Even with all of my time off in November for extenuating circumstances, my family was more than gracious about letting me go for Christmas. T did offer to host my family and provide and turkey and a ham just to keep me from leaving, but when I turned her down she dealt with it very nicely.
I had a brilliant idea during the four hours it took me to pack on Saturday night.
First, I thought I could put the Christmas presents in my standard suitcase and stuff my clothes somehow into a duffel bag or something. Then, when I tried this idea out I discovered that my presents would never, ever fit into that suitcase. I would have to use my GIANT suitcase with the broken wheels and the bent handle and the questionably sturdy zipper.
It was a scary thought.
But I could fit all my stuff into the one bag. My clothes, my book, the gifts, everything.
So, I opened it up and started putting in the wrapped boxes. Then, I spent an agonizingly long hour trying to make actual outfits since I couldn't pull my usual stunt and just through a bunch of crap into a bag way bigger than I needed.
But even with my frugal packing I was wary of stuffing the suitcase. That zipper is really not dependable.
The sister suitcase to this one died in Africa, after being forced to close around way too much stuff and then molested by airport security. She never made it back from Uganda.
I stood there for a long, long minute thinking hard and coming up with nothing. Then my eyes fell on the pile of unused Space Saver bags that I had been storing inside this useless suitcase.
Genius.
I packed my clothes the best way I knew how and zipped up the suitcase.
I was done.
It was 2am.
I got up at 5:30.
And I got dressed and was miserable and I called a cab and was miserable and I caught my train and was miserable and then .
AND THEN.
Well, then, I had to walk from Penn Station to Port Authority with this cursed suitcase. Going up and down escalators, dragging the broken wheels across dips and cracks in the sidewalk. And it was windy. And morning.
Ugh.
I cheered up on the bus and tried to nap before I was off to church and then into the whirlwind of activity that is an American holiday.
So far, so good.
I've been with family ever since and we are headed off tomorrow to be with friends who might as well be family. I have a replacement luggage set that was a gift from my mother to replace my horrible suitcase, so things are looking up. I'm back to work Monday, so have a nice week!
MeRrY cHrIsTmAs!!!!!
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Never a dull moment.
For real.
Chanukah is wrapping up, so the barrage of cheap, crappy presents from extended family has ceased. I have felt even more like myself this week than last week, which is nice. My setbacks come in the form of decreased brain function.
I have been forgetting so much. Where I put things, which kids are home, who had baths in the last four days...
Dinner, lunch, to get up on time in the morning.
To charge my phone, when the library books are due, if the dog has peed, if Monkey has peed.
The simple fact that I am working, the fact that I have to also pee sometimes...you see where this is going?
In the moment, I am fine. I am great even. But where did my memory go? I feel like Dori the fish. Today I couldn't remember the grocery list, and I can usually rattle that thing off like it's my job. OH WAIT IT IS.
I have the worst writer's block of my life, which is especially awful because writing is how I vent.
But the good news is, my boss is right there with me.
Her back went out while I was away and it never came back. She's had a shot and some pills and the baby no longer gets breast milk, but she's not 100%, so we both just make it through the days by the skin of our teeth and then we crash at night without another thought.
So then, today.
Today, T forgot her happiness and I forgot that the washing machine drains into the laundry room sink and nothing should be in there when I throw a load of dirty towels in.
Today was the first Sunday since I've been home that they asked me to work. T can't lift the kids or baby and I am going away for Christmas soon, so we're soaking up our time together.
We spent the morning eating bagels and trying to ignore the kids.
We spent the afternoon spread throughout the house, doing our own things, making sure the kids were occupied and semi-quiet and at least partially fed.
E spent the day on the couch.
A little while before dinner, I rounded up all three of the bigger ones and we went downstairs to play in the basement playroom.
I have been so excited because the basement is finally clean and put back together and my room looks so cute and I am home to enjoy it and everything was just lovely. So the kids ran down the stairs all happily and I went down and thought, oh let me move those towels to the dryer since I'm down here.
