I cross the days off on my calendar first thing each morning (well after the dust settles from breakfast and stuff). We are counting the weeks, days, hours until we are all together again. We are definitely missing the final piece to our puzzle, George, but so thankful he is working away down south.
The update on our family situation, in case I haven't explained, is that we *moved off the island (boo), the kids and I are in Indiana while George is in Louisiana and Nevada working and setting up shop for us. We will (hopefully) join him the minute we close on our house (yes, a real house with screens, a yard, air conditioning, dishwasher, a garage, etc.) sometime at the end of September. I never thought I would be so excited to live in Louisiana but at this point in my life geography is a minor detail and my family is everything. I am confident we can live the life we want anywhere as long as we are together.
So the kids and I have just been wasting time, maintaining, trying to keep our heads above water until the day comes when we set off on our epic road trip south, our first together. In St. Croix, heading to the other end of the island was about as road trippish it got so it should be interesting.
We are venturing out a little bit more these days, due mostly to me being a little more confident handling all of the kids and feeling sure I can keep them all safe all the time. When did I become such a paranoid safety freak? Where is my sense of adventure?
We have the grocery store down to a science. I am still afraid of parks with tall play structures because since I am always "wearing" Jude, I am not able to climb and fit in small spaces and dart from drop off to drop off and keep up with Elsa and keep her out of harms way. And library = disaster with Elsa doing laps around the place screeching with joy.
I did see a kid on leash the other day but I am still not ready to go there with Elsa and I can confidently say that I will never be. Seemed cruel. I just wanted to cut the kid free and yell, "RUN!"
So here we are, desperate for exercise and action, in the mall playground. Padded, low standing, enclosed, and air conditioned equals peace of mind for me. Never thought it would come to this. My girls, who had barely stepped foot in mega malls, are now among the masses watching the hip teenagers texting their lives away. And then I think of what I would be doing in St. Croix, and as much as I would like to dream, we definitely wouldn't be at the beach for the same reasons, safety.
Survival is the name of the game at this point. Surviving until we have the show stopping, official Dad voice back in our life so we can get out and enjoy the world again. Hard to believe this is where we were and what we were doing just three short months ago and now here we are, doing it up mega mall style. Time has passed and time will passed, this I know. Perhaps patience is the name of the game? I just have to keep reminding myself of this.
*For the record, I do realize that, "Adventures of raising a family on island time" no longer applies to us. Maybe I am in denial, maybe I am thinking of something new, or maybe I have no time to do either, but I will fix it soon. Promise.