PT Graduate

Today I graduated from physical therapy, and it honestly felt like a miracle. When I injured my knee back in August and after I had my surgery in September, there were many times when I wondered if I would ever regain a full range of motion or be able to do simple things without a great degree of pain. But, after months of hard work, I am mostly there. I do still have some work to do, and I haven't yet been cleared for all the activities I would like to do, but I am pleased with the progress I've made. I am so thankful to my therapist, Lisa, and the support staff that encouraged me and pushed me to do more than I thought I could. I plan to keep working, and I look forward to getting back to my normal level of activity, but today I am celebrating this victory that once seemed out of reach. 

Unbound

One week ago, I was set free from my hip-to-ankle knee brace prison, which broke my entire leg out in a rash and which had to be locked into the straight position at night, making it impossible to get a full night's sleep. That freedom came six weeks after I had my knee surgery, but in the four weeks before the surgery, I was held hostage by lesser contraptions, for a grand total of 80 days of varying degrees of immobility. Truly, though, it felt like a much longer period of time, and I often wondered if I would ever emerge on the other side. (They tell me that, even though I am free of the brace, my full range of mobility will not return for at least another six months. But, just having the brace off makes me feel human again, and that's definitely a good feeling!)

When the brace came off, I felt a wave of freedom shake me from head to toe. It seemed to go deeper than the bending and straightening my knee. So I started to probe a bit to see if I could figure out what was going on inside my own head. And it wasn't until that day that I realized just how deep my bondage was. It certainly wasn't just physical. The injury, loss of freedom, lack of sleep, pain, and knowledge that life can turn on a dime congealed in my mind to create an atmosphere of fear, anxiety, depression, negativity, and insecurity. I lost all interest in my Year of Firsts (though I kept doing them, out of a sense of duty I suppose), and every new thing (and quite a few old-hat things) I faced seemed like they had the potential to be the RipStik all over again. I struggled to muster up the courage to take any risks, no matter how small. I honestly felt paralyzed in so many ways, and I wasn't fully connecting the injury to my mental state. But, when the brace came off, I instantly felt clarity in the situation and recognized it for what it was.

This week has been full of freedoms in mind and body, and I feel much more like myself. I feel like trying new things and embracing challenges again. And I don't feel afraid or anxious of every single situation. In order to ditch the brace, I had to prove to my physical therapist that I could push through the pain and that I could build up the appropriate strength. To be truly unbound in my mind, there are similar hurdles to overcome.  I suspect this knee injury isn't yet finished with all the lessons it has to teach me, and I hope I have the grace and open-mindedness to receive them well as I work to make my mind stronger and more fit, just as I continue to work on physical strength and fitness.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery

All day today, Clay has been walking with "crutches." Sometimes his right knee hurts (just like mine), but sometimes it's both legs and his neck.

While I was making something new for dinner (my First for today), he came in and announced that he had "accomplished [his] task for the day!" Clearly, he's trying to show a little solidarity and in the process has absolutely melted my heart!

Imitation is truly the sincerest form of flattery!

Diagnosis and Next Steps

So many of you have been incredibly kind and thoughtful to check on me and offer assistance since I injured my knee, so I thought you might be interested in hearing about my visit with the orthopedic doctor today. The ACL is definitely torn (actually "gone" is the word the doctor used when he showed me the images produced by the MRI) and a meniscus is torn. I have a month of physical therapy ahead of me before I can go in for surgery and then several more months of PT to get back to the active lifestyle I desire. The surgery has been scheduled for September 22, and I'm so thankful to have the ball rolling in a recovery direction. Thank you all for your concern and wishes for a quick recovery.

Thankful

If you are following my Year of Firsts blog, you know that I injured my knee and am now hobbling around on crutches while wearing a giant knee brace. There was a moment this morning when I was tempted to give in to the "poor mes," but when I opened my eyes and looked around, all I could see was how much I have to be thankful for. In no particular order, here is what I'm thankful for today:

• I live in a one-story house.
• I have big kids that can get their own food, take their own baths, stay at the house while Jeff takes me to the doctor, work mostly independently or assist each other on school assignments, and help around the house in so many ways, plus one that is even able to drive.
• Jeff has a flexible schedule and is home most of the time.
• I do not have an out-of-home job I have to go to.
• The master shower that I have had contempt for since we moved into the house has a built-in seat and a combo shower head, which can easily be used as a handheld sprayer. 
• I have a network of extended family and friends who are willing to help out at a moment's notice and who are checking on me and praying for me.
• My sweet, sweet husband and kiddos who are quick to anticipate, inquire about, and meet my needs and who care deeply about my well being.
• An opportunity to practice patience and stillness, which are skills I definitely need to improve. 

