Ebby

"Rain, Rain, Rain Came Down, Down, Down..." -Sherman Bros

I used to love it when it rained...

Now I just look out the window and scowl. Rain means the puppy (did I mention we adopted a puppy and a kitten just two weeks after we moved to the United Sates?) will want to go outside twice as much as normal. It means most of my day will be spent dropping whatever I've started so that she can be wiped off with a towel (did I mention that there's a lot of towel washing going on here?).

I have taught her to wipe her feet, which begins with her digging at the towel and then rolling comically all over it. It's funny enough to watch and it earns her a treat.

OH MY STARS, a lightbulb moment- I think I just figured out 

why she goes out twice as much!

We have one very smart, cheeky little lab.

Meet Ebby, aka: Ebinator, Bebby, Dorkindogger. 

Yeah, not her most flattering photo.

To Hoard Or Not To Hoard

The last couple of weeks have been a great opportunity to teach my children how to serve. 
One family, who lost nearly everything to the recent South Carolina floods have become special people to my children. The husband, who is in the advanced stages of ALS, had to be be BOATED out of his house to the safety of the hospital. His wife and daughter were left to grab what they could save- which wasn't much.
Our church leaders asked us to come help with the clearing out of their home and the experience was heartbreaking. 

Watching years of a family's life together pile up soggy and soiled on the side of the street had the toughest of us weeping. Husband and I salvaged the things that we knew could be saved (what would have meant something had it been ours). 
I spent over an hour trying to separate pages of her journal- can you even imagine the loss? My focus was on the pages and I never looked at any of the writing, but I can only assume that their journey (when they discovered his illness) was probably recorded in that book. 
Husband saved his vinyl collection. Music is his life, we couldn't bear to let those go to the street.

This family will start over. It will be hard and some precious things can't be replaced, but they have accepted it all with grace.

Three weeks after the flood, we were surprised with another call. There was a single, disabled sister whose belongings were still outside and there was another storm coming. 

"Can you help move it all back in?" 

I approached the kids with the request. The 12 year-old put down his Kindle and started putting on his shoes. 
The 15 year-old asked, "Who? Why?" and when it was explained to him, shut off his computer and started getting ready. 
The 9 year-old was gathering her jacket and the 16 year-old asked, "WHY does everybody always call us?". 
Legitimate question coming from a boy who leaves for school at 6am and comes home at 5pm, participates in school government and sports and has one day a week that's his--and that's the day we keep pulling him out of the house. 
Question asked, he didn't even wait for an answer to get up and go to the car. 
This was on Halloween. Trick-or-Treating (for their first time in America) would commence in a few hours. I love my children.

My heart sank when we pulled up into the neighborhood. Silly me assumed that her stuff was in boxes, but it wasn't. And a lot of it was wet and moldy. 

We were given directions as to which room to take everything and told to wear masks and gloves before entering the other room that would house the remaining stuff. 
It's still hot here in South Carolina, so the floor was dark, wet and areas of that house had been stewing in the heat for the past three weeks. 

This is where I need to question myself: How much is too much to subject one's children to?  

#parentingFAIL:

MOST of the stuff we carried should have been thrown away weeks ago. A lot of it was not salvageable. 
I've watched enough hoarding shows in my life (and fight my own hoarding tendencies) to know that it's not easy to part with things, damaged or not, but I had to stand my ground over a 
particle board desk that had furry, green mold growing up the sides. 
"I understand you want to keep the desk, but this is NOT good for your health". 
"I'll clean it later" she said. 
But she wanted MY teenagers to carry it. 

We carried boxes littered with mouse droppings. The actual Hoarders crew would have refused and gone home for the day, but because we were "serving", we did it.

This experience will have me questioning that next call that comes in. 
Serving that first family was easy. We worked for 4-5 hours in the heat, only leaving to celebrate at Miss Ky's birthday dinner, sunburned and tired. No regrets. 
The second opportunity to serve made me realize that I don't always put my kids first like I profess. If I did, I would've had them sit in the car while we moved the flood-contaminated debris back into an unsafe house.

