I’m proud of myself. Somehow I managed to get four hours sleep last night which is really saying something.
So this is it. Today is the day I go under the knife and come out with a lot less skin and a little more silicone. I’m terrified. I’m anxious. I’m excited. I’m crazy.
This is going to be so painful.
This is going to be so awesome.
I haven’t been able to write lately. I’ve been so darn busy working with InsideHenderson, a local mag here in the area, and trying to get my life together before this surgery that everything I think of in regards to writing seems shallow and pointless.
Although last week I did have something wonderful happen.
My kids have been insanely sick, shuffling through a six day flu of high fevers and miserable coughing. I have had someone home from school every day for almost three weeks now.
Two weeks ago I taught a lesson in Young Womens on forgiving others. The thing that really stuck out was the importance of remembering that we never know the whole story. Sometimes backstory, or at least being aware of what’s happening in the other person’s life, makes all the difference when it comes to our ability to forgive and understand. Good lesson to teach, great little reminder, nice message.
That night I was downstairs around 11 pm, the last one up and busy writing when I heard noises from upstairs. By the time I got up there June was sobbing and Jason was back in bed and I found that my little girl, who had been seriously sick for two days, had been ill-treated by her sleeping father. She needed water for her sore throat and he’d told her to go down and get it herself before heading back to bed. I checked her temperature and her fever was over 101…shall I introduce you to Mother Bear?
I stomped into our bedroom, flipped on all the lights, yanked the covers off my husband and let him have it. I shook my finger, I threw pillows at his head, I growled and barked and finally left the mostly unresponsive sleeping lump to his bad dreams.
I was furious. Seriously, they’re babies and they’re sick and honestly, is it really that hard to get a sick little girl a drink of water and some Motrin??
Somehow I made myself crawl into the far side of the bed (I might have worked a few shin kicks in while I was getting comfortable). I was fuming. All I could think of was how furious he’d made me, how I was going to let him have it tomorrow, how he’d have to do some serious work to make up for making my poor, sweet sick little baby cry for a drink of water. That thought alone made me want to kick him all night long.
I woke at 2:00 in a fog, needing to use the loo. As I stumbled to the bathroom I could hear one thing and one thing only: You must forgive him. You must forgive him for this. You must forgive him and move past this, forgive him.
Doing my best to ignore the voice, I made it back to bed and instantly slept.
I woke at 5 am and had to go again (I’ve had four children, don’t judge). Once more, the moment I hit my feet the pounding words hit my brain. Forgive him, do not judge him, be kind to him and forgive him. You have to forgive him. Just love him.
It was strong enough that I finally rolled my eyes and mumbled a grudging “OK!” before falling into bed for the last hour of blessed sleep (wish I could have done that last night, I was up by 4:30 and there’s no hope for me now).
The next morning I woke up refreshed and…nice. Seriously nice. Like, oh-look-there’s-my-sweet-wonderful-husband-who-I-love-and-adore-even-though-he-mistreated-my-baby. It was legit, I wasn’t angry in the slightest.
Jason? Totally sick. He was running a fever, his sinuses had started to clog in the night and by the time he left for work he’d started in on the hacking. I realized part of the problem, he was sick last night and I, in my anger, had missed it. Being a man he didn’t self-medicate and instead tossed and turned in misery of his own all nightlong. The whole thing made sense and I was glad I hadn’t held on to my anger.
That afternoon I was snuggling with June and suddenly, I turned and looked at her. “June,” I asked, “Did Daddy say anything to you this morning? About you crying last night?”
“Oh yeah,” she said with her big toothy smile, “He came in really really early and told me he was sorry for yelling at me and not getting me water, you know, just that he loves me and stuff.”
I am so glad the Holy Ghost instructed me before I really stuck my foot in it and made a total donkey out of myself.