So last weekend I didn't write anything because I couldn't see an optimistic way to frame things. This month has been hard, guys. (And yes, as of Valentine's Day, it has been exactly a month!) In addition to the farm work, I homeschool the four kids. My only time away from the house is when I go to the Y and have about an hour of solitude on the track or in the weight cage. And that helps, believe me! I can feel myself recharged as I gather the kids and take them back to the car. But as an introvert, three hours of alone time a week... it just simply isn't enough, and my stores get lower and lower as time goes on.
So the weekend of the eighth, I had really hoped to get a little time away from the kids. My mom was half-planning to have the kids at her house overnight Friday, and I was half-planning to have dinner with a dear friend that evening and get some quality alone time in the morning. But then a massive snowstorm blew in, and all plans were cancelled. The fact that my washer died was incidental. I was stuck, I was trapped, I was miserable.
The weekend crawled by and I kicked back against my tethers. I wanted to go out to dinner. I wanted soda. I wanted to scream. But I recognized that I needed to put my head down and handle this, so I did: Homecooked meals, no soda, and while I didn't have the happiest countenance--no screaming. I saw the weekend for what it was: two days, no different than most other two-day periods of life. Monday I could go to the Y and recharge. I went to church Sunday and engaged as best I could, and did the best thing I could think of for myself and the kids: I asked for help.
There are many wonderful people at my church, and many of them love my kids very much. But there is one couple in particular who can't seem to get enough of them (yet!) and have been wanting to steal them for a while now, so I told them it was time. We made plans for the 15th: I would bring the kids to the shopping mall and leave the whole posse in their capable hands for a few hours. Then when I got home I talked with my mom and got her on board with watching the kids Saturday evening to Sunday morning. I kept my head down and kept plodding, but now there was a Plan. Something ahead that I couldn't wait to get to. It gave me purpose and hope.
Saturday didn't go exactly as hoped. I dropped the kids off at the mall, then went straight to the Y. I thought I would try out the swimming pool, take a long hot shower, then head home, cook up some salmon I had thawed for lunch, then do chores and head out to pick up the kids from the mall, drop them at mom's, and meet my friend. It all went to plan until I hopped in my car to drive home for lunch and chores... the van wouldn't start. The battery was dead.
I always have jumper cables in my trunk, so I went inside to see if any Y employees felt like lending their vehicles. One very kind young lady was happy to help, and moved her SUV to the spot next to my car. But after 20 minutes of wiggling connections, we realized the handwriting was on the wall--we just couldn't get the dumb car to start. I called AAA and resigned myself to the 45 minute wait. In the mean time there was a Sir Walter Scott book in the lobby so I sat and read the introduction to "Talisman." About halfway through the appendix to the introduction, the AAA truck arrived, and I brought them to my vehicle... he hooked up his tester, said "Your battery seems fine," then got in and turned the key...
Guys, the van started perfectly. No hesitation. I have no idea what that was all about. He thought I should get the starter looked at, and I will, but that battery was low prior to his arrival--the dinging for the open door was sickly, the dash lights were dim, there's no way it was in perfect working condition when I was trying to start it.
Anyway I got on the road home about an hour later than anticipated, meaning I just barely had time to do chores and change clothes before i had to pick up the kids from the mall. But you know what? I still felt good. I didn't stress or moan about my awful luck; I was grateful that the kids weren't with me when I was trying to start the car in that nippy breeze, and I chose to relax and recharge rather than letting my circumstances ruin my day.
I got four very happy kids from the mall, thanked their guardians, and headed for mom's house for stage 2. I listened happily to their chatter and nonsense regarding the fun they had enjoyed, made silly noises back at Dilly, and pulled into grandma's driveway right on schedule. A few minutes later I was en route to an affluent little lakeside village that shall remain in this blog nameless, where I was to meet a dear friend for dinner. Arriving early, I went for a very cold but very refreshing walk along snowy sidewalks and through a cutting lake wind; when I couldn't take it anymore I entered the designated restaurant and waited for my friend to arrive while I watched some sort of catfish playing follow the leader in a large aquarium.
I can't and won't share all that passed in that evening; suffice it to say that the food was delicious, the talk was wonderful, and I headed for home slightly concerned about how late evening chores would be fed but nonetheless so, so happy for how I had spent my evening. I even enjoyed the 40 minute car ride alone, I just love talking to myself and don't get to do it without the kids asking a million questions. After chores I went to bed and got the longest, best sleep I have had all month. When morning came I was refreshed and ready; I did morning chores, relaxed for a couple hours, and picked up the kids from my mom's church before heading to ours for Sunday School.
Did everything go perfectly? absolutely not. Do I know what's wrong with my car? Nope! Hoping it was just a bad battery connection which the AAA guy's cleaning of the contacts would have fixed. I've turned it on successfully five or six times now; I'll try not to put us in a situation where it not turning on would be an emergency. But you guys, I feel so much better! Tea's struggling with her emotions and I've been barely able to handle the sudden outbursts of weeping, but this evening's round I was able to have a very patient and kind talk with her about feelings and appropriate ways to handle them. She told me later that when she cries, she feels like she "needed to do it." I told her I totally understand that and I feel the same way sometimes, but perhaps we could work on having her put it off until she wasn't in the middle of chores, when she could cry into her pillow instead of bellowing for the whole valley to hear...
