Adrenaline Detox

October.

October has truly been an adrenaline detox, at least for me. Our summer of busyness merged into an autumn of calm. We’re in our new house, and the majority of work on the exterior that we had planned to get done before winter is complete -we surprised even ourselves at how we met that goal. The garden is harvested. My work has slowed down, my husband’s too, somewhat. We’ve kept socializing to a minimum due to the illnesses spiralling through the congregation in recent weeks. It’s been quiet. 

Involuntary Detox

Like all ddetoxes, it hasn’t been painless. I chafe under the weight of too many days of getting nothing accomplished. I pine for the faces of the children I cared all spring and summer. I even miss the adrenaline high of chasing a runaway 8 year old across the city of Yorkton when he took off in anger after a fight with his auntie. 

I certainly didn’t plan to spend half of September and most of October motionless. I didn’t plan that I would have no work in the last few weeks, although to some extent I am grateful for that. I do know from other years that there is almost always a few weeks of lull between finishing up the last outside jobs and starting the rush of winter work. This year I’m hoping that lull lasts a little longer than usual so we can get more things done in this house before the busy towing season starts. 

I still get the occasional adrenaline rush. 

Sometimes I have to race the sun. Like the night I needed to get to Pelly to unlock a difficult dodge truck before daylight ran out. I lost that race. I also forgot my step stool. Luckily Mr and Mrs Ukraine were kind enough to 1. Find me an ancient chair to stand on and 2. hold a flashlight so I could see what I was doing. #amateurbreak-inartist 

I juggle the children, which can be exciting. Especially when they’re used to following their own rules, but they’re at my house so I have to enforce my rules to keep them safe. Example #1: we don’t take off walking across the field without telling anyone where we’re going. When I figure out where they are I practice not yelling frantically at them that they knew better. Also, BTT and I get to practice our parenting. (We’re bad at it) Him: “I though we’d decided only 2 kids on the quad. Why are you letting 3 of them ride at once?” Me: “I told them only 2 on the quad. I thought you were the one who let them all ride together!” Clearly we need to up our communication game. 

I play midnight chase vehicle to ambulances with a little brother and my husband inside. BTT and I take turns sitting anxiously by an emergency room hospital bed watching our child transition slowly back to reality and squinting into the neon lights of the hospital parking lot hoping for some epiphany to come out of this long sleepless night. (I never asked Brent if he was hoping for an epiphany, but I was.) Morning finally came and with it discharge; we heralded the sunrise by feeding the baby bird tiny bites of still-warm doughnut and half a can of Pepsi on the drive home and also venting frustration at the lack of answers /help we had received for him. (This is the same little brother I wrote about in the post No One Talks About the Days.) 

Conclusion. 

I have spent days trying to come up with the concluding paragraph I used to teach my students about. I’m continuously blank about how to complete this post or even how to edit it for readability, typos, grammar and interestingness. Okay. Thanks. Bye. (This ending is for you, Sister.)