World's Best Teacher

Ben works as a paraeducator in a first - third grade Autistic classroom.  As much as he loves the job, he finds it difficult to understand the cattiness and gossip mongering that the teachers--all female--participate in.

One conversation he recently overheard had to do with home school.

Teacher one: I can't believe so-and-so decided to homeschool their kids.

Teacher two: I know.  She isn't even educated enough to know how to work with her kids on math and reading.

Teacher three: And her kids will inevitably come back to high school with zero social skills.

Teacher one: Oh my gosh, a roommate of mine in college had a former roommate who knew a girl who was home schooled.  She was so awkward.

Teacher four: Yeah, I knew a girl [who was homeschooled] and she had no idea how to talk to people.

Teacher two: Seriously, parents who think they can home school their kids are ridiculous.  Their kids are going to be way behind the rest of their peers and go to college completely unprepared--if they do go to college.

The conversation just gets worse but I'm going to end there.

I know I probably won't home school my kids.  It's not because I'm afraid they won't be social or will be behind their peers, it's because I can't emotionally handle that plus a husband who is working 70-90 hours per week.

At the same time, if I feel that one or all of my kids would be better suited at home, I would have no problem pulling them out of their classrooms and teaching them.

What I find ironic about this conversation is these same teachers often complain about how annoying parents can be.  These parents want this, these parents want that, and often the parents don't think the teacher is giving their kid enough one-on-one time.  But, when a parent decides that rather than complain about the teachers and the free education their kids receive they will home school them because they think it will be better for their kids, the teachers still find fault.

My husband said it well.  These teachers (not all teachers) feel like home school is their enemy because it means they aren't good enough.  That isn't true.  The truth is, sometimes a parent feels their child needs something more.  Can you really blame a parent when they see their kid struggling and want to give home schooling a try?

There are so many things to write about regarding home-schooling.  So many myths to debunk.  For right now, I want to conclude with this thought: With all the resources available to home schooling parents, do we really their kids will grow up to be unsocial and academically behind adults? I don't know about you, but I'm going to do my best to give these parents all the support they need in making that big decision.

Getting In Touch With Depression

Depression is an oft used noun in today's vernacular.   It is also commonly misunderstood.  To better comprehend the complexity and seriousness of depression, I am going to describe the mental illness and provide excerpts from my personal journal to frame understanding.

Lost and Hopeless

I wish I were somewhere else.  I can't be a good wife or parent.  Ben, and the kids, would be better off without me. I feel like I'm living life in a fog--the only happiness I feel is filtered through the murky vapor of sadness...or whatever it is.  I know it's my fault I feel this way.  I need to be stronger, should be stronger, but it's hard when hope feels so far away.  I can't even see it on the horizon.

Some common symptoms of depression include overwhelming "hopelessness, helplessness, inappropriate guilt or regret, and self-hatred."  Depressed people exhibit a constant low mood and often lose their ability to experience happiness with activities that they used to enjoy. (Source: Wikipedia.)

I have never contemplated suicide, but I have had a few periods in my life--as a teenager, a sophomore in college, and after this miscarriage--that I convinced myself the world, and my family, would be better off without me.

I Am Grateful, Dang It!

I have so many blessings in my life:  Beautiful children, an amazing husband, warm shelter, delicious food, and supportive family members.  Yet I know that I'm not worthy of them.  The negativity that surrounds my thoughts is proof of what an ungrateful wretch I have become.  I can hardly say a kind word to my husband, let alone give him a compliment; my eyes are constantly flashing with anger over the little things my kids do that are a normal part of their development; I avoid my friends because I am sure they notice how deficient I am in so many areas.

A common misconception is that a clinically depressed person can snap out of it if they try to develop a more grateful attitude, pray more, or have more faith.  This is false.  A depressed person is already hard on themselves.  They recognize how great everything is around them, but they cannot bring their mood up. It's a brain thing.

I remember looking at myself, as if from above, and shaking my head.  Obviously, I told myself, I am unfaithful.  Worthless.  With these phrases incessantly going through my mind, I had trouble sleeping, eating, and facing the world.  I would wake up and cry knowing that I had to parent my kids that day; me, an awful mother, would be alone with them.  A miserable place, indeed...*

*After I finished writing this post, I saw how much I had written** and deemed it necessary to break it up into two more manageable posts.  I will post part two sometime next week.

**Seriously, this took quite a bit out of me so you had better appreciate it.  Frankly, if I don't get like 1000 comments I will probably never write again.

Image courtesy of FreeImages.

Nightime is My Time

During the day, as my house gets messier and messier, I remind myself that I will have all night to clean.  Bedtime is at 7, afterall.

Every spilled cup, dropped toy, thrown food, and emptied out bookshelf will be tidied once that glorious hour comes.

Don't worry, I tell myself as I look at the torn apart living room, once the kids are in bed you'll clean it in a jiffy.

The only problem is, I also save other things for after bedtime: Blogging, eating, resting, and reading.  A few hours really doesn't give me enough time to adequately do all these things.

But, day after day, I keep to the same schedule. Putting myself in the same silly situation--being completely exhausted by the end of the day and having absolutely no desire to complete any of my tasks, only wanting to eat and lay down.

Now that I have simplified my life, I don't feel the need to put off the cleaning tasks until the kids are in bed.  It's just a matter of doing it.

A Word About Holidays

Ben and I are horrible about celebrating holidays.  We would completely forget about them if it weren't for commercials and blogs.

True that.

It isn't that we don't appreciate the reasons behind them--although I still don't understand the purpose behind Halloween--it's that we are busy.  Also,  we are very limited financially.