The washing machine isn't really draining properly after the last spin cycle, so it still had some water in the basin. I set it to drain again and then took a peek at the draining hose to see how much water was coming out.
Oh snap.
It was draining alright, right onto the blue towel that was clogging the sink.
Oh snap.
I looked along the floor under the sink and behind the other washer and dryer and didn't see any water.
That was a relief.
Then I went into my room to change out of my slippers. since it was 4:30, I thought maybe I should get dressed.
My slippers squished on the sopping wet rug.
Relief gone.
I left the mess there because, frankly, it was overwhelming, and I went to feed the kids dinner.
We were dining on leftovers and reading How the Grinch Stole Christmas, when it dawned on me that part of the reason my head is such a mess is that I am PMSing and the other part is because I have already mentally checked out for Christmas break.
All I can think about are Thursday, my next day off, and getting the heck out of here the following Sunday. For someone who was so relieved to be home a week ago, I am certainly antsy now. I cannot wait to give people the presents I got them, I cannot wait for the Christmas service at my home church, and I CANNOT WAIT TO GO TO NORTH CAROLINA AND HUG THE CRAP OUT OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FRIEND I HAVE EVER HAD.
Someone slap me and make me focus.
It will be a miracle if we make it through this week without me or T losing a kid or forgetting a meal.
Even more surprisingly will be if I reorganize the linen closet that has been bothering me for two weeks.
Chanukah is wrapping up, so the barrage of cheap, crappy presents from extended family has ceased. I have felt even more like myself this week than last week, which is nice. My setbacks come in the form of decreased brain function.
I have been forgetting so much. Where I put things, which kids are home, who had baths in the last four days...
Dinner, lunch, to get up on time in the morning.
To charge my phone, when the library books are due, if the dog has peed, if Monkey has peed.
The simple fact that I am working, the fact that I have to also pee sometimes...you see where this is going?
In the moment, I am fine. I am great even. But where did my memory go? I feel like Dori the fish. Today I couldn't remember the grocery list, and I can usually rattle that thing off like it's my job. OH WAIT IT IS.
I have the worst writer's block of my life, which is especially awful because writing is how I vent.
But the good news is, my boss is right there with me.
Her back went out while I was away and it never came back. She's had a shot and some pills and the baby no longer gets breast milk, but she's not 100%, so we both just make it through the days by the skin of our teeth and then we crash at night without another thought.
So then, today.
Today, T forgot her happiness and I forgot that the washing machine drains into the laundry room sink and nothing should be in there when I throw a load of dirty towels in.
Today was the first Sunday since I've been home that they asked me to work. T can't lift the kids or baby and I am going away for Christmas soon, so we're soaking up our time together.
We spent the morning eating bagels and trying to ignore the kids.
We spent the afternoon spread throughout the house, doing our own things, making sure the kids were occupied and semi-quiet and at least partially fed.
E spent the day on the couch.
A little while before dinner, I rounded up all three of the bigger ones and we went downstairs to play in the basement playroom.
I have been so excited because the basement is finally clean and put back together and my room looks so cute and I am home to enjoy it and everything was just lovely. So the kids ran down the stairs all happily and I went down and thought, oh let me move those towels to the dryer since I'm down here.
The washing machine isn't really draining properly after the last spin cycle, so it still had some water in the basin. I set it to drain again and then took a peek at the draining hose to see how much water was coming out.
Oh snap.
It was draining alright, right onto the blue towel that was clogging the sink.
Oh snap.
I looked along the floor under the sink and behind the other washer and dryer and didn't see any water.
That was a relief.
Then I went into my room to change out of my slippers. since it was 4:30, I thought maybe I should get dressed.
My slippers squished on the sopping wet rug.
Relief gone.
I left the mess there because, frankly, it was overwhelming, and I went to feed the kids dinner.
