Seven Is A Lucky Number

They are almost the same size!

It has been just over 7 months now since I broke my leg. Initially, the doctor told me that it would take about 6 months before I'd feel back to normal - but apparently he was just kidding. Actually, to be fair, I am doing immensely better than I was 7 months ago. I can walk. I can drive. I can carry my baby up and down stairs. I can do pretty much everything I need to in order to function. My scars are looking much less frankenstein-ish.



But so far, I still can't run farther than half a block. (And, honestly, calling it running is a bit of a stretch.)

Well, well, well. I don't like that voice in my head that tells me I can't do things. So when my friend Jenny wrote on her blog about an upcoming triathlon called TriathaMom and encouraged beginners to give it a shot, I started to think. And that darn voice in my head started to shoot me down every time. It went something like this:

Wow. A triathlon. I wonder if I could do that?

Are you kidding me? You can't run! You haven't ridden a bike in ages! And let's not even get started on the swimming part.

Yeah, I guess. But I looked into this triathlon and it said you could walk the swimming part if you had to because it's in an indoor pool. I can walk in a swimming pool, right?

Wouldn't you feel silly? I mean, walking when everyone around you is swimming? And what about the whole bike thing? You don't even own a bike!

Well, that's true. But ElemenoB does. I could borrow hers. And this triathlon is so low-key that I could just walk the bike if I had to.

Walk a bike for 12 miles? What are you, crazy?!

That does seem kind of crazy, doesn't it. But walking the 5K isn't too crazy.

If you want to just walk the whole thing, what's the point?! Why do it?

Because I like to prove to myself that I can do hard things. That's why. And I don't want to walk every event - but I could if I had to. I would just want to finish. That would be accomplishment enough for me.

So go away, voice in my head. You lose.

You see where this gets me? Now I have to do it. I can't let that negative voice in my head be right. I want to work towards something. I don't want this gimpy leg to control my life. I am going to do this thing. I'm going to run and bike and even put on a swimsuit and get in a pool. I'm going to work like crazy to whip myself into shape to the point where I can at least finish this thing.

TriathaMom? Here I come.

I've Got Answers

Last Tuesday my camo-cast came off. The doctor told me I was free to walk to my heart's content now, using only one crutch. He said I was to be my own physical therapist by doing deep lunges and writing the alphabet in large, swoopy letters with my ankle. Just wear this little brace thingy and all's swell. I was pretty excited by all of this, actually. No physical therapy appointments? I can walk again? Awesome!

Yeah, in theory: awesome. In real life: not happening. Except for the swell part. There's plenty of that going on.

My foot/ankle/leg continue to be puffy, tender, achy, and swollen when not elevated. Heck, even when it is elevated it looks like aliens abducted my formerly normal right foot and replaced it with someone else's. But I'm dealing with it. I'm making myself put pressure on it and stretch those muscles back to where they used to be and I'm doing my best to find the good in everything.

In fact, today I made myself walk to the kitchen using only one crutch in a sort of half-hobble half-hop kind of gait. I then promptly rewarded myself with a bowl of ice cream and a cookie. I'm not going to get THAT kind of awesome treatment at any physical therapy office!

Anyway, between chillin' with my sweet little chub-o, putting myself through physical torture and trying to get my life back to normal, I've been neglecting my blog. Would you mind helping me with that?

Here's what you do:

This week I will leave the comments open on this post for you to ask me questions. Ask me whatever you want, and I will answer. Most answers I'll give in the comments, but some questions I'll answer as a post. Anything you've always wanted to ask me? Ask away! Have a silly/serious/sarcastic question? Every single question will receive an answer.

It's sort of like the Reader Appreciation Day I did last year. (Actually, it's exactly like that. Except for answering in posts, too.)

Ready?

Ask away!

Lessons Learned From My Christmas 'Break'

Here's what I look at all day, every day.

It has been a looooooong week since my ankle surgery.

Unfortunately, my initial tendencies lately are to feel sorry for myself, sitting around on my bed all day. For those of you who think that sounds wonderful, sitting in bed having others attend to you 24/7, it is pretty overrated; especially for someone like myself who likes being independent.

I will admit that the sweet little bundle of beautiful baby boy who rests to my right and shares my confinement does make it more bearable. But still. For example - I used to have free access to the multitude of snacks in my kitchen without anyone having to know of my terrible treat-eating habits. Now if I want one, I have to ask someone to get it for me. This is all fine and good, except that after asking a couple of times I can't bring myself to ask again. "Could you go get mom another plate of cookies from the freezer downstairs? Oh, and a bowl of ice cream?" It just doesn't seem right. I'm sure this is a good thing... but when I just want a chocolate crinkle cookie from my stash in the downstairs freezer and have to ask someone to bring it to me I can guarantee you my stash is being depleted when I'm not looking. Revealing the places where my stash is hidden really stinks.

I think that I have learned a few wonderful lessons this past week, however. It has been a tough one, but a good one. I have mentioned before that we live in an awesome neighborhood. It's like an extension of the family, really. And when something like a broken ankle and a newborn baby happen in the same week, people really want to help. Usually when I have a baby and someone offers to bring us dinner I will tell them that I appreciate the offer but we are fine and have plenty of capable cooks around. Even if I want to accept their offers of baked goods and delicious meals this just seems like the right thing to do. Just say no, a little voice inside my head whispers to me. You are independent! You can do it all! You don't need any help.

That voice is me, the part of me who wants to do it all. The part of me that wants to show the world that no matter how large our family is or what happens to us, we can handle things ourselves. It has been difficult to admit to, but that voice is wrong. Sometimes, it takes a village to love and support a family during a tough time - and this is one of those times.

Not only do I want to accept any and all offers of food and assistance, I sort of need to. I can't even stand for more than a few minutes at a time and even that about kills me, trying to precariously balance on my good foot while holding my broken ankle off the ground. I'm stuck in bed pretty much all of the time unless I am feeling up to making my way to the couch. Allen is busy being mom AND dad when he's home, tending to the housework and the kiddos, and as soon as the teenagers get home from school he's off to his other job - the one he gets paid to do. (Love that man!)

I'd ask the teenagers to pitch in and make dinner but it seems they are in a constant state of doing homework or tending to my other little needs during the evening (changing diapers, helping littler kids with homework and getting PJs on, helping me make school lunches for the next day, maintaining the house, etc.) not to mention the nights they have their own obligations (church activities, basketball games, practices, etc.).

So I've changed. I have learned to respond to offers of help not with, "I appreciate that, but we're fine" but instead with this new phrase:

"That would be awesome. Thank you."

I am not sure why it is so difficult to let others serve us. When I am asked to help others, I love to do so. I want to be the first in line to bring in a meal for a family with a new baby or whatnot. I love the feeling of being able to fulfill a need for someone. So why do I have a hard time letting others do the same for me? They would not ask to help if they did not want to do so. It has been a good lesson for me to accept these kind acts of service. I am filled with overwhelming gratitude for the wonderful neighbors and friends who have done so much for us in the past week.

To everyone who has sent well-wishes and amazing food and sweet little gifts our way, thank you. You have all helped make this much more bearable and we are so grateful for everything.

A million times, thank you.