"Footloose"

Some of my favorite high school memories are wrapped around being in the school musical all three years there. I didn't ever really play anything more than just ensemble roles. In fact, I don't even think I had any kind of name or even a line until "Kismet" my senior year. But I loved every bit of the process...from the summer rehearsals learning the music and then spending long after school hours on stage learning blocking and choreography, to the tech and dress rehearsals and then the actual performances themselves. Good stuff, all of it.

The high school that my girls attend has a fairly high standard of excellence when it comes to music and theatre. Lots of talented kids all vying for spots in the various plays, musicals, choirs and performances. And unlike my high school where anyone who actually auditioned at least got a part in the ensemble in the big, main school musical....at Rebekah and Julianne's high school, this was not the case. Up until this past year only juniors and seniors were even allowed to audition. Things changed up a bit this year with a new director, which made it possible for sophomores to fight for a spot in the cast...but if anything, it made competition that much more stiff.

Rebekah and Julianne both auditioned. And glory be, when the list went up both of their names were on it! I was a very proud (and relieved) mama.

"Footloose" was the chosen musical for the year. A full on 80's show which made me feel just the slightest bit old as my daughters came to me for advice on costume pieces and hairstyles. And when they were instructed to find 80's formalwear for the Prom scene finale I already had two hideously lacy dresses in my closet that I myself had worn to Junior Prom and Senior Ball when I was in high school. The girls got complimented often on their very vintage 80's dresses and got a kick out telling people where they had come from...  

"Footloose," "Let's Hear It For the Boy," "Almost Paradise,"" Holding Out For a Hero,""I'm Free"....
I tell you what, it sure was fun hearing those songs again that were so popular during my high school days.

When Bryan caught sight of Rebekah in her white lacy dress he leaned over and said, "Hey...I think that dress looks kind of familiar!" It was the dress I wore on our first date to Junior Prom. Nice to know it made a big enough impression that he remembers...

A new smile

My baby lost her first tooth on Sunday. She's been itching for a loose tooth for months now.
"When, when, when???" has been her constant mantra.
Apparently she's the very last kid in her 1st grade class to actually lose a tooth. Important stuff, losing teeth. At least when you are 6-years old.

I think she thought that as soon as the tooth became loose it would only be a matter of hours before the thing came out.
Weeks.
That's how long it took.
I had to talk her out of tying a piece of string around the tooth and attaching it to a pot that she'd then throw over the stair railing...something her older sister Rebekah suggested as something she had done when she was her age. But only because it was nowhere near that ready.

But then she started chickening out when the time came to actually yank it. Probably because she was getting conflicting advice from her parents...her dad telling her to leave it alone till it fell out on its own and her mom assuring her that just a quick yank would be all it took to get that wiggly thing out of there once and for all.

She finally agreed to the yank and out it came, easy peasy.
She ran down the street to show her new smile to friend Sophie. Sophie had just lost her first tooth five days earlier.
"Mom! It's the exact same tooth! We are TWINS!"
Later as I put her to bed with the tooth tucked securely under her pillow she said, "You know...Sophie got two dollars for her tooth. Are you going to give me that much too so we can still be twins?"

Yes, my child does not believe in the Tooth Fairy. She asked for truth and I answered. But like her siblings before her, she still wanted the tradition of it all. So under the pillow in a special tooth shaped box it went.

Funny back story: When Rebekah was in 1st grade and still had a mouthful of baby teeth, she asked if the Tooth Fairy was real or if it was just me. I hemmed and hawed and tried to side-step the question. She was having none of it and wanted the truth of it all. I told her the Tooth Fairy was me. She accepted it gracefully and went on with her day.
A couple of weeks later she came home in a tizzy. "Mom!" she said. "You were wrong...the Tooth Fairy IS real!" When I questioned her further she told me that a friend at school had lost his first tooth. The Tooth Fairy had come and left him some coins. She assumed that since she was the oldest and we hadn't ever had the experience yet, clearly I just didn't realize that the Tooth Fairy was indeed real...and out collecting baby teeth and leaving money in their place. Ignorance on my part.
I figured if she wanted to believe that much, who was I to argue?
But she's a smart kid and after losing a tooth or two, she asked again. And this time took my word for it. None of my kids have really believed since then.

