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.

"Those" Girls

Sometimes, something happens during a normal day, and it can touch your heart and remind you who is important in your life. That happened to me today, and since life can be busy, messy, crazy and spread out over many miles, I took a moment to reflect and really be grateful for my sisters.

 

"Those" girls...You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones that, with one side-ways glance, can make you shut up, or laugh uncontrollably, the ones that won't let you leave work, even if you've peed your pants. Those girls, that even if you haven't talked in years, because of something stupid, will show up in your daughters hospital room, and those other girls that made it happen. Those girls that you will fly half-way across the country to watch them say, "I do!" on their big day, those girls that helped your mother plan your surprise 16th birthday party. Those girls that you consider more like sisters, than friends. For every female out there reading this, I hope you have at lease one of "those" girls in your life. I consider myself incredibly lucky, because I have three. Three people that I know, no matter what happens or when, I can turn to and they will have my back.

Me, Megan and Jennifer a few days before I moved to Colorado.

Two of those girls, I have been friends with for nearly 25 years and we are still going strong. There is something about these girls that I can't explain...Our ability to pick up where we left off when we last saw one another, be it days or years in between, or the way that we have seen each other at our best, treated them the worst, but yet, would drop everything to be there with them to celebrate or cry. We knew one another when we each had our first kisses, during our awkward junior high phases, and in high school, when  we may have not made the best choices. And then, we got thrown in to the real world, and went our separate ways...some of us still talking, some of us not. Years would pass, and we got together, went to parties, tried to reach out with a phone call and we grew apart and back together again. We have each had our own tragedies that, in one way or another, that we have been there for one another; if not there in person, there with a phone call, and always in the heart. We have seen one another graduate from college, get married, have babies, struggle through sickness and relationship troubles, and have been there for welcome home parties and seen one another off to start new adventures in new parts of the world. We are the kind of friends that you hear people joke about and say, "We'll always be friends because you know too much," and,for that, I am incredibly grateful.

CodyAnn and me on her wedding day. So glad I could be there with her!

The third girl, is much like the first two, but I didn't get to meet her until later in my life. We may not have a 25 year history, yet, but when something really good, or really bad, happens, I want her to know. Immediately. And, even though there aren't twenty-something years of friendship we have spent some quality time together...late nights, early mornings, break-ups, make-ups, getting married, and some the most stressful and rewarding situations I have ever been through. This relationship is a little different than the other ones, though, neither one better or worse, just different. This is because I befriended the first two in grade school, when we were all innocent and didn't have a clue about life, and we grew up, experiencing life together. I met the third one, as a jaded, experienced adult, that was done taking bullshit and no longer had time for fair-weather friends. And, I met her at work...The kind of work that is 24/7/365 and could go from laughter to disaster with the ring of a phone. We worked well together, had similar interests, the same foul mouths, and our friendship has grown from there.
Sometimes I worry I don't reach out to these three girls enough, that I don't tell them how important they are to me as often as I should. I want each of them to know that they have shaped a little of who I am today, and that I hope they will always continue to be a part of my life, and me a part of theirs.
"Those" girls are my sisters, and I love them.