This is my way of posting a message in a bottle.
I’m at work using the last few minutes of my lunch hour. I feel lousy – I have a terrible cold, no voice and really just want to go home and sleep under my big white duvet.
I want my bed.
Then I remember that the last time Mr. Sensitive slept in my bed he peed in it. And we tried to sop up the puddle of little boy pee as best we could, but it soaked into the mattress because I forgot to put the mattress cover back on. (Actually, the cover was already in the laundry, but that’s a whole other story.) So we piled a bunch of paper towels on top then sandwiched a bed protector on top of it and hoped for the best.
Hubby sleeps on that side anyway.
If this does not epitomize Keep Calm and Carry On, I don’t know what does.
So I’m at work, hiding at my desk with my laptop with a bowl of soup and cup of tea beside me. I am trying hard not to think about what tomorrow brings (when I have to work, again). Right now you could say I’m ‘fake working.’
I have a serious case of sick and tired, with a side of utter exhaustion. My goal for today is to simply survive. I just want to go home, but not the home we currently live in.
Every Fall for as long I can remember I’ve been filled with an overwhelming desire to move to the north. Spruce trees, bogs, permafrost and a midnight sun have filled my mind since I can remember. As a child I grew up alongside Buck from Call of the Wild and the countless adventures of Farley Mowatt.
I’ve almost gone to the Arctic countless times, but something always gets in the way.
Right now Hubby and I are talking about it again. We have been bouncing around the idea of relocating to the Arctic for about ten years now, and the time never seemed right.
Now the time is right, but as a super-powered special need mama there are certain city things I want/need. Healthcare is not vital, but really important. We can deal with emergencies as they come up and for everything else there is a nurse practitioner in the community. Food, shelter, supplies – we know we can deal with the demands of northern living.
But the bottom line is somewhere along the line I like some conveniences of living about an hour from a city. Up there we’d have to fly in everything. As much as I like outdoor living, I know my children can only deal with temperatures of -20 C (with no windchill). A winter in Ontario can be cold and snowy (- 20 C is not uncommon), and in Smalltown, Ontario where we will move snowdrifts can be 6 feet high. Up there we’d be in the realm of -40 C with little snow.
And the thought of being stuck indoors all winter with three young children is reminiscent of The Shining. You know it’s not going to end well.
Recently I spent the entire day with Mr. Sensitive outdoors. You may have heard about ‘Nature-Deficit Disorder,’ and Mr. Sensitive is the poster child of what happens when a child is indoors too much. Anxious, whiny, irritable and bouncing off furniture, he can only deal with indoor life for a short while.
A truly ‘out of synch’ kid, Mr. Sensitive becomes ‘normal’ outdoors. He lies on rocks, throws leaves and is happy. He actually listens to us when he’s outside.
We want adventure, new challenges, but the idea of choosing a snowbound lifestyle is ridiculous. I need to tell myself this, and focus on what’s really important.
Mr. Sensitive wants a house. He talks about his friend’s houses. He looks at houses in the newspaper and as we drive past them. He points out the car window and announces that, “We can live in that house! My best friend can sleep over!” (We then explain that someone is already living in that house.)
Every time we visit my parents, and they step out for a while Mr. Sensitive announces that, ‘Since Granny and Grandpa moved out, we can move into their house.’ Umm, they’ve just gone for groceries.
Recently Hubby received a long-awaited cheque in the mail. I had no idea Mr. Sensitive followed our conversations so closely – he was busy with Lego, and suddenly turned toward us and asked, “Can we get a house now?”
Soon enough we will.