that weekend-feeling

Even though, or perhaps because (?) I worked the evening/night shift on Saturday, I had a great weekend-feeling. When it seems that things have been accomplished and yet relaxing.

Of course exploring random little paths we found in the nearby state park was the most relaxing part. More exciting : after multiple trips to the same store to look at two contenders, we finally decided on a table for the kitchen. It is not round and it is not an island/work station, but with a name like 'boulangerie' (bakery) we had to buy it I think.

It will arrive right before Christmas, a bit of a wait. Meanwhile, I can prep the area (some other furniture needs to move, the walls need some paint, that kind of stuff) and slowly things are finding their place. Multiple donations yet to go- it is unbelievable what one family can gather over the years. From starting out with three high chairs and some clothes and toys...(this story is now family lore: we used plastic utensils from Chinese take-out and had three plates gifted to us by a friend).

The new table is from quite a high-end store (prompting Emma to congratulate us during our phone conversation yesterday, and prompting me to want to apologize and say 'but it was on sale!") which did spark some reflection on where we used to get our furniture over the years and how that has changed...my first dining room table came from my grandparents' attic I believe-

The evening/night shift may have been my last, for which I am glad on some level but also sad. I will miss the potential for crazy-you-never-know-what-you-get-or-can-happen. The distinctly different atmosphere during the off-hours. The - on some level deeply personal- encounters with people in acute distress.

Que sera, sera...(for an excellent analysis of this phrase, I encourage visiting Wikipedia).

through the open door...

I hear the wind through the leaves, my love chopping wood, see the birds busy with fall chores, our cats enjoying the weather.

I am contemplating all the good things in my life while ironing some clothes. "You have never been in my situation", said a mother to me late one night in the ER. True, and I hope I never do have to walk in her shoes, not even for half a mile.

But I've been some places I do not wish upon other people either- psychological pain, sadness, shock, the parent roller coaster. For example, I can see myself long ago, sliding down the wall to the floor clutching the phone, when the doctor called about lab results for my little boy, saying it was very concerning and he should be admitted immediately to the hospital. That moment when all you hear is the blood raging through your head, your heart raw already.

We were lucky then. On hindsight, we have mostly been lucky (so far). But those kind of moments, you do not forget.

It is what most parents want for their children: healthy, happy, successful at navigating life. It is not always what you get.

But no more sounds of my children playing through my door, they are opening different doors in different places and they seem to like what they see so far.

My love and I spent some time in the big city with Vera and her roommates this weekend, we explored several classes at the school where she is studying. We slept on her kitchen/dining room floor. It took some getting used to, this being a guest at my daughter's home. To everyone's amusement I brought my knitting, in Emma's gorgeous bowl.

While we were away,  Thijs took excellent care of the cats at home. We are all missing each other: kids, cats, parents- but we are all doing well. Good things in my life.

now I feel forced

..to talk about this past week "from hell" to quote several co-workers, which is definitely not in line with what I said would do last time. 'Things' have been sliding downhill for a while, and although I hope we are at the bottom of the hill, I fear the end is not in sight. The people who have been elected to govern this nation seem to have lost sight of how to play fair and had to put themselves in time-out.

On a state/local level, the healthcare corporation for which I sort of work, felt it necessary to cut 900 positions. This directly impacted several fabulous colleagues and also will directly impact the work that the ones who are left will now be able to do. My supplemental position was cut- the longer I think about this, the sillier it gets really, and although we were told that this was nothing personal, it certainly feels that way. It is okay though, as supplemental I was never promised a certain amount of hours anyway. That's the silly part.

The sad part is of course that in the end, the quality of care may suffer. And that people who gave their heart and soul to the place are now left to work until their last day close before the winter holidays. It is pure grief, what we are all feeling. Nothing good can come of this- not even all the hugs and the support and the pulling together can make this right.

This past week really knocked the wind right out of me. I'm drained. And thankful for this weekend with my love who just lets me rant and rave and listens. And for the cats who will be happy to see more of me come December. And for the time I now can plan to clean and bake and make before everyone arrives for the festivities.

The yard is a symphony of dreary moody droopy colors and textures, a requiem for summer. This prompts my love to finally finally clean out the dreaded basement. I may make it to his level of enthusiasm eventually. I still have my part-time grant funded position which I love. On a personal level it is not so bad. I'm just grieving what was and anticipating with some dread what is to come.