Mom to the Screaming Masses

So, About That Injury

 Hopefully, we all remember The Injury, which I think began a downward spiral for my mood. 

(No, faithful reader, I'm not being dramatic.  I really do feel that way.  I adore working out, especially my Muay Thai and Capoeira classes, and having those abruptly yanked from me, plus no ability to walk for stress relief, plus being in constant - and I do mean constant - pain, as well as no ability to sleep due to the (did I mention?) pain, and my entire family and rest of my life falling to hell - well, that's where I am.) 

I tossed in the towel and went to the doctor today. I was, I'll admit, afraid to go.  I really didn't want to hear that anything was wrong. I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up with my leg back the way it was two weeks ago.  But, it wasn't getting better and so I went.  I was, uh, shocked to actually look at my leg - I had no idea, until I sat for the x ray and nurse pointed it out to me, that back of my entire leg, from the knee down past the ankle, is black, blue, green and yellow.  And swollen.  So, so swollen.  Almost double the size of my other calf.

I have a Medial Gastrocnemius tear - or a few.  I tore the calf muscle, as well as the accompanying tendon(s) - not certain how many, as I was (hello!) not listening. And what I thought was a large muscle cramp last month was actually the same injury, but being that I didn't know I'd harmed the muscle, I went back on it too early and that led to this (much worse) injury.  It's a condition called Tennis Leg, which is TOTALLY hysterical, given the fact that I hate tennis.   Want to read more about it, as well as see a picture of my FANTASTIC new accessories?  Look below the fold!

You Made Me Cry

Thank all of you, from the bottom of my battered and fragile heart.  I have, without a doubt, the best readers in the entire blogosphere.  I felt wrapped in comfort yesterday and today, and you have no idea how badly that was needed.

Thank you so much for your lovely emails, your kind comments, and your incredible compliments and SO MUCH CONCERN that it overwhelms me.  Hearing the care that you all expressed for my sanity was balm for my pain, and comfort in what has been an overwhelmingly dark place that came out of literally nowhere, yet in retrospect, has been building forever. I won't explain more, but I think you can get the general idea.

I have spent quite a bit of time in conversation with several key people.  My boss gave me the next two days off from work, with the express desire that I rest and rest and rest.  I spent an hour in the school principal's office and received a fresh perspective on many, many things. 

As much as I don't want to, I've agreed to see a doctor for the injury to my leg.  I'm afraid to do so, mostly because I'm afraid of what will be the outcome.  My mother is an orthopedic nurse, and she recommended a sports medicine doctor who, come to find out, is REALLY widely known and respected. I can't deal with this much pain anymore, and I think if I find out what is wrong, even if it is as terrible as I fear, at least I'll know and I can work towards a solution. Ten days of pain is my final straw.  And I was shocked Monday to see a hand sized bruise of variegated purple and green hues on my back, where I hit the ring when I was hurt.  Seeing that bruise really shook me up and it sank in that I may have really hosed my calf - I hit REALLY hard. 

Depression is a horrible, terrible, awful thing and place.  I'm going to do everything in my power to stay out of the dungeon.

There are going to be several changes in my family over the course of the next few days.  We've had a few serious "Come to Jesus" conversations in the last two days, and I've received some really excellent advice, especially coming from the principal, one of THIRTEEN children.  Her input was valued, and I'll be blogging on it in the coming days.

Breathe in, breathe out.  Take it day by day, minute by minute if necessary. Just keep swimming.  And keep blogging, which keeps me sane.  Thank you all.

Ok - Here's The Deal

I've got a lot of internal drama and angst going on right now. I also have quite the turmoil, because my usual M.O. is to blog about things to help me process, and to obtain feedback that helps me in making decisions. 

But.  My kids read here, my coworkers read here, my kids teachers read here, the staff and administration at both schools read here, my sisters who don't speak to me read here, and anytime that I post something divisive, I get my ass handed to me on a platter.  I also don't need to hear any more negativity.

If Typepad had a password protected option, I'd totally use it.  So I've come up with an alternative.  It's not a very good one, but it's the best I can do.

I wrote a post.  If you want to read it, the stipulation is that I must know you and feel comfortable with spilling my guts.  If you comment here and I know who you are, I'll give you the skinny.  If you have never commented here, or your last comment was, "Hey, you suck!", nice try.

