Today was a day of what felt like continued failures.
I woke early with the specific intention of getting ready *alone* without any interruption...from anyone. Did that happen? I'm sure you can guess that answer...
Chaos ensued when the children woke (early) and ran screaming and crying from the dog ~ the newest addition to the family, a Belgian Shepard ~ as she displayed her excitement at waking to her "people." (In all fairness, I would also likely run screaming from something as tall as me, much heftier and able to wrap its mouth around my entire belly!)
The neediness by the wee ones and not-so-wee one (being the dog, not the Husband, as he had already escaped the madness under the pretense of an early meeting...) continued through breakfast. As the Big Wee One and Middle Wee One ate in mostly silence (ordered by me following the very long and loud tantrum had after I ~ selfishly ~ asked them to play while I prepared everything) and I feverishly fed the increasingly hungry Small Wee One, MWO dared ask my why *I* had no breakfast...
My reply? "Because you were not very polite nor patient this morning so I did not take time to make something for myself."
BWO and MWO at least feigned to ponder the errors of their ways before devouring the rest of their meals.
The morning proceeded with much the same flare...
All children needing something simultaneously.
The dog insisting that any and every (little boy) toy she could reach was, indeed, hers.
BWO and MWO clamoring at the dog to stop stealing toys.
Me washing SWO's toys, as that type of pet love is well beyond my tolerance.
Same dog insisting that my attempt at discipline was instead, an invitation to wrestle.
My attempt to respond to some "work" related e-mails but interrupted by squeals from any given Wee One that another Wee One was doing something Wee Ones should not do.
Multiple phones ringing simultaneously.
Banishing the dog outside and BWO and MWO to separate corners, as I could no longer manage my temper at any of their unyielding disobediences.
Workers arriving in the midst of it all.
All in all, 11 am came faster than I knew possible. And I ran! To lunch. To drink.
I kid. I didn't literally run to lunch. (smile)
But, I did escape to some adult time with (very welcomed) new friends in this new place. And, I recharged just a bit (before rushing to my Spanish lesson which started late and then rushing BWO and MWO to swim lessons).
That brings me to the next challenge of the day: Convincing MWO that he did, in fact, need to actually get in the water for his swim lesson.
The first several classes went fabulously - BWO and MWO were thrilled to go to "swim school" and come home to show off their new tricks in our pool.
And then, MWO decided he no longer wanted to go if he had to go under the water. The last class was met with defiance and then tears when he finally stated "I guess (insert emphasized sigh by a three year old) I'll just go in the water." but was dunked (with notice and instruction, mind you). I believe MWO's first words this morning regarded his intent to not go swimming at the "big pool" today, and he sure didn't forget.
Not sure of a supportive and understanding yet this-actually-is-a-necessary-skill-for-you-to-have-and-you-need-to-go encouraging approach, I spoke with the instructor regarding his fear (in my, again, less-than-eloquent Spanish...Yep, I'll make a fool of myself for my kiddos). "No problema," said the very kind and skilled with Wee Ones instructor. The instructor had a few tricks up his wetsuit sleeve, and MWO would still enjoy the class.
Excitedly, I returned to MWO to explain.
And then cajole.
And then threaten.
And then display disappointment.
His defiance continued.
He spent 3/4 of the class time sitting at the table with me asking if I was sad with him. Near the end of the session, he offered his heavily sighed resignation to getting in the water.
"Sorry buddy, it's too late. The class is almost over so you'll have to wait until next time." I replied.
And I saw tears in his eyes.
And my heart broke.
So, today was a day of failures.
Failed plan to prepare for the day in peace. Failed attempts to complete some of the rare "professional" tasks I have. Multiple failed attempts to control the dog. Even more failed attempts to effectively discipline and nurture my children.
I've said it before, and I own the trait ~ I am certainly a "Type A" personality who needs to be in control of my situations. And when, for whatever reason whether it be a dog settling in to an entirely foreign environment, life's many interruptions coming at once or the illogical behavior of toddlers, my situations go in a direction other than to successful completion I feel as if I failed.
