Trusting the world with My Girl

It is hard trying to trust my girl in the world when I can't always be there to hold her hand. She's doing so well at school and having to keep to her schedule has really helped me get more done because I have less time to sit around when I'm bored. It has been really good for all of us.

There are two sides of the population of this school. One is made up of students who live close to the local College campus where homes and taxes are a little more pricey and the other one is of students who live in a low income housing community. Before Sweet One started school a dear friend of ours who taught there for many years summed it up for us: You'll see those who have a lot and those who don't. There isn't a whole lot of in between. I think we'd be some of the few classified as in between. There have already been some incidences of challenging behaviour from some of her classmates which have proved to be a bit of a surprise. With the support and strong encouragement of her wonderful teacher, my girl is learning to hold her ground. 

At a recent Parent Teacher Conference we learned that academically she's already passed the markers they want them to achieve for the end of Kindergarten so that's easy part of it all! They are already working on reading (She seems to have learned how to read overnight without us teaching her! It's like she's always known how.) and math. I didn't do that until I was in Grade 1! While I know it is great for my girl, I worry for those who are not ready for it and how it might cause them to act out even more than they already are. Especially if they don't have the support behind them at home.

Making new friends at school has also brought with it a birthday invitation. I've said she can go. We went to Wally's Mart so she could pick out the birthday present all by herself. Initially I felt like it would be fine but it is very scary to send her into someone else's house who I do not know. It is all so new. I can not tell you what the anxiety-prone part of my mind is doing to me. I volunteered at the school awhile back and it was nice to have the opportunity to put some names and faces together. The birthday girl is sweet and I can't see how a bad family situation would create that. From what I can tell she's living with her Grandparents. The likelihood of her getting hurt in someway at something like this is very low so why am I being ridiculous?! I've taught her that she can call us if she is ever somewhere she doesn't feel safe. And if the people won't let her use the phone to just take it. 

I want to trust this world. I want to believe in the inherent good in this world. But it is all so scary for me when I hear stories on the news and other places. I guess that's one of the problems with so much focus being on what is wrong with this world and the evils of it. We don't focus on the good things. I do truly believe I need to trust her in and as a part of this world. To do good and to take her big beautiful heart with her and hopefully help someone have a better day. So despite how scary it is for me, I will send her to this part and trust God to take care of my little girl. Unless, of course, she wakes up with a fever or something!

10 years

I was sitting in my apartment and Big Love and I had just finished eating the breakfast I had made. I often went all out and made him bacon, eggs and hashbrowns when he'd stay over on the weekend. As I sat there finishing up I had a large wave of anxiety come over me. My 26th birthday had passed and a few days before my little sister had brought my beautiful niece into the world. Big Love and I had been dating for a few months. I stopped what I was doing. I felt dizzy. Everything started to swirl.  

I'm closer to 30 than 20, I thought I'd be engaged to someone at this point in my life, my sister just had a kid and there are no kids for me any time soon, I just started dating this guy in front of me, I had a major break up only a year and a bit ago and I'm not sure if I could handle another one....

I'm not joking when I say that Big Love got most of that and probably more. The thoughts that were running through my mind spun through my grey matter then up and out in one long sentence and ended with "if you don't think that you can marry me one day, just tell me now." Yup. I did that! His response? "Hon. We're fine." Quietly, calmly. Full of certainty.

My niece turns 10 soon. In less than 2 weeks I will be 36. I'm closer to 40 than 30, I don't have a career, I have been married for 8 years and it seems like we're desperately trying to figure out where the magic went, (of course I still love him and I even still like him, we're just a little stuck and disconnected), my daughter is 5, my son is 3 and they have me bursting with love and pride one minute and spinning in circles the other, we don't want to be living here for too much longer but there don't seem to be good job listings popping up for Big Love, and would we actually be able to afford to live in a larger center on his type of salary? money never seems to be more plentiful, would our current house actually sell in a reasonable time since there have been houses on our block for sale more than a year? I'm always tired, nothing I do seems to help me have more energy, ...... It continues to spin and given what I see at my freak out 10 years ago, I'm sure I'll look back on this in ten years and see how it all worked itself out.

