A Prayer, Some Presents, and Wonderful People

My heart is swelling with gratitude today and I thought I'd share why.

Gratefulness #1


Our food budget has been drastically cut.  This is cool except for one thing--the Queen of picky, a.k.a Emily does not eat anything I set before her.  As I knew I wouldn't be able to buy some of those luxuries--chicken nuggets and hot dogs--to tempt her, I had to come up with a new plan.  So I prayed.  Miraculously enough, she has eaten almost everything I have served her.

I don't usually share these types of stories with people because I feel very strongly about my faith and don't want it to be mocked; however, this experience, so simple and so powerful, has had a healing effect on my faith--which has been severely tested this year.  I needed this reminder that my prayers are answered, even if the content sometimes seems trivial.

Gratefulness #2

The holiday spirit has been seriously lacking over here.  Based on the note above, I'm sure you can deduce why.  Something, or rather someone, has changed that.

A certain person (or persons) has marked our family out for the 12 days of Christmas.  For the past week, he has left gifts on our doorstep, knocked, and ran away before we could thank him.  These gifts aren't small, either, they are big and expensive.  And very thoughtful.

Exhibit A



If you can't tell by this crude photograph, that's a poinsettia.  A large poinsettia.  I mean, we don't have anything large enough, besides our kitchen table, on which to place this beautiful plant.   But that's not the point.  The point is this gift is huge!  And all the other gifts have been equally as tremendous.  I will admit that this very caring gesture has brought tears to my eyes on many occasions this week.  It has also reminded me of the true meaning behind Christmas: the spirit of giving.

Gratefulness #3

I hope this doesn't sound cheesy, but I am feeling very blessed by all of you who visit this place and read my words.  As silly as they can be at times.  I was reminded of all your incredible natures when reading through the thoughtful comments on my most recent post.  Depression is a tricky topic to discuss and I've shared some pretty personal experiences.  You have proved my faithfulness in your trust by validating my need to share and offering hands of support.

One thing I can count on is your forgiveness and understanding when it takes weeks to respond to your lovely comments.  Thank you for making this a place of refuge; that's what I need at this point in my life.

Top 4 Reasons I Have Been Absent

1.  Husband is finishing his secondary applications for medical school.

2.  Andrew has been sick.

3.   My sister is visiting.

4.  Ben and I celebrated our anniversary this week.

Even though these are great reasons, blogging is such an important part of my day that neglecting it is taking a toll on my sanity.  Or maybe that just comes with being a mother.

Friday Night Awesomeness

On Friday, Ben and I decided to visit the great city north of us so we could dine at our favorite restaurant, Pei Wei, and walk around Temple Square.  Realizing that we were heading to the city, I called a blog friend and asked if she would like to meet, in real life, that night.  She agreed (because I wouldn't take no for an answer) and oh-my-goodness, it was fun.

Firstly, not only are her kids adorable, but she is extra gorgeous!





Secondly, our kids played very well.



Thirdly, our husbands got along.  Big bonus.

Fourthly, we chatted about everything.   I think I've found a lifelong friend, if she'll accept. (Pretty please!?)



I will certainly be seeing her again.

Thanks, Kristen, for letting us crash your Friday night party!

Go visit Kristen at Enjoying Every Moment.  You will not be disappointed.

I Think I'm In Love (Part One)

I have three words for you: Casual Blogger Conference.

I also have four words for you: I broke my stinking camera a few days before I went.  Okay, that's like 11 words,  but I never boast of my math skills.  I'm lucky if I can count to three on a normal day.  You know,  one.....two.....geee! (That's how Emily counts.  She is an excellent teacher.)

Anyway.  I went to the conference unsure of how things would go.  I mean, I was meeting famous people! Without getting my hair cut! Jenna, thankfully, did not mention my crazy locks and even tolerated my awkwardness!  I know, cool, right?

The ever popular and quite famous MommyJ and Inkmom made me feel super special by recognizing me! And their babies were cute enough to eat.  For real.

While we were chatting,  Serene came over to share in the love.  Oh. My. Word.  That lady is fabulous.  She is like my soul sister.  She also introduced me to Tauna and Linda.  I liked them because they ogled my baby the next day.  Anyone who ogles my baby is a keeper.

Our lovely conversation abruptly ended when we saw Charlotte.  Duh duh duh.  I practically ran over there because she is that amazing.  I would feel comfortable calling texting her at anytime.  Plus,  she is me, fast forward like ten years.

