The Water Is Rising

I've still got my life raft full of hope, I'm not untying the knot on that until the very last moment and then we're hoping in.

However, the water is rising.

My husband shares a cell phone plan with his dad, it's been helpful for maintaining contact when issues related to the tenant arise or more recently when catastrophes occur.  And trust me, if there was a catastrophe contest we'd win hands down.  So, my husband is now operating a household without a dishwasher, microwave OR a refrigerator.

The fridge is a recent development, and left us all so heartsick.  With all the Lenten sales we were able to pick up some great deals on fish and a lamb roast super cheap so we tossed them into the freezer of our gorgeous side by side stainless steel refrigerator.  Until a day last week when the compressor went bad and instead of simply not keeping things cold, it went kaput and heated all the contents of both the fridge and freezer.  It wasn't noticeable at first because the light still came on inside and things like butter and ketchup were a-okay.

To add insult to injury, it's rather expensive to dispose of trash at $1.50 per bag.  There are a lot more restrictions on what is accepted for recycling as well.  Garbage tags are always hard for us to budget for compared to our previous living situations where you could take it all out to the curb like reverse Christmas.  We were always a source of job security for our trash man in the old 'hood.

We were able to move what was salvageable up to the in-law apartment upstairs.  It only boasts an apartment sized refrigerator though, so there was still a lot that had to be pitched into the trash.  Such a crushing blow.  Mr. Fabulous has been so resourceful with our meager food budget.  It was a miracle that we had anything in reserve at all, frankly.  And now we don't.

Prior to the appliances all deciding to commit suicide, we had a sewer back up in the basement.  It wouldn't have been anything major if it had happened to any other home on the block.  Of course, this being our home, well it wasn't that simple.  A note was taped up with bold sharpie block letters stating that there was a plumbing issue and that a service appointment was scheduled for later in the day.

The Tenant read and disregarded this.  Mr. Fabulous came home to discover that the use of the laundry room had forced ungodly amounts of sewage not only up through the drains in the floor of the unfinished portions of the basement but also into our living area.  The baskets of laundry that had been sitting in the laundry room awaiting their date with the washer and dryer were destroyed, coated in sewage.  There was no way to assure they were sanitized.  Submerging them into the washer just seemed like a way to invite trouble for kids who have a severe skin ailment.  And then how could you be certain that the washer was then free of contaminents?

"I just couldn't wait until after the plumber was here to do my wash!" was the reply.  And then my husband's head exploded inwardly because, of course, he has to tread lightly with her.  Why?  Oh don't even get me started.

The basement bathroom and carpeted areas were a mess.  We don't have renters insurance, so like all the other times something has gone disastrously awry we were left shaking our heads and wringing our hands.  Once again, Life presented an opportunity for us to move forward with even fewer personal possessions.  Toys, book, clothing and last but not least a portion of our coping skills were tossed out with the bath sewer water.

The water is rising, indeed.

How am I not sitting in a corner with my head in my hands sobbing, "WHY? WHY WHY?" Don't worry, I've been there.  I have been in such a state of distress that the only prayer I could muster was a simple, breathless "please?" as my heart raced and my head spun.  We've lost it all by some standards.  I don't know what my standards are for measuring loss at this juncture, but we have each other - barely.  Eric's cell phone bill is over and he's on a no call protocol until the next billing cycle.   I am deeply pained by this.


We've lost our home, our friends and neighbors along with it, our income and the ability to just enjoy floating along this life of ours.  The kids aren't all "little kids" any longer.  Decisions and needs present themselves that are much more urgent at this stage.

The waters aren't only rising, they're shark infested.

I have reached out to some dear friends who know our struggles intimately asking for very specific prayers.  For a long while I felt the need to keep things pretty confidential but I can't be prideful at this point.  I can't let my husband's desire for privacy limit our opportunities.  There is nothing worse than sharing a struggle with a friend only to hear that they wish they had known, they could have helped!  I've been in that boat too many times before, and it is not the way to reach our destination.  So I'm blasting it out to there:  WE NEED HELP. SOS!  Our family needs to move into a new house that will allow us to keep our pets in an area with good schools, and we will find jobs.  We are in desperate need of an incredible deal on rent, we have a big family and are priced out of the market in many of the areas we have been looking at.  So, all geographical locations will be considered.

