Fantasizing

Since I'm not nearly as active now as I'm used to being, I've taken to fantasizing about adventure activities and travel to far-off lands. These are two places on my list of places I've just got to go. (Maybe when the kids are older?)











The Ice Hotel in Sweden (north of the Arctic Circle) -- Travel via dog sled from the airport to the hotel; sleep on a bed of ice covered with reindeer skins; enjoy vodka in the Ice Bar; experience an arctic trail snowmobile safari
















Cave hotel in Cappadocia, Turkey -- Stay in the caves by night, then explore the underground cities within the volcanic landscape by day

I'm sure there will be more to come. These were the places that came to mind this morning.

But for now, maybe I'll plan a ski trip for Christmas break, someplace nearby in the upper midwest or northeast? And keep my fingers crossed that the hip is ready for some fun by then!

Convergence

When I was a teenager and young adult, I inadvertently, or sometimes deliberately, held myself back from experiences. Or I'd have the experiences, but not be fully present in them.

I had an idea of what I was good at, what I was horrible at, who I was, who I could become, who wanted to be around me, what I could achieve, that wasn't fully formed. Frankly, those ideas weren't always accurate. I set aside many talents or interests I had as a child because I thought someone wanted me to do something else, or I thought I wasn't good enough to do the thing I wanted to do. I was just trying to do the "right" thing and be the "right" person -- and, as a result, I wasn't really me. So I didn't really know what was right for me, after all.

In the process of trying to do things a certain way, but finding out that I can't force some experiences and have them work out the way I'd planned, I've learned to operate more on intuition and less on obligation. I'm happier now. And I've realized that many of the things I'd like to achieve in my life are rooted in my skills and interests held, yet forgotten, since childhood. Yet all those missteps were not taken for naught, as they were crucial steps for my becoming who I am today.

In fact, as I look through my Top 10 list from September, at least half of them are derived from childhood dreams that I'd pushed aside for many years.

In allowing my intuition to guide my actions more these days than ever before, I've also become aware of my process for deciding on a meaningful course of action. Before a course of action becomes clear to me, I'm aware of an impending convergence of experiences, thoughts, knowledge, possible outcomes, etc. These factors feel like a cloud that lacks structure but seeks it. I can feel lightning in those clouds; there's electric energy occurring, making connections from one area to the next with bolts of light directly linking one to the next, illuminating some space around it, but only briefly. I'm aware of these connections taking place in my mind as I go about my daily routines.

This impending convergence used to make me feel uneasy. So I'd rely on what I thought I was supposed to do, what others wanted me to do. Not anymore. I have patience and I trust myself now.

From experience, I know that eventually, one day and without warning, the cloud evaporates in an instant and the entire path or decision is laid out clearly in front of me. It's that a-ha moment -- the lightbulb clicking on -- the moment of clarity!

I'm in one such cloud right now. I know the moment of convergence is near. What I don't yet know is how it will work out. But it will.

I have one degree in education... Another in journalism... I like to write... I want to write... The premature birth of my twins has enabled me to gain unique life experiences in raising them... I want to help them... I want to help others... I have an interest in cognition and meta-cognition, particularly among school-age children... Et cetera... Something is happening here. Unlike Robert Frost's road that diverges into two, mine is a crooked, winding, hilly path with multiple divergences. Sometimes I take this path; other times I take that one. But I can tell that they all converge at one point in the distance. I can't get there until I've traveled here first.

But I can feel the convergence is imminent!

True Friends

In the middle of a party last night, my friend presented me with a walker.

Instead of being mortified -- I think that was his real intent -- I was so excited that I began using it immediately. And it has a cupholder! Just a rigged-up huggie. But it did the trick -- I didn't have to fumble with walking and holding my beer at the same time. Ah, simple luxuries.

Even though his initial goal was to get me riled up (a hobby of his), having gone through leg surgery and subsequent months of using crutches and a walker himself, he figured that eventually I'd come around to it. He just didn't expect it would be instantaneously.

