February 18, 2014

I returned early to Mom's yesterday (I always struggle briefly when choosing whether to say "to Mom's" or "home." It is our home right now, but it seems sometimes that if I call it home, it somehow translates to defeat, as if I've given up the desire for our own home.  Silly, I'm certain. I have never given up - on anything - in my life. I am not a quitter. So, I guess I'll continue to struggle with the right words to use and leave it at that.) Harry is out of school for two weeks while Miss Margie and her husband vacation. I told him, one day, when driving to school, that Miss Margie was closing the school for two weeks and we wouldn't be going to her house again until she returned from vacation. He burst into tears! And I spent the rest of the drive, albeit a short one, consoling him.  "She's coming back, Sweetie, it's only for a short time.  Two weeks will go by really fast and you'll be back with Miss Margie." 

I am grateful that he enjoys his time with her and that she creatively stimulates him with lots of activities.  She is solely responsible for his obsession with the Nutcracker Ballet and for his coming home for weeks - even well after all the holidays - wanting to dance it for Grandma, Auntie Laura, Uncle Bruce and whoever else would sit while he spun, pirouetted, bounced, swayed and twirled around the living room wearing a construction paper crown. The first week of the Olympics, Miss Margie and his schoolmates made snowboards out of cardboard and pushed them on foot around the island in the kitchen to compete for medals. Harry came home with the snowboard and a gold medal. So wonderfully creative and a fun way to teach! He's very happy there and most days greets me at the door for the afternoon pickup with a big smile, talking excitedly - hardly pausing to breathe - about what they did that day.

Harry's snowboard and Gold Medal.

I'd forgotten Harry's pull-ups (as we are still struggling in the midst of potty training and have been for almost 2 years now) and when the pull-up was full, we were forced to cut our morning at the Public Library short and head back to Grandma's. (Harry's been in so many transitions, amidst so many stressors, involved in so much change, since my job was eliminated, it's resulted in an extra long period of potty training - a period for which I feel a little bit of a failure. Everyone is reassuring. "He's a boy. Boy's take longer." "He'll do it overnight, when he's ready." "He's just a little stubborn, you've got to keep trying." All reasonable advice, but frustrating none-the-less.)

While Harry played on the floor in the living room, I went outside to shovel and to check on the birds...again.  Before we'd left for the library, I'd filled the bird and squirrel feeders, and it was snowing quite heavily. In the course of a couple of hours - with quick breaks every 10 minutes or so, to peak my head in the door to check on Harry - I shoveled the sidewalks and paths and the driveway - all twice. I took the garbage to the compost pile and the food scraps to the deer. And I fed the birds and squirrels for a second time that day as well. The double-width driveway took the longest, shoveling from the garage to the road, but it was good exercise and kept my mind busy on task. Distractions like that are a welcome change.

Harry shoveled Grandma's front steps on Sunday.

I think the weatherman's predictions of 3-5 inches for our area fell well short of actual accumulation. Having shoveled it myself, multiple times, I'm certain that it was more in the 6-8 inch range. Today it's going to top out around 36 degrees before sunset, and be warmer yet tomorrow. But by Sunday, we'll be back in the teens, with a low of zero. Mother Nature is trying to figure out what to do next, it seems.

Trekking back from the compost pile.

I did go online yesterday briefly to check on my unemployment status. It was really unclear what that status actually was.  It was my understanding in the beginning that I would be eligible for benefit payments until the anniversary of my "job elimination," in July of this year.  I was wrong and that was confirmed in a conversation early this morning with a Massachusetts government employee.  I dialed the help number as soon as the clock struck 7:30 a.m. ET and went through all the prompts, then was directed to leave my name and call back number and was told that my call "would be returned in the order that it was received in 45 minutes or more."

And it was.

I got crystal clarity with someone named Tony. I identified myself, gave my social security number and we waited briefly while the system "located" me. And with the least amount of compassion possible, he said, "Your benefits are exhausted." "That's it, end of the line!" 

I kept asking questions one after another, trying to take in what he had just told me. "What do you mean? What am I supposed to do now? There is nothing more you can do?" Then I just needed to talk a little and he let me.  "I've been working in not just a job, but a career for 30 years, my employers have paid into the system all those years. I have never gotten anything else from the government and that's all the help I get? 7 months? And then again, "What am I supposed to do now, I have a 4-year-old son?" And he said, "4, 6 or 13-year-old, that's it." And he followed that by saying, "That's all there is. Find a job. Put all your irons in the fire." 

I wished, at that moment, only to see his face. To see what kind of person could be so incredibly cold. "You must really enjoy your job, telling people things like that?" I admonished him. His reply? "That's just the way it is. What am I supposed to do?" 

And the truth is, there is nothing he can do. He is just delivering the message. I don't blame him for the position I'm in right now, but a tiny bit of human compassion goes a long way. And if he's the guy who communicates a message like he just did to me, to hundreds of normally hard working Americans every day, perhaps he could work on his delivery?

He did then explain that if the Federal Government votes - at some time in the future - for an extension of unemployment benefits, that I would be eligible to file another claim. If that ever happens. And from what I see, that has fallen way off the radar in D.C. 

Another challenge. No income...whatsoever. 

Mom gave me a hearty hug, a kiss on the cheek and said, "It's always darkest before the dawn." 

Or just gray.

Frozen web in the garage.