I am not a lot

Here is a list of what I am NOT:

Im not a morning person.
Im not able to function without the sweet nectar of coffee.
Im not organized.
Im not into rabbit food or any of these fucking new age diets crap.
Im not thin.
Im not patient.
Im not a runner.
Im not typically safe for the general public's sensitivities.
Im not typical. Period.

Im also not thrilled about waking up and having to go to PT on the weekend before my 3rd mug of joe. Im fairly certain my therapist, Steve, came to this understanding when I stood infront of him receiving instructions. I was slightly hunched, a few degrees to the right, arms a la neanderthal, and eyes that were only open from the sheer force of raised eyebrows. In my workout get-up, I could of passed as an entrant in the local Zombie Run. As a zombie.

Jog in intervals on the treadmill he says.
"gnehhh..." I answer

He has the treadmill set up facing a window and I was so dazed by the sunlight I often forgot to change the speeds for the intervals.

Steve: Hows it going?
Me: Yes.
.....
Steve: ...Does it feel ok?...
Me: Oh. Yea. Knee? Dunno...stiff. Hip..uff...
Steve:...ok. Well...we will talk when youre done...

Pre-Surgery physical restrictions, Surgery, Post surgery 6-month no-weight bearing restrictions and pain....All those suckers added weight and my hips and ass are gluttons. They rake up any extra calories around and store it away. This is evident in my need to pull my shirt down in the back every few strides. Id like to punish the hoarders but we all know im an amazing cook and I just cant buy into the Quinoa craze.

Steve is the kind of physical therapist that is used to athletes. Hes used to working with them and as far as I know, is one himself.
I....am not.
Yet and still I am set up to run plyometric drills, hoping from square to square on the ground on the tips of my toes and quick-stepping through the taped off 'ladder' on the ground. I remind myself to buy a TIGHTER workout bra. Im squatting on the flat side of a Bosu Ball which is the #1 most awkward squat I have YET to achieve.

Steve takes measurements. Lift your leg. Rotate left. Rotate right. Dont let me push your leg up...now down. Now left. Now right. Strength, Range of motion, and flexibility measurements are jotted down as part of my re-evaluation today.

Steve: I rarely give out 5s. You have one 5 for quad strength. Most patients I receive, have not had hip or bone surgery. They come and go at a 3- or 3+ range. You have 4s. Congrats. You are technically at normal hip functionality.
Dont get too giddy. Watch that hip rotator. Its bad. And that ankle. Your 5k is no longer an if, but a when.

I am not entirely fixed.
But.
I am not fully broken.

Growing up in Miami, 60 degrees was the dead of winter. A freeze came at 55 degrees. God forbid 50 ever showed its face in the Sunshine State. We will go to work and school hours before a Category 4 Hurrican graces our shores, loading up on booze and food for the traditional Hurrican Parties, but its a state of emergency if we can see our breath when we exhale. No one goes to school. No one goes to work. We could DIE out there!

I think it was 60 degrees most of this afternoon so naturally we went to the park.

Both girls brought their bikes, walked them to a bench, and left them there while they used the play ground.

Aeva: Momma!! Come get me!

Aeva is running fast towards a green rubberized hill on the playground. Its steep and you need momentum to run up its side. Shes halfway there.

I take off.

I look like that Zombie I mentioned, or maybe like Igor but screw that Im gonna win this race!
I make it to the top, we butt-scoot all the way down and Iris turns to me with two hands up.

"You did it mom.... High five!"

Im not fast or smooth.
Im not still sitting on the bench watching from a distance either.

Theres a trail in the park that weaves through a forested area and into a garden with more trails, a lake, and an atrium. Iris stays behind in the park with our friend Chris, and Aeva asks me to take her on the nature trail for an 'adventure'.

Aeva: Momma, I need to exercise my legs. Can I run? Will you run with me?

She takes off. Steve said no running outside because there was ice on the ground.
But its 60 degrees and I dont see ice on the trail.

We run for a few minutes, winding through the forest and dashing around other people on the trail. My canter is hobbled. My steps are shorter on the left and quick to shift to my right. Aeva picks the road when we come to fork and she tells us when to pause before resuming. We cover about 2 miles. Maybe more. Aeva names the geese we see. The two that are snapping at each other and honking angrily she names after herself and her sister. Pretty accurate if you ask me.

