Looking ahead, yesterday, we all thought the synchronicity of this drawing would be spot-on: snow was in the forecast! We woke up with the slightest dusting yesterday, but today? Nothing. It’s just the same old wet winter slog that gives this little corner of the country such a bad weather rap. Listen, I like the rain. I missed it deeply during our three year Arizona experiment. I didn’t grow up with it, but when I moved up here, in the mid-90s, it was like coming home. But even home can feel oppressive, you know? And maybe that’s just how I’m feeling these days, metaphorically and not.
We’re six weeks out now from The Baby’s surgery. The surgery and hospitalization that I intended to blog about, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t know that processing my reaction to such a stressful situation is as relevant anymore as just the slow unfolding of regular life. And it has been so slow. Because Uly still has one leg in a cast, dressing him is a bit of a challenge. It doesn’t matter much, at home, but when we go out, I feel anxious. Here’s the thing. People are going to judge my baby. They’re going to look at him and make assumptions. Not all people. And not even all assumptions will be negative. But I feel a great self-inflicted pressure to make sure he’s clean and cute. I didn’t feel the same pressure with my other kids. I only have so many appropriate apparel options for him right now. I do think it will be easier once I’m not dressing him around bulky bandaging (his fiberglass splint is held on by a lot of stretchy bandages). But, honestly, we will have new challenges. I don’t meant to imply that we need only to push through this one hurdle and then everything will be a snap. Not even close. But lately, I feel overwhelmed a lot and apart from appointments and quick errands, I wait until I have another adult (the husband) around to go anywhere, both for practical logistics and emotional back-up.
After more than a year of having a low-grade cabin fever, this acute flare-up shouldn’t be a big deal. The holidays can be so fraught and tender anyhow; I want to make this season meaningful, but so much feels like ill-fitting work. I know I’m giving myself an extra hard time, but I’m not sure how to be kinder to myself, more forgiving of my flaws. More sleep, probably. But a magical surprise fairyland of snow wouldn’t hurt, either. Maybe I’d feel less like a failure if *everybody* had to be stuck at home from a snowstorm. Sorry, people with plans and full calendars, I secretly wish you would slow down a little. I can’t keep up.
I’ll be checking the weather with fingers crossed for the next few days. If we can’t be snowbound (so selfish of me, I know it. what a hardship that would be for many), can we at least get a few inches?