December 29th

Credit: Ivana Cajina via Unsplash

It occurred to me that this, this Right Here, is the first real time off I've had since I started working.  There were two days when I had to be absent while taking a child for a Covid test and awaiting the negative results, and there was one time I left a little early in order to sign our lease, and again a day I left a little early to arrange passport paperwork.  None of these really count as 'time off' in my books.  There were several days in a row I took off in order to be home with the children while David relaxed in the hospital pre-heart surgery.  Very relaxing, that.  But this time right now, this is my first real 'vacation'.

I'm spending it catching up on stuff.  

One of the first issues on the docket has been The Parking Problem.  It goes a little something like this.  We pay a lot of money for an apartment the size of a sneeze.  Said apartment does NOT come with parking.  Shocker.  You can, however, PAY more money on TOP of your rent for a parking space.  I believe it's something like $120 a month more for an outdoor space and $170 for an indoor space.  Something like that.  Whatever it is, it's  insane.  The outside spots won't actually FIT our minivan and I don't think it would be possible to back the sucker up.  The indoor spots are beside the dumpsters and are, if this is possible, even smaller than the outside ones. Smelly and Miniscule.

So...I went on a search for a Better Option, and I discovered the Baptist Church just down the road rented out their parking spots, which were the size of ACTUAL parking spots, for $90.  It means walking about 2 minutes down the road, but still...I'll do a lot of stuff to save $30.  The thing is that to get a parking spot we had to do a song and dance.  First, get them to respond to our enquiries, which finally happened.  They sent us the list of information they needed to create a parking pass, plus the email address to transfer the money to for the first month, plus the waiver owe had to sign and return electronically.

Issue the first!  No ink in the printer.  Off I go in my pajamas to the office supply store and back on the bus.  Why the bus, you ask?  BECAUSE WE DON'T HAVE PARKING SO THE CAR IS AT MY MOTHER IN LAW'S SO WE DON'T GET TOWED.  Back home, install the ink, print the waiver, signy signy.

Issue the second!  The scanner driver has been deleted by...someone?  Something?  Who even knows.  Spend time trying to get scanner to work, can't figure it out, attempt to take a picture of the waiver instead.  Can only take a picture on my phone, so email to David, who then attaches to the email.

Issue the third!  What...is our license plate number again?  Dig out insurance paperwork, dig out everything, cannot find it!  Twenty minutes later...there it is at last.

Filled out, sent, deposit e-transferred.  Now we wait to hear back, I suppose.  In the meantime today was Do All The Laundry And Pay All The Bills Day.  It's my least favourite day.  One child complained that I was using their computer time to pay bills, and I gave them a nice, motherly lecture on how I was paying hydro...so the computer would work.  And paying internet...so the computer would work.  And paying renter's insurance...so the computer had somewhere to live.  Obviously they listened intently, understood intrinsically what I was getting at, and have changed their ways for the better.  They did NOT, clearly, roll their eyes at their mother and say "Yes, YES I GET IT".  Because that would be wrong.

The Return

We moved, and we are here.  The move itself was long and hard and is blessedly already fading into memory and the edges of it are becoming fuzzy.  We arrived in the city, and stayed about 6 weeks with David's mother, which was also very challenging for everyone.  And then we signed a lease for a very tiny apartment, and we moved here.  Some of our stuff is here.  Much of it is not here and I still feel like we're camping out a bit with mattresses on the floor and such.  It's slow.

I've been at my job for about 2 months now.  It's fine - I don't love it but I don't hate it with a passion or anything.  I do my work, I come home, I get paid.  

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A few years ago I had a bout with agoraphobia.  For a few months it was almost impossible to leave my house, and even within my home I felt unsteady, unsafe and uncertain.  It was a deeply unhappy time for our whole family, and although I got better, it left its mark on me.

I feel that same unsteady, uncertain, unsafe feeling these days as well.  To some extent, this makes sense; after all everything in my life is completely different than it used to be a short time ago, and the pressures on me are fairly intense.  Especially intense for someone who lives with an anxiety disorder.  I have had brief, fleeting moments of wanting to hide, wanting to run away, wanting to curl up and not answer the phone or the door or the emails.  They have passed, but they might return.  I've also been very sad and depressed and overwhelmed these past two months - feelings that have been increasing as time goes on.  Some of this is likely my over-extending myself, some of it is my own perfectionism, some of it is probably forgetting to take medications on time, the extreme heat and humidity that make sleeping almost impossible, the lack of access to my counsellor, my current convenience-food-based diet, and any number of other factors.  

I've lived with my anxiety and depression for decades, and I know my brain and body very well by this point.  I don't **think** I'm heading for another downward spiral, but I know the signs to look for if I am.  Some days I feel like I have some space, some margin still there on the edges, and some days I feel like I'm moving around covered by a wet wool blanket.  It will pass, but it will pass like a glacier, leaving lots of potholes behind it.

What does a Christian do in this sort of situation, you wonder?  It's probably easier to say what a Christian SHOULDN'T do.  Or perhaps what I shouldn't do.  I shouldn't berate myself for a prayer life that has been stripped to the bare bones of "Lord, help, help, help".  I shouldn't refuse the small, insignificant step towards the light because it isn't the big, impressive one.  I shouldn't feel guilty for realizing that in every relationship, even one with the divine, a time comes when one party is completely coasting.  I am coasting.  God knows this, and I know this, and it is okay.  Eat the food, even if the food is a spoonful of cheez whiz.  Drink the liquid, even if the liquid is flat diet coke.  Sleep, even if you sleep in the clothes you wore all day.  Live the next day, the next step, the next breath - and do so, if necessary, cranky, unshowered, ignorant and tearful.  Coast, dear friend - it's okay.

