By Amy L. Hatch
I always hit the wall in February.
Photo by H. Michael Karshis, Flickr
Our first winter here, I thought the unrelenting brown of the farmland behind my house would drive me mad. Trapped inside with a 2-year-old who gave up her nap cold-turkey one wintry day, I feared for my sanity.
We stayed inside, she and I, wearing sweatpants and layered T-shirts two sizes too big. We wore socks and read books, ate lunch and tried to get enthusiastic about making dinner. We made unnecessary Target runs and spent too many calories and dollars eating take-out from the Culver’s drive-through window.
One afternoon Emmie, tired of being cooped up, ran at me in play and rammed her index finger into my eye so hard that she scratched my cornea. Long after she went to bed, I got into my car in the sub-zeros temperatures, headed for the ER. It hurt too much to let it go.
As I drove with my right eye closed, I wept. I wanted to see Lake Ontario, its ice floes graceful against the gray winter sky. I wanted to go to Wegman’s for lunch. I wanted to drop in and see my sister, and my niece and nephew.
My eye hurt, and I wanted my mom.
I dried my tears and made jokes with the cute doctor who prescribed me eye drops and let out an ugly laugh when he told me, as I left, to get some rest.
I remembered that long day and night this weekend as I drove my daughter, now 5, to urgent care. Strep is going around, and sure enough, she has it.
Outside the car window, the sun hit the treetops and just for a moment I was reminded of home. Not the home where I live, but the home from whence I came. The home that made me who I am today, the home that I so rarely get to see.
It’s February, and I’m homesick.
Amy L. Hatch is a co-founder of chambanamoms.com, and may have a touch of seasonal affective disorder. She writes “From There to Here,” a column about being a Northeastern girl on the prairie, on Tuesdays. You can reach her at amy@chambanamoms.com.
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I hit the wall in February too. The first time was 7 years ago when my youngest was 1 and we were living in a cute little neighborhood in Champaign. Now that boy #4 is 4 months old and we are living in isolation on the Prairie? It is almost crippling. I beg my husband daily to move us to a warmer clime. Yesterday I decided I would home school the children and take them to Florida in the winter. My husband was not amused. Needless to say- the children boarded the bus today, and I debating taking the baby, who is sick, to Target for some “non-essentials.” Boo February! Boo!
I feel your pain about Wegman’s.
I feel so much sympathy for you mommies of younger kids. I remember the stir-crazies that set in, particularly in winter, from being too long cooped up with very small humans. Even when we love them the combo of their incessant demands, tsetse fly-like attention spans, and limited emotional controls is enough to drive a responsible and reasonably sane person over the brink. I don’t know that you’ll ever stop having periodic homesickness (I still do, and I’ve been gone from my southern mountains for nearly 30 years now), but as the children grow, the cabin fever will become more manageable.
February can be rough — and this year we’re facing serious cabin fever. Plus, you’ve had quite a stretch… Blissdom, Dr. Phil, sick kids. That could suck the happy out of any mom.
I am sorry you are homesick. Know that you have a community of friends out there in cyberspace who love and support you.
As always, glad I had some tissues nearby…
I thought I was going to lose my mind yesterday with there being no school. And to top it all off, Daddy came home for all of two hours and then left for his Guys’ Night Out. Ugh. Glad to be at work today!