lazy vs. busy

by Amy | Nov 27, 2011 | mama confessions

It’s not that I haven’t wanted to write lately, but I just haven’t had it in me.  I have been oh so sleep deprived, and frankly, depressed.  I can’t quite put my finger on it really.  I’m enjoying my life tremendously.  I love my little clan.  Things are going well.  I just can’t shake this underlying numbness that has come over me lately.  I remember my girlfriend sharing with me that she felt the same way several months into her second child’s life.  She just felt like she was constantly in motion, doing something, but never feeling a sense of completion.  I keep hitting on the ever present subject of my Dad’s current state of health.  He’s doing fine…or, let’s put it this way, as fine as a guy can do when his carotid arteries are 50-70% blocked and he’s awaiting surgery to get them unblocked.  My mind isn’t really on that, to be quite honest.  If I didn’t have kids, I’d be fretting and worrying.  But the kids are keeping me pretty occupied these days.  So occupied that I don’t even feel like I have time for anything else — the local news, world news, figuring out my Android, folding laundry, putting away laundry, maintaining my hair (which desperately needs to be cut at the moment…and colored), having a conversation with my husband, sorting out my kids’ clothes and figuring out what is too small for them to wear, making my friend who just had a baby a nice meal for her family, offering a meal or two to a former student’s mother who is undergoing chemo for breast cancer. The list goes on and on…and on.

Truth be told, I’m a doer.  I’m not a be-er.  He he…I just noticed that if I didn’t add the hyphen, I’d actually be a beer.  Would that be so bad?  I think not.

No, but seriously.  I like to do.  I like to be busy with the things of life.  It gives me pleasure to do.  Being is for lazy people, right?  I’m not lazy.  I wake up early.  Always have.  Don’t like sleeping in.  That would be lazy.  Don’t like ordering food and eating it without actually cooking it myself.  That’s lazy.  Don’t like not having things done around the house.  That’s lazy.  See where I’m going with this?  Clearly, I need help for my condition.

This past week was Thanksgiving.  The week before that was Tate’s birthday.  The week before that was a visit from my Aunt and Uncle.  All of these occasions were supposed to be lowkey.  They were supposed to be easy and fun and not too involved.  They were all overly busy and left me with the feeling I had after my wedding day:  “All this planning and it flew by and I’m exhausted!!”  I overthink.  I overdo.  I am overwhelmed.  See a theme here?  I told my girlfriend the other day that I’m either on top of the world with clarity and accomplishment or I am complete train wreck.  There’s no in between for me.  There’s no middle of the road.  Is this the Leo coming out in me or what?  Who knows, but I think that’s why I had to take some time off from blogging.  I couldn’t get it together enough to blog this past week and a half.  My head has literally been spinning about my Dad.  There’s been so much to do and think about and figure out that I didn’t have one ounce of space left in this head of mine to blog, meet with friends, call friends, make a meal, do anything that I would normally be on top of.

We have one more day left of this Thanksgiving holiday.  So far, we’ve spent the past two days away from home doing stuff.  On Thanksgiving itself, I was just going to make a low key meal and ended up in the kitchen most of the day while my husband had to occupy my sons and keep them out of my hair.  It was a great meal, but I wonder if I would do it all over again knowing what I know now.  My husband and I enjoyed the meal, but my 3-yr-old didn’t eat much on his plate and of course, my 6-month old wasn’t able to partake.  So, we had a lot of food leftover, and by the time I was able to see the outdoors and get some fresh air, the sun had gone down and the beautiful day was almost over.  Still, it was a beautiful, memorable day with my little family celebrating Thanksgiving–despite the fact that my parents couldn’t be here and we couldn’t be up there.

On Friday, we got up and decided to go out amongst the crowds and see what kind of deals were to be had on Black Friday.  We ended up going to Target and IKEA and got a few good deals, but mostly just killed time.  By the time we got home, there wasn’t much of our day left to do anything with other than prepare dinner and baths and go to bed.

