Weather in the spring gives me terrible anxiety.
All of the storms and the alerts and the forecasts scare me. Last night there was a thunderstorm and we lost power for a few minutes. We tend to lose power easily in our neighborhood for some reason. But basically after that happened, around 1, I didn’t sleep for hours. I listened to the rain, listened for the sump pump to go off, kept convincing myself I heard my daughter (who recently has decided she’s a bit scared of thunder). All day today the Midwest has been on alert. Actually since last night there have been weather warnings for today. Most of the day was normal today, a little rain and darkness here but otherwise nothing crazy. As I was putting my oldest son to bed my phone started alarming and I assumed it was the tornado warning. It wasn’t, which is great, but instead it warned of hail and 90… NINETY miles per hour winds. I swore it was a typo but upon investigation it was not a typo at all and that was in fact the warning. I’m gearing up for another sleepless night and trying not to get too anxious already.
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Progress is strange because you don’t really realize it's happening until suddenly…it has happened.
This past year has been a year of unbelievable growth in our family. It’s so easy to focus on the goals ahead and worry about the what-ifs and the future, but once in a while the progress hits me and I am amazed. I’m proud. I’m crying. I’m confident in continuing our journey toward whatever comes next. On Tuesday both of my older kids had appointments at the same time and I waited in the hallway. I stoped and realized how unbelievable it was that I waited in the hallway. This was such immense progress from where we’ve come. I took a picture of the 2 closed doors, each one with one of my kids behind it, and I sent it to my husband. And I sat and choked back tears. A little bit of one on one time with each of my kids is absolutely necessary for my sanity. It’s also necessary for noticing and remembering and appreciating.
My husband took the older 2 to his mom’s house for a sleepover last night, and I got to spend roughly 24 hours with just the very soon to be 2 year old. There was a lot of book reading, snack sharing, cheek kissing, and silliness. One of my favorite moments was walking around the corner into the kitchen to see him holding a jar of pasta sauce like it was a precious baby. I watched for a second. “Oh sauce! I love sauce!” He almost sang, as he rocked it back and forth. I SO appreciate him. He’s just joyful and hilarious and a sun shiny spot in my life. I did quickly help him put his beloved sauce back on the shelf of the pantry before the glass jar got dropped or broken. I heard a piercing yelp from the other room and winced. Seconds later, the vet tech was walking a tail-wagging, happy as always Roswell toward me.
The next step after that first shot was to walk him around outside for 10-15 minutes since the pain killers he got usually make him have to poop. So we wandered past the bank next door and saw a goose on the roof. Then the goose saw us and honked and flapped until it felt we were a safe distance away. I’ve been nervous about this day for like 2 months now, and today is only injection 1 out of 3 to rid Roswell’s heart and lungs of the worms that have wrapped themselves and made a home. Living in Chicagoland and growing up with pets that were well cared for, I was lucky to have never had to think about heartworm other than as that thing my dad gave the dog and sometimes gave us the little red heart sticker from the packaging. Heartworm is no joke. Lots of the dogs we rescue from Kentucky come in having never lived in a house before, or sometimes just have lived in a place where their owners were poorly educated. This is my 3rd foster that has made the journey north with an active case of heartworm disease. This is the first time I have been the one to bring the poor patient to the injection. The pamphlets all said the whole experience is stressful and painful, and to make sure we keep to the schedule on the pain meds, but seeing him half comatose, whimpering in his sleep is stressful and painful for me too. With luck and with good meds, he will be feeling better by tomorrow. And then 2 more injection days await us before we go into the final waiting period and get him retested. At the end of this, we will have many healthy years, but it is really, really unfortunate he has to go through this. Please keep your pets up to date on preventatives! This weekend we got a new foster dog. Her name is Elaine, and I have a hard time not thinking of Elaine Benes.
I wrote recently about the struggle for me between love and logic. That my heart will never NOT want to take in more fosters, even if it doesn’t seem like the right time, or I know it will add a lot of stress. Love, mostly, seems to win over logic. We didn’t end up taking in the fosters we planned on, two senior sisters, we got Elaine. Elaine is some type of bulldog and pit mix. She was listed as 44lbs but I think that was a huge underestimation. She’s clearly been bred multiple times, and her mama belly hangs low. She has some scars on her face and sores on her elbows. She snorts and stinks, and we adore her. Elaine is like an exact mix of traits between 2 dogs my family has loved and lost over the years. She’s very my type. So far she’s doing great, seems totally potty trained, lazy, crate trained, and easy going. This weekend she will be officially available for adoption, so we will see how long she stays. I never regret taking on a new foster. Saving a life is always worth it! My husband comes from a basketball family. His dad was the head coach at St. Xavier for many years, my husband and his sister grew up playing basketball, my husband coached basketball for a long time as well.