And, this type of failure is starkly different and much more painful than any failure I felt in my past career. A bad day at work could be soothed by happy hour or simply leaving work at the end of the day.
Now, there is no change in scenery between my "work" and "escape."
I am reminded of these failures all day and night by the melt-your-heart sweet goodnight cuddles and wee faces shining with ear-to-ear grins at an accomplished somersault (on the bed...) and my recognition that these shortcomings are much more important than any bad day at work.
Now, my failures could screw up my kids' lives, scarring them permanently, causing them to think their mother is a selfish loon who was so dissatisfied with her life that she was persistently unhappy.
I don't want that to be my legacy to my children. I don't want to fail them.
I just want some balance.
And, I want things to go my way. (grin)
Trophy Wife * Yummy Mummy * Domestic Goddess * Girl in the Corner Office
One Woman's Quest to Have It All
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
So Glad I Went to College for This
Today's message is brought to you by the letter R.
R is for RANT.
(This is what years of Sesame Street will do to one's vocabulary.)
Today is one of those days.
It started last night when the new dog decided it was more comforting for her to wait out the hurricane remnants, here in the Caribbean, by pacing in the bedroom. When she was finally banished to the enclosed terrace in the wee hours of the morning, she managed to squeeze her large self through the iron bars and escape into the back yard. That would not have been much of a problem except that she then escaped to the front yard where she could, if she tried hard enough, make it to the street endangered by any number of crazed drivers or not-so-friendly dogs. So, the neighbors got a peep show as I ran from the terrace back into the house for my keys, back to the terrace to open the gate to the back yard, then to the front yard...yelling for the damn dog...in my PJ's...in the rain.
Wet dog returned to the terrace.
My first attempt to shower...foiled by the late hour and three hungry children (the nerve of them!).
Children fed and kitchen cleaned.
The oldest wee one declared that he was off to read. I requested that they all get dressed first.
An hour long tantrum ensued. How could I possibly expect this child to get ready for the day? (The nerve of me!)
The nanny arrived (more on that later, but yes, our new life contains a variety of household help) and I realized I no longer had the extra master house key.
Frantic searching, under beds, under rugs, in drawers.
The wee one's tantrum continued.
The baby needed new pants.
The wet dog needed drying.
My second attempt to shower...foiled by my attempt to talk with the nanny about the day's plan, but my still-limited knowledge of Spanish makes most conversations quite lengthy (and surely painful for others to hear).
The wee ones were clamoring to "go somepwace" as, even though we missed the brunt of Hurricane Irene, all of our weekly activities have been cancelled and the boys are going stir crazy.
More searching for the damn key.
A conversation with the nanny as she discovered the culprit of our ruined clothes as of late...Looks like we need a new washing machine. Let the fun begin with coordinating the repair through the Husband's employer.
Key recovered. A sigh of relief.
Finally, a shower.
Numerous interventions on behalf of the wee ones needed throughout the morning, as there remains a communication gap with the nanny. (In all fairness, this is just as much my shortcoming, as my Type-A always-in-control self quickly tires of hearing the repeated requests even if not directed at me.)
Long story short (well, shorter)...I have yet to accomplish one damn thing today. And, it's noon.
I'm frustrated. I'm discouraged. I'm wondering why in the hell I went to university, as I can't see that any learned skills are currently in use. Even my logical approach doesn't count because there is no logic when dealing with toddlers.
How can I argue with a three year old when he approaches me saying, "Mommy, (insert numerous and multiple variations of questions from the mind of a constantly-thinking-and-talking toddler)" and even though I respond, "Please go ask Juana" he continues, undeterred, with his repeated question?
Right now, my former knowledgeable, composed, competent, results-oriented self is so far removed that I barely remember she ever existed.
It's a good thing I can easily buy good coffee and rum...
