My day today began a 4:15 am. I awakened to the sound of a woman outside my house, yelling "help" over and over again. I was flooded with a series of thoughts... "I should run out and make sure she's okay. There could be danger out there. I shouldn't also put myself in harm's way. I should call 911. What if something awful is happening? What if I'm not doing enough? What would my mom do? What would other people do? What is the right thing?" All these things came to mind in a matter of seconds. I elected to call 911, and dispatch was sending police over immediately. Obviously, I could not get back to sleep.
I got to work, and found that one of my clients had been suspended and received legal charges. His family is unwilling or unable to cooperate with therapy, and I feel at a loss about how to help him.
I met with an elementary school girl who is incredibly traumatized, and trying to work through it. But her eyes were vacant, she shook and cried. I couldn't solve it for her in that minute.
I heard from my mom that she was not feeling well, and was likely going to admitted to the hospital. She was not able to care for my baby for the rest of the day. I wanted to find a way to help her, and get care for Kinnie.
Just as I am writing this, something bit me. Twice. Right on my hip scar.
I don't know what I'm trying to say, to write, by detailing all of this. But I don't feel good. I feel disappointed, sad, hurt, scared, angry. Helpless. Helpless. And I am trying to figure out how to put my energy into the places that matter most, and let go of the rest, so that I don't feel so crazy busy. But I can't figure out how to prioritize.
I realized, in a meeting this afternoon, that I have completely lost my sense of people being inherently good. I realized that when I began my job two years ago, I was absolutely convinced that all people are doing the best they can. I don't feel that anymore. And I would like to.
I am not of the perspective that things can't get worse because I know they can. I know that tomorrow will likely contain more successes. But I would like to know how to make today feel more successful. Sometimes its hard for me to focus on anything other than feeling that the day was overwhelming.
Deep breaths...
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
A doozie...
Today was a doozie. The things that come out of my daughter's mouth astonish me, and make me laugh. I don't know where she comes up with this stuff. I had to write to capture some of it...
-This morning, while coloring with markers, Kin decided to color on herself. I reminded her that if she continued to do that, we would have to put the markers away. To this she replied, "But Mommy, I need to go color on myself."
- Later in the day, Kinnie and I were in her room, playing with her new Dora doll. I play the role of Dora, and Kinnie played herself. Dora grabbed one of Kinnie's toys and said, "It's mines" (meaning, it is mine). Kinnie grabbed the toy from Dora, and said, "No, it's mines." Dora became upset, and asked, "why don't you want to share with me?" To this, Kinnie offered an extensive explanation; something like: "it's special because we got it at the store and so it's special and it's mines." Dora couldn't argue with that.
- On our afternoon walk, with Kinnie in the stroller, and Daddy with the dogs on leash, Kinnie said, "I'm mad at Daddy. Daddy is Daddy Gay." (This remark is thanks to my little brother and his "teachings.") I asked why she was mad at Daddy, and she said, "No, I'm not mad at Daddy. I'm curious." Hmmm...
- At dinner, the discussion turned to private parts. Kinnie looked at Daddy and said, "You have a vagina."
- Kinnie stubbed her toe this evening, and Daddy tried to kiss it. She said, "Daddy, don't touch me. I'm special."
Yes, Kinnie, you are special. I wish I could record every day, all the times you make me laugh. Of course there were other moments today, like when you pooped in the tub. As I was scrubbing it out, you turned off the bathroom lights and refused to turn them back on. That was not fun. But now that all the bleach I could find has been used to disinfect the bath, I can even laugh at that, too. Anyone who does not believe that parenthood is an incredible adventure is not paying attention.
-This morning, while coloring with markers, Kin decided to color on herself. I reminded her that if she continued to do that, we would have to put the markers away. To this she replied, "But Mommy, I need to go color on myself."