I'm not complaining about our situation, because I feel we are truly blessed, I am only explaining.  We live in a cozy apartment,  eat delicious foods,  have reliable transportation,  have insurance,  have jobs.  There is no reason to complain.

However, when it comes to the holidays there is a certain amount of pressure.  Buy this,  buy that,  decorate!  For a person who still hasn't placed photographs around the apartment we have lived in for over a year,  it's a bit overwhelming.  Compare, compare, compare.  I feel myself giving excuses to people and myself.

At least I used to.

Now, I realize that this is how Ben and I are.  We work hard to keep our kids healthy and happy while seeing after their spiritual, mental, and physical needs.  We don't really think about the extra things--like gifts or decorations on holidays--because the struggle is intense.

At the same time,  our home is our haven.  Sure,  we rarely have holiday decorations on the walls or doors,  but we do have each other.  And the love is palpable.

It's in the clean laundry piled on the couch.

The dishes in the sink.

The toys strewn across the floor.

The boxes of diapers and wipes stacked behind the television.

The well worn couches.

Our lives may be a bit messy and we might be forgetful about traditional holiday things,  but we sure as heck love each other.

I don't know when our lives will be less messy.  We will soon enter a new chapter of our lives: Medical school.  It will be hard.  So very hard. We are lucky,  though,  because we have each other.

Maybe once we are settled we will celebrate holidays differently.  For now,  we try to celebrate them daily,  (at least the religious ones) and remember the most important thing: Family.

Moving Forward

A Little Memorial

We held the memorial service in our living room--a fitting place since most the events happened there--with us, the kids, and my mother-in-law.  It was an emotional and peaceful service.  Short and sweet.

All About Science

Every person handles loss differently.  For me, I use my knowledge of science and reproduction to obsessively deduce what has happened.

Because of the severity of the miscarriage--the intense contractions, bleeding, and clotting--it would seem that I was about 8 weeks along.  Unfortunately, the hCG levels  remained at a 4-week level. Slowly increasing.  Very slowly.  This left the embryo in a very inhospitable environment, especially since the amniotic sac was already having trouble connecting to the endometrium.

My body rejected the growing baby.

Moving Forward

During the memorial service,  a little voice whispered, It's okay.  Your baby is safe with me.  Keep moving forward.

Moving forward doesn't mean forget, it means continue to live.  I have much living to do with my sweet husband and beautiful children.  And with myself.

I have kept myself secluded inside my house.  Afraid to be outside,  unsure of how I would react to questions and condolences.

I feel myself ready to take baby-steps.  Taking short walks around the neighborhood.  Cooking meals.  Talking with neighbors, friends, and family.   Big gatherings, like church, are still too much.  Too painful.  But I'm emerging.

On Life

Many friends have brought over flowers.  They bring much comfort.  Their vivacious beauty reminds me how to live: It's more than smelling the flowers, it's nurturing them.

On returning home from our short getaway,  I ran up the stairs, into my babys' rooms (they were sleeping) and scooped them into my arms.  I smelled their delicious scent and smothered their smooth faces with kisses.  Lots and lots of kisses.

Healing

I'm not as brittle as I was a few days ago.  I feel strong.  Powered by my husband's love, my children's affection,  and the Plan of Salvation, I know I can heal.  The pain will remain nestled within my heart,  nudging me every now and then (like all day today),  but I feel its rawness dissipating.

I am coming back,  armed with a new perspective and knowledge from my experience.

The Domain of Endless Possibilities, Otherwise Known as Rambling Thoughts

My time is severely limited at the moment, so a few cluttered thoughts will have to suffice for a post.  Good luck wading through them.

I sit in my bed and compose the most perfect post, with the best words, grammar, and punctuation.  I wait until I am sure Andrew has fallen asleep and slowly sneak out of the bedroom.  I grab my laptop and start typing.  Then I see the mess in my living room and I smell the kitchen (after one meal, mind you) and realize that the post will have to wait.  I sigh, push the computer off my lap, and head into the kitchen.  Everyday I am stunned--and exhausted--by the mess one tiny toddler can create.

My well designed plan to control the constant chaos in my life has been struggling lately.  Mostly because the kids are fighting their bedtime harder and harder everyday.  If they go to bed later, I start cleaning later, and my well intentioned writing and blogging desires become unattainable.  The heat, which I prefer to winter's cold, creates a sauna-like atmosphere in our upstairs apartment.  The kids have trouble sleeping, and I understand.  Nevertheless, it slows down my routine and leaves me more than drained.

Interestingly, rather than feeling irritated, I find myself accepting the changes without too much complaint.  If a clean house makes me less frazzled the next day, I will gladly choose cleaning over blogging.  Even if I am choosing to do something less than desirable.  Frankly,  I think that's the idea behind adulthood: making decisions that aren't always convenient or fun.

Too often I am hung up on the inconvenience of my current situation but this frustration is not helpful.  In releasing it, I am freeing myself from bondage of self-induced dissatisfaction.  Being home with my kids all day everyday can be difficult and there are times when I yearn for a break, any kind of break.  But right now that is not possible, not for me or for Ben.  He and I are okay with this reality.

I can't really think of a fantastic ending, especially since this post is primarily a mixture of rambling thoughts and my kids are currently engaging in a few dangerous activities, but I don't think that life has any real endings--only many beginnings.  I think that this marks my beginning of adulthood.

