It makes sense to share a story from the beginning – the beginning of this season of my life, that is. I don’t plan on making this blog a chronological account of the last year and a half. But it’s probably a good idea to establish a frame of reference for you.
My marriage ended suddenly. It had been ending for a while before that, but there was one defining event that marked the End – and I didn’t get any advance notice. I’m not going to share the details of what happened because a) it’s too personal to post online, and b) my kids might read this one day.
The kids were 6 and 2-almost-3. Grant, who’s older, was on vacation with his grandmother at the time. I thank God for the timing of that.
Julia and I left suddenly, literally threw a weekend’s worth of clothes in a bag and fled to the home of a friend, who generously allowed us to stay there while their family was out of town. I remember saying a prayer of thanks for their extensive collection of Disney princess movies because I was in too much shock to function.
During the weekend, I made it clear we were returning to the house late Sunday afternoon and my ex-husband was to be gone. I was prepared to feel panicky, sad, angry, scared, relieved, any emotion you can think of.
I was not prepared for what the house looked like when we returned. It was like the morning after a bad frat party.
I began the cleaning process and cried through a lot of it. My attitude lightened a little. Everything else aside, I was relieved. It was quiet and calm and I realized it was finally just the kids and me.
I’d been thinking for a long time about what it would be like to live in peace with my children with no hostility, no tumultuous marriage making it impossible to breathe in the house. I began having little fantasies of how calm and happy we would be with our neat little organized lives. Ha. ☺
Grant came home and my first night with both kids there, I was exhausted but remarkably gung-ho about how much better everything was going to be. I took Julia upstairs to give her a bath with visions of a nice, quiet evening of storytime and cuddling. Until I got her undressed. And she promptly had a very messy accident, the details of which I’ll spare you, all over the bathroom floor. Towels, please.
About halfway through cleaning the bathroom floor, I heard Grant calling for me, sounding fully panicked. I left the rest of the mess and sprinted downstairs to find he had overflowed the toilet in the powder room. There was literally a flood of water flowing out into the family room. Ummm, more towels, please.
I used every towel in the house. Grant was running around shrieking that we would surely drown. Julia, still with no clothes on and REALLY needing a bath now, had joined in the mayhem. I took some deep breaths. One thing at a time.
I still hadn’t touched the master bedroom, but realizing I now had about 50 loads of towels to wash, it was a good a time as any to get those sheets off the bed and throw them in. I looked like I was cleaning up a toxic spill the way I grabbed the corner of the sheets with pinched fingers while trying to keep my body as far away from the bed as possible.
And then I found the ants – a million tiny little ants, crawling all over the mattress. I don’t even want to think about what attracted them there but I can tell you I almost lost it right then and there.
I did get the sheets and a few towels in the wash. I think I used an entire bottle of bleach. With the kind of determination that can only be God-given, I pulled out the vacuum cleaner, stepped up onto the mattress, and went to war with those ants.
So there I was – standing on a mattress, vacuuming ants, soaking wet towels on the floor of more than one bathroom in the house, with my children running around screaming, Kill the ants! Kill the ants! And yes, Julia was still naked and filthy at this point.
In the middle of it all, I began laughing. Hysterically and uncontrollably. In reality, it was probably sobbing but it came out as the kind of maniacal laughter I’m glad no adults or mental health professionals were around to witness.
I still think about that girl sometimes, the girl I was in that moment – standing on the bed with the vacuum, laughing hysterically. I’m so proud she didn’t give up. I’ve grown a lot since then...in large part because laughing, like crying, heals.
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