Today, we got up and decided to go look at cars since we’re quickly growing out of our midsized sedan.  Then we went for lunch and went to get our pictures taken after that.  Since we were already out, we decided to take our boys to the mall to see Santa Claus.  We had a good time there and didn’t have to wait too long in the line.  Santa was nice and my 3-yr-old got the chance to tell him exactly what he wanted for Christmas.  After we got done on Santa’s lap, my son continued to yell out, “Thank you, Santa!!  Bye!!!” from every angle until we were finally out of Santa’s ear shot.  I think he was just trying to win Santa over so he could make sure Santa got him that remote control helicopter he can’t stop talking about.  By the time we got home, it was already after 6pm and time for dinner, no bath and bed.  Where did the day go?  Where did the weekend go????  We were busy…but busy doing what?

I share all that to say, I wish it would be possible to actually slow down and enjoy this space in time without filling it up with busy-ness in order to not go insane.  I think we subconsciously create busy-ness in our lives in order to avoid what might come up if we were just sitting around with our families with nothing to do other than enjoy each other’s company.  Don’t get me wrong.  I like going out of the house and doing stuff.  I like preparing elaborate meals for the sake of tradition even if we aren’t with our extended families.  I like getting out of the house and being out and about doing things…seeing people…accomplishing goals and meeting friends.  But my mind always goes back to the question:  At what cost?  Am I missing something really big here?  Am I missing out on my deep desires and brushing off the call to stay home?  I’ve admitted before that I’m perfectly content being a hermit.  In fact, I am at my most comfortable place when I’m just sitting at home without an agenda.  I know a lot of folks who would go stir crazy if they were home alone all day long — let alone all week long — with just their kids and all their kids’ toys and messes and temper tantrums and meal times and story times and playing and laundry.  But me?  I like it.  I crave it.  I would be perfectly content being home on most days.  It would be so easy for me to be a hermit — too easy as a matter of fact.  But, I go out for the sake of my sanity and my kids’ sanity.  I know that I’m a better person if I leave the house and my kids are in better moods as well.

Anyway, I usually like to tie up my posts with something meaningful and reign all my thoughts in and pull the storyline together (ha ha), but tonight, I’ll leave it at that.  I just need to take some deep breaths and pray that we have some down time before the week ahead becomes hectic and then December begins and the holiday season is even more hectic and December ends and I wonder whatever happened to December.  My innermost being is literally screaming for some solitude…some space…some time…some rest…some down time…some me time…some unhectic, agenda free time.  (hey…I’m a poet and didn’t know it).  I don’t want to live this life…this oh so short little life…feeling crazy busy and hectic for no other reason other than just not being comfortable with being.  I want to find a way to stop, say an “om” and create peace in my life without feeling lazy and unproductive.  I want to capture memories with something other than a Kodak. I want to live my life and sip in and sponge up every little second of my day without avoiding silence…or chaos…or mundane tasks…or sitting and looking at my beautiful kids.   

This weekend, I’m grateful for:

1. walks around the neighborhood with my husband and kids
2. the prospect of a roomier Auto
3. being home this past week/weekend with no family visiting and nowhere we had to go
4. the clean carpet in my living room and front room because we steam cleaned this week.  No one better come near my carpet with dirty shoes!!
5. wonderful food and laughter
6. my babies
7. my wonderful husband who puts up with me blogging right now and not talking to him about cars
8. the cute pictures we got taken today
9. remote control helicopters
10. rain

Self-Care vs. Martyrdom

by Amy | Nov 21, 2011 | mama confessions

This past week completed the 4-week long telecourse entitled, A New Way of Being.  Since I started the class, I’ve been blogging and journaling here and there about some observations I’m having as I dive deep down and try to soak up all this information and self-analyze.  I was not anticipating having some of the reactions I’ve had, and I definitely didn’t think most of the content would even be relevant to me.  Isn’t that interesting?  Truth be told, my first reaction to the title of this course was, “I don’t have the time or resources for a new way of being!  I’m stuck with the way things currently are!”  That may be true to an extent.  I don’t have a lot of time on my hands with a 6-month old baby and a 3-year old boy, but I can certainly attempt to carve out some time and space throughout my day/week/month for some rejuvenation.  I owe it to myself.  I owe it to them!

