8 years.

Every movement yesterday was a painful reminder of my misadventures in quick mud. My body was sore from the activity and the multiple cuts and scrapes that I earned orienteering through the thickets. Each time I moved I felt twangs of pains and discomfort surge through my legs and torso. I am either out of shape or old. Perhaps my pain was an uncomfortable marriage of both age and ability. 

I spent most of the day working and trying to keep everything running smoothly. In the evening we went on a family bike ride, trying to take advantage of the weather while working out some of the kinks in my leg muscles. It was nice just spending some time rolling through the neighborhood with the kids and Scott. Timmy has become quite skilled on his little electric scooter!

This morning I woke knowing that it was going to be an emotional day. 8 years ago today my Dad passed away. I miss him and I can't help but think about how much he has missed by dying too early. Pancreatic Cancer is horrific.

The older kids have some memories of their Candy Papaw, although most of them have been bolstered through stories shared. I try to keep him alive as much as possible because the thought of them not having memories of him hurts. Timmy, who has no true memories of his Candy Papaw, is so familiar with the stories that he speaks as if he remembers him. 

I asked Robby to light the memorial candle before he went to bed at night. I was overwhelmed when I heard him playing the Jewish Prayer for Mourning on his phone as he was lighting the wick for his Candy Papaw. I know my Dad would have been touched by this gesture. My goodness I wish he was still here.

Quick Mud

I had my own little Tough Mudder yesterday, although I was woefully unprepared for the event.

While trying to help Timmy, who is much smaller and adept at hopping over or under obstacles, I had to scale fallen trees and traverse through downed limbs and thickets. He had no problem maneuvering over and around the forest obstacles, but it was not nearly as easy for me. I thought it might be easier to just walk through the stream so I decided to sacrifice a dry foot (I don't care if the prosthetic foot is wet because I can't feel it) and I hopped into the stream. 

WRONG decision!

With my third step off the rocky shore I ended up in quick mud. I tried to walk and my prosthetic was lodged in the mud. I held onto the side and pulled it up as I tried to walk. Despite my efforts, I ended up sinking to the trim line of my socket in the deep and squishy mud. My other leg then began to sink, knocking me off kilter and pushing me into the water. Thankfully a rock to my ribs broke my fall as I contorted on the way down in an attempt to save my cell phone from a watery grave.

After several frantic moments, I was finally able to dig out and break the mud seal around my leg, allowing me to pull it out. I threw it onto the bank and commando crawled out of the stream, through the mud, and under the thicket bushes until I was finally to a clear area to stand and re-don my leg. Every inch caused something to be cut or scraped. By the time I was in a clearance I looked like a bloody mud monster. I broke down and sobbed before pulling myself together (literally).

I struggled to get my leg on, but after a few attempts I was finally able to walk. Of course, the suspension system was lousy after being covered with mud, so I had to walk up from the stream trying to hold my leg on while maneuvering our very specific path. Each step was just another source of misery.

Every single part of me is sore this morning and I have cuts all over my scalp. Yesterday was my first experience with quick mud. I would not recommend it.

Leaches?

Spring has sprung in Virginia. Our trees are in full bloom, covering the lawn with pretty little pedals every time a strong breeze blows. My weeping cherry trees are especially pretty this year. At times I find myself lost in thought, just staring out the window at my pretty trees. The blooms never last long and soon the flowers will be gone and the trees will camouflage back into the woods.

After school the boys and I decided to take advantage of the spring weather by cleaning a path to the stream. Timmy planted a flag on Robby Island, overthrowing him and renaming the territory "Timmy Island with sometimes Robby." While I was busy clearing brush and Timmy was running through the stream, Robby was busy metal detecting. (Unfortunately, the metal detector batteries died about 10 minutes into the effort.)

I had forgotten how much fun the boys have at the stream. I also forgot how difficult it is for me to travel down there. The walk would be so much easier if we could clear the branches and ginormous fallen trees for a path. Sigh. I guess I have another thing on my to-do list. In the meantime, I'm going to strive for a path clear of thorns and poison ivy while accepting that I will have to walk over dead trees and branches. It won't be an easy or relaxing walk, but it is going to be manageable.  

After playing for about an hour, we headed back up to get ready for dinner. Timmy was covered with mud. Per our protocol, I went inside to run a bath while he stripped down outside. When I went to retrieve his muddy clothes, I realized that he was wearing two pairs of jeans, two pairs of his underpants and one pair of mine.

I asked him why he wore so many clothes and my underpants. His answer was succinct. "I was afraid there would be leaches and I wanted to protect my penis. Your underpants are a lot bigger so they provided a lot of protection." 

Well, I asked.

Magic Maker

This year I completely bonked on our Saint Patrick's Day traditions. I woke up and decorated Timmy's room for the holiday, but we failed to make our traditional leprechaun trap. I had hoped that he forgot but his classmates leprechaun trap failures that morning was the reminder I dreaded. 

Somehow, I managed to convince him that leprechauns come on both Saint Patrick's Day eve and on the night proper so we still had an opportunity to try to catch the little bugger.  Eventually Timmy was able to turn the situation around in his head so that he had the advantage. Surely the leprechauns were tired from all of the visiting the night before and the partying of the day so they would be easier to catch. I liked that logic so I decided to embrace it. Yes Timmy. Drunk leprechauns are easier to catch.

Friday night Scott, Timmy and Robby all worked to create a trap that would surely be successful. Lined with a glue trap and baited with cookies and gold dust over a trap door, the boys set it out before bed.  I made a mental note to wake up early to flip the trap and create a leprechaun mess. (Ironically, having a 'lived in' home helps because I don't have to work too hard to create the leprechaun chaos.) 

I woke up Saturday morning, took one step into the hallway and my jaw dropped. Toilet paper was strewn down the hallway.  The living room was a mess and the trap was triggered with a dollar and some coins were scattered around it. The toilet water was even dyed green!  

In the middle of the night, without prompting, Robby decided to assume the role of Magic Maker. Without my asking he recreated the trap traditions to perfection simply to make his little brother happy. I was oddly overwhelmed with emotion and pride. By making one simple mess in the living room, Robby provided me a glimpse into the type of father/uncle/friend that he will be one day. 

He is a Magic Maker.