Many times during the pandemic, it’s felt like my hold on reality was tenuous. My body has been hurting, and it keeps getting worse. My brain was overloaded with the daily onslaught of requests. It is literally burning right now, right around its outer membrane.
After a particularly hard week, with major parenting struggles in addition to the regular parenting demands, I was teetering on the edge of not being able to cope when I walked into my new rheumatologist’s office.
Last summer, one of my long term grown-up dreams came true. We installed a whole house fan.
For years, I had the fan on my wishlist, but it was expensive. So summer after summer, we used window AC units and fans. They cooled part of the house, but never the whole thing.
Our upstairs wiring could only tolerate one AC unit, which left the master bedroom an icebox, but the other bedrooms too hot. The hot air would move around as the fans blew, but it wouldn’t leave. There were nights when you could stick your arm out the window and feel the cool air, but it refused to come in the house, probably because of science.
At night it was musical beds and floors trying to get everyone to a spot cool enough for sleep. (Strangely, my kids have been unimpressed with the technique I used to keep cool on hot summer nights as a child – sleeping with a cold, wet washcloth draped over me).
In the air conditioned master bedroom, I would wake up freezing and congested in the middle of an August night. I freeze all winter, because I’m a frugal lady who keeps the thermostat on the lowest temperature I can tolerate. But freezing in the summer didn’t feel right.
The Chaplain is working more. I am walking, sewing, and reading less and parenting more. Quiet time has become an elusive ghost of a former life when I got to be alone for a period of time each day.
It feels like we are all in a constant negotiation for what we need, the kids and The Chaplain and I, and none of us are quite getting what we’re looking for.
So it was as we rearranged our dining room around a new piece of furniture, and my grandmother’s teacups came to the kids’ attention. They asked if we could have a tea party.
Last night, I got an email from my job. It was addressed to all the per diem workers on my unit, reminding us of our education and scheduling requirements to stay in the hospital’s good graces. There was no due date in the email for the education compliance.
Failure to comply, it concluded, may result in termination.
I set my laptop aside after reading the email and tried to figure out what about the email had bothered me. I remember a similar from one last year. When I read it, I freaked out – Was I behind on my education? Was I working enough weekend hours? (Everything was fine.)
This year, I have been so mentally bogged down by family life, homeschool life, and the pandemic that I actually HAVEN’T done my education, at least not all of it. So maybe the email WAS for me.
I made a fairy tale cloak. I’m still hoping to go to a forest and take some magical pictures out in nature, but real life dictates backyard photo shoots for now.