Rachel, who convinced me to attend the Girl's Night Out, is the sweetest lady.  She let me sit next to her and even volunteered to drive on Saturday when we were all hungry.

While sitting down for a few minutes,  Jaime joined us at our table.  She and I are kindred souls, I mean we could talk about Alaska forever!

The Damsel gave me a gigantic hug when she recognized me.  She is so inviting and sweet, I feel very lucky to have met her.

A big bonus was meeting Mombabe, Motherboard, and Kristina.  After meeting these three, I was dizzy from their famous fumes.

And this was only one night.  I am feeling happily tired just thinking about it all.  Meeting all these ladies felt like meeting old friends.  Our conversations were never dry because we related so well with each other.

(Almost) Wordless Monday

I am full from the Conference.  My brain is whirring and can't seem to focus on one thing.   BUT, I have visual proof that I went.



I had a blast.  Whew.  I am still tired from it all.

Gosh, I love you all!

In Case You Don't Recognize Me, I'll Be Wearing Purple

This weekend is the big Casual Blogger Conference.  Since it is so close to where we live, my husband wouldn't let me pass it up.  So I will be joining hundreds (thousands?) of ladies and men in listening to some awesome speakers like DeNae Handy, Courtney Kendrick, and Sue Marchant.  It's even better that I actually know these ladies.

I know that hundreds of people will be fighting to meet me,  so I decided to introduce myself.  Virtually.

[caption id="attachment_679" align="aligncenter" width="360" caption="Me and my super cute baby and cool brother."][/caption]

Hi, I'm Amber.  Thanks to a recent cold,  my voice now sounds like a deeper version of Phoebe's sexy voice on friends.  I have dark blond hair and a smile that is permanently etched on my face (i.e. I have premature wrinkles).  Miss Flow's recent visit left a few unwanted visitors on my face that I hope will disappear before the conference.  If they don't,  well,  they don't.  I am somewhere between small and average in waist size; although, this is covered up by healthy servings in the rear and chest area.

When I'm nervous, I talk extra fast, giggle extra hard, and say extra embarrassing things.  I also blush easily.  If you still can't recognize me,  look for the lady with the extra red face.

I have an above average case of momnesia.  In mid sentence I may stop, look around with a confused expression, and start talking about something entirely unrelated.  Conversations may be choppy or silly but I do have something up my sleeve: I will be holding a cute baby.  Theoretically,  this provides you an easy out in any awkward or confusing conversations we might have.  I can't guarantee it, but it's worth a try.

[caption id="attachment_680" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="He is much cuter in person. Go ahead, give his cheeks a virtual squeeze."][/caption]

Since this is a special occasion,  I might actually do my hair.  I can't make promises but I think my blow dryer and straightener will see the outside of the cupboard more this weekend than they have since my husband  bought them for me.   I may even wear earrings, makeup, and some shirts that do not have stains on them.   Since this may be pushing it, I am once again relying on Andrew's extra cuteness to save me.  Heck,  maybe he will share some of his cuteness  with me.

There you have it.  See you at CBC '10!!

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.

That Was Love

I woke up to the familiar pain in my abdomen, giving it a perfunctory moment of my limited time.  I started getting ready with the tiny hope that I wouldn't be giving the thought of my breakfast to the pregnancy gods that morning.  Alas, it was not to be.  After two or three vomiting sessions, I finally succumbed to the inevitable: A hurried pony tail, a Pop Tart for the road, and a skirt that wouldn't bother my stomach.

The day went as usual.  Classes, homework, and the omnipresent nausea interrupting all coherent thoughts.

At 4, Ben and I were ready to go home.  We walked hand in hand discussing the day.   When we were halfway home, the abdominal pain became unbearable.  Clutching my stomach, I gasped and told Ben I had to sit down.   He worriedly looked at me.  He told me to stay put while he ran home to fetch the car.  It only took him a few minutes, but time seemed to freeze as the pain threatened to consume my whole body.

Immediately upon our return home, I went to bed.  I tried everything: deep breathing, hypnosis relaxation, and prayer but the pain remained.  Finally, around 11, Ben came in to the room to find me in the fetal position sobbing uncontrollably..

He rushed me to the hospital.

Over the next 15 hours, the doctors administered myriad tests on my aching body.   After an MRI, they finally found the culprit: appendicitis.  Within 20 minutes, I was being prepped for surgery.