Beer, Bob's, Bill, and a Big Boo-boo

We made the short drive to Colorado this morning, and our first stop was Golden, home of the Coors Brewery, which is the largest single-site brewery in the world. It was fascinating to behold the massive manufacturing facility and to see some of the machinery at work. It was a family-friendly tour, with age-appropriate samples at the end.

Coors Brewery

The malting room was a feast for the senses

One of the brewery's science labs

Watching 12 and 18-packs coming off the line

Cheers!

After the tour, we grabbed a late but delicious lunch at Bob's Atomic Burger, a local burger joint occupying the back end of a liquor store.

Beating a path to Bob's

Nothing but delicious

From there, we headed up to Lookout Mountain, the final resting place of Buffalo Bill Cody and home to a museum honoring his life's work. It is also a lovely perch from which to view Denver and the surrounding area.

The graves of Buffalo Bills and his wife

Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley

Cowboy Clay rides again

Weston tries his hand at roping

A teepee for two

View of Denver from lookout Mountain

Well, I had this post all typed out and ready to publish, thinking all our adventures we're over for the day. But then Weston came back from the shower, with a story of slippage and a major gash in his hand. We quickly determined that it was going to require more than a Band-aid, so Jeff called an Uber and took Weston to the nearest urgent care facility, where he received four stitches. Now, I think our adventures are truly over for the day.

He survived and will have the scar to prove it

A reason to smile

When I was 8 or 10, my friend and I were playing around in a golf cart. We were seeing how fast we could go around corners, and for some stupid reason (possibly the same stupid reason that had me participating in this activity in the first place), I was waving my hands in the air like I just didn't care instead of holding on. But, as I slid across the gravel road on my face, I began to care very much. Once we got the bleeding stopped, it became clear that half of my front tooth was missing. Our family dentist was able to repair it with a crown, and that was that. Or so I thought.

About two years ago, I started having intermittent intense pain and random swelling in my face. A year after that, I finally found out what was causing it: The root of the injured tooth was seriously infected and beyond repair. So my dentist and I decided it would have to come out and an implant would have to be placed and a new permanent crown installed. Without going into too many of the gory physical and emotional details, I can tell you that the final step of the process happened today. I got my new tooth, just in time for Thanksgiving. It feels ridiculously odd in my mouth right now, and I am still in some pain from the procedure, but I am so thankful to have it finally and firmly in place. I am also thankful for the two dentists (one in Marble Falls, Texas and one in Dublin, Ireland) that worked hard to accommodate my crazy travel schedule in order to get it done. I truly have many reasons to smile.

Bring on the turkey! 

My sweet family presented me with flowers and chocolate
to celebrate my new tooth. Another reason (or five) to smile!

Beer Beach

Yesterday afternoon, we walked over to Beer Beach and spent several lovely hours there. The beach is entirely made of smooth rocks of various sizes and colors, which was paradise for our three young lads. We also stopped at Ducky's beach cafe for ice cream and "cream tea," which is a local specialty and was absolutely delicious. We visited the fish market but ultimately decided we'd like to have someone else dress and prepare our fish, so we didn't buy anything. Finally, we made our way to the playground for a swinging good time. While Jeff had the kids corralled there, I decided to explore the coastal path and take in the sweeping vistas of the Channel. At one point, I lost my footing and splattered all over the ground. All kinds of thoughts go through your head when your are flat on your rear on the side of a hill. Turns out I'm pretty shallow and not all that concerned with my well-being. My thought process went like this:

Did anyone see me? No, thankfully, there's no one around.

Did I break my camera? No. Thank goodness.

Did I tear my pants? No, but they are filthy. I'll have to change before dinner, but I was going to wash them the next time we did laundry anyway, so it could have been worse.

Am I hurt? Not seriously-- just a couple of bumps and bruises-- but I will definitely be sore tomorrow.

Wait. There's no one around. I could have killed myself and no one would have known.

But at least I didn't tear my pants.

Jeff and I had a 5-minute date on the beach, while the kids ordered their ice cream.
Believe me, that counts. So, we needed a selfie to prove it.

