on my own...

I’ve spent the better part of the past week trying to figure out how people handle single parenthood.  Seriously.  I’m a giant wimp.  Huge.  But I just don’t know how people manage this all the time.  I know plenty of women (and men, for that matter) who are single parents, and they just seem to make things work, but I’m that girl who will put it all out there for you and I have to say that I suck at this.  Steve is out of town on business this week and while it’s really quiet at night – something I always long for, to be honest – I’m just sick of being the bad guy all the time, simply because I’m the ONLY guy.  The juggling of schedules and packing of lunches and bathing of bodies and wiping of butts is one thing I’m pretty good at and I don’t mind.  I think I would lose my mind if I weren’t this busy.  It’s the lack of adult contact that is driving me insane.  It’s knowing that no one is going to walk in the door at 5:30pm and just run interference so I can cook dinner or pack lunches or just talk me off the ledge the kids have forced me upon, even if I bitch and complain about that person.  Which, I have been known to do – just ask him!

My point is that I have a new respect for all of those people in my life who are raising children on their own.  Big children, small children – really, anyone who is making rules and keeping them without losing their mind.  And honestly, I would like to write more about this, but I’m more tired than I’ve been since having a newborn, so I will leave it at that.   

a story worth revisiting

I rarely feel the need to write about the same thing twice. Well, unless it’s my children, myself or my mother. So, nevermind. I should say that I rarely feel the need to comment on a news story more than once. Today seems different and I have been glued to the television this evening. I sobbed and bawled watching the rescue of the 33 Chilean miners. It’s honestly been amazing to watch. The stories of these men and the time they spent in that mine are really nothing short of astounding. That they were able to ration food, ration the lights in their helmets, drill into a natural water source, and, in the midst of such uncertainty, maintain their wits – or at least it certainly seemed that way watching the rescue – the future is bound to tell that story. My favorite story to come out of this so far is of the two men who were driving one of the trucks in the mine. I watched one of them (miner #11) get pulled from the mineshaft this morning before I left for work. These two men stopped to look at a white butterfly that they saw flying by them – 2000+ feet down. In a MINE. That white butterfly surely saved the lives of those men – as they were stopped to see the insect, the mine collapsed. If they had kept driving, they would not have survived. I have said before that I believe in signs and if that wasn’t a sign of some sort of divine intervention, I don’t know what is.

I don’t know. I’m pretty emotional these days. Maybe I’m way too invested in this story. I’m just so happy to have been able to watch this unfold and to share some of it with Lucy. The ending of this story could have been so different. Mostly, for me, it’s been a reminder to me in a time that I really, really needed a reminder, that people really are good. That, deep down, the human spirit is truly something phenomenal.

this is not butcher holler.

I’m completely claustrophobic.  That, and I don’t like to know about other people’s bodily functions.  So, pretty much what I’m saying here is that I would be in the first group of people to leave the Chilean mine this week.  Well, maybe not the first group, but I’d definitely be in the “crazy” group.  Seriously, I’ve taken a sort of sick interest in this story. I mean, it’s terrible to begin with, but there are all of the unknowns that no one seems to be talking about. Like, where do those guys poop? (what? Like you didn’t wonder?) or, what could you possibly talk about or do for TWO months that could be entertaining? Or, has anyone gone completely batshit crazy? Because, really, that is the action that I would love to be in on.  I mean, it sounds really terrible, but really I just want to know what it’s like to be down there. 

I would like to state for the record that I don’t care how much it pays or how much Mountain Dew you can drink, mining is perhaps the most insane profession on the planet.  I’m not going to lie, I honestly think that something must be wrong with a person who decides to go into that kind of work.  What, exactly is it that keeps you going down there every day? I know. I really do – I watch PBS and I know that it’s a great salary for those people who aren’t willing or able to finish school or work in different jobs.  It has to be a huge temptation for those kids.  Wanna know why it pays that well?  Here. Let me tell you.  One day, you will go to work and the way you get to work will crumble down behind you, and you will rely on a device similar to a bank tube to get you out of that mess.  And that’s if you survive.  I’m just saying – mining is just a little crazy.  I feel like maybe, had I lived in the rural south or maybe even in Chile, I might have dated one of those miner dudes in my past life – I do like the crazy, you know.

I know that I’m not saying anything rational or even very nice about this terrible situation – I mean, really? Is there anything rational to say? I’m just saying it’s been amazing to watch.  Sort of like Baby Jessica in that well all those years ago – remember that?  I wish only the best for these poor men.  I hope that this ends up to be a story of hope and of salvation – because it’s been too painful to watch over the past two months for any other outcome.