The whirlwind of activity did not stop my dutiful husband from holding my hand.  He offered comforting words and many prayers.  If it weren't for him, I would have been paralyzed by fear.

During the few moments before surgery, the doctors had to ask me the usual questions: What should we do if you go into labor? Would you like us to do everything to save the baby?

This question brought fear and tears.  I told them that if that did happen, they were to do everything for my little Emily.

I spent a couple of days in the hospital recovering.  An appendectomy while 6 months pregnant is not the easiest thing to recover from.  Still, I was grateful that my little baby was safely ensconced inside my womb.

Eventually the pain subsided and the memory of the event faded.  The scar, though, will never fully disappear.

When I think about what I have sacrificed for my little Emily, I think about my appendectomy.  I not only gave my body for her, I gave my appendix (even if an appendix is virtually useless).

I have never looked at myself as being courageous during this whole experience.  Yet, courage was evident--it took courage go to the ER, it took courage to tell the doctors to save my baby if she decided to come early, and it took courage to go home.

I have learned many lessons from that day, but one of the most important is that no sacrifice goes unanswered.  And this little girl was worth the indescribable pain.



This post is in connection with Momalom's Five for Ten event.  Click over to see all other entries for "courage."

Dear 23-Year-Old Self,

Yes, I am finally back on-line.  It will take me forever to get caught up but so life goes.  While disconnected, I was thinking about this blog and realized I did not write myself a birthday letter; thus, this post's inception.

Remember those goals you wrote when you were 12?  The sheet was short and simple--something like this (in no particular order).

• Marry a worthy returned missionary in the temple.


• Graduate from college.


• Become a mom.

The goal you hoped most to achieve was motherhood.  You had no idea when that would come to pass and marriage seemed like a fleeting fancy, something that happened to those who were beautiful and witty, characteristics you (falsely) believed you lacked.

Yet, here you are at 23.  You have achieved those goals.  You are a college graduate--the first in your immediate family. You have married an incredible man who is everything you hoped he would be and more.  You have two beautiful children that bring unsolicited smiles frequently.

Motherhood was harder than you expected.  With school, you knew what was needed to receive that "A."  With parenting, there is no syllabus with its accompanying assignment sheet.  You can't check Blackboard for your grades.  There is no professor to explain difficult concepts.  So, the next time you envision that imaginary audience who groans and shakes their heads at your mistakes, remember that there is no imaginary audience.  When you make a mistake, it is okay.  Grow from your mistakes, don't dwell on them.  When you do have a question, ask your friends.  You are surrounded by experienced parents who would not think you are a failure for asking.

Please forsake those insecurities that tie you down.  You are not the awkward teenager who once lived in her older sister's shadow.  You are beautiful, vivacious, and benevolent.  You have a husband who would slay dragons for you.  You have a daughter and son who instantly forgive your shortcomings.  You have accomplished all the goals you once set for yourself.

People do not look down on you because of your choice to become a stay-at-home mom.  Stop using your education as a snobby reminder that you could have done more with your life.  This is your dream!  Even if someone thinks less of you, it is your choice to believe it or ignore it.   Instead of "if onlys" become the best mom you can possibly be.

Replace your doubt with trust.  You know what is best for you and your family.

Above all, trust your husband.  Trust your friends.  Trust your parents.  Trust your Savior.  Embrace forgiveness--of others and of self.  Hold fast to the truth that has constantly guided you.

Love always,

Me

Guest Post: Jen

I am happy to host Jen of Momalom today! I remember when I first met her (and her sister).  Another blog I follow mentioned these two and I clicked over.  It was blog love at first site.  Since then I have been a loyal follower and can happily call these two my friends.  Please enjoy Jen's words here and hop on over to her blog for more fun!

Perfection in Three

By Jen

When I was pregnant with my first baby, the excitement I felt from others—friends, family, strangers––was palpable. People told me I was in for “the adventure of a lifetime,” that my life “would never be the same again,” that I should get as much of my life in order as possible, hinting that “once the baby comes” there wouldn’t be much time for anything else. People asked how I was feeling, if I knew if I was having a boy or a girl, if I’d be moving out of my small apartment, how my mother had reacted to the news of a second grandchild. They asked if I’d keep working, if I was eating tuna, if I had bought a crib yet. I was bombarded with personal questions, received loads of unsolicited opinions and advice and was left feeling like finally I was going to belong to a club worth its salt.

