Craziness

Yesterday was crazy. But it was crazy in a good way.

The boy was kicking letter butt. Normally, Mondays are a little slower on the homeschooling front because over the weekend we don't push it. We might do some simple science or math as we strongly believe in incorporating learning into everyday situations but it's not scheduled or planned...spontaneous learning, if you will. I'm really proud of him and all the work he's done without complaint since we started. 

The girl, on the other hand, has decided she now wants to stand up, unassisted. The only problem is that she can't stand up unassisted. She gets so frustrated when you try to hold her hands and help her. Instead, she just sits there crouched down like a sumo wrestler about to pounce. She tries to stand and falls. Repeatedly. Speaking of falling, last Saturday she fell. Hard. So hard on her head in fact that she started throwing up. I've never been so sick to my stomach with worry. Her eyes were equally dilated and reactive. She never blacked out. She just threw up a couple times but it was more than enough to take her into the ER. Once there, they looked her over and cleared her. Told us to closely watch her for 24 hours and she should be fine. We did and she seems to have recovered fully. I have no doubt that she will be the reason I have a heart attack and go grey sometime in the next five years but I wouldn't change her for anything. I love her little independent, stubborn as a mule spirit.

Back to yesterday though. 

I had a much anticipated appointment with my doctor. It was the big yay or nay on training for Disney's half marathon in January. After an hour in the waiting room (something I'm far too used to...cardiologists and high risk OBs are more often than not called away so waiting rooms and I are old friends), I was seen. I used the wait time to read a book...Mousejunkies. I got it for Christmas but hadn't had a chance to read it until now. It may be the funniest Disney-addict-style book I've ever read. The subtitle is "all you need to know for a perfect vacation" and it's marketed as a tip/planning book but personally I think it's just a funny book for those of us who are already Mousejunkies. There's some decent tips but you can get more information from websites like AllEars.Net or books like the The Unofficial Guide To Walt Disney World.

And then the moment of truth came. 

My doctor checked me over. Discussed my condition and what was and wasn't safe. He gave me a heart rate to stay under, encouraged me to use a heart monitor (which I had already bought in the hopes I would be cleared) and gave me a beta blocker prescription with strict instructions that if I should go into tachicardia while running, crush it with my teeth and swallow it so that it will be absorbed as quickly as possible. And then he said the magical words..."GO FOR IT!"

To say I'm excited would be a massive understatement. I'm euphoric. I'm not a runner and I'm not excited to run. I'm excited to finish. I'm excited to finish a half marathon at Disney World and I will. Next January. 

I Want To Do The Impossible

This may be a case of putting the cart before the horse but I'm excited. I've decided to start training for Disney's Half Marathon in January. I'm pretty sure it's just a pre-mid-life crisis thing and I have to get cleared by my cardiologist but like I said, I'm excited.


For the last five years, I've either been pregnant, nursing, trying to get pregnant or recovering from a miscarriage. Not to mention the year and a half of the last two that I've been parenting solo. It's been exhausting and this is an opportunity for me to do something, to work for something that is just for me. I'll be 30 in March and although I don't think that's old by any means (I'll never be that girl who is 29 for the 2nd or 3rd or 4th time), it's still a milestone. I feel old in so many ways. We've been through multiple miscarriages, a combat deployment and I've seen more doctors than I care to remember. 


Don't get me wrong, I know I have a heart condition and it's not something I play around with. I'm just tired of it and pregnancy and the Army and doctors and everything else having control of my body and not me.

So, I've made an appointment with my doctor and I'm hoping/praying/crossing my fingers and am willing to beg him to help me come up with a safe training plan that will get me ready for the half marathon. I know my limits and I know my triggers. I'm not going to put myself in danger, I just want to do something that seems impossible because if I don't do something now, I'm afraid I never will.

"It's kind of fun to do the impossible" -Walt Disney

Nightmares

Sunday night I had a nightmare. It wasn't a big deal really. Not even that terrifying necessarily. The thing is I have a huge fear of snakes. I've always hated them...I blame Eve. Seriously though, it didn't get better when I almost got bit by a rattlesnake while I was working and living at a backpacking ranch in New Mexico the summer after high school. I was only really saved because a friend of mine managed to push me out of the way. Anyway, there was a picture floating around facebook of a really big snake and since I'm so much of a visual person, it stuck with me and that night my dreams were filled with the giant snake.