Aeva: I like running with you.
Me: I like running with you too.

Im not a runner.
Im not giving up yet.

Theres nothing funny here today

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, at odd hours, and I cannot sleep any longer. Other times I have been awake the whole time but it seems that I clocked out somewhere with my eyes wide open and when I come to, its 3:30 in the morning.
Im burning through books, through social medias, I've baked up as much as I can muster. I've sewn myself a new purse in one day. There isn't a new job post on any of the websites I visit that I havent looked through.
Theres times that when I wake up, I think im somewhere else. Im facing a wide window on a higher floor. Theres a bathroom off to my left and its lit. I burrow under the covers happily... but what ever I expected next doesn't arrive. My real window is to my back. In my own room, there is no bathroom. Nothing to expect.
Other times I wake up thinking its a different time. Its still 2011 and things are different. Theres a future hope.

At the worst of these awakenings its terror.

I jolt awake. The panic comes in waves. In the dark without my glasses, I cant see. It only took one night like this for me to start leaving the closet light on. I rather be irritated by the light than wake in a dark room where I cant access my own safety. My own sanity.

Most nights I dont lay down until well after 3 am. I sit on my bed and will time away. I walk around my house. Its so quiet that washing my hands feels uncomfortably loud to my ears. I feel like a ghost. Filling up my cup, taking extra care to stir in my tea packet. Running my hands down the counters. I fix the curtains so the neighbors wont notice the void through the patio doors. Theres three couches in my tiny little living room. I originally bought them to accomodate my family and the friends I hoped to fill the days with. I used to have a spot on the couch. It reminds me of my favorite character from "Big Bang Theory", Sheldon Cooper. Its where I always sat.  Theres so much space lately that I come to sit in each spot, if only for a few minutes. Imagining...

Theres a dozen or more notifications on my phone. I've stopped answering them. I've erased half the apps on there too. It feels useless except for the camera. Pictures to remind me of things Im not sure I can revisit easily. Pictures of memories I try to collect in the up coming weeks.

Everyones asleep. I've always had an irrational fear of my kids being harmed in their sleep. Often I would check to make sure they were still in their beds...and breathing. Now I pace their rooms. They look so different in sleep. I need to remember how tiny they really are. How gentle they were meant to be. Both girls have eyelids the color of the underside of petals...white and slightly pinkish purple... long eye lashes that brush their cheeks. And my pout. Its disarming...those two.

The night is too quiet. Pandora only plays for so long. I try not to pirate music and so I have a pretty empty itunes library. Kinda sucks to be good sometimes. The night is torture, waiting for the world to wake. It can distract me when its buzzing. But at night theres no avoiding truths. Theres no avoiding hollow voids. Theres plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to feel it all closing in.

I sleep better when the sun is shining in through my window and I know the day progresses. Life clamors outside and the world continues. Sleeping to that noise of existence is possible. Opening my eyes I know where I am. I know time hasn't stopped. The dark doesn't play tricks on me, wipping up images I wish I didn't hold so vividly.

I meant to write a different post today.

As you can tell I failed. Maybe another day. Or rather another night. The exhilaration of today has seeped out of me. Even now Im trying to extend this. If I finish it now, theres nothing left but trying to sleep. I have roughly 3 hours before the girls are awake. Its painful to rouse up energy to make it through the day with two small children and no sleep. Somehow, I rather that pain over the pain of sleeping like this.

Fears

Generally I dread taking my kids out to McDonalds. I keep thinking about that experiment that one teacher started and then everyone followed suit with where they keep a happy meal out on their counter for years. YEARS. And the damn thing still looks like when it was first purchased. Ok maybe slightly withered, but still pretty much the same.

I keep imagining its some silicone or plastic based toy from my daughters' play kitchen and my wonderful little children eat it and it travels down their esophagus and into delicate little girl tummies and then sits there. I imagine that if I were to peek in there years later, all the acid would have failed to change the chicken nuggets and fries much. Im sure thats not how it goes. The lack of nutrition is probably more the focus here but still. Its what my mind conjures.

I was invited to hang out with a group of moms at the local Mcdonalds today to give the kids (and mommas) a chance to socialize during lunch. Lately I avoid these things too. I wasn't going to go but then Aeva ran out of her room sporting her Snow White costume, a pair of oversized heels, massive amounts of jewelry and started to 'mop' the floors.