A Tale of Nursing

To all my male readers: You are excused from reading this post.  Unless you really want to, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Andrew lost weight at his last doctor's appointment. His weight has been teetering at the edge for the last two and causing me a bit of worry.  My kids are short.  I understand that, but to go from gaining 3 or 4 pounds a visit to gaining a half a pound and then losing a pound usually signifies something else is happening.

Talking with the doctor, we narrowed it down to one thing: a reduction in my milk production.  I had a feeling this was happening.  Andrew has been waking up a couple times at night absolutely famished.  Considering he usually sleeps through the night, this was a bit odd.  I understood this could be due to a growth spurt, but he wasn't getting any bigger.

My doctor suggested I start supplementing.  I was devastated.

I have a love/hate relationship with breastfeeding.  In the first few months, it hurts horribly.  I crack and bleed and nothing soothes my throbbing breasts.   I cry and push my feet into the ground until the baby is latched, then I clench my teeth the entire feeding.  I develop serious tension headaches because the stress.

Why do I continue?  Because I give myself a goal after each baby is born: if I still hate it by month 3,  I will stop.  Somehow this goal gives me the stamina to continue.  That and my pride.

Once the pain subsides (around month 3),  I begin to enjoy it a little more.  Around month 5,  it starts hurting again.  For 2 weeks out of the month, it is painful and I, once again, cry during feedings.  I persist because by that point, my babies will not take a bottle.

I enjoy the bonding moments my babies and I share during those 10-20 minutes, but I don't love breastfeeding.

However, when I realized my milk production was decreasing, I was disappointed.  I have sacrificed so much to continue breastfeeding and it seems so...unfair to have this happen.   And I fought.  I tried to feed Andrew more, tried drinking and eating a little bit more, but it still wasn't enough for my poor little guy.

It was then that I realized that breastfeeding was something I thought I could control.  It seems natural that I would produce something that keeps my baby happy and healthy.  The practice was, in many ways, defining me in my motherhood.  I felt cheated.

Until I realized my goals were warped.  Raising a healthy baby should be my first priority and if I must combine nursing with supplementation to achieve this? Then so be it.

It makes me wonder what other priorities I need to readjust.

A Nap Time Lesson

The kids are in their cribs supposedly napping.  Instead, I hear Emily yelling "Hi!" and Andrew giggling. I can picture them.  Emily is pressing her face against the mesh walls of her Pac N' play while Andrew, on his hands and knees, stares at her through his own mesh surface.  Their faces are lit up with unadulterated joy.

They are best friends.

When in our living room,  Andrew is not too interested in me.  His eyes are stuck on his sister.  They follow her everywhere.  He smiles as she runs from room to room, creating havoc.  He babbles when she starts singing.  He laughs, really laughs, when his sister twirls, hops, and jigs to unheard music.

I look at them and remember.

The horrific pregnancies.  The long nights.  The colic. The postpartum depression.

The easy births.  Our first moments together. Their first smiles.  Their first laughs.

The good, the bad, the happy, the sad, the frustrating, the fun, the painful, the joy--mixed together in life's blender, a combination of bitter and sweet, to be drunk daily.   And I do.  Every last drop.  Because it's worth it.



Right now, I listen to their silly noises and I feel at peace.

One day I will have another baby.  I will feel their movements inside me.  We will grow together for nine months.  We will meet and I will cry tears of immense joy.

That sweet baby will have instant best friends.  Soon  I will hear her or him laughing and playing with their siblings during nap time, and I will remember today.  I may even read these words again.  My heart will swell--for a second time--with feelings of great gratitude.

A tender mercy that I will not forget, but will embrace.  Fully.

Sudden Loss

I had a suspicion that I was pregnant.  Familiar symptoms began plaguing my body: nausea, sleeplessness, moodiness, and back pains.  I was excited.

A couple weeks later the symptoms stopped.  I took a few pregnancy tests, all of which came back negative.  I was worried.

Then the bleeding started.

At first I thought that maybe I had been wrong.  But I knew my body and this bleeding was very different from a normal period.

I have cried with many friends who have miscarried.  I have comforted them, held their hand, or, if I couldn't be there, offered understanding in comments and e-mails.

But when I experienced my own miscarriage, I couldn't talk about it.  Besides Ben, I shared the news with only a couple other people.

I was scared.

The comments well intentioned people would say held me back.  I didn't want to hear--

You're young, you'll bounce back.

You do have two little ones.  Enjoy them.

Maybe it was for the best.

You weren't trying, were you?

Frankly, it's none of your business if we were trying. I also don't care if it was for the best, that I have two babies, or that I have youth on my side.  My heart was--is--still breaking.

That baby I was growing was real to me.  I was visualizing her little hands, his first smile, her itty bitty nose, and the smell of his newborn skin.  I wasn't sure how I would handle three little ones under three, but I was going to try!

Still, my fear held me back from fully mourning.

The impact didn't fully hit me until a month afterward.

It was then that I cried into Ben's shoulder.  He understood.  He continues to comfort me each month when I am greeted by an unwelcome visitor.  He is compassionate even when I am horribly angry for those first two days.

I am my worst critic.

When my period arrives, I begin asking the questions.

Am I not worthy?

Is it because I am a horrible mother?

What am I supposed to learn?

What about the feelings I had?  Did I misunderstand?

Why?

After the questions end, I start berating myself. The thoughts are dark, depressing, and leave me feeling worthless.

The pain increases, the emptiness I feel in my heart grows bigger.  I feel alone.

Yet I am becoming stronger.

I am learning to shut off my inner critic.  I feel my depression ebbing away.

I am letting myself grieve.

Now, will you please pass the tissue?

