Unrequited Pecan Pie

My life caught up with me.

There's been a standing offer for a prize for the person who found the source of a "locker room" smell in my house this week. I cleaned, I searched, I concluded it must be the dampness or the wet kitchen towels that had to wait too long to be washed. On Friday, I took to the basement to look for the booster seat Colby needs that I must have sold in a yard sale and found the problem.

The ancient upright deep freeze door had been open for twelve days. Twelve. Days. Ick.

While trying to get out of the house with my brood to head to a get-together at my aunt Shel's, I had asked Max to go in the basement to get a pecan pie out of the freezer. Lily raced ahead and got it herself, with a mad Max trailing and Colby bringing up the rear. In the end, two boys were crying, a girl victorious, and, unbeknownst to all of us, the freezer door had not been shut properly in the fray. (And we didn't even end up needing the pecan pie, so it was all for naught.)

This is where I thank God for my husband, who took care of the entire problem with no assistance from his raw-meat-hating wife. Thank. You. Shrek. I love him for being strong enough to take care of the deer meat, the corn, the things he found that he said must have been in there for the entire eight years or so of our deep freeze ownership. That's all I'm going to say about that.

But I think my thaw came with the deep freeze thaw as well. I'm feeling more human these days. The pall has lifted yet again. I have had an insanely busy weekend, and the next three weeks are nothing but go time.

My plan is to keep my head up, keep my heart in it and get through it. I'm going to pause when I can for hot tea, fall candles, moments of clarity and the people who make my life an incredible, blessed journey.

And I'm going to keep a better eye on not only the open doors in front of me, but the ones that should be closed as well.

An Attitude of Gratitude

Tonight, I am trying to switch into recovery mode. I'm not gonna lie. The Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday loop of my life lately has been kicking my ass. I'm dragging in major ways. So what I'm thinking is this: I'm going to fake it until I make it. That is to say, I am sick of the waa-waa-waa-I'm-exhausted me. I like the calm, peaceful, grateful me so much more.

And so, tonight, I am writing a gratitude list to aid in my transformation back into the real me. In no particular order, I am grateful for:

1) The driver of the car that slowed rather than hitting me this morning after I made a really dumb split-second driving decision with all of my most precious cargo in the van.

2) The warm gas fireplace hissing in the corner of my living room and my beautiful live tree flashing from the other.

3) The early bedtime Dave and I have established for the kids. They go to sleep and are still tired by the end of the week, so we must be on target.

4) My Crock Pot that makes the M/T/W loop just barely possible. I often make breakfast, lunch and dinner at the same time in the morning on work days, which cuts down on the intensity of "the witching hour" of 5:45 p.m. or so when my hubby gets home with three hungry, tired kids. (I usually roll in around 6:15...)

5) My mother, who stopped in on her "break" between jobs today, called me and asked what she could start for supper because I had not had time for said Crock Pot this morning. (The beef and noodles hit the spot!)

6) The fact that all of my Christmas work is nearly done, given the second fact that I haven't seemed to be able to focus on it for more than twenty minutes at a time lately.

7) My husband finally changing my oil in the van tonight. He had to head back into work at 8 p.m., so it will be forever before he's back home, work and oil change complete....

8) My endless supply of fresh water, which I'm chugging all the time since I'm so thirsty. I really feel for these women in poor countries who are parched and pregnant, working in the fields up until delivery and then back in the field within days with newborns strapped to their backs. Really. And I think my life is tough. Give me a break. Or rather, give them a break, for pete's sake!!

9) I'm grateful for the option of sinking into a hot bubble bath with a cuppa dark chocolate cocoa after I finish this post. Although, come to think of it, my sleeping form in my bed sounds even better. And, really, who wants to read the headline, "Exhausted 8-months-pregnant mother of three drowns after slipping into bubble bath"?

10) And finally, I'm thankful for Roberts 4.0 kicking and growing like crazy. Kid, you're getting extremely heavy. I feel like I'm heading to the bathroom every thirty minutes just to get rid of a half cup of liquid, but you're worth it. You are worth it all.

There. Isn't that better? It really is. It's much better reading and writing than telling you how tired, disenchanted, sickly, comatose and indifferent I'm feeling right now.

For an added bonus, I'm going to add a photo sequence to make you laugh. Remember that gingerbread house? It is no longer....









I tell you, the gingerbread house came down much faster than it went up. But I daresay it brought as much joy.

And really, isn't that what matters most?

Pushed

I've come full-circle today. I woke up in a very different mindset and mood than I'm in now. I was moving in a fog. I was not myself. This week and its events all combined to make me feel a bit emotionally dead. Sounds terrible, but I think I was getting there. I have had trouble getting anywhere on time, trouble making decisions, trouble seeing the forest for the trees. I was a lesser version of myself, one that had been pushed, pushed, pushed. More than anything, I was on autopilot.

After I got Lil to the bus stop, readied the boys, cleaned a bit and and took off, late, to my OB check-up, I was told at the receptionist's window that the OB was stuck in surgery and I could either wait a long time or reschedule. I should have had some kind of reaction to this. But I remember thinking, matter-of-factly "Oh, of course, he's stuck in surgery. Of course, he can't see me." And I did have a fleeting thought of well wishes for the woman/women he was operating on, that all would be okay, that all had gone well. But, by and large, I didn't feel anything. I rescheduled, bundled the boys back up, ran a couple errands and headed home.

Oh, I also stopped at Tim Horton's for the second day in a row for a medium cafe mocha and Timbits. (Thank you, Tim. Sometimes, you are my only friend.)

I got home, gathered some packages, hit the Web for a quick break. And the boys played. They played so well together. The sun started to shine, and something let go of its hold on me. I felt the heaviness of the morning fading. I put on my shoes, picked up clutter throughout the house and proceeded to vacuum the hell out of it.

And cleaning is the right thing to do to bring me out of a funk, or lack of a funk, or whatever that ambivalence I felt can be called. I thought it and then posted it as my Facebook status: "When the going get tough, the tough get cleaning. (I am Erin, daughter of Deborah, daughter of Joanne.)"

I think it's just in my blood. It's what "my people" do. We feel the weight of the world, realize we can't change it all and then focus on shining up our corner of it as best we can. I may not be able to solve the world's problems, but I can solve my own. Or at least fight the paralysis they can bring.

So I shined up the place, ate a late lunch with the boys, caught a short nap and carried on. I hosted my mom, my sis and my sis' kids for dinner and then joined the "deer camp women" and children at a good friend's house to relax. It took a couple games of Catchphrase, some yummy snacks and three wine glasses full of cranberry ginger ale. Hours of self-reflection. By being gentle with myself and allowing time for the cloud to pass, I'm sitting here in a much different place.

I'm fine. This deer camp will go down in the record books, the girls and I will come up with an epic "dear" camp of our own. Moods will come and go. Packages will be lost and found. The world will go on, and so will I.

I'm happy to be back in the land of the living, to feel my blessings and to yearn, in earnest, for my warm bed. I'm thankful for my challenges, my ups and downs, my wisdom in being able to help myself to stay grounded but to not go under.

The mind is a powerful thing. And, thank goodness, so is a Kenmore sweeper...