One of my biggest pet peeves are people who are martyrs or who think they are merely victims of their circumstances.  Yet, over the course of the past 3 years, as I have had the sense of losing control of my day/week/month with no real end in sight, I have unintentionally and unconsciously become a martyr.  It creeps up on you slowly.  First, I resisted the fact that children are such time suckers.  When I was pregnant with my first child, I remember having thoughts about other people who had kids like, “Why can’t they just get a babysitter?” or “She needs to learn to set some boundaries!”  How judgmental I was of things I didn’t even understand.  I honestly thought I could carry on with my life, my career goals, my self-care just like I had in the past with a few minor adjustments.  I didn’t understand how friends of mine could let themselves go and speak of going days without showers or eating.  “That is absurd!” I thought naively.  When I was faced with the reality, however, that there would be no carrying on as I had done before; that days/weeks/months would go by without the oh-so-craved-and-sought-after sensation of productivity, I began to realize just what people (women, especially) were complaining about.  For the first time in your life, you are faced with the reality that you have NO control over your day.  For control freaks like me, this is a stark realization.  And those first few weeks and months of my first son’s life, I was bound and determined to prove everyone wrong.  I didn’t downsize ANYTHING!  In fact, I made my life more complicated and high maintenance.  I updated my website for weeks on end while nursing him, came up with business plans, worked on brainstorming different layers of my brand and amped up my marketing strategy.  I even hired a marketing intern to spread the word about my services to potential customers and went on a rampage to streamline my business and form a corporation and/or franchise.  Instead of reading books about baby development (which I did as well), I would read books about marketing and strategizing.  Clearly, my thoughts were on my business.  Was that wrong of me?  Who is to judge?  I was doing what I thought was best for me and my family at the time.  But now, looking back, I am amazed at my lack of awareness about how much my life had and was going to change due to this new little being.  I’m also amazed at what I most likely missed out on by not being present and in the moment with him when he was so little and why it didn’t occur to me that he wouldn’t stay that way forever as I was busy getting things done!

As they say, “Hindsight is always 20/20.”  I know that throughout my brief gig as a mother, I have wanted to be present.  I have even attempted to chastise myself when I would be sitting on the floor playing with my child while the pressing feeling to get up and do the dishes loomed over me.  I fight that every single day.  I think the thing that stops me from giving in so often now — especially with my youngest — is that I now realize just how quickly time actually does fly.

I don’t know.  I think everything really does need to be approached in moderation.  I mean, as I was going through this class and as I’ve read book after book and done journaling exercises on the subject of self-care and being present in your everyday life, I still come back to some of the same thoughts.  Yes, it’s great to put aside responsibilities and be present with your children.  Yes, it’s great to be in the moment savoring and enjoying every second you can.  But the reality is, at some point, dishes do have to be washed, laundry does have to be done, groceries do have to be bought and put away and eventually cooked and served.  For me, the balance has to be there, though.  Doesn’t it for you?  I love cooking fabulous meals with healthy foods for my family.  I love eating them, too.  But, let’s face it…some nights just have to be pizza nights or chicken nugget nights or breakfast for dinner or leftover nights.  I also love having a clean house with everything in its place.  This one has been a tough one for me to let go of.  I used to spend my son’s naptime picking up toys all over the house and cleaning.  I can’t do that now, because he doesn’t nap anymore.  And if he does happen to take a nap, I have a 6-month old staring at me with the cutest little chubby grin ready to play and laugh and be tickled (his favorite pasttime).  Do you think I’m giving that up to make sure my floor is picked up??  Hell to the NO!  So, the fact that everything has to be in moderation circles back around.  Of course, I’d love to keep a clean house.  And someday really soon it’s going to be important for me to have clean floors for my baby to crawl on and free of things he can pick up and put in his mouth.  But the reality is, my definition of clean has changed.

