Lawn mower and clothes = tears!

The past few days have not been my best. My leg has been hurting, I've been feeling a lot of pressure to get my house clean and I'm nervous about the filming on Saturday. Factor in some hormonal imbalances, and I've been fighting back tears all week!

I feel like there just isn't enough time to get everything done. When I do have the time, my stupid leg just doesn't cooperate. Yesterday I should have been cleaning my kitchen. Instead I spent much of the day sitting on the front porch with Robby, content watching him hunt for meteorites and blow bubbles. My leg simply hurt too much to clean, regardless of how much my kitchen was in need.

Yesterday evening I went shopping with my friend Maria. I was sent a photograph of an outfit "concept" for the video. I was initially thrilled to receive the photo- typically I am left with vague instructions and struggle trying to decipher what look the producers are seeking. I thought that having a photograph of an actual outfit would make my shopping easier.

I was wrong! The photograph was of a super skinny, extremely tall model. After trying on several outfits similar to the one pictured, I concluded that the style was not meant for somebody of my shape. Apparently my bum is too close to my shoulders (i.e. I'm too short) to carry off the dramatic look.

Every outfit made me look short and dumpy. Maria and I both started to laugh when we realized how utterly ridiculous I looked. I didn't look like a sporty, cool Mom. I looked like a Weeble-- the rounded toys that wobble but don't fall down.

Discouraged, but knowing that I couldn't give up, we tried another concept. As I was trying to button into crop pants, regretting my Olive Garden dinner, Scott called. Apparently our riding mower broke down in the front yard. I literally broke down into tears in the dressing room and sobbed for about five minutes.

I am not sure why I reacted so strongly to the broken lawn mower. I am just so tired of everything always breaking. I was feeling ugly, fat and worthless because of my hurt leg. It was the last straw and I wanted to hide from the world!

I wanted to go home, but my knowledge concerning lawn mower repair is limited to what I can Google. I needed to find an outfit because, even if a broken mower was sitting in our front yard, the film crew was going to be arriving at my house on Saturday morning.

It is hard for me to keep shopping when I feel ugly, but I kept searching. Finally, after limping around the mall for another hour, we found something that would work. I don't love it, but I don't hate it either. I doubt that I would have liked anything at that point so I deferred and trusted my friend.

Looking at the outfit now, I think that I made the correct choice. I'm still frustrated about the lawn mower, but I'm no longer on the verge of tears. Sometimes I guess I just need to breakdown so that I can move forward. I am hoping that today is a better day.

Cleaning..

This week I have dedicated myself to scrubbing my house. Yes, it needed to be done, but that was not my motivation for working so hard (although it probably should have been). An Ossur sponsored film crew is coming to my house on Saturday to make a video featuring Robby and me. I certainly don't want my dirty house preserved forever on film!

Tuesday I worked all morning in my dining room and living room. Eight bags of trash and 5 hours later, the two rooms were finally clean and organized. Robby begrudgingly agreed to refrain from using glitter and paint until after Saturday, a deal which cost me only a large bottle of bubbles and an ice cream cone. I hope that he is always this easy to bribe!

In the afternoon Robby and I took to the front yard for a rousing water gun battle. (He won.) We then played in the sprinkler, blew bubbles and played with the hose until Scott came came. We were both soaked but happy. Robby was still full of energy, but I was exhausted!

Yesterday I focused my energy on our bedrooms. Sophie, my cat, is getting older and isn't doing well. She has been vomiting more frequently, creating ugly orange stains all over our light beige carpet. It took me two hours with a quasi-functional carpet cleaner, but most of the stains have been removed!

Feeling motivated and experiencing an unexplainable burst of energy, I decided to move the broken treadmill out of my bedroom. Moving the large-- and heavy-- piece of equipment by myself was not my wisest decision! I twisted my knee and my stump went into a charlie horse cramp that stopped me in my tracks. Robby and I were forced to shimmy past the treadmill in the hallway for the remainder of the day until Scott came home from work and took it downstairs. I really need to remember that I'm a middle-aged one-legged woman before I decide to play moving man!

Last night as I was massaging my leg and icing my knee, it occurred to me that it really doesn't matter how clean my house looks in the video if I can't walk! I am taking a sick leg day. I'm hoping Robby will be happy watching Scooby-Doo and playing with Charlie, because this Momom is out on cleaning injured reserve!

Meteorite Men

More than anything else, Robby wanted a meteorite detector for his birthday. He is enthralled with outer space and all things astronomy related. His favorite television show is Meteorite Men, a show about two middle aged men who scour the landscape in search of the coveted meteorite, while uncovering a lot of "meteor-wrongs" in the process.

After researching this odd gift request, I discovered that a simple metal detector will suffice for a novice meteorite hunter. I ordered the detector with a satisfaction of knowing that my little guy was going to be thrilled. As soon as he tore the wrapping on his gift I knew that I had hit a home run. He began screaming, "It's just what I've always wanted" while jumping up and down. It was a moment that I wish I had my video camera running!

