MVP

Today, my youngest son Charlie {8months} underwent minor surgery.  In technical terms, he had a hernia that needed repair and an undescended testicle that needed to, well, descend.  In my terms... he had ball surgery. 

And while, from the outside, this may not have seemed like a big deal to me, I assure you that if you've had a conversation with me in the last week...part of me wasn't listening.  Because this day has been lurking in the back of my mind. And while I did my best to make ball jokes{there are a lot, by the way} and distract myself with whatever could take my mind off of it, there was no avoiding today.

But this post isn't really about me somehow keeping it together right up until it was time to give him "hugs and kisses" goodbye before the surgery, and how I knew if I did I would lose it completely so I just said "I can't..." and let my husband do it.  Or how I nearly bit my lip in half waiting the hour that it took for the doctor to do the job.  Or how every time I looked at my phone and saw a message that asked "how are you?" tears would well up because I knew I needed to say "I'm okay."

 

This post is really a shout out to all of the parents who have waited.  Waited to be called.  Waited for answers.  Waited for doctors.  Waited for test results.  Waited for surgery to end and their child to wake up.  Waited hours, weeks, months or years for their child to recover. 

This post is a shout out to any parent who has ever had the courage to consider the worst case scenario, and the faith to hope for better. 

For any parent who has wondered when things will be "normal" again. 

To parents who sit, stand or pace through waiting room chatter while imagining every step of the procedure your child is sleeping through.

To any parent who would gladly take the place of their child in the hospital bed or the operating table.

To any parent with more than a ball on the line.  Where the best case scenario is anyone else's worst nightmare.

To parents who move mountains to make sure their child gets what they need.

To parents who ask God "why?" Who ask nurses "how much longer?" and who ask doctors "what next?"

For parents who spend more time in the hospital than at home.

For parents who worry...because our worry is love under pressure.

 

I know that my day was just a taste of what some experience, and in the words of one of those extraordinary kind of parents that I am lucky enough to know,

"Our strength comes from the Lord."

 

Mama called the doctor and the doctor said....

A sick family is one of the many Mommy Rights of Passage.  Kids get sick, then because you can't keep from kissing, hugging, and making general physical contact with them, the parents get sick as well.  Now, myself, I am a tough-it-out-no-drugs-necessary kind of gal, but that kind of thinking doesn't really go over well with children.  They tend to refuse to sleep, refuse to eat, and generally refuse to behave like normal humans when they get sick.  So I was forced to make an appointment.  And taking more than one child to the doctor's office is no small feat.  I'm not sure if you are aware, but going to the doctor requires a lot of waiting, and this is something that neither I nor my children are fond of.  But we did it.  For the betterment of our sanity, we waited, we were seen, noses were checked, lungs were listened to, weight was measured, meds were given, and we were on our way. 

Cut to two days later when my husband falls ill.

And then one by one, our family falls victim to what I call the "crud." I think I'm out of the woods, escaped by the hair on my nose {that's an strange saying, no?}, when BAM, it hits. 

I take some time to sulk about it, but the after a few days of next to no sleep between the coughs of my husband and the cries of my children, I'm just pissed. How dare this thing come at me?!  I don't have time to be sick!

I medicate via over the counter daytime/nighttime whatever, hoping something will put a dent in this thing....nothing.

I try to tell myself I'm fine, and decide to go to a hometown concert and enjoy myself over the weekend, and it all caught up with me.  In the form of a blackout.  Yep.  I was just standing around, chatting, enjoying myself by the tour bus of Dustin Lynch and the next thing I know, I'm on the ground looking up at worried faces.

You know that saying "The bigger they are, the harder they fall" well that would be true.  Falling as an adult sucks.  I definitely felt like I got hit by a small car.  Okay, maybe just a go-cart, but you get the idea.  If it weren't for the construction barrel behind me, I may have had some awesome skull stitches to brag about, but I'll be thankful for the lack of blood that was shed.
However, the night was not a total bust, as I did get to meet Dustin...

and yes...he's just as amazing in person.  And no, he didn't see me faint.  Thank you, God.
 

But I woke up on Monday feeling like a hot mess, and realized I needed to go to the doctor.  I also realized that my kids needed to go back to the doctor because they had finished their meds with no signs of improvement.

