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Thanks for reading!
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Monday, June 29, 2015
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
In which I out Fitbit my Fitbit
So. As many of you know I'm a runner (well, most of the time I am unless I do stupid things like break my leg. Right now I'm an elliptical-HGTV watcher at the YMCA and I'm pleased to report that at 11 months past my injury I am 99% recovered. Let's agree to not jump off any more chairs for a while - ok for, like, EVER - ohhkay?). For many years I have taken sick pleasure in logging my every intentional mile into either the Nike+ app on my iPhone or my Garmin GPS for longer battery-draining runs. I literally got to the point where I could not run unfettered because ... duh. If you run without tracking it does not count!
When the Fitbit came out I was not initially intrigued (I mean, dude, obviously my gadget game is strong). A friend of mine had one early on - the kind you clip to your bra strap - but it didn't really appeal to me much. More and more people started popping up with the wristband version (including my three best friends) and started talking about how many steps a person was/or was not logging. They discussed how much (and how little) sleep they were getting and since lately I've been feeling pretty dog tired I was more interested in tracking how much (and how little) I was sleeping. Actually ... that part scared me a little. Did I want to know how many times I'd been woken in the night by errant children and my bladder? Even though it was a thing I didn't really want to know about ... I kinda wanted to know. You know?
The thing that put me over the edge were the rumors going around about my friend Fiona who apparently was logging something upwards of 14K steps a day ... by all accounts an insanely active number. TOO ACTIVE, EVEN! CALM DOWN WITH ALL YOUR STEPS! THEY ONLY RECOMMEND 10K A DAY SIT DOWN YOU YOU'RE MAKING US LOOK BAD! And this was on her "around the house" days ... it's not like she was going on ten mile runs (and yes, she is pretty epic). And guys she's 5'11". She gets a lot DONE in one stride. GASP! GUFFAW! MUCH TOO ACTIVE I TELL YOU WE MUST INTERVENE! WE MUST SIT HER DOWN AND HAVE AN INTERVENTION!
Finally! I got a Fitbit for my birthday. Oh happy day!! As I put it on my arm I was like, "welp, Manda, time to be very underwhelmed by your level of fitness and lack of sleep!" But guys. I needed to know. I NEEDED TO KNOW HOW SLOTHLIKE I AM. Sigh. DEEP, DRAMATIC SIGH.
Um.
There's a new Fiona in town. Welcome to my hamsterwheel.
(Note to self: Calm the hell down before someone stages an intervention.)
(And let's not even get started on my average of 7 hours of sleep I get on uneventful nights).
Saturday, August 09, 2014
In memory of our friend on his birthday
Today our friend Alexis would have been 40 years old. A few days after his April 21st death his wife Fiona - one of my dearest friends - and I sat at her dining room table and laughed and cried and wrote "the story of his life" together ... the obituary that I published on this website yesterday. To give you an idea about what kind of awesome people the Godschalks are: before we got started writing about Alexis she showed me the following YouTube video.
This is the kind of friends these people are in our lives. We have laughed and cried together a lot, but mostly laughed. One of my favorite things to tell people about Alexis is that he was impossible to offend. And really? It is one of the most true things I can remember about him. The man loved Jesus, but oh did he enjoy a raunchy joke. He would tell an off-color joke, crack himself up and laugh with this high-pitched cackle-laugh of his, blush completely pink, and we'd all be on the floor laughing so hard at him laughing at himself that we'd have tears running down our faces.
For instance, we introduced him to a hilarious game called iPhone Karaoke, and the premise is pretty simple: you put a pair of headphones on and they are connected to an iPhone or iPod in someone else's hand. They find a random song and you have to sing it with the headphones on. If you've never played this game with your friends I HIGHLY recommend it. The point is that you might or might not know the song, and if you DON'T know the song you have to sing it anyway, by making up words or scatting over the tune ... all while not really being able to hear yourself because you're wearing headphones. Alexis LOVED this game, except when it was his turn to play? He took control of the iPhone, took one headphone out, and chose HIS OWN SONG. His song of choice was usually by Whitney Houston. And even though he was being bossy and deliberately playing the game WRONG? We didn't care, because he was hilarious and he would always choose a diva/lady singer and go full-on soprano with it. Oh how I wish I had a video of him doing this to share with you!