Ice cream on the beach

Our cream tea was absolutely delightful. 

All of the rocks were special and needed to be brought home.

Beer Beach 

We felt there could be pirates lurking anywhere.

There is simply no joy like an unlimited pile of rocks to throw into the sea!

Cute little beach huts

Right after I took this picture, I found myself down on the ground in a most undignified position.

Beer Beach, with our caravan park on the hill in the distance

Fun for everyone!

Clay was happy to find a statue of Tom and Jerry

All I want for Christmas is a new front tooth

When I was about 9 or 10 years old, I was thrown from a swiftly moving golf cart, while laughing hysterically. Right up until the time my face made contact with the earth and the rest of my body came skidding along behind it. At that point, the fun and games pretty much seemed to have run their course. When I got to my feet, I was a bloody mess, with more than a few pieces of gravel embedded in my knee and a significant portion of my permanent (not-so-permanent) front tooth broken off and planted in my lower lip. A root canal followed sometime later, along with the building of a fake tooth. And, that was that.

Flash forward a few decades. You may remember that I had some "mysterious face pain" a little over a year ago. I convinced myself that I had a crazy sinus infection, and when the pain went away after a few days, I mentally patted myself on the back for having been right.

But then, about a month ago, I experienced a day of pretty intense pain in my front tooth, followed by two days of ridiculous celebrity-facelift-gone-wrong swelling in my lip and face. I made an appointment with the dentist. She recommended I see her husband, the oral surgeon, to discuss a procedure that seemed fantastically over-the-top to me. I politely made the appointment but cancelled it when I got home, because I was no longer experiencing pain and swelling, and it all just seemed like too much. I mean one day of pain a year didn't really seem like that big a deal compared to the very involved and expensive procedure she was suggesting.

And, then, three days ago, someone hit the replay button on the days of pain and swelling, and I realized things might be worse than I thought. I rescheduled my appointment with the oral surgeon for today. As he showed me the x-ray, he explained that I have a fractured root and diminishing bone. He continued by telling me the problem will only get worse, and I will have more and more days of pain and swelling unless the tooth comes out. But, since it's a front tooth, and since I'm rather vain, it's not enough to just take it out. It must be replaced with an implant, which requires a bone graft, which will require months of healing before the implant can even be placed. Throw in a serious time crunch because of an already-scheduled trip around the world, and you can see what an awesome situation this is.

So, long story short, in ten days, I will begin the process, with the tooth extraction and bone graft. We won't really know how the rest of the story looks until the doctor has a chance to see what the existing bone looks like. It wasn't exactly what I wanted for Christmas, but it is a gift that will keep on giving, so there's that.

Extreme Tuesday

It was one of those extreme kind of days. We arrived at CC, only to find that I had forgotten the drop cloth for our painting project. I texted Jeff, who I thought was working in town, to see if he could come to the rescue. He was actually back at the house, and our communication was out of sync, so he was on his way back into town to save me before I had a chance to tell him just to forget it. So, then he ended up just working in town all day. Meanwhile, Clay was going through clothes and snacks like there was no tomorrow. Max and Weston were both kids of the week, so we celebrated after CC with dinner at KFC/Long John Silver. At 4:30. Because that's how we roll. The three oldest kids had sports practices in three different locations, starting at 5:30, and I was scheduled to conduct a CC info. meeting at 6:00 and then swing by a social gathering with one of the local homeschool groups at 7:30. So, Jeff took the kids and dropped them off at their various locations, and I took myself to my meeting. And, that was the last thing that went according to plan.

Just as I started my meeting, Jeff called, and since I knew he knew I was in a meeting, I answered, because I thought it might be important. Sure enough, Clay had fallen on the bleachers, and Jeff was gathering him up to go the the urgent care clinic for stitches. So, Jeff had the two youngest, but this was going to leave the other kids stranded at their practices. I wrapped up my meeting as quickly as possible and raced over to get Weston from his baseball try-out, and then headed back across town to get Ruth from basketball practice. Weston's basketball team was still practicing when we got there, so he stayed for the remainder of that practice, before we headed to the clinic to pick up Max and check on Claycito. Clay's chin was bandaged up, and he had soaked through his last set of clothes. So, I left him with Jeff, wearing nothing but a diaper, to get three stitches in his chin, while I took the big kids home for much needed baths at the end of a long day. Poor little guy. But, he's seems not to mind too much. In fact, before bed, he prayed, "Thank you I can go doctor and get crayons." A good reminder to look on the bright side.

