This is a test...

This week seems to have been designed to test my mental fortitude.
My ability to handle stress.
A little experiment to see whether I crack under the pressure.
Let me explain.
In addition to breaking, then re-breaking my foot, all while walking mind you, two family members had surgery on Monday.
My mom, who underwent an emergency colostomy last fall, had surgery to reconnect all her plumbing. The surgery went well, though the pain and side-effects of medication are difficult to contend with. She is expected to have a full recovery, though it will be at least 6 weeks before she feels strong and healthy again. My sister is in Arkansas for these first two weeks, I have the next week, another sister the week after that.
Still wondering how I'm going to manage on my broken foot...
Ivy also underwent her surgery on Monday.
She had laparoscopic surgery to spay and attach her stomach to the rib cage.
Giant breed dogs, like St. Bernards, are not only prone to bloat, but also to stomach twisting during bloat. Attaching the stomach to the rib cage will form adhesions that should help prevent the stomach twisting, which is usually deadly.
Surgery went well, though Ivy was a little confused as she didn't know she was "broken" to begin with.
However, she is not to run, leap, or bound for two weeks.
That's 14 days.
336 hours.
Let's just say it isn't easy keeping an 80-pound, 7-month-old puppy from bounding.
Especially since I can't walk her, due to broken foot, and she is not allowed out in the yard off leash.
So far, the poor baby has spent a lot of time in her kennel and Michael has been coming home midday to take her for a walk. Sarah also has been walking her and sitting outside with her for stick chewing (Ivy, not Sarah).
11 more days to go.
Also this week, Michael had a temporary crown put on a cracked tooth. The procedure, however, required so much novocaine that he spent the rest of the day drooling on his computer while frantically trying to finish a huge project due that night.
Melissa got her braces on and is coping well.
Though "misery" would best describe her affect right now.
Fern has started waking us up again at night.
She likes to be accompanied to the food dish in the bathroom.
Usually around 3:30 a.m.
And 4.
Sometimes at 4:35.
Last, and certainly not least, we had a little cave-in.
I was reading to Melissa the other day when we heard a loud, thudding crash.
We thought Sarah was home.
When she didn't troop on through the door, we figured maybe the cats were thundering after each other upstairs.
Later in the afternoon, we heard another, similar thud.
The UPS man?
Hmm, could be.
Still later, Sarah went up to do the daily cat chores.
"Oh my god!"
What was it?
Had someone pooped outside the box yet again?
"Mom, the ceiling fell down!"
Surprisingly, I knew exactly what she meant.
We had a roof leak last fall that buckled the ceiling in the bathroom closet, a large room that holds not only bookshelves, but litter boxes, bathroom recycling, and other paraphernalia. We'd had a minor collapse in the fall, but this was the real McCoy.
Fortunately, Michael had his drooling under control by the time he got home, so clean-up was fairly straight forward.

All this, and it's only Thursday...

These feet weren't made for walking...

I have been something of a hermit of late.
I always tend a little toward the "alone, but not lonely," but lately it's been a bit extreme.
You see, these last couple of weeks have been somewhat overwhelming.
It all started when I took Ivy for a walk about 10 days ago.
It was a simple walk.
A slow 2/3 mile, as my broken foot was still healing.
All seemed well, though half-way through my right shoe began to feel a little tight.
Throughout the rest of the day, my foot started to ache.
A lot.
More than it had.
I chalked it up to being on it a little too much.
That's all.
Well, that night I took a good look and my foot was swollen again.
And really sore.
A quick call to the doctor yielded an appointment and instructions to wear my lovely orthopedic shoe.
The verdict?
I had likely cracked the new bone growth around the original fracture.
Three more weeks of orthopedic shoe, followed by three more weeks of no walking for exercise, plus another appointment to check on my progress.
Sigh.
The past 10 days have been spent sitting, expanding, and slowly going stir-crazy.
On the brighter side, my podiatrist can now afford that little trip to the Caribbean...

Horsin' Around

We went on a trail ride while in the Ouachita Mountains near Hot Springs, Arkansas, during spring break. We had beautiful weather, in the upper 60s, for the hour-long ride.

All of us have ridden horses a time or two before locally, but these horses were better trained. Whenever I've gone a trail ride here, my legs have been sore and uncomfortable shortly after the ride started. But this ride, I was comfortable the whole time. I think the stirrups were adjusted properly, way longer than they have been locally. I'll need to remember that when we ride again. It made a huge difference.

The ride took us up mountains, through the woods, and over streams. At one point, Zach's horse, who was right in front of mine, decided to "giddyap" and burst up a hill in a fast trot. My horse, thinking this was a good idea, suddenly sped up.

Whoopee, this is what trotting feels like!

Whee, this is fun.

My first thoughts.

Then, I realized, I was gradually shifting.

Tilting.

Slipping!

The saddle was sliding to the left, and I, of course, was going with it!

