Down in the Valley

Life can have a way of walloping you with lots of hard stuff all at one time. The Gardner household has had a black cloud over it for the last few days, and so I am down in the valley, so to speak. Down so low that it can only go up from here.

The first thing to happen was that our car, my lovable station wagon, decided to stop working as I was getting in it to go to lunch with Mommy friends. The problem is probably an ignition lock problem (not sure, I am not fluent in car, and my car to wife translator is in bed sleeping). The problem has been intermittent, and to make matters worse, we have tried to fix it before. However, our mechanic "forgot" to take a look at that problem (which is why he is no longer our mechanic), and so we are at our current impasse. So I missed my lunch with my wonderful Mommy friends, who help keep me sane in an otherwise crazy world. Luckily my sweet husband rushed home for two reasons: (1) to verify I was not crazy and that the car would not start; and (2) to let me use his car. Luckily we have a second car and live close to campus so taking my sweetie to work is no hardship.

The second thing is the general, all to common to most women, malaise of the bad body day. I look back to myself in my mid-twenties, when I was my smallest and most fit. At the time I was filled with self-loathing, magnifying the flaws and focusing on the worst attributes. Today I would run down people to be in that shape again. Nothing seems to get me past the size I am stuck at. I feel surrounded by hundreds of thin, fit mommies and feel like a whale in the midst of a guppy parade. It's time to either woman up and push through, losing the damn weight, or to accept myself as I am, flaws and all. But no more of this self-hatred; it is wicked, vicious stuff.

The last thing is the worst. Our sweet dog, the newest addition to our family, my lovable, not so bright Otis, is going back to the pound tomorrow. A culmination of events has led to this painful decision. He has escaped from our fenced backyard multiple times, both going over and under the fence. Tonight he went under the fence, while chained (dragging the chain with him) and managed to get stuck in our neighbor's yard. I'm sure we are very popular with her right now. When he is chained when I leave, he manages to get his chain tangled around something, anything, no matter what. I come home to find a whimpering mass of dog in my backyard in the midst of absolute chaos. He nipped at Hardy today, in the guise of playing. Hardy had not antagonized the dog, and Otis, trying to play, nipped at him. I can no longer trust my kids to be safe if I have to go to the bathroom, or answer the phone. Hardy, although he tries to hide it, is scared of Otis, and won't play outside unless someone is there to hold his hand if Otis is out there as well.

So I faced up to the difficult fact tonight that Otis is not the right dog for us at this time. It was hard to realize that. I already, in the short time he has been here, have fallen in love with the mongrel. He brings back good memories of playing with my boxer, Higgins, growing up. Yet I can't keep a dog that I cannot keep safe. It is not fair to him or to us. I can only pray that Otis finds the right family to love him at the pound. Preferably one without small children.

And so, here I am, sitting in the valley, where life looks overwhelming, sad, heartbreaking, and thoroughly unfair. I want nothing more than to run away, to find some isolated nook in the mountains and hide myself forever. I know that the mountaintop experiences are that much greater because of these valleys. Yet that is cold comfort tonight as I contemplate life. In my perfect world, the valleys would be less cold and lonely, more moderate.

I am able to keep some perspective in the midst of my gloom. I know that I am incredibly blessed - I have a wonderful husband, great kids, family I still like (and those I don't, but I manage to ignore them successfully), friends, intellectual stimulation. I have a roof over my head. I am not going to bed hungry tonight. There is a wine budget (woohoo!) and a cheese budget (double woohoo!). There is a shelf full of books to read. So the valley won't last forever. And I know that the only way to survive the valley is to be gracious and hopeful. But tonight, just tonight, I am going to whine a bit, and wish for things to be a bit different.