Not the Week I Planned

On Monday morning the boys and I dropped Erik off at the airport for his flight to the National Sales Meeting in Las Vegas. I was ready for a busy week of packing Luke to fly to San Diego with Grandma and Grandpa on Wednesday, while also preparing Paul and I to fly there on Friday. Directly from the airport, we drove to meet a friend at a park. While at the park I made the mistake of lifting Paul down from the play structure and twisting my body at the same time. My back said, "Silly Amy." And then it stopped working and started emanating pain instead. I knew instantly that my week was not going to be what I had planned. Becky, my friend and the woman to whom I owe my life, managed to get me and the kids to the car. She followed us home and facilitated lunch and nap. I started popping ibuprofen like candy while alternating between ice and heat on my back. And I started making phone calls. I had somebody recently tell me how much they admired my ability to ask for help. It's actually something that I really struggle with, so it was sweet to hear that God has grown me in this area.
The week has been filled with helping hands. My neighbor Taryn came and helped facilitate dinner. Another neighbor, Jodi has helped put the boys to bed twice now. Liza came from the north and cleaned my kitchen. Lynne, my fabulous mother-in-love, came and did laundry and packed Luke's bag. Yet another neighbor, Mary, came Tuesday to watch the boys so that I could go to my last Life Group meeting across the street. (Have I mentioned that I love our neighborhood?) Julie, a BSF buddy, has spent afternoons with Paul so that I can get some much needed, drug-induced sleep. God has provided through the hands and feet and strong backs of my friends and neighbors.
I was able to get to the doctor Tuesday morning. The report is irritated ligaments in my back. The prescriptions were for an anti-inflammatory (Super Advil) and a muscle relaxant (happy drug). He also gave me some exercises that will help and told me if things aren't 100% in two weeks I should probably get some physical therapy.
The grandparents and Luke have made it safely to Southern California. Paul has spent two mornings touching every single toy normally horded by his big brother. Trains. Matchbox cars. Crayons. I don't think Paul misses Luke yet.
Here are some pictures taken last week, primarily for Oma, who is still far away.

Luke in Daddy's shoes.

Happy Paul in the playroom.

Luke at the park.

Paul at the park minutes before Mommy hurt her back.

Breakfast at the little table this morning. It's amazing the creative solutions one devises when lifting the toddler is no longer an option. My favorite so far has been the step stool in his crib to help him climb out. That was Oma's idea. It worked beautifully!