When I was pregnant with my second baby—only eight months after my son was born—I was greeted with (now) amusing reactions such as, “You know how this happens, right?” and “Well, YOU didn’t waste any time!” I was asked again “Is it a boy or a girl?” And was met with absolute approval upon declaring that, indeed, it was a girl. (Our first was a son.) I was assured that my partner and I were on our way to creating the perfect family. Two parents. A son. A daughter. (Even in the correct order––an older brother being the guiding light of his younger sister.) There were fewer questions overall, and a lot less advice given. People, for the most part, expressed general happiness for me and my soon-to-be-perfect family.

When I was pregnant with my third baby, and toting around two children already, the oldest of whom was just barely 4, I often was met with a blank stare, even a look of pure befuddlement. Implied: Why would you have another baby? Clearly you already are overwhelmed. You knew you’d likely have “morning sickness” that lasts for months and sends you to the hospital. Why subject yourself—and your family—to such misery? Don’t you know you have arrived? You already have the “perfect family.” More than one person actually asked if I had considered getting a dog instead of having another baby.

It’s true. That third time around, I already was busy with two young children. I “looked” pregnant early on, and I was sicker than I had been in either of my previous two pregnancies. I also was exhausted enough from life in general not to be able to react emotionally to such ridiculous judgments. I let them slide off of me simply because my energies were needed elsewhere. But, here’s what I would have said: I wanted this baby. Our “perfect” is not neat. It’s not orderly. It’s not organized. A boy and a girl are not enough. Almost immediately after I gave birth to my second child I knew I wanted another. My family wasn’t yet complete. THIS baby will complete our family. I knew that in my gut. In my psyche. In my womb.

And so we had another. And now. Now I look into the dark eyes of my baby girl, who is really no longer a baby but will always be the baby of our family, and I can barely remember our life without her presence, her gestation, without the very idea of her. She always has been a part of us. And now, she is with us. And we ARE perfect. And even though I allow myself to wonder sometimes about what it would be like to have another baby, a fourth, I know that the family I have is truly complete now. A family that is the ideal size for me. For all of us. Two parents. Three kids. Just as it was meant to be.

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.

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.

Guest Post: Natalie

I am so happy to welcome Natalie from boingerhead.


I found Natalie months ago and have been hooked since then.  She writes about her children, her job, and social issues with wisdom and wit.  I will laugh my butt off one day and ponder her powerful words for hours on end the next day.  She provides a great balance between light and deep posts.

I know you will enjoy this thought-provoking piece (and hilarious cartoon) as much as I did (do).

*********

being the change

By: Natalie

I once told my mother that my goal as a mother was to give my children better than I'd had. She didn't speak to me for a month.

I haven't had a good chance to share my Golden Rule of Parenting: When in doubt, do unto your children as you would have foster parents do. It can be a life-saving mantra to repeat during critical situations or an ego-saving one during emotionally charged situations. The ego and life being that of the child, by the way.

Scene: After I spend an hour trying to motivate six people to get out the door, Hippie Child says she is ready to go Downtown. She is wearing orange and black striped arm warmers, a red hoodie tank top with a gigantic monkey on it, blue leggings, no socks, and sparkly sketchers a size too large. Her hair was in a half ponytail, half dred thing. It is December; it is bitterly cold.

WW[iw]FPWD? What Would [I wish] Foster Parents Would Do?

Scene: The twins are up all night after pooping an array of colors Crayola would envy, and one of then jack-knifes back in to my face. I am sure my nose and glasses are broken. The little imp turns and gives me a huge smile as if to say, "wasn't that the best ever? Let's do it again!"

WW[iw]FPWD?

Scene: I discover a brand new box of confectioner's sugar, mostly empty, in the back of the someone's closet after a slumber party. Also missing: my ability to not throw up at the thought of eating an entire box of confectioner's sugar.

Why WW[iw]FPWD?

My contention is that parenting comes in fractions. There is the parent I thought I would be before I became a mother, and then there is the parent I actually am. Half again is the parenting style I developed after I had a second child and the parenting style I've settled into after the twins. Half again is the parenting decisions that keep me up at night. It's crazy.

Sometimes I have to stop myself and consider - what would I wish someone else would do in my shoes, with my child, in this situation? Not just a stranger in their lives for a moment, but someone other than me or their dad tasked with shaping and molding them into a productive, happy citizen of the world?

