Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Whiny Wednesday

I have a half-whine today. I want to whine about this, but I know I shouldn’t, and I feel guilty and awful about even considering a whine, so I’ll sneak out my whine quickly and then cover it over with counter-whines as quickly as I can.

Every year my mum comes to visit for 5-6 weeks. She goes home in one week’s time…and I’m ready to get my life back.

Please understand, I love my mum. She is an almost perfect houseguest, she’s easy going, keeps her opinions largely to herself, and is a breeze to get along with. She’s active, we share common interests, and we even like the much of the same food.

She’ll be 80 this year and, even though she’s in excellent health, she lost her twin sister recently, and it made me painfully aware of how valuable our time is together. I’m lucky that she’s in good enough shape to be able to fly 6000 miles alone to visit, and I appreciate that my work affords me time to spend with her. I’m lucky. I know I’m lucky, so I’m just squeaking out a tiny whine.

But I’m ready to have my life back. I’m ready to spend time alone with my husband again, to lounge in bed on a Sunday morning, and to go for long walks and talk. I’m ready to throw myself back into work and hunch over my computer for the coming months. I have big plans for this year, and I’m ready to get them started.

And I think my mum’s ready to go home too, back to her garden, her friends, and her busy social life. Her gentleman friend’s phone calls are coming more frequently, and although he would never admit it, he’s probably missing her too.

So, it’s been a great visit, but it’s time for us all to get back to normal.

It’s Whiny Wednesday. Even though mine was just a half-whine today, feel free to let your full whines out, as needed.

Travel: Back in the Big Easy

Continuing the new tradition of posting about something fun on Saturdays, I thought I’d share with you my recent trip to New Orleans.

I love New Orleans. I love the food, the architecture, the history, and even the climate. I love the easy pace of life that’s forced upon you there by the heavy atmosphere, and the mood of the residents, who never seem to be in much a rush to go anywhere. I walk differently in New Orleans, slower and with a relaxed saunter. I even find myself adopting that soft, warm, Louisiana drawl that seems to have no use for half the letters of the alphabet. There’s a good reason the city is known as the Big Easy, and I love it.

I hadn’t been to New Orleans since before Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005 or last year’s Deepwater Horizon oil spill, and I wanted to go back to see how much of the city I loved had physically and psychologically survived.

I’ll admit I was nervous to go, afraid that the city had gone, and also wasn’t sure at what point it was appropriate to be a tourist in a place that had seen such devastation. This year I decided it was time.

I’m happy to report that the Big Easy was just as I’d remembered it and the message from its people is, “We’re still here. Y’all come on back.”

While we were there, we took a Katrina Tour, again not sure where the lines between genuine historical interest and opportunistic tourism blurred together, but I’m very glad we did. We traveled through the Lower Ninth ward, one of the areas most heavily hit by the flooding. It was truly shocking to see how many houses were boarded up, their doors still showing the painted marks left by the National Guard search and rescue teams as they logged their findings. It was also shocking to see just how many house were gone. I mean, just gone. Nothing left but the outline of the foundations and, in some cases, a set of concrete front steps.

Our guide pointed out a street sign, about 14 feet above the ground, that still showed a brown horizontal mark where the muddy water had reached. I think that was the most shocking thing of all for me, to see that and realize that everything around me, including myself would have been completely submerged.

But amid all this devastation were many signs of hope. Many homes had been repaired and repainted, and local businesses have opened their doors again. We traveled through a neighborhood that has been completely rebuilt through a foundation started by Brad Pitt. All the homes were designed by renowned architects and built to prepare for the chance of flooding again. That area of the city stands about ten feet below sea level, so at some point, it will flood again, although hopefully never with such devastating consequences.

The most optimistic sign of recovery I saw was a vegetable garden, neatly planted in someone’s front yard. For me, that garden was a statement of determination and permanence.

So, if New Orleans is on your list of places to visit, but you’ve been hesitating, go back. The city needs tourism and, just as it’s always done, it’s ready to make you feel welcome. Oh, and if you go, have a soft-shell crab Po’ Boy and a Mint Julep for me, would you?