My plea for you is to share.  Please spread this message far and wide, I can't do this on my own.  I need you, my friends in The Blogiverse.  I can be reached via Thefivelittlemonkeys@gmail.com and will be pressing publish and awaiting some sign that my plea has been heard. 

The waters are rising, and I refuse to let this family drown.

Sometimes...

For those of you who've been here for a while, this morning I'm reflecting back on this post.

On that day almost a year ago, I was listening to Missed The Boat by Modest Mouse, this morning I'm listening to Float On also by Modest Mouse.  And I have to acknowledge that I'm so, so glad I haven't been impacted by the flood waters in Chicago.  Some of my friends have not been so lucky, but I'm sort of at the limit of crisis for the moment.

*a shout out to my friends who've figured out how to embed music in your blog, help?*

"We'll float on good news is on the way"  That's my take away from this song today.  Of course, secure your life jacket and then those for your children and be prepared for anything but with few resources.  We're castaways, refugees, the almost homeless - bobbing up and down in the current that has swept us through these last years.  And in these years family dinners have ended, life with all five children as it was just a couple of years ago has morphed into something else.  Our firstborn is leaving the nest and their mother has been absent.  I wish I could go back to that last day of us all together and soak it all in, I couldn't even look on a calender and point it out though.  One day I just realized that we drifted far from shore and we still haven't made our way back.

So the reality is, we will never get back to shore.  We won't keep floating on much longer though.  I've got my life raft full of hope and I'm paddling us to the next destination.  We've packed up our belongings and made three emergency moves in the last few years.  With little notice we were able to island hop, if you will.  Each time with fewer personal belongings, each time leaving friends and familiarity behind.  From here I will summons all I have to get us to dry land, no more floating and drifting.  My soul is water logged, my heart is parched and my ability to make do was scorched away by the salty water and sunburn long ago.

I shared a song with my husband via Facebook this morning.  It was Don't Wait Too Long by Madeleine Peyroux, she's amazing.  The lyric that spoke to me was this:

"Sometimes you've gotta lose it all before you find your way,
 Take a chance and play your part..."

So whether you take that to mean losing socks to the laundry gremlins, losing your financial well being, losing your mental stamina...you have to stick your neck out and recognize the parts you play in life.  Whether you're the person who makes the boat or captain, rise to the occasion and set sail.  You'll still need that life jacket you've been wearing as you float on but having a ship heading due-whatever-direction-you're-going is a step in the right direction. 

I'm deathly afraid of sharks so I will be so happy to finally be done bobbing up and down in rough waters.

Choosing hope, it's just like blinking!

So here's the deal.

You simply cannot appreciate a 70 degree day if you haven't spent the winter limping through the streets icy of Chicago with stupid diabetic feet.  I should have gotten a cortisone injection but never had the time when I was working 10 days in a row and then sprinting home to spend 4 days with my family.  But enough about me...wait, this blog is about me.  I do hope you'll connect with my story in some way.

Today is a windy 70 degree day that doesn't feel that warm at all but I am in love with this day.

I have certainly had days that felt quite hopeless, but remember I am Choosing Hope.  For me it's like breathing, okay maybe that's not a great analogy considering I have lingering pulmonary issues.  Maybe more like blinking.  Yes, that works!  So it's become one of those autonomic functions of life for me.  During times of stress we blink a bit faster, when debris gets in our eye we tear up to wash it away and when we sleep in those states of REM sleep our eyes perform their own special magic.

