A little healing goes a long way
I’m going to go ahead and say that it has not been a great day today.
I’ll also be honest and say that as I start typing this post, I am mad and frustrated.
I had high hopes of adventuring with Greta today: the library, lunch, perhaps some crafting or art. I am soaking these long days with her before preschool starts and delighting in her four-year-old self. Yesterday she was my sidekick as we went to the oncology office for my saline infusion; getting a liter of fluid is proving to make me feel better in the post treatment funkiness, so I’m doing it every treatment. Greta colored, ate snacks, and charmed the nurses. She got a warm blanket for me and held my hand when she thought I should be brave. Her sweetness is potent and I love having her as my buddy; she makes the mundane fun and the average extraordinary.
I knew it was bad when I sloshed through the threshold of my master bath from the master bedroom. Water. A lot of water. The bathroom floor and baseboards were covered, the carpet and padding in half our bedroom are water-logged. I threw towels–all our towels at the problem and then I went to the garage for the shop vac. My eyes didn’t want to believe what they were seeing: water raining down from the ceiling above. Not good. So very not good.
I was that wife who called Brad with that news. (I hate being that wife.) I called my dad (since Brad is in the middle of a deadline) with the “how do I convert the shop vac to a wet vac?” question.
As this is our second flood this year (I know, right?), I know what to do. Just like last time, the threat of mold growing in dampness means that we need professionals. The water remediators, the carpet haulers, the industrial equipment. I vacuumed eight gallons of water out of the carpet because I feel like I need to do something. Now I’m woozy and need to stop, so I’m forcing myself to sit and wait for the professionals to handle it. It’s only money and stuff; I’ve handled (way) bigger problems than this before.
I handle way bigger problems than this every day, actually. Sigh.
It’s exhausting, shouldering big problems. I need strength and that’s my prayer request today.
It’s fine. I’m processing out my frustration and regaining my perspective on what matters. I’m sitting and typing and breathing as I need to do something to keep myself in rest mode so I don’t run myself into the ground. Little Greta has donned her doctor outfit and is doctoring me. Her medicine is doing just what I need it to do today: our day together is still happening, and my attitude will determine whether it is a success or failure. She deserves a present, cheerful mama who is not sidelined by her circumstances. Little does she know that as she gives me shots, bandages me, and inspects my pretend injuries, she is healing me with her love and her innocence.
As I end this post, I’m calmer, cheered, breathing better. A little girl is peering into my ear with her toy otoscope, and I imagine she sees only happy thoughts.
Today is a good day.