Sometimes, I Talk to Stangers

Today, I was supposed to do nothing. Life has been incredibly busy lately, and I needed a "me" day. I started feeling guilty though, because when our lives get busy, Ginger doesn't get a lot of outside run around time. So, at 1100, I loaded her up in the back of the Suburban, and headed to the puppy park. She ran, and sniffed, as the only dog there for half an hour. Then, an old guy and his old dog showed up, and Ginger was excited to have another pup to play with.
I'm not usually a huge fan of talking with people I don't know, but this guy reminded me a lot of my Dad. So, the man and I began a conversation while Ginger and his dog, Lucky, played together. We talked about where we each came from, where he and his wife are settled now, where Tom and I want to be when he retires, and about his Army career. We found commonality in hunting and fishing, and Northern Idaho. One of his buddies had been Cadre at U of I ROTC quite a while back, and he and his wife visited them while on leave, and spent a weekend in Couer d' Alene. We talked about his walks with his dog every day, and how much they need and use each other to get out of the house. An hour later, when his wife called to be picked up from the commissary with their groceries, we wished each other a good afternoon and parted ways.
It was nothing life-altering or crazy, it was just nice talking to him, like talking to my dad. I'm really glad I chose to take Ginger to the puppy park today. She got to run and have fun with another pup, and I got to talk with a nice, old guy and that makes me happy.

Sometimes Super Mom Isn't So Super

"You never know how strong you are, 

until being strong is the only choice you have."

I have a serious love/hate relationship with this saying. I get it, and I believe it. When there is no other choice than to buck up and face something head on, do it.

My problem lies with when you felt that you've been nothing but strong for as long as you can remember, sometimes you just need to totally lose your shit for a minute...or five. I do this, a lot more than people realize. I've been commended by many, saying how strong I am to do what I've done for Alex, or the fact that I live more than one thousand miles away from Sean nine months out of the year. Or, that I married a soldier, and moved away from everything that I have ever known. Most of the time, when I am given a complement about how I deal with these things, I just smile and say, "Thank you." Some days, though, aren't as easy. 

Sometimes, there are days on end when Alex doesn't have overnight care and I'm running on six hours of sleep for the last three days, or work is keeping Tom really long hours, or I haven't talked to Sean in a week, and sometimes it's just because the sun came up, that it's not easy. It's hard. Really hard. And, it sucks. A lot. I just want to scream, cry and throw myself on the floor in a tantrum that would impress a two year-old. These days usually come in clusters, I'll have three or four meltdowns and then be good again for a while. The last 72 hours has proven to be the toughest times I've had in a while, and I lost it. Right in the middle of everything.

Osteomyelitis of the thumb. OUCH!

A while back, Alex bit her thumb during a seizure. She clamped down on her right thumb for the duration of a three minute seizure, breaking the skin, and nearly fracturing the bone. That wasn't so great on it's own, but fast-forward to Wednesday evening, when Sean (here for his Spring Break,) Mom, Alex & I are headed home from horseback riding...Alex's thumb has begun to swell, a little bit at school that afternoon, but by the time we get back from the stables, it had doubled in size, and looks like it hurts quite a bit. We go to Evan's Army Hospital, where it is determined she probably has osteomyelitis. They want to transfer us to Memorial Hospital and have her admitted, and possibly do surgery. I said, "Fine, but we're going POV." I had to stop at the house to pick up meds, her bi-pap machine and get a few days worth of clothes for both of us. And, tell Sean. He was heart-broken, completely upset by the fact that I wasn't going to be home to tuck him in and his sister was going to have to have surgery. Seeing him so upset sent me over the edge.

Calvin is the best! This sums up how I feel when I lose it.

So, there, in Alex's room, at ten o'clock at night, while Tom was helping gather things up to go to the hospital, I lost it worse than I have in a long time. I wasn't even close to pretty, controlled or "in a pile." I did the ugly cry. The kind where tears and snot mix, while trying to say what's wrong, and all that comes out is this strange gasping noise because I'm crying so hard I'm damn near hyperventilating. I'm scared that Alex is going to have to go under anesthesia for the second time in two weeks, that she has to have surgery, and that I'm going to miss time with Sean. It wasn't fair, and I was done. In between sobs, gasps, grunts and tears, Tom took my hands, breathed with me and got me calmed down. He reassured me that he and Mom would be there to help and coordinate, and I wouldn't miss much, if any time with Sean, and that Alex was going to be alright. I was able to pull it back together, feeling a little better because I knew that I had the help and support that we would need, and because I was able to get all of that emotion out. I need to come uncorked every once in a while to stay normal. Sometimes it comes in the form of a snarky "Throat Punch Thursday" post on Facebook, where friends and I trade stories of idiotic encounters, and a good laugh. Sometimes it's me tackling the Incline all by myself, thinking about nothing, everything and letting everything out through the pain in my legs on the way up the 2,090 foot vertical increase in less than a mile, and the thoughts I have running down Barr Trail. At this particular moment, I needed to be a mess, and not strong. Most of all, I needed to be able to let it out and hand off all of everything that had been building up, and luckily, I can do that with Tom. He kicks ass, on a regular basis. I'm glad my mom was here to help, because, well, sometimes I need my mom, even at the age of 35.

So, since I know some of you will wonder...Alex had surgery on Saturday morning, and is on a course of IV and oral (aka g-tube) antibiotics, and will be rocking a sweet,semi-soft cast for the next little bit. Her new accessory will, for sure, be blinged out with purple Coban and pink & black zebra print tape. Sean and I didn't lose a minute together, and just when I thought that kid couldn't get anymore cooler/stronger/sweeter, he did, by telling me that he loves his sister and just wants her to feel good. I also did something today I have never, ever done before. I left the hospital before Alex was out of surgery. I wanted to drive my Most Awesome Mom and Super Sean to the airport, so Tom took the reigns and handled recovery, post-op, and getting Amazing Alex back up to her room on the floor.

Alex, not impressed with me taking photos, or her plain-jane soft cast.

This kid, right here, is the Bomb.Sean

I should be good for the next little bit. I can hold it together for quite a while and through an awful lot, but sometimes I'm not so strong. I lose it and cry, scream, and need to be by myself. Luckily, I have great kids and a wonderful family, and it's because of them that this mom can be a Super Mom. So, I encourage you to lose freak out every once in a while, too. It might not be pretty, and it's a little scary to lose (or give away) control, but in my opinion, everyone needs to just breakdown and lose it every so often.