R is for RANT.
(This is what years of Sesame Street will do to one's vocabulary.)
Today is one of those days.
It started last night when the new dog decided it was more comforting for her to wait out the hurricane remnants, here in the Caribbean, by pacing in the bedroom. When she was finally banished to the enclosed terrace in the wee hours of the morning, she managed to squeeze her large self through the iron bars and escape into the back yard. That would not have been much of a problem except that she then escaped to the front yard where she could, if she tried hard enough, make it to the street endangered by any number of crazed drivers or not-so-friendly dogs. So, the neighbors got a peep show as I ran from the terrace back into the house for my keys, back to the terrace to open the gate to the back yard, then to the front yard...yelling for the damn dog...in my PJ's...in the rain.
Wet dog returned to the terrace.
My first attempt to shower...foiled by the late hour and three hungry children (the nerve of them!).
Children fed and kitchen cleaned.
The oldest wee one declared that he was off to read. I requested that they all get dressed first.
An hour long tantrum ensued. How could I possibly expect this child to get ready for the day? (The nerve of me!)
The nanny arrived (more on that later, but yes, our new life contains a variety of household help) and I realized I no longer had the extra master house key.
Frantic searching, under beds, under rugs, in drawers.
The wee one's tantrum continued.
The baby needed new pants.
The wet dog needed drying.
My second attempt to shower...foiled by my attempt to talk with the nanny about the day's plan, but my still-limited knowledge of Spanish makes most conversations quite lengthy (and surely painful for others to hear).
The wee ones were clamoring to "go somepwace" as, even though we missed the brunt of Hurricane Irene, all of our weekly activities have been cancelled and the boys are going stir crazy.
More searching for the damn key.
A conversation with the nanny as she discovered the culprit of our ruined clothes as of late...Looks like we need a new washing machine. Let the fun begin with coordinating the repair through the Husband's employer.
Key recovered. A sigh of relief.
Finally, a shower.
Numerous interventions on behalf of the wee ones needed throughout the morning, as there remains a communication gap with the nanny. (In all fairness, this is just as much my shortcoming, as my Type-A always-in-control self quickly tires of hearing the repeated requests even if not directed at me.)
Long story short (well, shorter)...I have yet to accomplish one damn thing today. And, it's noon.
I'm frustrated. I'm discouraged. I'm wondering why in the hell I went to university, as I can't see that any learned skills are currently in use. Even my logical approach doesn't count because there is no logic when dealing with toddlers.
How can I argue with a three year old when he approaches me saying, "Mommy, (insert numerous and multiple variations of questions from the mind of a constantly-thinking-and-talking toddler)" and even though I respond, "Please go ask Juana" he continues, undeterred, with his repeated question?
Right now, my former knowledgeable, composed, competent, results-oriented self is so far removed that I barely remember she ever existed.
It's a good thing I can easily buy good coffee and rum...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
A Long Time and A Little Bit of Perspective
I'm afraid I must admit to another lapse in my search for "it all." This time, though, it wasn't my fault! (grin) Famous last words, eh?!
The past two+ months have been filled with a great deal of...chaos. Plain and simple. And chaos makes the world go 'round...(right??)
My world went to a month-long road trip, a tornado that destroyed 1/3 of my hometown including everything my parents owned and 50 years of keepsakes but thanks to some freak of nature NOT my parents (!!!!), a(nother) international move (with three kiddos, this time), transforming a(nother) new house into a home, wrangling the two elder *very*-bored-because-they're-stuck-in-the-house-all-day-since-we-didn't-have-a-car-and-can't-walk-anywhere-like-we've-done-their-entire-lives Nelson boys (read: managing alternating periods of mania and meltdowns, with the occasional angelic-I-knew-you-were-still-in-there cuddle times) and spending entirely too much time *attempting* to get things done because the internet (and therefore, our US phone) is offline more than it functions.