Somehow, I managed to hang on, riding almost parallel with the ground.

Fortunately, the horse slowed at the top of the hill, the guide noticed my predicament, and I was able to right the saddle.

Apparently, I have the dubious distinction of being the second closest to falling off a horse in this guide's experience.

I'm so proud.

The rest of the ride was gorgeous and uneventful.

A perfect morning.

Who needs caffeine?

My adrenaline boost lasted most of the day.

Constitutional Rights for All

Today the Iowa Supreme Court ruled that the state's same-sex marriage ban violates the constitutional rights of gay and lesbian couples, clearing the way for gay/lesbian marriage.

Hallelujah!

Iowa is not known for its progressive politics and the outcome of the Supreme Court decision certainly wasn't a given.

This is a banner day for Iowa and the nation, as Iowa will become the third state to allow same-sex marriage.

Of course the state House minority leader, a Republican, has called for a constitutional amendment "protecting marriage as between and a man and a woman." I thought Republicans were supposed to advocate less government intervention into citizens' private lives. Can you spell "hypocrisy?"

My niece is in a loving relationship with another woman. They have been together a couple of years now, though I don't know if they are committed to a life-long relationship. Both women are college educated, employed, contributing members of society. Why should my niece be deprived of the benefits of legal marriage simply because some people believe she shouldn't love this specific person because of her sex?

I have been married for nearly 24 years. My marriage is in no way threatened by anyone else's marriage, whether gay or straight. Marriage and relationships are personal, individual and private. Whom I love is no one else's business, except perhaps the recipient.

I teach my children that being a U.S. citizen guarantees equal protection and rights under the law. This principle is what sets us apart from many other nations and ought to be cherished, protected, defended, and extended to those who in the past may have been discriminated against.

Religions may condemn or sanctify their members' actions. But our government is not a theocracy. Religious opinions have no business in the making of laws.

Today I am proud to be an Iowan.

I hope the rest of the nation soon follows suit.

It is well past time to extend civil rights to all Americans.

Ponderings

So the other day, while I was taking a nap on the floor in front of the fireplace, I did a little thinking.
My first thought was that the floor is pretty darn hard, but I certainly wasn't going to waken Ivy, who was soundly asleep on the couch.
After that, I contemplated the passage of time and how when I was 24 I never would have thought this is where I would be at 45.
No, I don't mean on the floor.

When I was 24, I had been been married for three years and had my first baby. He just turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. How could that much time have flown by so quickly?
At 24 I was just beginning the journey of motherhood and still had no idea that mothering would become my "purpose" in life. I was astonished at how deeply I loved this new little person. I had never experienced such a selfless love before.
It made me realize, also, for the first time, how my parents must have loved me.

I hadn't yet anticipated the mental health issues my children would face, let alone recognized my own. What I had always called "melancholia" would later be diagnosed as depression and anxiety, but not for another decade or so.

I certainly didn't anticipate having to climb out of debt in my forties, living in a "distressed" neighborhood, or having so much gray hair.
I didn't know how excruciatingly difficult it is to lose a parent.

Neither did I realize that my marriage would only grow stronger and that love continues to deepen as the years go by. I didn't yet understand how love is not finite, but expands to encompass each additional child. I didn't know I would have three more beautiful, intelligent, giving children and that being a mother was almost a "calling" for me.

I never thought I would have four cats, two dogs and 10 chickens.

I also remembered another time, sleeping on the floor in front of the fireplace with my old dog, Wally, when he was a puppy.
Nearly 10 years ago.

I am so glad that I have been a stay-at-home mom all these years. That my children spent more time with me, and I with them, than with anyone else.
And though I no longer believe in a god, I recognize that my life has truly been blessed.
I can't help but wonder what the next 20 years will bring.

A Brighter Outlook

Wow.

What a difference a little perspective makes.

We haven't been on "Spring break" this whole time, only the first week.

We had a great little vacation in Arkansas, visiting my mom and Hot Springs.

While away, I realized that I had, again, sunk into a depressive funk.

Not a bad one, mind you.

But I was definitely taking a cloudy outlook on life.

I started on antidepressants (SSRIs were my salvation) and completed a solid round of therapy about 10 years ago. One of the most difficult aspects of treatment to accept was that I was not "cured" but "in treatment." Depression is no longer my constant companion, but instead is more of a guerrilla, ever ready to launch a sneak attack.

When this happens, I go into a slow, but steady, decline. I find myself with less energy, sleeping more, doing less around the house, feeling down, down, down. But it always takes a few months to recognize this downhill slide.

Our getaway provided me with the perspective to shut the door on my depression yet again. Life is what I make of it. It isn't always easy to shed the gloom and doom and recognize all that I have in my life that is good.

But I'll never stop trying.

And maybe, someday, I'll not only close that door, but be able to lock it.

And throw away the key.

SPRING BREAK!!!