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.