I think I need to write things out more. Whether it be here or in morning pages but having it all inside doesn't seem to be helping me much.

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."

Unexpected days

I've spent a lot of time in the past few weeks yelling at my kids. Not because they deserve it but because every time something got hard I got angry. I thought a lot of it was because of the journey we have ahead of us to inter my father's ashes. That with my kids fighting bedtime, I was a mess.

Two days before Father's Day was here, my friend mentioned how hard it is. And I wanted to cry. I didn't think Father's Day was going to be anything for me because I hadn't made it anything for my Dad over the past few years. On Saturday, I had two lemonade and vodkas before supper. I loved the buzz. On Sunday, I just kept breathing and tried to make it through. The first hymn at church was one we often sang as I was growing up and I could hear my Dad's voice. I couldn't sing. Too many tears were ready.

Monday we started a project on our porch that I thought would be quick. Pressure washing away the paint on the ceiling of our porch and then letting it dry so I could start painting on Friday. That was not the case. There's been a lot of scraping. I hate scraping.

This morning I woke up and I was on the verge of tears. I'm sad. I'm grieving. It's an unexpected stage but it is still hard. I kept trying to put one foot in front of the other but I was stuck. I didn't know how I'd make it through with the kids. My feet have been bothering so I decided I'd load them up in the car and head north 35 miles to get some  insoles as well as play at a park that was near enough to the store. I didn't leave on time so that I could get back for nap time. But instead of getting stressed out, I let go. (This is my biggest lesson right now, learning to let go.) I stopped at a St. Arbucks, grabbed a fully-caffeinated latte and headed to the park. The kids played for an hour and I love drinking my coffee as they had fun. Then we got my insoles and headed to a fast food chicken restaurant-A for lunch. Little Man fell asleep on the way home and continued to sleep when the car was parked at home.

I usually plan things. I hold on to nap time with white knuckles so I can keep my sanity. But today, my sanity was found as I threw away the usual schedule and allowed myself to be sad. It's nice to be sad. It's easier to be angry but actually allowing the hard part, the sadness, through, then the healing can begin.

What's next?

At the end of a long day of traveling we found ourselves in a strange city. While neither of us had ever been to Seattle, save driving from its airport to a hotel further north, it didn't make us nervous. Cities make sense to me. The mass transit, the buildings, the people walking and cycling. I loved it. Little Man was strapped to my back while I pushed Sweet One in the stroller and Big Love hauled the suitcase behind him. At least my cargo sang at the top of her lungs for most of our trek!

I want to be living in a bigger center in the next few years. Right now ourr life in a small town with very small housing costs is manageable but I worry about whether or not we'll be able to manage it. (Yes, one day I do want to go back to work but the idea of what to do and how to make my skills appealing is another post in and of itself.) I see the people walking down the street, I read blogs of young families figuring out their owns lives where they live and I can't stop wondering how we all end up right where we are. I look at lovely houses and gardens with children playing in them and try to picture us in their place. I'm excited at the idea of figuring out how to get where we want to be but also scared because I really have no idea what our options might be. Or even if it is going to happen when I'd like it to happen. (We originally thought we would only live here for 5 years. This July it will be 7!)

Maybe that's my problem. I have no idea. There's no equation that will help me understand why one person lives in a wonderful city while I am in this wee town. We need to take the steps necessary to see where our next stop is but there are moments I'm afraid it will never happen.

A weird dream

Two mornings ago I was having a weird dream moments before the kids woke up. It's sort of stuck with me because I found it quite weird.

