I had twittered that our departure time was delayed. A quick check of my tweets shows that I sat around for nearly two hours before being able to pack the van. Our Teen Travelling Companion went to a school sports practice with little sleep and no food - by the time we got to her house to get her things for the trip she had gone right past dizzy and nauseous and straight into Technicolor Yawning. (Humorous moment even within her pain: She tossed a bag of frozen peas on the table, said “Please Apply Directly To The Forehead” and then thunked her head down on it.)
Of course My Teen promptly sat down in front of their computer, leaving me with the exercise ball to sit on, and nothing else to do. What do you do when you’re sitting on a nice big bouncy ball?
You bounce, of course!
What do you do when you’re boooooooooored with bouncing?
You try something else. In my case, I decided to try stretching my back and shoulders out. It may have looked downright awful but that stretch felt soooooo goooood. To refresh your memory:
Her packing finally got done and we got underway. When we got to Mamaw’s house Thursday, my stomach felt a little odd but I chalked it up to spending $40 on fast food in one day and the boys having nothing to do but jump on me. Sleep was simply not going to come to me easily either - too much activity during the day.
Friday brought us a beautiful high-contrast day. We got the kids fed, the house cleaned up, and then went to the park for a few hours. What do we do at the park? We play, people! My favoritest thing in the world is to swing, so once the boys were occupied I made a beeline for the unoccupied set. My shoes flew off as I leaned back and pointed my toes in an ever-expanding effort to go higher. And then I realized this is The Perfect Time to try taking action shots. I wrapped my arms around the chain, turned the camera on, tightened my abs, and did my best to kick the sky.
Out of the ten shots I tried, this one is the best. The others are missed moments where I hit the button too soon or too late. I’ll let that sink in. Ten shots. While actively trying to keep my camera on. And for all practical purposes in a crunch.
The boys finally declared themselves Hot And Tired, so we hopped into the van for the trip back to Mamaw’s, where I collapsed on the sofa - and where Joe promptly jumped on me. You know what happens when a kid jumps on you, right? You curl protectively around the softest parts of your body into the fetal position. And you use your abs to get into that position. Thirty minutes or so after he FINALLY stopped bouncing on me, my abs decided to speak. Authoritatively.
Each individual muscle turned into a hot spasming bundle of pain, saying things like “We thought we’d remind you of that freshly postpartum feeling!” and “Oh HEY THERE did you know we exist??!!??”
My sweet sweet Mamaw didn’t understand what I was talking about - she kept asking me if I needed a Tums or something to eat or if I needed to go to the bathroom. And all I could do was sit there in the rocking chair holding my throbbing belly and gasp “Mamaw, I’ll be OK.” And then another muscle would spasm and take my breath away.
Finally, blessedly, the boys fell asleep and I was able to mincingly make my way to the bed and collapse.
Off kilter, out of whack, and generally upset. Our needs - MY needs are being met, but it’s a half-meeting, a taste, a compromise. A handful of fluffy popcorn where a more nourishing substantial soup should be. Except when they’re not, and then the need is a vast chasm waiting to be filled.
I bum a cigarette here and there. There’s great fun in telling people “I don’t smoke” as I take a drag. I don’t need the nicotine anymore - I need something much more fundamental. I need visible proof that I’m inhaling and exhaling as I should be.
Eating has become an issue again. Well, not really eating. Hunger. I don’t realize I’m hungry, and not many foods appeal when I do realize it. Or I get hungry and think “I *just* ate” - and look at the clock to see that eight hours have passed. Salt burns my lips and tongue, grease upsets my stomach, sweet tea gives me heartburn. Isn’t that the holy trinity of southern cooking right there? Or I do realize I’m hungry, starving in fact, and quite ready to dive headfirst into the closest buffet. (Until I actually *smell* the buffet. Then? I’m nauseous all over again.)
I sing along in the car as Alicia tells me everything’s gonna be alright and manage to breathe a bit more. Move through the daily routine and get everything done.
I took a page out of Holly’s book and fold laundry in the closet. I can hide in there and squeeze out a tear or three if I need to. I don’t remember how old I was. Young. Little. But I do remember Daddy telling me “You don’t cry around me. Stop crying.” I remember him poking me in the ribs and making me giggle so I wouldn’t cry anymore. To this day I can’t. Simply can’t.
This…this isn’t a ripple in the pond. This is a rip in the space/time continuum, it is a world-changing tsunami, it is as inevitable and as invisible as the wind. There is no One to fight - it is everything and anything all at once.
I look at this picture…this blossom standing in defiance of the snow surrounding it, and find a bit of strength. I take my camera with me almost everywhere and snap moments of frozen zen whenever I can. Not “any port in a storm” - we’ve been there before and not going back. Breathe. Take the issues one at a time because picking them all up at once is more than anyone can should have to handle. One foot in front of the other. Did I mention to breathe?
And to take the end of the rope I’m holding in my hands and whip the ends