There have been days that dragged into sleepless nights of inner dialog where I tried so hard to will myself hopeful.  Now I find that I must increase my level of hopefulness to get through the more difficult days, not discover it.  And that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

I am struggling with a particularly difficult string of insomniac nights.  I've chosen to use those nights to care for myself.  Embracing these endless hours as bonus moments, if you will, to live life has proven the best method to press on through this past week or so.  I've shared my insomnia projects such as moisturizing, doing laundry at 2am and making pancakes at 4 am so that the delicious aroma would wake my neighbor before the stank of his tobacco startles me awake.  He doesn't know that we're in an aroma contest, so it's like an extra private inside joke that exists only within the confines of my own mind.  I'm silly what can I say?

What I'm telling you is this:

Baby steps count - one day (or night!) you're pleading for some sign of hope and then bit by bit hope accumulates.

You can only recognize the warmth, the light, the bright, the hope once you've known the cold, the dark, the dim and the sinking feeling of hopelessness.

We all fall down.  We all have our crisis du jour and those that take our breath away and leave us feeling broken.  Climb out of that dark place by clawing your way out tooth and nail and like the little rubber ducky nail scrub brush my kids have, clean out the junk with hope. 

So tonight, when I'm wide awake and my thoughts are spinning like a pinwheel inside my head, I'm going to envision you all grabbing a bar of  Hope Soap (whatever brand you like)  and scrubbing your nails clean of the junk you've clawed your way through today.  Be kind to yourself and go the extra step, use some moisturizer. 

9 months later

At this moment on July 9, 2012 I didn't recognize my husband.  He stood hovering over me in a hospital bed in a tiny ICU room and I couldn't answer basic questions about the day of the week, where I was or who this man was.

All I could think was wow these people are loud, and persistent and kinda mean.  Barking orders and asking questions.  And I was in so much pain.  It turns out that an overdose of pain medication will leave you feeling pretty crappy and then the 6 liters of IV made me feel like I was going to explode.  My joints ached intensely, and I couldn't take anything for the pain. 

I'm not sure at what point things started to become clear, but sometime between that moment of opening my eyes and realizing I'd been moved from my private room with a view and a shower to an area as close to the nurses station as possible it sank in.  This was dire.  The looks on the faces of the specialists were serious.  The pulmonologist who first responded to my bedside described to me how I truly dodged a bullet.  He didn't mince words, he was shaken by my state.

During my follow up appointments I shared from my perspective and he continued to share details of how he found me.  We were processing the situation.  I can now type this without tears, but it's taken time.  I was recently hospitalized for an acute asthma flare, the first time I've spent time inside of a hospital since this event. I have unsightly bruises on my arms from where my IV's went bad and needed to be replaced.  My bathroom counter is littered with bottles of medication and I am using insulin to combat the high blood sugars that come with steroid use.  It's serious, but once you've been in that moment where people are performing CPR on you and you're wishing you could just keep sleeping so, so peacefully things are never the same. 

I calmly explained that I had a history of aspiration pneumonia and it took me 3 months to recover.  My nurse asked me on the day of my discharge if there was an error in my chart, I didn't fit the profile for someone with this sort of history.  So I told her the story of how my nurse gave me an over dose of Dilauded and then didn't check my vitals for 6 hours.  She sat on the edge of my bed slack jawed and listened as I shared the experience including my shock to learn that after I was downgraded from the ICU and into the acute care floor I was assigned the same nurse.  The same nurse.  The one who gave me an over dose of pain medication that is between 6-10 times stronger than morphine depending upon who you ask.

But as I sit here sipping coffee and telling you these shocking details, I'm not angry any more.  Tears don't pour down my face in an ugly cry like they did the day I met Mary Tyler Mom for lunch in December.  There I sat, across from a Cancer Mom crying about how I came perilously close to leaving my children motherless.  Later, I read an update on her blog about how she had traveled past the hospital where Her Donna had spent many days prior to arriving at our meeting spot.  I recall passing it when I first arrived in Chicago and feeling that I was somehow on hallowed ground.  You see, when I was recovering from my pneumonia I read Donna's cancer story and fell in love with that girl.  I didn't notice that Sheila had been crying before we met for lunch, she didn't tear up at all as we talked and fell into what felt to me like such an easy conversation.  Now, that I don't cry when I reflect on these 9 months, I feel like such an ass.  Hey Cancer Mom, do you have a tissue I can honk my snot into?  Geez.