I was watching the news (which I never do anymore) and the station for the nearby larger center had a story about a group of homeless people who had created a beautiful and moving light display. I'm not exactly what it consisted of but I knew that my first reaction was that if it was supposed to be as inspiring as the coverage was saying then I absolutely had to go. When I got the kids napping I left. I went to the display. I didn't really care that I left my children at home alone because it was more important for me to see something that would provide me with a spiritual experience. When I arrived home, Big Love was back from work because I had been gone much longer than I imagined. I had no explanation. I was confused at why he was mad but the guilt hadn't started to set in yet.

Then I woke up.

Maybe she knows what lies ahead

Sweet One has been talking about moving a lot lately. We don't really talk to her about it so I'm not sure exactly why she is bringing it up so often.

"Mum, see that crack on the wall?"
"Yup."
"That means we have to move one day."
"I thought it meant I have to fix it."
"No. We have to move."

As I was snuggling with her just before she went to bed, she talked about taking the things in her room with her when we move. I told her we'd like to move one day because then it won't take so long to go and see her Grandmas and Grandpas and her cousins and all the rest of our family.

We have flights booked (thanks to our credit card rewards) to go to the in-laws in March. We'll fly out of the closest large airport (almost a two hour drive from here), fly to Washington and then to Seattle. That last leg is just under 6 hours. It is so far. We'll stay the night in Seattle and then we hop on a passenger ferry for just under 3 hours and end up in our destination. It is so long.

So each time that Sweet One mentions wanting to move I can not help but hope that it is a sign that the universe is working on it for us. That our hope of being somewhere new in the next 2 to 3 years will become our reality.

Meaningful possessions

I've been reading Happier at Home by Gretchen Rubin. I read about it somewhere and put it on my amazon wishlist. On Christmas Eve, I found it in one of the boxes from my sister that I was instructed to "just leave the goddamn box sealed until the 24" and then wrap the contents up. I wasn't too excited but the moment I started reading it I changed my mind. I'm reading it slowly, trying to think about the things I've read and actually remember them. (I'm not one who can easily remember details from reading, I'm better at big pictures.)

I'm slowly making my way through Chapter 1 which addresses possessions and simplifying. She challenges the idea that having less things around us will make us happier because for some people, these possessions mean much more than simply their physical value.

From my point of view, my sister has a lot of things. Many of them I really like and often find myself wishing I had. When we were visiting this summer she had a coffee cup that was shaped like a Starbucks take out cup and it looks like a black piece of paper with circles cut out were placed on a white mug. I loved it. When I was leaving she gave it to me. It didn't mean much to her but i use it every time I sit and have my coffee at home. I love it. The energy and story behind this mug, despite its simplicity and that my sister probably hardly gives it a second though, means a lot to me. I'm reminded of my sister each day and I get to hold something that she held even though she is many thousand miles away. So possessions are important to some of us.

Shortly after lunch today I turned on Olivia for the kids. I stood there watching them for a few moments and, as I so often do, I rubbed my back with the back of my left hand. Something hurt. I was a little surprised. When I brought my hand in front of me the diamond was missing in my engagement ring. I had cried. I'm extremely sad about it. It feels like such a bigger loss than just a stone. I imagined having it for many years even though it wasn't grand or fancy. Big Love chose it because it had a lot of color in it - sometimes I could see a bit of a rainbow inside.

My sister had talked to me and told me that Dad was talking about coming back to Canada for Christmas. (He was living in Norway at this point.) It was always very stressful to have him in her house for two weeks straight during the holidays and she had asked me to try and dissuade him from doing so. So on a Saturday while on my way to choir rehearsal (I used to sing in a professional choir) I was talking to him on the phone. Because even then our relationship was strained I would often talk to him at this time because then I had an excuse to get off the phone. We were talking about him coming for Christmas and I told him that he may want to hold off on a visit because if things went the way I was thinking they were, he'd need to come in the spring or summer for a wedding. Big Love was at my apartment when I got home about 5.5 hours later and with a little bit of nervousness in my voice, I asked him if it was ok that I told my Dad that. Big Love looked at me with big eyes and calmly asked, "Do you think it is ok?" I said yes and then he reassured me that everything was fine.

