The world is getting bigger

It was a big day today for my Little Man. Unfortunately, despite getting out for my morning run nice and early, I wasn't moving quite as quickly as I should've once I got back and we were running a bit late. He got on his bike and we headed down to "my new preschool". At the moment that I had to hug him and say goodbye he was holding onto my hand pretty hard. He's always held onto me a little more than Sweet One does. (She ran off to her first day of Kindergarten last week like a star!) I gave him a huge hug and told him we'd go out for lunch when he was all done his first day. "I want to go to Wendy's." Anywhere you'd like, kid.

I couldn't get to the coffee shop fast enough. Why is it so comforting to hold onto a cup of coffee? There are moments in my day where I feel like if I can just rest that cup in my hands, against my chest then I can breathe. Across the street is Sweet One's school and I had to drop off her water bottle that Big Love forgot to put in her lunch bag. ("I want a sandwich, an apple and water for my lunch. Every day.")

I have plans for my 2.5 hours, 3 times a week when I am on my own. I'm going to practice and then I'm going to work on all the projects we have that need to get done at the house. My hope is that maybe if those projects get done other things will fall into place and we'll get to move and our house will sell.

After 5.5 years of ignoring a big part of myself and being at home with the kids, it is weird that right now it is all about me. They are off exploring new things and having new adventures without me as their world gets bigger. And while my heart feels like it might break right now, I'm looking forward to what I might be able to accomplish for myself and with our house in over the next chunk of time.

Kindergarten Registration

Tomorrow is a big day. I've been planning how the day will go: grocery shopping (woo...hoo), preschool in the afternoon, whatever else with the kids until supper and then yoga at 6. But what I don't have in there is the fact I have to register my little girl for Kindergarten and I really don't want to.

If you would've asked me about this day a couple years ago I would've said that in no way do I want Sweet One to start Kindergarten here. I wanted to be in a larger center where I could get her into a language immersion program. Let her learn so much more than what this little town has to offer. I was quite adamant. I think I might have told Big Love that I'd be pissed if we were still here at this point.

And we are. Tomorrow I have to register her for Kindergarten. I'm in complete denial and feel like it is impossible to picture myself doing it. I thought for the past while that I was freaking out about her actually being old enough to start Kindergarten but at this exact moment, it isn't as much about that as it is that we are still here. In a place that my dear friend told me (and a bunch of other people at the fancy yoga retreat in Mexico) that I will never completely belong.

So that's where I am right now. We'll see what tomorrow is.

Progress

"Holding in negative emotions such as grief and anger is exhausting. Naming them and releasing them regularly through writing, movement, tears, singing, or making sounds frees us up to live full, vibrant lives."

"We all have a beautiful light within... We just sometimes forget it is there." - John Holland

I have read both of these quotes through Dr. Wayne W. Dyer's Facebook Page. (Did anyone else laugh their ass off at the Wayne Dyer reference on American Hustle?)

I have practiced 16 of the last 22 days. That's a lot for me. I didn't even practice on my own that much when I was singing regularly in choirs. Some days I have dragged myself through every minute of it, some have had moments to keep me going and then I have a day like today. Where everything sits well. I feel pieces of my emotional being finding their place. It feels good and it will keep me going even if the next 5 practice sessions suck.

For the first time in my life I am practicing for myself because I want to find my voice. I knew that when I started singing again it would have to be for myself only and not because I had people at the church nagging me to do so. I have no desire to sing in the church services right now. Maybe down the road that will change but right now I'm singing the music that keeps me going. And it feels very good.

Scrambled

I'm really not sure what I want to put on this page right now. I feel so much shifting going on internally but the pieces aren't fitting together yet. I'm trying to mentally prepare to be away from my kiddos for 9 days beginning at the end of March and it is scary. A big part of me hopes that the week in the sun, doing yoga, sitting on the beach, doing the things that you do at a yoga retreat on an isolated island is going to take all of this and put it together. Not all that realistic. It is still hard to think that this trip is really happening because it is something that I thought I could only dream of doing.

