Friday, March 27, 2009

Friday Update

The girls and I have been trapped inside the house for the past three straight days--long, long days--as Julia has been sick with a fever and an awful cough, and the weather's been rainy and windy and freezing and sleety, and Christopher's taken the car to work so as not to have to bike in the rain and wind and freezing sleet. I've skipped all my runs, unwilling to chill my bones any further this season, and have medicated my jangly, frustrated nerves with mint chocolate-chip and The Real Housewives of New York City on Bravo (which is a strange combination of addictive and horrifying). I'm still sitting in the nursery at bedtime (14 nights now, God help me), and though it's looking up (last night I sat outside the cracked-open door, in the hallway, and sneaked away before Genevieve was likely asleep), it's hard to put into words just how much this whole sleep-training intervention has interfered with the small pleasures of my daily life. You might not think it would bother you that much to lose an hour each evening--an hour you'd normally spend reading library books or talking to your husband or surfing the Internet or watching TV or sleeping or running or bathing--to sitting in the dark by your toddler's crib, but after 14 days, and when that hour is most of my only free time each day, it's taken its toll. However, I do think it's almost over.

But the real drama is the Red River flood, which has overtaken my hometown of Moorhead, Minnesota. (For my non-local readers: Fargo-Moorhead is structurally akin to Minneapolis-St. Paul; two cities separated by a river, but which form one seamless metropolitan area. It's just that in the case of Fargo-Moorhead, the two cities are, weirdly, in two different states. So that when I was growing up, I might go to the grocery store in MN and then drive 60 more seconds to cross the river and visit a shop in ND.) Things up there have gotten indescribably bad. Overnight the hospital where my dad works as a chaplain was forced to evacuate patients. One of my oldest friends--who drove four hours north from Minneapolis yesterday to help sandbag--helped her parents evacuate their Moorhead home last night (many homess have now gotten mandatory evacuation orders). My older sister's town--a tiny burg of 400, 30 miles north of Moorhead but still along the river--is now an island. When my father went to work yesterday, he took a suitcase in case he wasn't able to cross the bridge back home at the end of the day. The college in Moorhead has shut down and evacuated all students and staff. Things are really, really bad--worse than the tragic flood of 1997, which is just unfathomable.

Please consider praying for the community, and/or donating to the Fargo-Moorhead Red Cross.


Mnmom said...

Hope our daughter can bring some relief tomorrow! I'm just sick over the flooding - flooding just never ends, and when the water finally DOES recede the mess is daunting. My sister lost quite a bit in the great southern iowa flood of 1993. Her husband was in grad school, and their basement held all their winter clothes, most of the toys, books, etc all thrown out because of mold. She was pg at the time with baby #2, and they and boy #1 had to live with us that summer because RAW HUMAN SEWAGE was mixed in with the flood waters.

Shan said...

We can't wait for Jean tomorrow!

Shan said...

P.S. Julia was back at school this morning--she's finally on the mend and is fine today.