Funny, isn't it...that the Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny seem completely out of the realms of believability for my children but Santa Claus is totally realistic? Granted, I've never pushed the fairy and the bunny like I do the big, jolly elf...so maybe it's on me.
With 3 teenaged siblings, I often wonder how long she'll accept Santa as real...especially if she's the only one in the household who still believes. I figure we only have a couple more years at most. She's an inquisitive child and like her sister Julianne before her, very perceptive.

And yes. I did leave her two dollars in exchange for the tooth so she could be "twins" with Sophie.
And also had a conversation with her about not ruining the Tooth Fairy magic for her friends who still believe....

Feeling green

We like St. Paddy's Day. Due I'm sure to the fact that we have Irish blood running through our veins. At least I'm assuming that's why I'm always drawn to Irish pubs to eat, movies that take place in Ireland, Irish accents, and bagpipes in parades. Go figure.

We had so much fun last year at the St. Patricks Day parade in SLC, that we decided it must become tradition. Unfortunately, this year it was rather cold. Sunny, yes. But a biting wind was whistling through the parade route at The Gateway. We had brought a blanket to sit on but instead used it to wrap around us as we huddled together for warmth. Hot chocolate at Starbucks helped too.

All in all, we had a glorious time decked out in our green and taking in the festivities. Such a fun family activity....we thoroughly enjoyed the bagpipers, the Irish hounds, the Irish dancers and the tons and tons of GREEN!

One of my favorite parade entries...these kilt wearing Star Wars storm troopers advertising the upcoming Comic Con. I laughed good and long.

Can't wait for next year!

Sometimes you just have to sit in the sun.

And no, that's not actually a metaphor for anything. Although I suppose it could be...something about living optimistically or in God's light or being your best self or, you know...something.
But really, I'm just cold this morning.
So I found this piece of sun splayed out across the carpet in my living room and I'm sitting in it. It feels good. Even if it's making a glare on the laptop screen.

I saw Les Miserables at Hale Centre Theatre last night. It packed such an emotional wallop that even this morning I tear up when I talk with anyone about it.

The movie didn't make me cry.
Frankly, the movie bugged me. (I know that's unpopular to say.)
But no....I didn't find it to be the great and mighty movie viewing experience that most of the masses did.

Oh, I liked it fine. There was a lot of good in it. Things even, that I was really impressed with and quite enjoyed. But overall, it was a let down.

Why, oh why, why, WHY did they not hire real singers? Big names with star power to bring in the audience? It was Les Mis, for heavens sake! Of course people would've come regardless of if Wolverine was in the show or not! And while I appreciate the fact that Hugh Jackman, Anne Hathaway and the like could actually hold a tune in a bucket, they did not have anywhere close to the vocal depth to pull off and do justice to those songs.
I got in a bit of a tiff with someone on-line over this. It's a movie, she said. Not a musical on the stage. Of course they're going to hire actors over singers.
To which I scratched my head and said, Ummm....huh??
The movie is 99% SINGING!
Ever hear of Broadway? Those folks can sing AND act! (And they do it all in one take, every single day of the week! A little nod there to the "impressive" feat of having the actors in the film do their songs "live" on camera rather than in multiple takes.)

So last night at Hale Centre Theatre I figured I'd get a good performance. I'd seen the cast list and knew they had some stellar talent. But being that Les Miserables is quite a demanding show...could they really pull it off in their "theatre in the round?"

Oh boy, they could and how! What I got was more than just a good performance. In my opinion, it was one of their best. Ever. And I sat there and wished mightily that all the masses that raved about the movie could see THIS show and understand what Les Mis truly can be.