We've had a rough winter with illness. A few days after Sweet One's 5th Birthday, Little Man came down with a fever and Sweet One got hers the next day. Sweet One's lasted 3 days but Little Man's lasted 5 days until I took him in and learned he had an ear infection. She ended up with a cough that didn't stop for more than a minute or so throughout the entire day. She was exhausted. The next week at her 5 year wellness checkup they diagnosed a sinus infection which didn't surprise me. But a fever came back that same afternoon. 2.5 week after all of this started I got a fever. My first in 15 years. I felt like crap. While I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my bed, Little Man kept whining and asking me to hold him. When I finally gave in his forehead felt hot. Over a week into his antibiotics and he had another fever? Back to the Dr's office for the 3rd time in 2 weeks. He tested positive for the Flu and so both the kids were put on Tamiflu. I picked it up from the pharmacy and the three of us headed south for 1h45 to get my Mom from the airport because she was coming for a visit. (You'd think having her around would be helpful but it really wasn't. She talked about making me soup and when I told her I had everything for it she never got around to it.) The next day I found hives on Little Man and we spent the following 4 days dealing with them because, I do not over exaggerate, there was more hive than skin on my boy. Three antihistamines later and we were able to avoid steroids. Big Love also got a fever to finish everyone off. It was really a terrible 3.5 weeks and now 6 weeks after it all started I still feel weary because Sweet One is still complaining of a sore forehead and coughing. Little Man is also saying he doesn't feel that good.

I'm scrambled. Not sure where I am but trying to have faith it is all a journey that will bring me to somewhere beautiful. I'm currently reading A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson and there are moments when I feel reassured that I am on the right track. This morning I read a post by Sizzle and the quotes she includes from her friend I absolutely love. (Love the housework one and housewives defaulting to drugs!) I've also read some Louise Hay and various other books. I feel like eventually I will be able to integrate it all into my being and then I can heal and thrive.

I'm not settled. I get antsy. I need to meditate more. I'm trying to get practicing again but it is both hard and scary. A wise friend once told me that it is the things that scare us the most that are most worth doing. I actually performed last weekend. A couple 70's love songs. Vocally they weren't challenging at all but it was scary to get back out into the lights. Once I was there it felt so good. And so I keep plugging away. Hoping that all this exhausting work will one day leave me feeling full of energy and finding peace where there currently is not.

Lost voice

Singing always came very easy for me. Learning the notes was never a challenge nor was memorizing. Because of this I was always able to get away with a minimal amount of work. During my degrees, singing in choirs throughout the week also helped work on my endurance and so I never had to practice for hours on my own. The requirements for my degrees kept me moving forward and doing what needed to be done. But that was it.

At this point in my life singing has never been more difficult. It is the hardest thing I am trying to do. After 4.5 years of not singing I started up again. We've had a surrogate family since the day we arrived all those years ago and when patriarch passed away I had no choice but to offer to sing at his funeral. I felt something in my spirit and I couldn't ignore it. A nagging sensation came after me and I ran upstairs to see if I could perhaps sing the piece that was spinning through my head. When I realized there was something there I phoned our friend and offered to sing for her father's funeral. I phoned before I could spend any time second guessing my choice and scare myself out of it. I truly believe that this moment was one of spirit and not of me.

The whole process of getting the piece ready was interesting. Learning the notes wasn't an issue, the challenge was getting some degree of technique back. My voice was so out of shape but I kept working at it day by day with a motivation I've never had before. I'm thankful for it because I accomplished a lot. It wasn't brilliant, but it was damn good considering I hadn't sang in 4.5 years.

A few months later I took another chance. I auditioned for a community production of Les Mis. I didn't get the part I wanted and I wasn't willing to give up time and pay for babysitters for a lesser part. (I would have probably thought differently about it if I were in a bigger place.) The more the producer spoke, the less I wanted to be involved. The more the director spoke, the more I knew she was going to choose someone she already knew from another town. She wasn't ready to take a chance on a wild card. Despite all of that, I left that audition with an amazing sense of accomplishment simply because I put myself out there and spoke my truth. I believed in myself and it felt amazing.

Now I am trying to get my voice back in shape for singing classical repertoire and I don't really know what to do. My voice is pretty much exhausted by the time I'm done singing for 20-30 minutes. I've learned quite a lot of notes in a short amount of time but I'm struggling with figuring out how to get my voice to really sing. I have absolutely no endurance and so by the time I'm done my short practice I feel like I've gotten nowhere. The ease of singing in my previous years didn't prepare me for this. Each time I get myself into my little studio I am afraid but I make myself do it because I know I need to.

I am convinced that in the process of hopefully finding my voice again I am healing so much more of me that I can imagine even though at this moment I feel completely lost. Every once in awhile things go well and I have a glimmer of the freedom I once had in my voice but they are few and far between. I am trying to have faith, to trust the inner guidance I hear that is telling me to sing.

