Good Day. I Said Good Day!

I'm about to head out for the hospital. I've got bags packed, some new pajamas, and my Mom and Dad. Hubby will be meeting us later when he gets off work. I wanted him to take tomorrow off instead of today, so he could listen to me whine and baby me all day. Today will mostly be surgery and sleeping. 


My brother posted this picture this morning, and it made me LOL. Literally. 

Thanks for the laugh, Bran. 

The "What If" Game

I'm scared. The inevitable is approaching, and my stomach is in knots. I'm having back surgery on Thursday. There. I said it. It must be true. 


It's all been a whirlwind really.  I've been dealing with back pain from a ruptured disc for over a year now. Debilitating, not-sure-I-was-going-to-be-able-to-walk-down-the-aisle type of pain.  I've had three epidurals. One lasted a good six months, the other two about two weeks.  The last straw has been the recent numbness in my legs. Searing, painful numbness that makes it really hard to sleep. So, finally, I've been given the surgery route, and I'm scared. 


Silly, really.  I'm talking the worst case scenarios that are perpetuated by the fact that it's 3:00 am, and I'm still lying awake thinking up even worse scenarios.  What if I wake up during surgery? What if I never wake after surgery? What if the pain is so bad but I'm too doped up to be able to tell anyone?  What if they hit a nerve and I never walk again?  


My students try to play the "What If" game with me about ten times a day. I never give in. So why am I giving in now? 

Sidenote: It goes without saying that my 30-Day Challenge is on hold right now. Jillian Michaels, when I can walk again, I'm coming for you!

Stories

I love to read. I can devour books in hours, and I feel lost when they are over. 


I have affairs with new books. Books that  are crisp and untouched and unloved. I hold them and read them and love them until their pages are worn; folded over and wrinkled and read and reread. 


I adore children's books.  The simplicity, the color, the way there is a children's book for every subject and holiday and special moment. I love to read them aloud to my students, and I wait for their eyes to light up and the laugh to come. In fact, it steals a special place in my heart when I catch someone laughing to themselves as they read because I know that feeling, too. 


I cherish old books.  Books with a history. Books that someone else has already loved and marked and folded. I try to imagine what it must have been like for them the first moment they picked up the book and pressed down the spine with their hand. 

This book smells like my granny. I can remember scanning through her shelf of books and finding this one day. I was eleven, maybe twelve.  It was a scandalous book, and I was huddled up on her couch and giggling at the words that I wasn't allowed to say. I don't remember ever finishing the book, but the story it holds for me is priceless. 

Perfect

I need purpose.  So, I read other people's blogs and look for some similarity between my life and theirs. I don't like to read perfect blogs. People who have spotless houses and perfect bodies and perfect lives. I love me some real people. People who fight with their husbands, have children who aren't perfect, spend some days in pajamas, and let the laundry basket overflow. Those are my kind of people.

I am certainly not perfect. I am, however, semi-perfect. Like semi-sweet chocolate; a little bitter and a little sweet and the perfect combination.


I don't always wear make-up. And sometimes my husband finds me in the same clothes that he left me in that morning.

I love my husband who loves me despite everything. He even gets up early on Saturdays and lets me stay in bed while he fixes me amazing food that doesn't fit in with my diet.

I love my friends fiercely. I would do anything for them. For that matter, I love their children more.

I love my mama. Who lets me come over when my husband is playing golf and I can't stand to spend another day watching TLC and attempting Pinterest crafts alone. So, we craft them together.

No, my life is not perfect. But it's perfectly alright.

Muscle Vs. Fat

I was happy to know that nastiness above is now off my body! Down five pounds this morning. Woot! As I continue my 30 Day Takeover, I will continue to remind my self of this picture and the one below. 

Muscle weighs more than fat. Only now it's legit for me to say that because I'm actually gaining muscle. The term, "I'm just big boned," is fading from my vocabulary. What the hell does that mean anyway?