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| The strange world of shoulder anatomy. |
Today I woke up with the worst pain in my shoulder. Perhaps, ever. I had plans of getting my butt in gear, going to Stirling and just generally killing myself at the shopping centre (hate those places when they're packed.) Well, my plans were foiled when I woke up with a pulled muscle (seriously hoping that's all it is.)
So instead I spent the day eating an obscene amount of food - honestly. Probably the most food I've ate in one day in a long time, I just couldn't stop opening my mouth and shoving food in. I think I was working on the theory that food usually makes me feel better, it may even give me a rush of endorphin's and help with the natural pain relief. I also intentionally put pressure on my shoulder for a period of time by lying on my back and then sitting forward - to relieve pain. Don't ask me how that works, it just does.
I was really annoyed this morning. Annoyed because I kept thinking to myself, "as if I don't deal with enough pain and knocks to my health, this is just what I needed." I said a silent prayer to myself as I was crippled by the pain and then my shoulder eased a bit - I could barely breathe in and out before this point the pain was so overwhelming. I did feel bad about saying a prayer because I'd fallen asleep while in the middle of my prayer on the Friday night/morning and I had a bit of a cheek asking for help when I'd left God high and dry mid-sentence the night before.
I was also in so much pain that I had to go back and repeat sentences I'd already said, just to make sure I'd said them. Because in my cloud of pain - oh but it was 'just' a pulled muscle, wasn't it, Bryan? - I was confused and a little bit sick. Thinking about that now I should have been worried, but I was so confused about waking up, not being able to move or take a proper breath that I didn't think of muscle tissue infections or something more sinister. Now I'm just convinced my body freaked out, went into a bit of a panic that I couldn't move, and I developed anxiety over it. I'm positive it's a pulled muscle because when I run the shower head over it? I'm virtually pain free.
Anyway, I hope I don't get judged on my vain repetitions and God just see's my praying OCD for what it is. And I also hope that Bryan doesn't pull his neck out of place again - despite me walking out of the bedroom, in a big cream puff, and then spitting out to him; "I can't wait until you pull your neck again! Then I can say to you 'oh it's just a pulled muscle.' "
On top of this I decided it would be smart to take a week off from blogging - not just because of the pulled muscle but because of a combination of many things; one being that I want to focus my energies and efforts into motherhood. I read an important blog post (I can't be bothered to hunt around for the link) about how children don't need fancy smancy crafts as seen on Pinterest, that they don't need 10 different sensory boxes nor does my house need to look like something out of Apartment Therapy in order to state the point that my child needs me. Not a clean house with immaculate floors, a swept kitchen, up to date washing, shiny sparkling dishes in the cupboards and the full works. I also don't need to be blogging when I could be spending time with Roman - although usually I do wait until he's in bed unless I get a few spare moments in the morning to quickly update things.
What my child needs is me. Especially at this age - this age I won't be able to get back again or repair any damage I might do intentionally. My wee boy is a great wee soul, he really is. He's so content about 95% of the time, sleeps through the night (this doesn't equate to the 'great wee soul' comment, it's just a nice bonus I enjoy), always receives praise on his cheerfulness and is generally just full of life. I'm blessed with Roman as my son because goodness knows I was a very, very determined little girl; full of cheeky comebacks, antics and driving people crazy all the time with my cheeky behaviour.
But this little boy, this content little smiler, he needs me. This blog does not need me, I give it too much of my time and I need a break. I need to sort a few things out with our landlord, I need to sort out the walls in my home (covered in mould!), I need to sort out my eternally messy room and I need time to just belong to me and Roman in the afternoons. I need my son and he needs me - the more time we spend together, the more calm he becomes. His behaviour becomes seriously altered when he is ignored or, shock horror, is left to watch TV for an afternoon. He has started calling out for me in the mornings - when all I've ever known is a daddy's boy.
So my goal is to work in the mornings meanwhile Bryan cares for Roman and then the afternoon belongs to me and my toddler - and Bryan can work in the afternoon while me and Ro stroll in nature and the shops ;). For that afternoon the TV will be off and if it's on I will talk to him about all the small details of the show and do sign language with him - which he loves. And for that whole afternoon I will not go anywhere near the internet or my laptop. It will be shut off as soon as all my work is complete and I will put an out-of-office reply on emails.
Afternoons will be made of mess, fun, frolics, connecting with this beautiful country we have the privilege of living in and tapping into things that catch Roman's (and my) interest.
We've been doing this for a good while now, but lately I feel myself slacking off so that's my plan. I need to be strict because lately my weeks have felt like they drag and as though nothing ever gets completed - mainly house work.
So here's to the week and that we all enjoy what's ahead of us - and that we remember our children need us and don't care about how successful we are in a career or how wonderful our cupcakes are. They'll remember how we made them feel and the time we spent with them - not the time we spent on Pinterest fooling ourselves we'd make those kick-ass crafts with our kids. Although I do remember the kick-ass crafts me and my mum used to make together.
We were an unstoppable force.
