Perseverance

Remember how I wrote about my frustrating attempts to re-teach myself embroidery? After my initial frustrating day of tears and ripped out stitching, I walked away from the project altogether.

When venting on Facebook, a friend suggested that I might try cross stitch.  "You can't go wrong with little x's," she wrote.  After a week or two of contemplation, I ordered a kit to cross stitch a baby blanket (to make for my soon-to-be niece). Again, time passed with frustration and more ripped out stitches. I was ready to give up again, thinking that maybe needle work just wasn't for me.

But then a friend of mine brought her daughter over for a play date. Out of the blue, I asked her if she knew how to cross stitch. She did! She sat down and explained the best way to work a pattern, and demonstrated the stitching. 

I felt more confident than ever.  She had made it look so easy! I worked and worked, but still, I just couldn't get it right.  But, I kept trying.  Kept starting over.

A little voice in my head reminded me of her simple statement, "Just think of them as little boxes."

Several attempts later, it dawned on me.  I completed a row, and then a second, and then another.  With each stitch, I felt more encouraged and more satisfaction.  

Here's where I am one week later:

I haven't added any detail yet, so it still looks a little bare.  And, it's certainly not perfect.  The images in each block don't line up correctly, but heck if I'm going back and tearing out all that work.  I'm fixing the problem on the next block, and learning as I go.  This is the first time I've laid it out to critique.  I'm improving, if I do say so myself.

I'm stitching every single "x" with love and anticipation for the arrival of our niece.

I was hoping to have it finished in time for Maggie's shower, but according to my calculations, that likely won't happen.  I have 25 more blocks to go, plus the detail. 

With any luck, I'll have it complete by the time my niece is in kindergarten.  Or maybe high school?

2 Kool 4 Skool

Note:  I've edited this about thirty times, so please, keep in mind that if you find any grammatical or spelling mistakes, well, it is what it is -nothing new.  I should put this disclaimer on every post.  :)

You're probably tired of reading about my back-to-school ventures, but since today was the first day of class, I couldn't resist just one more post on the subject (at least for a while).

I have been so excited for this new chapter in my life. 

Until yesterday.

I was quietly reading the Sunday paper, when out of the blue, cold fear washed over me.  I ended up in a doozie of a panic, moaning,  "What am I thinking?"  Since my Mom isn't around for me to whine at, I did the next best thing; I called my Grandma. 

As soon as I heard her voice, I promptly burst into tears.  I gave her my best "oh-poor me-I'll never get this-how will I manage-my family will suffer-I will be the biggest, oldest dork in class-and I'll fail miserably" speech.  She gently but firmly reminded me that I'm already a step ahead of the college game and pointed out the advantages that I have over so many others.  "One day at a time", she advised.  "When you've kayaked too far and think you can't make it back home, just remember, one paddle at a time.  You'll get there." "Savor each day and when you have bad days (and you will), focus on the end result and what you want out of this".  Such sound advice - I wish I could bottle it. 

After my talk with Grandma, I felt much better.  But then, those ominous hours of dark rolled around, and I found myself sleepless; so much so that I was awake most of the night imagining worst-case scenarios while I attempted to persuade my brain to take a break and rest.

I wrestled with sleep all night.  Craig didn't have to wake me up this morning because I was already on the couch, scaring myself silly.  When he came out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed, at 6:30 a.m. and said, "It's time to get ready for school.", I wanted to reply, " No s***, Sherlock,  I've been been up all night scared out of my mind." But that wouldn't have been nice, so I bit my tongue and wearily headed for the shower.

By the time we were ready to leave the house, I thought I was going to throw up. I was shaking and my legs felt like rubber.  I was early for my 8:30 a.m. class, so I sat in Craig's office trembling, attempting to drink coffee without spilling it.  I reminded myself how ridiculous it was to be so scared, but sometimes anxiety isn't a reasonable force to reckon with.  Craig must have noticed the fear on my face, because he offered to walk me to class (I know, how sweet is that?).  On the way over, he reassured me that I would be just fine and that he would help me in as many ways that he could.  The guy has big shoulders (I have an amazing support system).  Good thing he has a degree in math and is brilliant (although, him tutoring me has the potential to cause serious marriage trouble).  As I write this, he's reading my math book with more enthusiasm than a raccoon raiding a cooler.   

I arrived at my first class and waited in the hallway because there were already students in the classroom. A lady at the front of the room was talking to students that were seated, so I assumed that the class prior to mine wasn't finished.  I soon discovered that she, too, was an O.T.A. (older than average) and just as scared as I.  I think I'll make her my new best friend.

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, despite that I had a math (sigh) quiz on the first day.  It should have gone something like this:
a:  Marie is not the oldest person in her math class.
b:  Marie is definitely the oldest person in her other three classes.
c:  Who cares?
d:  Marie needs to buy stock in erasers.
d:  None of the above.
e:  All of the above.

Answer:  E
Write this down - there will be a test. 
-MM
P.S.  Murray has been saying things like, "when I get 31, can I come to your college?"  And, "Mom, I'm off to school to do my homework!" (while running around with my backpack)  I hope this is an encouraging sign for the future.

Progress

Craig attended his first physical therapy appointment this morning and came home with a list of stretches to do twice daily.  The plan is to stretch the muscles around the broken vertebrae, and then next week, begin strengthening (hopefully) those muscles.  The next CT Scan is scheduled for February 9, at which time we hope to be done with doctors and therapists and get back to normal.  He is allowed to take his brace off for one hour/day, increasing time every other day.  Slow and steady wins the race.

There are some positive outcomes (as with anything negative that happens) to Craig's injury.  Since Craig broke his back, I've learned how to jump-start a car (Peace Garden Mama and I accomplished this as a team, more to come on that story), I'm navigating the icy roads like a pro, today I ran the snow blower, and tonight I have to fill in as fry cook helping the Sons of the American Legion.  I like this feeling of independence.  I'm ready for more!