It’s the 19th of August. I have no idea how that happened. The summer appears to be starting its final lap and I’m feeling a little discomforted. This summer is a different world to the ‘normal’ summer holidays we have around here. It’s been a summer full of one of us being exhausted or one of us having minor surgery followed by major recovery. Or, let’s face it, both of those things at once.
I’m 10 days into recovery from my tonsillectomy. I’m told it’s worth it. It had better be. Adult tonsillectomy’s get a bad rep for a reason – mr anaesthetist who tried to reassure me. Recovery sucks. The only benefit so far is felt by Husbandface who says I no longer snore. After 7 years that’s got to be a pretty good result. Anyway. It’s not been a fun 10 days. My fears from childhood came true as I bled and had to rush to A and E earlier this week. It led to an overnight stay in hospital feeling somewhat of a fraud as I was the only one who could walk on my ward. However, since then I’ve been able to eat more, sleep with one less pillow and for 2 hours at a time instead of 40 min. Woot.
This morning my brain has started to stir. I still can’t talk much and yet I need to process. It’s been an odd week. For the first time in 4 years I’ve been off duty. Not primary child carer, not the one sorting out stuff in the house. I’ve had a week off. (I mean I’ve been in hideous agony but my back isn’t and that hasn’t happened for about 2 years now…). I’ve been mentally out of it most of that time so it hasn’t been hard to hide away and let the excellent Husbandface take the reins (thanking God for the timing of this and his summer holidays etc).
As my brain begins to stir I find I am missing ordering the chaos, I’ve got pretty good at it over the years. I’m missing hanging out with my insane boys, I’m almost missing getting frustrated with them. It’s odd watching Husbandface go through the rhythms of the day, the same ups and downs as I do, the getting dressed fight, the eat your breakfast exhuasting battle, the fun of imaginative play, the joys of chats and cuddles and Lego and hilarious fun. It’s reassuring seeing how hard it is. It reminds me that it isn’t easy and that mostly it’s not me, it’s them.
After the exhaustion of this year, holding this ship together and the ugly ways I’ve taken out frustration and stress on the small ones it’s been lovely to not have to do the hard stuff. To not have shouted at them since I can’t remember. I’m glad that I could totally zone out, Husbandface is amazing with our boys. He does things differently from me, and that’s a good thing. I’m appreciating the balance our personalities bring to this Team. It’s been hard being a passenger for a bit but not that hard.
As I wake up I sense it’s going to get harder. I still need to rest but I want to jump back in and pull ropes, steer a bit and swab the deck. I need to make myself hold back and not jump in before I’m ready. My overwhelming desire to control needs to be tamed. For now I’m still a passenger on this ship. But being a passenger makes me realise how much I love my actual job, how much I love my boys and how glad I am to have a co-captain who is pretty good at steering himself.
When thinking about recovery time I had a silly list of things I wanted to do and achieve in this time. No prizes for guessing that it’s not really been the time to read 100 books or map out the book I want to write or anything like that. I’ve been unbelieveably sore, in and out of sleep, maxed out on painkillers and unable to eat. I have managed to watch 3 whole series of the Gilmore Girls which has been the perfect gentle thing to get me through the days. It hasn’t been what I expected and that’s ok. Life rolls along. There will be time enough to read and write. Right now I’m just grateful to be almost believing that I could eat without pain at some point soon.