I Broke My Wrist

I broke my wrist/arm. Not even a good story, unless you consider clumsiness a good story. Thankfully I was at my parents when it happened because the next day my oldest son was vomiting. And the day after that was my youngest.

It’s amazing how challenging life is when you take using two hands for granted and then find yourself with only one…not even your dominant hand either.

I’m two weeks in with 4+ weeks to go. I’m sporting a pink cast and trying to sport a smile. I’m finding myself exhausted through the day. I don’t know if that is normal for breaks, to experience fatigue, or if it comes of the extra challenge of doing everything. Chloe and John have been so helpful. In fact, I almost would say essential since I can’t carry things up or downstairs nor can I buckle Isaac’s car seat one-handed.

My husband has been an incredible help and blessing. He faithfully tries to drown me washes my hair every couple of days, cooks, and gives me treats!

I’ve had a number of things I had planned to bake for this month – a friend’s lunch, a friend had a baby and I wanted to make a meal, a bridal shower, a new neighbor – and it’s hard because despite what Weight Watcher’s tells me, Food is Love; it’s a way to serve. But life doesn’t always go just how we want. I bought the new mama frozen pizza, store-made brownies and a fruit tray and gave it with love. Because that’s where I’m at.

It’s terrible to not use my arm. Annoying and terrible.

But it makes me thankful for my children’s helpfulness, thankful for this time to slow down, thankful for pajamas and thankful that I {Lord-willing} will have full use of my arm again.