?

So if you come to my house and see a sock on the floor, mind your business.

It’s not a mess. It’s a preventative health measure.

Eventually one of these kids will come looking for it, and I’ll know exactly where it is.

Of course I will.

It’s still on the floor.