Snatching a Few Moments With Mom

I put the kids in bed at their normal bedtime.

They cried.

And cried.

Finally stopped.

And I smiled.

Ben came home, opened their door, and woke them up.

They cried.

And cried.

Ben rescued them.

And I blogged.

Ben calmed them down by reading stories, they stole away onto my lap, and I declared, "Bedtime!"

Emily slept.

Andrew cried.

I rescued him.

And blogged.

With him on my lap, touching my face, and giving me lots of snuggles.



I laughed.

And kissed him.

Rocked him.

And smiled.

Sometimes I plan my whole day around bedtime and when the hour finally comes, I sigh with relief. But if it's interrupted by a sad baby, I become grouchy and think unpleasant thoughts. Today I realized I should cherish these one-on-one moments because they don't happen very often. In connection with my recent epiphany, I am choosing to enjoy these times. Even if it does mean the laundry remains on my couch, unfolded.

Becoming the Mother I Want to Be

When I had Andrew, something happened.

I was tired, I was lonely, I was stressed, and I was overwhelmed.  Ben was working, attending school, studying for the MCAT, and trying his best to be there for me and the kids.

My little boy was fussy, very fussy.  He cried and cried, I cried and cried, Emily cried and cried.  I pushed joy away so I could have room for misery.

Emily was growing, maturing, turning into a toddler.  I wasn't ready.  I wanted her to help me, but I didn't want her to be adventurous or seek autonomy.  I wanted--I needed--her to sit down next to me, playing quietly.  Not running from mess to mess, taking advantage of me nursing to get into everything.

I was unrealistic.

I found myself turning into an awful mother. I went from using calm tones to relying on harsh tones; being happy and engaging to being angry and distant; patient to impatient.

My husband's busyness and my loneliness excused me from improving my behaviors.

Until one day I really looked at my daughter.  What I saw was not a little monster trying to ruin my life, but a little girl, a toddler, who was discovering her little world, begging for me to help her.



How I viewed motherhood changed.

In The Family: A Proclamation to the World, the leaders of my church remind mothers (and fathers) that we are to nurture our children.

Nurture: to feed and protect; to support and encourage, as during a period of training or development.  (Source: Dictionary.com.)

I do feed and protect my children every day, but do I support and encourage? More importantly, do I support and encourage my toddler as she discovers her world?

I am not ignorant.


I knew what I could do to temper her melt downs or aide in her autonomy seeking behavior.  That is what my degree is in. Yet I was neglectful and I took the easy way out.

I have had several impressions reminding me to use my education to help me parent.  I ignored them.  Silly, really, considering I am often moaning to Ben that I can't use my degree.

I am thankful that God is patient with me.

I can change and I will change.  These changes will not happen immediately, it will take time for me adjust my behaviors.

I feel powerful, I know that I can do this.

How have you grown/changed as a parent?

This post is (now) part of  "I'm Finding the Bigger Picture" event.  Click on over to see more events!

A Stranger's Kindness

I don't cry very often.  Really, I don't.  Tears might come to my eyes occasionally, but I normally brush them away and continue on with whatever task I am trying to perform.  Something happened yesterday that touched my heart so deeply that I couldn't help but cry.

What was that act? Kindness.  Extraordinary kindness.

Ben and I are in transition.  He has started a new job that has some pretty rocking benefits.  As is custom, we must wait thirty days before these benefits take effect.  We were kicked off our previous insurance a few days before he started the new job.  Yeah, we don't have insurance.

This hasn't been an issue until today.  Rather, a few days ago when Andrew woke up screaming. Every 15-30 minutes. All. Night. Long.

The first night I figured it was my fault.  I had interrupted his sleep to pick Ben up from work.

The second night I thought he might be scared.

The third night I wasn't sure what to think.

And this was our quandary: do we take him in to the doctor? If we had had insurance this would not have been a question.  But, because a doctor's visit would require taking money from our oh-so-tight budget, we had to make a decision.

See the doctor or eat.

OK. Maybe not that drastic, but close.

The threat of repeating the last three nights, and the potential of an ear infection, led us to the doctor's office.

I must say, we are very satisfied with our pediatrician.  He has taken care of our kids--and us--very well.  Ben even shadowed him! We know him and trust him.

The doctor did not find an infection.  He did find a sore, in the back of Andrew's throat, resulting from a virus that he has seen once or twice this year.  The good news: it only lasts about 5 days.  The bad news: it is very painful. The ultra bad news: there is nothing we can do about it.

Needless to say, it was not a good visit.  I could feel our bank account protesting against our hsatiness, "If you had only waited another day, you wouldn't have needed a doctor!"

I was feeling pretty defeated.  I had Andrew dressed and was only waiting for the doctor to dismiss us.  As he finished typing, and opened the door, he said something I did not expect.  He said to Ben, "Don't worry about paying.  Take her [me] out to lunch. She needs it."

The tears surprised me as much as his words.

Kindness.

I hope we can do the same for someone in the future.

P.S. Andrew's sore is much better.  He was able to sleep all night last night!

A Big Slobbery Thank You

It just so happens that I forgot to mention one major culprit in my emotional drama of last week: Miss Flow.  While I am grateful for this physical reminder of my fertility, I can't exactly gush about how she messes up my emotions.  Everything seems much more dramatic when she visits.

I recovered a bit of my spice over the weekend.  Your comments were a gigantic help in reminding me of the support group I have.   As much as days like those suck, it feels less overwhelming when I know that other people can relate.  Reading your comments while drinking Diet Dr. Pepper certainly alleviated much of the sadness I felt.

