Thursday, June 22, 2017

It's All Temporary. Until It's Not.

The effects of the magnesium cotrate drink I ingested for a colonoscopy at 33: temporary
The feeling of the paper pants with a bum flap on my skin: temporary
Remembering the experience: permanent

Tears streamed down both sides of my face last night going from the inner corners to the outer corners of my eyes and sliding down into my ears and onto my pillow. I don't know why I was crying. It was only Wednesday and I didn't think I would make it through the week.

We got back from our Instagram worthy trip to New Zealand on Saturday. I was really looking forward to a day of rest and secretly a break from the kids.

Sunday was Fathers Day! David had staff duty! (An army term for when they have to essentially be at work for 24 hours in case of emergency.)

That day sucked. I wasn't prepared for celebrating David except for the record I secretly bought him in NZ that was only sort-of on his list. They didn't have any of his first pick choices. I didn't make him breakfast, we ate on post for lunch, and I halfway made dinner and dessert. I was tired and full of anxiety in anticipating the week ahead when he would be gone to France. This always happens. Usually I have more time to process him being gone and one day, Fathers Day, was not enough.
He left Monday.

While in New Zealand I jokingly called "Not it!" To taking Sadie to her orthopedic appointment when we returned home. We had removed her cast temporarily (which was split for possible swelling) so she could thoroughly enjoy the thermal pools in Hamner Springs. I was not looking forward to explaining that to her doctor. I was terrified of the Guilt with a capital G that comes from doctors. The appointment was Monday.

It was a lot of fun taking her in and trying to explain how we lost her crutches at a bus stop and since then she'd been getting around rather well hopping like a bunny with one leg. To which I promptly received an anecdotal story from the doctor in which she broke her ankle as a kid and hopped on her other which she then sprained. From hopping. 

Otherwise the appointment was fine. The Guilt inflicted was minimal. I didn't even receive questions as to why there was a sock UNDER the cast (it's winter in NZ and her toesies were cold) nor did they ask why It had been removed. They simply placed another one and handed over a new set of crutches with better instructions than YouTube had offered for climbing stairs.

Tuesday was okay. We didn't do much. Thankfully. I still put on a bra and some mascara (because Italians are always dressed) in order to go pick up my drink of death for my appointment the next day. We all hobbled into the farmacia where I clumsily asked for one of four choices in drinks. I pointed to the one with the least amount of litres to drink. She handed it over with no instructions as how to consume it.

Went home. Ate my last supper (rice, oil, and cheese) and went on to well, you know. I tried to sleep and told my kids they had to fend for themselves.

Next day was the day. This was yesterday. My dear friends really came to my aid. My neighbour watched the girls while my other friend drove me to the appointment. We did a lot of waiting. The best part of the appointment was the tall, bearded doctors and the Italians obsessing over Sparkles' talent for knitting. I don't think they know what it is.

The worst part was everything else. Awful. It was awful. The day was made better by homemade potato soup and banana splits and an episode of The Bachelorette. The good didn't last long before the small humans were wailing for me to join them upstairs.

This recap of the week doesn't even include the times where we had really intense freakouts from each child over something or another. Or the broken glass, the spilled Nerds, stepped on cereal, hurt feelings, body mousse in the hair at extreme amounts, smeared lipstick and mascara, croup coughing, etc.

In bed last night I told myself I didn't want to do this anymore. This is not what I signed up for. 

Life is not all beautiful and full of white space like we often see on Instagram and Facebook. Can we try to remember that more often? Or maybe I need the reminder for myself and this is my way of doing it. 

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