Please, know that I'm in a fragile place right now and do not abuse this. I'm not doing this TO you - I'm trying to help me.  I'm in a bad place right now.  I desperately need some feedback and a voice in the dark, but could not stand to have another blow up. Please.  I'm using my mannerly words and everything.

Making Life (Or At Least Mealtime) Easier, Volume Twenty-Three

I often struggle with trying to find a healthy breakfast that I can grab and run out the door with at the last second.  My favorite breakfasts are healthy, but messy.  It's, uh, kind of difficult to eat eggs or oatmeal at 45 m.p.h. 

But when I saw this recipe in this month's Good Housekeeping, I was intrigued.  At least enough to make them.  And then I ate the entire pan in two days.  They ARE that good. And when I pair them with my beloved fruit and veg smoothie, it's a breakfast you can't beat, nutrition OR taste wise.   

Memo To Self: Listen Before Replying

I was driving my kids around, and my daughter asked me, "Mom, what does CT mean?"

Looking around, I realized that we were driving through an area heavily populated with medical businesses, and surmised that she must have seen the letters CT on one of the signs.  I began to explain:

CT stands for Computed Tomography, which is the fancy term for a CAT scan - remember when your sister had one done?  And then when I had one done?  It looks through your body -"

And then she interrupted me with the classic line I SHOULD have been expecting.  "No, Mom, I meant the kind of CT on the street sign.  I forgot what it means."

COURT.  She means COURT. 

Never explain without clarification.  First rule of parenting.  A rookie mistake.

Kalisah Made Me Do It

I puffy pink heart my friend Kalisah.  I love her more than my luggage, as we quote a beloved movie to each other often.  She is the MOST glamorous person I know.  So when I saw a meme about her husband, I thought, well, it's good enough for Kalisah, therefore I MUST do it TOO.  So, here you go.  Things about me and my husband. 

Look. I KNOW you don't want another meme, but I'm CERTAIN you don't want to hear about the stomach flu any more. Right?  Right.

The answers to these questions are, uh, very illuminating.  Not so much about him, but really about me. As it should be.  As I will one day have tattooed on my wide behind - "It's ALLLLLL about MEEEEEE!!!"

A Shout Out To Local Area Readers

I received an email from Cheryl Tan of WAVY 10, asking for help:

Do you know of any really frugal folks who would be willing to share their secrets with us on camera, for live TV? 

I am, uh, not the most frugal of people.  If you are, can you leave me a comment that I can pass on to the kind WAVY folks?  I'd certainly appreciate any help!

Now, back to Lysoling the house!

(Actually, I'm using diluted Dr. Bronner's.  Yum, peppermint...)

The Jinx Came True

I totally jinxed myself by saying that we'd had no sick days yet this year.

Five minutes after she got to school, one of my daughters was in immediate need of a trip home for a shower.

Yup.  Stomach flu.

One kid already had it this weekend, so, two down and four to go. 

I hate February.

The Daddy Daughter Dinner Dance

This past weekend was the annual Daddy Daughter Dinner Dance at our church/school.  My girls love it and look forward to it every year.  It's a chance for them to dress up, to wear makeup and curl their hair, and to dance with their girlfriends.

(You didn't think that they'd dance with their Daddy, now, did you?  It's almost comical to see all of the Daddy's on the sidelines as their glamorous, fancy daughters whoop it up in the middle of the gym.  The little ones do often dance with Dad, but the bigger girls hang with their friends.)

The dresses were procured, hair primped and curled, makeup applied and jewelry borrowed.  Daddy arrived and picked up his princesses and away they went, leaving me home with the boys.  We didn't do anything special, and at about 8, I left to go pick up the little girls. 

Oh, You Have GOT To Be Kidding Me!

Today, I got off work a bit early and went to the gym.  I caught the second half of a thai boxing class and then the manager of the school gave me a Crossfit work out.  I've been trying, twice a week, to add in the Crossfit stuff.  I'm not happy with the shape that I'm in and want to fix that.  I'm going to Mexico in April, for cripes sake.

The first exercise made me nervous. It's kind of difficult to explain, but it involved a heavy rubber band/pulley type thing. One end was wrapped around my waist and the other end was attached to the boxing ring.  A cone was set halfway down the gym, and the plan was to RUN as fast as I could, pulling against the rubber bands, and touch the cone.  Then run backwards back to the ring and begin again.  DIG.

Except, you know, it didn't work exactly like that.