Throw in there a bit of time spent learning to *forget* every rule of driving I've known (whether on the right or left side of the road!) so that I could begin to navigate the insanely disordered Dominican roads, a great deal of time learning enough español so I only sound like a *somewhat* babbling idiot every single day (cue the Christmas dinner at the Asian restaurant scene in 'A Christmas Story'...fra ra ra ra raaaaa ra ra ra ra), and some time using said español to arrange activities for the niños and me...
Whew...that pretty much sums my life since leaving our last home on May 21.
The point of all these excuses??
Well, I actually did have somewhat of a revelation during this time!
Rewind to Sunday, May 22...
The Nelson men and I were on our two day drive from D.C. to southwest Missouri to visit my family before heading abroad again. We stopped in St. Louis Sunday afternoon to catch up with old friends, as that is where the Nelson story began as well as where I left my previous used-to-be-able-to-hold-an-intelligent-conversation self!
As we wrapped up a wonderful bar-b-que despite the looming black clouds overhead, we learned that a tornado had hit Joplin (afore-mentioned hometown...perhaps you heard of it). I immediately joked that surely my parents were fine - after all, I had been rushed to the safety of the bathroom no less than 5 times in the past two years of visiting and no harm ever came our way. (Not to mention the numerous times we took cover in the closet growing up.) As we drove to our hotel, I repeatedly tried to reach my Mom and Dad at home and on the cell phone. My mom's mobile often has poor service so I didn't think much of the situation until the landline rang without the answering machine.
Panic began to set in.
Then, I called every friend I have in Joplin. No answer from anyone.
Panic had fully taken over.
Then, I saw live coverage of Joplin...on The Weather Channel. Bad news...Very bad news. A mile-wide tornado. My heart dropped to my stomach and time seemed to go into slow motion and a blur, simultaneously. More attempts to reach *anyone* in Joplin. No success. Irrational plans to drive overnight through more severe weather and find.my.parents. Panic...Sickness...Fear.
I finally heard from my parents about four hours later...A static-heavy phone call filled with sobbing, frantic words, repeated I love you's. I will spare the details, partly because they are all I thought about for so long and partly because there really are no words to adequately describe that fear and chaos.
I will say, though, that the feelings of desperation and helplessness were paralyzing. I have only ever felt such panic and fear when my daughter died, and the thought of losing my parents was simply more than I could handle. And, I wasn't even the one to experience the force of the tornado.
A synopsis of the next several days: The homeless Nelson clan invaded a (gracious) friend's house in St. Louis. The elder Nelson boys had a last minute (first ever) sleepover while the babe, husband and I made a marathon day trip to rescue still-in-shock Mom and Dad. The tornadoes followed us back to St. Louis and we spent all afternoon huddled in the back corner of the basement. Frantic calls to the insurance and utilities companies. Frantic searches for a storage unit in case anything could be salvaged from the house. Panic took control again and we all traveled to Joplin to begin the long process of putting my parents' lives back together. My parents took up residence in a hotel. The still-homeless Nelsons took refuge at my friend's (very gracious) parents' house. Frantic trips to the property to recover anything possible. Frantic searches for a more permanent place to live. Attempts to have a "normal" dinner so Nana and Papa could cuddle their grandsons.
My parents were lucky. Extremely lucky. They survived in a four foot section of the hallway, "shielded" by a fallen wall, and walked away with only minor injuries...physical injuries, anyway. They were able to secure a hotel room and rental car when there are still several hundred (if not more) people living in shelters. The *F5* tornado traveled more than 12 miles, obliterated one-third of my hometown, killed more than 160 people and went directly through my parents' neighborhood.
Their home for the last 15 years, their memories and belongings from the last 40 years of marriage, my brother's and my childhood - as well as their own childhoods - their security, their comfort was merely literally a pile of debris. The house was completely destroyed. My Dad's truck sat where the family room used to be. My bed was crushed under the splintered wood that used to comprise the walls. The boys' bed set up in the office was crushed under more splintered wood. There was no sign of the fireplace that once stood in the living room.