I found out a few weeks later that while I had been at rehearsal, Big Love was out buying my ring. He was so nervous he made a few laps around the mall before he actually went into the store. After buying it, he was so nervous/excited that he walked home to his apartment rather than taking the bus (the walk could have easily been an hour). Then he put it away in a safe spot and hopped on the bus to come to meet me at my apartment.

This diamond is so much more than just a diamond. I can not even think of all the things that it symbolizes for me. I have cried and I just feel sad. I really want a little miracle to happen and it show up but I don't have my hopes up. It doesn't seem plausible. It also isn't plausible that we'll be able to get a replacement in any foreseeable future.

(This post has rambled a bit and I'm sorry, but I felt I needed to get something out somewhere!)

And now I need to find the energy to prepare for Sweet One's 4th Birthday Party tomorrow!

A rose by any other name

Hot stuff, beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, love ... just some of the names by which Big Love calls me. Of my little list there, the last one is the only one I really believe. (When we first started dating he called me 'baby' but I put an end to that quickly.) So sometimes I bug him and make comments that he doesn't know my name or can't pronounce it. Then he says it. And it sounds so strange and awkward coming from his mouth. He's even tripped over it a few times. I don't know why this has been bothering me so much lately, but it has. Sometimes I don't feel like I know who I am; I don't feel like myself and I'm a little lost. Maybe my brain is weaving that into the whole name thing and making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to. For some reason it has been bothering me more and more lately. I want scream something but I'm not sure what. I guess it's a good thing that I'll start seeing my counselor in a week from tomorrow!

Just another Saturday night

It's not that I don't think a new year isn't full of possibilities but when you have two little ones in the house, haven't had a decent night's sleep for awhile and your husband has to work on Sunday morning, there isn't a whole lot to get excited about for a New Year's Eve that falls on a Saturday night! Big Love and I have both said a few times today that we really don't care that it is new Year's Eve right now (and we have no more plans than we would on any other evening in the week.) Looking around at our little Christmas tree and the other few decorations we have lingering to remind us that Christmas was only a week ago, my thoughts are more consumed by Sweet One's third birthday that is a week from today. I started a dress for her which I need to finish up and then I have to figure out what to serve alongside the hotdogs and cake so the adults have something to eat, too. I barely had time to breathe from doing all my Christmas preparations!

I do have some hopes for the New Year (and I hope they don't get up too high!).

Perhaps my children will let me sleep a bit more and that these stages that we always have to go through might not rock the boat so much. I want to continue to raise my children in a way that I can be proud of and that will help them be the amazing little people that I see when I look at them.

I really hope that the 3% raise Big Love is getting manages to feel like it helps out despite the 15-20% increase in our medical deductibles that will follow in its wake (and this whole inflation thing!). And if things don't feel any easier, I would like to deal with them better and not begin to lose my mind every time the end of the month comes around and we haven't saved enough to be able to go on a vacation at some point.

I would really like to not feel so gross - maybe I can find a little bit more time for me to exercise and to take care of myself. Learning to not take my tired crankiness out on others would be a good thing to learn this year. If I could figure out a way to let things go more and not self-flagellate over the past I'm sure that would help my new year be more enjoyable. To learn to let people be who they are, even if it means I have to let go.

And finally, to give myself a break now and again.

Happy New Year! Whether you have big plans or little, I hope you enjoy putting up a new calendar.

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.

I don't want to keep up .... and yet

I've been struggling a little bit with things over the past few days. Unfortunately, it may be all whine because I think at the base of it all is my sleep deprivation caused by the inability to get Little Man to sleep for more than five hours at a time during the night. Coupled with an unexpected part of potty training being middle of the night calls from the room next door of "I have to pee", I'm starting to fall apart a wee bit. I've tried for quite some time to not let the lack of sleep get to me and have focused on getting through the day without any real downtime by myself (save some time first thing in the morning when Big Love takes the kids so I can try and scrape the crust from my eyes).