Why does everything seem impossible when you are sick?  Sick kids are bad enough, but when your own body is crying for help and rest, caring for little ones is like climbing Mt. Everest.  I sat and sulked for a moment wondering how I would get it all done, then took a deep breath and made the appointments.  I went first to find out I was severely dehydrated.  Turns out you should drink a lot of fluids when you're sick. 

You heard it here first, and you're welcome.

Anyhow, 2 bottles of water, 2 shots, an EKG {just to be safe}, 2 prescriptions {big shout out to Codeine cough syrup}, and 2 hours later I was on my way home only to face another appointment for the boys.

Thank goodness I had the help of my husband and mother-in-law because things like standing and walking were a little tricky that day.  But we were all sent home with new prescriptions for the boys, and that was a week ago.  They are still sick.  As I'm typing this, I'm listening to the baby cough over the monitor. 

I have always taken the attitude that doctor knows best.  Well, this mom is feeling a bit different a month later.  That doctor better hit us up with the best she's got, because the Watsons are ready to say goodbye to Mr. Crud.  Little Charlie is due for surgery next week {more to come on that later} and they won't operate if he's sick.  Needless to say, I'm ready to get that surgery behind us, so I need him to be well!!  So looks like mama's gonna call the doctor...again.



Mondays Are Dumb

 

....And I know that every working person would agree with me, but there's a whole other dimension to Mondays as a SAHM.  And this Monday is no exception.  My husband, who I miss terribly as of recent, is back at work.  My working friends are back to their jobs, and I should be back to mine.  Well, Maybe I should back up and start with the weekend. 

Saturday, we packed up our sad sick family and ventured home to Normandy Tn.  Yes, we are sick.  All of us.  Have been for a month.  That may be a whole other post.  Anyhow, I went back and forth about whether or not to go and subject the boys to the cold weather...blah blah blah.  But in the end I decided that I was tired of hibernating at home waiting for us to get well.  That only assured cabin fever with a side of short temper, and down home backwoods is usually, for me, a fast track to sanity.  There's something about being home that takes me back to what's important, and there's no room for fast-paced living around a fire pit.  So the fire pit, hot stew, cornbread, sweet tea, marshmallows, firearms {yes, we shoot guns} and a general attitude of "who cares?" won out.

 

 

 

But just like any vacation {because that's what it is, in a way} you pay for it doubly when you return home, and that is just what happened.  There's a laundry list of things to do, put away, catch up on and get in order, but between the packing, unpacking, driving and the non-sleeping that occurred {ahem, sick kids}, I have zero energy or motivation to do any of it.  So here I sit, at 10something AM, still in sweatpants and glasses, blogging away while all those things sit and wait for me. 

And the difference now as opposed to being a teacher, is that as a teacher, I had no choice.  My body got up, got ready, got going and did its job because that's what needed to be done.  I got there at the same time every day.  I would talk to the same people every morning, cheer up as my coffee kicked in, plan my lesson, make my copies, and run my day the same as always.  I would pass fellow teachers in the hall and we would share a look that silently expressed how we couldn't wait until 3:15pm, and somehow, we would.  The last bell would always ring, and the day would be over.

 

But at home, all the lines are blurred.  Productivity is relative. 

Heck, everything around here is relative. 

There are no absolutes.  No black and white.  No test scores.  No evaluations.  No collaborating.  No grumpy bosses.  No emails to answer.  No deadlines.  And nothing is EVER the same.  The kids are different every day.  So a large part of me flounders in these kind of loosy goosie situations.  A part of me needs routine and pressure to produce quality work.  And I've found that it comes in waves.  So...I just wait for the wave.  And I ride it for as long as I can when it comes.  However, on Mondays, those waves are few and far between. 

But maybe that's the beauty of Monday.  There is a whole week ahead of you waiting to be spent, and being a professional procrastinator {insert a curtsy of acknowledgement}, I can convince myself that I have 4 more days to prepare for the next weekend.  Yeah, I've got time.  I'll get it done tomorrow.  So, today, I have a serious case of the Mondays.  And my prescription is a second cup of coffee, more cuddle time with a certain 3 year old and an episode of Little Bill, a really hot shower, and a big pot of soup.  Take that, Monday.

Life After Reset

I can't believe it's been a month since I hit Reset! The time has flown by, and I haven't really had time to collect my thoughts so I'll just dump them all here.