Why do I need an acronym to be a better parent? Shouldn't just looking at the faces of my angels be enough to inspire me to Donna Reed levels of perfection? The truth is that sometimes that's just not enough. Sometimes, I need a little more than that. Sometimes I need my husband to check me or to push me, and sometimes I need to resort to making up ridiculous acronyms in my head just so I can sleep at night over the decisions I have made.

Scene: Full-Disclosure Child is watching me make cereal for the babies. I added a little formula and a little cinnamon to the mixed oats with banana, and she said something I will never forget. "When I grow up and have babies, that's just how I am going to make their cereal."

My children, and my children's friends, are learning from all of the adults around them. The words that come out of my mouth influence these children in ways I can't think of; the choices I make impact their lives on every level. The truth is, it doesn't really matter what tools I use to be a better mother. The point is that I am trying to be a better mother all the time.

What Would I wish Foster Parents Would Do?

If it came to pass that someone other than myself was raising my children, I would want that person to always put the emotional and mental development of my children before what is convenient and popular. If the Hippie wants to walk around like a regurgitated 80's mallrat, well that's yearbook gold right there. If I need to put the babies in their cribs to cry while I stick my head in the freezer for a couple minutes, their little psyches can take it. Perhaps I did throw up in my mouth at the thought of someone eating a box of confectioner's sugar, but the stomachache they surely must have had after that is better punishment than any lecture I could give about honesty, waste, and drawing ants into my house.

It all comes back to giving our kids as good as or better than we got from our parents. When I made that comment to my mother, I didn't mean to imply that she hadn't done well as a mother. Quite the contrary. I simply meant that it was my mission to take all the good she had done and keep it going. She put her health and any kind of social life aside to give me and my sisters all the material things kids growing up in the 80's and 90's could want.

But, my mom also worked midnights because it meant more money and slept through a lot of my adolescence. I don't fault her for that decision because she was doing what we all do on some level: using her motherhood to make up for a lack she experienced in her childhood. That was all I meant by my comment. It's my job as a mom to do better for my kids than I had. I missed my mom; in lieu of pricy toys and gadgets, I shower my kids with as much individual attention as they or I can stand.

Scene: I am curled up on the couch experiencing remorse from eating fish sticks. The Hippie comes up and spreads a blanket over me. She sets a glass of water beside me. Her brother brings me a chocolate heart he had been saving and, even more touching, relinquishes control of the remote.

WW[iw]FPWD?

I say, "I am the luckiest mom in the world to have two great kids like you."

They say, "Yep, you sure are!" before scampering back to their regularly scheduled programming.

10 Second Post

Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for your advice.   I read each and every comment to Ben.

Thank you so much for praising Ben.  Like any person, he needs to hear that from time to time from someone besides me.

Thank you so much for telling me about your ingredients in your guilt sandwiches.

Thank you for being patient with me.

Since this is another busy week, a few friends agreed to save me by guest posting.  I hope you are excited!

Shoot. My 10 seconds are up.

To show you my gratitude I am relieving you of your comment responsibilities.  Go ahead and let out a sigh.  Sometimes it's nice to have a break, huh?

Love,

Amber

Guest Post: Linda

As part of Amy's Neighbor series, I am so grateful to welcome Linda of Barmitzvahzilla.  I am thrilled that I found her blog months ago.  She shares her wit in each post as she describes situations within--and without--her family.  Her posts never fail to elicit a smile.

While I truly enjoy reading her posts, I am also sincerely grateful for the wisdom she sends my way in her comments.  I feel honored to host her words here today.

The Pint-Sized Tyrant

By Linda Pressman

My husband and I knew we were in trouble. We had just changed our hotel reservation for our vacation last August. He was fed up with going to the same California city over and over again. Why couldn’t we just break free? Why did we always have to answer to her?

I was worried though. I said, "Well, we'd better ask her in the morning. We'll see if she'll go for it."

He gave me a look. He said, "She's nine-years-old. She'll just have to get used to it."

And I thought, Oh yeah. She's nine.

How did I end up with a child who appears to be a child in all things except for her indomitable will? A child in size only, she is a fully-formed human being of such concentrated purpose that nothing can ever deter her from goals in any way, and, in this case, from her vacation goals: in December we will go on a vacation to the same tired hotel we always go to in Tucson, and in August we will go on a vacation to Oceanside, California. This year she sat me down at the computer until I found a hotel in Oceanside identical to the one in Tucson, and then kept me on task until I booked it.