Right now.

I need to learn to love myself. To believe in myself. To have courage in being who I am.

For many years I was taught that I could not trust my feelings. As an INFP, that's a pretty large part of myself that I am told isn't allowed to be heard. I'm starting to feel more and to take a chance in believing in it. Letting it show me more of who I am.

I've been self-abusive towards my physical appearance for many years. In my last year of high school, the day I stepped on the scale and it read 97 pounds was one of the greatest moments I had that year. Not good. I can tell you that I was probably 155 when I stepped on the scale four years later at the end of my Bachelor's degree. I was 130 just before I got pregnant with Sweet One, 135 after and now I'm sitting just under 140. All the running and pilates and yoga and chasing after children that I've been doing hasn't been helping as much as I hoped. Part of the problem was that I'd often eat out of boredom. So I started with MyFitnessPal.com and the first few days were hard but I think they're going to be ok. It is somewhat empowering to learn how much my body needs to be a comfortable weight (perhaps I'll even find my 'happy weight') and then to find foods that will leave me feeling nourished at the end. The foods I am putting in my mouth are quite healthy and I like that. (I also have a friend who has been doing this and knows that it scares me a bit so I'm sure she'll keep tabs to make sure I don't get stupid.)

I've been pretty angry over the past few weeks. It comes in flashes. I keep wondering if it is part of Kubler-Ross' stages of grief. I kind of hope so. Because that way I'll know that it will end at some point and I'll be better because of it. But I don't want it to cause any damage to my kids. It's always my kids. Every time I get mad and yell I look at them and remember how much it hurt me when my Dad would scream at me. How I promised my babies I would never do that. And now I do. But I can stop.

Less than a month until my pilgrimage. I have no idea what it is going to be like to travel so many miles with the kids, inter my father's ashes and then drive back. I hope I learn a lot.

I was sitting here, drinking my coffee and reading Glennon Doyle Melton's Carry On, Warrior. A friend and I went to see her in Pittburgh at a book signing and it was fun. I like her writing. While none of this is 'new', she writes honestly. Without holding anything back. With love and truth. To fully accept what she writes will mean that I have to fully accept myself. As I finished up this afternoon, something inside of me settled and said, "you will."

9 months later

A week ago when we were at our Saturday place for cinnamon buns (a local artisan bakery which we love), I saw a photo on the wall that came from the next door art store. It is of a bit of a dark 'spot' in the trees. Like a quiet place one might find to go and sit. Rays of sunshine are making their way through the branches to light to it a little at a time. I fell in love with it. I've never felt a connection with a photo the way I do with that one. It was on my mind the moment we walked in the store. To say it spoke to me sounds cheesy but that is absolutely true. I felt deep down that I needed to have it. It was $175. I didn't have the money for it but I couldn't take the risk of it disappearing.

I went next door and spoke with the store owner. I told her something was drawing me to that picture and that I wanted it but I didn't have the money right. She told me for $5 down, it is mine and I can pay as I can until I reach the total. No time limit. "You should have an emotional experience when you buy a piece of art."

I nearly cried. I had no worries about committing to the price. (That was quite surprising in itself!) She let me take a small sold sign to place on the picture and I couldn't have been happier. Something in that picture speaks a truth to me that I am only beginning to understand.

I got home and was glancing through Facebook. Sweet One said she wanted to see "that picture". I pulled up my profile picture, saw my father holding me at about 1 year old and both of us completely covered in diaper cream. I looked at the date in the lower right corner of my computer. 9 months ago today he died.

So much is churning inside of me. One thing is somehow connected to the next. I'm singing again, I'm finding beauty in things I see. But most of all, I'm learning to trust my inner voice.

Let go

Everywhere I turn I am being told I need to let go. It is the only way to move on. "The work happens in the let go." I don't know exactly how to do it right now but I'm finding my way, step by step. It's hard. It's terrifying. But during my 35 miles drive home after an appointment with my counselor, I felt a peace that I don't feel that often. Being an INFP, when I can feel something it is my truth. So I take a moment to breathe it in and let the feeling permeate my body. Right now I am where I am supposed to be. It's not the easiest place but there are moments of beauty and light. I believe that when I am through this part of my life, things will be better. I will be better. And it will be worth every moment.