Oh, it wasn't perfect, certainly. But that show, those actors with all the feeling and emotion they packed into their singing, their facial expressions, their entire performances....I felt like I understood the story more than I had ever before. I've seen the movie. I've seen the Broadway version. I've been listening to the soundtrack since high school. I know the story and its message well. Except, last night showed me that maybe I didn't. At least not as well as I thought. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I felt like I had gone beyond knowing the show to finally, really getting it.

Justice and mercy. Light and darkness. Grief and heartache. Forgiveness and love.

Maybe sitting in the sun is an appropriate metaphor after all.....

All calories are not created equal

I'm not an unhealthy person, really. I rarely eat fast food. I'm not a fan of soda...I don't even handle carbonation well, let alone the caffeine in the Diet Coke that is so very popular around these parts. I don't drink, smoke or do drugs. I exercise very somewhat regularly. I tend to cook and eat homemade prepared meals rather than freezer or microwave fare.

That being said, I do have one pretty big BUT....

I have a sweet tooth. A raging addiction to sugar. Which means that when I'm snacky, I tend to go for some kind of candy or baked goods rather than fruits and veggies. Not always. But frequently.

So when my neighbor proposed an 8-week "get healthy" challenge, I was interested. Extreme or fad diets are not for me. I have a hard time visualizing how they work out in the end. Oh sure, you'll work super hard and be super focused and intense for some predetermined amount of time, and certainly you will lose weight. But then how do you transition back into normal life after that? How do you maintain? I was more interested in finding something that would help me ease into a new, healthier lifestyle. And this plan seemed to have many of the same goals that I was already trying to make into habits...wrapped into a nice little challenge with a built in group of friends who support and/or commiserate with you. Plus, did I mention there is a monetary prize for the winner?

The plan? Daily points for things such as eating 3 veggies and 2 fruits. Cutting out sugary treats (except for 1 cheat day a week). Drinking 64 ounces of water. Exercising 5 days a week. Keeping a food journal. Quit eating by 9:00 at night. All things that we've long been told would be beneficial to our health, yes? And we even get points for each pound lost, or for simply maintaining.

We're finishing up week 4. Halfway through. I have not been keeping track of my calories...only specific foods eaten. I've never wanted to be a calorie counter. I don't know...something about it just rubs me the wrong way. Maybe I'm worried that it would be too easy for me to become obsessive about what I ate and how much I weighed. I don't want to be consumed with each and every tiny morsel that I put into my mouth. However, I have become more aware of calories in general. It's a little bit discouraging to realize just how many calories even a piece of fruit such as a banana or pear can contain. But yesterday I discovered something that made me laugh.

On our neighborhood "get healthy challenge" Facebook page, there have been recent rumblings about how many calories raw almonds contain. Now we all know that almonds have long been touted as one of the world's healthiest foods. So to hear complaints about needing to eat fewer because of the calorie count got me a little curious.

And hey, yeah. 190 calories for 1 serving...a serving being 1/4 cup. Hmmm.

Curiosity continuing to lead me on, I searched out and found a package of my favorite dark chocolate acai/blueberry candy sitting empty in my bedside table drawer.

The results from my search? See for yourself.

One serving equaling 1/4 cup of these particular chocolates at least, is 180 calories! Less calories than the almonds! Albeit only by a small margin.

Clearly all calories are not created equal. Foregoing the chocolates for the almonds is the obvious healthy choice...if you are indeed going for health over simply losing pounds. But oh, how I enjoyed that little bit of irony!

Lovers Feast

I didn't go to the local high school here in my current town. Bryan and I attended a high school in Salt Lake County. We are in a small minority due to that fact. Many of my neighbors grew up here, went off for college, missions and marriage...and then came back to settle and raise a family here...their children following in their footsteps. And I can see why. This town has a very distinct and tight community feel with all its quirks and traditions. Solid people, solid schools, solid way of life. I'm glad we are here. My children have expressed gratefulness that we are here. We plan to stay here. We're lifers.