Alexis was a 6'3" fair-complected, bearded Dutchman. He was born in South Africa, but his family moved all over the world and eventually landed back in their home country of The Netherlands. He was married to a beautiful, tall Belgian woman, and his children at ages 9,7, and 5 are all almost as tall as I am at age 34. He was a brilliant photographer, a car enthusiast, he loved good coffee and drank it like I did with a lot of half-and-half and sugar, and he insisted on hugging everyone. And if he even got a sniff that you were not a "hugger"? Well then he was going to hug you extra tightly and awkwardly and probably also kiss you on the top of the head (and he definitely did that to ME! And that made me more of a hugger than I've ever been in my whole life).
The afternoon before he died (on Easter Sunday) we were all at church together. Our family, the Godschalks, our church family, some of our dearest friends. Several people were baptized in a very moving service ... most of which I missed out on because our nursery childcare arrangements fell through that week and I volunteered to hang out with the children in the playroom. Alexis FaceTimed some of the service to me from the other room (isn't the tech age AWESOME?) so I could see and hear my friends testifying about what God had done in their lives ... powerful stuff. Fiona and my friend Lynne had me on FaceTime while they sang with the praise team - don't tell the Pastor-slash-my husband! ha! - and then we all gathered together, children and adults and every last one of us, to witness the baptisms. My 3-year-old son was particularly squirrelly that evening and probably a bit hopped up on Easter candy ... I had to prevent him from jumping into the baptistry pool several times. I snapped a few photos of the baptisms with my phone, one image of our children putting their hands out to bless their friend who was being baptized will stand out in my memory forever - and I vaguely remember seeing Alexis passing in and out of the crowd of people. I wonder now what he was doing, but my guess is that he was doing something helpful or taking the perfect photo. I took a few panorama shots of everyone gathered together and I cannot find him in a single image from that day.
Just a few minutes later we were gathering together in another room and preparing to share a meal together. Someone came to fetch me in the kitchen and said I needed to come now. RIGHT NOW. Elijah had tripped and fallen into the piano bench and split his forehead open. I was escorted to the bathroom where my husband and about 6 other people were attending my wailing, bleeding son. The bathroom looked like a scene from the tv show Dexter so I stepped out (fainter) and bewilderdly started flapping around, unsure about what to do. I'd forgotten the baby's food at home! Do we drive him to the hospital? Do we call an ambulance? WHERE IS SYDNEY OH MY GOODNESS I THINK I AM FREAKING OUT NOW THERE IS BLOOD EVERYWHERE. Someone called an ambulance. I held Elijah's head in my hands as his dad carried him to the firefighters. They packed up the boys in the back and I went inside and was panic-flapping all over again trying to find John's backpack and keys. It was then that Alexis finally grabbed me firmly by the shoulders and looked me in the eye and told me that everything was going to be fine, that he and Fiona would take the baby home (and another friend piped up that they would take Sydney home), that I should get my stuff, get into the car and go, because everything was going to be fine. "Manda! We have everything covered. GO. It's going to be fine!" he repeated. And I believed him. And I grabbed my purse and got into the pickup truck and somehow made it to the hospital.
Elijah got 4 very traumatizing stitches and we were there until midnight. On the ride home we discussed whether we should pick up the girls right away or wait until morning. Sydney had school in the morning and I knew we'd all be tired so I wanted us to all wake up together at the house the next day. We first went to get Lucy. I called and texted Fiona and Alexis several times and couldn't get a hold of them ... I knew this meant that they'd fallen asleep. I finally got Fi up by tapping on her bedroom window and she emerged with my baby, both of them warm and sleepy. She laughed and said that she and Alexis had a marvelous time cuddling her between them in their bed and reminiscing on their own past life with little babies. We scooped Syd and within the half hour we were all at home in our own beds. It took me a while to get to sleep that night, and I kept replaying the events of the long, hard day. I thought about being at the hospital on Easter Sunday covered in the blood of our son, considered the congruity of contemplating the death and resurrection of Christ and then later looking down my white linen pants spattered in what is most precious to me. Honest-to-God I lay there that night thinking about what precious little time we have and how important it is that we don't waste it, about how Jesus could have given a flip if we were all sitting up in a church on Easter Sunday. I was proud of my community, totally blessed and blown away by the baptisms I'd witnessed that day, and most of all just so thankful for my friends who stood in the gap for us so we could take Elijah to the hospital together.
