I know this is cheesy, but today I light a virtual candle in memory of my healthy knee.  One year ago today was my fateful fall where I tore my ACL, MCL and meniscus.  I think back on that time, remembering how trying it was having my mobility taken away from me, and what a long road the recovery has been, and continues to be.

Overall, I am thankful.  I am thankful I had great health insurance.  I am thankful that I have one year of recovery behind me, and hopeful that I won’t have to endure something like that again.

We have finally received snow here.  While my husband is up enjoying the fresh powder, I am patiently resisting the urge to ski, knowing my knee just isn’t ready for powder yet.  In the meantime, I’m happy to be mobile, able to keep up with my kids, able to participate in outings and family dance night, and able to work up a good sweat at the gym.

Having a significant injury changes you.  Hopefully in this past year, my children have witnessed bravery in the face of challenges, and I am a better person for the challenges that I have overcome.

Sh!t. Was my first thought.

Reno hasn’t had any significant preciptation for several months.  We had a horrible fire two months ago when a storm was blowing in and we had high winds.

Yesterday, the fates aligned again with a storm blowing in, high winds, and a fire.

I came back to my office to look up online where the fire was, and it was in Washoe Valley, just south of where we live.  I wasn’t too worried until I got an update a few hours later saying that Callahan, a neighborhood one road up the hill from us, was being evacuated.

I decided to go work from home at 3pm, as I wanted to be close to the kids if our neighborhood was evacuated.  Turns out that was a very smart move.

At about 4:30, I decided perhaps I should once again (as I did two months ago when the last fire hit) gather up some of our important paperwork.  I went up to the office, and happened to look out the front window.  I saw two of my neighbors gathered talking to a stranger.  It didn’t take me long to figure out they were talking to a firefighter.

I ran down the stairs and out of my house to find my next door neighbor, who does after care for my daughter was packing up and about to drive away.  I quickly got my daughter from them, and as I was walking to get my son, the firefighter came up to me and said the area was being evacuated.

She looked into our garage and asked if we were taking our dog with us.  I said we were (mentally anguishing the stress on our 16 year old lab), and she tied a blue ribbon on our door, marking that we were evacuating.

That was when it started to feel REAL.  About that time, I turned and saw the flames coming down the hill towards our neighborhood.

People often talk about what they would take in the event of a fire, and I can just say after packing up one suitcase for all 3 of us, our 90 pound dog and a pack and play, there really wasn’t much room in the car for anything big.

I grabbed an empty box and filled it with photo albums, baby books, birth certificates and passports.  I brought one change of clothes for each person, and the favorite loveys for each kid.  I threw it all in the car, and started to back out of the driveway.

There were so many people evacuating at the same time that I had to wait a few minutes before I could back out of our driveway, and then the main street in/out of our neighborhood was jam packed with people evacuating and emergency responders and news crews driving in.

As I drove down the foothill, there were flames approaching our neighborhood from two directions.  As much as I didn’t want to freak the kids out, I couldn’t help but saying, “Oh, my God…   Oh, my God…”

I drove straight to my brother’s house, and this is what the hill by my house looked like from his neighborhood.

We turned on the news at my brother’s house, and the news announced that flames had reached the high school by our house.  That high school is really CLOSE to our house.  We walk there all the time.  About this time was when I realized I was shaking.

My phone was ringing and buzzing with texts as people offered me places to stay.  The one person I wasn’t hearing from was my husband, who had left his cell phone at home, and whose car wasn’t at his office when I drove by on my way to my brother’s house.

The kids and I ate dinner there, and I kept calling his office, only to get his voicemail.  I knew in my gut that he was OK, but couldn’t imagine why on earth he hadn’t tried to get ahold of me.

I finally got a call at 7pm (two hours after being evacuated) from a strange cell phone.  He had been in South Lake Tahoe (in a snow storm) all day, and didn’t realize there was a massive fire until he drove into Carson City.  He stopped at a fast food restaurant and asked the cashier if he could use their phone to call me.

The road in between Carson City and Reno was shut down, so he had to seek refuge at a friends’ house in that area.  I ended up going to my friend Annie’s house, as she had enough bedrooms to accommodate the kids and I, as well as our poor old dog Shadow.

I was rather afraid all this excitement might be too much for old Shadow, but he hung in there through two changes in venue last night.

