Slip 'N Slides are a bad idea

We recently took an awesome vacation with my in-laws to a dude ranch in Wyoming.  I can't think of anything I would rather do, and the experience met and exceeded my expectations.  I'm pretty sure I'll never have another vacation like that again (unless, of course, my in-laws decide to go again, in which case I would jump up and down and say, "WOO-HOO!").  Excellent times, my friends, excellent times.

Besides the horses, though, there was an afternoon of wild games.  It was silly stuff, like putting on wet clothes and running with a full bucket of water, launching marshmallows and catching them, and moving cotton balls from one bowl to another by sticking them on your nose with vaseline.  (I particularly excelled at this event, by the way.  Who knew I had such hidden talent.)

There was also a Slip 'N Slide, a big sheet of plastic set out on the grass, slicked up with water and dish soap.  We all got a big dose of dish soaps on our stomachs, and people looked like penguins splashing down the plastic on their bellies and sliding around like mad.

It looked like fun, and I wanted to participate, not only for the fun factor but because I'm not always good at just playing with my kids.  I'm good at scheduling stuff for them, I'm good at getting them to those places, I'm good at taking them to the library, reading to them,  keeping them (sort of) clean, and I love snuggling with them, but playing with them?  Sometimes I'm at a loss.  I know, it should be easy to play with kids, but kids often make up complicated rules to games and have shocking amounts of endurance for said games, and I'm often not up for the task.

But this was simple and straightforward fun, and the kids were having a ball, so when it was my turn to do a penguin impression I soaped up my belly, ran towards the plastic, and took the plunge.

Oh.  My. Gosh.

I landed on my belly like it was a ton of bricks.  The fall knocked the wind out of me, I slid about 3 inches, and I literally moaned with pain.  I couldn't stand, so I got to my hands and knees and crawled off to the side to make room for the next person.  I stayed on all fours for a moment, but stood up a minute before it was really comfortable so the people watching (yes, the people, ALL THE PEOPLE) didn't get too concerned.  I stayed in a crouch for a little longer, trying to get my breath, and then sort of hobbled over to my husband.

"That was a bad, bad idea," I said.

I was in pain for the rest of the night, and I wondered if I had ruptured a cyst.  I kept checking my urine for blood, and luckily it was clear, but wow did I hurt.  I took some Tylenol,  moved a little gingerly the rest of the night, and went to bed early.  In the morning, I felt better, and was relieved again to have clear urine.  No lasting damage done.

But I have to say, lesson learned.  When you have an umbilical hernia and liver cysts and kidney cysts and kidneys the size of nerf footballs, launching yourself onto slick plastic belly first is possibly the dumbest thing you could ever, ever do.  Pick a different way to play with your kids.  And stick with riding horses.