In case I forget how incredibly lucky I am, let me list a few things that made me smile this weekend.



Watching this little girl canter and twirl around our living room.

Feeling her sweet, slobbery kisses on my cheek.

Smiling as she sings little songs about me, Ben, and her little brother.



Tickling his numerous rolls.

Listening to his little baby noises.

Feeling like the greatest mom in the world as he smiles and laughs when I walk into the room.

Finally, all of you.  Your kind words of support.  Your wise suggestions.  Your digital hugs.  I really am a lucky gal.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A Special Birth Day

We are at the end of Five for Ten.  I have enjoyed this round as much as enjoyed the last round.  I have made many new friends, read many inspiring posts, and cried many times.   Thank you Jen and Sarah for hosting this and for all those who have participated.  It has been a blast! The last topic for this series is "Yes."

I got up, intending to take the test discretely.  The crinkle of the wrapper as I opened it woke Ben.  He knocked on the door and asked me if I was taking it.

I can't hide anything from him.

I took the test and he came in as we waited for the results.  In a few seconds, two lines appeared.

I looked at him, eyes glowing with happiness, and asked him if he was ready.

Nine 1/2 Months Later--Midnight

The contractions were getting stronger.  I squeezed Ben's hand as another contraction started.  He started packing the bag.

Bag in hand, he looked at me and asked, "Are you ready?"

The Next Day, Around 2:00 pm

The midwife checked me again.  "She's crowning.  You can start pushing."

Ben and I looked at each other, eyes blurred with exhaustion, hearts aglow with happy anticipation, the unspoken question hanging in the air,  "Are you ready?"

10 Minutes Afterward

The nurse cleaned the baby while the midwife stitched me up.  Ben alternated between holding my tired hands and staring at our beautiful angel.

When the cleaning was done, the nurse came over.  Holding our squishy faced newborn in her arms, she looked at us and asked, "Are you ready?"

We looked at each other, looked at our baby, and excitedly, emotionally, responded, "Yes!"

**********************

Kristen at Motherese is hosting an on-line book club at the end of this month.  The chosen book is our friend Aidan's rookie novel, Life After Yes.  Having had the opportunity to read it, I am proud to join Kristen in offering a free copy to a lucky ready.  Leave a comment on this post before 6:00 am on Friday, May 21 and a winner will be randomly selected and announced that afternoon.

A Simple Walk

Five for Ten is still going strong!  Click on over to see what all the fuss is about.  The theme for today and tomorrow is "memory."

When we started dating, I didn't think it would last. I was too young, too immature.  You made me believe that we could be something more, something eternal.

After 6 months, we started talking marriage.  With butterflies in my stomach, I allowed the fantasy to ignite.  You held me entranced by the promise of forever, a future that I once thought impossible.

One Sunday, we took a walk.  We went down a street with familiar houses.  There was a particular one for sale, we stopped to grab the flier.  Within minutes we talked about what could be.  A house.  A family.  You.  Me.

I suggested an alternative--you quit the job you hate, go back to school, and we become starving college students just trying to get by.  You wistfully smile and allow yourself to think about that for a minute until reality hits.  You feel trapped by a job.

You gave me a ring with a question.  I answered, without hesitation, "Yes!"

The dream was within reach.

Months later we decided to break up.  You felt the need to embrace a higher calling for two years.  You wanted to give back to God what he gave to you.  You embarked on a mission.  Those two years would transform us--our relationship--into a force so powerful that we only wait 27 days from when you return to get married.

For two years we bickered.  We broke each other's hearts multiple times.  We learned to have faith and to trust.  In God.  In ourselves.  In us.

A culmination of 4 years together and we finally had our forever.  A covenant in a temple is said, our reflection in mirrors is looked at, and tears of joy are shed.

Almost 3 years into marriage and we remember that walk.  We are indeed poor students.  But we aren't starving.  We are full.  With life.  With children.  With each other.

You are pursuing your career of choice, I am living mine.

A simple memory, a fleeting fantasy, that is still unfolding.

Eternity.

To Travel Or Not to Travel

"When I was looking at possible career choices, my wife told me she did not want me to pursue an occupation in sales.  Her father had been a salesperson and had experienced severe stress over his finances for the majority of her life.  With her desire in mind, I was careful in choosing my major. How do you feel about directing your spouse's career path?"  the Professor asked.

I thought about my experience with Ben's career choice.

Ben and I were both in school when we married.  He was just starting and I was almost half way finished.  Because of this unique arrangement, my opinion on Ben's career choice was highly valued.  I had only one  stipulation: he could not choose a career in which he would travel excessively.

It might seem mean or unfair that I was so forceful in my opinion, yet I know how I become when Ben leaves town.  A day or two before his departure, I become moody and unreachable.  I lash out at him for little things.  I am surly and unapproachable.  When he does leave,  it gets worse.  Arguments abound and jealousy ensues.  Our usually agreeable relationship turns into a cesspool of negativity.  Not exactly breeding grounds for a healthy marriage.  So, to ensure that our marriage stay intact, I knew the remedy: a career that would not require traveling.

With this in mind, Ben originally decided to pursue a doctorate in Psychology.  Sure this required a lot of school, but I knew this job would not require too much travel.

A semester into his undergrad, he felt dissatisfied with psychology.  He was unsure what other course to take, so he continued in his chosen path.  That next semester, though, he began looking into other things.  When he started looking into becoming a pilot, I became weary.  He asked my opinion on it and I told him I didn't think it was a good idea.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because, it would require that you be gone frequently.  You know my feelings on that.  You also know how I become when you do leave."