The Case of the Mysterious Face Pain

Sorry for the lack of posts this week. I don't want to be a whiner, but one of the reasons they've been so sparse is because I have been drained of all creativity, and even mundanity, by this throbbing pain in my face that just won't quit. I cannot tell weather the pain is coming from my tooth, gums, upper lip, nose or sinus cavity, but the left side of my face feels pretty much like it's been 10 rounds on the losing side of a boxing match. And Jeff even noticed this morning that my cheek and lip seemed a little swollen. I have no other symptoms and can think of no event that would have led to this condition. Pain meds and ice don't seem to help much, so I'm off to the doctor this afternoon to see if this mystery can be solved.

Stiff necked and twinkle toed

On Thursday, Nana picked up Clay to take him with her as the Watts' representative at the Wainscott Reunion. He was thrilled to have the grandparents and great-grandparents all to himself for a few days!

Ruth spent the evening with her friends on Friday, so the rest of us had dinner at Chili's and then came home to watch a movie.

Apparently, Jeff slept crazy Friday night and woke up yesterday morning with a terrible crick in his neck. He has tried ice, heat, massage chair, peppermint oil, Advil and rest, to no avail. It just continues to plague him. If you have any sure-fire helps for that sort of thing, please pass them along.

Yesterday morning was also consumed with sports. Max and Weston had football games in Marble Falls, and Ruth was playing volleyball in Burnet. We had to divide and conquer, since the volleyball game was at the same time as one of the football games. Because I hadn't yet seen Max play football, and since the volleyball season lasts a little longer, I was Football Mom and Jeff was Volleyball Dad.

Since Clay had other engagements, we decided to spend some time this weekend doing things that are less fun when a toddler is involved, so after the second football game, we headed over to the movie theater to see "Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs 2," which we all thoroughly enjoyed. When it was over, Ruth and I went shopping and got matching pedicures. Ruth says I always pick the same two or three colors, so I let her pick our color, which is a delightful sparkly gold. I'm so glad I have people in my life to push me to get out of my ruts! Meanwhile, the boys went back to the house to watch football and play video games. Ruth and I made it home just in time to watch the Aggies play. It was an unnecessarily stressful game, but we were glad to see the Aggies gather up another "W."

We had planned to climb Enchanted Rock today, but with all the rain yesterday and the predicted rain for today, we thought it might be a bit slippery and wet. It was just as well, though, because the kids were able to finish up their weekly chores, and then watch a movie, and I was able to get some work done.

Our weekend ended with dinner with my parents in Lampasas and the retrieval of our little Claycito. All in all, it was a pretty good weekend. What did you do this weekend?

A face only a mother could love

Have you ever seen anything so pitiful? This kid has literally been taking it on the chin lately. It started with the chin-splitting incident out at the ranch, just before the new year. Then, the day we got home from the cruise, Max eagerly worked with Jeff to set up the zip line he got for his birthday. He took to that like he takes to everything: full force. Unfortunately, the lower part of his face was the first part of him to meet with the tree. (As an aside, let me just say that the zip line was one of those really challenging gifts that put my mother's desire to give her child a gift he would REALLY love at odds with her desire to keep him safe. In truth, it was his father who pushed me to buy the unsafe, but super-fun gift, which is now off-limits until it can be made a bit more safe or until the users can figure out how to stop themselves with more reasonable body parts.) Today, he managed to take a swing to the face, which reopened the busted lip and put a nice little bump on his forehead. And not an hour later, he had bumped his chin and reopened yet another wound. There has been a tremendous amount of crying and bleeding. It breaks my heart. But, seriously, I do love this face!