We were dining on leftovers and reading How the Grinch Stole Christmas, when it dawned on me that part of the reason my head is such a mess is that I am PMSing and the other part is because I have already mentally checked out for Christmas break.
All I can think about are Thursday, my next day off, and getting the heck out of here the following Sunday. For someone who was so relieved to be home a week ago, I am certainly antsy now. I cannot wait to give people the presents I got them, I cannot wait for the Christmas service at my home church, and I CANNOT WAIT TO GO TO NORTH CAROLINA AND HUG THE CRAP OUT OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FRIEND I HAVE EVER HAD.
Someone slap me and make me focus.
It will be a miracle if we make it through this week without me or T losing a kid or forgetting a meal.
Even more surprisingly will be if I reorganize the linen closet that has been bothering me for two weeks.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Not nannying.
This has been, hands down, the longest and most emotional two weeks of my life.
I left my children behind quite suddenly to go be with my father in the hospital during his last days. My family rallied together and we all had quite an experience. We learned so much and were so blessed to have that time.
I stopped home from time to time to gather fresh clothes or change my shoes. For the better part of two weeks I was either in the hospital or at my mom's house.
Since this happened on the tail of our renovation, I missed the new fridge delivery. I also missed putting all the china and good dishes away in their new place, so I have to reorganize everything T touched. She agrees (haha) but she couldn't stand having it all out anymore.
My work family was so awesome during those two weeks. The only pressure I felt from them was to NOT come back until I was ready. She didn't want me rushing back to work on their account. And she also didn't want me coming back and then having to go again, or worse, missing time with my family that I would regret.
So. Awesome.
In the end, I was hesitant to come back to work, but after two rocky days back I felt so much better to be home and functional again. Even though every five minutes one of the kids asks me if Hannah (my sister) is coming back, they are glad to have me back and that makes me glad to be here.
This whole ordeal has made me realize how at home I am here. Part of this is because my mom has moved a few times and downsized her home, and part of it is how wonderful this family is and my job is, but I actually feel like I belong here and not in my mom's house for the first time in my life.
When I left for college, I lived with my sister, so Mom's house has always been my home base. Since I jumped kind of spontaneously from one apartment to another with friends, I had fun living on my own, but none of those were home either. Those were shared spaces with friends who I may or may not have been getting along with that day. Mom's house was still home.
But two weeks with eleven people in a one-floor, two bedroom, ONE BATHROOM house will make you feel like you want to leave. I think even Mom was ready to move out by the end of it.
So, home is where your mom is, but her house has lost its magic touch.
For a while at least.
And the good news is that I am so settled here that I felt immense relief at coming home and unwinding. I took a load off. Not of laundry though. I didn't do a load of laundry until I had run out of mismatched and odd pieces of clothing that E relentlessly made fun of. And socks. Once the socks were gone, it was all over.
So, I've been home for a week.
The laundry is caught up.
The house is clean and almost organized.
The kids have stopped asking me why I went away.
They have also stopped asking me if Hannah will be back soon.
Chanukah has started and I have eaten nothing but abgusht and latkes for 24 hours.
My room is put back together and I can find things again, like Christmas presents, which I wrapped with R's help and we like to go down there and just stare at the adorable pile of little, red gifts. Also, my hair brush.
My suitcase didn't fare very well through its travels. It was on its last leg (wheel) anyway, and all that back and forth was just too much. It is a replacement suitcase I acquired in Uganda when my last suitcase was murdered by airport security en route to Africa a few years ago (Ashley, I think it's disgusting that I can say "a few years ago" and we still haven't been back there). It seemed pretty sturdy when I packed it to come home, but if you've ever seen how I pack, you understand that I need top quality zippers and extra sturdy, steel reinforced lining.
It was choking up broken pieces of the vinyl bottom when I unpacked it a couple of nights ago.
RIP Betty Blue.