The reminder was enough to help him look elsewhere.

(You might be curious how I will hold up while he is in medical school.  It is different.  Maybe in a future post I will explain why.)

In answer to my professor's question, I feel a career choice is a joint decision. Choosing employment that may leave one or both spouses feeling overwhelmed is not a good idea.  In the end, employment is something the whole family will work at together.

How would you have responded to the question?

What's Up With the Balance?

After reading all of your responses to my balance question, I decided to try various suggestions and see what works for me.

I can tell you one thing: mornings do not work.  At least not yet.  My sweet little boy does not cooperate with my well intended plans.  He prefers to wake up every hour or so from midnight until 7 am.  Apparently he is trying to tell me that I must either a) go to bed earlier or b) sleep in later.  Going to bed early is a great idea; however, dear husband does not come home until late.  If I want a few moments of alone time with Ben, I must give up something else.  I choose to give up and early bed time.  A small sacrifice, really.

At this point in my little guy's life, it is silly to expect so much from myself.   He and I are still figuring each other out.  So, I am no longer sticking to the blogging while napping thing.  At least not exclusively.  Let's face it--naps are not as scheduled as they once were.  Giving myself little "bloggy breaks" every now and then are okay.  As many of you mentioned, it's okay for kids to learn to entertain themselves.

As for being present?  I am going to quote from an e-mail my dear friend sent me.

"Somehow, we've come to believe that we should enjoy every moment of parenting. A lot of parenting - even cute cuddly babies or adorable toddlers SUCKS. It's grunt work. It's exhausting. It's physical. It's unending. IT'S WORK.

It doesn't mean you don't love your babies with every breath in your body. It's just that it's difficult to DO it - especially when you don't get a lot of relief - day in and day out."

Like most people, I put a lot of pressure on myself.  I expect to be the perfect parent, housekeeper, wife, friend, and woman.  Deep down I know this is unrealistic and even maniacal, yet those desires remain.  As I fail and fail pieces of my self-worth break off and shatter.  It seems hopeless,  because it is.

I have a husband who is in school.  He is gone frequently.  And, this will not change.  It will most likely get harder before it gets easier.  The high expectations I have set for myself are impossible.

To break free from this prison of hopeless expectations, I am learning to listen to those promptings that can help guide my actions.  Naturally, this is a tough thing.  It requires that I let go of my pride and humbly accept the help that is being offered from those around me.   "Those" meaning my husband, my friends, the Lord, and all of you.

Today was a rough day.  Little sleep, early morning appointments, and refused naps lowered my spirit.  But, in between the hard parts, there were tender mercies.  A random giggle from Andrew, a sweet kiss from Emily, a thoughtful call from Ben, and some appreciated e-mails added together to remind me that the tense moments are generally small and easily forgotten when I focus on how blessed I really am.

My Dreams Are Usually Not Tools of Revelation, But Sometimes They Are

After a rough day, I finally headed off to bed.  The dreams eagerly entered my mind, taking me away from reality.  They were fun.  At first.  Then they gradually turned into a haunting scene ripped from the headlines.

I head out on an overnight trip with Ben.  We leave Andrew and Emily in the van and take the car.  We don't think anything of it until we come back.

When we arrive, Emily is gone and Andrew is sleeping.  Ben is slightly worried that we don't see Emily, but I tell him to not worry about it.  Besides, I am too happy from our trip to worry.  I take Andrew out.  He's a  little cold, but okay.  I finally begin looking for Emily.

A sweet lady from our congregation comes out onto her porch and tells us that she has Emily.  "Don't worry! I saw her and brought her inside.  She is such a doll!"

I finally wake myself up.  I lie in bed with my heart pounding.  I go check on Emily.  She's sleeping in one of her many wild positions.  I smile through the hurt.  I grab Andrew from his crib and snuggle his little body.  Breathing in his sweetness and innocence.  I am angry with myself.  How could I do that to my children in my dream?  It is horrible!  Abandonment.  Carelessness.  Selfishness.  Abuse.  Things I only read about.  And I played them out in my dreams.

After realizing that sleep has fled, I go and get a drink.  I try to calm my rapidly beating heart.  I just can't get those horrible images and feelings out of my mind.

I think about what this dream could mean.  I rarely analyze my dreams,  but my mind would not rest until I looked at it from every angle.  After a few minutes, the meaning becomes clear: I am too connected to the internet.  While I don't literally abandon my children,  my thoughts are far from them.  I often put the computer with the e-mails, new posts, and tweets before my kids' needs.

I think about how I can slow down and really engage with my children.  The brainstorming helps to soothe my anxiety.  It is still late, but I know sleep is far from my grasp.  So, I wake up Ben. With a shaky voice, I tell him fragments of my dream.  He wraps me in his arms and I finally drift off into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning was Friday.  I decided to reset my priorities. I wrote a quick post and turned off the computer.  That was the start of my blog break.  Or, as Kristen and Becca put it, my digital diet.  The break gave me the chance to get on the floor and play with my babies.  I tickled, they giggled; I read, they listened; I sang, they danced.  They were moments that are forever etched into my mind.  Rather than losing myself in the computer while they napped, I cleaned.  Our house was tidy, we were all happy.

At night time, I reviewed different ways to effectively balance.

Writing is something that I can't avoid.  It provides relief and comfort from the daily stresses of parenting;  thus, I need it to relax me when the kids are sleeping.

At the same time,  reading each of your blogs infuses my soul with pieces of infinite wisdom.  Your inspiring posts encourage me to become a better person;  therefore, I need these interactions as well.

