I had a post op doctor's appt on Thursday and I felt great! The doctor said I looked "very functional" which, I'm sure is the highest compliment I could've gotten from this particular doctor. (One more visit and I never have to see her again…hooray!) My appointment was quicker than I expected and since I had insisted on driving myself (I've been pain med free since Wednesday) I thought I'd hang onto to my freedom for a little while longer. I stopped for a Diet DP at Sonic, filled up the Jeep with gas, drove aimlessly through Allen listening to all the songs I've missed for two whole weeks, and then picked up Megan to take her shopping. We had such a great day. I love sneaking in one on one time with my daughters and Megan is delightful right now. I love her introspective conversations, her discovery of boys, and her secret desire to save every living thing on the planet.
We have an open door policy at our house with any of our kids' friends. And this week, a few of them have camped out at our house. I don't know what the draw is, but it warms my heart that they feel safe here, that they stay for days, and that they feel completely comfortable talking to us about whatever is on their minds. On Friday, a friend needed a little help with her kids and since I had a house full of babysitters, I offered to have them come for the day. My girls (including the visiting teenagers) were a huge help, but the truth is, when there are people in my house, of any age, I feel guilty sitting down. What is it that compels me to have to tidy, entertain, and make food when people are here? Whatever it is, it's innate and I can't turn it off.
My activities on Thursday and then my compulsion on Friday led to a really regrettable Friday night. I had been planning to go on the Youth Temple trip that night, but by 4:00, I was already running on borrowed spoons. There was no way I could go to the Temple. Instead, I spent the evening camped out in my familiar nest in the living room barely able to walk to the kitchen. The girls came home at 10:00 and wanted to talk, and since Craig had taken the three younger kids camping, we all decided to all pile in my bed for the night. I would have loved that on any other night, but a sleepover was really the last thing I needed on Friday.
Saturday I felt awful. And today isn't much better.
I can't get this cloudy feeling out of my head.
I'm constantly cold.
And everything hurts.
This is week 3 of missing church and the first week with a new Sunday School class, and I'm stuck here in my nest…again. I decided to make a really easy dinner because they'll all be hungry when they get home, but that's about all the energy I have.
It's 28 degrees and blustery outside. I'm pretty sure I can feel the wind coming right through the windows, and every ten minutes or so I try turning up the heat, but it doesn't seem to help.
So, on yet another quiet Sunday of recovering, I'm reading my scriptures, eating my weight in Sonic ice, and watching season three of Downton Abbey so I'm prepared for the season four premiere tonight. Lots of quality time in my nest.
Today, even though I would like to be at church with my family, even though none of Christmas has been put away, and even though I stink at recovering, there's still so much to be grateful for. I'm grateful for quiet Sundays. I'm grateful that Craig moved the Mac downstairs for me. I'm grateful for crockpot dinners that cook while I sit. I'm grateful for fuzzy socks. I'm grateful that even though everyone else has to go somewhere tomorrow morning, I do not. I'm grateful that I can take all of next week and the next and the next to keep recovering if I need to (hopefully I won't!) And I'm grateful for a head that is clear enough to hear that little voice telling me to be still.