Life in the hutch

At the beginning of this year Willy was presented with an opportunity that would have allowed our family to move to Bangalore, India for a year.  We were both very excited, and started the ball rolling on the various hurdles that needed to be cleared.  It was a very exciting time for us both, as we have both wanted to travel to India together, and wanted to have our family experience living in another country, another culture. 

The weeks that followed were filled with anticipation, excitement, and stress.  We didn’t tell our families or friends, as we knew nothing was certain.  I only had Willy to talk about this with. He would come home and almost every day I would ask what was happening, if he knew anything, when he would know anything, and why he didn’t know anything.   I started to make plans with an eye to the future, trying to figure out what I could and could not commit too, and what we need to do to ensure that the lils would thrive in this new environment.  

The weeks turned into months and things progressed incredibly slowly.  Just when it looked like the trip was no longer going to happen, there was a small bit of forward progress.  I am sure that there were lots of things happening behind the scenes, but this was what I saw.  It frustrated me and had me on edge. 

Finally, in late March, it looked like there was no possibility of travel to India, and we closed that door. It was very sad, as I had really hoped that we would have this wonderful experience.  It was also a relief, an end to the stress and uncertainty, and meant that I would not have to face all my fears for the family about moving to a completely new world.

Life went back to normal.  We planned for the summer and fall, started talking about family vacations, school for Woo, new adventures for Goose, and just living life.  Then Willy sent me an email. India was back on if we wanted it, and had cleared almost all of the organizational hurdles.

It means that he and I will likely be going to India in the next couple of weeks to look for a place to live and ensure that we can get both lils into school, JK for Woo, and nursery school for Goose.  If all can be put in place, we’ll return home and pack up our lil family for this new adventure!

I’ve written a million pro/con lists about the trip.  There are some cons, and some things that we will all miss out on.  We will all miss our families, friends and our fabulous daycare.  Our life will turn upside-down for a while, but it will right itself.  There will be new things to see and do, new people to meet, and many wonderful experiences.  We might hate it, but we might just love it.  That is why we can’t miss this opportunity.  We’re moving to India. Soon. Really, really soon. 

I’m hanging out in San Diego this week for Blogher’11.  It’s been a fabulous trip so far, and still have three more days. The conference itself is only two days long, but in coming here I decided to make this a six day weekend.  It’s what Willy does when he goes away golfing… So this is a case of what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.

When I woke on thursday morning, our first morning here, I rolled over in bed to find someone in bed with me. I was sure that I had gone to bed alone, but I didn’t panic.  It took me a minute to recognize that it was just my roomie Anna, who had arrived in the night.  It was a weird experience waking to someone who wasn’t there when I went to sleep. Anna had been very concerned about waking us when she came in.  She does stealthy well. 

We all woke before five, but lay in the dark talking.  It was relaxing and nice to be able to enjoy a peaceful morning.  Three of us went off to breakfast, and found a restaurant that looked decent and was populated by locals.  The service was spotty, and coffee bad, but the food was good so it was a bit of a wash.  As our meal was ending, I asked the waiter where the washroom was.  He looked at me blankly for a minute and then struggled to find the word restroom in asking for for clarification.  I looked up and said, “sorry, Canadian” as a way to explain my word choice.  He shrugged his shouders and said, “s’okay, Mexican” with a smile.

Later in the day my other roomie Krista and I headed for lunch.  We found a lovely little crepe place and sat on the patio.  Our meal was interrupted a couple of times by the sounds of a very loud argument across the street.  A couple appeared to be having a fight, and when I looked up I could see what appear to be clothing flying.  We remarked on it, thinking that it was quite the row. I sort of half listened, just to make sure that all was ok.  A couple of minutes later I heard another sharp yell, and looked up to see the couple having an animated discussion while folding laundry.  Clearly not a serious fight if they were still doing household chores.

Krista and I had a fun and relaxing day together, and I told her as much, that I thought we made good travel partners, and that I would travel with her again.  She smiled, and we continued to enjoy our day.  A couple of hours later she told me that she thought she could travel with me elsewhere too.  I teased her about having taken so long to return the favour and she likened it to saying I love you – you can’t just throw it out there rashly.  At least now we’ve both said our travel I love you’s!

It was a good day in San Diego.

Some of my oldest memories of our family cottage involve mice…  They invaded the cottage with alarming regularity, which meant that our first chore upon arrival was to wash all of the dishes, change the beds, and hunt down all of the places where they hid all the macaroni noodles.  Years later, long after we have sealed all of the holes that they were sneaking in through, we are still finding noodles.

My mom instilled a healthy fear of the mice into me.  Her shrieking and clamouring for the highest piece of furniture that could be climbed on once a mouse was spotted was quite legendary. Soon enough, I was following her onto the coffee table.  It took me a long time to get over this irrational fear of mice, but I am pretty much over it, although I am still not a big fan of mice.

The family is pretty split on how they feel about the mice.  Willy is not bothered at all by them, and doesn’t seem to mind sharing his house with them.  Woo loves ALL living things, and would be crushed to know that we have displaced them, let alone terminated some.  Goose is pretty much oblivious now, but I am certain that right now she would be joining her grandmother on the kitchen table, given how she reacts to house flies.