There have been a lot of changes, ups and downs in the last 9 months.  That will take a significant amount of time to document, so save up for buying the book mkay? *grin* Today, my former employer posted to Facebook that they are looking to hire a writer.  I could sit and stew about it.  I did for about a millisecond, and then I grabbed my laptop and keys and headed for Starbucks.  I have taught myself to use those moments to propel me forward not to sit and stew.  I got a letter in the mail indicating that my claim for unemployment was denied.  Turns out my former employer didn't report my wages. 

So here's the deal, friends.  And by friends I mean those of you who have sent boxes of diapers, pillows for the kids to sleep on, winter coats and boots, cases of baby food, love letters, gift cards so I could buy a nursing bra, mix tapes of love songs that served as a tether from my heart to yours across the miles, homemade strawberry freezer jam and a laptop for me to write and ultimately so that I could get the job I loved for the short time that I was there.  You are my tribe.  My people, and I love you.

Choose hope.  Choose love.

It's taken me nine long ass months to arrive here.  And by here, I don't mean the Clark Street Starbucks.  But in someways I do mean that as well.  I sat in this very chair and hammered out the copy for a 2000 item catalog nights and weekends.  Wrote every single word that became the website for the startup that lured me to Chicago with promises of equity in the business.

I am so hopeful for the future that sometimes it's hard to sit still with all the anticipation of good that must be coming our way.  Sometimes I'm so in love with this opportunity for peace and healing that I can't even believe I'm here in this moment.  And yet, we are in a holding pattern.  There is so much work to be done to propel ourselves into a better place.

I am choosing hope and loving those who are my tribe.  Loving those who recognize how damn hard this has been and instead of saying "I don't know how you do it?!" you tell me you're proud of me, of us.  This story of ours is certainly continuing to write itself and I am committed to sharing it.

Stay tuned.

Two Months Later

Does it come as any surprise that my last post was precisely two months ago today.  Of course not.

If you've been along for this bumpy ride I call life, you know that there has been magic happening behind the scenes.  I've been pressing on, denying myself the luxury of writing.  I'm a full time working mama now.  And you know what?  I am not me without writing this humble blog.

So, there's no way to truly catch you up to speed.  Let's just jump in where we are okay?

My morning started with a mile long walk to work where each of my footsteps are like a prayer pounding the pavement for strength and clarity.  And as I pull open the door to work everyday I inhale and say to myself "This is where I am today for a reason" and I start my day with such an immense feeling of gratitude.  Today was a bit different though.  We had a staff meeting and I was made aware of The Newtown Tragedy.  I have been living a Hands Free Life over the last week or so.  I don't watch TV, I'm not in the car listening to mindless radio reports while running errands or commuting and I had logged off of Facebook temporarily.  I listened as a coworker described the event that occurred on my youngest daughter's birthday.  A day I would not be able to spend with her for the first time in her life. 

This is where the inappropriate workplace tears came into play.  I felt my skin blanch white and my breathing go shallow as I envisioned my children's small, family-like Montessori elementary school under siege by a mad gunman.  I thought of my children's precious teachers, twin sisters, who give me such a feeling of peace as they teach and care for my babies while I am not there on a daily basis.  All of this flashed before my minds eye as enormous tears rolled down my cheeks.  I was too paralyzed by grief in the moment to excuse myself.

Not a very professional way to react, but a human reaction.  I am a human being, a mother first and foremost.  I thought about sending an apology via email for my out burst but what am I apologizing for?  Feeling?

Long after that morning outburst of emotion I walk home, each foot step on the mile long trek back to my studio apartment  thankful, appreciative and rhythmic.  I checked my mail, at first it appeared empty but I leaned down and peered closer.  Inside an envelop with familiar handwriting.  A Christmas card from one of my biggest fans.  A card bearing the beautiful image of Rachel and her family along with a heartfelt holiday letter was the perfect ending to my work day. 