As for the “martyrdom” issue, I really think I need to step back and look at this one a bit longer.  I’ll try to blog about it later.  I think we all struggle with it don’t we?  And, what I’m finding is that I struggle with it more when I’m not taking care of myself and I’m continually saying “no” to my needs.

For now, I’m going to say that I’m grateful for:

1. the boys are in bed and it’s not too late.
2. we had a great weekend!
3. my Dad is feeling good.
4. it’s THANKSGIVING WEEK!!
5. even though my parents aren’t coming, we have some fun stuff planned together as a family this week!
6. Costco
7. my voice made me some $$ today for the first time in a long time.  We needed the money and I needed to sing!
8. my niece, Sage.  She is such a beautiful little girl who is quickly turning into a beautiful young woman.  I love her!
9. Pierogis. Discovered them at Costco.  Great solution for a quick dinner. Yum!
10. the fact that I’m not Catholic. God, those masses are long!

Zombie Mama

by Amy | Nov 17, 2011 | mama confessions

What is wrong with me?  I’m such a zombie lately.  I just got an email from a woman reminding me about a gig I have this Sunday cantoring for a Catholic mass.  I have a rehearsal tomorrow, and I completely spaced it out.  I’m so glad I’m not involved in any more things (at least that I know of) right now, or I’d probably be forgetting about those too.  It’s so weird.  I am past the newborn stage where you are given a free pass for being forgetful and too exhausted to do normal things like cooking, cleaning, showing up on time, etc…  My baby is now 6 months old.  I should be running a corporation by now and making my own bread, right?  I’m only kidding, but that’s how it feels.  Somehow, when your baby reaches an age where he or she is no longer a newborn and his poop goes from that mustard seed liquidy consistency to a more sturdy sweet potatoe puree consistency, there’s this pressure to get back out there and get moving with your life.  I don’t know who puts that pressure on me, but it’s there.  It’s a feeling very similar to getting over the flu.  People are sympathetic while you have the flu and possibly even a couple of days after the flu has left your system, if you’re lucky.  But then, it’s over.  Put on your big girl panties and get it together, Lady!  You’ve got things to do, places to go, people to see!  Chop Chop!

This past week has been especially draining and has made me take a step back and realize how much pressure I put on myself to perform.  Even though I quit pursuing performing as a singer years ago, and have since skimmed quite a bit out of my once hectic and busy schedule in order to raise my children and attempt being sane in the process, I still have this inner calling to pull it all together and reach far beyond my capacity and outdo myself and everyone else in a similar position.  I don’t consciously think I’m doing that.  In fact, I think most of our actions are subconscious unless we take a step back and answer some tough questions.  It’s not that I don’t want to be my best.  I want to be at my absolute best for my children, for myself, for my husband, for my family.  They deserve the best.  I deserve the best.  But here’s the deal, there is a fine line between being my best and burning a candle at both ends. 

Back in 2006, long before I was pregnant with my first child, my brain began doing some strange things and playing tricks on me.  I was teaching over 40 students a week, singing with a church choir, singing with Conspirare (a local professional choral group here in Austin, TX) and accepting offers for gigs here and there to make ends meet and gain more experience.  I knew I was tired, but I couldn’t slow down.  I was like a magnet in a jar of paper clips.  I just kept saying “yes” to every possibility out there, because GOD FORBID you say “no” to a music opportunity and not get asked to sing again.  Even worse would be turning down a potential new student — especially after having to work so hard to build up my studio.  Somewhere down the road, however, I started to unravel.  I would be sitting at a stop light and even though it was still red, my brain would say that it turned green and I would start to drive out in the middle of the intersection as cars coming toward me would honk and slam on their brakes.  I knew something was wrong.  I knew I had to get help.

Shortly thereafter, I sought therapy with a provider through my husband’s work.  I got 8 free visits, and I began talking to a counselor every week for an hour.  Throughout the course of our time together, I discovered that I was taking on too much.  I was working my butt off, but I couldn’t breathe.  My body was shutting down.  Worse yet, my brain was shutting down.  I was given the diagnosis of Adult ADD.  She pressed for me to get on some form of prescription medication, which I did for a while.  It helped for a time, but the inner problems I was dealing with did not go away.  I was still striving for the ungettable get.  I was still trying to overachieve and outdo.