It's all downhill from there

We are home from our two-week tour of Texas, and we had a wonderful trip! Lots of dirt, delicious food, game playing and visiting with friends and family. Today, it was back to reality, in so many ways. One of the fun things about coming home from vacation is that there is always a day or so of behavior issues to deal with--just so the kids can find out if the rules have changed while we were away. The rules never do change, but the kids insist on checking anyway. At one point today, Weston was sitting on the stone bench right outside the kitchen, that will one day surround our yet-to-be-purchased hot tub. For now, this area is strictly off-limits to the kids, as it is quite a safety hazard. There is a precarious pile of dirt and gravel just beyond the bench and a fairly deep drop-off to the slab for the future hot tub. So, Weston was sitting there, specifically to see if we still had rules about that. Well, we do. So, I opened the kitchen door to tell him to go play somewhere else. He took that opportunity to see if we still have rules in place about back-talking. Well, we do. So, I took a step toward him and took hold of his arm to get his attention. The next thing I knew we were both rolling down the gravel hill. It was maybe the biggest parenting fail of all time! Weston was scared stiff, and he scraped up his elbow and neck a little. But, I came out far worse than he did. I scraped my ankle, my knee, my hip, my hand and my elbow, and was in no position to issue punishments. And, worse than that, my pride was wounded something serious. I mean, I don't even remember the last time I scraped up my knee in the gravel! It was the most ridiculous thing ever! But, at least I didn't rip my pants or something on the way down! The last few weeks of 34 have certainly been interesting. I hope it's not telling of what 35 is going to look like.

What a headache!!

On Saturday, we dropped the big kids off at my parents' so they could begin their Nana Camp adventures. On Sunday morning, Mom called to say that all three kids had been throwing up and having diarrhea all night. They weren't feverish and felt fine between spells, so we decided it was probably food poisoning and to wait and see how the day progressed before pulling the plug on Nana Camp. Meanwhile, at our house, Jeff had woken up with much the same problem and proceeded to spend the rest of the day zonked out on the couch. Mom called several hours later to report that the kids seemed to be feeling pretty good and were all loathe to give up their Nana Camp, so off they all went to Port Aransas, and they having been feeling good and having fun ever since.

Clay and I had not felt even a flutter of the tummy bug, confirming the food poisoning theory. I was determined not to be sick, regardless, because I had a very busy week ahead, teaching a class for new and returning CC tutors and helping with the CC conference on our campus. As I prepared for bed last night, I was joking along these lines, telling Jeff I would just have to blow him a kiss goodnight, since I couldn't risk getting sick.

Well, about 1:30 am, I woke up and needed to go to the restroom. And that's where my plan broke down. And, where my memory starts to have gaps. Either before I actually made it to the restroom or right after, I felt a bit dizzy and thought I would just grab hold of the counter for a moment to steady myself. The next thing I knew, I was feeling a cold, hardness underneath me and a crazy stinging in my eyes. And, a little while later I realized I was lying on the bathroom floor, vomiting. I rolled over to my side, to try keep further debris from my eyes, and that's when I realized that my head hurt really, really badly. I reached up to touch it, noticed that it felt wrong, and surmised that I was having that dream of everything going wrong before a big event. This wasn't happening, it was just the stress in my head getting to me. Oh, but the headache just would not quit! I tried to find my voice, but, instead, only heard myself moaning.

Jeff had heard me get up and heard me throwing up but had assumed that I had caught what the rest of the family had and wasn't too worried. He heard me hit the floor, but in his middle-of-the-night fog, thought the crash was coming from outside. Eventually, he called out to see if I was all right, and I finally found my voice long enough to utter his name with some urgency. Imagine his surprise when he entered the bathroom, to find me lying in a pool of my own vomit and blood. He was talking to me, but I couldn't really make sense of his words. And then, he was trying to clean me up. When I went into the fetal position in the shower, cringing at every touch to my head, he declared that we were headed to the ER. I was in no position to argue, so off we went.

After administering an EKG, a CT scan, an i.v. and a shot of morphine, they began the process of trying to clean me up. When they finally got down to the wound itself, they determined I would need 8 staples to close up the 2-3 inch long gash. The sight of the staple gun terrified me, but with all the numbing shots and morphine, the installation of the staples wasn't too bad. And, fortunately, they didn't have to shave my head--just trim the hair in a few places. The CT scan reported no problems, but the EKG showed that I have Prolonged QT Syndrome, a congenital arrhythmia in the heart that may cause episodes of fainting. They don't know for sure that that is what caused me to pass out, but they did recommend I follow up with a cardiologist.

So, 2 1/2 hours later, I left the ER with a head full of staples, a prescription for pain meds and anti-nausea meds, and the worst headache of my life.

Needless to say, I didn't make it to my class today. My wonderful in-laws were here babysitting Clay and myself, while Jeff was in Austin. They were taking care, not only of us, but the house and laundry as well. I'm taking the pain meds and am resting, and obviously, have lived to blog another day. I hope to be back to my normal self before too many more days. The staples will come out in a week, and hopefully, the headache will go away before that. If it weren't for that pain, though, I would definitely feel like I was living in some made up drama. I have never, ever done anything like this before, and I hope to never do it again!