- Later in the day, Kinnie and I were in her room, playing with her new Dora doll. I play the role of Dora, and Kinnie played herself. Dora grabbed one of Kinnie's toys and said, "It's mines" (meaning, it is mine). Kinnie grabbed the toy from Dora, and said, "No, it's mines." Dora became upset, and asked, "why don't you want to share with me?" To this, Kinnie offered an extensive explanation; something like: "it's special because we got it at the store and so it's special and it's mines." Dora couldn't argue with that.
- On our afternoon walk, with Kinnie in the stroller, and Daddy with the dogs on leash, Kinnie said, "I'm mad at Daddy. Daddy is Daddy Gay." (This remark is thanks to my little brother and his "teachings.") I asked why she was mad at Daddy, and she said, "No, I'm not mad at Daddy. I'm curious." Hmmm...
- At dinner, the discussion turned to private parts. Kinnie looked at Daddy and said, "You have a vagina."
- Kinnie stubbed her toe this evening, and Daddy tried to kiss it. She said, "Daddy, don't touch me. I'm special."
Yes, Kinnie, you are special. I wish I could record every day, all the times you make me laugh. Of course there were other moments today, like when you pooped in the tub. As I was scrubbing it out, you turned off the bathroom lights and refused to turn them back on. That was not fun. But now that all the bleach I could find has been used to disinfect the bath, I can even laugh at that, too. Anyone who does not believe that parenthood is an incredible adventure is not paying attention.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Wow
I was just down in the basement, folding a never-ending pile of laundry, when I had an epiphany. I realized that I had no weight on my shoulders. I was thinking about my adventurous day with my 2-year-old, the coming weekend, starting my new job next week... It all felt... simple. Yes, simple. I thought about using the word normal. And then, being the processor that I am, I wondered why I felt so... simple. Is it about the new job? Is it having had a good day (relatively) with my kid?
Then, the epiphany. Nothing, in the last 3 or more months, has felt simple. Nothing has felt routine. I was not able to anticipate an average day. And having been in that place, and coming to this place, is amazing.
I am healing well. I walk without crutches or a cane, and usually without a limp. I don't have limitations, other than getting a bit sore at the end of the day. I even "ran" with Kinnie yesterday. It is weird to jog when you haven't done anything of the sort in months.
My heart is swelling with gratitude. I can't describe it better than that.
(See below for the reason for "relatively." I caught the child doing this while I was cooking dinner. At least the permanent marker was on the mirror. Oh, except for the streak on the wall and the leather couch...)
Then, the epiphany. Nothing, in the last 3 or more months, has felt simple. Nothing has felt routine. I was not able to anticipate an average day. And having been in that place, and coming to this place, is amazing.
I am healing well. I walk without crutches or a cane, and usually without a limp. I don't have limitations, other than getting a bit sore at the end of the day. I even "ran" with Kinnie yesterday. It is weird to jog when you haven't done anything of the sort in months.
My heart is swelling with gratitude. I can't describe it better than that.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Terrible Twos
Oh my. I love my baby. To the moon and back. And for the last few days, bedtime could not have come soon enough. I thought we had seen tantrums before. And demanding. But this IS IT. Oh gosh, or, at least I hope it is. If it gets worse, I may just end up in the state hospital.
It seems that it happened over-night. We tucked in our sweet baby and awakened to a terror. Not that every minute is terrible. But you never know when she may decide that your answer wasn't good enough, or that it is too frustrating to repeat what she said because you didn't understand it the first time. I advised some friends last night that they should avoid having a two-year-old. You know, just have a kid that skips from 18 months to 3 years.
I guess the challenging moments teach us to cherish the easy-going ones. And moments like these are still precious...
It seems that it happened over-night. We tucked in our sweet baby and awakened to a terror. Not that every minute is terrible. But you never know when she may decide that your answer wasn't good enough, or that it is too frustrating to repeat what she said because you didn't understand it the first time. I advised some friends last night that they should avoid having a two-year-old. You know, just have a kid that skips from 18 months to 3 years.
I guess the challenging moments teach us to cherish the easy-going ones. And moments like these are still precious...