The tears flowed once again when I read this message:

"You have received this letter because you have played a roll in the laughter, love, learning and light that makes our lives full"

When someone as genuine as Rachel conveys this, you feel it.  Right down to the core of me, I know that my connection to this gifted writer, who has exceeded the 1 Million hits milestone on her blog, was never a matter of coincidence but a matter of necessity for us both.  We have left footprints on each other's hearts and neither of us are anywhere near done writing our story.  Both literally and figuratively.

I am thankful for this life.  Place your right hand on your chest.  Feel that?  That means you're not done here yet.  I know this.

Boy do I ever.  I have experienced the feeling of life slipping away. Because on July 9, 2012 mine almost did.  Quietly, with shallow breath and blood sugar at deadly high levels I almost never arrived at this amazing place that challenges me as a wife, mother, friend and writer.  I've had some feelings of doubt recently.  Though I may be inspired to share my story, I'm no hero.  I fall down but as long as I have breath in these lungs I'm going to inhale deeply and get back up again.  And there will be tears, but I will unapologeticly carry on knowing that I am a work in progress.

I posted on Facebook that the doubt was creeping in.  I got a reply from my husbands former college roommate, a Marine, telling me to power through.  "I'm sure Dr King, Neil Armstrong and Teddy Roosevelt all felt doubt at one time".  His words felt like two arms reaching under my arms and picking me up to carry me across the finish line on that day.  Thank you, Dean.



I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move. - Tennyson

Serendipity

"I'm still holding out for some wonderful plan to present itself and reveal a path I have neglected to recognize."

This is what I expressed in my last blog post.  I've gone back and read it several times since last night.  The blog has been neglected, and to be honest there are a couple of people I was concerned may have stumbled upon my humble (and brutally honest) offering of words.  I unlinked the blog from a couple of networking sites in a moment of conflict and panic.

I am no longer in a holding pattern.  A potential path has presented itself and the few people who know about what's happening behind the scenes have expressed they were overwhelming convinced that something amazing is on the horizon.  One friend described actually getting goosebumps, another jumped up and down with excitement on my behalf.  I remain rather level headed about the emails that have been exchanged back and forth, reveling in the opportunity to connect and not jumping to any conclusions.  However, I am utterly convinced that I would be an ideal fit for this venture.

No, it's not a book deal.  I am not quite there, but this will certainly provide the final chapters for my memoir.  I shared my excitement on Facebook, and received questions regarding my vague excitement.  I'm not really at liberty to share, but I want to put it out there so you shouldn't be shocked when life truly does make a u-turn as I've described it in the past.

Over coffee on Monday, I told the story of how Eric and I met.  I'm not sure I've shared that here?  I was sharing this to convey the message that the most amazing events of my adult life have been moments that arrived out of nowhere and set forth a path for me.  The person sitting across from me said it made sense, this serendipitous way of life.  Yes, I had nodded, glad that someone else who had only just met me could instantly grasp this! 

Here I sit, home alone with the dog resting her head on my lap.  The two youngest at the doctor with their Dad, a dry cough and the sniffles.  I may not be sitting still much for the next year of my life at a very minimum.  I won't be the one taking sick kids to the doctor or snuggling my "thera-puppy" as she's been by my side since the hospital tried to kill me.  See, I said it,  I've been worried about calling it what it is. But when you're given a double dose of heavy duty pain medication and found barely breathing, there is no nice way to say it.  The nurse came perilously close to ending my life.

So, my lovely friends, I know that all the happenings of my life make me who I am.  I know that the casual meeting over coffee that I had on Monday was really the product of serendipity, providential even.  An event that I can track back to networking and relationships I cultivated back in 2008.  Can you feel the excitement?  I'll say it again, the things that are coming together in my life right now are going to form the end chapters of my book.  Not only are the last chapters being resolved, but a whole new story is very close to being mapped out.  Here's the best part, it has nothing to do with being a nominee for Best Supporting Actress as my Leading Man takes our life to the next level. 

No. I can take us to the next level.