Later that year, I started graduate school at the University of Texas in San Antonio.  This forced me to take a step back from a lot of my singing gigs back here in Austin and cut my studio in more than a half.  Three times a week, I would drive down to San Antonio, TX from my home in North Austin, spend the day down there attending classes, studying at the library, practicing in the practice rooms and then turn around and race back home in order to teach a few students in the evening.  I did this for nearly two years!  But it wasn’t until I got pregnant upon my last semester while writing my master’s thesis and preparing for my recital that I realized how much I was pushing myself.  I had a miscarriage within 8 weeks of finding out I was pregnant in January 2008.  As if that weren’t bad enough, I lost my voice completely and still had a graduate recital to perform.  At that point, everything had to be weighed and prioritized.  Things that were unimportant quickly went by the wayside.  I started doing acupuncture and drinking herbs and finally regained my voice and sang beautifully in my graduate recital.  Looking back, I can’t even believe I managed to pull it off.  It was truly a miracle!  Not even 6 weeks after my recital, we traveled to Vienna, Austria to see my husband’s family before I was to begin my next gig with Conspirare.  While there, I found out I was pregnant again!  We were so happy, but yet, there was still much to accomplish before obtaining my graduate degree. So, once again, I found myself rushing and fretting and scurrying to get things done.  When we returned from Vienna, I was beyond sick.  I could hardly stand.  For the first time ever, I called in sick for a gig.  Fortunately, I was let off the hook and did not complete my contract based on the fact that I was worried that I would have another miscarriage.  I caught a little bit of flack from some of the other singers, but I knew I had to do this for me and for my child.  I’m so glad I did!

Wow!  How did I go all the way down that road?  I didn’t mean to divulge so much.  Sorry! 

Early last year, a girlfriend of mine shared with me some information about a local author and life coach she worked with.  I ended up attending one of her workshops on being an “empowered entrepreneur” and bought her book entitled, The Mother’s Guide to Self-Renewal.  Man, did I EVER need that book!  When I opened up the book and started reading the first few pages, I remember feeling this sense of inner peace and self love that I hadn’t felt in a long time — if ever.  I had always been so hard on myself and was constantly looking for a new challenge, that I wasn’t able to stop and just let myself BE.  What struck me the most is that I could get away with this self-loathing behavior as a single person or a married non-Mom, but I absolutely couldn’t let myself get away with it as a Mommy of a growing baby boy! 

I’m still processing all of this and need to read and reread that book as I continue to steer my way through this journey into self care and self love, but I will say that I’m making some valid attempts.  This A New Way of Being telecourse taught by the same person is causing me to stop and think, yet again, about who I am in all of this and what am I doing here?  The last class is tomorrow, and I’m so looking forward to tuning in — even though I wasn’t able to really be present in last week’s course because of all that was going on back home with my Dad.  I really want to inhale tomorrow’s course and let it sink in.  I would really love to just let myself be transformed by this whole idea of skimming off all the excess weight — whether it be my own thoughts, my perception of my own responsibilities, things I have committed to (or overcommitted to) and how I look at myself.  I shared with the telecourse group a couple of weeks ago that I needed to let go of ridiculous expectations in order to achieve a new way of being.  However, that posed a problem because deep down I actually like being a perfectionist and going above and beyond — even if it nearly kills me.  That’s a tough habit to break. 

Now for some audience participation:  What things do you do that sabotage your efforts to slow down and enjoy your life?  What thoughts do you have that reinforce old patterns and keep you from a new and better way of being?  Are you a perfectionist?  Are you always striving for the next challenge?  Are you quickly bored when you are faced with a day with nothing going on other than being home and spending time alone or with your kids?  Do you find yourself trying to fill up your calendar but then being overwhelmed by all the obligations?  What’s keeping you from creating space and time for yourself or quiet time for your family in your calendar?  Are you gentle with yourself or are you always beating yourself up and feeling like a failure for one reason or another?