40 Minutes of Hell

Almost a month ago now my best friend came to visit. I decided to treat myself to a few hours of child-free time when she needed to be taken to the airport. We left the house at 7am so that we could stop at the local coffee shop and grab a coffee and then be on our way with enough time for her to catch her flight on time. The big city airport is an hour and a half in absolutely no traffic, which I couldn't expect to happen.

I had a great time driving and hanging out in the airport lineups with her. I sent her off into security and headed off to the Swedish furniture store. I was quite excited. We were in the market for some new bookshelves and a few other small things. I used to live a 20 minute drive from one of these big blue buildings and I've missed it.

I arrived a few minutes before it opened and decided to grab myself a 99 cent breakfast. It wasn't great but the sun was shining in the enormous windows and I could take as long as I wanted. Well, not really because I was hoping I'd only take 30 minutes in the store. That didn't happen. An hour later I was on my way, stopping at St. Arbuck's for a decaf Americano and then I was on my way home.

It was a nice drive. I wasn't too worried. I bathed in the quiet time for myself because it hadn't happened in .... well, I had no idea.

When I got home, Little Man was sleeping and Sweet One was on her way to sleep. I crawled in and gave her a snuggle. Little Man woke up and refused to go to sleep without me holding him.

This would continue every day, in varying degrees, until today. I just couldn't take it anymore and so, just like when he was 5 months old, I decided it was time for him to get himself to sleep.

I hate coming to this decision every time but I know that it will only be a few shitty days and a good result. After all, I've had little issues with Little Man's sleeping in over six months. I read to him and snuggled him for almost 15 minutes and put a very calm baby into his crib. I went into Sweet One's room to read her books, hoping that by the time I was done the books Little Man would be sleeping. Twenty minutes later this was not the case. I said prayers and snuggled with Sweet One for 8 or so more minutes and he was still not sleeping. While I hate the idea of making him 'cry it out', I hate thinking of him being by himself even more and so I stay close to him. Maybe it's self-flagellation, penance or loving support, I'm not sure. I went into the bathroom and scrubbed the tub. (I really hate scrubbing the tub. Why do I need to clean it? The shower cleans me!*) Twelve minutes later he gave two hardcore screams which I translated as, "You bitch! Why the fukk are you doing this to me?" and he's been quiet now for about 40 minutes.

I went downstairs, washed my kitchen and laundry room floors and now I'm finishing a very strong gin and tonic.

****
We are making small strides with Sweet One and the biting recurrence. And I've managed to get some sleep in the past two nights so I feel a little better.

*Do you like New Girl? I love it. And this is borrowed, with a slight change, on a very funny moment that had me rolling on the floor.

13 months and 29 days

Little Man stopped breastfeeding tonight. I had slowly been making my way down to a single feeding right before bedtime and then I'd let him stop on his own. That is what he did. Just like his sister did. And I am proud of the fact that I was able to feed my babies for as long as I did. I'm looking forward to getting back into a 'regular' bra and not feeling like the girls are headed south. (Then again, who am I kidding! I've read many saggy breasts stories on mommy blogs!) I'm glad that I'm not going to have to end things myself in the attempt to keep my nipples safe from being bitten off.

But I'm still sad. I shed a few tears and will probably be a little sad for the rest of the evening. Breastfeeding exclusively (no pumping) defined a big part of how I mothered my babies. But I will let him go just this little bit. Because doing it bit by bit is easier than all at once.

It's not me, it's you

Sweet One is going to be in a dance recital tomorrow and she was so damn cute at the dress rehearsal that I almost died. Perhaps Big Love will need a quick course in CPR before tomorrow! She's in a Creative Movement class and a tumbling class. In the run through for the tumbling they were doing leap frog and she practically jumped on her friend's head at which me and her mother started laughing so hard WE bumped heads together. So fun. Definitely a great mom moment.

But what is pissing me off right now is the bad taste I have in mouth after trying to be polite and strike up a conversation with one of the other moms. Really, I shouldn't be surprised because this woman has made no attempt to converse with any of us other moms in the four and a half months we've been attending the classes. She mentioned being a member at one of the local country clubs and while my friend and I were trying to be friendly and chat a bit, she wouldn't even look at us. Seriously. Quite a bitchy thing to do. But I take these moments personally and waste too much time stewing and feeling shitty about myself after they happen. When really, I wasn't the one being a bitch.

So I'll smile, be happy that I was able to be there with a friend while Sweet One got to enjoy the whole experience with her friend. And be happy with that. Because it is good.

