Happy (Almost) Valentines Day, And May it Be Bloodless This Year

Posted by Missy in Whatever | 15 comments

Last Valentine’s Day was a bloody mess.

I’m not trying to pretend I’m British. Last year there was actual blood, and lots of it.

And crying.

And a trip to the ER.

And, ultimately, an anxiety/exhaustion-induced chocolate binge that would put Night-Before-the-Diet-Starts-Oprah to shame. To shame.

The story, published previously on this blog, is below. Spoiler Alert: Although the blood was plentiful, the wound itself ended up being fairly tame. But… the whole thing still bothers me.

It bothers me that no matter what I do to keep my kids safe, they can still be in danger.

It really bothers me that danger lurks at my own dining room table, of all places.

It bothers me that ever since “the incident,” when you say Valentine’s Day, I say blergh. Not because it’s a ridiculous holiday (it kind of is), but because forever more I will equate the day with a trip to the ER, and with the terrifying worry known to mothers around the world.

But. Even though there’s no undoing the association, I have to admit these things:

• It all ended up just fine. In the grand scheme, our Valentine’s Day ER Adventure was but a flesh wound. (Not dead yet! Anyone want to name the film?)
• My kids are of the age when any reason to eat candy is most excellent. Therefore, Valentine’s Day rules.
• Who am I kidding? I love to eat candy. Therefore, Valentine’s Day rules.

Therefore… I’m going to enjoy the class parties with my kids, and make them heart-shaped toast on Tuesday, and give them boxes of chocolate. Because I love them, dearly, and as we’ve established more than once (today and previously), I love candy.

As for you, I wish for you a Happy Valentine’s Day 2012. I wish you love. At the very least, I wish you chocolate. The good stuff, not that creepy pink sugary filling crap.

For the new people around here, last year’s story follows.*

*Modified slightly from it’s original version. The facts and the characters remain the same, though.

***

I was feeling a bit behind on life. I felt like I was moving at warp speed, focusing on all of it – family, work, writing, blogging, all that other stuff we have to do every day – and none of it, simultaneously.

Then, around 6:15 on Monday night, Valentine’s Day 2011, my world stopped momentarily. The blog, the writing, my life and everything in between disappeared.

We were sitting at dinner, about to give the boys their little Valentine’s treats. P, who is 21 months old, was strapped into his booster seat. The seat was, of course, strapped to the dining chair. In his excitement over presents (“Prays!” he says), P pushed his feet against the table and launched straight back, like a tree falling in the forest.

And let me tell you, it does make a sound when a tree falls. It sounds like a clap of lightning followed by screaming. So much screaming.

I launched out of my own chair, Mark later noting that I looked like a cartoon version of myself, feet spinning, the air moving like a tornado around me. I bashed my arm on another chair, my hip on the table, nearly slipped, and narrowly missed falling on top of my wailing child, who was still strapped in his chair.

Mark and I reached P simultaneously. Mark undid the buckles while I scooped P, his mouth wide with a scream, into my arms. Instinctively I put my hand on the back of his head. I registered warmth and wetness.

Blood. And lots of it.

According to witnesses (okay, just Mark), my face went from Mom-Fear-Thinly-Veiled-as-Mom-Comfort to Blank to Panic in a sort of slow motion montage. No question, an ER trip was imminent.

As only parents can do, we put on our grown up pants, made our faces calm and our voices even. We rallied older brother, H, into the car and gently loaded P into his own seat.

I had this brief, bizarre internal debate with myself over strapping him into his car seat. I wanted to hold him, but I knew that I couldn’t. What if we had an accident on the way to the ER? The debate didn’t last long, but deciding to put him in a car seat made me ache, deep in my chest, down through my gut. Down into the mom soul.

My little debate with myself was another reminder that there is no end to a mother’s ability to feel… what?

To feel pain, guilt, fear, doubt.

To feel strength, courage, faith.

I wonder if I’ll ever know where to put all of these feelings, how to manage them. It’s as if they’re all careening around my heart and my mind, jockeying for my attention. Be proud! Be worried! Be joyous! Be pissed off!

P cried as I strapped him in the seat. He wanted to be held as much as I wanted to hold him. So the feelings jostled about, forcing me to use my brain and my heart together, ultimately putting his safety first and figuring out how to comfort him (and a worried big brother) in the process.