There was no sign of so many things - large, heavy things. Yet, we found a water-logged construction paper Thanksgiving "book" I made in elementary school. The roof, siding, porches...nowhere to be found. But, the toiletries in the master bathroom were mostly untouched behind the closed cabinet door. Two ladders that leaned against a shed fell down in place but the shed and all contents are gone.
And, if the madness of the tornado itself and the following logistical nightmare weren't enough, the looting nearly pushed one over the edge...Less than 24 hours after the destruction, what remained of my Mom's jewelry was stolen, as well as my Dad's tools strewn in the yard. Even days later, more was stolen from the property as my Dad made trips to the storage unit. Price gouging became rampant, as well. Apartments that would normally rent for $350 per month were, somehow, worth nearly $1000. Waste dumpsters that cost $350 a week prior suddenly cost $700. I was beyond disgusted that people would behave so despicably.
But, we saw the best in people, as well. An *incredible* number of friends and friends-of-friends have given all of us so very much during those many weeks. A very dear friend traversed dangerous, uncleared roads to **rescue my parents** from a shelter. People opened their homes to us, traveled to do errands for us, purchased hotel rooms, rental cars, gift cards, and items to help my parents rebuild their life. I simply cannot thank everyone enough for the amazing generosity and love they have shown. My words don't seem sufficient. My family was truly touched to feel such love.
It was gut-wrenching to see the rubble that was once our house. The town looked like what I imagine a war zone must be. Seeing pictures on TV or in the news honestly did not come close to depicting the actual devastation. And, it certainly did not elicit the same emotion as seeing in person places where so many memories were made. Even though I haven't lived there for many years, now, it is still home...And it always felt the same when I would, and now my own family, visit (which are usually quite long since living abroad necessitates economical trips home!). The dining room table where we had so many holiday meals, the mantle that held my Dad's watch fob collection, my desk and end tables my Dad made (as well as many other pieces of furniture), my wedding dress, my childhood dolls, our photo albums. Everything was either gone, broken or soaked.
All that remained of our family's life did not even fill a 5' x 8' storage unit.
2011 Joplin Tornado
Ten weeks have passed, now. The ruble that was our house has been cleared away and only a flat, tree-less property remains. My parents have navigated the insurance details. They are settling into a new house, spending endless hours making repairs and finding new details to make it their home even if it has no pictures to hang and no sentiments to place. We are settling into our new home even though I still desperately want to be "home."
Despite losing so much, I was incredibly thankful...Thankful to have that nightmare instead of a worse one. Thankful to have two of my parents' three pets. Thankful to have.my.parents.
But, I also found myself thankful for my (lack of) current 'career.' I was able to spend hours a day for weeks focused on helping my parents. I was able to be in Joplin for some time. The husband wrangled the wee ones (at times, to his protest but he wrangled, nonetheless).
Had I had a "real" (read: paying) job, I would have been bound by many restrictions. And surely angry at not having flexibility.
Workplace Flexibility: Realigning 20th-century Jobs for a 21st-century Workforce
I'll be honest: The last several weeks adjusting in our new home has, once again, left me longing for pieces of my past life. But, (not so) deep down, I absolutely appreciate my current situation.
While I do not recommend experiencing an F5 tornado or its aftermath to elicit a virtual slap in the face to say "Hey lady, you ain't got it so bad" consider me virtually slapped.
The past two+ months have been filled with a great deal of...chaos. Plain and simple. And chaos makes the world go 'round...(right??)