Doesn't fit as I'd like

I finally got the courage to do some sewing. I've had material sitting around for awhile and so I decided to just go for it. Unfortunately, I ended up cutting a pattern a wee bit too small for this postpartum body and chose the too short version. Luckily, I have enough material left over that I can start it again.

I've been struggling with my body these days and I'm not sure if I ever won't. I want to learn to accept it. It gave me two babies who are awesome and I should be happy with that. Right? I've been working out with a few different DVDs at home. I'm getting stronger but I'm not actually losing any weight. I think I need to add more cardio so perhaps on top of doing a workout 5 times a week I can get out for at least 3 real walks with the kids. That might help. Who knows. In the very least, if I can't accept it I need to let Sweet One think that I do so that perhaps she will be happy with hers.

I do know that I'm not absolutely miserable (at least for now) about the fact that 3 hours of sewing has nothing to show for it. And I'm just shaking my head at this pooch of mine. Another time I might have been crying and swearing. So I'm good for now.

I think that's progress.

I know what my problem is

I've been struggling with some bouts of depression and frustration over the past few months. While I know I need to find some time, kid free, for myself and to do something creative, I've recently figured out what the everyday problem is. I'm BORED! I do nearly the same thing day in and day out - juggling naps, make food, spend time on the computer, go for walks, watch tv. It's all the same and I'm fukking bored of it! I need to figure out some way to find purpose in these days. I hate being bored.

SAHM Seeking Confidence

Well, it seems a lack of confidence in my abilities is overwhelming me these days. I started reading a book my friend loaned me called Your Three Year Old. I've read the first chapter where they explain characteristics of the age and I didn't recognize anything until they started talking about 3 1/2.

Sweet One has definitely passed into the realm of 3 1/2 a few months early and this is not an easy stage. Quite frankly, I hate it. I don't feel like I am handling any of the challenges this stage presents in a decent way Sweet One can lose her mind over anything from eating to getting dressed. In between those moments she can be the most wonderful little girl in the world to the point that I wonder if I was imagining the tantrum that happened only moments before! But the moment we get back to a crappy moment I lose my mind as if we never had the lovely time at all! I don't like how I handle myself these days. I feel like shit about it. One reason for all this is maybe that Sweet One and I are a lot alike. (Didn't someone once tell me about a mother's curse?) Right now I'm wishing we had the money to send her to preschool next year. I think she'd love the learning and I'd love the break from her! Perhaps the challenges that preschool could give her would alleviate some of our issues. Unfortunately, I just don't think we'll be able to come up with the cash. Then again, Big Love mentioned that things could be completely different by then. It's all so dumb sometimes!

I'm convinced that the other reason why I can't get a grip on how I'm handling things is the fact that I don't have anything for myself outside of being a mum. I need to do something that gets my creative juices going! I'm hoping that maybe sewing a few things might help with this. The biggest problem to simply getting started is that I'm lacking a lot of confidence in that area. I used to make myself a skirt once in awhile and I have a number of dresses I made for myself but the shorts and shirt I screwed last summer are casting a huge shadow over everything. I do want to sew a few things for the kids, as these are often much more successful projects, but I need new clothes myself and suck at shopping so I'd like to not suck so much at sewing my own clothes! I'd even take a course or two but I can't seem to find any in my area. I have two cuts of fabric waiting to be made into projects. They're there. Washed. Staring me in the face every day. Now I just need to get sewing.

It seems as if I'm the only one lacking confidence. Would you believe that Sweet One started trying to ride a scooter yesterday? I was a little scared. But leading up to this, two of the boys were zooming back and forth while Sweet One screamed at them to stop and be careful. No matter what I did, she wouldn't stop screaming. After awhile their dad said, "Why don't you go and get her helmet and let her ride that one. The youngest one was riding a scooter at her age." He was right. The kid was and he was fine. I was scared but Big Love was behind me as he had just gotten back from work and he's much better at the "it can't hurt" approach. So we went ahead. The moment we asked her if she would like to try riding a scooter she stopped screaming. She was excited and ready to figure it out. She didn't get going very fast at all but she had so much patience with herself. For over an hour she kept trying and trying at her own pace, not getting mad when she'd couldn't go as fast as the boys.

I need to find some of the confidence I used to have in my abilities. More patience with myself wouldn't hurt either. Maybe this little girl is going to keep teaching me how to be a better person.

