Monday, November 20, 2017

I suck at being still.

The surgery was quick. About an hour. In all we were at the hospital for about 8 hours. It really wasn't a big deal. The pain was, at it's highest, a 6 on a scale of 10. There was some burning when I woke up, nausea, grogginess. For a day or two it was hard to move around. I had lower abdomen pain, things felt like they were shifting. The gas pain was the worst part; in my stomach, in my chest, all the way around my shoulders. They fill you with air when they do laparoscopic surgery and they can't suck all the air out before they close you up. Hence, the gas.

Joining my stretch marks and stretched out belly skin are two one inch scars roughly where I assume my Fallopian tubes used to be. The other incision is inside my belly button. Welcome to the belly party ladies. My swim suit modeling career is probably over.

Now is the hard part. I'm four days post op. When I wake up, I feel totally normal. I have almost no pain. What pain I have feels like muscle soreness which isn't a big deal. So I get up, I get the kids ready, throw dishes in the dishwasher, do some laundry. I suck at being still. So this is me trying to be still. By the time I realized I've done too much, it's too late. So, here I go. Being still. Reading Love Warrior and watching TV. Not doing the pushups or squats I want to do or heading to the grocery store to get Thanksgiving feast ingredients.

The feast will get made and we will be extra thankful this year. Thankful that my mom is here to celebrate with us; last year we were pretty sure she wouldn't be. We'll be thankful for peace of mind. That thanks to doctors and insurance and resources we have a peace of mind knowing that my risk of ovarian cancer is now much less than it was four days ago.

People told me before the surgery that I was 'brave'. I really don't see it as brave. I mean sure, I wasn't that worried about the surgery, but that's only because I'm no stranger to pain and surgery. I see it as lucky. I am so lucky that I GOT to take this step. That I GOT to take care of my future self. That I GOT to take hold of my own preventative care. Everyone should be so lucky. And so thankful.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

'tis the season.

To everything there is a season.

I like white lights. Little white lights. Not the LED kind cause they're too blue. Small white lights. No twinkling required. I'd like them carefully wrapped around our royal palms so it looks like you're pulling into a fancy hotel. I'd like the lights also neatly attached to our roofline so the house's facade is outlined in them. The bushes should be evenly coated in white, tastefully so, of course. For the front door I prefer a full garland with gorgeous satin ribbon and the aforementioned white lights. Really anything that looks like the front of a Grandin Road or Ballard Designs catalog would be perfect. A tree should sit on either side of the front door, decorated like the garland. And a door mat, monogrammed with holiday wishes for our holiday visitors to wipe their feet on as they enter. I'd like that.

To everything there is a season. 

Here's the thing. I'm not in the season of a perfectly decorated, straight off the pages of a magazine, holiday home. And I won't be for a while. A perfectly decorated home with perfectly wrapped trees and magnificent garland isn't my here and now. Know what my kids think of white lights? They think they're boring. And they're right. And thankfully their Dad knows white lights are boring and predictable. While I sit here, he's outside up on a ladder a la Clark W. Griswold Jr., creating the perfect holiday home. There are white lights and green ones and red ones. There are lights that change from red to blue to green. The lights are different sizes and won't ever blink together. A six and a half foot tall Santa will hang from a window ledge and one of those star fall shower light things will project lights all over the house.  Don't forget the light up reindeer grazing off to the side. And the spot lights that will only enhance the holiday splendor that will be our home for the next month. 

If it sounds amazing it's because it is. Right now Christmas is magic. It's wonder and lights and joy and fun. I have years of Christmas decorating when my kids won't look up from their phones for long enough to even appreciate the lights and I can have the catalog house. There will be so many holidays where no one gets excited for a house covered in lights (white or otherwise) and we have to drag them out to pick out the perfect tree. But right now? Right now, they want it to look like Christmas threw up on our house. And they're going to get it. Because it's a season of life; our current season. And it will be over in a blink. 


While we're on the topic of seasons... 
I'm also not in a season where all of my house is ever clean or neat at the same time. If the living room is clean the kitchen is a disaster. If one bathroom is clean the other has toothpaste on the mirror and is out of toilet paper.
This season 60% of my meals are eaten standing up. I'm certain this burns more calories because goodness knows I'm not eating organic, gluten free, hormone free, free range chicken over a bed of organic greens with homemade organic citrus vinaigrette for lunch. It's more like 'oh, kid 3 didn't finish that PB&J, I'll just wolf that down and chase it with a piece of cheese for added protein'. 
I wear real clothes (things that have buttons) maybe twice a week in this season of life. Some of this is by choice because buttons are stupid, but also, it's hot where we live and when I'm barefoot chasing a barefoot two year old down the street, my Paige denim doesn't move like my active wear does. 
I don't pee or shower alone. 
I rarely read because by the time I can sit down and read I'm too tired to keep my eyes open. 
My car is actually a trashcan. 
If my kids get one serving of fruit and one of vegetables a day I've done a really good job. 
This season we eat 80% of our meals on paper and use paper towels as napkins (don't tell me they aren't).
But this season isn't all bad. In fact it's mostly wonderful.  I have big(ger) kids learning the world and a small one with a giant personality. We laugh and we play and for the most part, we are pretty care free. And also, I know it's not permanent.

I know for certain I will miss it when it's gone. I know I will long for the days where I collapse at the end of the day with Mac and cheese in my hair and can't remember when I last showered. I will pine for the days when the kids fight over who gets to sit next to me on the couch even though at least one of the three has been touching me literally all day long. And I will even miss the tantrums so epic I think our windows may shatter at the sound of the screams. So for this season, I'm embracing it and all of its un-showered, under nourished, utter chaos. And who knows, maybe I'll fall in love with the colored lights after all.