All the same, I'm not quite so mired in shadow at the moment that I can't feel a desire for joy.  I've been trying to grasp tiny slivers of it as I see them.  I've been walking the dog, because exercise and sunshine are good for me, and walking down all the hidden slices of the city.  Today I found a secret garden, and this evening I went to it as well.  I have no idea if it's allowed, but I dug my hands in the dirt and weeded the beds and straightened the vines.  We'll go back tomorrow and do it again, breathing in the dirt smell, until someone tells us not to.  Considering the neglected state the vegetables were in, I think it's more likely they'll return to clear the beds in October and discover with amazement that 'fairies' were there before.  I might even hang up a bird feeder.

And I find joy in writing, so there may very well be more blogging around here for the next little while, as I process all the changes and come to a new equilibrium.  

Septoplasty & Turbinoplasty - A Very Long and Detailed (And Very Graphic) Account of Surgery

Skip ahead if you don't like details about people get their faces cut open.  Or at least me getting my face cut open.  I dunno.  People have asked me to describe the procedure and what helped/didn't help so this is that.

On May 12th, at about noon, I got a septoplasty and a turbinoplasty to fix my severely deviated septum and let me breathe again.  I wanted it done before we moved in June, and I'd been trying to have this procedure for over two years now.  Here's a good image of the inside of your face.  If it's normal.  Which mine is not.  But anyway, you can see that you have three sets of turbinates and one septum.

Here's a good image of what a normal septum looks like, and a deviated septum.

So a septoplasty is a procedure where you have the septum partly removed (if it is too damaged to save), or straightened.  A turbinoplasty reduces the size of the turbinates inside your nose.  I'm not going to go into details because 1) I don't want to and 2) Just google it but it is gross to watch - FYI

To start with, a lot of people told me how they got these procedures done and they regretted it and everything was awful.  So, that was fun to hear.  You know, when someone tells you that they are getting elective surgery to fix a longstanding and painful problem and that they will now have the chance to breathe normally for the first time in living memory, you don't say how terrible their choices are.  C'mon, humans.

When I saw my ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat Dr.) he ordered a CAT Scan to make sure everything was where it should be and so forth.  It was, so he booked me for four weeks in the future.  Four weeks was good!  Very soon!  Woohoo!  I started making preparations.  Here's what I bought/did:

Vaseline Healing Jelly with Cocoa Butter - For keeping my lips and nostrils moist, since I would be breathing out of my mouth alone and my lips would chap, and I would be bleeding continuously from my nose so I figured my nostrils would chap.

Arnica Cream - For helping with swelling and bruising.  I bought A535 Brand.   I think that's also for muscle soreness, which actually also applied for this situation so hurrah for multitasking.

I had flexible cooling pads in the fridge, and also clean, wet washcloths kept cold, too.  

A HydraSense Neti Rinse with an extra package of saline powder.  Enough to wash out that nose for days and daaaaays on end. 

Extra Strength Advil and Acetominophen, just in case one was better than another.  I tend to be an Advil person, but doctors always seem to suggest Tylenol, so better to be prepared.

I already owned a humidifier - A Sunbeam brand warm mist one.  I sterilized it and set it up.

A comfortable recliner I could sleep upright in.

I also boiled a big jug of water for 10 minutes and let it cool for my Neti Rinse kit.

The week before the procedure I stopped taking all my medications that might affect the surgery, and the night before I took the last dose of the steroid spray I've been using for years to let me inhale through my nose.  I fasted from midnight the night before - from food and liquid.  And the day of I only took my two inhalers for my asthma - my maintenance inhaler that I take twice a day anyway, and then a shot of my Ventalin emergency inhaler just to make my lungs especially open for intubation.  I also bathed very thoroughly and did not use any lotions, creams, hair products, anything afterwards.  I didn't wear my glasses or any jewelry or makeup.  I also took two Covid tests - one 5 days before, and one 2 days before.  Just to be especially safe.

My surgery was scheduled for 12:15.  I was asked to arrive at 10am.  I was asked all the usual Covid screening questions, sterilized my hands, and switched my fabric mask for a new surgical mask.  Then I went to day surgery and signed in.  I waited for maybe ten minutes before the nurse took me back to the change rooms, asked me the Covid screening questions again, gave me a hospital gown to change into and a robe to put overtop and booties.  I put all of my clothing into labeled, sealed bags and she put them in a locker.  I had also brought my insurance card and a baggie with all my prescription medications.  And a book.  Everything but the book went into the locker.  Then I went back out to the waiting room with all the other people sitting around in pjs to be called back.

After about 30 minutes or so they called me back to the triage nurse.  She asked me all the Covid screening questions yet again, verified all of my registration info, weighed me, measured me, took my blood pressure, temperature and heart rate, made a detailed list of medications again, and then led me to the day surgery ward.  That had me go to the bathroom again, and then got me into a bed.  I was there for maybe 15 minutes and then a nurse arrived and we started The Great IV Debacle.

I hate hand IVs.  Hate them.  My veins are very deep inside my body and it never ever goes well.  So first we tried the left hand, and it HUUURT and then the we blew the vein.  So that didn't go well.  So then we tried the right hand and she gave me a shot of Lidocaine first and that did almost nothing but there was a lot of rummaging around with the needle (I assume.  This is what it felt like but I sure the heck wasn't watching.) And eventually it went in a vein and stayed in the vein and Hallelujah that was over.

