Visiting the FireHouse

trying to reach the leaves

Mom! It's time to go in!

Daddy cooking dinner for the FireHouse. And us.

watching Daddy go on a run

"Unable to respond"

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As Hurricane Sandy hit New York City, I found myself listening to the FDNY scanners.

It was heartbreaking.

Yes, because of the number of calls, the number of rescues needed.

Inifintely moreso because of the number of times the FD had to tell the dispatcher "unable to respond".

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In the relatively short (less than 30 min) I listened to the scanner, I heard it no less than 10 times. Sometimes with explanation. But mostly, no explanation needed.

Almost always, it was the high water. One battalian chief gave the best, albeit necessarily brief, explanation:

Unable to respond. 5 - 6 feet of water on all routes to that location. All boats already deployed. Engines unable to pass thru high water. Unable to respond.

Unable to respond.

I eventually had to stop listening, because my chest was hurting. After all, this is heartbreaking.

Someone needs help. And rescuers are literally "unable to respond."

Not that they don't want to. Not that they don't even have manpower. But the forces of nature kept them from physically being able to respond to calls for help.

Heartbreaking.

For the rescue workers, called to serve, called to help, every fiber of their being drawing to respond to calls.

For those needing assistance, who called for help, confident that the strength of the FDNY would be able to save them, only to be left without.

For the dispatchers, who had the unseemly job of relaying the message from FD to victim.

Heartbreaking. For everyone.

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Prayers to all involved. To everyone directly affected by the storm, to all first responders & rescue personnel, to all utility workers, to all volunteers - I pray for your safety, and your quick return home.

Thanks for checking in.

Christmas Parade

 

Trip to the Firehouse

We don't get to visit FireMan at his firehouse too often. Why? Because FireMan works an hour away from home. Not a horrible commute, since he only has to drive it once every third day. But it does mean that FireGirl & I just don't make it down there that often. But we try.

I'm not sure FireGirl thinks there's anything better than "driving" the fire truck. She knows exactly which doors to go thru to get into the bay, from anywhere in the fire house, and she knows exactly which truck is Daddy's.

She's ever-curious about what Daddy does, and she is always looking for more to learn. On this day, she learned how to put on the headset & use the radio, all by herself. Sort of. I mean, we can't actually let her use them, you know. Ha!

This day I surprised FireMan. He had no idea we were coming. We managed to sneak in at the tail end of lunch, and catch him in the kitchen. Good thing. The last two times I tried to surprise him they were out on runs when we got there. But that's the way it goes in the fire family, I suppose.

And then, because we were lucky enough for FireMan's engine to not get one run (not even one!) while we were there (although another truck did have to go out, not his, yay!), he decided to show FireGirl how to work a hose. I love those pics. I think they both enjoyed that thoroughly.

She ended up soaked, but who cares. That's why we keep a spare outfit in the diaper bag, right?

We even got to eat dinner with the guys that night, before heading back home. All in all, a great visit.

Thanks for checking in!

I'd Forgotten What I Knew

For the past few weeks I've managed to keep FireGirl & I on an actual, real schedule. Mostly. I've been more productive at work than I have been, literally, in years. I've felt better about my work self than I have in years {{ working moms insert golf clap }}
The fact is, when I put myself, really put myself into my work, I rock. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but yeah, I rock at my job.

But at the same time that I was having success at work, remembering how awesome I am at my job after all, how much I really do rock and all, FireGirl was hitting the Terrible Twos full force.

Cue working-mom-woes. Success in one area, and bam! it falls apart in another.

Anyway... FireGirl had become as defiant as all get-out. We'd been fighting several times daily, and let's face it, there is no reasoning with a toddler.

She started hitting me. And I mean hitting. No, really. Little devil.

We tried time outs. Talking to her. Reasoning with her. Taking away toys, books, etc. And it just got worse.

And worse.

And then she hit FireMan.

And then she hit Grandma.

We were at our wits' end.