Today I’m grateful for:

1. having an outlet for my rambling
2. being authentic — even if it’s not always pretty, nice or fun to be around, I am who I am and I like that about me.
3. the fact that I’m learning to let things go a bit more.  (Example:  I am in bed writing this and the house outside of my room is a disaster)
4. cooler weather is coming
5. the boys are in bed
6. I managed to make a meal tonight. 
7. even though I don’t see it, I’m getting things done.  Little by little. Day by day.
8. the fact that I’m growing more and more tolerant of unshaved legs
9. the fact that I’ve read so many self-help books in the world, that I can easily recall passages that help me on command.
10. the fact that I’m going to bed.  RIGHT NOW!

Bah Humbug

by Amy | Nov 16, 2011 | mama confessions

I can’t quite put my finger on why, but I just don’t want to deal with the holidays this year.  Ever since I can remember, Thanksgiving and Christmas have always been my favorite time of the year.  I love the cool, fall breeze, football games, pumpkin patches, fall scents and the anticipation of a day spent with the ones you love giving thanks.  For years, Thanksgiving was always at my Grandma’s house.  All of us would pile in her tiny living room and watch football and we’d pile in the kitchen to pile up our plates with turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy and toss it back with some sweet tea.  Thanksgiving was never right without my Grandma’s homemade rolls and corn fritters.  Man they were good!  I can smell them now and taste them like it was yesterday.  For dessert, we would usually have a wide array of pies that everyone baked and lined up on the buffet.  We’d have several varieties of pumpkin pie, pecan pie and my Grandma would always add in something like blackberry cobbler or apple pie or sometimes even gooseberry pie (my personal favorite).  My Mom’s side of the family’s last name is Pilgrim, so there were at least two occasions where we were selected to participate in news interviews or for write ups in the newspaper.  One year, we made a whole column and our picture was on the front page — simply because of the Pilgrim name.

Over the years, Thanksgiving has become less festive as all of us have grown and moved on.  My Grandma stopped hosting the holiday at her house because our clan was growing too much and her house kept getting smaller and smaller.  It was also hard on her to have that much responsibility and so many people over at once, so we started having it at our house.  My Mom always did the turkey and stuffing and I have always made a few signature dishes of my own to contribute.  My Grandma would still bring her rolls and fritters and over the years, we’d all try to duplicate one of her signature dishes, but we could never quite get it right.  Once I moved to Europe, Thanksgiving became a thing of the past.  I always came home for Christmas and Thanksgiving was too close, so I never made it back for that.  Many times, I would celebrate with my American friends in Vienna, which was always nice.  We’d do a potluck and everyone would bring their specialty.  Since my friends were all from different backgrounds, we had a huge variety of different types of food.  A lot of times, the grocery wouldn’t carry certain things that would lend to a specific recipe, so we’d have to improvise and do our best to make it work.  And I believe I spent a couple of years working over Thanksgiving and sharing the celebration with colleagues.  It was still special, but not like the Thanksgivings I grew up with.  Since I have lived back in the States, I have been home once or twice for Thanksgiving, but we quit doing it when we realized we’d just have to get back in the car and turn around 4 weeks later if we wanted to come home for Christmas too.  Since we stopped going home for Thanksgiving, we’ve had a couple of Thanksgivings where my parents have been able to make it down here.  That was always special because I could show off my turkey making skills and my Mom could relax for a change.  I even made Thanksgiving dinner 2 weeks after my oldest son was born — which was interesting and exhausting!  But typically, Thanksgiving has just been us — our little family — here at home in Austin without visitors or further plans other than attempting to eat a 4-5 lb. turkey on our own with lots of leftovers for days on end until everything is gone.

This year, we had everything arranged.  My parents were going to come down the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and then we’d get up on Wednesday and head to San Antonio where we were all booked to stay in a hotel on the Riverwalk overnight.  Then, we’d leisurely head back to Austin and I’d prepare our Thanksgiving meal.  I was so excited!  We wouldn’t be alone for Thanksgiving and for once, we’d have something fun planned ahead of time.  How often does that happen?!