The next morning we woke up tired. There was a lot to process through from the night before. We had to wake Sydney up to get her to school that Monday morning. Elijah slept in late after his ordeal and I so had time to take a shower that morning. I was in Elijah and Sydney's room with Lucy and Elijah when John started yelling. I came out and he was on the phone, his hand clutched in his hair, and then he dropped to the floor. I had to yell at him to get him to tell me what happened. It was a horrible, horrible moment. That Monday was one of the hardest days.
I tell this story because one of the last memories I have of our Alexis is one of my most treasured memories of him in the short time that we knew him. I can still hear his voice telling me that I basically needed to pull myself together and it would all be all right. His last message to me was not just words. He and Fiona were and are our true friends. He didn't just tell me to suck it up ... they dealt with our son having his head split open with us.
This is the kind of friends they are to us. They are the friends who play silly Youtube videos while we write obituaries and the kind who take our baby home with them on Easter Sunday - Alexis' last full day on this earth - and sleep with her in their arms in their bed like she's their own.
This is the kind of friend you hope to get in this life. This is the kind of friend who is hardest to lose.
Happy Birthday, dear friend. We will never forget you.
Friday, August 08, 2014
In Memoriam: Alexis Godschalk August 9, 1974 - April 21, 2014
Alexis Gerard Henri Godschalk, 39, of Los Angeles, CA passed away suddenly on April 21, 2014.
He was preceded in death by his parents: beloved mother Bibiana Van Oosterhout Godschalk and father Hank Godschalk and infant brother Rudolf.
He is survived by wife Fiona Godschalk van Rijn, sons Stephen Gabriel Henry Godschalk and Gerard Louis Emmanuel Godschalk and daughter Lana Emma Vivianne Godschalk; younger sister Saskia Godschalk of Gouda, The Netherlands and younger brother Marnix Godschalk of Valkensswaard, The Netherlands.
Alexis was born in South Africa on August 9, 1974 and is where he grew up until the age of twelve. His parents were foster parents and ran a boys’ home for over 2 years and at one point he had 18 “brothers” living with him in addition to his younger brother and sister. His parents were church leaders and always kept the family involved in the community. Alexis’ mom kept him busy with competitive highland dancing, knitting and crafts, and many, many shows, plays and musicals.
At age 12 his family relocated to The Netherlands where he became a Sea Cadet (which is like Boy Scouts on the ocean).
Over the course of his life Alexis immigrated 5 times and lived in 25 different homes. He enjoyed this, and knew that God would have a new adventure for him anywhere and everywhere he went.
The greatest adventure of Alexis’ life began when he gave his life to Christ and was baptized at the age of thirteen. While he self-admitted that he was a bit of a “Jesus Freak” in his adolescence, throughout the ups and downs of his life Alexis knew who loved and cared for him: His heavenly father.
God’s love and care for Alexis was never more evident than when he met his best friend, lover, soul mate, and the mother of his children in May of 1999. He met Fiona in London at a church retreat aptly called, “The Time of Our Life.” The day that she met him Fiona knew that he was going to marry her. She didn’t know his name or where he was from, but she knew that was the man God had for her. They were engaged on Dec. 4, 1999 in Brussels. Everyone that knew them said, “It’s about time” even though they’d only known each other seven months. What followed was a whirlwind wedding in Brussels on Sept. 16, 2000 and 4 days later immigration to the United States, the place that became their true home. They landed in Atlanta, GA where for seven years they were part of leading the Impact young adult ministry with Lee Mason (through Church of the Apostles). They were one of three couples in an initial group of 60+ single people that has now transformed into 20+ marriages and resulted in many, many children. After a year in Georgia they started a wedding photography business, and soon Stephen - Alexis’ “boy” - was on the way, and Alexis finally had his wife barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen (she loved it!). While at Buckhead Church they met their future neighbors Michael and Amy Johnston who convinced them to move to the empty house next door in the seedy Capital View neighborhood. There they started a community neighborhood coffee shop called Capital Brew, and so the love of coffee continued in Alexis’ life.