I love that girl.
So the weekend of the eighth, I had really hoped to get a little time away from the kids. My mom was half-planning to have the kids at her house overnight Friday, and I was half-planning to have dinner with a dear friend that evening and get some quality alone time in the morning. But then a massive snowstorm blew in, and all plans were cancelled. The fact that my washer died was incidental. I was stuck, I was trapped, I was miserable.
The weekend crawled by and I kicked back against my tethers. I wanted to go out to dinner. I wanted soda. I wanted to scream. But I recognized that I needed to put my head down and handle this, so I did: Homecooked meals, no soda, and while I didn't have the happiest countenance--no screaming. I saw the weekend for what it was: two days, no different than most other two-day periods of life. Monday I could go to the Y and recharge. I went to church Sunday and engaged as best I could, and did the best thing I could think of for myself and the kids: I asked for help.
There are many wonderful people at my church, and many of them love my kids very much. But there is one couple in particular who can't seem to get enough of them (yet!) and have been wanting to steal them for a while now, so I told them it was time. We made plans for the 15th: I would bring the kids to the shopping mall and leave the whole posse in their capable hands for a few hours. Then when I got home I talked with my mom and got her on board with watching the kids Saturday evening to Sunday morning. I kept my head down and kept plodding, but now there was a Plan. Something ahead that I couldn't wait to get to. It gave me purpose and hope.
Saturday didn't go exactly as hoped. I dropped the kids off at the mall, then went straight to the Y. I thought I would try out the swimming pool, take a long hot shower, then head home, cook up some salmon I had thawed for lunch, then do chores and head out to pick up the kids from the mall, drop them at mom's, and meet my friend. It all went to plan until I hopped in my car to drive home for lunch and chores... the van wouldn't start. The battery was dead.
I always have jumper cables in my trunk, so I went inside to see if any Y employees felt like lending their vehicles. One very kind young lady was happy to help, and moved her SUV to the spot next to my car. But after 20 minutes of wiggling connections, we realized the handwriting was on the wall--we just couldn't get the dumb car to start. I called AAA and resigned myself to the 45 minute wait. In the mean time there was a Sir Walter Scott book in the lobby so I sat and read the introduction to "Talisman." About halfway through the appendix to the introduction, the AAA truck arrived, and I brought them to my vehicle... he hooked up his tester, said "Your battery seems fine," then got in and turned the key...
Guys, the van started perfectly. No hesitation. I have no idea what that was all about. He thought I should get the starter looked at, and I will, but that battery was low prior to his arrival--the dinging for the open door was sickly, the dash lights were dim, there's no way it was in perfect working condition when I was trying to start it.
Anyway I got on the road home about an hour later than anticipated, meaning I just barely had time to do chores and change clothes before i had to pick up the kids from the mall. But you know what? I still felt good. I didn't stress or moan about my awful luck; I was grateful that the kids weren't with me when I was trying to start the car in that nippy breeze, and I chose to relax and recharge rather than letting my circumstances ruin my day.
I got four very happy kids from the mall, thanked their guardians, and headed for mom's house for stage 2. I listened happily to their chatter and nonsense regarding the fun they had enjoyed, made silly noises back at Dilly, and pulled into grandma's driveway right on schedule. A few minutes later I was en route to an affluent little lakeside village that shall remain in this blog nameless, where I was to meet a dear friend for dinner. Arriving early, I went for a very cold but very refreshing walk along snowy sidewalks and through a cutting lake wind; when I couldn't take it anymore I entered the designated restaurant and waited for my friend to arrive while I watched some sort of catfish playing follow the leader in a large aquarium.
I can't and won't share all that passed in that evening; suffice it to say that the food was delicious, the talk was wonderful, and I headed for home slightly concerned about how late evening chores would be fed but nonetheless so, so happy for how I had spent my evening. I even enjoyed the 40 minute car ride alone, I just love talking to myself and don't get to do it without the kids asking a million questions. After chores I went to bed and got the longest, best sleep I have had all month. When morning came I was refreshed and ready; I did morning chores, relaxed for a couple hours, and picked up the kids from my mom's church before heading to ours for Sunday School.
Did everything go perfectly? absolutely not. Do I know what's wrong with my car? Nope! Hoping it was just a bad battery connection which the AAA guy's cleaning of the contacts would have fixed. I've turned it on successfully five or six times now; I'll try not to put us in a situation where it not turning on would be an emergency. But you guys, I feel so much better! Tea's struggling with her emotions and I've been barely able to handle the sudden outbursts of weeping, but this evening's round I was able to have a very patient and kind talk with her about feelings and appropriate ways to handle them. She told me later that when she cries, she feels like she "needed to do it." I told her I totally understand that and I feel the same way sometimes, but perhaps we could work on having her put it off until she wasn't in the middle of chores, when she could cry into her pillow instead of bellowing for the whole valley to hear...
I love that girl.
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