July 22, 2010

A pause

I know that I been waxing poetic a lot these days about knitting. And I promise that I’ll quit it soon, really I will. I have to get going on re-doing the Teacher’s Lounge at my son’s school and I’ll show you guys the before and afters and I still have that deck to do (and the house paint to sort out) so I will move on to other subjects, but you’ll have to indulge me a little here today, I’ve had a rough couple of days, the whole family has, and knitting, well, it’s helped in an odd kind of way to keep me sane and steady.

Friday we got a call that Will’s dad was critically ill. As in, throw stuff in a bag and get down here on the next flight ill. So we threw things into a bag, dropped the dog (more like tossed her in the door) at our friends house (who are the best people in the world by the way) and drove like crazy people to the Richmond airport, only to find that our flight was delayed, and then delayed again, and then delayed to the point that there was no way to make our connection, and no other flight until the morning. So we drove home, tired and stressed, and got up again at 3 the next morning to head back to the airport. This time the flight was on time and we boarded the itty bitty plane and took off. Kids started snoozing, we started snoozing, things were starting to feel a little more steady, and then the flight attendant came flying down the asile with a garbage bag tossing everything in and telling people we were going to have to make an emergency landing. And then the pilot came on and said our main engine had failed and he was going to land us at the closest airport to us then pointed the plane down and, I kid you not, flew like hell to Norfolk. I’m not going to lie, I started sobbing. I hate flying. I have since Briton was born. And not because flying with kids is rough. My kids are actually fantastic travelers, especially Briton. The one an only time he has cried on an airplane was when he was 3 and we were boarding onto a Chicago to Dublin flight way late in the evening. I gave him a sucker and he was out before the plane reached cruising level. Even Evie, who hasn’t traveled much compared to her jet setting brother, has turned into a great flyer. So it’s not that. It’s just the fact of kids, the fact that I fear what could be, what could go wrong. Like an emergency landing.

As we got closer, we could see fire trucks on the ground which really freaked me out. Luckily the pilot got us safely on the ground and we were shakily allowed down the steps out onto the tarmac. The airline people got us on the next flight out so we could make a slightly later connection which we did. But I’ll tell you the truth, the only thing that kept me from wigging out on the next flight was that I knit. I sat in my seat and counted stitches. Knit, knit, knit – ignore that bump, you couldn’t possibly have two airplane emergencies in one day. Purl, purl, purl, breath deep, don’t throw up. On and on, till we finally landed on the ground in Dallas to find that Will’s dad was still critical, but not as, which after the whole – put your forehead on your hands and brace for impact- thing, was exactly what we needed. And every day he gets stronger, and life becomes a little more normal.

So please pardon a little pause here. I'll get myself back up and running and tell you all the strange goings on that happen when children are oblivious to drama and just keep dancing in their fairy wings and changing the words to Ba Ba Black Sheep (did you know it was really "one for my master and one for my father and one for my little, baby otter"? You didn't? That's ok, neither did I)

Hug your family