After we assembled his detector, Robby immediately went to work in our yard. Our neighbor, Mr. Bill, saw us and came over to wish Robby a happy birthday. My little metal/ meteorite hunter couldn't wait to show Mr. Bill his prized gift as he yammered about finding the "Tuscon ring" along with meteorites and perhaps a few diamonds.

Yesterday morning I spent cleaning the upstairs of my house. Robby went hunting in the yard but returned about 30 minutes later, deflated. He didn't find anything. I felt bad for him--a metal detector isn't a lot of fun unless you find something.

Last night, after the heat finally broke (a little), Robby and I went out to hunt for meteorites. Mr. Bill saw us and casually invited us to look in his back yard. Robby was elated and went sprinting over, metal detector waving wildly as he ran.

After a deep discussion, Mr. Bill and Robby decided that the best place to begin hunting is in the mole tunnels. Mr. Bill explained that the moles dig up the meteorites when they burrow, which makes them easier to detect and less work to dig up. Robby, understanding his logic, began searching all of the mole holes in Mr. Bill's back yard.

After about 90 seconds I heard a squeal of delight. Robby's metal detector was beeping, and it wasn't because it was too close to Momom's leg! He found something. He began to dig and... he found a meteorite!

Robby was so excited when he unearthed his treasure that he immediately pulled down his pants and peed on the closest tree. He jumped up and down and kept repeating "I can't believe I found a real meteorite that came from outer space and crashed into the planet Earth." Mr. Bill told him to keep looking, and low and behold he found another!

It turns out that during the afternoon heat, Mr. Bill planted remnants of cannon balls from the civil war throughout his yard. He wanted Robby to be successful in his quest and is hopeful that metal detecting will become a hobby for him. (It turns out that Mr. Bill has an impressive collection of Civil War artifacts that he discovered while metal detecting.)

Who knows, maybe the two of them will go hunting for treasure some time. With them working together, I have no doubt that they will find a real meteorite (although I would prefer a diamond or two). I do know that Robby will never forget finding his first meteorite--which he slept with last night

I'm Not Going...

I have received a lot of emails recently asking about my attending the ACA Conference later this week. I, like many amputees around the country, look forward to this event throughout the year. In the past I have been able to attend by working at the Ossur booth. This year I will be neither in the booth nor attending the conference.

I would be lying if I didn't admit that I'm disappointed to be missing the conference. This conference is, without a doubt, my favorite event to work. I relish meeting new amputees and exchanging stories and ideas. The idea for this blog was born at the ACA conference in 2008!

During past conferences I have met so many new people and I will miss all of them, especially the AmputeeMommy friends who said they will look for me. I feel bad that I won't be there to give them all hugs and a personal thank-you (along with a cookie or two) for supporting my blog, but I am certain to meet all of you at another events.

I know that participants will have a fantastic time, meet new people, and learn a lot! If you are so inclined, I would appreciate your spreading the word about this blog to other attendees.

Our 2:10 photo... My little buddy is officially 5!!

No birthday celebration is complete without a water gun fight!

And, of course a Pirate ship cake!

Happy Birthday Robby!

Dear Robby,

Happy Birthday to the sweetest little boy in the world. I wish I could put into words how much I love you. Unfortunately I don't know the words to convey how much you mean to me. All I can say is that I love you, though it seems woefully inadequate.

It is hard to believe that today you are 5. You are growing up so fast that it is making my heart hurt. I wish that time would go slower just so that you would stay little just a few days longer. You are so proud of your "big boy" status, but you will always be my little baby.

Didn't I just bring you home from the hospital? Do you remember the seemingly endless fits of colic that kept us both sleep deprived? I know that you don't remember my rocking you to sleep--but I will never forget how you felt snuggled on my chest.

I have a video of you taking your first steps. Your little arms were held out in front, reaching for me to catch you if you fell. Now you run so quickly that you are hard for me to catch. But I will always be there to pick you up when you fall.

Your first word was not Mom or even Dad. It was egg, followed quickly by meow and Scott. You didn't say Mom until you had mastered about 100 words. Although my name came late, hearing you say, "I love you Momom because we are best buddies" always makes me smile, no matter how bad my day!

You love nature and insects. The truth is, I hate bugs, reptiles and fish. Yet several hours a week I am out in the yard, searching for these critters with you. I do it because it makes you happy. Seeing you excited and learning makes me happy. I would do anything for you Robby, and I hope that you know this!

Robby, I am so proud to be your Mommy. You demonstrate a sense of compassion towards others which is both admirable and brave. Several times I have witnessed you intervene on behalf of a playmate in need who was being bullied or pushed around. I see the pain in your eyes when you hear or see somebody being picked on. Despite differences in both age and size, you showed no hesitation and acted because it was the right thing to do. I hope that you will always remain confident in your convictions and your willingness to help others.

You have such a unique perspective on the world. My changing legs, adjusting suction or slipping on socks is your "norm." I hope that you will always be this understanding and accepting.

Happy Birthday Pirate Robby. You are a smart, kind and compassionate little boy. I am lucky to be your Mommy, even in your Robby Rotten moments!

Every year on Robby's birthday, we take a family photo at 2:10 pm, the precise time he was born.