A funny thing happened on my way to my hip replacement...

It was supposed to be a fairly easy procedure. Well, at easy as a hip replacement could be. 

They would knock me out, go in and replace the old, arthritic hip and replace it with a shiny new one. Bing,Bam, Boom.  Easy, Peasy Lemon Squeezy. 

I planned on having it done June 27th- which would give me plenty of time to heal. Hell, after the last one I was walking without a cane OR a limp when I went for my 2 week suture removal.  I would have time to heal, recover by mid-July, go wedding dress shopping for Bitchy’s September wedding and all would be well! 

However, we all know better than that.  

Things were going way too well.  I had made it through the year, had several amazing retirement parties, attended a kick-ass bridal shower for Bitchy (more to come) and was just gonna check this last tiny thing off my list.

I was the first one for surgery on the 27th, which meant an arrival time at the hospital of 5:30 a.m.  (This is when being a morning person comes in a little handy.)
Fred and I are getting a bit used to these kinds of things, so after checking me in and wheeling me back to the pre-op area he decided to head back home for a few more winks.  

I was very comfortable with my surgeon, for he has replaced not only my other hip but both my knees.  Now don’t go thinking he’s surgery crazy, because he’s not. In fact he normally goes the conservative route- except when he knows there is no recourse.  He is also very well known for his low rate of infection and the nurses in the hospital all rave about him. Frankly, I’ve been raving about him for years. 

I woke up in my room after who knows how many hours of surgery and recovery and Fred was by my side.  I felt okay, but certainly groggy.  

“You’re fine honey,” he said.  “But there was a bit of a complication.”  I was still a but fuzzy, but he continued. “Apparently when they were hammering the joint into your bone, your bone fractured. “ 

“Oh, okay.”  I said, and went right back to sleep.   It wasn’t until later that afternoon when the doc came to see me that I fully understood the ramifications of said bone fracture. 

“Well, I don’t want you putting any weight on that foot for 6 weeks.” 

“WHAT?”  I said. 
“I said, I only want you to use a walker and toe touch on that side for six weeks.” 

“SIX WEEKS? Six.  Weeks??” I looked a him.  I was really trying to wrap my head around this. “Oh.  Okay.” 

He shook his head, “These things happen sometimes. Your bone was very brittle, and it fractured. We need to be very careful so it can heal.  We will take a look at it in 2 weeks and see if it’s healed enough to put any weight on it. But I want you to be prepared for the fact that it MIGHT take 6 more weeks.” 

So here I am, a week and some change into recovery, and reminding myself that things could be way worse.  Well, to be honest it was Fred that reminded me. As I was having a pity party yesterday, he said, “Hey, are you done working? Did you just retire?” 


“Do we have a great thing here together?” 


“Do we live in a beautiful home and get to go on wonderful trips?”


“And are we having a beautiful wedding here soon?” 

“Yes!” I said.  “Okay! I get your point!  No more whining!!” 

Now, if anyone out there hears me whine ONCE, come on over here and slap me. 


Even I would rather have chocolate...

As I’ve said before, I had an UNUSUALLY challenging class this year.  That being said, I would face each day with the words, “Today will be a better day”.   

Mostly it wasn’t.   But each morning I had hope!. 

Mornings are so very important to any classroom, as they set the tone for the day.  I tried everything to keep the mornings somewhat quiet and calm. I put classical music on, I had somewhat easy morning work on the tables, I separated them to different tables every day or so to try to find a way to keep them all working somewhat quietly. 

I failed miserably. 

They were a friendly and talkative group. And what I mean by that is, if one person got in a fight with one group, they could easily move on to another group and create even more chaos.  More than one of my cherubs has that particular talent.

I had two fellas in particular whose names were Alex and Zack.  They knew each other from pre-school and their families were fast friends who would often socialize together.  Normally that is a plus. Except when that friendship is more like a love-hate relationship that ends creating chaos in its wake.  Alex was very LOUD and looked for Zack as soon as he entered the classroom each morning. He also liked to copy every single thing that Alex did- from ordering the same lunch, to not listening to the teacher, to running around the carpet to having the same breakfast or anything at all basically.   

Zack had breakfast at school each morning, due to the fact that his parents left him at before school care each morning too early for him to eat.  We have a great breakfast program that allows anyone to purchase a breakfast. 

Alex, on the other hand, always eat breakfast at home.  I like to guess each morning what he had based on what was around his mouth or down the front of his shirt.  This “at home” breakfast never deterred him from purchasing one each morning, based on what Zack was eating. And, without fail, they usually ended up with chocolate milk as their drink of choice. Now I’m sure there isn’t enough sugar in the chocolate milk to get them too cranked up, but I still “strongly encouraged” them to get regular 2% milk.  (“Zack, I’m BEGGING you to get white milk. PLEASE You KNOW Alex needs all the help we can give him to try to remain calm.”) After a few weeks of going back and forth, Zack began getting white milk. However, much to our dismay, Alex continued to grab the chocolate. 

I gave up, knowing it was a battle I would never win. 

A few weeks before school was out, Zack came into the classroom with his breakfast, yelling for me at the top of his lungs, “MS. Marsh, MS.MARSH!!” 

I quickly made my way towards hi, hoping to “quell the yell.”  

“This is your lucky day!” he shouted anyway.  “The kitchen is OUT of chocolate milk!” And with that the rest of class started cheering.  

We began the day with rowdy laughter, but this time I was in on it.  That kind chaos makes it all o.k. 


Wedding planner extraordinaire, kindergarten style.

Most of the kids in my class this year were so excited about Bitchy getting married. They screamed at the top of their lungs the Monday after she got engaged. The girls were especially obsessed with the wedding details- but none more so than Bella. 

Bella not only loved tutus and cowboy boots, she also loved love.  In fact, she told practically every boy in the classroom that she was going to marry them.  But that is another story entirely. 

Near the end of the year she kept giving me suggestions to pass on to Bitchy and her fiance regarding the wedding.  The idea of a sparkly rainbow unicorn on top of the wedding cake was probably the most brilliant. In fact, I’m sure they are considering that as we speak. 

“Then, she has to wear lots of gems and sparkles and diamonds on her dress,” she said dreamily. “Is she having a flower girl?” 

“Yes,” I replied, “I think she is having TWO!” 

“Oh, good,” she said with a smile.  Then, her eyes opened wide, “And tell her she NEEDS a ring mayor!  Everyone has to have a ring mayor. They take the rings up the aisle, you know.  Make sure you write that down, Ms. Marsh.”   

(If I could convince Bitchy to put Bella in the wedding, I would do it in a hot SECOND. She’s all the entertainment one needs at a wedding with a unicorn cake and a ring major.)