Lifenut

Summer Photo Splash #3

On Tuesday, June 17th, my mom stepped off a curb wonkily when a gust of wind blew hair in her face. She twisted her ankle as she fell to the ground, landing squarely on her right knee and hand. She heard a loud pop and knew she was in trouble. A woman driving by saw her crawling to a curb and stopped to ask if she needed help. My mom said, well yes. The woman went into the business my mom had just left. They called 911. My mom didn’t have her cell phone with her because it wasn’t holding a charge. The woman called my dad and told him to meet my mom at the ER.

She broke her kneecap into chunky bits of bone and needed surgery the next day. I drove to Grand Junction, alone, Wednesday and stayed until the following Thursday. For eight weeks, she will be casted and will require either a wheelchair or walker, depending on how far and where she wants to go. I stayed until my sister was able to fly out west from Charlotte, an adventure which took her over 24 hours of travel and bags lost for three days. Also, I had to pick her up in a neighboring town.

I was glad to be able to help out. My awesome husband managed to work from home and care for our gang, making it look easy and fun. I missed everyone terribly, having no idea when I waved goodbye it would turn into the longest span away from my husband and children we’ve ever had. It was a surreal experience for all, especially my mom.

These photos are a fraction of what I took in her gardens and around the Grand Valley, my hometown, when we/I managed to get outside. I plan to write out some thoughts later as they come because, well, seeing your parents in a new light is pretty revolutionary for everyone involved and a lot to wrestle with. It all comes down to love, though.

The view from my mom’s hospital room

Her orthopedic surgeon’s office is on this street.

My dad at the hospital

My mom has gorgeous gardens she works really hard to maintain. She won’t be able to for weeks.

Palisade, Colorado, with the Bookcliffs in the background

The south side of the Grand Mesa from off Highway 50, running through the desert.

On Thursday, I drove that way. Home.

Little blasts of a deep connection

Ollie had another strange breathing/croupy/wheezing attack, so I called the pediatrician the moment they opened yesterday and made an appointment. Ryley asked if he could come. His motives were ulterior (he had money and suspected I’d end up at a store) but I was glad to have him join us.

It’s odd being out with just my oldest and youngest boys. One is tall with size 12 (and growing) feet, the other a chirpy toddler. When we arrived at the doctor’s office, Ryley got Ollie out of his car seat and seemed disappointed when I took his baby brother out of his arms. I tried to redeem the moment by settling our little wheezer on Ryley’s lap when I checked in with the receptionist. Ollie put his head on Ryley’s chest until he remembered the fishies in the waiting room tanks, then he wanted nothing to do with either one of us.

He ended up having a breathing treatment, which eased his symptoms. The NP gave instructions to continue giving treatments and home and wrote a prescription for more nebulizer vials. On the way out, both boys chose lollipops and both skipped the sticker basket. Ollie fell asleep as I drove to the Target pharmacy. Ryley and I talked about summer reading for school. “Oh, I was going to chose my book from the list today, actually…” he claimed and I laughed. It’s only June. We arrived and I asked Ryley to get Ollie out of his seat.

“But he’s asleep?”

I told him that was okay. He unbuckled Ollie and pulled him free of the seat. Ollie stirred a bit, but the long night was too much and he quickly sank back to sleep with his head on Ryley’s shoulder, melting into his big brother. He knew he was completely safe. We walked to the entrance and it struck me how incredibly fortunate I was to witness one of my children carrying another so capably, with strength and tenderness and confidence. It’s not something most mothers ever see because their kids are closer in age. Being 14 years apart is out of the norm, by far. And teenagers aren’t completely thrilled when they learn a sibling is on the way. That’s kind of gross, right?

Then they fall just as crazy in love with the little ones as I have. Whenever I get a glimpse of their unique bond, I am grateful our family was built this way. The large number of years between certain kids might make it harder for them to find common ground for now, but I hope someday the memories of carrying—and being carried—stick with them. Their orbits aligned.

Once home, Ryley ate pizza and retreated to his computer to decide what book he will read. Ollie did toddler things like splashing in the dogs’ water and eating only the pineapple tidbits on his lunch plate. Most of the time it’s like that. They navigate two wildly differing worlds even though they share the same roof, the same parents, the same siblings, the same silly dogs. Little blasts of a deeper connection are savored.