I tossed and turned all night but I woke up and tried to brush it off. Monday night's krav maga class (a self-defense/fitness class that I recommend highly if you ever get the chance) was the perfect outlet for the stress. Only this week's class we did a drill that was difficult. There was the physically strenuous part that happens every week (my legs are still mush) but then there was a mental side to it. One of the things we did was choking drills...more accurately we worked on how to get out of a choke hold. I guess I have to back up. A long, long time ago I was on a date. It ended up being a bad situation that could have been a really bad situation. The class brought up feelings and memories that are painful and the only person I wanted to talk to about it has been unable to call or skype with me. So, I'm comforting myself with girl scout cookies and the knowledge that I did it. I fought through the class while maintaining my composure and I learned how to fight out of a choke hold. And two days later I haven't had any nightmares.

Sometimes Violence Is the Answer

I've heard it said that there are no bad days...so long as you're alive and breathing under your own power, it's a good day. I disagree. There are days that just suck. Pain in the butt, Murphy's Law sort of days. Today tried to be one of those days.


I was prepared for today to be long. I had a ton of things to do and I knew I'd be out and about with the kids for at least 12 hours. Being out of the house in and of itself used to not be a big deal but alone with two small kids 12 hours can feel more like 12 days sometimes.


The first stop on our agenda was an eye appointment for me. It was desperately needed as the boy broke my only glasses and I'm down to just two sets of contacts left. Unfortunately the closest optometrist which will accept Tricare is 45 minutes away. So, I loaded the kids up and we were on our way...


Twenty minutes into our journey and we had an accident. Long story short...er...we were on a two lane, middle of nowhere highway/country road. The oncoming traffic (not very busy) had a shoulder but not much of one. On our side was a ditch from which Bambi jumped. 


Stupid Bambi. 


So in about .5 seconds I had to decide Bambi or on-coming traffic...which happened to be a GMC Sierra. Nine out of ten times Bambi would be dead right now and don't get me wrong, I didn't avoid Bambi because PETA wanted me to. I chose the on-coming traffic for three reasons...


1-about a year and a half ago my Aunt hit a deer and it was bad-really bad
2-the on-coming traffic wasn't right there...he had more space and time to react-not to mention a shoulder to go onto 
and
3-if I hit Bambi I was almost certain we'd end up in the ditch, possibly rolling the truck because Bambi was baby Bambi...Bambi was Big Daddy Bambi. 


Yeah, all that and a little prayer that the other guy was paying attention and could swerve in time went through my mind in about .5 seconds. Thankfully, he was paying attention and did swerve but he just couldn't get his truck over far enough and we side-swiped each other. Both our our driver-side mirrors are shot and the glass from his mirror shot back and embedded itself in the glass of his window. I'm pretty amazed my own window didn't shatter with how hard the mirror hit.


We exchanged insurance information but since I'm the one who crossed the center line, it's on me. It's the first time I've been in an accident that was my fault since I was a stupid teenager and the first time anything this scary has happened while I had kids with me. 


I called my insurance agent (great guy btw) and tried repeatedly to get a hold of my husband. I tried texting and calling his Afghanistan phone, I emailed him on gmail, facebook emailed, facebook posted. All of which trying not to be like "OMG call me NOW!" and freak him out but firm enough that if he got it he would know to call right away because I was freaked out and all I wanted was for my husband to call me back. Which he did, three hours later. Granted-three hours in deployment time is less than nothing but it still sucked.


The rest of the day for the most part was unproductive and frustrating. The one highlight was visiting the Science Museum with a fellow deployment wife (different branch and different deployment but same frustrations) and her kids.


The real saving grace for my day was my second ever Krav Maga class. If you've never heard of it, basically it's a self-defense technique (and now fitness class) originated by the Israeli Defense Forces. Basically they teach you to use whatever you can and to hit as hard as you can without stopping until there's no longer a threat. It's fun and tonight I needed it. I hit so hard half of my knuckles are slightly bruised even with using grappling gloves and I'm pretty sure picking up my daughter tomorrow will hurt a lot but it was just what I needed to release the stress from the day.

