Three days ago, I thought I was within a week and a half of being Done with my entire 200 hr. yoga program. Done, done, DONE. I made plans and arranged babysitters and had it all worked out to hit classes at my studio and then in Omaha next weekend that would allow me to turn in all my stuff and apply for my official certificate. Then, two days ago, I completely effed up my back. As in, it has not been this bad in three years, except it is a whole new kind of problem/effedupness, and the way it all went down was so very, very dumb (not a word I use often, but there you have it) that I’ve felt fairly defeated about the whole thing.
Ben is back to meetings this week (and back to teaching next week, as am I!), so I am back in full-time Mama mode. Granted, he’s been able to come home for lunch, so it’s not like I’m here all day every day by myself, but still. After being away for the entire month of July, it’s been an interesting adjustment for me this week. I got so used to being busy, busy, busy in Omaha that I sort of forgot what it is like to be busy, busy, busy at home all day w/ the Littles. It’s a totally different thing. Life as a SAHM these last five years has definitely taught me that the old saying, “The days are long but the years are short” is beyond true. I can have mornings (as I did this week) where I look at the clock and think, “It’s only 8:37(a.m.!)? I’ve been up for how long? And have how long to go until lunch and naptime?! And bedtime is how far away?!” At the same time, I can look at the calendar and think, Holy mother of fastness, Batman! It’s the middle of August and I still have days when I think it is 2013. This duality of perception is just my reality during this season of life and coming back to that realization this week was a bit of a “Mmmkaaaaay” adjustment.
And apparently, when you are integrating after a month away from your norm, you sometimes lose you mind. As in, you can just flat out let it fly out the door, or in my case, over the fence, which is what happened Thursday morning. The children and I were outside playing with HD’s new Stomp Rocket (omg, he loves that bday present so much, B family!) which is basically this little air powered thing you literally stomp on to send foam rockets shooting up in whichever direction you aim the base. My primary focus when we play with it is to make sure no child gets bopped, but of course I’m looking out for other obstacles such as trees and roofs, however, for the record, two of the four totally ended up on our sunporch roof, so clearly my aim is not so great. And since we were already down 50%, I felt bad when another went shooting over the neighbor’s fence into her backyard and decided I could totally pull a Ben and lift a kid over the fence to retrieve it and then lift said child back into our yard.
Now you see the problem with this right? I did too, but my ego totally won out because I was all, Oh, I can do this. I was so careful with my back in Omaha and I survived that! I’m just as strong and tough as Ben. I’ll just lift Raegan; it won’t be a big deal. and then I did it, even though I am normally so, so careful and protective of my back (because I have to be). But guess what? I may be strong and tough like my hubs, but I am not 6’1″ of nothing but wiry muscle, so lowering a child into a neighbor’s yard (that is literally a good 8-12″ lower than our yard, somehow) and then hoisting her back up? Not so bright.
Except I didn’t realize anything was wrong until later, which is perhaps why I made Dumb Decision No.2 a little while later during our backyard extravaganza. We had moved from Stomp Rocket to Golf and magically, both HD and RL got their little plastic golf balls stuck in the garden which is completely surrounded by – you guessed it – another fence. This one is much shorter which must be why I decided it would be OK to lift both of them over it this time, but seriously?! WHAT was I thinking?! Harrison does nothing to help you lift him, so I basically had to deadlift his 46 lbs. over the fence (and back) and my beloved zinnias that line the whole garden and I am not a weights person, so my body was totally not prepared for that.
But again, I still didn’t realize anything was wrong. It was until a little while later, after we’d had lunch, that I went into the back room to discover and clean up the mess the Bigs had made with a box of my nursing pads (thanks, children) that I lowered to my knees on the floor and immediately knew something was wrong with my back. Wrong, wrong. So wrong that I was nauseous from the pain and almost burst into tears while on the phone scheduling to go see my chiropractor in GI. So wrong that I had a hard time every time I transitioned from sitting to standing or vice versa. So wrong that I was instantly reverted back to the tense body and mind that plagued me when HD was a baby and I had so many back problems. Just so wrong.
Since Thursday’s trip to the chiro, I’ve had kinesio tape on my back and have been doing lots of ice, too. I also went back to the chiro yesterday and will probably be back on Monday. It’s been years since I’ve had to go in this frequently, but I keep telling myself that I’ve been here before, so I can get back to better again, too. I have no idea how long it will take or what it will mean postponing, but I have to have faith that it will be OK. Already it’s much better after yesterday’s second appointment; I’m not wincing or cringing every single time I sit or stand, so that’s awesome. I’m still not moving fast or wanting to pick up Lincoln or able to go to yoga, but that stuff will come. Thank goodness it is the weekend so I can take it slow and have B around to do all the lifting. Will I make it to my yoga marathon next weekend as hoped? No idea, but I’ve got to make peace with whatever comes and clearly I need to be in less of such a hellfire hurry to get things done. That’s hard to accept, but I’d much rather come to terms with it instead of just pushing through and doing permanent damage. Plus, if the universe is going to throw this big of a caution flag in my face, it’s probably in my best interest to listen.