So when our kids were born, and have begun growing, very tall, of course there’s a lot of talk: “A born basketball player!” “Get a ball in that kid’s hand!” “Is he on a team yet?!” But our kids are just… not yet athletically inclined. Today my 5 year old sat with my husband and asked questions about the March Madness game, which determined that my husband would be 3rd in the pool for his bracket. He watched with him and cheered when the team he wanted got a point, and eventually won. I still am not sure he will be an athletic person, we will have to wait and see. But it was very sweet to watch his smile, and my husband’s, too, as they watched today. Today was my 3 year old daughter’s second week of soccer. 3 year olds playing soccer is hilarious as it
is, but if you know my daughter at all, it's even more hilarious. For about 20 minutes, she did the little drills. She ran and galloped and trapped the ball, and even kicked it a few times! At that point she just lost interest. She walked to the sidelines and laid on the gym floor. She crawled and slid back and forth while the other 3 year olds ran in circles. After some time, and the coach asking if she'd like to come back out to play, she decided she was officially done. Then, about the coolest thing that could have happened, in her 3 year old opinion, happened. An ant crawled past her! For the next 15 or so minutes, she watched it, slid on her belly after it, and talked to it. Suddenly she jumped up and ran to her coach. "Are you ready to come play?!" her coach asked. "No… I FOUND AN ANT!" she shouted and ran back to her little insect friend. After the game was over she told me that she thinks soccer is amazing! Every morning, a few minutes before I need to actually leave the house, I take my bags to the car.
Depending on the day I have several backpacks, many lunch bags, water bottles, my coffee cup, snacks, etc. What I’ve noticed is that the time that I tend to do this coincides with my neighbors fist smoke break of the day. This neighbor is… interesting. The other neighbors seem to be a bit turned off by him, but my husband has made friends with him in the last 4 years. He is old. He is crass. He is often inappropriate. Today, like many, as I put bags into the car, he ventured down the driveway in his blue fluffy robe, tall socks, and work boots. In his hand, scraping the driveway, he held a snow shovel. Just in case you wondered, there is no snow here. Every morning… scrape, scrape, scrape… he moves the newspaper from the end of the driveway into his garage. I guess this is to avoid bending over to actually pick up the newspaper. In warmer weather, he can be found outside at any time of day- still in his robe and work boots. Over the summer I learned that he sometimes doesn’t wear anything under that blue fluffy robe. He’s certainly a character, but early in the fall when he didn’t get his paper for a few days, we noticed. And we worried. We debated going over and ringing the door bell. We debated calling the police for a wellness check. Later that day “Mr. Dave” as our kids call him, emerged, cigarette in hand, in all his blue fuzzy robe glory! And we’ve never been more thankful! My work family is my favorite support system.
Some of my very best friends have been made at work, and when my students ask, “Who are your best friends??” I honestly answer with other teachers’ names. Then they clarify, “No, your real friends!” and my answer is the same. Many of them I’ve known since before we had kids, or before we were married, or before we even knew our partners. We’ve grown together, through all education has thrown at us, into parenthood, (for some) into divorced life, and into remarriage. I don’t care how many meetings I’ve had, how long it’s been since we’ve passed each other in the hallway, if I need someone I know I can go either direction out of my classroom and find someone who genuinely cares about me. Today, after a long, stressful stretch that my friend was aware of, I found a little card and a cake on my desk. And I sat, and I read it, and I cried. I am so, so grateful for my people. When I got home today, I was the first one.
I just sat in the quiet car, in the quiet driveway, outside the quiet house. A moment later, my husband pulled up with 2 of the kids. I got out of my car and walked over to theirs. As I flung the door open, both kids smiled so big and both said “Mama!” This was THE best moment of my day. |
Author5th grade teacher, wife, mama to my 3 magical babies, ally, advocate, doggy foster mom... just stumbling on. Archives
March 2022
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