Ladies and gents, I want you to vote for me for presidenta. I’m just gonna make the word “president” feminine by adding an “a”. You get what I’m doing here. Maybe one day soon we’ll need that word.

Here’s my pitch: all mothers should be assigned a personal masseuse. As soon as you find out you’re pregnant, you get a personal massage artist of your choosing. Swedish, Deep Tissue, even a Rolfer. And they’re all funded by some weird tax, like a tax on I dunno, Ferraris or golf. This will continue for the next 18 years or until you no longer want massages- whichever comes first. But who are we kidding?

I think I could win the primary with this promise alone.

Y’all, my back hurts. It’s hurt since I was pregnant and gained 50lbs. Don’t judge- food just tasted really good and my husband would make a giant chocolate chip cookie every three days and we’d eat the  mess out of it. That’s why Boychild’s so sweet, I bet. Now that I’m back to pre-baby weight, my back still hurts. It probably has something to do with me picking Boychild up in the air like I’m about to pile-drive him and then swinging him down through my legs. We do that for a few reps. He’s my 30 pound kettle bell.  Then there’s the holding him on my hip with my left arm while I’m brushing my teeth, brushing his teeth, trying to put on eyeliner, making dinner, etc.

My left arm (my toddler-totin’ arm) is huge. I swear, I look like crab person.

I’ve tried physical therapy, but I fell asleep at the table and it just felt dumb. I tried CBD oil. I think that makes me super-emotional. Or maybe it’s just an emotional time. The only thing that makes me feel better is stretching and a massage. Husband is lovely and will always rub my back. Trouble is, HE needs a massage just as much as I do, so I feel bad asking for one.

My back is full of knots. I have knots on knots on knots. Knots landing. The Gordian knot. I’m a frayed knot. Laying flat on the floor is ecstasy. I never understood this when old people would want to sleep on the floor because it was good for the back. Now I get it.

I bought me a chair thing. My mom gave us an Amazon gift card, and I spent it on a massage chair insert doo-hickey. Best dang thing next to an actual masseuse. I do have to modify it somewhat by putting pillows underneath my bum and scootching to where the rotating massagy things can dig into my back lumps. But it’s working for now, and it’s also really fun to turn it on and watch the cats get confused/ terrified by it.

Until I become presidenta and provide a masseuse to every mom- hey that’s my campaign slogan!- I’ll chill with the massage chair and maybe bribe my husband with giant chocolate chip cookies into giving me a for real backrub.