The anaesthetist came in and asked me a bunch of questions.  The ENT came in, we said hello, he went off to do his thing, everyone left.  Then the anaesthetist came back, handed me a few warmed blankets and had me walk with him to the theatre.  I walked in and put the blankets on the bed and took off my robe but kept on my gown, but undid it.  Then I laid down on the bed and they put one heated blanket over my body and another under my calves and raised my legs slightly.  There was the anaesthetist, two nurses, and the surgeon in the room.  They had me spread out my arms on the table and hooked my IV up to a saline bag.  

I commented that I felt a little light-headed and the anaesthetist laughed and said that was because he had slipped me a little something when I wasn't looking.  I assume this was standard because I certainly wasn't nervous or anything and in need of 'calming'.  Then the nurse put an oxygen mask on my face.  I breathed deeply through my mouth - it was just oxygen.  Then they said 'okay, we're all ready now Amy.' and I said 'okay, bye.' and then that was it. 

My understanding was that the surgery lasted between 30-45 minutes.

I woke up in a different bed, with my head raised, in a curtained off room with a nurse.  She said "Hello!" and beyond that I don't remember much of our initial conversation.  As I woke up I was in a lot of different kinds of pain.  The nurse explained that my neck and shoulders hurt because they position you oddly for surgery.  My jaw and throat hurt because of the intubation.  And I had my standard level of facial migraine pain through my teeth, cheeks, eyes and forehead.  I'm used to that particular pain but if you aren't that would be something to remember.  And then of course my nose hurt quite a bit.  It was about a 6-7 on the pain scale.  Very, very sore, but not agony or anything.  I really wanted pain medication, but I was not in a panic over getting it, if that gives you any idea.  I said I hurt, and the nurse gave me Fentanyl in my IV and two of...something.  I think they were Advil.  I think.  I'm not sure, though.  But they were either Advil or Tylenol.  I also got some ice chips and then a glass of ginger ale.  I was in that room for just under an hour or so.

My oxygen levels kept dropping and the nurse was worried about this, so I went on and off an oxygen mask for a while.  This might have had something to do with the Fentanyl, since I'm really not great with drugs, but eventually everything stabilized enough to move me from the post-surgery recovery room, back to the same day surgery ward I had started from.  I was wheeled there in my bed, but I could get out of bed and into the new bed on my own.  My IV was detached but the port stayed in my hand at this point.  I was awake but still groggy and woozy and I had some more ice chips.  I also got up and went to the bathroom.  The nurse shadowed me on the way there, but I walked back on my own.  And my second bathroom trip was entirely solo.  They changed my bandages under my nose, and someone helped me to get dressed because I was not allowed to lower my head.  At this point my pain was probably about a 4.  At about 4:30 (so 2 and a half hours or so) after arriving in the ward, they gave me my prescription sheet from the doctor, had me sign my release paperwork, called my husband to tell him I was released, and called a porter.  The porter wheeled me in a wheelchair to the door of my car, and David helped me in.  

On the way home the pain kept going down, and by the time I was home it was at about 1-2, and remained at that level until 4:30 the next morning, when it went up to about a 3-4 again, and I took 2 extra strength Tylenol.  I had been prescribed some Tylenol with codeine but I didn't need any.

I probably went to the bathroom ten or so times in the first few hours, as my body flushed out the saline solution and all the extra fluid I was drinking to help my throat.  Although honestly my throat wasn't that bad after the first few swallows.  By the following morning it was essentially back to normal.  I used my cooling packs on my face and ran the humidifier constantly beside my recliner - where I also slept.  It was fine.

The most challenging part of the recovery BY FAR was the nose packing.  So, my nose was entirely packed with what were essentially tampons, the strings of which were taped to my face.  And then under my nose was extra gauze taped to my face to catch the blood that flowed constantly out of my nose.  The tampons (they weren't called this, but let's be real here...they were tampons) were there to provide structure and support to the surgical site and also slow the blood flow and give pressure to the wounds.  But they didn't stop the bleeding by any stretch of the imagination.  I bled out of my nostrils and also out of the back of my throat, and there was even dried blood from my eyes.  It was all just blood everywhere.  I scared the children.  Anyway, the packing made you feel very suffocated and I did have a bit of anxiety around this sensation, as I had been warned.  I had been told not to be clearing the clots from your nose, but the large blood clots flowed down the back of my throat so I spit them out anyway.  But technically the rules were not to try and clear your throat or nose.

The nose packing also prevented you from tasting your food, so everything was very bland.  And you couldn't move your face normally to chew or breathe while you ate, and I could only open my mouth an inch or so, so I would NOT suggest trying to eat food in FRONT of OTHER PEOPLE.  Maybe wear a bib and take very tiny bites.  In short, I was allowed to eat whatever I liked, but actually it was very challenging to do so.  Also, I did attempt fizzy drinks and they hurt so I didn't do that again.  Parts of the inside of my mouth were also numb, specifically behind my top front teeth.  I assumed this was temporary nerve damage from the surgery, which was expected and would resolve itself.

