Teddie Bear Adventures

That Feeling

The pit in your stomach. 

The nauseous feeling that is churning.

My heart is aching as well. The accident that caused the turmoil. The unknown. The cries. The sad eyes. The stillness.

My little baby had an accident. My little Bear. My puppy. She was under my feet. Playing like a puppy as a canister slipped from the pantry shelf above my head. I couldn’t catch it. It smashed the floor and the little dainty puppy’s paw. Tiny little girl didn’t stand a chance to dodge what would be a missile in her eyes coming at her full speed.

Oh my heart sank as she yelped. An ungodly sound like I had never heard before. How did such a little baby make such a loud scream? She was in agony. I never experienced anything like this. My stomach had a super big pain in it. The I’m going throw up now but I have to hold it. I have to be strong for her. I have to get her help.

I practiced my deep breathing. I woke the world up. The vet wasn’t open yet. Waiting 30 minutes seemed like a lifetime for them to open. I made it to the vet for an emergency appointment. I waited as the tech unlocked the building. They knew a crazy momma was there. They took my baby for X-rays. I had to wait yet again. 15 minutes for the results. 

That pit in my tummy was raging. My mind was dancing. My heart was aching. What horrible person lets such an accident happen? That would be me. I am 100% responsible yet I can’t absorb the pain for her. This is devastating. An experience I don’t wish on my worst enemy.

As I wait, I write. I’m choosing writing therapy to help calm my mind. To help share my pain and heart with others. A painful part of life but a real life encounter. Her blanket is clinched in my arms as I wait. As I write on my tablet. Sitting alone in a desolate room. The longer it takes the worse I think the outcome will be. Oh how I want to snuggle her during this difficult time. 

She is so loved, but does she know it? Deep breathing ensues. The vet comes back.  Nothing is broken. Hallelujah. A bone bruise. She will be sore but the doctor assured me she will be fine in a few days. Off we go with some anti inflammatory medicine to ease the suffering.

This momma sighs in relief to a point, but wishes she could start the day over to eliminate this mess all together. Snuggle your pets and loved ones. Circumstances can change in an instant. Look at these worn out eyes. She has nap time written all over her cute face.

Goodbye for now. I do plan to document her recovery at some point. Watch for a later post.

fitness and nutrition, health

Aches

Oh my quads. 

Oh no my pec muscles.

Geez my triceps hurt too.

Oh my traps.

Oh my hip flexors are undeniably tight.

Oh my hammies. Yes, my hamstrings hurt too.

Oh my ass and all those fibers in the gluteus maximus. They all hurt. A slight bend or shift and I feel them all.

The hinge. The doorway stretch. They help but they show tightness that one can’t see. What would my body look like under my skin?

No joke. Everything seems to be achy this Tuesday morning. Was I hit by a car? No. It’s the after effects of the Murph Hero WOD I did on Monday. I’ve been doing this workout for the past five years and I never remember being this sore.

Is it old age?

Did I lack preparation?

Did I not warm up properly?

Was I sleep deprived?

I am sure there was a combination of all of the above. I also probably didn’t fuel my body as well as I could have the weekend prior either. Now I’m suffering.

I had a nap late Tuesday. My body said it was a requirement. I didn’t fight the urge. It helped my recovery. I slept in Wednesday. Something I hardly ever do. My body said thank you. I’m getting less sore by the minute.

Why suffer? Why would I even think about doing this workout again? The irony is I will probably do this again for many more years to come. Maybe not for the aches afterwards but for the tribute to those who are no longer able to do the workout. 

Soldiers lost in the line of duty. Soldiers suffering with a lifelong injury. Soldiers suffering in silence. Veteran near and far whom I honor.

My pain is temporary. I’m able to write about it and get on with my life even if I move slower. I’m still moving.

This years pain and suffering was an honor. A badge of courage. Another tribute year in the books. As I end this post I will most likely head to bed early again today for yet another round of rest!

perspective

Let the Tears Come

You could hear it coming…a pause that lasted a little too long. The turn away from the microphone. Then, when she turned back, the tell tale crack in her voice. Tears.

The people around me became visibly and audibly uncomfortable. Squirming in chairs. A woman a few feet away recoiled, mumbling “oh no, oh don’t” under her breath. Crying isn’t allowed.

What is it about crying that gets people upset? Why is it wrong to do it in public? In a speech, ok, blubbering tears may make you harder to understand, but still. Why is that strong emotion supposed to be kept inside, kept out of sight?