I didn’t sleep much.  By the time I went to bed, I was pretty sure our house would be OK, but it was still disconcerting.  This morning, our area was considered still evacuated, but I called a neighbor to find out that they were home and people were returning to there houses throughout the neighborhood.

No homes in our neighborhood burned, but over 20 did in the neighboring valley.  Reno has been struck by so many tragedies in the last year.  Can we just get some significant preciptation and a bit of a break, starting NOW?

Everything started normal.  I woke up to the sound of the kids chattering happily in the living room.  I go out to see them, exchange hugs, get Little Man dressed and oversee Little Miss getting dressed.  I then ask them what they want for breakfast, and pour out the cereal and milk that they selected.

That’s when things started to go downhill.

“I want MORE milk,”  Little Man whined.  He does this practically every morning, wanting more of something he hasn’t yet started to eat, and I know darn well he will likely not eat more than I originally give him.

“Eat what I gave you, and then I’ll give you more,” I responded.

That launched him into a tantrum.

Right about that time, Little Miss was asking me questions and I was mindlessly trying to answer them while starting to get lunches ready.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” she yelled at me.

I honestly didn’t know.  I was on auto-pilot, not yet completely awake, and my whole mind was fogged by the tantrum raging a few feet away from me.

I told her I couldn’t remember what I said, and she kept demanding me to tell her what THAT WORD meant.

“What word?”  I ask.

“That one that I didn’t know.”

“I don’t know which word you’re referencing,” I respond.

That launched her into a fit.

About this point, I picked up Little Man, took him to the rocker, and tried to console him.  That’s when he flailed and knocked his head on my lip really hard, and well, that is when this tired Mom lost her patience.

I put him down, went to my room, and shut the door, intending to get ready for work in peace.

Of course, they followed me.  Two crying, wailing kids following me and grating on my last nerve.

“YOU DEAL WITH THEM,” I told my husband angrily, who was still mocking sleep in bed.  He chose to ignore the whole situation, and it just continued to spiral from there.

I feel horrible, but I’m human.  There is only so much I can handle in the wee hours of the morning while I’m trying to get kids up and ready, and under the pressure of preparing for my own workday.

It has pretty much tainted my entire day.  Days like these, I want to just go back to bed and curl up under the covers, hiding from the world.  But, here I am at work, putting on a brave face, and hoping that things go smoothly when we all return home this evening.

Please tell me I’m not the only one with Bad Mom experiences such as this.

But ski outings with a two year old aren’t easy.  This is how it has gone the past four outings:

1.  We suggest skiing, and he gets all excited, saying, “I want to ski!”  He is happy the entire ride to the ski area.

2.  We get there, and once we get the jacket, helmet, goggles and gloves on him, he melts down.  This is about the time I send JB to the slopes with Little Miss, and I get to deal with the screaming toddler.

3.  I’ve learned we head to the lodge at this point, where he writhes around on the ground and cries for at least a half an hour.  This last week, he collapsed just feet outside the entrance to the lodge.  A man walking by with his two kids starts saying, “Man down, Man down!”

People in ski lodges think a kid throwing a tantrum in ski gear is REALLY funny.  I am pretty much over it.  I tend to grab a camera, take a few pics for future blackmail purposes, and then I sit down about 10 feet away from him until he snaps out of it.

Right after this picture was taken, I ran into my former boss.  It is a bit embarrassing to have your kid losing his s*#t on the floor.

This past weekend, after 30 minutes of flailing, Little Man came up to me and said, “I want to go see the dragons.”

Dragons?  I’ll roll with it.  “Let’s go, then,” I said.  “You need a helmet to protect you from the dragons, and the goggles will keep the fire off of your eyes.”

So then, we head to the chairlift looking for the dragons.  Whatever works, I’ll do it.

Of course the snow conditions here have been hideous — all man made at this point.  They’ve been making snow during the day, and I’m pretty sure he thinks the snow guns are the dragons.

4.  After he snaps out of his tantrum, things are fine.  He likes to ride the chairlift, and makes hilarious noises we’ve dubbed his ski noises, which usually include squeaks and squawks.  He’s a little trooper after he gets over his initial issues.

Last night, he told us that he wanted to take his basketball skiing, but that he’d hold on to it really tight so that the dragons wouldn’t get it.