Day 2

The first night was a bit restless, and I had one episode of post-anaesthetic shaking, which resolved in a few minutes.  But I woke up clear-headed and feeling good about the day.  I took another 2 extra strength Tylenol in the morning and spent all day sitting in the chair, trying to drink lots of water and breathe the humid air.  I was sore and uncomfortable, but not in pain, and I used my ice packs a lot.  This day I started to sneeze a lot, which increased the pressure in my nose and I had to sneeze out of my mouth.  Despite doing my best not to sneeze out my nose, I still managed to force a lot of thick, bloody mucous out of my nostrils.  I wasn't supposed to touch inside my nose at all (not that I really could, what with the tampons) but I did clean up with gentle dabbing and careful and judicious use of a warm, wet cotton swab.  I also found myself coughing up quite a bit to clear my lungs, which I expected and was pleased to see.

I managed lunch, which I ate by not chewing, and took some more Tylenol.  I dozed a bit.  In the late afternoon the swelling and discomfort had really gone up, so I finally broke and took a Tylenol with codeine.  I also brushed my teeth, which wasn't as easy as you'd think when you can't open your mouth, and took a bath and put on clean pjs.  I knew Day 2 would be worse than Day 1, and it was.  The pain was around a 4 for much of the day, and I coughed and sneezed constantly.  While the active bleeding was essentially over, there was a lot of mucus and clotting going on.  I went through a lot of under the nose bandaging.  Day 2 was when I started counting down the hours before I could take out the nasal packing.  The Tylenol with codeine did almost nothing for my pain, so I took two extra strength Advil before falling asleep at around midnight.

Day 3

Unlike the first night of broken sleep, I had six straight hours on the second night and woke up really refreshed.  I also woke up looking like a spittle bug because oh my land can your body ever produce a lot of face liquid after surgery.  I will spare you the details but man.  Maaaaaaaaan.  I sounded a lot better, though, and could open my mouth about halfway now.  My throat was back to being a bit sore, but the bleeding had essentially stopped completely and I started giving myself time 'off' without the gauze on my face, which was nice.  Around 10am I needed 2 extra strength Advil again, mostly to manage the nerve pain in my teeth, upper lip and palate, and the slightly sore throat.  I should point out that the soreness of my throat at this point was likely more due to increased coughing to clear my lungs and all the breathing through my mouth.

I didn't need to sleep as much today, but did nap for an hour in the afternoon.  I went and stood in the sunshine outside again, ate well, had another bath, and generally tried to take care of myself and rest.  My sneezing was still happening, but not quite as much.  My front teeth and palate hurt more, and I looked it up and found that it was a very common side effect to the septoplasty.  I took two more Advil around 4:30pm.  I was sore again by about 10pm, but didn't want to take more medication, so I used my cold packs on my face.  By the evening I could open my mouth about 3/4 of the way.

Overnight things were hard.  The pain in my teeth/mouth/jaw/throat was stronger - up to about a 3-4.  I ended up taking 2 more Advil around 1:30 am after 90 minutes or so of restless sleep.  The pain never really went away but I did fall asleep again after 3am.

Day 4

Very excited to remove my nasal packing today!  The hospital had told me to wait 72 hours, and I timed that off of surgery start time, which was somewhere around noon on Wednesday.  Therefore, noon on Saturday I could remove it.  I couldn't wait that long, though, so pretty much first thing in the morning, around 7am, I removed it.  Here's how that went!

The nurse in the hospital told me that I should stand in the shower for a few minutes to steam everything and make it all soft, so I did that.  There were two strings attached to the bridge of my nose by a piece of tape.  When the tape was removed the strings would dangle out of my nostrils.  They were attached to the aforementioned 'nose tampons'.  I was supposed to slowly pull the string and the packing would slide out.  I had to do this IN the shower.  My two worries about the removal process were as follows: 

1) What if the string broke and I had to try and rummage around in there and that sounds horrible. 

2) What if the movement disturbs scabs or something and I start bleeding heavily again? 

Removing the packing did not hurt at all, although it was a little uncomfortable.  They slid very easily out and there was no blood at all.  I debated whether it was better to pull them both out or one at a time, and opted for one at a time, with the right one first since my septum was deviated to the left and I figured that one would be the worst to take out.  But honestly they were both fine.  I also mixed up a bottle of saline solution in my Neti Rinse bottle with some purified water, and brought that into the shower with me.  After I took out both nostril packing things, I thoroughly rinsed my nose and sinuses out with the sterile saline.  I was gentle, and I didn't want to disturb any scabbing - only a small amount of mucus came out.

After my nose was all cleaned out, I could breathe right away.  I mixed up another Neti Rinse bottle and used that over the sink, and then I used cotton swabs to very carefully wipe the outside of my nostrils of anything that came out.  You can't blow your nose or pick anything out or in any way go into your nostrils afterwards, so this was my only real solution for cleaning it out.

I took especial care on this third day after surgery do not do anything too physically demanding because I didn't want my bleeding to resume.  I also continued throughout the day to wash out my sinuses with the NetiRinse and to use the Vaseline around my nostrils.  

 - I'll stop here, and update later about the remainder of week one. -

Summer Stress

I am this turtle.  Both anxious as heck and also incredibly slow and paralyzed by summer.  And wanting to climb into my shell.

The first week of July - done!

I try not to wish away the days in life, so to speak, but enjoy each time for what it is.  On the other hand, summer is an incredibly stressful, anxious, overwhelming, hot, humid time of my calendar year so...I'm counting the days.

Once everyone else is firmly ensconced in public school again, and the vacationers have fled cottage country, then I feel as if I can take a deep breath and start to live freely once more.  The air is cooler, the pressure to Have A Fun Summer !!!!!  is gone, the excitement of a new school year is starting up, and just generally everything is much happier and calmer and nicer.

