When The Bottom Falls Out

When Himself tells me he has bad news, it is usually some overly horrible pronouncement, followed by something that, in comparison, doesn't sound quite so bad. He does this to temper my worry and concern and dramatic antics.

So when he called me on Friday and immediately said, "I have some bad news," I was expecting him to give me some dramatic scene amd then say that the $400 we'd just dropped on the Hoopty had not actually fixed the problem.

Instead, a strained voice said, "I don't have a job anymore."

There was no laughing and telling me that actually the bad news wasn't really so bad after all (in a great twist of irony we found out Friday evening that the $400 we'd plunked down on the Hoopty had not actually fixed the problem ... so it turns out that my clairvoyancy was somewhat accurate).

In fact, there was a strangled cry and a silence full of anguish and hurt and disbelief. I don't remember the rest of Friday very well, except I wished yet again that humans hibernated like bears and that we could curl up together and sleep until spring, when brighter days were already here.

While we've been careful to moderate the strain and questions and worry around Baby Girl, I think she's picked up on it on some level - she fussed most of last night and today is clingy and cranky - wanting to not just be held, but cuddled and sung to. She wants to eat every 90 minutes. I'm still in my pajamas, Baby Girl's warm little head snuggled into the crook of my arm, finally starting to drift off. It's one of those days when the healing balm of church is desparately needed (and required, since we have a class of 10-year-old boys to teach), but I'm not sure how we're going to make it, with a baby who is demanding 110% of our attention.

My heart hurts for Himself, who is not himself in any sense of the word. My insides hurt wondering how to solve a problem we really shouldn't be in. And my arms have no feeling as Baby Girl's head has effectively cut off all circulation.

The Hobbit Hole feels a bit like a cave - dim and cool during the winter - my flannel sheets are snuggly and Baby Girl is warm - if ever there was a case for winter hibernation, it would be today.