I feel sort of antsy, maybe a little melancholy actually, that our house is torn up again. We have blankets on the floor to catch all the melted snow tracks. Nail gun and air compressor are center-stage. No railings for the stairs. All the furniture is in the adjoining rooms. It’s just that I was thinking about Valentine’s Day and now Easter and am reminded that I do have a few decorations I could’ve put out. But didn’t really see the point since it’s hard to tell what’s supposed to be out and what’s just sort of here temporarily. I also figured I may as well put away my winter snow decorations, less to get wood dust on, and fewer things to accidentally break. I keep wanting to invite people over, but a big group would be hard. Maybe it’s just a season I’ll have to let go of and catch again next year.
Looking back, this is how our summer went too as we painted the exterior of our house. I felt like we were out there any evening we didn’t have another commitment and every Saturday we were in town. The year before, our kitchen was torn up for five weeks during its remodel phase. I haven’t loved feeling out of sorts and having these disruptions; I felt like we were missing out on our normal activities and fun.
I remember feeling this way when I had my cancer surgery almost five years ago during a most beautiful November. I was so let down as I felt tethered to my house when I longed to be taking walks and spending time outside in the leaves. And even being able to cook and mop. Yet I knew I had to give my body its time to heal, and so I simply viewed my favorite time of the year from my couch.
It was sort of the same thing when I had my fifth baby emergency c-section nearly 14 Mays ago. Another friend had her baby at the same time and she and another friend came to visit me. I felt fat and frumpy and so sore as we talked. She was perky and seemingly completely back to normal. But I knew I had to be a little selfish, I needed this time to heal. As much as I longed to go to the park and play with all our little friends, I just needed to bow out for a few days.
And now that I think about it, I remember feeling this for the first time when I had Andrew almost 23 years ago. I’d been working full time up until I had him, and all of a sudden I was relegated to my little upstairs apartment all day without a car. My family came that first weekend, but I remember feeling sad that I couldn’t go shopping with them. I had very little contact with the outside world and felt sort of forgotten and discouraged that this was my new normal.
I was so disappointed when we decided to move a couple of falls back, that our closing date would be the middle of December. I was sad to have to move in the first place. And that it meant fall and Christmas would be very different and disrupted. We couldn’t decorate the house we were moving from for Christmas; I patched and painted walls all those weeks instead. We packed up as our house—normally cozy and festive—became more out of sorts and less homey. We moved into our new house—as the previous owners were moving out—during one of the coldest, snowiest weekends I can remember. I knew we had just over a week till Christmas and then it would be over. My holiday that I can stretch for weeks… I would only have a few short days with. I know there are many harder things in life, but I was disappointed to not be able to celebrate the way we always had before.
I’m reminded that Callum was sick last Christmas, relegated to the couch feeling miserable on a vacation day. I felt so bad for him. I remember throwing up myself one Christmas a couple years back. I knew exactly how he felt to be missing out on my favorite day of the year.
I’ve known kids who have broken a limb at the beginning of summer—could there possibly be a more inconvenient time to be in a cast? A summer without swimming? Our little friend just tore up her ankle. She’s an amazing high school soccer player and is out for the rest of the season. At least. Soccer has been her life for as long we can remember, and it’s devastating to be on crutches and to have to use a scooter at her age. It reminds me of when Andrew wrecked in a bike accident as a senior just weeks before state track, his last chance to compete in high school. Pretty devastating.
On and on. We can all think of seasons—days, sometimes weeks—of our lives where we’ve been relegated to the side lines as time and people go on seemingly without us. But it’s always helped to remind myself that these illnesses and recoveries won’t last forever, and by this time next year things will be more normal. But what to do in the interim, for now?
I like how one girl on Bronwyn’s volleyball team is using this season while she’s out to help with coaching, tossing the balls in the warm ups and cheering on the girls in their games. She’s still part of the team, wearing her uniform and showing up; she’s just involved in a different way this season.
Our Christmastime move helped us set up our decorations so quickly because of all the help we had, and when two friends moved this past Christmas, I totally knew what it felt like and how to help. A sick day becomes a different sort of day with soft foods and junk tv. A broken bone allows us to learn the coaching angle of our sport. The times alone with my babies were good for me and forced me to rest and heal and to spend those few days holding them close. Our summer evenings painting the house were actually some of my favorite memories from last year, listening to our radio and talking while we worked together as a family. Having to heal from a c-section that summer was actually helpful because it kept me and the five kids close to home for a time; our days were a little more relaxed than I would normally tend to make them. And my days on my couch recovering from surgery were unusually slow, allowing me to visit with friends and to appreciate their generosity and kindness up close.
To be honest, sometimes it’s hard to see the good in an accident or distressing situation, and yet I still think it’s there. If only to teach us to appreciate what we so often take for granted: our health, our associations, our everyday homes with furnishings in their proper places, a beautiful fall, holiday decorations that add to the season.
So as we’re in the middle of chaos once again, I choose not to be disgruntled. Of course I’d love our house to be back to normal (and admit I’m a tad jealous when I go to my friends’ perfectly organized houses) and to be able to dust and clean properly. Obviously, our little friends would rather be playing their favorite sports than watching from the sidelines, most kids would rather not have to be stuck at home feeling sick, and I’d choose any other time of the year to move instead of Christmas; but most of the time we don’t get to choose this kind of thing. And so I’ve found it helpful to just acknowledge that, while admittedly distressing, these disruptions are usually temporary. And, looking back, I don’t know that we would actually change any of it. Because there is nearly always something to learn or appreciate from life's interruptions.
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