Saturday, July 7, 2012
The light of my life
I'm up late. Real late for me. Especially these days. I've been in bed for two hours, unable to sleep. I'm not sure why, other than a lot of excitement. And, perhaps a lack of proper hydration, considering my recent activity level. I've been on my feet more in the last seven days than I had all of the previous 6 weeks. So, I'm sitting here with a large glass of water, and thought it an opportune time to reflect upon being the mother of a two-year-old.
We hosted the second of Kinnie's birthday parties at our home this afternoon. We celebrated with Brian's family one week ago. She is a delight. Turns out, she is one party girl. She loves presents. Once one has been opened, and briefly enjoyed, she turns to me and says "I wan anoder present." She took it pretty well when I told her that, in fact, they had all been opened. And thank goodness, for the sake of our modest home, which has been over-run by brightly colored games, and dolls, and toys of all kinds. Kinnie also really likes cake. Or at least frosting. At her birthday celebration with Brian's family, there were cupcakes piled with the stuff, in an amazingly un-natural blue-purple color. She proceeded to eat all the frosting off two of those. Then, she ran around like a maniac.
I am getting closer and closer to healed. I walk primarily with my hot-pink cane, saving the crutches only for longer walks with the dogs. I can get on the floor, and pick Kinnie up. I can do some cleaning around the house, get to the grocery store, and change diapers again. Normalcy seems to be returning, slowly but surely.
Kinnie has continued to be a champion through this experience. My worries prior to surgery and recovery have not become realities. She has, in many ways, remained a Mommy's girl. And, all the time that I was not able to be right there with her taught her that Daddy is pretty incredible, too. She has become more self sufficient. She plays quietly, every once in a while, on her own. When she accompanied my mom and me to my post-op appointment this week, I asked her what she wanted to tell the doctor. She said, "make Mommy's owie all better." She kisses my leg on a daily basis to achieve that end.
Pride, I have heard, can be sinful. But certainly not this kind. My heart swells when she says "thank you Mama" after I hand her juice, when she remembers that markers only go on paper, when she does something to make us laugh, when she gives her loved ones "big squeezes." So many people have remarked that the time goes so fast. But I think as I make the effort to be present every day, to attend to all the joys and beautiful moments, time almost slows down. I am grateful, grateful, grateful, down to the core of my soul. I never knew I could love this much.
We hosted the second of Kinnie's birthday parties at our home this afternoon. We celebrated with Brian's family one week ago. She is a delight. Turns out, she is one party girl. She loves presents. Once one has been opened, and briefly enjoyed, she turns to me and says "I wan anoder present." She took it pretty well when I told her that, in fact, they had all been opened. And thank goodness, for the sake of our modest home, which has been over-run by brightly colored games, and dolls, and toys of all kinds. Kinnie also really likes cake. Or at least frosting. At her birthday celebration with Brian's family, there were cupcakes piled with the stuff, in an amazingly un-natural blue-purple color. She proceeded to eat all the frosting off two of those. Then, she ran around like a maniac.
I am getting closer and closer to healed. I walk primarily with my hot-pink cane, saving the crutches only for longer walks with the dogs. I can get on the floor, and pick Kinnie up. I can do some cleaning around the house, get to the grocery store, and change diapers again. Normalcy seems to be returning, slowly but surely.
Kinnie has continued to be a champion through this experience. My worries prior to surgery and recovery have not become realities. She has, in many ways, remained a Mommy's girl. And, all the time that I was not able to be right there with her taught her that Daddy is pretty incredible, too. She has become more self sufficient. She plays quietly, every once in a while, on her own. When she accompanied my mom and me to my post-op appointment this week, I asked her what she wanted to tell the doctor. She said, "make Mommy's owie all better." She kisses my leg on a daily basis to achieve that end.