In 2006 Gerard – Papa’s “Ger-Ger” and “monkey” - was on the way! And with the arrival of their second boy more change was on the horizon. Alexis was offered a position at Street Fire, a car enthusiast video website based out of Los Angeles and they packed up their boys, aged 2.5 and 6 months, and drove the family west. He spent two years at Street Fire, then was self-employed for a short time, then spent two years as a Senior Producer at Sony, then was self-employed and recently collaborated on Stage 141 with friend Marshall Lee. (stage141.com)
Fiona plugged the family in to Westchester Parents’ Nursery School (WPNS) a few weeks after they arrived in Los Angeles when their oldest - Stephen - was enrolled in preschool. It very quickly became the Godschalks’ village and in six years it has brought them a huge community which they call their “village” and they love knowing that their entire family can depend on this village. Alexis loved knowing that Fiona was deeply involved in the years they spent there. This community has made them laugh, cry, and grow and taught Alexis and Fiona how to thoroughly enjoy being parents.
A year later Lana was on the way, and their family was complete with her birth in 2009. She was the apple of her daddy’s eye, his “baby girl” and his “toutie.”
The family soon plugged in at Bel Air Presbyterian Church and for 2.5 years Alexis and Fiona led the “Growing Families” ministry. This ministry was especially dear to his heart because it allowed him to promote something he was really passionate about: leading people into healthy, Godly marriage. Through Bel Air Pres. they helped grow a church plant called Water’s Edge Church with dear friends Vonda and Dave McNeil.
A new season brought Alexis and Fiona to what they call “The Huddle Church” … Westchester Church of the Nazarene. Right across the street from their beloved preschool, they discovered the missing piece of their family. A rainbow of God’s creation, people who were all so different and yet straining toward the same goal: To grow and be who God wanted them to be. Alexis loved knowing that he could share a word or a crazy idea and that it was received. It was a place he felt valued and a place where he could use his gifts. He became a brother and a father figure to so many there, many of whom the family came to know through their much-loved Thursday night church meetings at the Huddle’s house.
Alexis had many hobbies, but photography was his favorite. He loved to shoot automobiles, stylized portraits, and turning random things into art with the lens. He had an incredible eye for detail and a knack for finding beauty in the most ordinary and strange places.
He also loved luxury automobiles: his dream car was a grey Tesla Model S with all the bells and whistles. He was a trusted driver and highly respected in the automobile collecting and racing communities.
And let’s not forget coffee! He was well-known for the “Lex-presso” and his everyday latte art. Honorable mention goes to his famous adult beverage: the Lexi-tini.
He was most passionate about modeling an awesome marriage. The one thing Alexis and Fiona knew they always had was their marriage. They didn’t have a lot of money, they didn’t have their families nearby, but they had their marriage. They were always really careful and protective of this union, which is why it worked so well.
Alexis loved how different his kids’ personalities were, he loved to “show off” for them and be goofy with them. He loved teaching them an “attitude of gratitude” and teaching them how to be adventurous. He modeled for them how to trust and lean completely on God. As a kid he lived his life through magazines and clippings, and he wanted his kids to see, touch and ride in his dream cars, meet celebrities, and experience things like the X-Games. It was rewarding for him as a father to know that he could do that for them.
Alexis will be deeply missed by all who knew him. Fiona asks that you hug her all the time and be adventurous in front of their kids.
Tuesday, August 05, 2014
A love letter to friendship
Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, "What! You too? I thought I was the only one." - C.S. Lewis
This year I have been busy building relationships. Like ... "in real life" ones.
I know this might sound silly coming from a 34-year-old woman, but it has taken me this long to finally figure out how to be a friend to someone and how to be on the receiving end of friendship.