Survival

A quote from this post has been working on me. I only started reading this blog a few weeks ago hoping to find some creative inspiration. But after reading it this morning, I feel like I have shed a little light on where I am stuck right now and can now has a little more compassion for myself and to, hopefully, work through it.

"Most women I know have only one conscious priority: making it through the day. This is a direct result of having been torn in a thousand different directions in any one twenty four hour period ... but acknowledging, recognizing and reordering our priorities so they can give purpose to our days is a deeply personal task that we all must do..."

My children are keeping me alive these days. I wake up solely because they need me to care for them. I eat and prepare meals because they need to eat. I enjoy the outdoors because they need the fresh air. (So do I. It does wonders for all of us.) I'm back here in this place I equally hate and dread. The dark cloud is nagging at me, exhausting me. If I had more energy I might be pissed off about it but I'm just sad. (Fukking dysthymia.) I have nothing for anyone anything unless they rely on me for their daily survival. At the end of the day, all I can do is lie on the couch and watch some of my favorite shows before it is time for bed.

Perhaps this is all amplified by Big Love's absence and having sick kids to care for during that time, or maybe it is because I have been completely wiped out by my own sinus cold/cough/sore throat. I haven't felt this sick in a very long time. I haven't exercised in over a week because I've been trying to rest as much as I can in the morning.

Thank God for my kids. For so many reasons. At this exact moment I am thankful for the look on Little Man's face as he figures out how to walk. Such pride and elation! Sweet One is constantly amazing me by finding new pathways into her world of imagination. I don't think I'd smile or laugh each day if it weren't for all of these magical moments the kids show me. And that is how they are keeping me alive.

Differences that teach me

Call me crazy but I really thought that at 33 (and only a month and ten days away from being 34) I might not be so afraid of people not liking me. That maybe I'd have some confidence in who I am and what I have to offer in a friendship. I still lose my marbles a little whenever I go somewhere that will surround me with people I don't know.

After living in this community for over five years, I still feel like I have three heads. I have friends here but sometimes it is exhausting knowing that most of their world view is more conservative than mine. I keep my mouth shut a lot because I am afraid I may get burned at the stake if I were to voice many of my beliefs  even with the one friend I consider a very close friend. For the most part I have shied away from sharing liberal items on Facebook. I know my friends back home wouldn't have a problem with it, but here is another story. A couple weeks ago I finally took a chance. I was sick of hiding. A woman that I am hoping to become friends with posted this and I shared it. A number of my friends from back home 'liked' it. Just as quickly, another friend from here commented as to why she disagreed with it. (Now I know she is just sharing her opinion, and she believes that as well, but it often comes across like she is ready for a fight.) I struggled for a few minutes as I tried to decide how to word what I thought - terrified that I wouldn't be concise enough with what I wanted to say or worse, sound like an idiot. Luckily, a friend from back home swooped in and beautifully stated an opposing opinion which was exactly what I wanted to say. (I thank her for her thoughts.) I'm not sure if constantly being surrounded by these differing opinions will push me too hard - I already feel stifled.

"Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to
use the tools and gifts we got yeah, we got a lot at stake."*

I'm trying to grow. Rather than avoiding people who hold different views, I listen. I have learned a lot about making connections with people who I don't click with immediately. I met one woman within the first year I lived here but it wasn't until we both had kids that we became friends. I know I wouldn't have been able to friends with her when we first moved here. I didn't understand how to be friends with people who thought very differently than I about some things. I felt threatened by differing opinions but I am finding that there common threads to build friendships on and learning more about myself. When it comes to the really important things, my views aren't changing to what I am surrounded by, I'm learning more why I believe what I do.

"we had to learn how to bend
without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got
and what I'm not
and who I am."

When I first moved here I went through a lot of culture shock and I struggled. There was a lot I needed to learn about people and friendships. I had spent so many years with people who had similar experiences as I did (school, working in the music community). Those I became friends with rarely had different moral/political beliefs than I did. I took this for granted and truly thought it would always be like this. Perhaps it was about time I learned that this isn't always the norm. I'm not sure if constantly being surrounded by these differing opinions will push me too hard; I already feel stifled. I am trusting that my gut will tell me when I have compromised too much. It's been a pretty trustworthy guide so far.

"I won't give up on us
even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up.
I won't give up on us
God knows I'm tough enough
We got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it." 

 It is hard to feel so out of place on a regular basis but I am holding on. (Some days, barely.) I'm trying to have faith in myself but it can be harder some days than others when I feel like I'm lacking connection to the people in my life that keep me grounded.