My new, fancy hair accessories

Another Day, Another Bloodbath

Yesterday, the three big kids were jumping off of something they shouldn't have been (air conditioner units), and, not surprisingly, someone got hurt. It was Max. Weston came running in the house, yelling about Max losing all his teeth. I rushed outside to find Ruth sweetly carrying Max to the door. There was blood everywhere. And, Max was demanding I put a band-aid on it. Fortunately, no teeth were missing, even though he did have a nasty busted lip.

Today, the boys were jumping on something they had permission to jump on (the trampoline) and, not surprisingly, someone got hurt. It was Max. Weston came running in, saying that Max was dripping blood all over the trampoline. Max had tried to do a flip and had smashed his knee into his nose. I rushed outside to find Max in hysterics. There was blood everywhere. And, Max was demanding I put a band-aid on it. Fortunately, his nose wasn't broken.

Blood doesn't make me queasy at all, but I certainly hope to see much less of it tomorrow.

The Tuesday Circus

I know I don't have to tell you that this day started with spilled juice, but in the interest of clarification, that is exactly where I will begin. So, the first thing that happened today was that Max spilled juice all over the inside and outside of the refrigerator, while trying to free it from it's chilly home inside said appliance. This, I realized, was my own fault for leaving the lid of the pitcher turned to the "pour" position when I put it in the fridge and for encouraging my children to be independent. So, I turned the lid (which is significant) and assisted in the clean up. That same child then proceeded to add milk to his cereal and slosh it all over the kitchen, as he made his way to his seat. Then, Weston entered the kitchen and made a beeline for the juice. He yanked the pitcher out of the fridge and began pouring. But, of course, nothing came out. So, instead of stopping to investigate, he just kept tipping the pitcher...until the lid just couldn't take the pressure and popped right off. The counter and lower shelves were doused, and multiple towels were tinted orange in the clean up process. Then, for reasons I can't even begin to understand, Weston decided to put semi-melted butter in his cereal, which, of course, made it taste disgusting. Which, in turn, caused Weston to attempt to sneak it into the trash when he thought I wasn't looking. Which then prompted me to declare him finished with breakfast and send him away from the table. Which sent him into a bawling fit (because, after all, he was in danger of starving to death, since he only got to have one bowl of cereal for breakfast, instead of two) that lasted an absurd amount of time and got him hand-delivered to his bedroom.

The rest of the morning actually went along fairly well, and was even somewhat productive. While I worked on laundry, the two oldest kids were given "special projects" to work on. Ruth was directed to the upstairs storage closet, with the incentive that, if we could get it cleaned up and organized, she could set up her new sewing machine in there and have a nice little sewing area all her own. That was motivation enough, and she eagerly set to work and had much to show for her efforts by lunchtime. Meanwhile, Weston worked out in the garage, transferring our Campmeeting linens from the oh-so-useless contractor bags they were stored in to some sturdy duffle bags and storage boxes.

After lunch, the action picked up again. As I may have mentioned in a previous post, Clay is obsessed with, well, everything that he shouldn't be. He is in to everything these days: cabinets, drawers, potties, shelves, trash cans, etc. He is especially enamored with the side table in the living room, where we keep the remotes, and where we often put our laptops and phones while they are charging. (Plus a variety of other things that just need a landing place). We have tried pushing everything as far back as possible, blocking the area off with ottomans, swatting his hand, redirecting him to another area and various other dissuading techniques. But, he is determined to get a hold of whatever lies on top of that particular table, which he can just reach by standing on his tippy-toes. It's maddening. So, today, I was sitting in my awesome zebra lounge chair near that table, working on some task or another on my laptop. Clay came over and started grabbing things like a maniac. I was trying to keep him at bay, while also trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Finally, he snagged something, and commanded my full attention. But, when I turned to reacquire whatever he had in his hand, my laptop slipped off my lap and hit the concrete floor with a sickening thud. Now, I'm no techie, but I do know that computers and concrete don't mix. And, that idea proved true when I recovered the laptop and found it rendered completely useless. And, this, after I was just telling Jeff that I might need to think about the possibility of getting new computer because mine was "being weird." (Yes, that's just the technical language I used.)