But that being said, I am indeed a newbie. Which means that I didn't know about Lovers Feast at the high school until just last year when Rebekah had a chance to be a part of it as a "serving wench." A choral department wide fundraiser with most of the choir kids involved in some sort of way or another, truly it's the Madrigal's show. And Rebekah was chosen to be a Madrigal this year.

In it's 34th year, it's a seven-course renaissance style dinner with entertainment provided by the Madrigals...a dinner-theatre type show with audience involvement. And each year they take some sort of modern pop-culture theme and weave it into their tale. This year, a renaissance version of "Hunger Games" complete with tributes performing in the various arts (dancing, mime, cooking and paper mache) in an attempt to win the privilege of marrying whom they choose. Each of the audience members were assigned to one of four tables representing the four places the tributes were from. Rebekah was one of the two tributes from "Stuart". The rest of the Madrigals had various parts as people from the Capital. The whole thing was meant to be silly fun and not taken seriously. We laughed a lot. And there was singing, did I mention that? Lots and lots of singing.

As the dancing tribute, Rebekah had to improvise two different dances each night. Despite the fact that she hasn't had any sort of dancing lessons since she was 6 years old, she was rather graceful. Appropriate seeing as her name was "Grace."

And what would a Hunger Games theme be without a rebellion? Forks were strictly forbidden. We were not given forks to eat our meals....but somehow forks were slipped to various people throughout the evening by rebellion sympathizers. And if you were found in possession of a fork, you got hauled off to the stockade....

Julianne and Lilian were better at hiding forks....Julianne had three by the time the night was done. Brandon got caught fairly quickly and spent some time in the stockade. Grandma tried to fight off her jailers.... "Long live the rebellion!"

Soon the whole room was in full scale rebellion with people holding up three fingers (symbolizing the 3 tines of a fork) every time someone got caught. The longer the evening went, the more hyped up (and hilarious) the rebellion became.

Lilian and I attended both nights....the first with the family and Bryan's parents and then again the second night with my parents. Rebekah had asked a fellow madrigal friend to the upcoming Sadie Hawkins dance and it was on the second night that she received her answer. During the "battle" scene between "Peter" and "Dale" (Dale aka Nolan) Rebekah was handed a rolled scroll by the high steward. This was not a part of the script. And of course the whole audience was watching the big fight playing out in front of the main table so I did not notice what was going on. "Lady Grace," he apparently whispered to her, "it is of the utmost importance that you read the message that is on this scroll immediately." She opened the scroll and read, "Lady Croft. I would 'die' to go to Sadie Hawkins with you! Yes!"
According to Rebekah, she gasped and looked up....because at that very moment Nolan/ "Dale" had just been run through by Peter with a baguette (silliness, I told you) and was lying "dead" on the ground. Apparently Nolan's parents who were in on the whole thing, enjoyed watching Rebekah's shocked face. What a very clever way to answer!

Sweet Sixteen

Last year Julianne's birthday fell during a gymnastics meet weekend in Las Vegas. Because of this, Bryan and I decided to take the whole family with us as a mini vacation to celebrate...even leaving a day early so we would have some serious birthday celebration down time in Sin City. (See here.) But Julianne is a traditionalist when it comes to holidays and birthdays. And so though we took her to the huge aquarium in Mandalay Bay, saw the white tigers and dolphins (her favorite animal) at The Mirage, and had icecream at Serendipity 3 at Caesars Palace (where we even saw John Travolta), among other various activities....because we did not have wrapped gifts to open, cake with candles or a big banner and other such traditional decor, it was a fail. She enjoyed the day...but didn't really feel like it had anything to do with her birthday and therefore felt that she hadn't been properly celebrated. Sigh.