The rest of the story is standard fare, thank God.

P calmed down as soon as the car started rolling. He talked about the lights and cars we saw on the way, and I was reassured. A mother’s mind automatically goes to brain injury when her child’s head splits open. It was comforting to hear him chatter, to see him coherently take in his surroundings.

In the end, P got two staples in his head. He took them like a champ, sat up and said, “Home. Night-night.” Mark and I looked at him and said, “Yes, sir. That is exactly what we have in mind.”

And then I choked back a sob of grateful relief.

This was not our first trip to the ER. It was not even our first trip with P. Twice before – before this Valentine’s Day fiasco – I’ve felt time freeze and had fear render me temporarily blind, numb, breathless.

Twice, and now a third time, we’ve been abundantly blessed. The accidents, while scary in the moment, have been mild. Things often look way worse than they are. Yet another lesson motherhood hands us.

In my life with this little daredevil, danger magnet, I’m sure there will be more scary moments. And I will never be prepared for any of it. How could I be?

My prayer, though, is that it’s never scarier than this. That when it’s all said and done, we’ll be laughing, joking about our little Massive Headwound Harry, and saying prayers of thanksgiving that the world only stopped for a moment. And once that world started turning again, we were all whole, healthy, and together.

15 comments

Fear and Failure

Posted by Missy in Fitness, Whatever | 13 comments

I bought a road bike. She’s* real pretty. I got shoes that clip in and a fancy saddle so my delicates won’t hurt.

My new ride.

And now I guess I have to ride this bike.

I know it’s ridiculous, but this bike scares me. The clips scare me, because I will fall over. It’s simply a matter of when, not if. You all can start a betting pool now.

But it’s not only falling that scares me. Road rash and shame, unappealing though they are, are temporary. I’m much more afraid of that bike gathering dust in my garage. I look at it and hear the two voices that are constantly bickering inside my head:

Whheeee! A new bike! Just imagine all the great rides ahead of you.

vs.

When, exactly, do you plan to do all of this riding? And do you really expect to ever achieve anything bigger than finishing a little sprint triathlon? Who are you kidding, lady?

A) Don’t tell me you have peaceful silence in your head. Please tell me that you, too, have conflicting self-talk going on.

B) That second voice is bitchy, right?

I think that this latest fear – and doubt – are only a glimpse into my psyche. And possibly a lot of other psyches, as well. I can’t be alone, or else Pinterest, wouldn’t be plastered with quotes like this:

I’m a realist: I know that failure is always a possibility. I tell my kids that it’s much better to work hard and fail than to wonder what if…? And I believe that. I do.

And yet… I think I let the idea of failure hold me back more than I like to admit. You know, if I’m going to tell my kids that they have to be okay falling on their faces, I need to fall on mine sometimes.

I’ve heard people quote this line a few times – What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?

There’s something to that; I kind of think you do have to approach your goals under the delusion that you cannot, will not fail. But you also have to be prepared to fail, and accept failure as part of the learning process. Is that too Pollyanna?

Just for grins, if I could guarantee success here’s what I would do:

An Iron Man

This may truly may be hilarious, since I’m clearly never getting rid of my plantar faciitis, but still. This is a no-fail scenario, so bite me, plantar faciitis.

Act, On Stage, In a Play

I’ve always said I couldn’t be an actor, because I’m awful at it. That may be the case, but I have no idea if I’m awful or not. My last role was Big Billy Goat Gruff in kindergarten. But since this is a no fail thing, I’m probably going to walk away with a Tony.

This is real life, however, and not my no-fail la-la land. So I’m going to start by taking that bike out for a ride. If you see me, please maneuver your car way far away from me, so that you don’t run over me. And also so I don’t try to wave at you, causing me to lose my balance and fall over because I couldn’t get my feet out of those clips fast enough.

I wonder…

:: Cheesy though it is, what would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?

:: What are your wise words on tackling goals and trying new things?

*The bike is a she and she’s nameless. Any thoughts?

13 comments

Some Questions About Happiness

Posted by Missy in Whatever | 24 comments

P: We wuv wemontimes! Mmmm-mmm. Come wook, dey are in da bowl, and I happy!