The irony, of course, was that we are not against spanking as a form of discipline, and this was the first time our little angel was doing anything severe enough to warrant spanking as a disciplinary measure, but... we both agreed that spanking as a punishment for hitting just didn't make sense. Especially when the child is two-years-old and certainly would not understand the difference.

So... what to do?!?

Her behavior had gotten so out of control, so unlike herself, that my parents actually suggested that we consult a child psychologist. And remember, they have been around FireGirl more than anyone, so if anyone knows her besides us, they do.

That's how bad it had gotten.

We left FireGirl with them on a Friday so that FireMan & I could spend the weekend in Indianapolis at FDIC. This gave us a lot of time to talk about the situation, and me a lot of time to think about the situation.

And so I did some thinking. And then some more thinking.

In between the fire trucks and flashing lights and vendor booths, I thought about it.

On the drive home it hit me.

Something had to change.

Period.

And I'm the mommy, so I have to figure it out and be the catalyst for change.

Because something had to change.

And somewhere on that drive, I realized.

The schedule.

See... Our family doesn't normally operate on a schedule. Not really. We have certain routines that we do, but no real schedules.

Oh, sure, we have to go to work & church & preschool at certain times, but other than that... no set times for activities. Not really. Not at all.

Not even FireGirl.

When FireGirl was born... heck, when I was pregnant with FireGirl... people told us how our lives would operate on a different schedule, insisting that this tiny little being would have our lives timed down to the minute.

Yeah, things didn't exactly work out that way.

We've never had FireGirl on a schedule. Not even when she was a newborn. A routine, yes. A schedule, no.

It just doesn't work with our family. Especially with FireMan's alternating shifts and how that impacts the rest of our life. A daily schedule just isn't in the works for us.

Until recently.

Things have been really stressful at work, and I've ended up working real overtime for the first time since FireGirl was born. FireMan's business is taking off, and he's been putting in more hours there, plus they're starting to train new divers for Water Rescue, so he's busy with that as well. With all the added activity, it's been all but necessary for us to have a schedule so I can try to manage it all, so we can get it all done.

The schedule.

The schedule had to go.

Because the truth was, the only part of life truly benefiting from it was my work. I was more productive at work. My work self was doing well. But my home life was falling apart.

FireGirl & I were fighting constantly. She had managed to drag our fights out so long that the schedule that had begun with me getting more done at home now left me getting less done at home. The house was a disaster, we were both stressed out, her to the point of lashing out with hitting, and yes, the stress at home was beginning to affect my work. How ironic.

And so... this week... I threw out the schedule.

This week, I stopped and chatted with the babysitter for half an hour while FireGirl blew bubbles before leaving. Why not?
In that conversation, by the way, I found out that one of the other children hits their mother, and has done so in front of FireGirl. Interesting...

We've taken the long way home, past the horse farms, and alpacas, and chickens. Found a new horse farm to drive by and dream by. And when no one else is coming, I stop and we roll down our windows so FireGirl can talk to the horses. And watch. Oh, how she watches them.

We've been stopping and playing with the dogs before we ever go inside the house. Okay, she plays with the dogs while I make multiple trips carrying whatever number of loads I have that day inside. And then once I'm done we play with the dogs for a few minutes longer. Because... why not?

We eventually get our bath done, and our PJs, and snack, and this week she's gotten to bed no later than 30 minutes past her "scheduled" bedtime.

But with virtually no struggles, unlike the past few weeks.

Oh, sure, we've still had a couple of arguements.

She is two, after all. And I'm her mother, and although I'm tons of fun, we still have rules, so I still make her mad.

But no hitting.

For the first time it at least two weeks, the first day I threw away the schedule was also the first day of no hitting.

I like our life better this way. We like our life better this way.

And I need to remember what I knew.

What I knew from the beginning. What I knew about being a mom without anyone telling me. Despite what everyone was telling me.

I know my family. I know what works.

And for us, this works.

FDIC 2011

Yep, we made it.