Then I got the text last week about my Dad.  My Dad had a TIA or mini stroke, and was in the hospital for several days while they stabilized his blood pressure and ran tests to assess the situation and acquire more accurate information about his condition.  He will now have to undergo a very serious surgery on his carotid arteries within the next few weeks due to 50-70% blockage and take it easy. 

Quite honestly, I’m not upset about my Dad’s condition.  Yes, I’m worried about his health.  Yes, I’m sad they aren’t coming after all, and we will be spending Thanksgiving with just our little family.  I’m anxious about the surgery and pray that it goes well.  I wish it were tomorrow rather than 3 weeks from now.  I think what gets me the most is that I’m so far removed from the situation.  My sisters can go over and check on him on a daily basis, but I’d have to get a plane ticket and alter my life in a major way to go there and no matter how much I wanted to be there last week when he was in the hospital, I couldn’t do it.  We were just there for my Grandma’s funeral…then only 4 weeks before that for my Dad’s birthday.  Going again already would be too much.  But I wanted to.  And being here really did a number on me as I awaited information from family members who don’t like to use the phone or email.

This is in no way a sympathy plea, but I’m just sad.  I’m sad that my Grandma is gone and it’s the end of her era.  I’m sad by the realization that life is going by and my parents are aging.  The “good ol’ days” are over.  I’m happy that I get to create new memories and traditions with my own little family and I’m so grateful for that.  But, right now, at this very moment, I’m feeling nostalgic and sad.  I never meant to leave home for good.  I just wanted a new change of scenery for a while.  But, here I am…10 years away from home and the prospect of being able to return just doesn’t seem very probable.  It’s not to say that I don’t like Austin.  I do.  I also love my friends here and the life we’ve created.  It’s funny…I don’t think I would have missed it had we left even 3 years ago, but I’d miss it now.  I’d be leaving a lot behind.  But, to not have to go through all the emotions I’m going through right now, I’d do it in a heart beat.  I hate being out of the loop.  I hate not being closer and able to pop in and help out when I’m needed. 

I don’t know that I sound very grateful tonight, but I am.  Here are a few things I’m grateful for:

1. My comfy bed.
2. The boys went to bed by 6:45pm tonight.
3. I received this wonderful almond exfoliator from L’Occitane from my Aunt Babbie and used it this morning.  It was heavenly!
4. Today was a really sweet day with my boys.  We didn’t go anywhere, but were able to just hang out and enjoy each other’s company.
5. It rained today
6. My Dad is home and in good spirits
7. Tate had a great birthday on Monday
8. I was really on top of his party this year — even though I wasn’t really in the mood to throw one.
9. falling asleep as I type this…hopefully I can finish this list tomorrow (or make a new one)
10. going to bed now…good night!

How Do Dinosaurs Deal with Stress?

by Amy | Nov 14, 2011 | mama confessions

There’s a beloved children’s book series by Jane Yolen called, “How Do Dinosaurs…?”  Each book discusses a different aspect of learning appropriate behaviors for things like bedtime, eating food, playing with friends and so on. 

What if a dinosaur’s friends come to play?

Does he mope, does he pout if he can’t get his way?

Does he hide all his dump trucks, refusing to share?

Does he throw his friends’ coloring books up in the air?

 Right now, I feel like I could use a book about how dinosaurs deal with stress.  It might go something like this:

What if a dinosaur has a sick Dad?

Does she mope, does she cry, does she pretend she’s not sad?

Does she drink lots of wine and eat lots of food?

Does she yell at her kids ‘cuz she’s in a bad mood?

I’m finding this phase of my life to be a really tough one for me.  Simply for the fact that I’m heavily relied upon and not able to adequately process things going on outside of my current little hemisphere.  For the past few weeks since my Grandma died, I’ve found myself having to cry at night while the kids are asleep or during those short moments when I run to the bathroom and get a minute to myself.  I don’t want to scare them by my grief.  I don’t want my sadness to affect them.  I know they will eventually need to learn what grieving is, but not now.  Now isn’t the time to fill them in on the inevitable pain that comes from losing a loved one. 

