transition complete?
the newest transition of hubby's corporate retirement is in month two now and seems to be going well. seems. the scariest part of transitions is that there is nary a clear way of knowing what lives on the other end of the path you have chosen through any given transition. i've had more than one transition start beautifully and end with the revelation that the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel is actually a fast moving train. splat. thou hast been corona crowned.
on my end, the corporate retirement transition means i --in theory-- should have greater freedom from childcare to pursue my own work. since the start of this domestic shit storm season in 2019, i've done little more than provide childcare for heavily traumatized children and set up domestic structure for them within our geriatric lives. getting the corporate demands out of the equation should open new possibilities. should. it opens more room for devilments, as well. with a gentle reminder to watch the shoulding around, more time has, indeed, become more available, but i continue compulsively hovering over the domestic arena like jealous housewife. how can i be replaced by a mere corporate robocop, even for a few hours? whatever his skills in the corporate arena, the domestic arena runs on very different needs and protocols only **i** could possibly know! ! !
contemplating the newest transition has me wondering if the transition into my second parenting career is complete? it has been two and a half years since the protective custody shift. a month less since the double funeral. the psychic wounds of the traumas which necessitated that second parenting career remain in need of healing but it feels like the base upon which to continue that work has stabilized to a quasi-confident business-as-usual. if one of us slips and fall on a daring adventure, all five of us, plus the farm helper (fh), know where to find the first aid kit.
this morning i leave the mood icon squarely on okay. not all the parts are okay, but we've worked with less. . .
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Big hug for you sweetie..... I hope that it will be a really good transition for all of you.... xo
i find myself wanting to risk the sin of pride over the progress we have made in stabilizing this little ship of fools. considering all the blood and guts flowing in october, 2018 when these children were first seized into protective custody, the progress has been tremendous. since protective custody was shifted to us in august, 2019, the bulk of those blood and guts have been filtered by cps and family court. the children have only been marginally aware of the custody disputes, etc. we are approaching a year since the last of those disputes. i amnae counting the sister-in-laws text threat. it has been long enough with still no contact from her lawyer. there is much reason to doubt she will be able to find a lawyer willing to dispute the current agreement on her behalf.
the third spring break since the big shift approaches. this saturday our son's in-laws are scheduled to pick up the children for their 3rd spring break visit since the funeral. is it a sign of transition complete that i am feeling confident enough to be enjoying the prospect of a week off from childcare duties? i am still braced for one of their classic, last minute plan changes, but feel like that is a common sense provision in dealing with chronically unreliable people.
a quality of transitions is that there are no clear distinctions in the process. the rites of passage ceremonies are nothing more --nor less-- than declarations within an uncertain weaving of complex threads.
finally! ! ! the tiller which was supposed to be here in november has finally arrived. the long string of delays is the new corona norm. for now, we are happy dancing to have it sitting on the farm. i picked it up at the shipping terminal in the nearby metroplex yesterday. it just barely fit in the back of the pickup and getting it off the truck is the next challenge in the process. one step at a time. . .
the kiddos leave for a week visit (spring break) with their maternal family this morning. i'm still not enjoying the sense of relief i remember so well from my first parenting career, but the relief just might be greater than the anxiety i have felt since the start of this trail of tears. i still know their lawyer love better than i know my son's in-laws, but i am feeling far more confident that children will be more or less okay during the week long visit. they are stable enough to handle the less okay parts for a week. so i pray. just praying. . .
big bro's little league practice was here at the farm this past thursday. that gave us the manpower to get the tiller from the back of the truck to the floor of the big barn where i hope to be gifted with the uninterrupted time to get it up and running this afternoon, followed by an uninterrupted week in which to learn how to use it.
the tiller has received quite a workout in its first weeks on the farm. there seems to be a unanimous agreement that we are overdue for some gardens, etc. this is a farm, after all. childcare seems to be transitioning into labor supervision as the three enterprising adults welcome the children into their own projects as appropriate. the farm assistant helps us get the children off to school every morning and deep cleans our house twice a week. the children interact with her almost as easily as hubby and i do. almost. . . hubby and i are there to assist with the awkward parts.
fast forward two months and it is the first full week of summer vacation. transition complete? ? ?
ha. . . one transition leads to another in life's endless cycles.
i count this as our second summer vacation together. the summer of 2020 doesn't count as a vacation in my estimation. here in the first week of 2022 vacation, 2020 is mostly taboo topic, both in local real-time and on the virtual www. what of the processing of the court and family dramas we have been and remain covidically isolated with? it ain't over yet. . . one guess is as good as another on where ^it^ will go from here.
the first days of the summer transition feel smooth and peaceful so far, knock wood and sacrifice a chicken to the gods of continuance. still letting god lead the dance. itsy bitsy baby steps.