What are you holding onto? Any keepsake that doesn't actually bring you joy when you hold it? Get rid of it. You won't even miss it.
I could get profound and ask if there are any 'moldy' memories that do nothing but make you sick with guilt or regret, but that's deep. Maybe another day...

Wha? November Already?

Remember when approaching Halloween time meant fun, fun, fun- carnivals, candy and great costumes?

When did it become dread, dread, dread- is this month over yet?

I seemed to be greeting the end of each day with, "Whew, that one is over" even before Miss Ky was born in October, so I can't blame the added birthday party for the change.

There's never been a time when we weren't struggling financially, so I can't blame the added KAWHOOMP the recent international move did to our finances.

But really, did my parents feel this way? Were the sparkling, magical Trick-or-Treating memories I held from childhood, shielding me from their worry of where the third child's costume would come from? Did they dread the ringing of the phone, knowing that answering it would be another addition to another heaving calendar month?

I kind of doubt it. Parenting in the 60s and 70s seemed to be so much more laid back.

What is the secret for living in the moment now,  in our super-packed 2000s? For enjoying where you are, when you are? 

As the rest of the world focuses on what they're most thankful for this month, I'm going to hold myself for taking a moment each day to stop, take a deep breath and be in the moment. 

Hold me accountable, okay?

It's Not Always a Kind World

Welcome back!

It's been a long time and I have to admit, I have missed our little blogging community....

hello?

Is anyone even out here anymore?


Instead of deleting her completely, In the Gutter went private, invitation only (and no invitations were sent, so don't feel slighted) and I did some editing to remove personal information that could be used to track us in real life.

Unfortunately, there were traces of me (and the family) smeared EVERYWHERE.

I finally realized that I really can only do so much altering without damaging the framework of this blog that I have lovingly cradled for 8 years and have to just hope that I have done enough.
Because I was not able to purge all things damning, friends and family, the world isn't the place we knew in our own childhood and our life choices could now actually be used against our innocent children; so please, when commenting, real names and identities should never be used-- that includes yours as well. Any link to us could put you in the same harm's way that we are trying to avoid.



I've been gone for a while, have I missed anything? New not-to-miss blogs? Exciting news? Boring news?

No News Is Not Necessarily Always Good News

Wow, things one takes for granted.... Like signing on to your own blog and being able to read the language it comes up in... OR,  worse, finding out you can't even get in to it.
The joys of living overseas I guess.

So, we are now in July. We've officially been here a year and are on the downslide of the last  accompanied tours at this location. Quite frankly, it sucks.

My kids say goodbye to someone every week. It's gotten to the point of two of them refuse to go out of the house anymore- there's no one to go out to.
Some families that were slated to finish this next school year with us, have now taken a curtailment and are out of here next month.

Squadron functions? The fun dinners and BBQs held out in the community, have become a chore. I am one of the last spouses here. I can sit with a plastered smile while my husband makes his rounds through coworkers, but lately I've chosen to not go.

It's been said that the best way one can get through a difficult assignment is to make that one or two great friends... I'm sadly to the point that I don't want to bother. They'll all be gone within a month or two anyway.

So yes, I'm a sad sack- not that I would publicly admit that because then I get hit with the "How can you be sad? You live in Paradise!" or "You have a fantastic life, how can you complain?"

Nothing is great if you have no one to share it with and please don't confuse beautiful scenery with complete joy. It's hugely frustrating to  have to wait so long for mail- especially when the ships and planes that bring in supplies for our base can be delayed for weeks past the time that the shelves have gone empty.

This is the slow lifestyle I have longed for for years. Plenty of time to do all of the crafts, arts, activities, etc... that have nagged at me during my busy years, but because I'm so blue (and lonely for my friends), I can't seem to get focused. I hit the bed feeling glum that another day was wasted. The days are passing me by....