(Of course, as glad as I am to have the walker, I won't use it in public. I just can't go there yet. I'm still a bit stubborn.)

But my thanks go out to this true friend, as well as many others: The ones who have made dinners for us; the ones who have carried mail and shopping bags into the house for me; the ones who have offered to do my grocery shopping; the ones who have called and sent e-mails offering support; the one who sent my "angel" because she knew that was exactly what I needed. Thanks also go to my friends who understand that I might be slow to accept help. Though I might be a bit hard-headed, they stick around anyway and offer to do what they can when I change my mind. Most especially, thanks go to my amazing family, as they step up to perform tasks that typically I would handle, help to prepare meals and do laundry, assist with grocery shopping, show much patience with my new slow mode, and help with a variety of mundane tasks around the house. My children and husband are so very wonderful to me. I love them and appreciate them tremendously.

But I really like the walker. Did I mention it has a cool cupholder?

Boo!

From the ever-increasing body of evidence the kids are growing up and need me less...

Tonight, they "ghosted" (or "booed," if you prefer) our neighbors, all by themselves. In the dark. No parents.

Ghosting/booing is the fun trick of filling two goody bags with Halloween goodies, along with a photocopy of a ghost and instructions for the recipients to fill two more goody bags and "ring and run" two other neighbors the next night. The idea is for them to answer the door but to find only the goodies as the ringers remain hidden out of sight.

Last year, as in the previous years, my husband or I went with them. They were too afraid of the dark to go alone. The girls needed help finding a quick hiding spot after ringing the neighbor's doorbell.

This year, we decided to start the chain in our neighborhood. My son accompanied me to the grocery store to buy the candy and inexpensive little trinkets. At home, the kids filled the baskets on their own. When it came time to "ghost" the neighbors, they refused to allow me to come along, though I expected to. "No!" they said. "You're too slow! You'll give us away." Darn crutches.

I suggested that I could wait in the car with the lights turned off so I could keep an eye on them. "No! They'll still see your car!"

I suggested that they could wait a night or two, until their dad came home from his trip. "No! We've got all the stuff tonight. We don't need to wait for him."

Off they went...

I just waited here...

They came home so excited! So proud! So eager to tell their stories of ring-and-run! And the chase that ensued after hitting one friend's house. And how they don't think they were seen, but they're not quite sure.

In the space of a ring-and-run, they grew up.

6 Weeks

The orthopedic surgeon called me today to say I have a stress fracture of the femoral neck (my hip). Since this fracture is on my left side, and I drive using my right leg, I can drive. But no weight bearing of any kind.

"Are you kidding me?" At this point, I was actually laughing over the incongruency of my expectations against his instructions. Originally, I was hoping I had pulled a muscle or torn a ligament or something and that he was going to tell me just to go light on my workouts for a while. Six weeks on crutches was not at all what I'd imagined.

In fact, this diagnosis is the "best case" at this point. The MRI will be read by the hospital today to determine if the fracture is complete; if it is, then we're talking possible surgery.

He said I need get in the car and drive to his office and get my crutches. Now.

So I did what he suggested. I still can't believe I'm now walking around with crutches. That half-marathon coming up in three weeks is entirely out of the question. And the Run Like Hell 5k the week after that. And the Thanksgiving Day 10k. Guess I'll shoot for the Flying Pig in April...

Good thing I have a sense of humor about it all today. (Last Thursday, it would have been a different story. My sense of humor took a personal day and was nowhere to be found.) I asked the nurse about everyday errands, like grocery shopping. She told me I might want to use the motorized cart for a while. Stunned, I just paused. "Are you serious?" I asked. Yes, she was. Well, there's no way a cheek of mine is going to settle into a motorized grocery cart. Not until I'm 90, and maybe not even then.

I decided to try out my maneuverability while running some errands near the doctor's office. Didn't even make it through the front doors of Dick's without someone asking me if she could carry my bag for me. (!) No, thanks...