No matter how bored we are once we’re there, she is excited and thrilled every second. She unpacks completely. She sets up her toys on the desk in her room of the two-room suite. She arranges all of her stuffed animals on the bed. She’s different than she is at home - she’s neat. If it's the December trip and we've taken Hanukkah on the road, she's ready with everything: the menorah, the candles, the lighter, she's even organized gifts with labels for each day.

Every morning of every trip she is up at the crack of dawn ready to go eat the free breakfast that the hotel provides with her dad and brother. It's only served till 9:30 AM so she really has to crack the whip to get Dad out of bed. Since the rest of us tend towards a type of laziness and lethargy, she follows us around with the laptop or the newspaper until we look up movie times, then she lassos us into the car to drive to see them. She is a whirlwind of activity and sheer will born into a family who would easily sleep away their vacation.

My daughter, the Pint-Sized Tyrant. She’ll make something of us yet.

Manna from Heaven

I have an evil voice that dwells inside me.  The demon likes to whisper words of discouragement.  This demon has many faces--the mommy demon, the wife demon, the writing demon.  Sometimes I battle more than one face, but usually one is stronger than the others.  Last week it was the writing demon.

Your writing is getting worse.  People will not want to read THAT.  You know that people are tired of reading your stuff, they want something more, something you can't give.  You should just give up.

I ignored the voice for as long as  I could.  Soon, though, my blog stats went down, the comments decreased, and I started listening to the demon.

Your readers are gone and they aren't going to come back. You are alone.


Its taunting whispers had turned into jeering shouts.  They overwhelmed to the point of suffocation, to the point that I couldn't take it anymore.  I just stopped.

I took a day off.

Then I received an e-mail, and a couple comments, each informing me of an award that was waiting for me to claim.  I was elated and became giddy.  My giddiness halted the demon's voice until it was so faint that I couldn't hear it anymore.

And now I get the opportunity to pass on these awards.

First, from Charlotte at Memories for Later, I received the Happy 101 Award.



I am pleased to pass this onto Big Little Wolf over at Big Little Wolf's Daily Plate of Crazy.  This lady makes me smile everyday.  If you haven't met her, click on over and enjoy her delightful and thought provoking posts.

Kelly and Suzicate sent the Sunshine Award my way.



I get to pass this onto 10 other bloggers.  I decided to give this to bloggers I have recently found and extremely enjoy.

1) Kristen at Enjoying Every Moment shares the joy of having 2 kids under two with me.  Her posts are reflections of my life on a daily basis.

2) Eva at Eva Evolving shares daily snippets of things she has learned.  I often walk away with much to ponder after reading her inspiring posts.

3) Wild at Random Musings of the Wild Mind provides (almost) daily doses of questions that have me thinking for hours on end.

4) Jen at Happy Shining People shares her joy of motherhood through pictures.

5) Marvett at Savoring the Simple is a talented photographer that captures her daily life through her lens.  I would love to pay her to photograph my daily life.

6) Serene at Serene is My Name, Not My Life! makes me giggle over her kid's daily antics.

7) Nicki at Nicki's Thoughts, Art, and Friends is writer that gives me something to chew on daily.

8 ) Luisa at Novembrance is a published author who gives me beautiful word gems whenever she writes.

9) Kim at Temporary? Insanity is my alter ego.  Except, she is the better half.  She writes marvelously, produces beautiful girls (I claim them for my boys!), and eloquently catalogues her weight loss journey.

10) The Damsel In Dis Dress at Old School provides timely recipes and cheap and easy how tos for things around the house.

Finally, Wolf presented me with the Sugar Doll Award.  Can I just say I smiled bigger than ever before when I saw this? Because I did.

To accept this award, I must agree to relating 10 things you don't know about me.  I will be doing this over the next 10 days.  Aren't you excited?

I am passing this off to Melanie J over at Write Stuff for her often amusing ramblings and Kelly at The Miller Mix because, well, she is amazing.

So, ladies, I can't wait to read your list of 10 things!

A Post With Really Great Transitions!