But it is our finances that get to me. We live on a modest salary and for the most part I am proud of how I've been able to make that work for us. (I know damn well that we are better off than many but for some reason I am still frustrated.) Ever since Little Man has been with us it has been harder to stay within our budget and I don't really understand why. With one car, no cell phones, mostly cloth diapering and maybe going to a fast food restaurant once a month, I just don't know where it goes. Then my brain starts to move into a place where I fear that if we ever had to do with less we'd be screwed and I become afraid that our situation will never improve. That I will always be counting every penny we spend, trying to keep our monthly spending within our means and never being able to save any money for anything! (The ability to save enough for airfare to visit our family is a bit of a joke right now.)

What gets me on top of this is envy. I am so envious of people who don't have to worry about things as much - or at least give the outwardly appearance that they don't. I get jealous of the gifts my brother in law sends to my house for me to then ship to him for my sister's Christmas present. They are beautiful and, in my world, very expensive. By the time he pays for the shipping he will have spent on this one gift, as much as I will spend on all three members of my family combined for Christmas. I hate being jealous! It's stupid! I would never dare to wish for something that costs more than $100 if it would only be used by me. There's just no point because we can't afford it.

The cry in my head goes out that THIS IS ALL STUPID! I have a healthy family, a roof over my head, food on my plate, all our bills are paid and I still can't be fully happy. I really don't want big expensive things. The Jones' don't really matter to me. I only want it to be a little easier to save a few nickels at the end of the month. To feel like we are getting ahead and that one day we'll be able to retire and not become a financial burden on our children. I know that the small amount we spend at Christmas on our family is a good lesson to teach them - that it is not about draining the bank accounts. There are children near us that do not get anything and I want to be able to give to them as well.

My stupid brain. How I desperately wish I could have a few nights of decent sleep. I know that would help. I can't even seem to get them if I pray and beg for them. I will try to be happy with what I have. Maybe one day I'll get there.

There is no where else to go

I've been struggling over the past few weeks about whether or not I want to continue attending the moms group that I do. Twice a month Sweet One and I go while Little Man stays home in the morning with his Dad. I drink coffee, sit at a table with other women, listen to the 'lesson' that they teach, do a craft and eat some food while Sweet One goes to the room where they have things set up with age appropriate activities for her. She seems to like it and I do not have another place at this point in time where she can go and socialize with her peers.

The group is a chapter of a national organization based upon concepts and beliefs of Evangelical Fundamentalism and we meet in a large church. The building is enormous and the strange bubble that we meet in is their sanctuary, carpeted to look like it doubles as a basketball court. I've struggled with Evangelical Fundamentalism since I first attended a church when I was sixteen. The sermon hour ended up with people laying on hands, fainting, crying out and having muscle spasm that they claimed was 'the spirit of the Lord God upon me!' The language they use to express their beliefs, the minimal education required for their pastors and how the bible is interpreted are all things I do not fully understand.

Last year it felt different for me. There have been a lot of new moms joining the chapter this year and the bigger it gets the more uncomfortable I am feeling. I am an introvert by nature and I get overwhelmed in too large of a group. I express these feelings by spurting out things I later regret or by getting too eager to talk (our discussion time is limited and I wonder if others feel like I don't share that time enough). I wish I could just sit back and relax, contributing to conversations only when my brain isn't feel like it is about to short circuit.

Another factor that seems to be contributing to my sense of uneasiness here is that I sense a division growing stronger within the group. The very large steering committee is comprised mostly of women who attend the church where we meet. They do a lot of things together. This chapter seems to be an extension of their already established social group that goes from church, to home to everywhere else in their lives. As the overall chapter grows larger the divisions of cliques becomes more established. I think I fear the meetings might end up like their Sunday morning services.

It is so hard for me to fully understand what I am uncomfortable with. While sitting at my table yesterday morning I had a complete view of the entire room. I looked around and saw some faces I recognized and many I hadn't. I starting feeling like we were all there to sit back and watch what the steering committee was doing; that what was being done was more to fulfill their own sense of purpose and self-importance than to build and foster a community of women.

