Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Day 29 on Lexapro.

Day 6 on Lamictal.

written 1 day later.

posted 2 weeks later.

I’m a friend of thunder/
So it isn’t any wonder
Lightning strikes me/
But I’ll put this cloud
Behind me/
That’s how the man
Designed me.

– I’m No Stranger to the Rain

This day was not super easy. I was okay at work, but then I decided to run errands — one necessary and one not. The unnecessary one consisted of me picking up some refills so my house would smell good. Yankee Candle clean cotton for my bedroom and bathroom and some new ones for my living room and dining room. Some sort of cinammony flavor. I took them home and plugged them in. I was extremely delighted with the results. Then, I sprayed my new fabric Febreze on all the fabric in the house and my new air Febreze in all of the rooms. I admit all of the new smells were a bit overwhelming at first. But, when the fumes died down, my house smelled nice.

It smelled nice.

And it was getting so clean. What a thrill.

This was a day, though, that a bit of depression crept back in. And a bit of anger. I hate that it doesn’t just go away immediately. I hate that it can still needlessly resurface after such a great day. But, I was tired. Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed out so late the night before. Maybe I still shouldn’t be out running needless errands. I need to remember to take it easy with myself physically. Every day I get better, every day I get more energy…but I still can’t forget to take care of myself. For a while, I will have to be conscientious about my level of activity.

But at least now I can clean for longer periods of time. And I can cook dinner. And take much better care of Em.

This afternoon, she stood over me as I swept all sorts of junk into the dustpan. The floor was a horrible mess.

“Em, I have to tell you something,” I said, never looking up from my task.

“What?” She asked.

“About your birthday party.”

“What?”

“We might not get to have it when we thought.”

“Why?”

“Because the hurricane might come.”

“The Big Storm?” She knew about hurricanes because we had touched on the subject the day before.

“Yes,” I told her. “And if it comes, we will have to leave. And everybody will have to leave. So, we’ll just have to have your party another day.”

“We will just have it another day?”

“Yes. We will. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Yes. We will just have it another day,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Yes. Another day would have to work.

This night, during storytime, in the middle of our third and final book, Em stopped me.

“Is the hurricane going to come and get me through that window tonight?”

“Oh no, it definitely won’t. The hurricane is much too far away.”

“But it seems scary.”

“Yes. Hurricanes are scary. But one isn’t coming tonight.”

“They can sometimes knock down houses and the wind blows really fast and windows can break.” She told me.

“Yes, and that is why if one comes here, we will leave.”

“Will it knock down our house?”

“No. We are far enough away from the water. Our house should be okay.”

“I’m still scared.”

“Okay. I totally understand that. But I promise the hurricane is not coming tonight. It is really far away out in the ocean. And it moves really slow. If it comes here, it will take days. When we figure out where it is headed, I will know in plenty of time to get us out of here.”

I could tell she didn’t believe me.

“Why is it in the ocean?” She asked.

“Because that’s where those big storms form. That’s just where they start. In the water.”

“Will it come to the beach?”

“It might, but we are far away from the beach. And the hurricane is far away from us. I know this because I’ve seen pictures. And you know what the coolest thing is?”

“What?”

“They take these picture of hurricanes from space. Way up there past the sky, ” I said, pointing my hands upward. “They have these things called satellites. They go around the earth and take pictures of things below.”

She gasped delightedly. “Can I do that?”

“Be a satellite?”

“Yes!”

“Well, probably not. Satellites don’t have people in them. Satellites are kind of like machines, or robots. But you can be an astronaut and go up in space. Or you can be a meteorologist and study the weather. Is that something you’d like to do?”

“Yes!”

“Well, that is something you can do. You can go to college and study to be a meteorologist. Would you like that?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, good. College will be great for you. You can go to college and be whatever you want. In 15 years, when you’re big. And in the meantime, we’ll do everything we can to get you there.”

“Good! Can you come with me?”

“Away to college?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Well, that is something you will do on your own. When you go away to college, you go on your own. Or you can stay home with me and go to college somewhere around here.”

“Okay. Maybe I can do that.”

“Okay. Going away to college might be fun, though. When you get bigger, you can decide.”

“But if I go, who will drive? I can’t drive myself!”

“But in fifteen years, you will be old enough to drive yourself.”

“Woooooow.”

At this point, I had abandoned the idea of finishing the book.

“Would you like to see how far away the hurricane is?”

She nodded excitedly, so I led her into the living room and found The Weather Channel on television.

“Okay,” I said. “See that big thing? That’s the hurricane. See how far away it is? It isn’t coming here any time soon. It’s by Florida.”

Then I had another idea.

“Wait a second,” I told her. I jumped up and got her placemat with the map of the United States.

I pointed to Florida. “This is where it is now. And where are we?”

“In Texas.”

“Right. And this is Texas. Way far over here. If the hurricane comes, I will put you in the car and drive us over here, away from where it will be.”

She seemed intrigued.

“You know, a hurricane came before when you were a baby. We thought it was coming to our house, so we got in the car and took you away from it. That is what we do when they come. I won’t let anything get you. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. ”Where’s Chicago?”

“It’s there,” I said pointing. “Up there by the lake.”

“That’s where I was born.”

“I know. You’re my Chicago baby. I love Chicago and I love you.”

“I’m your Chicago baby born.”

“Yes.”

“What’s that yellow?”

“Maine.”

“What’s the red?”

“New Hampshire.”

“What’s the purple?”

“Vermont.”

“What’s that orange?”

“That’s Mexico. It’s a whole different country.”

“Are all of these different countries?”

“No, these are states in one country, the United States. The only different countries are Mexico and Canada.”

“Oh.”

“Ready to go to bed now?”

“Yes.”

So we went back to her bedroom and she climbed up in bed.

“Now don’t worry about any storms,” I told her. “You will be safe. I would never let anything happen that would keep you from being super safe. Doesn’t Mommie take good care of you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. Oh, and just because it rains doesn’t meant there’s a hurricane. Sometimes it just rains. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And rain won’t hurt us. You know that. It’s rained before.”

“Yes.” She only had one last question. “Mom, why do some people stay?”

“Who stays?” I asked.

“Those people on the news.”

“A lot of people wonder that,” I said.

She nodded, seemingly content with my answer.

Then we said our prayers and she went happily to sleep. When she woke the next morning, she was not afraid.