While I was gone Baby Munchkin started crawling full force. He was dabbling in it when I left, unable to get a good enough grip on the hard wood to really move, but two weeks later not only can he crawl like a master, he also stands on his own and walks while holding onto things. He also has an associates' degree and is looking into grad schools for next year.
His favorite food, which he also started eating a lot of while I was gone, is soup. All soup, he's not picky. But he HATES pears.
Hates them like this:
I put a spoonful in his mouth and his whole face cringes and he spits and gags and moans like he's dying. Then, when he's gotten most of it out of his mouth or unintentionally swallowed it, he tilts his head all the way to one side and looks at you with the saddest, most pathetic look of being betrayed and heartbroken.
It's usually this position which allows me to shove another bite of pears into his mouth.
Mwahahaha.
I have learned a lot during all this though, and I can tell the learning is not over. There's so much about myself and my life that I want to change as a result of everything that happened at my dad's bedside and in the days that followed.
I am going to be a better niece and cousin to my relatives. I am going to be a better volunteer in every area manageable. And most importantly, I am going to be a better child of God.
There was not a day in the last three weeks that I could have made it through without leaning entirely on Him. I have to talk about that. I have to share it. I have to.
Maybe not here, not in depth anyway, because it's more fun to talk, but I will say that I have never been more unsure of how those outside of Christ get up every morning. I can't figure out how those people carry on after trials in their lives. How do they settle the unrest that finds its way into your heart after losing someone you love? I really don't know.
I feel like the answer lies in self-focus and self-pleasing and God has been so careful to not let me go there this time. I've had my experience with that in the past and it's a quick fix that doesn't last.
I'm so grateful to God for making Himself my focus, and for hugging my entire family so close for those two weeks.
And I'm so thankful for all the children in my life, the ones I am related to and my work kids. They make bright spots in my life wherever they are most desperately needed.
T and I have been hanging out more than usually, talking a lot, and she asked me the other day, what I would envision myself doing if not nannying.
I said, well...I'd be in Africa.
"Working with children?"
Yes. Then I reminded her how I had been in college very shortly with the goal of becoming a teacher.
"Same thing." She said. "Same thing, same thing."
"Well, I worked in photography."
"Did you ever picture yourself doing that for a career?"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"
Her point was that OF COURSE I would find comfort and joy and peace from being around children; they are obviously what makes my life full. And so, after one week back to work, despite my hesitations, I am feeling better and better because I have an awesome God and awesome kids.
On with the nannying.
I left my children behind quite suddenly to go be with my father in the hospital during his last days. My family rallied together and we all had quite an experience. We learned so much and were so blessed to have that time.
I stopped home from time to time to gather fresh clothes or change my shoes. For the better part of two weeks I was either in the hospital or at my mom's house.
Since this happened on the tail of our renovation, I missed the new fridge delivery. I also missed putting all the china and good dishes away in their new place, so I have to reorganize everything T touched. She agrees (haha) but she couldn't stand having it all out anymore.
My work family was so awesome during those two weeks. The only pressure I felt from them was to NOT come back until I was ready. She didn't want me rushing back to work on their account. And she also didn't want me coming back and then having to go again, or worse, missing time with my family that I would regret.
So. Awesome.
In the end, I was hesitant to come back to work, but after two rocky days back I felt so much better to be home and functional again. Even though every five minutes one of the kids asks me if Hannah (my sister) is coming back, they are glad to have me back and that makes me glad to be here.
This whole ordeal has made me realize how at home I am here. Part of this is because my mom has moved a few times and downsized her home, and part of it is how wonderful this family is and my job is, but I actually feel like I belong here and not in my mom's house for the first time in my life.
When I left for college, I lived with my sister, so Mom's house has always been my home base. Since I jumped kind of spontaneously from one apartment to another with friends, I had fun living on my own, but none of those were home either. Those were shared spaces with friends who I may or may not have been getting along with that day. Mom's house was still home.
But two weeks with eleven people in a one-floor, two bedroom, ONE BATHROOM house will make you feel like you want to leave. I think even Mom was ready to move out by the end of it.