-After the dust of a third birthday settled, I focused all of my effort on a cleanse.  I had come to the peak of unhealthy eating, and I knew the rest of the ride would be all downhill to Chubby Town if I didn't do something...and fast.  So after reading an article about 8 ingredients you don't want to see on your food's label, I realized most of our pantry is full of cancer.  Preservatives, additives, dyes, and other harmful chemicals. This article scared me into being more mindful of the things I put into mine and my family's bodies.  I am starting with baby steps.  Obviously avoiding boxed and packaged anything as much as possible.  Fruit at least once a day.  Vegetable(s) at least once a day.  I switched to Hormel deli meat {no preservatives, additives}.  No more dark colored sodas for me {my husband not-so-much}.  Switched to white American cheese {no dyes}.  Switched to natural colored and flavored potato chips {chips in our house is a non negotiable. It's kind of our thing}.  I'm taking time to plan home cooked meals, and I took a cue from a friend and started Soup Sunday.  I make a large batch of soup from scratch each Sunday, and we eat the leftovers during the week. Small steps for some, but big for me!  Learning to pull together a meal from beginning to end with two kids on two different schedules is a challenge, but planning is the key.

 

-Before I made these changes, I decided that I needed a fresh start. A new perspective. And a cleanse seemed like a good way to jump start my new healthy initiative. And let me tell you, a cleanse isn't for the faint of heart {or digestive tract, for that matter}.  I'll break it down for you, but please know, my research was minimal and consisted of reading a few different internet articles.  I am by no means a medical expert, and I didn't see one before doing this.  I just did it. 

Cause I'm a risk-taker like that. 

So, for three days I ate only fruit/vegetables and drank only water.  And it sucked....but it did the job. I felt better and was ready to eat cleaner. AND it forced me to drink water, which I never do.  I hate water...well I used to anyway.  Now I kind of like it.  Mostly because I saw and felt such a difference.  I don't get awful headaches like I used to.  I feel fuller but I am less bloated.  I have more energy, and my skin looks better.  Which leads me to...

-I stopped wearing foundation.  And before you gasp in horror, know that this doesn't mean I stopped wearing all makeup.  I still use a little mascara and lip gloss and maybe some eye shadow {above} if I'm going out...but that's it.  Once I realized how great my skin looks when I take care of it and take care of myself, I thought why cover it up?  It's me, after all.  And I need to be okay with me. And I have to say, it's freeing. 

 

 -For the first time in 6 months, I had a few days with just Charlie.  Carter spent some time with my parents, and Daniel was out of town on business, so me and Charlie had quality time together.  And I have to say, it was pretty sweet.  He's such a happy baby, and it was good to have him all to myself.  It's hard to have guilt-free one-on-one snuggle/tickle/talk time when there is a three year old paying very close attention to your every move.  Carter tends to get the jealous eyes {understandable}, so I try to keep the mommy affection evenly spread.  But for 3 days he got all of my time, and I'm certain he ate every bit of it up.  It also reminded me how things are with just one child.  It seems so easy to only have one now, but when one was all I knew...it was all I could handle.  *shrug* You live, you learn, I guess.

 

-I find myself dropping everything I'm doing to answer Carter's questions, play his games, or just to pay attention to him. The whole goal of hitting Reset was to quit working on auto-pilot.  So chores may get interrupted, and my type A need to finish a project from start to finish screams in agony each time I step away to play, but my time with him is more important.  And after celebrating him being 3, I've realized those things can wait.  His childhood won't.

 

-I've also been making time for the Lord EVERY day, but not just prayer or turning on worship music, but also reading His word.  It's not always easy, and sometimes I just don't want to.  But I've found that those are the days that I need it most.  And he is faithful to show up every time.  And as I become more familiar with the Bible, I find myself remembering specific verses and standing on them.  My grace is sufficient.  As I was with Moses, so I am with you.  I will never forsake you.  Do not be anxious about anything...it has taken me a long time to find interest and comfort in the Bible, and it has never been a strong area for me as a christian.  But I'm working on it.  One verse at a time.

 

I'm finding that being a SAHM just gives me more time to fill with distractions.  So I'm doing my best to eliminate the static and focus on what's important to Him.  I'm sure my life will be full of Resets, and this one is proving to be a good first.