Good News/Bad News

So... it's been a Good News/Bad News kind of a day in Toddlerville.

• Good News: #Frankenfoot got her stitches out & that means I'm just a day or so away from a full on proper shower (with Hubs standing by)! Everything is healing really well & the x-rays look super good. 
• Bad News: Because everything looks so nice & I'm doing a great job at taking care of it the doc wants me to stay on the #StupidCrutches the full 4 weeks. That means I can stop using them at home on May 1st (if I fudge by 36 hours). And then, maybe, after the visit to her the following Tuesday (May 6th) I can lose the crutches all together.

• Good News: Walking (hopping) home from the doctor I got to see all the lovely Spring flowers. Including these daffodils, which are one of my all time favorite of flowers. 
• Bad News: When I got to my building I was knocked off my crutches & nearly fell down the steps to the sidewalk by someone who was trying to be kind. So I was nearly killed by kindness. 

• Good News: I waited in the lobby to see Hubs & he agreed to pick up a venti frap on his way back from the grocery store so I could drown my sorrows. 
• Bad News: When I got into the apartment my kids were clearly tired but keyed up; no one was listening.  In utter frustration I sent them for quiet time over an hour early. 

I want to cry. I'm tired of not being able to do anything. I don't want to keep hopping around like a manic flamingo. My kids and my Hubs are sick of it too. We all have Spring Fever, and we want to go roll in the grass like happy puppies. 

Here's the thing; days like today I don't want to be the parent. I want to be the child. I want my mother to bring me a special treat - like orange juice & ginger ale - and coloring books. And sit with me and watch old movies. I want my dad to go to the grocery store to pick up something fun for dinner & see flowers or balloons or a stuffed toy that he picks up to make me smile - just to make his little girl feel better. 

But Mom's been gone 10 years now. And Daddy lives in Texas, while I'm up here in the Big Apple. The reality is that I'm the Mommy now. My little people need me to be the grown-up. 

It is difficult, sometimes, to look on the bright side. Even though I know it is only another 10-14 days. Even though I know this is nothing compared to other struggles, including those I've gone through before. I know this mood, this moment will pass. I will buck up, pull up my big girl pants and get over myself. Any minute now...

God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the Courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference.

FrankenFoot as a Harbinger of Spring?

If you know me from other social media you may have seen something about the surgery I had on Friday. My right foot was all jacked up, but they rebuilt it. The goal being to make me stronger, better...

Honestly, this scenario is pretty old hat for me. Both of my knees have been surgically rebuilt. I've had 3 surgeries on each knee. Bones broken & ligaments cut & parts moved around - not replaced - rebuilt. So I understood that this sort of surgical restructuring can work.

In addition, I've had 2 c-sections, my gallbladder removed & 2 surgical breast biopsies. I think that's all, but I forget sometimes. Added up, my times under the knife total double digits, with this being either the eleventh, or twelfth.

Y'all should know by now, this Serendipity persona isn't just for giggles. I am a fairly upbeat person & life is pretty good. I honestly look for the upside, the silver linings, the greater good that can develop from whatever pile of shit life happens to put in my path. And I'm not thinking that's always just a mess of flies.

Naturally, this is a lot harder these days than it was before we became residents of Toddlerville. Back then I practiced yoga 6 days a week, along with mediation & Reiki every day. I was so Zen.

No doubt about it - I'm a bitch way more often now. But I still work like hell to find my balance.

I had this surgery on the anniversary of my father-in-law's passing. That was long before I knew Hubs, of course, but we decided the coincidence was a good thing & he'd be keeping an eye on the surgeon. In hindsight we should've been worried about all the other stuff that could go awry. Without even mentioning that we were unable to coordinate childcare for the afternoon/evening of the procedure, Murphy's law was stretched thin to cover the all that transpired.

FrankenFoot

A few highlights: While I waited for hours in pre-op, without phone or glasses but with an outrageous caffeine withdrawal headache, my surgeons were delayed with car trouble, parking nightmares & missing scrubs. The surgery went without a hitch, but in post-op I discovered the walking boot I was meant to leave the hospital in was MIA. In addition my orders had been mixed up, and I sat around in a wheelchair between recovery stations whilst calls were made trying to work out WTF was happening. Once home, the ice water compression machine I was meant to wear 24/7 quit working the first night.

All of which raised my stress & pain levels - but hey, that's why they give you Percocet, right?

I've been here before - crutches, physically limited, relying on others to help me while I can't stand on my own two feet (pun intended). I know I will heal, and in time the scars will fade & I will be better than before.

The truth is regardless of how mellow I'm trying to be, this surgery still flipped my freak out switch.
Maybe because I'm turning 40 this year & I'm tired of being "rebuilt".
Maybe because I was sick for about 3 weeks, unable to practice my yoga, so I went in with a twisted headspace.
Maybe because my JOB is taking care of my kiddos, and I'm having to ask someone else to do that.

Maybe because I can't pick up & cuddle or in most normal ways physically interact with my children. 

A few minutes ago my Boy was crying & lunged at me wanting Mommy to pick him up. I had to deflect & twist away because I was standing rather unsteadily on only 1 leg. He can knock me over on a normal day & I was afraid we would both fall & get hurt.  He is only 3. I knew by the change in his cry my rejection stung more than the original woe. Seeing my boo-boo photos & understanding he needs to be careful with me,  that knowledge flew out the window when he needed Mommy to make it better.

Ugh. There's nothing for it. It's all a matter of time now. Time for me to heal. Time for me to let go a little more than I'd like. Time for the Rebels to understand I'm not the only sheriff, nor the only healer in town. To everything there is a season, yeah?

Well, if there is a season for everything, Spring is certainly the season of change & hope. Maybe we've just entered a season of change. Maybe this path we are on is headed to unexplored territory in Toddlerville.

As the song goes "now that my life is so rearranged, I know that it's time for a cool change."