Horrible Nightmare

Last week I had to go to the doctor for my hip.  While I was there, something horrific happened.

B was badly injured training at a live fire drill.

One minute we were texting each other about my hip, he said that he had to go drill, next thing I know my phone was going crazy as he had fallen trying to force open door as part of their training. When he fell he broke his leg.

Seeing the text that he was hurt but not knowing what was happening was terrifying. Not being able to help was frustrating.

As a mother, my job is to fix things. Make things better.  There is nothing that I can do to help him. Nothing I can do to make it better.  All I could do was go there and be there.

The break was bad enough and in a place that required surgery, I have had a lot of surgery, but waiting for someone to have surgery is something I have less experience with.  Sitting there, watching the screen with his case--- waiting for screen to advance to "surgery complete".

B's job has always scared me- I love and respect what he does, but it scares me.  Because he could so quickly be injured. Nothing is a guarantee.  Every time we talk we end it with "I love you, be safe".  I will not let him off the phone until he replies "I always am".

It has been hard for the kids- he is like superman.  He comes and fixes things and saves the day. His job is actually to save people.  He is not here a lot but when he is he is fantastic with them.  No one gets a better welcome than when daddy gets here.

Truth be told, I am a little jealous about how the kids are so interested in helping him. When I get hurt or have surgery nothing changes, the requests keep coming: "mama what's for dinner??" "where is my shirt?" B gets hurt--- totally different story- they are all over him helping.  Which, honestly is good.  He is dad- and a pretty darn awesome one.

Seeing the message that B was hurt was the most horrifying thing. My stomach dropped a million miles, I started sweating, I was sick to my stomach.  He annoys the crap out of me and irritates me beyond belief, but I love him.

When the doctor told me that he did need surgery, I got light headed--- and its not my leg! A doctor can tell me I need surgery and that is fine, I can deal, but not someone I care about, that makes it scary!

I do have new respect for what B had to endure in the waiting room for me- my surgeries were much longer and I have no idea how he managed.  Being the one unconscious is much much easier.

When he is better, I will have to find something new to say other than "I love you, be safe" because much like the kids-- he clearly doesn't listen.

I am thankful that he will heal.  I am thankful for my sister who saved the day. I am thankful.

Positive change

Typically, I am awful about dealing with change. When we remodeled the kitchen when I was a child, I cried for weeks.  When my mom got braces, I cried.  When my mom cut her hair I cried. Schedule changes are rough for me too.

For the past few years pole had been my refuge. My escape hatch from a busy life.  When things were rough I could count on pole to spin me back into a good mood.  Then I got sick. Really sick. I had surgeries. And more surgeries. I didn't get all the way better, I would get marginally better, then get sick again.  I had another baby. I got sicker. More surgeries.

Finally, I am getting better.  I am healthier.  But when I started back on the pole- so much that I took for granted was so hard, and it was defeating. I know that I could do something-- at one point- but now I am not strong enough anymore.  For a few weeks this was killing me.  It was depressing. It was dragging me down.

But I noticed tonight- my body is changing again, it is getting stronger. My muscles are coming back.  My flexibility is coming back.  I am not where I was, but soon I will be, I have to keep working at it.

So I owe heaps of thanks to Kymba of Kymberly's Aerial Pole Art and Fitness for sticking with me and showing me the joy in pole again.  While helping me get my butt back in shape.

Oh Dear. Utah. Scary. brain dump

This past September was the 15th anniversary of coming back from Utah.  This has been the first year that I have not spent the day curled up in a fetal position waiting for the day to pass.  I actually only realized the date when I had yet another one of my nightmares about Utah.  Yes, I still have them with some regularity.

This morning, I looked at Princess and almost died. She is growing- up, she is not my little girl who chases geese and loves to swing at the park. It dawned on me, when I was her age I was already in the midst of an eating disorder.  A diagnosable eating disorder.

She is such an amazing person, smart, caring, strong, thoughtful, and kind.  I never want her to hurt like that.  I never want her to feel like she is not not enough just as she is.  She is special and unique and fantastic.  How can I protect her from this?  How can I keep her safe from that trip in a fun-house mirror. 

Well this is awkward still.

There have been some big changes around our household since the summer.  That are leading me to the conclusion it is time to move. 

I have talked about some of the awkwardness in our neighborhood after the DCFS spat of the summer.  I am worried about the summer.  Really worried.

We have started considering moving.  The DCFS thing is part of the reason we are seriously considering moving.  We do need more space and another bathroom.

Our neighborhood is great, and I adore (most) of our neighbors.  We have great friends, a great community, and wonderful resources and leaving that will be heartbreaking.  However, I no longer feel secure around one person.  I find myself dealing with far too much anxiety and unhappiness over it, wondering if she is again judging myself, my parenting, or my children etc.  Added to the fact, she has not made one friendly or neighborly gesture in the six months since this has happened.

As much as I hate to admit it, I am holding a grudge against her-- a strong angry-- hurt grudge.  I never thought I'd say it, but I am totally on B's side on this one.

Would offering to have a cup of tea/coffee and chat help resolve this?? The awful feeling is just, well, awful.  Neighborhoods shouldn't be like this. This is not community.  This is not the feeling I want to live with nor is it the atmosphere that I want to raise my children in.

Conversely, in a self righteous tone- we shouldn't be the ones to run away.  We didn't do anything wrong.  The children are loved and adored.

So, in the coming season we will be house hunting and preparing to move.  It is a scary prospect. But also really exciting to thing of having more room and more possibilities.  I hope and pray we find the right house with great neighbors where we can feel safe and secure again.