*All quotes from Jason Mraz's song I Won't Give Up.

Some people's fathers!

It's not that often I get a thorough update about what's been going on from my sister, but yesterday's left me with a gnawing feeling in my stomach that I can't seem to shake.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before but my sister opened a cupcake/coffee/tea shop just over a year ago. My dad works in home renovation and is often waiting for things to dry and so he spends a lot of time sitting in the shop. Unfortunately, it seems that his presence there is starting to cause her to lose business.

A young boy, about 12 years old, was there with some friends. He couldn't decided what he wanted so he said that he'd like two cupcakes. The kid is 'playfully' smacked on the arm and told, "No, you don't want two cupcakes. You need a sandwich to go with that." My father proceeded to badger this kid until he ordered a sandwich exactly as my father had told him to. After the kid receives his food he realizes that there is no room to sit, as it was lunchtime. He is quickly grabbed and forced to sit down at the table with my father where he proceeded to not eat the food he ordered because he was too uncomfortable.

Later my sister received a phone call from the mother because she was concerned there was a sexual predator hanging out and badgering children at the shop. The staff remembered all of this and were shocked that my father DID NOT KNOW THE KID AT ALL! Not one fukking bit! She profusely apologized, explaining that my father is lacking in social skills and while he is harmless it is frustrating. She offered a free lunch or to mail a gift card in case she isn't there when he returns. The mother thanked her but said her son will probably never step foot in there again.

This is the second time my father has been asked to stop bothering customers. She says that he disappears for awhile, probably pouting, and then returns later on as if he hasn't learned a damn thing. "You just don't touch other people's kids! You'd think he would have learned when he damn near got his nose broken!" The nearly broken nose was a story I hadn't heard.

There was a hockey game going on. In the small town I grew up in, hockey games are a big thing. A huge portion of the community usually ends up there. Something happened that made my father grab a kid. I guess my father picked the wrong kid to mess with this time as his father wasn't too pleased when he heard what had happened. My father was punched in the face five times. It was rough. My brother was officiating at the hockey game. It was the talk of the town for a long time. Charges were almost made by the kid's family. This situation should have never happened. My father needs to get over himself and back the fukk away. Leave other people alone! (Also, why a 30 something guy thought it was appropriate to punch a 60 year old, I don't know.) Such a mess.

Sometimes I wonder how me and my siblings survived being raised by my father as well as he did. I feel sorry for him. He is lonely, doesn't have a functional relationship in his life and doesn't do a thing to make his life better. My niece and nephew don't want to spend time with him and only do when they have to. When your children have to 'explain' your behavior to strangers ... I don't know. I'm finally at a loss for words about it. To quote my sister, "Yeah ... it was rough. Harder to see him afterwards, tho. Everything about him is rough, sad."

And this is a man who once upon a time was the pastor of a congregation. What seminary wouldn't weed out its applicants a little better! He can't even function in his own life, never mind fulfilling the roles of a pastor!

Not as strong as I used to be

I've been trying to get some more exercise in my day, even if it is just a 30 minute DVD workout. I remember feeling so strong and 'in shape' when I was pregnant from working out on a regular basis. The exercises in this DVD sure had me sweating and pushing my muscles quite hard. I've been feeling SO out of shape and frustrated with things lately that I thought I wouldn't be able to handle more than the 2nd trimester workout.

Well, it wasn't as bad as I thought. I didn't get as crazy sweaty as I did when I was pregnant but the exercises did push my muscles to their current max. I did the 2nd trimester express workout and when I was actually in my 2nd trimester, I needed to do the full workout to really push myself. Oh well, hopefully I'll recover some of my strength back soon! I'll give the 1st trimester one a go and see how it is!

Funny thing - I feel less like a dork doing prenatal workouts than I did doing a "Dancer's Body Workout". I can not explain how ridiculous I felt doing that one!

****Warning! Emotional purge ahead!****
I sometimes wonder how much of my frustration with my body is mirrored in a bit of a rough patch emotionally. I'm struggling with feeling like I really don't fit in here. Once again I'm feeling some rejection. At the mom's group I go to last week we had a longer than normal time for our discussion groups. The presentation of the day was about addiction and we ended up having a lot of quiet moments where our 'leader' wasn't doing anything to get us talking and no one else was speaking up. (Even just general gabbing.) Long, awkward silences. I don't well with these and so I will often pipe up and later on feel like a complete idiot for doing so. My friend, who is also in this group, said that I didn't make an ass of myself but I still feel like I did four day later. I had sent a FB message to a woman in my group asking if she wanted to meet with the kids at some point and go for a walk. (She had previously mentioned she has a great hill for sledding and asked if I'd be interested in coming over. I thought "Great! A new friend!") Any other time I've sent her a message I've gotten a response within in the same day but I've heard nothing and it's making me feel like shit. Aren't we supposed to be more confident in who we are the older we get? I'm so sick of feeling like this!

