Helpless

Jen here again.   When we remodeled our old house, I participated in just about every way.  Sure, Jim still did much of the work simply because he has physical strength, but I still carried tile, hauled in hardwood flooring planks, etc.  Jim would mix the thinset and put the hardibacker down, but then I'd follow right behind screwing a million screws into each sheet.  When he grouted, I would sponge right after.  I was out there helping wash buckets, get equipment, prep, clean up.  I was THERE.  I helped.  That house was a mix of both of our blood, sweat, and tears- literally all three.  We didn't have children at that point.

With this house, I'm stuck at home with the kids.  I adore my children, but it's a very frustrating and a completely helpless feeling.  I'm used to being a helpmate.  Jim and I, we're a team.  We do things together.  The projects we work on are a combination of the two of us.  My heart is poured into these projects, and through some mishap, I generally leave a piece of me in each project. (smile)

I just feel so disconnected.  Jim calls several times a day to consult with me, so I am definitely connected in that way, and we make decisions together, but I feel disconnected from the soul of this project.  I have suggested more than once that I throw Gav on my back in the Ergo, and bring over the portable DVD player for Gigi so that I can help, but that's just not practical.  By the time we load up the truck, unload it, deal with whiny kids who really don't want to be stuck on my back or in front of a TV, me and my kiddos generate a lot of lost time and lost effort.  So here I sit.  In a playroom surrounded by toys, waiting for the phone to ring, hoping it's Jim so that I can momentarily feel a part of the process, even if I can't be there and be a helpmate.