For 13 years (ten of which we have been married) I have been fortunate enough to have my husband as my number one best friend. We are the kind of married couple who shares just about everything.*
{*Disclaimer: non-withstanding is personal information about people whom he counsels in confidence. I feel like because of the nature of John's job as a pastor I need to say, out loud, that no ... he does not come home from a long day of work and divulge everyone's deep, dark secrets. He feels that keeping people's private information is a very important part of what he does, but also important to compartmentalize in terms of our marriage. I appreciate this about him and I know that others do too, although there is sometimes the assumption that I automatically know everything that is shared with him in confidence. This is not the case, unless someone has specifically asked him to share something with me or if he has asked beforehand if it's all right for something to be shared with me. Those are the only two occasions when something like that would make it home to me.}
SO! Aside from ... "job things," John and I are very open and communicate a lot. It's in his nature to talk a lot (moreso than mine), and I trust him 100%, so we have pretty open dialogue despite our sometimes converse introvert/extrovert personality leanings. We drink out of each other's cups, we share food, we swap phone chargers (although I now write my initals on mine because he sometimes accidentally borrows them into his backpack and I never see them again, oops), we share disciplining our children, we share our financial management, we make all major decisions together, we have all joint bank accounts, we share household duties, we share. We are one of those couples.
Because of the nature of our relationship, sometimes I have depended on him too much for, you know, regular old Friend Stuff. I have always had a few friends sprinkled here and there, but when I have moved away I have invariably kind of drifted apart from people. And in your twenties I think this happens to a lot of people who get married young and move away (I was a child bride at the recently aquired age of 24, ha). I connected with people who I worked with in ministry and kept up with them over the years, we made friends with a married couple here and there, but I never felt like I had a super tight bond with anyone that survived the tests of life disasters or geographical change. In my defense, I went through a lot of hardship in my twenties and often felt very disconnected from people because I didn't have healthy coping strategies and was so terribly hurt and bereaved at times. I was terribly crippled by the fears of being hurt and betrayed by anyone who got close to me, and if God forbid those people had any life disasters or tragedy that I had to be available to help them deal with? Man, that just didn't work. I was so spiritually and emotionally depleted that I just didn't have much, if anything, to give. I had my husband with whom to have a meaningful relationship, anyway, so why would I need much more?
Hate to break it to you, Self, but that was probably kind of hard on the guy.
A few years ago I showed up at Sydney's preschool to enroll her with a 6-month-old Elijah on my hip. There is no question: I was a total and completely exhausted disaster. Elijah was a particularly difficult baby to follow Sydney's even-tempered and breezy babyhood. He didn't sleep much unless I was nursing him, he wouldn't take pacis or bottles, and he really would only allow me to hold or take care of him. John started a new job that was a huge blessing to our family, but it left me at home alone for a vast majority of the time with a toddler and a demanding baby who never napped, which was hard for me because ... see above. I depended on my husband too much. He was one of the two people I was willing to ever ask for help (the other was my sainted mom-in-law who lives about 30-45 mins away by freeway). I really didn't have any friends that I trusted. I was a keyed-up hot mess.
I wish I could tell you here that things instantly got better when Syd started school but that was not the case. At our tiny co-op parents volunteer at our play-based school every other week (and that's for kids that are enrolled in the 3-day-a-week class. Kids who are enrolled 5 days a week or full days volunteer longer). Volunteering entails basically being a "teaching parent" for the entire school day. You set up the school, you greet children when they come in, you clean, you paint, you break up fights, you take kids to the potty, you sweep, you put on suncreen and help kids change their clothes and find their cubbies and help them with their snack and oh MY LANDS is it exhausting. I did a lot of this that first year while wearing Elijah in an Ergo on my front. It was so, so hard for me. I would show up at the school already exhausted from not sleeping and trying to manage Sydney, who was a force to be reckoned with at that age (AND SHE STILL IS but at least now she's potty trained Praise the LORD), and yep. It was discouraging how hard my life was on those days. I have written before about how hard being a parent has been for me at times - and it still is so hard for me most of the time - but those days were dark.
One of the bright lights of that year was, however, that I finally had contact with adults who I had things in common with: our preschoolers. I took a parenting class at the school and still remember how good it felt to sit on the floor in a circle with these other people who were pulling their hair out trying to manage their kids too. I wasn't alone!