If I were to stop attending these meetings there is nothing else like this in this little rural town. My friend attends as well and I know that she would be sad if I were not going. I like that it gives Sweet One somewhere to play with other children and begin to develop her social skills. (One of the women in the two year old room was my discussion leader last year and she says Sweet One is doing better and better every time.) However, shortly after each meeting this year Sweet One has developed a cold which has also affect Little Man. I don't want to spend the entire winter with sick children!

Maybe I can let go of my own ingrained biases about the denomination. Perhaps I'm dwelling on what I don't like about the denomination because I'm feeling self-conscious there. I'm 33 years old, fer fukk sake, so I should be able to behave myself a little better when I recognize my anxiety growing during the meetings! I just hate sitting here more than 24 hours after the meeting ended still regretting the petulant child who whined too much about the decaf running out quickly. If I'm really lucky, I may be able to gain enough self-confidence to not feel like people are looking at me funny wondering why I'm there. And the cherry on top would be that Sweet One won't get sick every time we go and if she does get sick, she'll fight it off quickly and not give the gersm to her brother. I don't really know. I do know that I wish there was a group in this area I could become a part of that I didn't feel like a sore thumb sticking out.

A small change with huge results

I had a couple of days that forced me to reevaluate my current mindset. Sometimes I need this. A kick in the pants so hard that it leaves my legs wobbly long enough for me to figure out a new way to stand firm.

A week or two ago I first saw some news about Somalia. I wasn't aware of what was going on there and after about two minutes of AC360 just before going to bed, I felt nauseous. As a child I would see World Vision programs on the tube and my little heart would ache. I didn't understand why there were people out there who weren't getting enough food. It seems that my reaction as a mother is even stronger. It is beyond my comprehension why there are women out there who have their children dying.

For as long as I can remember, it has always been a challenge for me to look at the positive before the negative. And then it is just as difficult for me to let go of the negative and not let it overwhelm me. I have found varying degrees of coping from time to time, but unless I am constantly applying my tools I revert back to my old ways, feeling like there is a dark cloud hanging over my head. (The lack of sleep with an infant in the house only makes this more difficult.)

After reading this article and letting it work its way into my gray matter, I became disgusted with myself. I have the luxury to feel my emotions. I have a roof over my head and can provide for my children each and every day. There is nothing in my life that could be considered a hardship at. all. Why the hell can I not find a way to be happy where I am?

"If you don't like your life, change it." For awhile now, I thought that I can't. It would require a geographical change and that is not an option. I erroneously believed that any change to help me be happier would have to be on a large scale. Then something clicked. I can change my negative thoughts. And I would. I owe it to myself, to my children and to my husband. After trying to figure out just how to go about this, I remembered some things I learned awhile back. While eating a Dilly Bar on our porch while the rain came down, I watched my family playing together and silently committed to stop negative thoughts in their tracks. Some were a "that's bullshit, it isn't really as bad as it looks" and others were "this is how I'm going to change it so that it doesn't continue". Perhaps it was all the work I did while doing the Tools to Life program, but after only a week or so I am already feeling better.

I can not change the world but I can change my world.

Stickin' like glue

A few days ago I read this post from the Pioneer Woman and no matter what I do, I can not get one of the letters she featured in it out of my thoughts. Written two or three generations ago, a father writing to his daughter advice that is universal. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

"We're all placed here to do something. It is for us and not for others to find out what that something is, and there with all the energy of which we are capable, honestly and prayerfully to be gone about our business."

And then this morning on FB I read something in a status that is also not going anywhere.

An old Cherokee told his grandson, "My son, there is a battle between the two wolves inside us all. One is evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy and truth."

The boy thought about it and asked, "Grandfather, which wolf wins?"

The old man quietly replied, "The one you feed."

Both of these seem to be sticking to my innerds like glue. Quietly working their way through my mind, my heart and anywhere else that needs it.

