Trapped

It’s March.

And you know how March makes me feel?

TRAPPED.

Trapped by old-fart-of-a-man-winter. Turning the calendar to reveal March induces visions of tulips and jackets-without-liners. But, these dreams are quickly dashed when, like this morning, I walk out the front door and turn into a statue of ice. With the windchill, it was -35 today. MINUS THIRTY-FREAKIN-FIVE. After thawing out in my not-quite-as-cold car, I start asking myself, “Why do I live here?” “Should we move?” “Remember last year, in Florida? Well, it wasn’t like this, that’s for sure.” And these panicked inquisitions make me feel even more…

Trapped.

Trapped by house-building. Things are getting serious now. We’ve got the floor plan to the “almost done” stage. We’ve set up a meeting with the builder. Our lot is just waiting for the first back hoe. And the bank. Oh, the bank. They’re just waiting for our signatures on that trapping piece of paper. The paper that signifies we’re going to be here FOREVER. Because, surely, if we design a house from scratch, “exactly” the way we want it, we’ll have to live there until we graduate to the nursing home, right?

And we can’t move. Because how on earth will we ever find a school system as good as we’ve got up here, in this Frozen Wasteland? Yes, the stellar schools in this small town have me feeling…

Trapped.

Trapped by Ellie’s teachers and therapists and educational assistants. I read enough blogs and message boards to know that the education and help that Ellie receives here is nearly unmatched. While down in Florida, I saw the tears of frustration stream down parent’s faces when they described the impossibility of securing a one-on-one aide for their disabled child. Kids similar in ability to Ellie received one-on-THREE help. Can you imagine Ellie have to share her EA with 2 other equally-challenged kids? But, in order for Ellie to go to school here, we kinda hafta live here. Here, where your schnot freezes and the closest Target is 3 hours away.

And, where else could I find a job I love so much? Yup, I am…

Trapped. Again.

Trapped by my job. The job that brings so much joy, yet requires me to physically report in for 48 weeks of the year. Report in HERE. Not on my lanai in Honolulu. Not on my townhouse deck in Lake Mary, Florida. Not on my brick patio in Lewisville, Texas. Here. Where I can’t even see out my office window because the blasted snow drift is so high, it obstructs my view.

See.  I kid you not!  The snow drift really IS that high!

And, since March is Ellie’s birthday month, the new calendar page breeds yet another emotion. I feel…

Trapped.

Trapped by my stupid uterus. Ellie will be 6 in a couple of weeks. SIX! I feel like the window is closing. You know, the window that I swore was already long shut…and locked…with the key hidden beneath the monstrous pile of cleared snow off of Route 90. But, every once and a while (like today), the feeling resurfaces. It makes me sad. I still kinda wish that I could give Ellie a sibling. I still kinda wish I could navigate the road of “not-special-needs” parenting. But, it’s so complicated. Long gone is the possibility of saying, “Hey, let’s have a baby!”, and then a couple months later, after peeing on a stick, start the 9-month countdown. I have no control over my reproductive organs. And, lack of control ALWAYS makes me feel trapped. ALWAYS.

To top it off, you know what else makes me feel trapped today?

This blog!

I am, of course, joking (somewhat). But, in all honesty, I was NOT In a mood for writing today. And, given the subject matter in this post, I probably should have saved you all a URL trip and simply posted a pretty picture. But, now you know where my heart is at.

Thankfully, though, I do NOT feel trapped by my grouchy mood. I know this will pass. I know that it’s reedonkulous of me to coat the good things in my life with toxic, freezing waste. What makes me feel trapped today will make me feel blessed tomorrow. I know that.

And, hey, the high for tomorrow is minus ten. With every degree forward, another cell bar breaks.