I'm very sensitive to the 'fun summer' intensity, which hits me as hard as some people seem to be pressured to have excellent, amazing vacations.  I've been thinking a lot about it and here's why I think that is:

1) I'm in Canada, at a latitude where winter is long and harsh and dark and the summer is hot and damp and very light out.  For some people this might indicate a propensity towards seasonal affective disorder; in me it's the total opposite - Summer Affective Disorder.  Thoughts include "Oh my goodness there are only two months of summer I have to make them count!" and "Stuff exciting plans into every space they might fit before it's too late!" and "You are failing to make happy memories!!"  Oddly enough, winter is pretty chill and relaxing.  It's hard to feel pressured to do much when the sun sets at 4pm and it's -35C outside.

2) I'm a homeschooler, so I spend a lot of time planning lessons and executing lessons and explaining lessons and, and, and.  School is my focus.  There isn't school in the summer.  The children want a vacation and I can't blame them.  I'm adrift in a sea of uselessness but also a nice frisson of invigorating panic underlying it all as I prepare for the next school year.  This is sarcasm - I'm not invigorated by the panic.

3) The things we 'have' to do are all around summer.  Pretty much all of them.  My tension starts with filing taxes in the Spring and ends with hosting the Women's Conference at our church at the end of September, but in between those two bookends are all the meetings, expected trips, visiting, 'vacations', etc.  We have to go to conference.  We have to get to the Big City to visit Grandma.  We have to get to family camp.  We have to get to this other meeting over here!  David has to go to this conference in Ohio.  We have to volunteer at Canada Day.  Etc.

4) I live far from family, so there are Expectations.  Further to the above point, even if nothing is said there is a sense of expectation to summer visiting.  That we will make it to family, to spend time there.  Even if we can't.  When my parents lived on the East Coast it would have taken at least two full days of driving to get there and so we never visited them at all.  I felt guilty about this every summer - I SHOULD get in a car that barely runs and drive for twenty four hours and see them!  I SHOULD!

5)  More expectations!  That we will attend family camp like we have in previous years and that it will be amazing and the children will LOVE IT and make so many happy memories.  That we will get our family picture taken again and it will be wonderful and everyone will be so happy.  That we will visit the beach as often as humanly possible, even though it means taking time off work, because that's what parents do when they want their kids to be happy.  That we will spend $10 several times a week at the ice cream store in town.  That we will shell out for soccer gear so the kids can all play soccer, which we will sign them up for in the next town over because our town has decided they don't host teams anymore.  And also baseball.  And also day camp!  That we will host guests at our home.  That we will have bonfires.  That we will take time off from work to do 'fun things!' like...who knows!  FUN THINGS DARN IT.

6)  It's hot, and humid, which is horrible and gross and everything is damp or rotting and the bugs.  The. Bugs.  No one can sleep even with heavy curtains because it isn't dark until, like, 10pm.  And even when it IS dark it is so blasted hot no one can sleep anyway.  The splinters in hands and feet, the bug bites, the sunburns (I forgot to put sunscreen on ears!  They will get skin cancer and it is all my fault!), the blisters, the heat rashes, the cuts, the bruises from falling off bikes, the endless begging for popsicles and drinks of water (What if they are dehydrated!!!???), the headaches from heat and lack of sleep, the stomachaches from heat and lack of sleep, the grouchiness from heat (What if everyone gets heat stroke!!??) and lack of sleep, the yelling after people to put on a hat.

7)  The MONEY.  Hundreds of dollars for camp fees and sports fees and spontaneous trips to air conditioned movie theatres and hot dogs from chip trucks and the ridiculously priced flea medication I have to give the cat every month so he DOESN'T get fleas (I mean, is it made of GOLD??) and the car maintenance I insist on because if you're driving a thousand round trip kilometres you want to make sure the widget doesn't implode or whatever happens to cars that makes them stop moving forward in a timely manner.

8) All the pictures and reminders of other people 'doing fun things in the summer'.  A long litany of people's camping pictures and camp pictures and photo essays on the glory that is canoeing somewhere and doing fun fantastic stuff in remote and glorious locales.  "Are WE going there, mom?"  "No.  We're not going there."  "Why NOT?!  Doesn't it look fun!!??"

9)  The sheer amount of time and mental space it takes to do things when you are pushing through a heavy fog of anxiety all day long.  The week long cleaning and list making and packing necessary to go away for two days with everyone in tow.  The budgeting.  The trying to keep things at a reasonable level of clean when three children, having a 'fun summer' are spending a lot of time dumping a mixture of bubble solution and purple juice and mud all over your floor every moment of the day.  Trying to find a movie everyone will agree on so that they will stay out of the heat from noon until 2, at least.  Trying to find an SPF60 sunscreen that people say doesn't cause cancer.

So I suppose it makes sense that I'm tense in the summer, what with hemorrhaging money and feeling this panicked sense of Required Fun Times, especially in terms of giving the kids a "Nice Summer".

Do you know what I did as a kid in the summer?  Mostly read books.  I don't remember where I got the books because we certainly didn't have the finances to just be buying books constantly, even if we'd had a bookstore right near the house, which we also didn't have.  But I still remember books and I do faintly also recall a travelling bookmobile so perhaps some of them came from there?  I also remember being outside a lot, running through the sprinkler, making forts in the backyard, picking flowers.  There were sometimes trips to a public park that involved getting to swim in the outdoor pool.  This was not frequent but greatly looked forward to.  My parents sometimes barbequed things outside, mostly hamburgers if I remember correctly.  Very occasionally chicken or steak or something.  Once a summer we went out of the city for a week or two and traveled up to the family cottage, used by all our family, and stayed there as a vacation.