So it was with a knot in my stomach that I approached the next task before me: plantar wart removal from both Ruth's and Weston's feet. These kids run around barefoot all the time in the most unsanitary of conditions, so the fact that they had warts, while fairly revolting to me, was not surprising. Weston actually had seven or eight on the bottoms of his feet, and Ruth had two. I warned the kids that the stuff (again a technical term) would sting a little and then set to work. (I should tell you that the setting for this event was my bathroom, with both "patients" alternately sitting on the edge of and falling into the tub; Max hopping around, knocking decorations over; and Clay pulling things out of the drawers like his life depended on it.) Weston was to go first, according to the arrangement he and Ruth had made previously. He laughingly ouched his way through all seven applications of Freeze Away, and then it was Ruth's turn. She was almost in tears before I even touched her foot, and after one application, she ran from the room, bawling, and refused to allow me anywhere near her other wart. She cried for a ridiculous amount of time, and finally admitted to me that the reason she was crying was because she was so mad that Weston had gone through with it and she hadn't.

Not long after that, Jeff came home briefly--from a day of meetings in Austin--before heading out to another meeting in Marble Falls. He doctored my computer and got it somewhat functional, while I was trying to put together a lasagna and we were chatting about our days.  I was so distracted that I left out a layer of noodles and all of the mozzarella cheese (except for the very thick layer on top, once I realized my mistake). Fortunately, it's hard to ruin lasagna, and the kids all said it was delicious. (I haven't had any yet because I'm hoping to have a romantic relatively quiet, at-home date with my Sweetie when he gets in from his meeting). Since I wasn't eating dinner, I wasn't sitting at the table, and at one point the kids got up a rousing game of musical chairs, while I was out of the room. And, now, having finished dinner, I believe they are out rustling cattle on their bikes. If you think my life is boring, people, you are completely wrong. Your household runs at this level of insanity, too, right?! I'd love to hear some of your stories, so don't be afraid of that little comment button at the bottom of the post. I need to know I'm not alone here.

Death at the doorstep

Obviously, we are all just a breath away from death. But, at our house, someone always seems to be dying. At least that's how it sounds. So, I've made a little list of some of the ways death comes to us.*

• cactus spines
• fire ant bites
• face-plant on the concrete while rollerskating
• caterpillar stings
• (accidental) murder by a brother, with a fireplace poker to the eye
• skinned knees and elbows (only fatal if an adult is watching)
• self-inflicted sledge hammer to the eye
• ear infections
• stubbed toes
• bath water too hot
• bath water too cold
• soap in the eye
• teething
• headaches
• pulled hair
• cuts completely invisible to the naked eye
• bonked heads
• smashed fingers
• nightmares
• falling to the ground while attempting to ride the garage door up
• perceived injustices
• being told to "go play outside"
• ingesting raw shrimp**

*No one has actually died, or even been seriously injured. It just sounds that way.

**The shrimp incident did not produce death cries on it's own. My reaction to that event is what brought on the near-death hysteria.

Adventures in the Wild West

Our adventure begins on the Friday after Thanksgiving...

Unable to resist the Siren song of Black Friday, Jeff began his shopping around 6:00 am. Of course, his only destination was HEB, and his only goal was to buy milk, so we could hit the road. So, with the milk purchased and the Thanksgiving leftovers packed up, we headed west. Our first stop was Evridge's furniture store in Brady, where we purchased a sofa and the coolest chair ever. They will be delivered on Tuesday, so check back later for pictures. Having done that, we made our way to our ultimate destination: the family ranch. We got there in time to don our camo, set out some live traps and track down a javelina for Weston to take a shot at. He hit the pig, but it ran off in the brush where we couldn't find it.