No Santa for Mama

It's Boxing Day today. (Yes, I know it's just the day after Christmas here in the states but it's one more Canadianism I'm not willing to give up!) Sweet One and I just got back from a walk where she pushed her baby in the new stroller all the way. It was pretty cute to watch. She kept up a pretty good pace, not stopping to look at things around but determined to simply go for a walk. She's pretty excited about that gift and I think I'm safe in saying it is one of her favorites, along with the train set that Santa brought for her and Little Man. Unfortunately, the train set has been taken apart and is sitting out of her sight until tonight as I desperately try to impress upon her that it is not ok to bite her brother. My hopes were so high after a full 15 days where no biting took place. But today is day 5 of back to biting and I'm feeling crushed.

That's the thing for me when I get my hopes up. If I take the chance and hope that something might be where I'd ideally like it and then doesn't attain this, I'm crushed. Take for instance that moment when all the gifts are opened and I never got my 'stroller'. After spending every evening since Thanksgiving preparing Christmas for my loved ones, I have again fallen victim to hoping Santa might be able to figure out something that I'd be so excited to have that I'd be ready to take it for a walk rather than just grabbing a few things off my amazon wish list. Maybe I'm at fault because part of the reason I keep my amazon list is to remind myself of books that are recommended or to keep track of larger items in case they go on sale. But it's also not like I'm expecting something big and shiny because in the end, I'm a simple girl. As I alternate between to pairs of cheap jeans each day and outwardly express how jealous I am of all the nice clothes my daughter has, it would have meaned the world to me to get a piece of paper with "you get a nice new pair of jeans" scribbled on it. I've been known to remark how funny it is that the leather gloves I wear were left behind in my voice studio seven years ago by someone who didn't want them back because they had a few holes in them. A few holes? I guess I don't care. But I do. I don't go out and buy those kind of things for me because I don't feel like we can afford them and that I can make do, but I'm starting to feel embarrassed about how sloppy I look.

I always hope that after spending so much time perusing the internets trying to find just the right gifts that might bring a little smile of surprise to my nearest and dearest I would not end up feeling like an after thought.  I was silly enough that Santa would have pieced together a few of my not-so-subtle "why are my children dressed better than me" moments. But I also feel like an asshole when I am tearing up thinking of all the nice clothes everyone else in my house got when there are people out there who would have given anything for even a portion of what I did get. I guess I have a lot of growing up to do. But for now, I'll just try to be a better person tomorrow as I attempt to hide the back fat that keeps peeking out from under this shirt I'm wearing because none of the four shirts and three or four sweaters I alternate between are all in the wash.

A muddled mess

I can not get my thought out. I want to scream it but each time I start to type and try to figure out what it really is, the words suck. My feeble attempts to put words together fall apart. I'm frustrated. Being a SAHM isn't something I imagined being. I imagined being home with my kids but having something of my own to do on a regular basis.

I thought that by the age of 33 I'd have a better idea of what makes me happy. But I am still just a girl trying to make sense of life. And I get sick and tired of reading things that tell me to follow my dreams, live my passion, if I'm not happy I should just change it. It's not that easy. (And for many others, it is impossible because they can barely keep food on their table.)

But that is where this foggy brain stops. Eager for a few answers. Hoping desperately that just once, the work I do to get my gray matter to function better doesn't always have to have the "one step back". That the times I feel like I got somewhere, managed to get a bit more of a handle on my dysthymia, don't have to be a memory.

I want to be able to be more present in each and every moment but it is hard because I am constantly thinking of what needs to get done next, or where I need to clean when the opportunity arises. I hate it that I check my watch while I am playing with my daughter to see how long I've been doing it for, rather than just doing it.

How often I am reminded of growth being an erratic "two steps forward, one step back" in so many ways. It happens with my kids and it happens with my emotional state. But when it is the latter I get pissed off because I hate being in this place, feeling like I can never get my steps quite big enough to get out of the mud.