Translation: We love clementines. There’s an entire bowl full of them, and that makes me happy!

Wemontimes.

Happiness. It comes so naturally to children, and I think growing up makes us get all wonky on the topic.

I want to do something different today, and just ask you some I wonder… questions without providing commentary first (anyone who knows me knows that this is a challenge akin to, say, becoming an astronaut). Your answers could be featured in an upcoming post that I’m working on about happiness. I have some opinions on the matter (shocker), but I’m curious to see where other people fall.

Thanks for helping me out. I intended to make sure the questions weren’t leading in any way, but may have failed. This is just one of the many reasons my news-ed journalism minor never got much use… objectivity is hard. *You should have read those last few words in a sarcastic, nasal whine, just FYI.*

Anyway.

I wonder…

:: Are you as happy as you thought you’d be when you imagined life as an adult? More? Less? Different? 

:: Are happiness and joy the same thing? Discuss…

:: Can failure and/or pain ever lead to happiness?

:: Does success equal happiness?

:: Are some people simply wired for happiness and other people wired for a life of Debbie Downer-ism?

:: What does true happiness look like to you? When and how often do you experience that?

24 comments

The Overhaul, A New Beginning

Posted by Missy in Whatever | 26 comments

Wahoo! Time to celebrate. (Photo credit: tsuacctnt on Flickr)

Ta-da! The bandages are off, and Wonder, Friend has a new face. Welcome!

{Before I get too far, I want to thank Jen from Blue Yonder Design for this new look. Jen’s a saint. A very patient saint.}

I go into some detail about the impetus behind this face lift, and my goals for the blog, on an all-new About the Blog page. I hope you’ll snoop around today and check out the two, new About pages. I also hope you’ll apply to write a guest post, but more on that in a bit.

If, however, you don’t have a lot of time to hang out on Wonder, Friend today, here’s some of what I have to say in About the Blog:

I took time off in late 2011 and thought about why I blog. I’m not going to give you the I do it for me, and don’t care if anyone is reading or not line. I probably would write even if nobody was reading, but it would not be very stimulating.

So the real deal? I blog because I think in written words.

I’m not a talker, or at least not a good one. Oh, to be a funny talker, as Mel Brooks says. But that’s not me. Words get stuck between my brain and my mouth, yet they have a relatively smooth path from brain to fingers. So I blog in order to share my thoughts, to ask questions, to connect.

I’ve always agonized over having a rhyme and reason to my posts, and since I rarely achieve consistent rhyme or reason, you can imagine the turmoil. During what I’ve come to call (sound effects, please: bum, bum, bum) Blogging Hiatus of 2011, I arrived at this (it’s so obvious and why didn’t I accept this before) conclusion: Wonder, Friend is my blog, and I can write anything, everything, or nothing of consequence. The only common thread needed here? Me.

Oh, and wondering. That’s a key element I try to always incorporate (it is in the blog’s name, after all). A lot of life leaves me thinking I wonder… how that works or why that happens or can I recover from this? Therefore, most – not all, but most – of my posts close with a question for readers. I want to open up a dialogue in the comments, so stop by and share your thoughts, your advice, your funny or sad stories.

About those guest-posts I mentioned earlier…

For me, the best part of the blogosphere is exposure to ideas and people we would otherwise never consider, never know. I want to share some of those brilliant, funny, thoughtful people on Wonder, Friend. Starting next week, Wednesdays* are reserved for guest bloggers. If you’re interested – and you are, I hope – I’m not too proud to beg, but please don’t make me resort to that – click here and fill out the form. I’ll be in touch about dates.

Thanks for sticking with me through (bum, bum, bum) Blog Hiatus 2011. I’m thrilled to be back in this familiar space, refreshed with a new look. And a new perspective. I look forward to wondering with you!

Speaking of that, I wonder…

:: When did you last overhaul something, whether your blog space, your living or work space, yourself? What was the impetus for that overhaul?

*Some Wednesdays, such as busy holiday weeks and Spring Break, will not feature a guest blogger.

26 comments

Don’t Taunt the Pollen, and A Little Business

Posted by Missy in Whatever | 6 comments

I taunted. Apparently, I touched a nerve.