If my parents felt any sort of pressure to provide me with a fun summer they certainly didn't show it.  My father worked, and that didn't change over the summer, and my mother stayed home, and that didn't change over the summer.  We had essentially the exact same life as during the school year except that we didn't have anything like school to go to.  I always enjoyed the return of the school year because I could see my friends again and have a plan for the day.

Early Summer Nostalgia

Every once in a while I still get caught in the sweeping undertow of nostalgia for the life we (and I) used to have.  I think there's this unfortunate belief that Christians are just constantly happy all the time with wherever they live and, uh, that's not reality.  No, losing my old neighbourhoods and ways of life have been a tangible loss for me; a deep missing that I still feel, although not all the time, but especially in the summer.  It's getting warmer, and the sky is light for longer, and I was not surprised to discover a sense of sadness the other day when I left the children's swimming lessons and drove home.

I was raised in a city, you see.  I loved the city.  I know many people have dreams of leaving the 'urban sprawl' and setting up the little homestead lifestyle, but I did not.  I really enjoyed our holidays in the countryside, but I also really loved my life in the city as well.  When I went to university, it was in another city, and it follows that I met my husband in a city, we were married in a city, and we lived in a city.  Because he had also, you see, been raised in a city.

And let me tell you, cities are great.  They're amazing places.  They have architecture, and hidden neighbourhoods to explore and there are always new things to see and restaurants to try.  And museums!  Boy, I love museums.  And my husband loves movies, which are also great in cities because those city theatres get all the indie films and the niche films and the IMAX films and the documentaries.  You learn so much in a city - there are always lectures to attend or new people to meet and learn from.  And there are nice, big libraries and beautiful parks with things like baseball diamonds that are maintained and also that have TEAMS playing ON them!  And swimming pools! And ethnic grocery stores so you could possibly make a recipe that calls for an unusual ingredient!  Perhaps most of all, cities have choice.  If you don't like that cab company, you try a different cab company.  If you don't like that walking trail, you walk on a different trail.  You never have to say 'this is the only place to buy toothpaste, so if I need to buy toothpaste, I have to do so here.'  In a city, there are probably 200 places to buy toothpaste and half a dozen specialty stores with weird natural toothpaste brands and also at least a few seminars on how to make your own toothpaste and probably a farmer's market to buy it if you don't feel like making it and, and, and.

So that's a long love note to cities right there.  Which may not make sense if you knew me because...I don't live in a city and haven't for about 10 years now.

Shortly after we got married my husband and I moved for his school/work, and we moved from a big, vibrant, cosmopolitan city to...a town of about 4000 people.  It was a huge culture shock for me, let me tell you.  I don't even think I could explain how lost I felt for the first few years we lived there.  If I couldn't buy it at Walmart, it was almost as if it didn't exist for me.  There were three grocery stores in town, a small mall with...I can't even remember the stores, but nothing so exotic as a food court or anything, just a few little stores, and a thrift store, and a Walmart.  There were a couple of diners, and a McDonald's, that sort of thing.  I have trouble bringing up in my mind what stores there were now.  A hardware store?  And I can remember this intense sense of loss; where WAS I?  What was happening here?  Where was...where was LIFE?  It was very grey, especially in the winter, and I felt very little happiness about our surroundings.  At first we lived in an apartment, which was horrible, but eventually managed to move to a house with a backyard.  And about four years in to our stay in that town, which I never got used to by the way, even though everyone said I would, my husband was called to a church.

In a village of approximately 600 people.

Fortunately I could see better now why God had us move to that first town!  Comparatively speaking, going from 4000 to 600 was much easier than going from millions and millions to 4000.  Still, there were some more adjustments.  Now there was only one small grocery store.  There was a smaller, small town library.  There wasn't a hospital anymore, or a dentist or a vet in town.  Everything now required a drive.  I joked for a while that the next place he would bring me would be, like, three houses on a stretch of highway.

We have lived in this village for almost six years now, and in some ways it HAS gotten easier, or at least more familiar, but never comfortable.  After ten years away from the city you would think I would be thoroughly 'countrified', but I am most assuredly not.  I haven't embraced snowmobiling or owning a large dog or clothing in a camouflaged pattern.  I miss the city intensely, but at the same time I have had a few opportunities to be in large cities over the past few years, and I find them overwhelming in so many ways.  I'm not used to the press of a hundred people in a subway car anymore.  I'm not used to the huge amount of grime on everything, and the panhandlers, and the endless garbage and the TRAFFIC.  When I leave, it's with this frustrated sadness now because the city life I love is almost closed to me - I can't belong there because I've been away too long, and I can't belong here because my heart has always stayed in this semi-mythical past city that doesn't exist anymore.  

What sometimes hits me is realizing that my children are country children.  They've never lived in a city.  They haven't had the childhood I had, which I've also mythologized as some sort of Childhood Idyll.  My children say things like "Look at all the deer!" on the way to the grocery store.  And I can't stand when people tell me how 'lucky' we are to live here, even though I also say that to people, but I take it from others to mean "how lucky you are to live here, as opposed to in that terrible, horrible urban wasteland." And I wonder to myself if they have even lived in a city.  If they've seen what fireworks on Canada Day look like when they are put on in a big, impressive, thirty-minute, non stop display.  Or what it's like to order in a restaurant where the entire menu is in another language.  Or if they've gone exploring and found something new every single time, even in their own neighbourhood.  How can that be the terrible, horrible city?  When I say how lucky we are to live here, I mean 'How fortunate, that this place we live in, is such a clean, nice place to live', but I don't mean 'This is my favourite place.  This is the place I would be, if I could be anywhere.'