Then I went next door to Bed Bath & Beyond. I'm happy to say that I singlehandedly supplied comic relief to all of their employees and customers during that little jaunt. Let me describe the scenario:

Yes, I was determined to push a shopping cart -- of course, mine had to be the one with the bum wheel that caused the cart to list to the side -- while learning to use crutches, without accepting help. About every 10 to 20 feet, I was approached by someone offering to help. Very nice, but unnecessary, in my opinion. I'm a perfectly healthy 39-year-old woman! I don't need help! Although they were practically begging me to let them help me...

So I made my purchases and then headed to the car. After refusing all that help, I realized that my car was actually downhill from the store. Just think about it. In fact, go ahead and picture it. I've got a bum left leg and new crutches, and a runaway cart headed downhill forever -- yet unpredictably so, since it also had a bum left wheel and definitely couldn't be counted on to go where I aimed it.

Yet, there I am, hobbling along. Hobbling pretty fast, actually, since I had to get ahead of the cart and then use my behind to stop it. While using the crutches to brace myself against the impact. (Is this what the doctor intended when he told me absolutely no load-bearing activities?) Then repeating. I actually made it pretty far with my cart-moving method.

Finally, an older gentleman called out to me. "Ma'am? Now, I know you don't need help. I can see you're doing just fine on your own. But would you let me push your cart the rest of the way to your car?"

Do I stick with my pride? Or give in? I'd made it so far on my own! Yet I was getting tired of the shenanigans.

I turned and smiled. "Yes! Thank you!" I don't know who was happier.

Ah, yes. Six more weeks.

Rebuilding a Bridge

In a lapse of better judgment, I set fire to a bridge.

Ordinarily, I do use better judgment. I'm usually pretty diplomatic, reluctant to offend. But I do have my hot spots.


About a year ago, someone in a position of power found one such spot. The issue involved the well being of my daughter, as well as the workings of a bureaucratic organization, and neither one of us wanted to budge from our positions.

By the time everything was said and done (and plenty was said, and then it was definitely done), I'd lit the fire at the base of the bridge. Fortunately, I didn't blast it with enough ammunition to blow up the thing in a massive, irreparable explosion. But a small, smoldering fire can do enough damage.

A year later, it's become obvious that I need that bridge. It might be my last resort to get to the other side, where I want to be.

So I'm now trying to put out the fire before it's way too late. I'll play nice this time, but I still won't lose sight of why I need to cross that bridge. Certain things have to be in place. I know what's important, and I still need to insist on the important things, but this time I'll do it in a more cooperative manner.

And in the future, I'll think a little more about the consequences of burning a bridge I may later need to cross.

Flirt

Some girls are born knowing how to flirt.

I've got two of them living right in my own house.

(I wasn't so fortunate. I had to acquire the rudiments of that skill. Slowly and with much embarrassment, I might add.)

But my twins have flirting down pat, at the ripe age of 9. Thanks to their older brother, there are boys-a-plenty around our house. And the girls never miss an opportunity to bat their eyelashes (the twin who is generally very shy but also well aware of her good looks prefers this approach) or engage in rapid-fire banter (the other twin who rarely backs down from a verbal fight, in fact, rather seems to enjoy starting one) with their brother's friends.

Recently, during a car ride that included all my kids plus a friend of my son's, the kids were bantering back and forth, girls vs boys, until my daughter abruptly switched gears with, "Johnny*, do you love me?" All sweet and sugary. She stopped him in his tracks! The boys were stunned silent, but my satisfied daughter sat smugly with a huge grin on her face: mission accomplished. Her twin looked over in silent admiration at this little feat.

Today, a group of boys, led by my son, were "spying" on my girls and their friend. Till the girls turned the tables on them. In the end, the girls were chasing the boys, laughing and egging them on.

Yes, my little blondies are naturals at flirting. They may use different techniques, but both are so very effective. And they know it.

Should be real fun when they're 15. I'd better get my sleep now, because I doubt I'll get any rest when they're old enough to date.

(* Names have been changed to protect the innocent!)