I learned my lesson this year. Julianne turned the very special age of 16. And tradition states in our household that turning 16 means rather than lots of presents or a big party, a special trip with mom and dad to a location of the birthday girl's choosing. (Remember Rebekah's trip to San Diego?) Because of various commitments that have all three of us tied up for the next couple of months, the soonest we can go is late April. And where did Julianne choose to go? The Big Apple....New York City. Her main goal, to see "Newsies" on Broadway. Truth be told, though it'll be a lot of travel time for a quick in and out trip, I'm certainly not complaining about her choice of venue!

But point being, with no traditional presents or party, and with her birthday trip still 2.5 months out, I knew I'd have to do something else to make sure that this birthday was not another repeat fail. So armed with ideas from pinterest, Rebekah and I waited (somewhat) patiently for Julianne to go to sleep the night before her big day. Unfortunately for us, she stayed up reading till midnight. But once the coast was clear, we quietly put our plans into action and tiredly went to bed around 1:00 AM.

At 6:30 AM Julianne's "Core Four" group of friends (Taylor, Lauren and Jessie) came over with breakfast. (I can take no credit for this one...they texted me the night before asking permission to surprise Julianne.) And to mine and Rebekah's balloon hallway decor, they added hearts inscribed with fun messages all over her bedroom door before going in and waking her.

After lots of hugs and "Happy Birthdays!!!" and such things, Julianne walked the three to the door, only to find on her way up the stairs the "life of Julianne" picture collage Rebekah and I had created the night before.
"Mom!" she exclaimed as she threw her hands up in the air, almost as if she wanted to hug the pictures..."You succeeded!!!"
I'd already succeeded and it was only 6:45 in the morning! Lucky me!

The doorbell rang again at 7:00. A doorbell ditch this time. And on the doorstep, a plate of cookies from Zoe, with the first of 16 notes Julianne would eventually receive throughout the next few days detailing "all reasons why you are awesome!"

What with breakfast coming from the Core Four, I thought Julianne's request to skip 1st period and have breakfast at Granny Annie's might be off. But she was still jazzed about the idea of missing 1st period, as was Rebekah...so off we went.

And it was here that the birthday texts started coming in. From her own friends, yes...but also from numbers that she didn't initially recognize. Turns out Rebekah had sent Julianne's cell phone number to all of her friends and told them to text Julianne birthday wishes. All day long Julianne's phone beeped with messages, keeping her happily busy with thank you replies.

She was in a very good mood when she got home. "Everyone is celebrating ME!" She was incredibly touched and a more than a little bit amazed by all the gifts, hugs and messages.

One friend stopped by with balloons and treats. Another stopped by with cupcakes. Gifts and treats and visitors showing up all evening long. At one point shortly after the doorbell rang, I heard Julianne shrieking with laughter. She had just opened a gift from her good friend Jordan who lives down the street. He had bought her a toaster, a loaf of bread and a stick of butter. And though it'd probably take too long to explain all the back story, I'll just say the two of them are "toast buddies" and have long since bonded over their love of toast, bringing each other pieces on various occasions....it's their "thing."

Taylor brought over a "kissing tool kit" filled with things like a new toothbrush, mints, chocolate, socks for a "foot popping kiss" (a reference to "Princess Diaries") etc. It even came with a kissing manual. Julianne has some seriously creative friends.

Bryan took Julianne out for her first date. But because of homework restrictions, they made it a quick one and just went to dinner. (Julianne was asked out three more times that week and put together her first creative "ask" to a big dance...Sadie Hawkins next month.)

When Brandon got home from gymnastics around 10:00 we had the official "Happy Birthday to you..." singing and the blowing out of the candles. She decorated the cake herself and was quite pleased with the results. Granted, she was quite pleased with the whole day so I think by 10:00 at night she was already predisposed to like anything and everything.

SUCCESS!!!

"Sisters, sisters...there were never such devoted sisters."

Sisters. Built in best friends. No matter where you live, what you do and how you change as you grow up...they will always be there and they always have your back. No matter what. 

