This week, I have become hyper aware of the limitations of the body. It all started when Wren decided to attempt a somersault off of the picnic tables onto the concrete. Blood gushing everywhere, other adults had the look of utter shock and panic, while I had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. See, this is our life, folks. Dramatic and utterly ridiculous, each day has presented us with something new. If this had been the first time, or even the fourth that my daughter had buster her lip, I might be more concerned. My daughter is truly her father's though, and with that comes defiance of gravity. My husband jokes that he had so many injuries as a child, that a doctor once called Child Protective Services. Wren has had more falls than I can remember; our joyous right of passage - i.e. first trip to the dentist was circumvented by two teeth she had dislocated not long after she learned to walk. Mind you, that fall took place in the middle of a church auditorium that we were visiting for the first time.
Sitting at the park, blood dripping down her face, I was not too concerned. I cleaned her up with some amazing help from friends, and let her go out and play again. I was really not too worried until someone mentioned the word "concussion." For the rest of the night, I had these panic attack inducing daymares of something happening to my precious little girl. Now, of course she turned out fine, otherwise this would probably be a quite different story. It just goes to show how easy it is as parents to go from one extreme to the other.
The next morning was a new day, and the fear had melted away with the night. With new enthusiasm, I had it all planned out. I would volunteer at a local nursery - my good deed for the week, and then we would spend some time with some old friends. Except for the common bout of disobedience, Wren seemed fine, and I totally thought she could handle three and a half hours of Sunday School, while I put in my time. I was even so energized that I invited another couple of friends to come by later that afternoon and evening. I was SuperWoman. I could do it all.
Unfortunately, my daughter was not. My first instinct should have been when she was overly excited when the first set of friends came by. She ran around the house in circles, and wanted to call each of them "Cindy," at the top of her lungs. Now, she is totally a goofball, so this did not strike me as that odd. What did strike me though, was her total lack of interest in the slice of pie I had set out for her. This is the child that says she only eats "chocolate everything." I have never seen her turn down something sweet.
My next inkling that something might be wrong was upon the arrival of our sweet friend and her lovely 18 month-old. Now, Wren is extremely independent, and can often maintain that sovereignty even to her detriment in social settings. But - at the end of the day, she is caring and compassionate, and looks out for little ones. These qualities seemed to be lost with our sweet friend. No, my daughter was stubborn and rude, and even hid behind the recliner so she did not have to play.
At this point, I realized she was probably done for the day. I did not realize how done, though, until the child, who refused to cuddle even as an infant, passed out on my lap three hours before her regular bed time. Even still, I figured she must be very ill and I will probably have to take her to the doctor the next day. I went ahead and had our third guest of the day, and we fixed dinner and caught up.
It was not until the next day that I realized that maybe, just maybe I might have pushed us too hard. Did this revelation take place when my daughter seemed to return to normal after 13 hours of sleep? No, my newfound epiphany did not exactly occur until I tried to get out of bed myself, much to the chagrin of the muscles that were holding me upright. Apparently, at some point during the night, my poor thigh muscles had decided to collapse, resulting in excruciating pain whenever I moved them up or down. It is likely that my extreme lack of exercise has finally caused my muscles to atrophy. They were so shocked by the extreme activity of the day before, that they did not quite know how to respond.
Regardless, now I have to work, unable to move to well without waddling. My office is down a flight of stairs, and I have to make 10+ trips upstairs each day to maintain my paperwork. As I hold on to both railings and shimmy up and down, I am reminded of the fragility of the body and inspired to hire a personal trainer.
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