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.

Just in time ... but not quite

I found out half an hour ago that our I-380 was approved. Recently the Federal Courts decided to question whether or not these can be filed concurrently with an I-485. Had they not done so, we would have received our green cards with about a week to spare before our current visas expire. Then we wouldn't be in the situation we are: shitting bricks over whether or not Big Love will be getting paychecks next month. I cannot imagine that our I-485 would be approved fast enough but who knows if we could speed it up and avoid applying for the H visas. Who knows. It is all a gong show and I feel like a dryer ball being tossed around in the heat.

..... about 8 hours later....

You'd think that by this point I'd be able to understand all the steps and what happens when, well, not so much. The bad thing is that sometimes my head spins when I try to figure it all out and the good thing? Well, an I-360 gets approved and it is even a much better development that I first thought! After talking with our lawyer, this was what he was hoping for; it's a best case scenario!

We felt pretty strange for awhile, questioning why we are here and what brought us here, are we going to have to pack up and return to Canada, etc. But for now, I'm just going to enjoy some Canadiana as I watch Rookie Blue!

The arsenic hour

That's what my friend calls 4pm or so until supper time when the kids are going crazy while you're trying to get supper ready.

If Little Man hasn't slept well in the afternoon - aka if I've spent all afternoon holding him or walking around with him in the BabyHawk - my anxiety levels rise. Once 430 or 5 hits I start to shut down. Big Love is often home so it's not like I'm trying to juggle both kids on my own. It's rather ridiculous/overwhelming and can last until well after we've gotten Sweet One to sleep.

I'm starting to think that Little Man's sleeping, both day and night, has taken a turn for the worse ever since I introduced the soother at about 6 weeks old. Fukkin' soother. I hate you.

Brief stream of consciousness, otherwise known as a brainfart

This rollercoaster ride of mothering is kinda crazy. One minute I'm almost yelling at my daughter to stop screaming (yeah, that makes sense) and the next she is snuggling close to me, looking like a perfect angel. And at the same time, I'm spending time with a small knot in my stomach trying to figure how and when to put the kids in the same room. I figure that I should wait to do this when Little Man will be able to sleep through the night for the most part which leads me directly into wondering when I should start making him fall asleep on his own. I have no clue even though I went through this before. If he cries for too long he will wake up Sweet One and that is no good when we're trying to train her to sleep longer. We had a hell of a time getting Sweet One to sleep without her soother (transl. "binky") and I don't want to have to do that again. It was necessary to stop her from sleeping with it because once she got used to it she finally started sleeping well. Quite honestly, if I could get him to go without one all together I would. But I know it is a good idea because it helps prevent SIDS and it is a natural instinct that babies have to soothe themselves. Maybe he'll be one of the breastfed babies who don't want a soother. Good lord, both of these kids of mine were suckers if the sucking blisters on their lips (Sweet One's have gone away) are any indication of how much they did it in the womb. I have to remember that while Sweet One still doesn't want to completely give up her soother, Little Man could be completely different and not crave them like crack.

I always do my best thinking at 3am!

As the time draws closer and closer for this new little one to be removed from my body, I am completely relieved that I will no longer pregnant. So many of the feelings from the baby dropping have been harder than I'd ever imagine and incredibly painful. As a woman who will never experience a natural birth, I am blown away by this small sample of what it might feel like.

So yes, I am completely looking forward to not being pregnant an ymore but just as worried about what will happen after. This pregnancy has been so different than my first. I don't have the same kind of excitement about it as I did before which leaves me feeling guilty. I can only hope that once I am holding this little one I will be as in love with it as I possibly can. My guess is that once again as I find myself in the middle of everything I will look back at this 3am bran fart and laugh at how silly I was to think these thoughts.

So it's back to bed, hoping that maybe I can get more than 2 hours in a row (lately the most sleep I get in one dose is 2.5 if I'm lucky) and not feel like absolute shit in the morning.