The best-laid plans and all that.
Sunday quickly turned into a 48-hour nightmare (or more - what day is today?). On my way up to the Lodge, I got a call from Bill telling me that Estes was colicking. We don't panic about little belly aches with our horses, for that call to come in, she had to be in a BAD way. I've got all of the updates, etc. up over at Tales and Mom and Bill have their version on their blog.
The long and short of it is, Estes looked death straight in the eye (or eye of the needle in this case - she was slated to be euthanized) and stuck her tongue out. It means that Mom, Bill and I spend the last two nights sleepless and giving round the clock care to Her Highness. They managed to not neglect their guests (barely) and I was a zombie walking in and out of the Lodge at odd hours, covered head to toe in horse dirt, manure, snot and at one point, blood. I'm so darn sick of these jeans that I've worn since Sunday, my socks should be burned and I gave up on my hair about 47 hours ago. Since I had just planned on riding on Sunday, I brought nothing with me. No change of clothes, no deodorant, no meds. Luckily, I always have a contact lens case and eye ball juice up here, otherwise I'd've really been a mess.
I thought I gave up getting up every two hours throughout the night when the kids were little. But it's amazing how quickly it comes back.
I woke up this morning absolutely exhausted and couldn't figure it out; afterall, I only had to get up *once* last night for Her Highness. It dawned on me as I walked back from checking on her and my heart started racing. I haven't taken my meds since Sunday; I was so consumed with taking care of the equine love of my life, I'd forgotten about me.
Today's back to real life. Queen Estes is feeling so much better, demanding that her humans feed her, and it's Digger's 20th (!) birthday. Not sure how that happened. I must have blinked or something, because I swear it was just yesterday I was pushing that little brat out.
Digger, Happy Birthday! Only one more year before your crazy uncle can take you on your own Pascagoula Run...