JB said he’s going to take Little Man skiing on Sunday while I’m in Disneyland with our daughter.  I’m curious to see if he’ll pull this stuff with Daddy, and if he does, what Daddy’s reaction will be to a half hour tantrum.

I’ve been trying to bait her for this experience.

“If there was one place in the world you’d like to go, where would it be?” I asked.

“Albuquerque to see Grandma.”

OK, well that is a good answer, and I’m not going to debate that.

I’ve also told her that she’s not having a big party this year because she is getting a SUPER HUGE PRESENT.

It’s just going to be us two traveling.  JB isn’t interested in Disneyland, and I don’t want to take a 2 year old there…  It would be so much harder to deal with nap times and tantrums, and height limits with only one adult to manage the two kids.  Little Miss is tall enough for almost all of the rides, and we’re going to hit the big kid rides one after another.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to tell her about an hour before we need to leave the house.  That way, I announce it, we pack her bags, and zoom, off to the airport!  I’ll definitely videotape the reveal, as I had no idea, but there are countless videos on YouTube of parents surprising their kids with Disney trips.  Who knew?!

I went to DisneyWorld for my college Spring Break when I was a senior.  I remember saying after that trip that I didn’t see many happy kids there, and that I didn’t plan to take my kids to Disney resorts.

But now that I’m a Mom, and I know how much this would blow her mind, and I am pretty sure (fingers crossed) that she is mature enough to handle 2 days at DisneyLand without a meltdown, I’ve changed my mind.  For Little Man’s sake, let’s hope this goes well, and that I don’t swear off future trips to the happiest place on earth.

We went up to Mt. Rose three times over the holiday break to get the kids skiing.  The first two times, I simply helped shuttle kids and equipment to JB, who was working patiently with both of them.

Mt. Rose where where I injured myself, and from where I stood, I could see the scene of the accident, where I fell within sight of the lodge and the lower mountain, and had to ride a snowmobile down to the ski patrol.

Yesterday, I finally got up the courage to try skiing again.  The doctor told me I could ski 9 months after surgery, and to start slow.

Eleven months, three weeks after my initial injury, and nine months, two days after my surgery, I made my return to skis.  I did three beginner runs, and got to ski with the hubby and both of my kids.

I still have a lot of work to do to get back to “normal”, if that will be possible, but the first major hurdle in conquering my fears has been cleared.

My daughter’s top tooth came out last night, and I immediately filmed her singing this song. Merry Christmas!

Madelynn’s top tooth came out last night, and I immediately filmed her singing this song. Merry Christmas!

Before heading to the first class, I thought I was doing really well with my recovery.  I thought I was ready to ski — after all, the doctor said I could ski 9 months after surgery, and I was walking up to 6 miles a day, and even starting to run.

The first night of class, we did an assessment, which included measuring how far we could jump with both legs, and then single leg jumps.  The results were eye-opening.  My left leg could hardly jump at all, and jumping was very initimidating for me.  I left class that night, and melted into tears in the car, feeling frustrated that I still had a long ways to go, and a lot of work ahead of me.

I don’t think I realized how much work this would be after I completed the initial physical therapy.  But thanks to this class, I got direction on how to start pushing my knee and strenghtening it through a lot of different balance exercises.  The physical therapist teaching the class told me two things:

1.  I am NOT ready to ski.  I have a lot of work to do before I should even try, or else I risk injuring myself again.  In fact, she told me I am NOT ready to run.  I’m favoring my left knee so much that I could do more harm than good by running.

2.  I need to work my left leg every day. She told me to go to the gym daily and do only left leg exercises.  I must look like a dork, but that is exactly what I’m doing.  I guess I look no more dorky than I did getting into the gym on crutches and using the arm bike.

Last night was the last night of our class, and I have made a ton of progress.  So much that the PT leading the class hugged me after measuring my gains.  The goal of the class was to “close the gap” of the performance of my injured leg compared to my good leg.  The gap is definitly smaller, but there is still a significant gap to close.

I think reading all the knee injury forums of people with ACL repairs gave me the idea that it was more of a time constraint to recovery than actual strength and agility exercises daily.  I think I’m now realizing that my injury, with MCL, meniscus and ACL damage was more severe than the typical ACL tear, and hence, it is going to take longer to get back to normal.