Pride, I have heard, can be sinful. But certainly not this kind. My heart swells when she says "thank you Mama" after I hand her juice, when she remembers that markers only go on paper, when she does something to make us laugh, when she gives her loved ones "big squeezes." So many people have remarked that the time goes so fast. But I think as I make the effort to be present every day, to attend to all the joys and beautiful moments, time almost slows down. I am grateful, grateful, grateful, down to the core of my soul. I never knew I could love this much.
Monday, June 25, 2012
I just want to go on a real walk...
I recognize that I have a tendency to write when I am struggling, and not so much when things are relatively easy. I preface this entry in this way because I am inpatient and frustrated today, but I want it to be clear that this has not been my day-to-day experience. But with that said...
I am SO ready to be back to "normal." I was thinking that this feels as though it has been the longest three weeks of my life- then remembered that it has actually been 5 weeks of being laid up. If things had gone as planned the end of my recovery would be near. As it is, I'm halfway. And, today, I'm not in the "glass half full" frame of mind.
I am tired of taking pain medication, which either makes my head fuzzy or upsets my stomach. I am not in terrible pain, but in order to be up and moving, some level of pain management is necessary. I am tired of being tired. I want to have the endurance I did before, able to walk for miles, adventure, without feeling the exhaustion that follows me right now. I want to go to the dog park. I want to grocery shop. I want to vacuum. I want to wear something other than sweatpants. I want to sleep through the night. I want to be able to help Brian. I'm almost to the point of saying I want to go to work. Almost.
I know I'm whining. And I have so much more for which to be grateful. I finished p/t last week, and my therapist said I can use just one crutch or a cane. So, Kinnie, my mom and I went to buy a cane. I let Kinnie choose one, and I should have known I would end up with hot pink. But I have learned that the transition to a lesser walking aid is slow. I use one crutch and the cane around the house. But my leg is weak. And going out without both crutches is too risky. Four days ago, I attempted a full step on my leg without any assistance, and it almost gave out. Today, I am able to take short steps on it. So progress is happening. It's just slow.
Kinnie and I have invented many games which only require my sitting and dancing with the top half of my body. She cuddles me, and asks for me. When I'm resting in bed upstairs, I'll hear her stomp up the stairs and say "I'm goin' to see Mommy." We sing songs. She has many favorites, though I think Mr. Roger's neighborhood is the current most favorite. She does not listen to me as well as she used to. This evening, while eating dinner, she put her hand in her spinach and starting playing. When I asked her to stop, she refused. I think she knows I can't quite chase her down. She's not listening to anybody all that well now. She is, after all, two years old. We have, occasionally, been taking naps together in my bed. That might be the best part of this whole thing. I don't really sleep. I just lie there and watch her.
I have been running some errands and even made it to a dinner party last weekend. We are going out of town this coming weekend for a family reunion. I will be glad for the break from day-to-day monotony at home right now. But also disappointed that I'll still be limited. I want to go for a hike, so bad.
I remind myself that all this is temporary. And, that really, I am blessed. Because there is an end to this challenge in sight. Sometimes it just feels so far away. I am connected to other hip replacement patients through a forum, and there are a few who have suffered so many more complications than me. This, too, shall pass. Patience, patience, patience...
I am SO ready to be back to "normal." I was thinking that this feels as though it has been the longest three weeks of my life- then remembered that it has actually been 5 weeks of being laid up. If things had gone as planned the end of my recovery would be near. As it is, I'm halfway. And, today, I'm not in the "glass half full" frame of mind.
I am tired of taking pain medication, which either makes my head fuzzy or upsets my stomach. I am not in terrible pain, but in order to be up and moving, some level of pain management is necessary. I am tired of being tired. I want to have the endurance I did before, able to walk for miles, adventure, without feeling the exhaustion that follows me right now. I want to go to the dog park. I want to grocery shop. I want to vacuum. I want to wear something other than sweatpants. I want to sleep through the night. I want to be able to help Brian. I'm almost to the point of saying I want to go to work. Almost.
