Thank you to everyone who has visited, liked and subscribed to my blog! I hope this is a wonderful holiday season for you all!
My husband’s family tradition every Christmas is to go to Boise, where my mother-in-law‘s family live. We didn’t do this last year due to the fact that I was hugely prego and past my due date of Dec, 17th (he was ten days late), but this year we agreed to make the trek despite our misgivings about an 11 hour drive with a 1 year-old. Henry did surprisingly well and I annoyed everyone in the car snapping pictures of the breathtakingly desolate landscape as we drove through Washington, Oregon and Idaho. We were concerned about the weather as we had to drive through the mountains, but aside from some fog the weather was amazing.
I’ll be posting more pics from this trip. This first batch is the mountains in mist.
Everybody struggles. With themselves, with their family, with their reality, with the big decisions and with the little ones. Everyone struggles. And finds happiness and disappointment, and grief and companionship. There is a time when we all feel as though the rug has been ripped out from underneath us, when our perception shifts and takes our sense of security with it, calls into question our assumptions about life, love, family, happiness, grief. And the world revolves around each one of us, little dust-devil universes that make it hard for us to see each other, to see how much we have in common, how much pain and joy we share, how blown away we are by it all.
My daughter was recently hospitalized, more out of caution than necessity (for which I thank our doctor as it is better to be safe than sorry), but ohmyfuckinggod was it ever stressful for me as my husband was away in Toronto and I had to drag Henry along with me (he was the best behaved baby the whole time and absolutely loved the hospital. What gadget/electronics oriented child wouldn’t?), but sleeping on a mattress on the floor of my daughter’s hospital room with him was less than restful.
So, what do I do when things are stressful? Tune them out, even just for brief snatches of time. Turn away for the space of a breath, from the anxiety of my child in a hospital bed to the window because although I know her illness isn’t serious the precariousness of my children’s safety is brought too close in the children’s ward where many others (the baby whose cry we heard through most of the night) will not recover so quickly, where many other parents struggle with the heartbreak of an inconsolable child who they are unable to protect .