Part of me wonders if I ever will get back to normal.  I’m determined.  I work it every day.  But the idea of skiing like I used to ski scares me to death right now.  It is sad, but I am at least thankful that I have so much of the recovery behind me.  I’m thankful that I can actually break a good sweat and work aggressively at the gym (as it wasn’t so long ago when I was relegated to the arm bike with senior citizens picking up on me).

I’m looking forward to 2012.  2011 was hard for me.  So hard.  I had some significant blows this year.  Granted, there was a lot of good (just look at my two adorable children to see how much GOOD there is in my life), but truly, 2011 can suck it and go down in the history books.

But this year, I started seeing fun ideas online, and I have really stepped up the mischief that our elf pulls. Here are a few shots of the hilarity, including painting the bathroom mirror, and the kids noses, and then being found with a paintbrush, hanging underwear and diapers on the tree, fishing for Goldfish crackers in the toilet, and drawing funny faces on a family portrait. Our elf even brought them Christmas pjs to wear on our Polar Express train ride.

One Sunday, I overheard Little Miss begging Bethaniel to play hide and go seek with her.  I told her that perhaps if she went to count in her room while he hid, he would play, as he didn’t want her to see him move.  I kept that girl busy for well over an hour playing hide and seek with her elf.  It was hard to keep a straight face, but she was really good at finding all of the funny places I hid that doll.

Wondering what I can do that will top all of this…  I’ll be using sites like this for ideas.  Bwahahahahaha…..

I finally caught my breath around Wednesday evening, so I set up the tree with the kids after dinner.  I got the box of ornaments out, and Little Miss immediately opened it, and within a split second, Little Man had grabbed two ornaments and broke them (one being a glass ornament we got on our honeymoon in Venice).

As I was getting our fake tree out of the shed, I stumbled upon our Elf on the Shelf, which Little Miss named Bethaniel when she was two.  I decided he would make a magical appearance as we set up the tree, but also needed to sneak him into the house without the kids seeing him.

So I shoved the elf down my pants, and lugged the Christmas tree into the house.

I had that darn elf down my pants for at least 10 minutes until the kids were out of sight for me to place him in the house.

Almost as if on cue, Little Miss asks me, “when is Bethaniel going to come?”

Totally winging it, I said, “well, have you done the magical dance to ask him to come?”

“No.”

I told her to turn in a circle three times, while chanting, “Bethaniel come play, Bethaniel come play, Bethaniel come to our house today!”

She then found Bethaniel in his new spot, and was thrilled by the magic of it all.

I was pretty smug about how magical I was until the next morning, when Little Miss woke up her brother at 6am to look for that darn elf.

Last night I put the elf in her room after she was asleep.  She woke me up at 3am because she had a nightmare.  (Side note:  she keeps having nightmares about Miss Trunchbull from the Roald Dahl book Mathilda.  Perhaps that wasn’t a great book to read to her in hindsight…)  I go upstairs with her, find her light on, and she says, “do you like my room?  I cleaned it because Bethaniel was watching.”

Yes, she was cleaning her room at 3am.

Anyway, I’m rather tired today from her late night escapades, but it is fun making Christmas magical for my kiddos.

And with that, the flu had entered our house.

I worked from home with her Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, which meant the poor little sick girl ended up watching movies in the morning and taking a nap in the afternoons while I participated in conference calls in my pjs. (What, a nap for an almost 6 year old, you ask?! I made up the rule for her that if she is too sick to go to school, she must take a nap. I think it aids in healing, and it also helps this Mom get some work done while she sleeps!)

Wednesday night, I picked up Little Man from daycare, noticed he had a fever, and he puked on me shortly after we got home. He puked on me four times in the last week. I am SO over being puked on. I swear, that is one of the grossest trials of motherhood.

Thursday morning, I woke up realizing that the flu had taken me as a victim as well, and then JB got up and announced he was sick, too. I was too sick to work. We all four wallowed in our misery together all day Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. JB and I were sick enough that at a few points, we slept during the day while the children played in the family room and we hoped for the best. Nothing went horribly wrong, but at one point, I did catch them trying to stand on the kitchen table “because they thought that would be fun.”

Or in other words, my daughter thought it would be fun, and convinced her brother it would be as well.

Two members of the family are on antibiotics, and all of us are finally on the mend. We all lost weight, and we all slept A LOT. I have to say that one of the toughest parts of motherhood that I have experienced is being so sick myself, but still expected to nurture two little ones that are sick as well. I felt like I was pulled in too many directions last week — my body giving out on me, my kids needing me, and deadlines slipping at work.