I know I'm whining. And I have so much more for which to be grateful. I finished p/t last week, and my therapist said I can use just one crutch or a cane. So, Kinnie, my mom and I went to buy a cane. I let Kinnie choose one, and I should have known I would end up with hot pink. But I have learned that the transition to a lesser walking aid is slow. I use one crutch and the cane around the house. But my leg is weak. And going out without both crutches is too risky. Four days ago, I attempted a full step on my leg without any assistance, and it almost gave out. Today, I am able to take short steps on it. So progress is happening. It's just slow.
Kinnie and I have invented many games which only require my sitting and dancing with the top half of my body. She cuddles me, and asks for me. When I'm resting in bed upstairs, I'll hear her stomp up the stairs and say "I'm goin' to see Mommy." We sing songs. She has many favorites, though I think Mr. Roger's neighborhood is the current most favorite. She does not listen to me as well as she used to. This evening, while eating dinner, she put her hand in her spinach and starting playing. When I asked her to stop, she refused. I think she knows I can't quite chase her down. She's not listening to anybody all that well now. She is, after all, two years old. We have, occasionally, been taking naps together in my bed. That might be the best part of this whole thing. I don't really sleep. I just lie there and watch her.
I have been running some errands and even made it to a dinner party last weekend. We are going out of town this coming weekend for a family reunion. I will be glad for the break from day-to-day monotony at home right now. But also disappointed that I'll still be limited. I want to go for a hike, so bad.
I remind myself that all this is temporary. And, that really, I am blessed. Because there is an end to this challenge in sight. Sometimes it just feels so far away. I am connected to other hip replacement patients through a forum, and there are a few who have suffered so many more complications than me. This, too, shall pass. Patience, patience, patience...
Monday, June 11, 2012
More lessons
Bri and Kinnie just left for the day. Brian has to work, and Kinnie is going to daycare. She could stay home with my mom and me, but we think it's probably good for her to maintain some kind of routine. Brian came up to our room to wish me a good day, and I heard Kin heading up the stairs, too. I said, "Kinnie, come give Mommy a kiss," to which she responded "I don wanna give Mommy kiss." Bri then said, "Can you say 'I love you Mommy'?" Kinnie's reply? "I don wanna say I wuv you Mommy." Think I have a two-year-old???
Had I only required one surgery, today would mark the halfway mark in my recovery. Instead, I'm one week in. I try not to focus on that, but there are definitely moments in which I feel the frustration. I miss "normal life." Yesterday, my brother asked what I want to do the most. And the answer consists of the little things. I hate not being able to go out for walks. I miss giving Kinnie her bath. I would like to clean my house (okay, maybe "like" is a little strong on that one). I want to be able to help Brian with all the tasks that he has taken over. He is working so hard, and I know he is tired. I can't wait to go to the zoo, and experience the new things that Kinnie is doing everyday. Since my first surgery, 3 weeks ago, she has been to the pool, her first Rockies game, the aquarium. I am so glad she is doing these things and is not held back by my recovery- I just want to be a part of it.
It's funny how life's experiences often bring lessons in gratitude. You can bet that when I am healed, and am able to participate, it will mean that much more to me.
Had I only required one surgery, today would mark the halfway mark in my recovery. Instead, I'm one week in. I try not to focus on that, but there are definitely moments in which I feel the frustration. I miss "normal life." Yesterday, my brother asked what I want to do the most. And the answer consists of the little things. I hate not being able to go out for walks. I miss giving Kinnie her bath. I would like to clean my house (okay, maybe "like" is a little strong on that one). I want to be able to help Brian with all the tasks that he has taken over. He is working so hard, and I know he is tired. I can't wait to go to the zoo, and experience the new things that Kinnie is doing everyday. Since my first surgery, 3 weeks ago, she has been to the pool, her first Rockies game, the aquarium. I am so glad she is doing these things and is not held back by my recovery- I just want to be a part of it.
It's funny how life's experiences often bring lessons in gratitude. You can bet that when I am healed, and am able to participate, it will mean that much more to me.
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