I used to dream about being a stripper.  I mean, looking like a stripper.  So, when Kelly reminded me that Amber is a common stripper name,  I was ecstatic.  She is right!  Since I have half of the stripper package (i.e. the name),  I am almost set in pursuing my dream.  Plus, I have always wanted to install a stripper bar in my bedroom.  Just imagine all the excitement that will bring!  I am sure my husband will assent to this new game plan.  The money is another incentive. Anyway,  I have decided to keep my name.  All of you can now rest easy knowing that I will still be  Amber tomorrow.  And maybe a stripper.

Speaking of names,  I can't keep a secret.  A secret identity that is.  Like the whole keeping my kid's names a secret in the blog land? Not gonna happen.   Thus, I have decided to get rid of all our nicknames.  Not right now!  I am going to do it in a fun way.  I am quivering with anticipation just thinking about it.

I am also quivering with anticipation because I have been given a whole slew (isn't that word great?!?) of awards recently that I need to pass on.  Along with these awards, I need to share a list of things you don't know about me.  I am pretty sure that I have disclosed everything about me on this blog already, but I will dig deep and find something awesome to share.

The end.

P.S. My kids say hi. They also say that I have been officially ungrounded.  Lucky me!

P.P.S. I know that all of you have harbored a dream or two of becoming a stripper. Admit it!

My Heart Is Full of Gratitude

My heart is full of gratitude today.  I tried and tried to write something poetic or philosophical but my mind kept returning to what I am thankful for.

I am thankful for a husband that respects and listens to my opinion.

I am thankful for a two healthy, beautiful children.

I am thankful for the ladies in my congregation.

I am thankful for the virtual friends I have made.

I am thankful that my adoption article was featured in Mormon Times.

I am thankful for the award that Charlotte passed on to me.

I am thankful and honored that a post of mine was recognized as a Just Post.

I am thankful that I can cook delicious meals for my family.

I am thankful for a warm apartment.

I am thankful that the weather has warmed up so that I can take my babies on walks.

I am thankful for my health.

I am thankful for wireless internet.

I am thankful that I have somewhere to write--and people to read--my thoughts.

I am thankful that because tomorrow is a holiday I get to spend all day with Mr. B.

Most of all, I am thankful for a loving Heavenly Father who knows me and leads me down the right path.

Do tell, what are you thankful for?

How Do You Define Depression?

Depression.  I have survived.  I am here to tell you it is horrible,  something that leaves your spirit bare.

This past week I have been feeling down.  Down and angry.  I have expressed rage that I cannot understand.  In the midst of these temper tantrums  (I guess we never really move away from tantrums, do we?), I will begin to cry uncontrollably.

What is wrong with me? I often asked myself.  Why am I so crazy?

I thought and thought,  and finally realized: depression.

Before I went and confessed all to my doctor,  I decided to wait a few more days.  I am  glad I did.

After a couple days and a big blow-up,  my husband sat me down for a talk.  In the course of his talk he made me realize how much I was hurting him.  He and I are both working extra hard.  He at school, me at home.  There really is no inequity in the diversification of our roles.  However,  I was sitting in a cess pool of pity.  My anger and hurt were eating away all the compassion I once felt.  He, on the other hand, was struggling to maintain a healthy balance between family and work in order to keep our family thriving.

I decided that I need to take a moment for myself.  The next day I went to the temple.  After some much needed alone time,  I recognized my problem:  I was not depressed,  I was hormonal.

Have you ever been around a lady who goes crazy during "that time of the month?"  Well, I am that lady.  When my hormones are imbalanced in any way,  I become a, well something that rhymes with "witch."

What scares me about this whole scenario is that if I had gone to my doctor he would have inevitably prescribed some form of SSRI.   I would have started taking medication that would only solve part of the problem.

Bruce recently wrote a provocative piece about this very topic.  He references an interview in which an author suggests that,

"mental illness is culturally determined, and that big drug companies have systematically worked to change the way other cultures view melancholy, for example, in order to sell them anti-depressant medications."

While, as Bruce infers, this viewpoint may be a bit extreme, it does make me wonder:  how much do doctors consider a holistic approach to depression and other mental health issues?

My dear Mr. B is considering becoming a Psychiatrist.  He and I have had many discourses about the importance of holistic medicine, an approach that looks at a person's life style to determine if any changes could alter the depression.

In my case,  the form of birth control I chose has altered my emotional state.  I should have recognized it immediately but I was so focused on depression that I failed to look at other options.

Believe me, I understand depression.  I have had my dose of that debilitating mental disease.  This time, though, I am lucky:  I only need to change my birth control.