OMG it has been a long time since I have posted.
July 1st we went on a family holiday, that lasted exactly 13 days, until I broke my foot. It was a wonderful holiday though, I am not complaining, and I am hoping to do the same itinerary next year, when the kids are older and my foot is better. We drove from Northern Town where we live, to Jasper and Banff, in the beautiful national park setting where the mountains and the lakes are breathtaking. We then went to the Okanagan Valley and swam in the warm Skaha lake. We ended the trip in Vancouver, when I broke my foot on our first day of attempting to sail on the Pacific. I wrote the story down for a potential submission to a cruising magazine, so if I do not submit it, then I will post it here.
I have a Jones' fracture, that is a fracture of the fifth metatarsal (outer area of the right foot). It is a bad area for healing, both because of the blood supply being poor, and because of the strong tendons that pull on the outer area of the foot. Runners tend to heal poorly too because of high rates of re-fracture. So, I have chosen to have a screw inserted. It will be done in two days. In the meantime, I am hobbling on crutches, and will have to do so for the next six weeks. I have an Air Cast boot on, and cannot say that life is as easy as it was three days ago.
I must say, though, that compared to being on bedrest, this situation is 100% better. The major downsides are the blisters I am getting on my torso from the crutches, and the fact that my left leg is pretty sore from all the hopping. I feel like I have done 2000 single leg squats today. My arms are feeling the love as well. I think the term MAN ARMS is going to be pretty suitable soon.
So I thought that the hardest part about this situation was not being able to run. Boy, was I wrong. The hardest part is that I cannot pick up Daniel. That means that I cannot take him away from the place he is choosing to have a tantrum in public. Like the restaurant the other day, where he decided to lie down in the middle between the tables (where unsuspecting innocent people were eating) and kick the ground while screaming. I have tried to talk him out of it, but we all know how that goes. I picked him up, but he struggled some more, and I had to put him down because I can only do so much on one foot. I asked one of the waitresses to help me take him outside, but she said she is not comfortable because he is so upset. I then asked for a phone to call my husband, but the phone was behind the counter. She let me call on her cell phone, but he did not answer, so in the end, the restaurant manager picked him up and helped me by carrying him down to the marina, where the boat was. I have cried so much that it was embarrassing. I have never felt that I have failed as hard at this parenting gig as that day.
That was two days ago. I now have realized that I can fail in many more ways: cannot chase after him to change his diaper, cannot keep up with him when he runs away, cannot (yet) cook food or go shopping for food for the kids or myself, and cannot force him to put a seat belt on the way I used to when he refuses. Hence, for the next six weeks, I don't actually know if I can take him anywhere safely, unless my husband or a friend can come along. Which is a bit difficult because it is summer and we all like to be outside. I am hoping that he will adapt, and that things will improve a bit with his attitude as well, but he is a strong willed 2 year old that wants to have his way or he gets mad.
By the time I am out of this cast, it will be snowing. That is the part that probably sucks the most.