Quarter-life crisis.

Two years ago, my husband went through what I somewhat affectionately refer to as his quarter-life crisis. He started seriously talking about joining the military. It had been a long standing joke (ha. ha.) because in high school he was in JROTC and in college he just sort of fit with "those" guys. So when a couple of our closest friends took the plunge as it were, I made a joke while driving home one night, "so, are you next?" When he replied "yes" without the sarcastic or jocular tone I expected I nearly had a heart attack...not really an exaggeration since I do have a heart condition. I knew he'd been considering it for a while and we'd had a few serious discussions but it was always one of those, maybe one day things that never really happen except that this time it did. Since we had JUST bought our first house and had an infant son, I was not totally thrilled. It took months of negotiations and research before Joshua finally swore in and for the most part, I think it's been a good thing for us.

Well, now it's my turn.

No. I'm not joining the military...even if I wanted to, which I don't (waking up before the sun and working out is NOT my idea of fun), they would never take me and all my unique health issues.

I'm just feeling really restless. I want to do an ironman triathlon, travel to exotic places and buy a convertible-I had one in college and desperately miss the feeling of driving down the highway with the top down on a warm summer day, ponytail waving in the wind, radio blasting.

The problem is that I can't do a triathlon...I can't swim (I can tread) and when I mentioned running a marathon to my cardiologist at my last visit, he laughed. Not an encouraging sign. As for traveling to exotic places and buying a convertible, it's really not in the cards any time soon. I'm pregnant...I'm not even allowed to drive 4 hours to Dallas. And Joshua's deployed so if I got a convertible, I'd also have to get a second set of car seats and it just kind of defeats the image of freedom in a convertible if you have two kids squeezed into the backseat.

So, what's my solution? A combination of deferment and projection. First, I'm reminding myself that I will not be pregnant forever and travel and convertibles will come again. To be honest, as much as this restlessness has me frustrated from time to time, I wouldn't change my life for anything. If I had waited to have children, it may never have happened for us...we didn't discover many of the health issues I have until we starting "trying." As for the triathlon, I informed Joshua last night that I would love for him to start training for one...he's deployed...what else is he going to do with all his time? His response was to tell me that he wasn't saying yes and wasn't saying no, which means he'll do it because I pretty much always get my way. Plus, I kind of think he owes me for agreeing to this whole military life and I think it's time to play that card. I plan to live vicariously through him. The other benefit of him doing the triathlon instead of me is that I get a husband who's ripped...win/win.

Operation:Cute One

Ok, those of you who don't know me in real life will, I hope, be able to take this post with a grain of salt...

You see, I'm the cute one in the relationship, or at least I like to think so. Don't get me wrong, my husband's hott but when I got pregnant with the boy, it was Joshua and not I who kept the pregnancy weight. He blames it on the fact that I was able to nurse and shed the pounds pretty quickly...an excuse I don't let him get away with too often-especially since on two separate occasions, the boy tried to nurse from Joshua and "latched" on...HILARIOUS (from my perspective)! Picture it: they were both sound asleep and Joshua was shirtless when apparently the boy woke for a night nursing and then out of nowhere all I heard was "YOU LITTLE SH**"...coming from a man who rarely if ever curses. But I digress, this is supposed to be about me being the cute one...when Joshua and I finally agreed upon his enlistment into military, he started to work out and most of his preggie weight just disappeared in that annoying way only a man can manage. His arms and shoulders built up first and though you couldn't see them, there was a 6 pack just under the surface. Now, my love's at BCT and he has informed me that the 6 pack is in full view and yes, he has that ever allusive V...you know the one I mean...the one they had when while dating but somewhere between "I do" and returning from the honeymoon, it disappears never to be seen again.

I say all this not just to brag on Joshua (although I am pretty proud) but also because I'm worried...my 6 pack has never really existed...and since the boy changed everything, even flat (at least in my tummy area) has been a challenge so my mission while Joshua's gone is to get back to what I looked like when we were dating, or as close as this post-baby body can...mission codename: Operation:Cute One