The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

My husband has just returned from a (hopefully relaxing or at least vaguely encouraging) trip to Cleveland, Ohio with several of his close friends, to attend the Basics Conference.  He deserved a break from everything else going on in life, and it is truly his last hurrah before starting on the two full time courses he is working on this summer, so I didn't begrudge him the trip.  But...ugh...if you've been the parent at home alone with the children for days on end you know of what I speak.  Ugh.

He left after church, and that first night I said to myself I said 'Amy, let's try and be fun okay?  Don't be all crazy like and sobby.  No one likes that.  Stop being a bum.'  And I inquired with false cheerfulness what everyone would like to do and it turns out that was play with my make-up.  And put it on me as well.  We all looked like slightly worse-for-wear college kids after a party.  Then we had hamburgers, which were part of my plan to buy all the easy food possible and feed it to the children.  I let them play video games and listen to tapes of Adventures in Odyssey and watch Paddington Bear and fill up the bathtub way too high for baths, and then I put them to bed and thought about how much more relaxing my life would be if I drank.  Just kidding.  Sort of.

I had stocked up on face masks the last time we were in town so I was well prepared to occupy myself with this:

I love these sorts of beauty products.  Are you kidding me?  Rub gold stuff all over my face AND look 'fresher'.  Can't beat that advertising for $3.19.

And I roasted a chicken, because I am on a crazy restrictive diet for very boring reasons I won't get into and one of the things I CAN easily and safely eat is chicken.  And I didn't need to be getting all hangry and sobbing into a cup of cashew milk.  So my evening was:  rub gold on my face, eat some chicken, and call a friend who knew the woes of the minister's wife and was happy to avoid watching Game of Thrones with her husband and chat with me instead.  I had emergency anxiety back-up, too - a laptop that played dvds and the complete series of Bless Me Father.  Just in case it was lonely all by myself.

The whole three days was essentially that, on repeat.

But then he came back and we had one long, glorious day just us as a family before we have been thrust into the chaos of a 7yo birthday, the start of two university courses, a complete renovation of the church office, and all the other odds and ends of life.

I need to stock up on more weird face masks.

Stress

It's been a challenge here in the last week - the children are shrieking and fighting when they're not making huge messes (I'm looking at the mop water all over my kitchen floor right now) and refusing to sleep or eat.  "It's a stage, it's a stage, it's a stage" is my constant mental refrain.  When I feel angry and overwhelmed, as I do a lot right now, I have a tendency to micro-manage, which I am doing my utmost to control.  I like to channel this desire into massive cleaning and purging sprees, as though by organizing my outside environment I will somehow also organize my interior environment and wake to a blissful, peaceful, FUNCTIONAL reality.

This likely explains why I just rearranged the livingroom furniture.

But this is also the time when I download, or brain dump, onto a piece of unlucky paper and begin another Big List.  You'll remember the last one, which was only a few months ago I think.  Let me check...ah, here it is.  Actually, it was two months ago; that sounds about right.  When I mentioned the last Big List, it was because I had fallen behind on Things That Needed Doing.  Lots of little chores, and some big ones, and lots of multi-step (have to call this person before that person and simultaneously do this thing and THEN I can do that thing...) tasks.  This is one way in which I utilize the Big List.  The other way is what I tend to refer to as a Family Re-Evaluation, which is what I'm doing right now.

A Family Re-Evaluation isn't always accompanied by a list, although pretty much everything in my life has a list attached to it in some way so likely if I'm in charge, there's going to be categorizing going on somewhere.  No, the Re-Evaluation is generally when everything is Not Working.  In this case bedrooms are not working, bedtimes are not working, meals are not working, the car seat situation (again with the little car chairs, Lord) is still, STILL not working, the car in general is not working, life isn't working.  It isn't working.

Sigh.  ANYway, it's a stage, it's a stage, it's a stage.  And I don't live in a bubble.  Although like the main character in Mom's Night Out I think I would also find a white bare room to be relaxing.  But that is not going to happen so onward and upward.

Unmarriageable children and too much food.

You know, for me one of the absolute hardest things about the Christian life is somehow trying to maintain this acknowledgement of grace and gratefulness and such in the face of what is really a crummy time.  Like, a super crummy time.  Crummy?  Yes, okay, that's the word I'll use.  It's also the period of life when I find it really hard to fight against the ingrained training of my pre-Christian years when 'crummy', as an example, would not have been the word I would have chosen.

Yesterday I don't even think I managed to get on the computer at all, and of course my inner desire to blog daily has been totally hampered by life, mostly in the form of the eldest daughter, who is two and trying to kill me.  I swear that child is one good screaming fit away from needing an exorcism.  "How she will EVER find someone to marry her is beyond me" I say, and David responds with "Well, they say there's someone for everyone."  And then we look dubiously at our eldest daughter and sort of tilt our heads like dogs do when they hear a far away noise.  Except none of the noise here can be termed 'far away'.  None of it.

Hallelujah!  Onwards and Upwards!

