That’s not nice to say now, is it? Super Sucky Sunday… what does that mean? Well, the deal is this… Friday, my husband and I helped move my parents rock back to their house. It’s a huge boulder that my sister had their names and a fish carved into, with their anniversary year. It was an anniversary present for them about ten years ago. Well, more than a year ago, my parents had to leave their lifelong home, and that rock had to go with them. So my husband borrowed his dad’s skid loader, and he and his brother loaded up that rock and brought it to our house. We set it outside our back door, and it has sat there through the elements for the duration. Almost a month ago, dad got very sick and was in the hospital. When he got out, one of the first things he asked about was that rock. They bought a new home in June, and we planned to return the rock to them on Father’s Day weekend, but my father in law’s skid loader is no longer functioning. And so, I called my brother in law in July, and asked him to swing by sometime and pick up the rock and take it down for them. No response from him. When dad called my sister to see if her husband was going to do it, and she called me to say that she wasn’t sure, I knew we had to get it done, no matter the cost. So, I asked my darling husband to price the rental of a skid loader for the evening, so that we could move the rock. He did, and we planned on renting it. We arranged the time, and called dad to make sure he was up for it. By the day’s end, Chris had asked a friend, who agreed to let us borrow their skid loader, which saved us a lot of money. We moved the rock, enjoyed supper with mom and dad, and I worked on dad’s computer. Only moving the rock wasn’t just moving the rock with the skid loader. We had to finagle it around, and I was the holder. So when Chris got the rock moved to where he wanted it (which he had to shimmy it by hand, so I don’t know how he’s not hurting), I had to hold the rock with my upper body to make sure it didn’t move, until he could pound it down with the bucket. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I was thinking more about my dad, and what I see when I look at him these days. I was thinking about my daughter, and how much she is just like me. I was thinking about my mom, how she is trying so hard to do so much for so many. But I wasn’t thinking about myself. I was thinking about the new scanner dad wanted hooked up. I was thinking about how he wants to do so much, and his body won’t let him. I was thinking about how time seems to be winding down with him. I wasn’t thinking about the impact that rock had on me.
When I got up on Saturday, around 8:30, and started cleaning and visiting with the kids, I wasn’t thinking about that rock. I was thinking about all the laundry that needed to be done, all the bills that needed to be paid. I was thinking about painting the stairs and wrapping LuLu’s Birthday gift, and making sure to pack Riley’s Birthday card in my purse. I wasn’t thinking anything about that rock.
When we went to the birthday party, I wasn’t thinking about the rock then either. I was thinking about the family, and my kids, and how much we’ve all grown in the past year. And when Chris decided that we’d go to Iowa City after the party instead of on Sunday, I was thinking about the things I needed for Line to be able to function a little more easily at school. I thought about snow pants and heavy jackets. And while we were in the city, looking at the things we need for our kids, I thought about trying to get the pain in my head to go away. And I took some Advil and kept on rolling, because that’s what we do.
When I woke up this morning, I felt like I had been hit by a semi, and I didn’t want to move. I wanted to lay there until the pain went away. But after another three hours, I realized that today was going to be a sucky day. I got up, made the changes I needed to make on our brochure for our banquet coming up, and I told Chris I was ready to go to town to drop it off and get a few supplies for the upcoming week. I wasn’t thinking about that rock. I took some Advil and kept on rolling. When I got the cart with the freaky wheel in the store, I kept pushing, even though it was killing my arm. And when Line was riding on the cart, making it twice as hard to get around the store, and I asked her to get off because it was so painful, I didn’t think about that rock. I just didn’t even remember the damage I was doing to myself, until, so frustrated because of the pain, so disappointed that I needed rest, I lay in bed, thinking about that rock.
I’m still young, I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I should be able to do whatever I want to do, and my body should not betray me. But that is not the case. I am made differently than most people, and I require more rest and time to recover than others. When I put myself under stress and pressure and I don’t respond the way I want, or think I should, I get down, even depressed. And this weekend has just been one example of my crazy zebra life. So tonight, I’m bedding down early, and I hope that tomorrow, my body feels a little bit better!
Momma Rich's 