Well, things just keep on movin' on. Knee is good for now. This most recent flare up is under control, and considering I taught five classes within two days, it's certainly working fine. Loose bone is currently staying out of the way. It's about the size of a dime doc says. I'm glad for it, but it just strikes me as crazy that even something that large could stay out of the way of all those moving muscles and joints! We're going to plan to have the surgery in early Nov. Not that there's an ideal time for anything that will force me to be on crutches, no weight-bearing at all, for six weeks, but at least there will be the holiday season, and some built in family time when I can have some extra hands around for at least a few days. Plus, December is typically a slow month at work for Jason. So, maybe, he can take some time off to be home. Six weeks will span early Nov. through mid-Dec. and then, I'll have two weeks at the end of the month to begin building up some strength. Hopefully, I will be able to return to teaching at the start of the year; just in time to teach class when the new wave of "new year's resolutions" fitness participants will be joining classes. That, or, I will have turned to such jelly in the six weeks recovery, that you'll be able to plop me on top of toasted bread and eat me for breakfast. :)
But, anyhow, totally changing the topic. Few people know this little fact (and now just a few more will know :), but for the past 18 months, I could not watch, or even listen to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse without my stomach positively turning over on itself. But this morning, for the first time, I noticed that the show was on, and I did not feel the need to throw up. God has some kind of sense of humor, as it is by far Connor's favorite tv show (You'll understand the irony soon...)
Back when I was pregnant with Connor, about two years ago now (gosh, it's been that long?!?), my awful battle with devilish anxiety and debilitating depression hit full force. And while I wish I could erase every moment from a period of about four months, I have this super clear memory from a specific event that happened most mornings. If I made it out of bed during morning hours, my family would be moseying around the kitchen and the kids would be enthralled with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the den tv.
I can remember one morning, specifically. Jack and Lucy were in their boosters, eating their cereal, and Jason was as the table as well. (I don't remember what he was eating :) He invited me to sit down and join them. And I actually did - zombie-like I'm sure, because no matter what night it had just been, I wouldn't have achieved more than two or three hours sleep. Mickey Mouse was, of course, playing in the background. As we sat there silent (well, I doubt Jack and Lucy were silent :) Jason lovingly and gently tried to point out to me that "this" / these day-to-day experiences with kids/ just eating breakfast and watching Disney Channel really wasn't all that scary.
I remember that specific morning so vividly. Just sitting at that table filled me with such dread, it felt like my feet were bricks as I shuffled back to my room, eager to escape, what in reality was such an ideal scenario. Why was that so scary? I don't know that I could even form the words to explain why my family scared me, why being a mom felt impossible, and why facing doing it all again with baby #3 was my current worst fear being realized. But, I can tell you that I've never been more afraid of anything. And I can tell you that it was completely irrational. But that didn't matter. Not. One. Bit.
And only because of God's grace and the selfless support of my family and friends did I - we - make it through. For a long, long time after - well, literally until today, I would feel sick every time Mickey Mouse Clubhouse was on. But, now, here I am, at the other end, finally able to listen to Mickey Mouse's squeaky voice and, instead of getting sick, simply smile, squeeze Connor in a tight hug, and fully appreciate just how good I have it!