I’m just glad it’s over. Sorry for the lapse in posting, but now you understand the reason!

Two weeks ago, I was hanging out with a friend who has a daughter the same age, and she let me in on a magical training technique.

“Put her on a steep driveway, have her put her feet out to the side, and tell her to wiggle her bottom to balance the bike.” Then, you just have her ride towards you and you catch her.

Well, this was something even a Gimpy Momma could do! I could catch her! We started on a Saturday, and by Sunday, she was riding on her own.

I also used some positive visualization techniques I learned at a seminar a few years ago. The speaker had said that your brain will do what you concentrate on, so concentrate on what you want to do, NOT what you don’t want to do.

I used this with my daughter, looking her in the eyes, and saying, “you can do this. You’re a biker.”

I’d then have her repeat to me what she was going to concentrate on, “pedal, pedal, pedal, then push back to brake and put my feet down.”

It worked! It worked so well! It was exhilerating being the one to teacher her. It was as exciting as her first steps! Being a parent is truly a wonderful experience. I came back to work that Monday thinking that teaching her to ride her bike felt just as much of an accomplishment as my graduate degree or getting a promotion at work.

Riding without training wheels!

When I showed up, the kids were working on projects in small groups. The teacher said I could help Little Miss’ group, so I sat down with her and four other children. It didn’t take me long to feel the tension coming from a girl that my daughter talks about daily (very admiring, I must add). We’ll call her Susie.

“Little Miss won’t do as she is told,” Susie complained. She then said that they were supposed to have one child be the teacher and the other should be the student. But I noticed that the boys were not approaching the task that way. They were working together just fine as peers.

There was several minutes of back and forth, where Susie kept trying to direct my daughter, and my daughter kept doing her own thing. And then, my daughter said very matter of factly, “you are not the boss of me.”

It wasn’t confrontational. It was strong. It was empowered. My heart swelled with pride.

Susie melted into tears. I’m sure it looked to the teacher like I made the girl cry. I did my best not to crack a smile, but to try to redirect Susie, but she was ANGRY. She kept focusing on how my daughter was “being mean to her”. Susie finally got pulled aside by the teacher and had to move her clip down (how the kids are rated on their behavior in class each day). Moving your clip down means you get a note from the teacher to send home to your parent.

Susie was even angrier after this, saying my daughter got her in trouble.

This is the girl my daughter has raved about daily, saying she plays with her all the time. I’m thinking Susie is trouble, but am not sure I can or should intervene.

The rest of the volunteering went well, and I even got to escort the class to lunch (ironically during National School Lunch week). After watching Jamie Oliver for two seasons, I was curious to see the situtation of our school’s lunch. It wasn’t horrible, but I would clasify it as lacking. Some of the covered stuff that just get heated up looked like quite a mystery to me, and the lettuce was all iceburg.

But what I found really appalling was looking at what all of the kids had in their packed lunch. SO much processed food. Little Debbies, chips, white bread, Capri Suns… I’m starting to think I am much more anal about healthy food than your normal parent.

But thankfully, my daughter still likes the healthy food I pack for her, although she leaps at the opportunity for junk food when she is at someone else’s house.

Oh, well. I’ll do my best and hope she’ll end up making wise choices.

I mentioned this factoid to JB yesterday, and he laughed, saying I have more random anniversaries in my head.

But this one is important to me. It was a huge turning point in my life. If I hadn’t made the decision, I wouldn’t have met my husband, and I wouldn’t have my two wonderful kiddos.

I flew to Reno first class, with my cat Murray in a cat carrier under the seat. I arrived when it was dark, so the next morning, I ventured out to the grocery store, and I remember standing in the parking lot of Wal Mart, turning in circles, thinking I am SURROUNDED by mountains! After four years of living in the midwest, I longed to be near the mountains again.

10 years later, I still absolutely love Reno. I love the small town feel of the community, I love the weather, I love the mountains, I love being by Lake Tahoe and all kinds of ski resorts… This place is amazing. The funny thing is that often people that don’t live in Reno assume it’s just a cheesy little gaming town in the ugly brown desert. To me, it is an unknown gem, and I am happy to keep it that way.

So Happy Anniversary to Me and Reno. I love this place.