I could get up before the kids are awake in the morning.  Of course, that would mean waking up early.  Something I try to avoid.  Hey, my little guy doesn't sleep through the night yet!

I could try using nap times to clean.  That way, when the evening comes, I can enjoy blogging and writing without too much angst.  I don't have to worry about paying attention to my husband because he's not here.  Ha!  Takes care of that guilt.

I have yet to receive a striking revelation. One thing is certain: I cannot let that dream become a reality.  Just thinking about it makes me want to cry.  And vomit.  It was too powerful to ignore.

Do you have any tips/advice on how to achieve a good balance in your life?  Please share.  I need it.

I Can Find Alone Time!

I think that cliff hanger was pretty awesome.

In yesterday's post, Wolf presented three things (sanity networking, furs for perfumes, and thanks for angels) to help all of us find some alone time.  With this half, she will provide us with more specifics.

How to get a moment alone (and what to do with it once you get it) Part 2

Network

Without question, it’s easier to build a network when your children hit preschool or elementary school. You have a built-in community with whom you share common ground. You can help each other in a pinch, including finding a way to get an hour or two to yourself. If your children are younger, you may be able to build your network from mothers you meet on the local playground, after church or synagogue services, or by other means.

• If you don’t have a network, start building one. It won’t happen overnight. We’re talking about getting to know others who will potentially care for your children.


• Is there someone you trust to spend an hour or two with your child? Someone from church, for example? Or a neighbor you’ve gotten to know over the past several years?


• Is it possible to ask that person to stay during naptime – perhaps for an hour? Make it clear that you cannot afford a babysitter at this time, but you would be more than happy to reciprocate.


• Suggest that you spend some time together first. Invite her (and her child or children) to your place – for coffee or tea. Get to know each other and see how it feels.


• The act of sharing some adult time with another parent in your situation will be helpful. You won’t feel so isolated. And then give it a try – cell phone numbers exchanged – and don’t go very far the first time if you prefer. Maybe for a walk in the neighborhood. And eventually, an hour or two for yourself, every other week – or whatever works for you.


• Tap into your blogging community. What other mothers may live near you, or have a sister or cousin or friend who’s in the same boat, who may live in your area?

Is it easy?

No, but it is workable. Am I a trained life coach, psychologist, or educator? Nope. One weary, single mom, offering suggestions from years of experience.

Exchange of services, including for babysitting

Need a way to find a babysitter that won’t cost $10 to $15 / hour? Not sure where to start?

• Try your clergy, your neighbor, your alumni association, a local college. Well, you’re thinking, there’s no trading off kids in that scenario. True enough, but you could trade services.


• Talk to people when you’re out. Be friendly. In line at Starbucks or Caribou. At the library. In the pediatrician’s office. You never know when you might strike up a conversation with someone who can help, and whom you can help.

Are there skills you might trade with a college or graduate student? Absolutely! Perhaps it’s proofing, editing, Spanish tutoring, web site design suggestions. Believe me – you have skills, and they have value. Exchange them for something of value to yourself. Something like a little “me” time that will keep you healthy and sane.

Angels

There really have been angels on my life and the lives of my children. There is a remarkable woman in my neighborhood, a piano teacher, who gives lessons to my younger son. Free of charge. She also made arrangements for us to get a piano at no cost. We didn’t have one, and I certainly couldn’t afford it.

This wonderful individual has been teaching my teenager for 18 months. He adores her; she adores him. She is an angel to both of us, and in his own way, he is an angel for her. Unlike the little ones she’s used to, he wants to be there. He practices for hours each day, has begun composing, and has made remarkable progress in a very short time. She pushes him – hard – and surely she senses that she is influencing his future. Tremendously.

Angels are real. We are each other’s angels.

So what can you do with an hour or two and no money?

Think you can’t renew with an hour or two?

• Even an hour is enough to browse a local bookstore, sit and read (without buying), watch people, write, or simply wander the aisles and poke around whatever is of interest.


• That same amount of time would permit you go to a nearby department store and meander. Try the perfumes. Chat with strangers. Have your make-up done for fun. (It’s free.)


• Or, talk to no one. Sit on a bench with a thermos of coffee you bring from home, and watch the world go by. No one is asking anything of you. (And remember to leave the credit card or check book at home – if I can do it – you can do it!)


• No mall nearby? Take your thermos and a paperback and go. Walk to a nearby park. Sit, sip, watch, read. Breathe. Be part of the world in the most unobtrusive way. Free of charge, while you charge your own battery.


• Perhaps you enjoy massage, but you can’t afford it. Furs for perfume. Perhaps you try a masseuse at a local hairdresser who might exchange a 30-minute session for practice with English as a second language. Or learning to crochet, or bake. Get creative. Trade. Ask.

Another thought? I used to be an avid quilter. I find it relaxing – especially the design and piecing of the top. I always quilted in small bits, and by hand rather than machine. That made my sewing portable, and also, when we use our hands, we seem to naturally unwind.

If you can use your hands to make something, consider it. Knit. Embroider. Knead bread. Try origami. Fold forms from paper and make a mobile for your babies!

A final word on how you spend your time

Even now, with teenagers, I’m a single mom with no “backup.” It’s not as crazy as it was when they were little; it’s crazy differently. I feel like I’m always on duty, or at the very least, on call. But over the past few years, I’ve slowly taken back chunks of time for myself. Probably not enough, or often enough, but I’m doing it. It’s good for my kids, and it’s good for me.