Fiona was one of the people I met that year. And let me tell you about her: She is this tall, beautiful, enigmatic Belgian woman. She wears beautiful, colorful clothes always topped by a bright scarf, she smiles all the time and hugs everyone, she laughs loud, she has this artistic free spirit, and her daughter (the youngest of her three children) is six months younger than my oldest. She had been around the block as a parent, was so confident with kids, was so kind to others and so bold. She had a husband who kissed her hello and goodbye and was obviously nuts about her, and she wasn't afraid to admit to anyone who wanted to know that she was a sold-out follower of Jesus. Talk about meeting your spirit animal ... Fiona was mine. Here I was - this little, dowdy, dark Eeyore of a person, so obviously struggling along in life - and there she was: My new hero. We got to know each other a little bit that year, and when our daughters were in the same class the following year we started winding around each other in tighter circles. I sponged off her and asked her every parenting question I could come up with. She is very tight with our preschool director (another person I came to depend on heavily that year: she taught our parenting class that year and took me - and my wild child of a daughter - under her wing and is now the person who puts stars in my son's eyes. Oh Teacher Joyce!), and through that connection Fiona and her husband Alexis started asking us questions about our church community. Alexis and John finally met, and Alexis instantly became John's best friend, and the rest is kind of history. Alexis and Fiona and their children joined our church community and just started "doing life" with us. We hung out several times a week. The guys had coffee together every Thursday morning. Being friends with Fiona was the beginning of the end of a very long dry spell for me. Between her and another precious friend (my marathon training partner, Lindsay) God was coaxing me out of my lonely cave. He had plans for me. He had plans for us. He was going to teach me how to be a friend.
Soon two other dear girls, Breanna (who was also a preschool mom and a Team World Vision runner) and Lynne (an aquaintance I'd had for many years but had never been able to properly connect with until another thing happened ... a long, good story for perhaps another day) were tossed into our mix and we all just instantly connected. We started texting each other daily and I heard God tell me very clearly that I needed to invite these women into my home ... into the very vortex of my life. I needed to be brave with them about my shortcomings, I needed to be honest and open with them about my faith, I needed to make space for them in my life face-to-face. At first the idea terrified me. Would it be awkward? Would they judge me for my less-than-perfect house? Would they even SHOW UP?
The short version of the story is that yes, they showed up. And they kept showing up. And over the course of a year these three women became the best friends I have ever had outside of my marriage. We have laughed and cried about everything. We have watched our children play and fight and in the process form their own deep friendships. We have worshipped God together, we have fed each other and others, we have had awkward moments, we have prayed, we have drunk a thousand cups of coffee, we have gone to IKEA, we have cleaned each other's houses and folded each other's laundry, we have hugged and kissed and disciplined each other's children, we have introduced each other to our family and friends, we have texted just about EVERY DAY since we first joined together as friends. We have welcomed a baby (Lucy!) and we are about to welcome another (Breanna's baby boy is due in Sept), one of us has moved away (Breanna), one of us had major surgery (Lynne), one of us has lost her husband (Fiona), we have gone on a road trip together, we have trained for and run races together. Sometimes it has taken work, most of the time it has been as easy as breathing, and through all of it we have been forever bound together.
It occurs to me now that Jesus was a friend ... his circle was not much wider than mine: of the twelve disciples he had three friends who were as close to him as brothers (John, Peter, and James). They walked together, they ate together, they ministered to people together. They talked things over, they made plans, they trusted each other. Friendship is valuable. It is a gift. It is a choice.
I never knew that I could share this deeply with people who were not in my immediate family. I never knew that there were people out there who God could use to stitch back together the parts of me that were deeply and intimately hurt and broken. I am thankful that I didn't make it through the rest of my life before I figured it out. I am so glad I didn't miss out on this blessing. I am thankful for my friends.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Hitch in my giddyup
So ... funny story! My MRI results came back and I have a fractured tibia and a sprained ACL. Which, in a weird way, is good news! I cannot believe that having a broken leg is actually a "best-case" scenario here, but there you go. No torn ACL (which is what I was pretty sure we were dealing with and ... oh dude would THAT have ever sucked. A year of recovery. A YEAR). A torn miniscus would have meant minor surgery with a few months of recovery. A posterior tibia fracture? Means ... crutches and rest until the bone heals. 6-8 weeks total.
