Curve Balls

Last Monday evening I threw myself a little victory party; I had just completed boxing up our kitchen, which meant everything was packed to be shipped up to Nunavut for our grand adventure which was to begin in July. All that was left was the bedding and the toys, but I wanted to wait until the night before the movers came to pack these critical items. This was a huge job! I spent all of April sorting, packing, purging and giving away items we no longer needed, and now that it was done, I was itching to get on with the next phase of  our life. 

I texted Mr. Level-Headed each morning wondering if he had, in fact, received the go-ahead from his boss to book the movers. We only had one more week left if we wanted to get our stuff on the first sea-lift of the season, but unfortunately, the new president of Derrick's company seemed uncomfortable with making final decisions. He kept putting it off and assuring Derrick that he was simply finalizing the details of our move.

By Thursday afternoon, I was getting anxious:

Have you talked to David today?

No reply.

An hour later, Mr. Level-Headed responded to my text:

Yes, I did. My job was terminated.

And just like that, it was over.

We are not moving to Nunavut.The boys will not be riding a Ski-doo to school. The babies and I will not be working in the local library. Mr. Level-Headed is home. We do not have a job, and we have no idea what is next. 

And why do we no longer have a job? Well, it all comes down to a local election and Mr. Level-Headed being on the losing side, which was drawn upon lines he did not even realize were there - small town politics at your best.

Anyhoo . . . 

So, here we are, and to tell you the truth, I am heart-broken. Sure, I am a bit relieved that I do not have to move to the land of perpetual winter, or say goodbye to friends and family, but I am sad. Mr. Level-Headed loved his job! He was excited about the work he was doing, and he grew very fond of the community he has lived in for the past six months. I feel terrible for him. 

I am also sad because, as crazy as it sounds, I was really looking forward to moving to Rankin. I wanted to learn how to drive an ATV. I wanted to see the Northern Lights. I wanted my boys to learn how to hunt caribou and carve knives. I wanted to experience what twenty-two hours of sunlight feels like. I wanted to experience something new and something different. I wanted an adventure.

Life is crazy! Like I told the kids, the only thing you can hope for in this life is a chance to breathe in between dodging all the curve balls it throws your way, and the only way you will survive is by being thankful for what you do have. Right now, my entire family is together under one roof. Mr. Level-Headed was given a good severance package, so we should be okay until he finds another job, and Zoe is healthy. In all honesty, life is pretty good right now and I am guessing that this is my time to take a couple deep breaths and prepare myself for whatever is coming up next . . . 

Like unpacking all those boxes . . . ugh!

God sure has a strange sense of humour . . . tee hee!

And for no other reason than she is adorable and she brightens my day, here is little Miss Harriet:

Yeah, I think we are going to be just fine.

He's Finally Got It!

We skype with Mr. Level-Headed every night. While most of us are eager to talk to him and share stories from our day, Leif has been reluctant to join in. He would sometimes wave to daddy, but more times than not, he would cry and run away from the computer. Tonight was different, though, and I am sure it made Mr. Level-Headed pretty happy. Tonight, Leif dragged a chair over to the computer, pushed me out of the way, screamed "No, Mom" and then proceeded to talk to his daddy. It was the cutest thing ever! Leif needed this tonight and so did his daddy. They talked about his day and about his birthday that is coming up in ten days. How did that happen?! Then Leif showed him his ball . . .  no surprise there. When it was time to go, Leif waved and ran off to play. A little later, while Leif was eating supper and I was seated in the living room getting Harriet ready for bed. I noticed that he suddenly became very quiet and watched as his head hung low.

Leif, are you okay buddy?

He got down from his chair and ran over to me. He wrapped his tiny arms around my neck and whispered:

I sad.

Awwww, baby.

I held him close for a couple minutes and reassured him that his daddy will be coming home and that he loves him very much. Having Mr. Level-Headed away has been hard on all of us, but I honestly think it has been hardest on Leif because he has no idea where his daddy has gone or why. And since Harriet joined our family, he and Mr. Level-Headed had become the bestest of buddies. It makes me sad to think that Leif misses his daddy so much and vice versa, but watching them tonight made me so  happy. Leif is one very lucky boy to have a daddy that loves him and his siblings enough to make this huge sacrifice for them and their future, and before we know it, his daddy will be home where he belongs. I can't wait to see the look on Leif's face when Mr. Level-Headed gets off that airplane. It will be the sweetest of reunions.

We love you, Mr. Level-Headed!

 . . . 7 more Fridays

And yes, that is a beard that is beginning to sprout on my man's face. Is he trying to make this harder on me?! Ahhhhh! I love my man with a beard.

  

Our New Normal

We, humans, are amazing creatures! One of our most extraordinary features is our incredible ability to adapt. No matter what our surroundings are or the circumstances we find ourselves in, we, humans, learn to survive and sometimes even thrive. 

Today, Zoe and I met with a new doctor, who was discussing some options that may help Zoe to manage her colitis in the future. At one point, she remarked upon Zoe's incredible ability to function on a hemoglobin level that is thirty points below what is considered to be normal.

Zoe, this has become your baseline and your body has adjusted to it. I think you have forgotten what it feels like to be "healthy". In a sense, this is your new normal.

This was one of those light-bulb moments for us, and we both quickly nodded in agreement. Over the past four years, it has become normal for Zoe to be pale, to grow tired quickly, to eat lots of tiny meals throughout the day, and to look lethargic out on the soccer field, but yet, she gets up each day, she works, she goes to school and she continues to play soccer even though her body is operating at a reduced capacity. In short, Zoe has adapted.

And I hope Shenanigans Inc. can do the same. 

On Monday, Mr. Level-Headed and I celebrated the 24th anniversary of when we met one another with a couple of donairs from Greco. We are so romantic . . . tee hee! Then on Tuesday morning, we kissed each other goodbye and he boarded a plane for Nunavut. Yes, I said Nunavut and yes, I mean THAT Nunavut, the land of ice and snow and that's pretty much it except for a couple of polar bears, and well, now, my husband.

To all those people who look at me in horror when I say that my husband has accepted a job in Nunavut and ask:

Why did you let him go?

The short answer is that we had no choice. When you have five babies and one of those babies is heading off to university in a year and someone offers the daddy of those five babies a job that allows him to actually afford his five babies then that daddy says:

When do you need me?

and the mommy of those five babies says:

Honey, it is time to buy you a parka.

So, yeah, Shenanigans Inc. has been turned upside down, and it is being forced to temporarily operate on less-than ideal circumstances, but that is okay. I know that like Zoe, we will adapt. When Leif suddenly wakes up and vomits all over himself, me and the bed, I will be able to comfort him, bathe him and change the bedding all by myself. When after a long day spent at the hospital with Zoe and Harriet and my tire suddenly decides to deflate while I am trying to put air into it at the Irving, I will call a family member to come to my rescue. I will learn to do things without him by my side. I will survive, but do you know what? I refuse to thrive. You see I am not scared of the extra work. I am not scared of being the lone ringmaster of this gong show, but I am scared. I am scared of the day when I no longer think to call out his name for help, which I did last night when Leif was sick even though he was not there, or the day when I am in trouble and his phone number is not the first I dial, like I did today when my tire deflated even though his phone is disconnected. I need Mr. Level-Headed in my life. He puts the Inc. in our shenanigans. So, no matter how far apart we may be physically, Mr. Level-Headed and I will never truly be apart because yes, we humans do have an incredible ability to adapt, but even more remarkable is our ability to love.

I love you, Mr. Level-Headed , . . .  right up to Nunavut and back.