Even if all I do with that time is sit in a bookstore and watch, and write – I’m close enough to be accessible, I’m less isolated because I’m around people and movement – and that is the stuff that nourishes us as people, and fuels us as writers.

Last resort? Host a Latvian. Maybe you’ll find one who can babysit! And yes, hungry foreign students certainly add to the food bill, but the laughter alone is worth its weight in gold. Or rather, dzintars – and the irony in that? It is precious currency indeed, and it means Amber.

******

Wolf, I am deeply grateful for this thoughtful--and thought provoking--guest post/extensive comment.

I know that I have many angels surrounding me.  Many friends who would be willing to step in and give me a break.  But, I usually hold back because I don't want to be a burden.  With these ideas, though, I feel a surge in confidence.  I like bartering.  Both sides win.

Alone Time? Me? No Way!!

A few weeks ago I was feeling down.  It had been one of those mornings.  I was physically and spiritually worn out.  Wolf, in her peculiar way of knowing my moods, e-mailed me and asked me how I was doing.  She also suggested that I click over to her blog.  I did and read a thought-provoking piece entitled Do you know your body's rhythms? While reading, I puzzled over how Wolf knew what I needed to hear that morning.  I also thought about how her post, though fabulous, could not apply to me.  I don't have the time to figure out my body's rhythms.

Since I was feeling whiny, I asked Wolf how I can follow her advice.  She, in her usual sage manner, wrote back with an amazing comment.  Reading her words inspired me.  I instantly e-mailed her and asked if I could re-post her comment on my blog.  She not only said yes, but sent it to me as a whole new post.  Yes, she is incredible.

For any woman/man who is feeling tired, worn out, and just plumb tuckered, Wolf has provided us with an amazing array of remedies.  Especially for those of us who are short on cash.

In order to give her post all the attention it deserves, I am breaking it up into 2 different segments.  Think of it like a cliff hanger. I love a book with good cliff hangers.

Without further ado, please welcome Wolf of Big Little Wolf's Daily Plate of Crazy.

How to get a moment alone (and what to do with it once you get it) Part 1

Love your family, but enough is enough?

Losing your sanity? Don’t want to admit it? Sorry. I have no 12-step program, no quick fix, and not even a chocolate giveaway to take your mind off things. But I will tell you you’re in good company. The reality for most mothers, unless you have help – and I mean real help – there is never enough of you to go around. It’s true for stay-at-home-moms, for work-outside-the-home moms, for do-it-all-moms, and all the other variations of motherhood whose classifications don’t matter whatsoever.

And if your budget looks anything like mine (the UnBudget), a trip to the day spa (with pricey sitter at home) just isn’t in the cards.

Maybe you’re married and the husband works extra hours, or goes to school at night. Maybe you’re a single mom with little to no time off (for misbehavior). Whatever the scenario, don’t feel guilty for wanting a break. You need one. Consider it a sign of mental health.

But what do you do when you’re constrained by lack of money or help? No bucks for a sitter. No family to assist. Now what? Run away from home? Most of us have considered it at one time or another. But shhhhhh. Don’t admit it to the kids.

Sanity networking, furs for perfumes, and thanks for the angels

Say what? Yep. I believe in sanity networking, furs for perfumes, and angels, as follows:

• Network (the “it takes a village” concept)


• Exchange of services (good old fashioned barter)


• Angels (they’re everywhere, and they look like us)

A support network is essential. If you’ve lost yours following a relocation or divorce, do whatever you can to rebuild. (Some ideas follow.) Simply put - you need people to help give you relief. A network of trusted “villagers” – other parents, teachers, students, neighbors.

Remember barter? You give me this, I’ll give you that? According to some sources, barter systems date back to 6,000 BC. Long before there was money, goods and services were exchanged. My furs for your perfume. And at an even more basic level – your hunting and fishing for my giving birth (not to mention, fabulous cave painting). Believe me, you’ve got skills that someone can use, and they’ve got skills that you can use. Barter!

As for angels, I’m not channeling Travolta in wings, nor the Sistine Chapel. Not even the backers of Broadway musicals. I’m talking about everyday people who are kind and give, for no reason except that it feels good, it’s helpful, and they can. The fact is – we all can. We can be angels for each other, perhaps by listening when someone needs an ear, or by helping a stranger who is lost. Perhaps in that “exchange of services” way I just mentioned.

I hope I’ve been an angel in my own way, and I’ve certainly run into my share in recent years. Angels are not defined by age or gender, by religion or even spirituality. They simply understand that we are a human community. And when they see someone who needs help, if they can, they help.

Haven’t you been an angel? I’m guessing the answer is yes, if you think about it. And if you’ve been on the receiving end, you pass it along when you are able.

Specifics

Just so you know where I fit in this picture (yes, this is the part where I establish my credentials), I am the mother of two teen sons, now 18 and 17. I was technically married for many years. My (then) husband traveled, a great deal, and we had no family in the area. I worked a full-time job (close to home), then a full-time job from a home office while being “full-time mom” to my boys. Helping other mothers with pickups and free time is the stuff that gets you through. I was often the “helper,” for many years.

Following divorce, layoff, and a move, my former network fell apart. Things got challenging very quickly, and frankly, I was in the robotic zone for months (years?) as I scrapped for project and freelance clients, raised my kids, and tried to keep myself semi-sane and semi-healthy. Somehow, I thought I ought to be able to do it all - if I just tried hard enough. Listen up, please. It’s not possible. No one can do it all alone. Furthermore, I don’t believe we are meant to. And nor is it the best thing for our kids.