I moped yesterday with what we call a First World Problem around here - We had a LOT of food in the house, and then I kept buying more, and then I decided to stop buying it so that we could use up what we had, and then surprisingly my clay jug did not perpetually refill itself with oil and my bag with flour and lo!  We ran terribly low on food.  And so then I bought a Whole Bunch on Thursday, and came home and people had somehow sensed through the universe that the pastor's family had been low on food but the message had been on time delay and so when I arrived back at the house the next two days was FULL of people bringing me yet more food, and now I cannot, honestly cannot, fit anything else in the cupboards, fridge or freezer.  Which actually means that there are several grocery bags on the floor in my kitchen which are holding the over spill of food. And my dishes are ornamented with cans of pasta sauce, and there are two giants bags of onions in my linen cupboard, and 10lbs of potatoes in with the saucepans.

And here we are, on a cold but otherwise nice looking day, and I am full up with chores and things. It's just all cyclical, and perhaps I'm crazy for this but come what may I'm blogging every day this week.  I am.

I have no idea what I'm doing.

I'm so overwhelmed by life that I think if I don't just decide to post blog entries they are not going to happen.  I don't want to stop writing this blog, I don't.  I need to get past the feeling that I have nothing to say and am anxious and stressed.  I will not explain all the ways in which I am failing as a mother and a person and a Christian.

This week marks the, what, the second week of homeschooling S.  He's in preschool level stuff, but I'm already noticing that he's so far ahead in terms of numbers and drawing lines etc. and not doing letters well at all.  I would like to improve our school time together and do crafts and such, but honestly that is just not going to happen right now so we're doing workbooks.

All I do, every day, is try to keep my head above water.  That's all I do.  I wake up and I listen to the crazy happening around me and I breathe and I work on feeding people and making sure my children are wearing clothes.  I'm always one thing away from losing it.

And I've decided to cut out sugar from my diet.

I think mostly the issue is that I can't catch my breath - we have guests and then they leave and then there's a baptism and that's done and suddenly there's an event and okay now we have a potluck and then guests again and someone's birthday...I know what I'm describing is life, but it's just harder right now.

Some of the time I'm frustrated by things that just Need Doing; a dedicated person and just some time without ANY children would solve these issues - like getting my bangs cut, mending the hole in my sheet, cleaning the oven, buying furniture polish...I can't, of course, because I always have a child with me.  Even one child is too much.

Supposed to be Monday

This pregnancy is going by so much faster than either of my others; I'm over halfway (22 weeks and change now) even if you factor in that there's no chance of my giving birth at 40 weeks.  I like to think that, because it involves less pain and frustration on the other side of it all when you're huge and hot and uncomfortable and want someone to put you out of your misery and all you can do is sob to people "but I'm full term...".  No, much better to think about these things now, while I still have some shreds of sanity about me.

And this morning is the joy of my OB appointment, which I have been thinking of in terms much less pleasant than I am prepared to share, but which just now, this very moment, I have decided to be grateful for and happy about.

While I'm gone one of our handy parishioners is going to come over here and fix our shower, which I am unreservedly thrilled over.  We've been living in the parsonage since August and haven't had a working shower, only a bath.  I like baths, but having a bath seems to be Such An Ordeal in a way that showers aren't.  I need to find time for a bath, I need to prepare a beverage, a book, a schedule...is there hot water in the tank?  A shower is easy, and easy is what I like.

I am also going to actively be Very Optimistic about this shower thing because I have a feeling that it isn't a quick fix but is going to require removing part of the wall and fixing the plumbing.  And I shall write a note for the gentleman to also take a look at the leaking sink.

Yesterday, when I intended to post this, was not a great day.  I had high hopes of getting all sorts of freezerish food prepared and such, but went over my grocery budget (not surprising, I hadn't researched it well and was shopping with everyone) and that frustrated me.  The children, who had been promised rides on the mechanical pony if they behaved in the store, did not get their rides, and cried loudly.  The embroidery floss I needed to continue this cross stitch was gone from the store.  I was exhausted and barely managed chicken and rice for supper, which neither child wanted or ate anyway.  And our attempted family tv show ended in everyone going to bed.

Today is going to be wonderful!

Parenting From The Trenches

This 'cold' that we all picked up maybe two weeks ago is still going strong.  We all started out with a fever and S was throwing up, but then it quickly became a chest/head/disgusting thing for David and I, and less so for both children, except that recently they are both faucets again, and now are coughing so hard they gag.  Especially S, who coughed enough to get sick in bed last night on his pillow.  And I say 'his pillow' in the loosest possible sense since he was, in fact, sleeping in the spare room.  And by sleeping I mean not sleeping at all but actually wandering around the house/complaining/kicking me when I tried to lie down with him.  So no one really slept except C.  And then today was supposed to be a playgroup day except that it wasn't, because the schools were all closed and that meant the resource centre was closed, all due to icy rain.

This wasn't going to stop us - we all headed out for a long walk in search of food since all the meat I had left in the house was uninspiring and also required me to do ridiculously complex things to it, like defrost it.  I'm working on very little sleep here and defrosting something is not going to happen.  Without help I have to do my grocery shopping in stages.  I can push the tandem stroller with bags of groceries underneath it, and that can pretty much cover our produce needs.  Then a second trip is needed to get meat, etc.  If large bulk items are also required, like a bag of flour for example, that is a third trip.

I'm parenting alone right now; David has headed off to work and won't be home until very late this evening.  The way things are looking around here I may still be doing laundry when he gets back.  And I have to figure out what on earth to cook for supper that both children and I can eat.  I'm on a diet, so that cuts out anything remotely nice tasting.