I knew there was a shelf life to me sharing a room with Ella, her bedroom has been my treatment room since she moved in there at 5 months old.
I have a fold up treatment bed, and this just meant I was back to putting it up and down between sessions and that there was a cot in the room, which luckily my wonderful clients were fine with.
Basically, Ella’s cot was in my treatment room, her clothes and toys distributed in the boys bedroom or Chris and mine.
Then when it was time to get her out of the cot, I borrowed the most adorable little bed…and that is the bed she is still in at 5, almost 6 years old.
Slowly I have tried to make it more hers, while still professional enough to have treatments in. This has meant the already small room getting slowly smaller and more crowded.
For the last few years I have been trying to figure out how best to move forward.
Should I rent a room…too expensive to rent when sessions are just a part of my core business.
Should I by a wooden Wendy house…wow look at the price of those.
How about converting a caravan…would have to cost less than a wooden Wendy.
So, I spoke to my good friend and to the Universe and left it at that.
My friend put out feelers and as I was travelling back from holiday on the 31st of December, I got a call about an old caravan.
Clearly, we bought it or there would be no post to write. Affordable and a decent shell, but much work needed doing.
The smell, well this is one of those times you can be glad you can’t smell it.
Zach asked me if he could smudge it. Love how for my children that is such a normal thing to ask. Yes please, smudge away.
We aired her all of Friday from when she arrived, and Saturday too.
I had organised two labourers to do the gutting on Sunday. When I arrived at 9 to fetch them, I felt the wind of excitement and anticipation leave my sails as I realised, after 30 minutes, they were not coming.
I got home feeling flat and blue but determined to do at least some of the work.
All the windows propped open, and another thorough smudging, in fact I left it to smoke in a dish while I worked. I began to pull out curtains and anything not screwed down.
Caleb came to help, “I am doing this because I want to help you, and for the money” he informed me. His effort and company were appreciated, if short lived.
But I could feel the Warrior Women in me, and my stubborn Aries moon self, setting in to get it done.
And started to hack at shelves and cupboards with a crowbar…did I mention our tool kit consists of little more than a hammer and a set of screw drivers which my brother in law had borrowed?
I had sent Caleb to my neighbour (organised people with a good tool kit and a decent knowledge of what to do with them) for a star and a flat screw driver.
We found a paint scraper in our garage too.
But it was when Caleb was ready to take a break, which turned into the end of his work day that he came into the caravan with a crow bar and said, “I thought this would help mom.”
Who needs therapy!
I was letting out anger, frustration and irritation I didn’t even know I had in the dirty, smelly brown grey caravan.
Chris kept on checking on me and in true managerial style telling me what to do and where to knock with a point and some encouraging words…no actual laboring for him, who’s motto has always work smart, not hard.
One cupboard saw an ant’s nest burst forth. And before long with all the noise and excitement my neighbour P, came out with his cup of coffee to see what was happening.
He, Chris and I shared some ideas, while they watched, and I banged.
Soon Chris went back into the house and P could not help but help. He got a drill with made getting nails out about a million times easier and figured out the parts I had no clue about (my hero) while I continued to demolish wherever I could get my crowbar.
P too was going at it hard, and said, “I just want you to know I am not an aggressive man.” Which I absolutely do know about him. I said I too am not but maybe this is just what the two of us need to release some pent-up stuff.
Soon enough P’s wife and my good friend S came over to check it out, laughing at how P was now totally into the demolition…sucker may have been the word she used.
It was now S and Chris, advising through the window while P and I sweated and spluttered our way through.
Do you know, and I know this is only step one of the transformation project, but I felt so empowered, liberated even from the whole thing.
Sure my body is screaming a little today, but it was worth it.
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