Broken Ankle. An Update

Honestly, I would never wish a broken ankle on anyone...not even my most serious enemy.  And I would especially not wish a compound fracture on anyone.  It's horrible.  It's frustrating.  It's painful.  And to think, all I did was step off a stupid curb and twist my ankle.  And *poof* it broke and poked through the skin.  My friends tell me it was quite the sight.  Those that looked at it anyway.  One of my friends couldn't look at it, but that's ok.  I love her anyway.  I couldn't look at it either. 

After 5+ weeks of being non-weight bearing on my right ankle, I finally got the OK from the surgeon to start walking on it.  Hallelujah!  Finally, my life back!  I could start picking up the house and being the mom I'm supposed to be.  Yeah, in my dreams.  I still need a walker to get around.  If I don't use the walker, my ankle gives out on me along with my knee, and I tip over.  And since I'm using the walker, I can't carry anything.  So I still can't do a lot around the house.  And it hurts.  A lot.  Sigh. 

Will I ever feel like a normal person again?

Adventures of a not-so-super-mom::sept. 20 edition

That was almost my blog name.  I really wanted it to be.  But a quick google search brought up too many entries that were either that name or close to it.  So I found something else.  Something I hope reflects our goal as a family.  At least we try.

Anywhozzles, I am not a super mom.  Not even close.  Surprising?  Probably not.  My husband jokes that our family name should be changed to Yell.  We seem to do that a lot around here either because someone is doing something they shouldn't or to be heard over one of the three tvs.  In fact, I just yelled at Ruby because she wanted me to open a juice box but chewed the straw into oblivion so it was unusable to break into the only-can-be-operated-by-a-highly-trained-ninja.  I still tried.  Which resulted in spilling half the juice into my lap because I had to squeeze so hard to even attempt to break the seal.  Yeah, I don't really care for juice in my lap, so I yelled raised my voice wondering why on earth Ruby had to destroy this piece of plastic.  Of course, it meant that Ruby didn't get her juice.  So she cried.

But the best fairly recent example of me not being a super mom has to do with Cora.  She fell out of the bed the other night.  I heard her crying but didn't rush to her side - mostly because with my broken ankle I can't rush anywhere.  And also because she has turned into a little bit of a drama queen, so I was waiting to see what would happen.  Then my husband got up and rescued her before he left for job #1.  All was quiet again.  Then Cora woke up for the day and came out to my prison spot on the couch.  She was crying again because she had gone into the bathroom to go potty and saw her reflection in the mirror.  She was bothered by it.  And when she showed up to my spot on the couch, I could see why.  She had blood all over her face and a huge cut right below her eyebrow.  I don't know what she hit, but she obviously hit something when she fell off.  She didn't want anyone to look at her or touch anything but finally allowed me (with Daddy's help in holding her down) to clean up her face.  She pretty much spent the day on the recliner taking it easy.

And then there's this morning.  When she woke up, she couldn't open her eye.  By the way, if anyone knows how to convince a very stubborn opinionated almost five year old that icing her eye would be a good thing, let me know.  At any rate, if I had not ignored her cries waited to see what happened when she first fell, maybe I could have helped heal her eye better.  But to make THAT happen, I'd have to go back to August 19 and avoid breaking my ankle.  So, yeah.  I'm not a super mom. 

Forgive my delusions

I've always been a life chronicler.  I have boxes of old journals stashed away (probably never to be read again) and once I figured out Facebook, I quickly became addicted.  Like anyone really cares that I plan to do some research into the concept of gherkins.  Yeah.  My life isn't that interesting.  It isn't so much about who is reading this blog, but rather that sharing my life in any format is cathartic.  I hope someone reads this, but I'm ok with sending my thoughts and ideas out into cyberspace to mingle with all the other thoughts and ideas out there never to pass in front of someone else's eyes. 

Why am I starting this now?  Why not just put pen to paper?  While I have my photography blog (and, yes, I do share some personal stuff there),  I want to be able to share even more stories about my life as a mom to two little girls who are addicted to barbies and the color pink as well as a wife to my sports-lovin', motorcyle-ridin' husband.  It's also about my mom - my rock - the woman I hope to grow up to be like someday.  In early August she was diagnosed with blood cancer.  I need to process the ramifications of that somehow and my way has always been to write.  To document.  And as a life chronicler and photographer, I needed to find a medium that would combine the two.  Hence, this blog was born!

So forgive my delusions.  Who knows...you might find out why I conform to all the preconceived notions about epic bazookas.