Payback is hell, and I have the snot to prove it. What’s that? Speak up, for congestion’s sake, because my head is so full of gunk that I cannot hear you. I had to turn up my Murder She Wrote rerun so loud that Sheriff Tupper can hear it in heaven (God rest your soul, Tom Bosley).

That’s right. I’m watching Murder She Wrote and making a list on a notepad – the kind made of actual paper. I’m also bundled up in my husband’s sweatshirt and surrounded by used tissues.

Hypothesis: Cedar Fever causes rapid aging.

Pitiful me. Not really this rainbow-y.

Like I was saying, it never pays to be mean. So I’m apologizing to you, the cedar trees of the world. I’m sorry I said such hurtful things about your intelligence and beauty. To be fair, you have neither, but I’m still sorry. Are you happy now that I’m contrite? Can you give up and leave us all alone now?

Yeah, not the greatest apology ever. Hopefully the trees bought it, though.

As for the business…

1. The new and improved Wonder, Friend unveiling is about one week away. I’m so excited my ears just popped! But I wanted to let all my readers – all nine of you who stuck with me through the blog boycott of ’11 – that the site may be down off and on for the next week. It may be down all weekend, plus a day or two next week. I don’t have specifics, but just know that if you pop by and can’t find me, that’s what’s going on.
2. Speaking of new and improved, I’m looking for guest posts. From you! If you’re interested, contact me and I’ll send you the details. The short version: I want to feature a wide variety of writers (you don’t have to be a blogger) on the new site. You can post about anything – serious or silly, long or short – as long as you are wondering about something. Want in? Tweet or Facebook me, or leave a comment here, and I’ll send you more information. And as always, I’m happy to return the favor. In fact, I would be honored to post for you any time.

That’s all for today. I’d write more, but I have to go pour salt water in one nostril and hope it comes out through the other nostril.

See you next week (hoping to get a post or two up, even though there will be some downtime).

6 comments

Hormonal Hijinks, The #PMSChronicles

Posted by Missy in Whatever | 8 comments

The speaker at a Bible study I attended years ago said, “Hormones are no excuse for bad behavior.” And ever since, I’ve felt guilty when I act like a nut or eat a party-sized bag of M&M’s. I think, I’m supposed to be in charge here and I’m (wrongly) using my hormones as an excuse.

Dude, I call bull-honky. Hormones mess with your head. And your stomach. And even your muscles.

I’m too (tired, hungry, cranky – pick any or all) to go in search of scientific proof at this moment – besides, I’m very busy chugging my third cup of coffee and daydreaming about chocolate chip cookies, and I can tell you without needing scientific proof that there is only one time each month that I feel the need for a third cup of coffee – but I’m willing to bet there IS proof floating around out there. Proof that hormones cause major changes, physical and mental. If you’re a doctor or a scientist, feel free to chime in, but only if you’re agreeing with me, because I’ll probably cry today if you disagree with me.

I haven’t kept a notebook or anything, but I’ve started noticing a few patterns. And yes, it’s taken nearly three decades to pick up on these patterns, but nobody ever said I was quick. So. The patterns:

So I was thinking – and hoping – that I cannot be alone here. Surely someone else has felt the tears well up at HEB because there was no organic, fat-free milk. Surely someone else has gone postal over the sound of her husband chewing. Surely someone else has thought chips, guacamole, and Schweddy Balls ice cream is an acceptable dinner. And yes, I see the connection in those examples: food seems to be a big part of this phenom.

I debated, and wondered if this could be in bad taste, and then I decided that I’m not so worried about that (let the record show that I feel like I have a cold today). I decided it could be fun – and kind of reassuring – to have a place to share your crazies.

Once a month I’m going to put a linky on Wonder, Friend, where we can post our PMS Chronicles. Next month, I’ll have a button for you, but for this month, just feel free to link up a post – new or old – in which you talk about a rash decision you made under hormonal distress, or a rotten day that you know should be chalked up to your Ladies Days (what Mark calls them, thanks to Ray Romano).

I hope you’ll help me feel less nutty. Link up! This linky will be open until midnight, January 13, at which point I should no longer be craving junk food. If you want to tweet about it, please use the hashtag #PMSChronicles. Thanks!

I wonder…

8 comments