For me, crying isn’t unusual. I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m touched by something. I cry when I’m overwhelmed or upset. And of course, I cry when I’m sad. I cry at commercials, photos, memories, songs, all kinds of stuff.

Sometimes people say crying is a sign of femininity and, therefore, weakness. I disagree and this is sexist, People’s discomfort with emotion is the real pathology. Humans are feeling beings. I am sure we all know examples of people who keep all their emotions bottled up. Sometimes those people are cold. Sometimes they wait and explode.

So I say, let the tears come. Keep talking as you weep. There are beautiful and tragic things in this world and it is ok to react to them, respond to them, and let people see us resonating deeply with this mixed-up universe.

Feeling isn’t weakness.

perspective

Spanking

Do you believe spanking children is a form of discipline or would you consider it abuse?

I have never been a fan of spanking. I wasn’t spanked as a child and I turned out okay. However I know others who were subjected to spanking in their early days and speak of how it made them obedient.

Does the fear of harm or pain equate to obedience? If so, what does it teach a child?

-to fear things in life?

-to accept the way things are and never challenge or assert one’s beliefs?

-to respect those who raise a hand to you?

The latter makes me cringe honestly. To teach young developing minds that you respect anyone who raises their hand to you is just some thing that turns my tummy.

When I was raised I knew right from wrong. I didn’t always make the right choice but I knew what was right from wrong. I didn’t need the whooping of a belt or stick to understand. I heard disappointment in my parents’ voices and that was all I needed.

What happens if you are raised with spanking and your spouse is raised with no spanking? What path do those two take with their kids? Is one right or wrong?

This is a thought post. I don’t think spanking is necessary to teach youngsters. It’s a fear tactic. If it was a best practice wouldn’t schools use it? 

Then I think about the military and those raised in military families. Soldiers are expected to be obedient and follow directives. If one steps out of line they have some Sort of punishment that is normally physical in nature. Not a spanking but physically daunting in one way or another. Is spanking more prevalent in these households or those with military backgrounds?

I just wonder about many things and today my wandering mind visited the topic of spanking. I wonder if I’m a bad parent for choosing not to spank my kids or if I qualify for saint hood. What’s your take on spanking? I would really love to read private comments on the subject.

As we blog we cover many topics. Some topics are appreciated more than others. We don’t shy away from difficult topics and we hope you don’t either. Drop us a line any time on this post or another. We do review all comments we receive.

author moments

Symbols

Meaning is hidden everywhere. Places. Signs. Memories. That little park you pass on the way to work every day is the place where someone proposed. It is also the place where some friends had a huge fight. It’s the place where a kid broke her arm and ended up in a cast. Maybe it’s even the place someone first learned to drive, smoke pot, who knows. Countless scenes in countless stories have taken place there. All in the little park you pass each day without thinking.

Meaning, symbols, roadblocks are everywhere. We stumble over the hearts and sometimes heartaches of others without even knowing it.

Music is potent for memories with me. I grew up singing and listening to tunes all the time. Paul Simon, the Statler Brothers, and Dolly Parton on my parents’ 8-track tape deck in our conversion van. Show tunes and standards I belted out with our player piano in the basement. And then the love songs I would pine over each night, wishing in vain someone would dedicate something to me. It took decades for me to listen to the music of Chicago without bristling or quickly switching it off. Even today, there are songs I may never listen to again. Places I may never go. Overly sensitive? Perhaps. After all, it is just a place, a song, who cares?

Maybe I’m just too much. I willingly embrace being labeled sentimental. Someone watching closely may see the quick shadow roll across my face when that potent memory pops up. Most will miss it.

Just part of what makes me me.

For some people, cardinals are a special symbol. A reminder or even a visit from someone departed and dear. A symbol more purposeful than just happenstance…a place you used to go, a song you used to sing to. This is more of a sign. For me, it’s ladybugs. They always pop up at the most unlikely times. They bring me back to myself. A reassurance. A reminder.

Recently, someone new in my life called me ladybug as a nickname. And it stuck. Sometimes when she says it, it makes me smile, sometimes tear up, sometimes just makes me hold my breath an extra beat. She could never have known that ladybugs are so special for me. Just a sign that she has some role to play, a scene to share. A hand reaching out of the day-to-day doldrums to remind me of the bigger picture.

What it all means.