I think that was her version of my daily routine now a days. Get dressed up...to clean the house.
Not exactly what I want my 2 year old thinking life is all about. So I coerced her in a more play friendly outfit (to which she added a tutu and halloween jewelry), and trekked out to McDonalds.
How do you know that you aren't a regular patron of McD?

You get lost for 30 minutes getting there.

Best part? I got off at the exit that sits directly next to it. And somehow missed it. Aeva passed out in the back with a crown that slid down around her eyes.
But I did it. I did the mommy thing. I paid for two meals if only because mine included coffee (coffee maker failed to brew me a cup this morning, again), and sliced apples and apple juice for Lil Bit.

Boy did she have fun. The play place wasn't too full and Aeva got into all the tunnels, waving enthusiastically from some of the little windows way up high, sliding down the slide and running back to me for juice and apple bites.
Thats when I noticed it.
NO. SOCKS.
I asked Lil Bit where her socks were and she answered with a pull and an "over here". I followed her to the tunnel entrance and watched Aeva disappear with in, yapping about having left her socks somewhere in the maze. As she is climbing I see the bottom of her feet are getting black from...oh Gods...the tunnels..I mean they're tiny for regular sized humans like me. But they're anti microbial right? Surely they get cleaned now and then...Whats that black stuff stuck between the bolted tunnel window and the pastic sides...It must be DEAD SKIN...millions and millions of discarded dead skin cells just sitting there, and layered all over the tunnels...touching my KID!
Just as my mind is ramping up to how not just skin cells but snot and diaper leakage must surely be encrusted all over the handles and walls and steps of the entire Plague Play Place, Aeva appears with a pair of socks.
Its time to go. Neither one of us really ate and my mind is going to make me the germaphobe Im not entirely. It takes a good deal of Purrel to ease the germ fear. At least we were somewhat normal for a good 30 minutes I think. I've done my Mommy duty. I did the right thing. I think.
At any rate I felt accomplished.

That ended shortly after I picked up Iris.

I should know better with this child. She keeps so much inside, and can at the most surprising moments, be so subtle in how she discusses deep thoughts.
Riding home she tells me how much she loves this base compared to the last one we were stationed at. She's only sorry that there isn't a school INSIDE the base, like last time.
Being in a school on base ensures that all the children that attend are also military children, and the teachers and staff are much more well versed in what military children endure than those in a school off base. Its a comfort not only to her but for me.

Iris: Do you think that there will be a school inside the base we are going to next?

She's subtle. But I catch where she's going.

Me: There may be. But we wont be living on base so you wouldn't be able to attend it anyhow.

Iris: Oh. We will be living off base. Will Daddy be living on base?

I don't want to address this right now. Im driving up to the gate guard and I am holding my soon to be gone dependent ID and my kid is rounding the corner of the worst topic now a days. The timing is not for me to decide in this however, its hers.

Me: I dont know. For a while he will be with us. Eventually we won't live in the same house.

She's very silent as we take the short drive to the housing area, passing all of her favorite stationary display airplanes.

Iris: I just wish you and daddy wouldn't divorce.

She pauses and I go to give her the standard 'I know hunny' when in a voice so quiet:

Iris: It was my biggest fear...

And this was mine. I reach over to hold her hand and its limp. Iris is never unresponsive to touch. I squeeze her hand and nothing. Her little fingers just lay open on her lap, as though asking for a different answer than what I can give. I try stroking her hand but my heart is falling quick. She's angry but she's more heart broken than upset. I feel like she's slipping away from me. Im typically so good with words but what do you say to the embodiment of your love and soul? I can't think of anything to mend this and I know it's already too late. In the back of my mind I'm thinking: She's going to hate me.

Everything I say to her next are like drops of water in a void. They get sucked away. Nothing I say about remaining friends with her daddy, or how its not her fault, and how we both love her more than anything helps. Im talking but im hearing it resounding in my head. Im Charlie Brown's teacher. No amount of Purell is going to kill the germ of pain inside of her chest. Its spreading as I see her start to cry. I can't take her home and know that none of the bad can touch her there.

I can;t reach this little one beside me. This little one who was once inside me and knew my heartbeat. My heart grows so heavy I swear it will stop.
Im doing the Mommy duty, but this time...its not the right thing. There's no accomplishments here.