How to relax - if you can

I generally find it difficult to make myself just relax and enjoy the quiet.  I mean, I am one of those people who is not happy unless I am doing something.  Put it down to the old saying that idle hands are the devil's plaything.  This weekend, I found myself forced to be still and relax.   Having surgery kind of makes you do that.

Friday morning, I had what I like to call "a minor major" surgery.  Major in the fact that I was put to sleep and my belly was cut, but minor in the fact that it was laproscopic and didn't really hurt at all.  But anyway, I was told to get plenty of rest, eat light meals, and generally just veg.  I am not a good vegger.

Friday afternoon, I was standing in my Mom's kitchen, leaning against the kitchen counter having an in-depth discussion with my stepfather's home health nurse about surgeries.  We compared surgery scars, recovery times, and the like.  After awhile, Mom and the nurse were telling me to go lie down somewhere. I shouldn't be up wandering around.  So, like a dutiful patient, I flopped on the little bed that Mom had set up in her front room to read.  

By the way, I do not suggest that right after having a minor major surgery your read "Mennonite in a Little Black Dress".  I can tell you from painful experience that it hurts to laugh, and giggles just don't cut it for this book.  What was my friend Debbie thinking?  Maybe she thought laughter really was the best medicine.

Anyway, I read awhile and slept awhile.  Read some more, then got up to see if there was anything good to eat.  I was told in no uncertain terms that I should have a bland diet (i.e. potato soup) and not eat anything too exciting.  After eating, I slept some more.  (By now I bet you are wishing that you had moved on to the next blog - go ahead - I don't blame you.  Relaxing is pretty boring sometimes)

Saturday was more of the same.  The only difference was hearing the somewhat desperate tone to my husband's voice when I asked how things were going at home with the two small fry:  "Good. Great.  How are you feeling?" he asked, somewhat like a person who was trying to ascertain if the parole board had voted in favor of early release.

Sunday dawned hot and clear.  I was feeling the benefits of a lot of sleep, a lot of reading and a lot of potato soup.  I decided to take a walk down Mom's long driveway through the woods to the little street that runs by her house.  Mom has done a lot of work over the years fine-tuning her home into something I like to call Modern Forties Vintage Only Better.  I stepped down the front porch to see an old blue car putter by.  For a moment I thought I was in some time warp.  I shook my head and proceeded down the drive, swatting at the mosquitoes all the way. 

I had just reached the end of the drive when I spied a tiny spotted fawn nibbling the neighbor's front shrubs.  Its mama was nowhere to be seen.  It delicately munched its way across the front beds and stopped at the edge of the neighbor's driveway, looking back over its shoulder.  That is when I saw mama step from the woods.  She ambled toward her baby, not stopping until the "poot poot" of a bright yellow Studebaker (convertible!) motored past.  She and I looked at each other in disbelief, as if simultaneously saying, "A Studebaker out here?  Seriously?"  Then she was gone.

This is kind of what Mama Deer and I saw, only envision the top to be white and down.
Once Hubby and the children arrived, the relaxation was over.  Pandemonium reigned and things were back to normal.  I was ready for it, thanks to the tender care of my Mom and lots of rest and relaxation.  Which is a good thing, because my house is a wreck after a weekend of mayhem without mama!