I have four younger sisters. We are incredibly close, relationship-wise..mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Physically however, two of us live out of state. So unfortunately it is rare that all five of us are able to spend time together.

But every now and again Rachel is able to swing a trip this way from her home in Atlanta. And when she does, we drop everything so we can spend the day together. Because usually a day is all we get. Mary makes arrangements to drive in from Idaho and the five of us do some serious playing. Nothing is more important that day than sisterly bonding.

I am so incredibly fortunate to have four best friends. 

Rachel, Melissa, Mary and Katie....I can't even express how much I love them.  

40-year olds don't bounce...

I have full memory of the fall. And I did not lose consciousness. I took great comfort from those two facts while trying to determine how severe my concussion was, and during the debate with myself as to whether or not I should go to the doctor.

It was my last time around the rink. I had told Lilian that we needed to be done skating by 8:05 so we would have time to return our skates, and make it to the gym to pick up Brandon and Porter by 8:15. I was feeling fairly confident after an hour of skating. And though the ice at the South Davis Rec Center was much more smooth and well cared for than the small outdoor rink at Station Park and therefore more slippery, I felt good about my skating abilities. So it was with surprise that suddenly I found myself flailing. I'm sure I looked a comical sight as I tried frantically to right myself and hold onto my balance...arms windmilling, feet backpedaling. It was with resignation that I told myself, "You're going down" and started planning for a hard landing on my backside. If only it was my backside that got the brunt of it...

I wish I could watch video of my fall. It would help me understand better my injuries. Nevertheless, one thing became obviously clear...I hit the back of my head extremely hard. Scant seconds passed between me hitting the ice and sitting back up again. But when I did, I realized I would've been better staying down. My world was spinning, my head was throbbing and stinging simultaneously, and waves of nausea were rolling over me. I bent over and put my hands on the ice and lowered my head down to combat the dizziness. I lifted my hand to the back of my head where the stinging pain was taking place and found an enormous lump that filled the whole palm of my hand. The fact that it hadn't split and left me bleeding everywhere was something that I'm thankful for.

Immediately I had people circling me, kneeling down beside me, asking if I needed help. For some reason my pride kicked in and I was embarrassed but at least had enough sense to realize I was in no shape to be standing quite yet. A rink employee came over and checked my eyes, asked if I wanted to fill out an accident report. No, I told him. I would be fine. I just needed to find my daughter. I was equal parts annoyed and secretly relieved that she had continued skating after my fall. It gave me more time down on the floor scanning the rink for her and calling her over before having to attempt standing. But the time to stand quickly came and I was a little humiliated when two guys took my arms, lifted me to my feet and started escorting me off the ice. The humiliation quickly evaporated into a sense of thanks when I realized that I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own, my balance precarious as it was due to the dizziness and my traumatized and trembling body. They led me to the benches near the skate rental desk where I assured them that I was fine (ha!) and they went their separate ways. At this point Lilian was chewing off my ear with her protests. She wanted a few more rounds of the rink. And it was with barely controlled emotion that I explained that "Mommy was hurt really bad and we needed to leave." I guided her hand to the lump on my head and that seemed to kick in her compassionate side. She stopped complaining and let me quickly, but with shaking fingers, untie her laces, return her skates and put on her real shoes. She took my hand and willingly guided me through the parking lot to our truck.

I called Bryan immediately. And at the sound of his voice, any sort of control I had on my emotions fled and I cried and cried as I explained the situation to him and asked about concussion symptoms. Foremost in his mind was ascertaining if I was safe to be driving. I assured him that my dizziness had abated and that I seemed to be okay in that regard. All I wanted to do was to get home and get some ice on my head...detouring to the gym to pick up Brandon and Porter was not ideal, certainly. But what else could we do? It was my day to drive carpool and I was only a few blocks away. Bryan told me to get some ice at the gym.