A brief re-cap in words, and then some pics:

Water Rescue ended up going on Friday, so Jason & I hit the road early Saturday morning and went on Saturday. We (nearly) closed out the convention, then walked over to Circle Centre Mall and people-watched until our matinee movie started. Ended the evening with dinner at Rock Bottom, and then spent the night in the Hyatt. Slept in Sunday morning, stopped for a leisurely brunch outside of Indianapolis, then headed to my parents' house to pick up Jena, who spent the weekend there.

All in all, a great weekend.

Now for some pics:

Big Shoes to Fill

On the way to work this morning, we passed a fire truck.

FireGirl: "Be like Daddy. I older, be like Daddy."

Me: "You wanna be like Daddy when you get older? That's awesome."

FireGirl: "I be firefire (firefighter) too?"

Me: "You want to be a firefighter too?"

FireGirl: "Yes"

Me: {{ tearing up }} "Well, that would be just fine. If you want to be a firefighter, you be a firefighter. Mommy & Daddy would be very proud of you, whatever you do."

FireGirl: {{ smiles, sighs, and looks out the window }}

She wants to be like her daddy. How adorable.

I hope she knows she's got some big shoes to fill.

FireGirl is afraid of...

fire.

Of all things. Terrified is more like it.

As in, for her 2nd birthday we couldn't have birthday candles on her cake.
As in, at her cousin's birthday party, when they brought the cake in, she had to be removed from the room house.

Terrified.

Did I mention the primary source of heat in our home is a wood-burning fireplace?

That took a lot of talking, coaxing, explanation. Fire is okay in it's special place. Only grown-ups can do it. As long as it stays in it's place it's safe. And so on and so forth.

We've been in our house for five months now. She still rarely goes in the fireplace room. And if she happens to be in site of the fireplace when we're opening it to start or stoke the fire? She will run away until she's out of sight.

I just recently told her that FireMan's job involves more than driving the fire truck. That when there's a fire, he goes and puts them out. She sat and thought for a really long time about that, and showed no other reaction, good or bad.

Terrified.

Last night, about 45 minutes after she went to bed, she starts calling my name. I realize she sounds like she might be crying, and she's saying something about "Turtle" (her lovey). Normally, I wouldn't go in, but I decide maybe she's dropped Turtle off the side of the bed and can't find him. She is crying, and she's visibly upset. It took a few minutes to get her to calm down enough to talk.
I kneel next to her bed and ask her to go back to sleep.
"No want sleep!" she cries
I give her Turtle (which she only gets at sleep time).
"No want Turtle!" she sobs

Now I know something's wrong. For some reason she really doesn't want to go back to sleep. So I start talking to her. I ask her if she had a bad dream. Then quickly realize she doesn't really understand the concept of dreams.
I ask her if she saw something scary.
"I... {pant} see... {pant}FIRE !"
Then she falls back into the bed, shaken.

I sink down to the floor, tears in my eyes now, now also shaken. Heartbroken, that she is so scared. And fire. Well, obviously this is her phobia. Interestingly enough, it was my phobia as a child as well. And for added bonus, being in a fire family, fire brings added fears.

Knowing that I'm the mom, I recover quickly and assure her that there's no fire, I promise. I really, really promise and I would never, ever tell stories or lie about whether or not there's a fire. I tell her that in fact, I think the fire that Daddy started in the fireplace has gone out (this may or may not be true) and I promise her that we won't restart it tonight at all (this is true - ain't happening - not now). She is listening intently, wide-eyed, taking in every reassuring word her mommy is telling her. I ask her if she wants to sit up so she can see for herself that there is no fire.

"Uh huh"

I help her sit up. She looks around the room. She looks out her window.
"NO FIRE!" she declares triumphantly, and giggles as she drops back into her bed.
She rolls on her side. I kiss her cheek and leave the room.

There are no more interruptions thru the night.

FireGirl is terrified of fire.
FireGirl's daddy is a firefighter.
One day, she's gonna figure out what that really means.

Cute Kid Pics

"driving" the fire truck