After finding out that my Dad had a stroke last week and will now have to have surgery within the next few days, I am once again faced with the reality of losing a loved one.  I pray that everything works out, and he has a successful surgery and is restored to health.  God, I do.  But, the truth of the matter is, his condition is serious and the procedure that he is going to have done is risky and life threatening.  My Dad and I are close.  He’s close to all of us.  He’s that kind of Dad.  We haven’t always had a perfect relationship.  We’ve had our ups and downs.  But, he has been there for me over and over again throughout my life and I love him so much.  I can’t imagine life without him.  He’s only 60 years old.  That’s too young to be faced with something this serious.  He’s too young for his life to be over.  We need him here longer.  I need him to be around to watch my children grow.  I need about 2500 more conversations with him before I will feel I’ve had enough.  Maybe even more than that.  I need him to mumble over the phone and tell jokes that only he thinks are funny.  I need him to tell me stories he’s already told me about over a thousand times…yet another time.  I need him to supply me with wayyyy too much Laura Little’s fudge from back home and cut out articles that he thinks I’d be interested in and send them to me in the mail.  I need him to tell me every detail about every make and model of every car ever made and make sure I know the small differences in the body style of every year of VW Beetle ever made. 

I’m scared.  Maybe this crisis is riding a little too close on the tail of the previous crisis and skewing my reality.  Maybe my geographical distance from the situation is making it seem more dramatic than it actually is.  I don’t see anyone else in my family putting the breaks on their own lives over this.  They are still updating their statuses on Facebook and going to the grocery store.  They are still going to work and taking care of their kids.  So, why is it that I feel like I can’t move?  I feel paralyzed by the possibility of losing my father.  I feel like I am incapable of doing my day to day things. 

Last night I sucked it up.  Despite my paralysis and disdain for hosting a party which would include lots of sugared up toddlers running through my house and having to be social, I stayed up til 1am and decorated a cake for my son’s birthday party.  I got everything ready while the kids were sleeping and woke up this morning and was, for the first time ever, completely on top of the occasion.  I was ready when guests arrived.  I was present.  I was in the moment.  I was not hurried or frazzled or scattered.  I was prepared.  I was calm.  I was collected.  I was alive.  He had a wonderful birthday.  We had wonderful guests and wonderful children in our home.  He loved his cake.  He loved his presents.  Life was good.  Today. 

Tonight, after all has been baked, decorated, eaten, wrapped, unwrapped, put up, taken down, set up, thrown away.  After the house has been filled with anticipation and filled with loud, happy children who are filled with sugar.  Tonight, after babies are nursed to sleep and toddlers are put to bed, the house is quiet.  I can now grieve.  I can now cry.  I can now ask, “Why?!”  I can now stand in my kitchen in my pajamas and eat more cake.  I can now write to my soul’s content.  I can now worry.  I can now pray.  I can now plan tomorrow and gather the strength to make it through another week.  I can now pluck my upper lip and eye brows for 30 minutes in the mirror while thinking and processing and analyzing the entire day’s events.  Because tomorrow I will have to put on a smile and wish my child a happy birthday and live our lives as if everything is wonderful in the world.  I will need the strength for that.  I will need clarity and peace of mind.  I will need to be strong for my kids and give them my best.  I can’t fall apart.

Tonight, I am grateful for:

1. Precious moments with the ones we love.  We don’t know when the last precious moment we will have is.
2. My sweet Dad.  I pray he will be with us for many years to come.
3. Precious children who don’t stay children for long.  Damn the system!
4. A house full of toys that make noise and clutter and dirty carpet.
5. Snot and spit up stained couches.
6. Friends who stand in the gap when family is far away and come to your son’s birthday party.
7. Husbands who tolerate mood swings and hug us when we are down.
8. my Mom’s cake decorating skills. I guess I learned something along the way.
9. my metabolism. It’s slowing down, but apparently it’s still good if I can eat all this cake and cookies.
10. having a fitness center nearby. Need to use that facility soon.