tiny hunter

camo boys

baiting Grandpa's trap

the mighty trapper

getting it set

unsuspecting javelina

taking aim

Saturday was Weston's birthday, so we let him set the program for the day. His first priority was to check the traps. Sure enough, he had caught a coon, which was probably the best birthday present he could have gotten. After checking the traps, we decided to head for the house for breakfast. With temperatures dropping and moisture levels rising, we urged my father-in-law to get us home quickly, especially since we were all piled up in the open-air Ranger. He found a relatively smooth patch of dirt road and hit the gas. With two adults and a kid in the front seat and three adults, each with a child on her lap in the back seat, we were probably overloaded. My attention was turned to keeping myself and my seat partner warm and dry, and the next thing I knew, Max and I were sailing through the air and landing in the brush. My knee was hurting, but my main concern was for Max. The rest of the group was there with us almost instantly, and my father-in-law took quite a tongue lashing from a scared-but-not-seriously-injured Max about driving too fast. While Jeff checked Max for broken bones, my sister-in-law was checking on me. After I caught my breath, I was ready to get up. She and Jeff flanked me and helped me up, which I declared made me feel dizzy. And then the world went black. I passed out right there in the middle of the pasture and woke up 10 seconds later, completely confused about where I was or what I was doing and wondering why on earth my stomach was so cold. (Jeff had raised my shirt a little hoping the cool air would revive me, which I guess it did). It was a crazy experience. They finally got Max and me loaded back up in the Ranger, and I then spent the rest of the day with my left knee iced and elevated. And we did go on to have a nice little birthday celebration for Weston.

before the accident, with my little camo buddy 

Weston's birthday coon

birthday breakfast

deer hunting toy

Weston loves longnecks

Sunday was uneventful. It was cold, so we spent most of the day inside, playing games and drinking warm drinks. The kids went out hunting with Dad and Grandpa, but didn't see much. At 6:00 am on Monday morning, Ruth entering our bedroom, saying she had just thrown up upstairs. She then went on to throw up several more times in our bathroom. Just as I got her settled on the couch, Max entered the room, following her example. Max was back in the game very quickly and spent much of the day playing outside. By the afternoon, Ruth was feeling better, too.

log rolling 

fun in the sandbox

feeling good and looking good

Tuesday was Ruth's half-birthday, so it was her turn in the limelight. She went walking with her aunt, and found a lucky horseshoe, and while hunting with her dad, she shot a little six-point buck. While she was walking and Clay was napping, and with the rest of the group otherwise occupied, Jeff and I got out the hand guns for a little target practice. After practicing for a little while, I finally got a bullseye, which I was very proud of. I have shot the guns before, but this was the first time I really felt confident about what I was doing, and it made a difference.

a-hunting we will go

lucky girl

happiness is walking a dirt road with your brother

bullseye

playing with the spent casings

half-birthday buck

horse lights for the half-birthday girl

beautiful west Texas sky

On Wednesday, Weston followed Ruth's hunting example and bagged a six-point of his own. He was so very proud of himself. Needless to say, we should have plenty of meat to eat for a while. During lunch, Jeff and the biggest kids were entertaining themselves by working math problems. Ruth and Weston were enjoying it so much, they didn't want to stop, so after lunch Ruth started giving Weston lessons in division. It was so cute to watch. Later in the day, we decided to see if we could spot the little elk family that has taken up residence on the ranch. Last year, my father-in-law had shot a bull elk, thinking there weren't any cows around. But, it has since been discovered that there is, in fact, a cow, and she now has a calf. They are all usually pretty elusive, but we managed to see all three of them within an hour. They are such beautiful creatures and seem to know instinctively that they are more majestic than the other deer on the ranch. There is a strict no-kill policy on them right now to see if they will continue to breed, so the only shooting we did was with the camera.

hunting with Grandpa

Weston's buck

division lessons

division

mama elk

big daddy

The big event for Thursday was a trip into Marathon. We shopped in both of the stores in town, before having drinks at the White Buffalo bar and dinner at the 12 Gage restaurant, both inside the historic Gage Hotel.

Gage Hotel 

Gage decor

unlikely bar patrons

12 Gage

Inside the 12 Gage

Friday was cold and wet, so we spent a bit more time inside. However, the kids still found some time to play outside and even help Grandpa with some backhoe work.

reading with Mimi 

backhoe business

good helpers

On Saturday, the tummy bug caught up with me, so I spent most of the day in bed or curled up on the couch, sleeping and reading. I felt pretty lousy, but I did manage to finish an excellent book, which I highly recommend: Unbroken. It's the amazing, true story of Louis Zamperini, a one-time Olympian and WWII soldier and POW. You must put this book on your to-read list--near the top.

This morning, we gathered up all the traps and buttoned up the hunting cabin. We stopped by Granny Wanda's on our way through town and then pointed our little convoy toward home, stopping twice for lunch (at my boys' request) and once at the deer processing place. Even with the few illnesses and accidents, we had a wonderful time out west.

all hunted out 

visiting Granny Wanda

Watts out west