Did anyone say something about finding a new rhythm? Settling into a new groove? Whoever said that should be smacked. This week proved that nothing could be further from the truth.
I have lost the reigns. I’m no longer in control. I cannot be trusted.
Not once by twice this week I put our family on the wrong train, setting a course for a ridiculous goose chase, unecessary running, unflattering sweating and general chaos. Not to mention the cursing and foul moods that ensued.
On Wednesday it was mostly inconsequential. Added to the adventure. Perfect time for one of my “well isn’t this an adventure!” pep talks. We giggled about it after the initial groan and “for the love of Pete” response.
We were headed to IKEA which is a pretty big deal. IKEA is in Deitlikon. IKEA is not in Deitikon. We went to Deitikon.
Both towns are just outside of Zürich. Two towns, 15 minutes apart with only 1 letter difference in their name. Is that really necessary? This is a place where words are longer than the alphabet itself and yet there isn’t a little more imagination in coming up with the name of towns?
Today’s train mishap was very consequential. It was for hockey; the exact moment I fear every time we set out to a game.
We went to the wrong arena.
Thank god they need to be at the arena 1 hour before the game. And thank goodness we were early. And thank goodness the two arenas were only 1/2 an hour apart.
We didn’t giggle right away about this one. There were no chirpy pep-talks from me.
Instead I said “WE NEED TO RUN!!!!!!” And things got a little intense. Not my proudest parenting moment. I may have said things that were uncalled for.
Like when we were in a dead run (so bloody hard hauling a hockey bag) and Helena said again “can I have another fuzzy peach?”
“HELENA! NOT NOW FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!” In my scariest mom voice ever. (On a side note her fixation on candy and the inability to recognize when is not the time to have some is a little concerning.)
We were in a town where the train leaves every 1/2 hour. We would be either super-screwed or we’d catch a break.
We caught a break. The train was leaving in 8 minutes. With a solid sprint from the arena we made it.
Ironically we needed to go back home. It was a home game. We arrived at our rink with 25 minutes to spare. He missed the team warm up but had time to dress for the game.
This “mishap” comes at a terrible time. D’s Swiss hockey career is in peril. He’s ready to throw in the towel, quit the game he loves more than anything.
Tomorrow is the start of the week-long hockey training camp. Just 2 weeks ago D came back from his school week long trip which he endured just barely.
He loves home a little too much.
This was evident years ago when we sent him to summer camp for the first time when he was 8.
He. Was. A. Disaster. Homesick to the point of total misery.
His mom was a Camp Director for Pete’s sake. Major fail.
Fast forward to Switzerland and his dislike of being away from home for a week has grown tenfold. Made so much harder by the language barrier and his social misfit status.
“I’m the weird kid no one wants to be friends with. I’m alone, all the time.”
It breaks my heart to hear that. I don’t know how much of it is reality but it doesn’t matter. To him it is 100% reality and painful. He’s in a total state about this hockey camp. Desperate to not go. Sick to his stomach. Willing to quit hockey over it.
So having his mom deliver him to the wrong arena and come racing in late to the game, one day prior to the big camp, doesn’t help his social outcast status.
We are trying so hard to convince him to go. But seeing how painful it is for him, how hard, we’re letting him decide. Knowing the consequence could be getting kicked off the team.
Welcome to growing up Buddy. It’s hard.
We took him to talk to the coach last night. Said that if he wasn’t going to go to the camp, he had to tell his coach in person. The fear of that moment was almost enough to convince him to go. But not quite.
This whole week has been heavy. Like I explained to the kids, if we were cartoons, we’d have a dark grey cloud hanging over us.
If there is anything I’ve come to know for certain about the rhythm of life it’s that the highs and lows are certain. The highs here have been so great. The lows have been brutal. But I’m convinced that this is better than a flatline life. That’s no life at all.
Some weeks feel as though the weight of the world is bearing down on us. This has been one of those weeks.
The train mishaps have merely punctuated a week that was already brutal. News that my Grandma on my dad’s side, our beloved Nana, has terminal cancer has overshadowed every waking moment of this week. A heaviness that is made so much heavier by being so dang far away. I am gutted.
Uncertainty about our tenant back home is also adding to our stress and worry. Making unnecessary train tickets a purchase that hurts more than it should.
These are the weeks when we question “did we make the right decision to stay?” At the time it sure felt like the right decision but weeks like this one it’s hard to know.
And yet each new day brings the hope of that rhythm shifting once again towards celebrations and joy.
No matter where we are in our highs and lows, we are thankful for what we have and for the gift that all of these experiences have been. No matter what, we are blessed and we are surrounded by love.