My world went to a month-long road trip, a tornado that destroyed 1/3 of my hometown including everything my parents owned and 50 years of keepsakes but thanks to some freak of nature NOT my parents (!!!!), a(nother) international move (with three kiddos, this time), transforming a(nother) new house into a home, wrangling the two elder *very*-bored-because-they're-stuck-in-the-house-all-day-since-we-didn't-have-a-car-and-can't-walk-anywhere-like-we've-done-their-entire-lives Nelson boys (read: managing alternating periods of mania and meltdowns, with the occasional angelic-I-knew-you-were-still-in-there cuddle times) and spending entirely too much time *attempting* to get things done because the internet (and therefore, our US phone) is offline more than it functions.
Throw in there a bit of time spent learning to *forget* every rule of driving I've known (whether on the right or left side of the road!) so that I could begin to navigate the insanely disordered Dominican roads, a great deal of time learning enough español so I only sound like a *somewhat* babbling idiot every single day (cue the Christmas dinner at the Asian restaurant scene in 'A Christmas Story'...fra ra ra ra raaaaa ra ra ra ra), and some time using said español to arrange activities for the niños and me...
Whew...that pretty much sums my life since leaving our last home on May 21.
The point of all these excuses??
Well, I actually did have somewhat of a revelation during this time!
Rewind to Sunday, May 22...
The Nelson men and I were on our two day drive from D.C. to southwest Missouri to visit my family before heading abroad again. We stopped in St. Louis Sunday afternoon to catch up with old friends, as that is where the Nelson story began as well as where I left my previous used-to-be-able-to-hold-an-intelligent-conversation self!
As we wrapped up a wonderful bar-b-que despite the looming black clouds overhead, we learned that a tornado had hit Joplin (afore-mentioned hometown...perhaps you heard of it). I immediately joked that surely my parents were fine - after all, I had been rushed to the safety of the bathroom no less than 5 times in the past two years of visiting and no harm ever came our way. (Not to mention the numerous times we took cover in the closet growing up.) As we drove to our hotel, I repeatedly tried to reach my Mom and Dad at home and on the cell phone. My mom's mobile often has poor service so I didn't think much of the situation until the landline rang without the answering machine.
Panic began to set in.
Then, I called every friend I have in Joplin. No answer from anyone.
Panic had fully taken over.
Then, I saw live coverage of Joplin...on The Weather Channel. Bad news...Very bad news. A mile-wide tornado. My heart dropped to my stomach and time seemed to go into slow motion and a blur, simultaneously. More attempts to reach *anyone* in Joplin. No success. Irrational plans to drive overnight through more severe weather and find.my.parents. Panic...Sickness...Fear.
I finally heard from my parents about four hours later...A static-heavy phone call filled with sobbing, frantic words, repeated I love you's. I will spare the details, partly because they are all I thought about for so long and partly because there really are no words to adequately describe that fear and chaos.
I will say, though, that the feelings of desperation and helplessness were paralyzing. I have only ever felt such panic and fear when my daughter died, and the thought of losing my parents was simply more than I could handle. And, I wasn't even the one to experience the force of the tornado.
A synopsis of the next several days: The homeless Nelson clan invaded a (gracious) friend's house in St. Louis. The elder Nelson boys had a last minute (first ever) sleepover while the babe, husband and I made a marathon day trip to rescue still-in-shock Mom and Dad. The tornadoes followed us back to St. Louis and we spent all afternoon huddled in the back corner of the basement. Frantic calls to the insurance and utilities companies. Frantic searches for a storage unit in case anything could be salvaged from the house. Panic took control again and we all traveled to Joplin to begin the long process of putting my parents' lives back together. My parents took up residence in a hotel. The still-homeless Nelsons took refuge at my friend's (very gracious) parents' house. Frantic trips to the property to recover anything possible. Frantic searches for a more permanent place to live. Attempts to have a "normal" dinner so Nana and Papa could cuddle their grandsons.
My parents were lucky. Extremely lucky. They survived in a four foot section of the hallway, "shielded" by a fallen wall, and walked away with only minor injuries...physical injuries, anyway. They were able to secure a hotel room and rental car when there are still several hundred (if not more) people living in shelters. The *F5* tornado traveled more than 12 miles, obliterated one-third of my hometown, killed more than 160 people and went directly through my parents' neighborhood.