When I was in my teens, I set out to light the barbecue at the cottage one night. Remembering to open the lid (that’s another story), I lit it and looked inside to see a tiny mouse, a la feu! I squealed, it squealed and escaped quickly, only to sit in shock on the patio.  It was still smoldering, I was still squealing, and my mom helpfully instructed me to turn the hose on it. I misted it and it ran off. 

Last week Willy came in after lighting the ‘que at home and he had that look in his eyes, that I need to tell you this look.  “I just relived your mouse in the barbecue story”, he said, “except there is a twist.” Apparently when the mouse escaped the BBQ, it landed on the deck then quickly leapt to the bushes. Where it landed on the cat’s back.

Minnie is in no way ambivalent in her feelings toward mice.  Although she failed to catch the ones that moved into the house in the winter, she has caught a number of mice at the cottage and in the yard. She does this while tied to a leash, so I’d have to say that she is a decent mouser.  I know this because she presents me with her catch on a semi-regular basis. Landing on Minnie was a case of out the fire and into the frying pan. Suffice to say that the tussle that ensued left us with no doubt as to who won this round.

I remember the day that it happened.  A beautiful and hot day in July.  We had just come home from a long walk.  Woo was hungry and wet, so I went upstairs to change him while his bottle warmed.  He was his usual happy and playful self, not yet fussy, but getting there, so we headed downstairs.

I fell.

I lost my footing and we tumbled down the last two stairs, falling forward.  My knees hit the floor first, then my elbows, then Woo. Onto the slate tile. It was so silent for an eternity, then we both freaked out.  He cried and fought to stay awake while I cried and called Willy.  He rushed home and we headed to the closest hospital. I should have called 911, but I had never been faced with a situation where you would need to call 911. I called Willy and he came running.

We were fast tracked at the hospital. It wasn’t a pediatric hospital so it was a bit of a comedy of errors trying to get his vitals taken, but we quickly got to see a doctor. Woo had perked up by this time, and charmed said doctor and everyone else around, which was incredibly normal for my lil man. He was thoroughly checked out, and we were sent home with instructions to watch him for any changes, any pattern of abnormal behaviour. Which is not the easiest thing with a four month old. Normal is the lack of routine!

I watched him like a hawk for the rest of that day looking for any little change in his behaviour. He was his usual unpredictable self, but I over analyzed his every move. There were no significant changes until he vomited his bottle right before bed. Then I knew what they meant. This was not normal. It wasn’t a pattern and he wasn’t distressed, so he settled in to bed, and we carried on with the evening. I was stressed and blaming myself, but he was OK, so I was almost OK. Until he vomited his next bottle.

We called tele-health, and they sent us backto the hospital that we had been to that morning. They again checked him over and had us stay overnight for observation. I watched him sleep that entire long night, and then fed him in the morning. He was fine for a while, but then sick again, so they sent us to CHEO, where he was poked and prodded some more, and sent for a CT, which showed that his skull was fractured.

My poor little baby had a fractured skull. I fractured his skull. I felt like the world’s worst mother. A small part of me still does when I think about it. There was no treatment, and other than the added doctor’s appointments over the next year, you would never know it had happened.

I knew. He was so young when it happened.  I spent the next year or so agonizing over every milestone, watching his every reaction, searching for something that wasn’t there. I am sure that I drove Willy nuts with my concerns, but he never let on. I was positive that I had “broken” him in some way. He’s still perfect, and for that I am so grateful.

It still haunts me to this day. It doesn’t happen every time I walk down the stairs, but I frequently replay that day in my mind. When I am carrying one of the lils, or even the cat, I clutch them a little bit tighter on those stairs. Now that the lils are older and freely moving up and down the stairs, I am forever trying to be there as they go. To catch them if they fall.  Watching them horse around on that very set of stairs kills me, and I forever preach to them that it is NOT ALLOWED. They mostly listen, thankfully.

As I was leaving CHEO on that fateful day, a nurse stopped me and asked if I was OK. I started to tell her that I had no physical injuries, but she stopped me and asked how I was emotionally. I said that I was shaken, but would be fine. It’s taken me a long time, and I am getting closer, but I am still not fine. Getting better about it, but definitely not fine.

It’s catching. First it was the lils, and for them the last three weeks have been hard. We thought it was getting used to the lack of schedule and no day care in July. We blamed it on travel, on the late bed times. Then there was Woo’s summer camp and the fact that they were separated for a couple of weeks, then more travel. It’s constant though. They’re still out of sorts, and it never ends well. The crying, the tears, the fights, the hitting, the tantrums…

This week it’s us. I know that I am off, and Willy admits the same. He has deadlines and stress at work, I can’t get anything done most days. I am not adjusting well to having the lils n e e d me all day long every day, and I am so very overstimulated by the constant noise and attention. I have not gotten any work in, other than a quick trip to the office last week. There are things I need and want to do and can’t. Things I should be doing and don’t or I get so easily distracted from. Then there are all the things that might be happening, that we aren’t sure of, and that have yet to break or invade our home. They are wearing on me. Plus the crying, the tears, the fights, (no hitting) the tantrums…

It’s hot, I am tired, rambling and out of sorts. I don’t like it one bit.