Maggie Happened

What to do, what to do?

Our firstborn monkey is a high school junior.  She turned 17 this summer so she will be 18 before her senior year starts.  I am struggling with all of this.  For the obvious reasons such as: my first child getting ready to begin a more independent life, starting college etc. but also because we are in a holding pattern of sorts.

one of my favorite books from childhood

I accidentally allowed my husband to take this pic of the two of us the other night.  He promised he wouldn't post it to Facebook. Interestingly, I caught wind of a post that speaks about the oh so common situation of mom's not being documented in family photos.  So, here you go, a pic I would never have let slip even as recently as a few months ago is now on display for all of you...whoever you stalkers are.  I had my hair in a perma-pony and it was giving me a scalp ache so I had just pulled the hair band out of my hair.  Attractive eh?  I bet this is going to be all the rage on Pinterest now.  A deconstructed ponytail it will be called.

So that holding pattern is both literal and figurative.  She's skinny and I could easily grab her and lock her in my closet for the next 10 years until I'm ready for her to be an adult, but also we are stuck here in this town until she graduates.  We'd be crazy to think that we could lure her away to another location even if the perfect home/job/life opportunity presented itself.  We're not even to the first progress report of this school year and I'm holding my breath thinking about the end of next year.  I was thinking hard about this before I went to the chiropractor earlier today to get some help with my headaches.  And my blood pressure was seriously impaired by the stress.  It consumes me.  I want to do the right thing for her, I want my husband to find a lucrative career and a new home to suit our large family, but somehow not all of these things seem to work in synchronicity.  At least within the landscape of my own mind.  I'm still holding out for some wonderful plan to present itself and reveal a path I have neglected to recognize.

She's not naked, I promise.  See her dress is showing a teeny bit.

She just attended homecoming last weekend with her boyfriend.  No, I don't mean boy friend as in a boy who she carpools with, eats lunch next to at school and considers to be a close pal.  I mean boyfriend as in an already graduated (this past May) adult male who has his own place, drives a truck and goes to college.  GAH!  Can't we just turn back the hands of time have a tea party?!

This is how it goes when you have an unplanned pregnancy.  Maggie happened.  I've been trying to catch up with life ever since, and it's been pretty remarkable.  I can not imagine our life without her, I'm certain we would have married and had kids eventually, but her arrival set things in motion.  Here I am not understanding where this young lady who wears a b-r-a and has her monthly visitor and holds hands with boys came from.  Were we just hosting a birthday party with pony rides?  I'm pretty sure that's the case.

Homecoming

She has a massive collection of friends, and one very best friend, Sam.  I am so glad they have each other through the ups and downs of the turbulence that is teenage life.  I hope they remain close because it's my experience that those you go through those years of your life prove to be the ones who hold you up later in life when your knees buckle.  I have a Sam in my life too, and a Cara and an Adrienne.  Despite the years and miles I still feel they are some of the most special people I've collected along my journey.

My Sam and Parker

I hate that I can't just let myself be.  I am ever worrying and wishing for the next phase of our life to begin.  And, no, I don't mean being a grandma!  I wanted so badly for things to make a u-turn and allow Maggie to enjoy the less stressful pace of life that flows from having a father who is employed, a house that accommodates us, funds that will allow her to get braces and take drivers education, but it seems that's not how the story is written.

Here we are, trying to figure out if we can make the sacrifice to stay put for the sake of our daughter.  Will it benefit the other kids?  They are in an excellent fee-free charter Montessori school that we love more than any other school we've been involved with.  I can see that they would benefit from continuing there, but that's also because we don't know what other opportunities we might be dismissing simply by not putting ourselves out there.  Then, we have a 13 year old daughter who we need to be planning for.  She will be in high school next fall as a freshman.  What are the implications for her?  So much to figure out, it's exhausting as you can see.  I'm just going back to my earlier inclination to lock them up, the 13 year old is also stunningly gorgeous.  This is based upon the impartial feedback from people other than her parents, such as her grandparents. *snort*

Hannah 9/24/12