Their home for the last 15 years, their memories and belongings from the last 40 years of marriage, my brother's and my childhood - as well as their own childhoods - their security, their comfort was merely literally a pile of debris. The house was completely destroyed. My Dad's truck sat where the family room used to be. My bed was crushed under the splintered wood that used to comprise the walls. The boys' bed set up in the office was crushed under more splintered wood. There was no sign of the fireplace that once stood in the living room.
There was no sign of so many things - large, heavy things. Yet, we found a water-logged construction paper Thanksgiving "book" I made in elementary school. The roof, siding, porches...nowhere to be found. But, the toiletries in the master bathroom were mostly untouched behind the closed cabinet door. Two ladders that leaned against a shed fell down in place but the shed and all contents are gone.
And, if the madness of the tornado itself and the following logistical nightmare weren't enough, the looting nearly pushed one over the edge...Less than 24 hours after the destruction, what remained of my Mom's jewelry was stolen, as well as my Dad's tools strewn in the yard. Even days later, more was stolen from the property as my Dad made trips to the storage unit. Price gouging became rampant, as well. Apartments that would normally rent for $350 per month were, somehow, worth nearly $1000. Waste dumpsters that cost $350 a week prior suddenly cost $700. I was beyond disgusted that people would behave so despicably.
But, we saw the best in people, as well. An *incredible* number of friends and friends-of-friends have given all of us so very much during those many weeks. A very dear friend traversed dangerous, uncleared roads to **rescue my parents** from a shelter. People opened their homes to us, traveled to do errands for us, purchased hotel rooms, rental cars, gift cards, and items to help my parents rebuild their life. I simply cannot thank everyone enough for the amazing generosity and love they have shown. My words don't seem sufficient. My family was truly touched to feel such love.
It was gut-wrenching to see the rubble that was once our house. The town looked like what I imagine a war zone must be. Seeing pictures on TV or in the news honestly did not come close to depicting the actual devastation. And, it certainly did not elicit the same emotion as seeing in person places where so many memories were made. Even though I haven't lived there for many years, now, it is still home...And it always felt the same when I would, and now my own family, visit (which are usually quite long since living abroad necessitates economical trips home!). The dining room table where we had so many holiday meals, the mantle that held my Dad's watch fob collection, my desk and end tables my Dad made (as well as many other pieces of furniture), my wedding dress, my childhood dolls, our photo albums. Everything was either gone, broken or soaked.
All that remained of our family's life did not even fill a 5' x 8' storage unit.
 |
| The remnants of my parents' 2000 sq. ft. house |
Ten weeks have passed, now. The ruble that was our house has been cleared away and only a flat, tree-less property remains. My parents have navigated the insurance details. They are settling into a new house, spending endless hours making repairs and finding new details to make it their home even if it has no pictures to hang and no sentiments to place. We are settling into our new home even though I still desperately want to be "home."
Despite losing so much, I was incredibly thankful...Thankful to have that nightmare instead of a worse one. Thankful to have two of my parents' three pets. Thankful to have.my.parents.
But, I also found myself thankful for my (lack of) current 'career.' I was able to spend hours a day for weeks focused on helping my parents. I was able to be in Joplin for some time. The husband wrangled the wee ones (at times, to his protest but he wrangled, nonetheless).
Had I had a "real" (read: paying) job, I would have been bound by many restrictions. And surely angry at not having flexibility.
Workplace Flexibility: Realigning 20th-century Jobs for a 21st-century Workforce
I'll be honest: The last several weeks adjusting in our new home has, once again, left me longing for pieces of my past life. But, (not so) deep down, I absolutely appreciate my current situation.
While I do not recommend experiencing an F5 tornado or its aftermath to elicit a virtual slap in the face to say "Hey lady, you ain't got it so bad" consider me virtually slapped.
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