But the gym was hopping. A birthday celebration was going on for one of the older boys so the entire team was milling around eating pizza and donuts. I tried to discreetly ask Coach Adam what he knew about concussions...my way of then enlisting his aid in tracking down some ice. But I was then horrified to find myself with overactive tear ducts once again...which then gained the attention of Coach Gabe and some of the boys and other parents. So I stood up, made some comment about hitting my head..."it doesn't even hurt that bad so I don't know why I'm crying...I must just still be in shock or something" and walked over to get some water out of the drinking fountain, deciding not to bother with the ice. Brandon found me there. "Mom," he whispered. "Are you okay?" Bless my considerate little guy who was not embarrassed about his mom losing it in front of his team but instead was concerned that something must be seriously wrong. I quickly told him about my fall and let him feel the back of my head. I told him that I was going to go out to the truck and to please grab his pizza and donut, find Porter and Lilian (who by this time was running around the gym) and come out quickly because I really, really needed to get home.

Brandon did as I asked and we got Porter and then ourselves home as quickly as we could. Bryan had an icepack ready and waiting for me when I walked in the door. He examined my head and then sat me down with the icepack and let me explain in more detail of what happened and how I was feeling....all through my never ending, frustrated tears. But Bryan was already up later than he should've been, specifically waiting to check on me. He had to be awake by 4:30 AM the next morning. So, settled on the couch with a blanket and icepack, ibuprofen starting to kick in for the pain, I sent him to bed and proceeded to wait up for Rebekah who said she would come home at 10:00 rather than her normal 11:30-ish curfew.

I was so thankful to drop into bed...but then had a truly awful night's sleep. I ached all over. My head hurt. I had a hard time finding a comfortable position because even the soft pillow hurt the back of my head. The dizziness and nausea came back full force. And when Bryan got up at 4:30 to get ready to work his 5:00-11:00 AM shift at the temple, I was awake. I asked him to please put my name on the temple prayer roll and he kissed the top of my head as he left.

The next day I had floods of messages come in through Facebook and text. Friends checking in on me, asking if there was anything I needed....and begging me to go to the doctor. There was nothing a doctor could do for a concussion, other than to order a CT scan or an MRI to rule out a subdural hematoma. From all my reading, a hematoma is rare....but if you do have one, it will likely kill you if a doctor hasn't found it first. But I didn't want to go. And by mid-morning my dizziness and nausea had mostly gone away. I hadn't lost consciousness or any memory during the initial fall. I felt like my concussion was likely minor. And so to the frustration of my friends who thought I was taking an unnecessary risk, I decided against a doctor visit.

For the next few days I ached and hurt. My neck and jaw were very sore, likely whiplash. My head pounded and though the lump had gone down, it still was painfully sore at the site. I found bruises on my derriere and the palm of my hand. I stayed on a cocktail of tylenol and ibuprofen, neither one of them being strong enough on their own. I found myself forgetting words while conversing with people. But wasn't sure if that was due to the concussion or just a brain funk. (One nice thing about a concussion...any senior moments, blonde moments or just plain stupidity you can blame on the conk on the head.) But each day got a little better. Today marks a week from my fall. My neck is a little tight when I turn it side to side but it doesn't hurt, neither does my jaw. The dizziness and nausea never did come back after that first night. I haven't had to rely on painkillers for the past couple of days. My head is still quite sore to the touch and there is still a little bump. Rebekah took a closer look yesterday afternoon and claims that there is scabbing there so maybe I did break open the skin when I fell...just not enough to bleed. Because it is so sore up there, I still have to be careful when trying to find a comfortable position while sleeping. I'm more tired and I've also put myself on a hiatus from my yoga classes. But I do seem to be on the mend. I haven't dropped dead from a hematoma yet so that's always a good sign. haha.

I think I'm in for a healthy dose of PTSD when faced with iceskating in the future. Just walking down my icy north-facing driveway makes me super nervous. But I'm lucky. It could've been a lot worse. And as a friend mentioned when she saw the picture of Lilian and me....if I had to fall, at least I looked good while doing it. So I take comfort in that...  ;)