So, home is where your mom is, but her house has lost its magic touch.
For a while at least.
And the good news is that I am so settled here that I felt immense relief at coming home and unwinding. I took a load off. Not of laundry though. I didn't do a load of laundry until I had run out of mismatched and odd pieces of clothing that E relentlessly made fun of. And socks. Once the socks were gone, it was all over.
So, I've been home for a week.
The laundry is caught up.
The house is clean and almost organized.
The kids have stopped asking me why I went away.
They have also stopped asking me if Hannah will be back soon.
Chanukah has started and I have eaten nothing but abgusht and latkes for 24 hours.
My room is put back together and I can find things again, like Christmas presents, which I wrapped with R's help and we like to go down there and just stare at the adorable pile of little, red gifts. Also, my hair brush.
My suitcase didn't fare very well through its travels. It was on its last leg (wheel) anyway, and all that back and forth was just too much. It is a replacement suitcase I acquired in Uganda when my last suitcase was murdered by airport security en route to Africa a few years ago (Ashley, I think it's disgusting that I can say "a few years ago" and we still haven't been back there). It seemed pretty sturdy when I packed it to come home, but if you've ever seen how I pack, you understand that I need top quality zippers and extra sturdy, steel reinforced lining.
It was choking up broken pieces of the vinyl bottom when I unpacked it a couple of nights ago.
RIP Betty Blue.
While I was gone Baby Munchkin started crawling full force. He was dabbling in it when I left, unable to get a good enough grip on the hard wood to really move, but two weeks later not only can he crawl like a master, he also stands on his own and walks while holding onto things. He also has an associates' degree and is looking into grad schools for next year.
His favorite food, which he also started eating a lot of while I was gone, is soup. All soup, he's not picky. But he HATES pears.
Hates them like this:
I put a spoonful in his mouth and his whole face cringes and he spits and gags and moans like he's dying. Then, when he's gotten most of it out of his mouth or unintentionally swallowed it, he tilts his head all the way to one side and looks at you with the saddest, most pathetic look of being betrayed and heartbroken.
It's usually this position which allows me to shove another bite of pears into his mouth.
Mwahahaha.
I have learned a lot during all this though, and I can tell the learning is not over. There's so much about myself and my life that I want to change as a result of everything that happened at my dad's bedside and in the days that followed.
I am going to be a better niece and cousin to my relatives. I am going to be a better volunteer in every area manageable. And most importantly, I am going to be a better child of God.
There was not a day in the last three weeks that I could have made it through without leaning entirely on Him. I have to talk about that. I have to share it. I have to.
Maybe not here, not in depth anyway, because it's more fun to talk, but I will say that I have never been more unsure of how those outside of Christ get up every morning. I can't figure out how those people carry on after trials in their lives. How do they settle the unrest that finds its way into your heart after losing someone you love? I really don't know.
I feel like the answer lies in self-focus and self-pleasing and God has been so careful to not let me go there this time. I've had my experience with that in the past and it's a quick fix that doesn't last.
I'm so grateful to God for making Himself my focus, and for hugging my entire family so close for those two weeks.
And I'm so thankful for all the children in my life, the ones I am related to and my work kids. They make bright spots in my life wherever they are most desperately needed.
T and I have been hanging out more than usually, talking a lot, and she asked me the other day, what I would envision myself doing if not nannying.
I said, well...I'd be in Africa.
"Working with children?"
Yes. Then I reminded her how I had been in college very shortly with the goal of becoming a teacher.
"Same thing." She said. "Same thing, same thing."
"Well, I worked in photography."
"Did you ever picture yourself doing that for a career?"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"
Her point was that OF COURSE I would find comfort and joy and peace from being around children; they are obviously what makes my life full. And so, after one week back to work, despite my hesitations, I am feeling better and better because I have an awesome God and awesome kids.
On with the nannying.
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