I will say again, this is good news! BUT! In case anyone hasn't noticed ... I have three little kids. I am super clumsy and trying to use crutches and carry a baby around is just ridiculous. So, confession time: I'm not really using my crutches.
I'm limping through my summer right now, literally and figuratively. It was not my plan! The kids are all sick in one form or another this week: Sydney has a double ear infection, Lucy is teething and growing (and now crawling!) and also has some major sinus crud happening, and Elijah is knocking on the door of getting sick too with a bit of a temp. So we are sitting around the house a lot. Everyone is grumpy and fussy (me included). It's not my favorite.
I had plans! We were going to the beach or the water park every Saturday! I was going to start training for my two half-marathons in October this week! My friend and I were going to to the YMCA and work out A LOT. I was going to start physical therapy for my diastasis recti. Sydney was going to be taught to ride her two-wheeler and everyone was going to play outside every day for HOURS. I had plans! So many wonderful plans!
It just feels like a lot is on hold right now. And so I'm organizing the house. I'm folding a crap-ton of laundry. I'm shopping online too much. I'm fending off very bored children (especially my almost-first grader who STILL cannot manage to entertain herself for very long). I'm knocking up plans for reward systems and behavior charts for the kids and failing dramatically at executing them. I'm calling up my friends and inviting us all over to their houses for play dates. I'm dragging us all to urgent care and/or the pediatrician. Grandma is driving over a lot and watching the kids while I go get MRIs and go to the doctor. I am wiping noses and administering medications. I am experimenting with new hairstyles. We are eating out a lot. I am breaking up arguments between my children. I am thinking a lot about grief and loss and about the very weighty things that have transpired in our lives these last few months.
And in ways we are still having a great, lazy summer. It's been good for us. We've spent a lot of time with friends! The big kids got to go to VBS for a week and they just loved it. Sydney has been journaling and reading (it is seriously so cool that she can read) and Elijah can spend an hour or more just looking at and organizing his cars and airplanes. Their best buddies have a trampoline at one house and a brood of chickens at another (our house has the slip-n-slide, ha, lucky buddies). John is taking me to Hawaii next week with no kids (!!) for our tenth wedding anniversary! It's still a good summer! It's just not the summer I was planning on.
Amidst it all I wait, and wait, and wait for my leg to feel better. And it really doesn't feel much better yet, and that is pretty depressing sometimes. I am trying to find what God might teach me through all this. I know there are areas of my life where I need to slow down. I need to accept that it's ok for me to be weak and to not be able to do everything all the time. My children needed to learn some contructive things to do while they're bored (and I think we are on that road ... they have been bored a lot this summer). I needed to learn how to be more flexible when my plans get shot all to hell. I needed to learn to ask for help and not just accept it when it's offered ... I am still learning this lesson.
What's crazy about me is that I still have hope that I'll be running/walking at least one half marathon in October. I am still determined to get on track with therapy as soon as I get the green light from my orthopedic specialist. I am still determined to have an amazing vacation with my husband. It's just a matter of time. I just need to wait it out a little longer, which is the hardest part.
Oh ... and I should probably bust out those crutches once in a while.
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
Monday, June 30, 2014
In which I realize I am not 18 anymore
Some of you noticed the mention of crutches in my last post. Being hobbled does indeed suck, especially when the hobbled person in question has three children aged nearly 6, 3.5, and 1. I wish there was a good story behind why I'm on crutches. Alas, I'm just an idiot.
There was one perfectly good photobombed photo:
But because I'm me, I felt the need to take it to the next, ridiculous level:
And it didn't end very well for my knee, which would like me to tell you on her behalf that she is not, indeed, 18 anymore. She'd also like to add that it's time to lose that last 20 pounds of baby weight once and for all and pipe the hell down while you're at it, Manda.
Let's just hope I can cram in enough recovery to start training for my next race on July 21 (two half marathons scheduled for October. SMOOTH MOVE EX LAX).
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