I am aware that the title for this post mirrors that of an ill-fated NBC sitcom. I wish I could be more original but it is what it is. I am feeling a little better this evening than I was this morning. I had the beginning of a scratchy throat and runny nose. I took some vitamin C and have also received some other helpful tips that I'll be adopting. One was to take vitamin D, one was to drink a warm cup of water with honey and apple cider vinegar. I have all of those things already in my home so I will be taking the advice.
We have a meeting tomorrow morning with some of the staff at Jeremy's school. I am not nervous, actually. I kind of expected that I would be but I think I'm just too busy to realize it. Our days have taken on a rhythm that I enjoy quite a bit. It's like digging in the back of the closet for that old, worn sweatshirt and slipping it over your head. It still smells nice from the last time you washed it, it's got creases in it because it's been sitting folded for so long and it is just as soft and fuzzy as you remember.
I have long been aware that I am a creature who craves routine and habit. I am happiest when I know exactly what is happening and where I'm supposed to be at any given point in time. I have a tough time on vacation (on the rare occasion we get to go) because it's tough for me to just lie around and do nothing. I'm a hard-charging, type A personality into my bone marrow.
I have always done better running when I have an end goal in mind (e.g. a race or an improvement in time). I recently downloaded an app called Running for Weight Loss. I'm on week 2 and I love it because it sets out in specific detail when I should run, walk, sprint, cool down, etc.
This is just who I am. I fought it for a long time (I'm not sure why) and I'm just now realizing how much better I operate when I am living in a schedule. For most people, summer vacation is relaxing and freeing. For me it's like being underwater and getting disoriented about which way is up. It is terrifying and suffocating all at the same time.
Having Jeremy in full-day kindergarten has been wonderful for both of us. I am able to miss him and vice versa. We walk to go get him after school is over and upon arriving at home, I smother him in hugs and kisses. He reciprocates and we spend about 10 minutes in a lovefest. It's a grand thing. I am not yelling at him, I'm not losing my patience, I'm not being driven crazy by him just being Jeremy.
The break with Bekah is only until 1130, but I'm finding it just as glorious. She seems to be enjoying preschool (she'll be attending 5 days a week, 9-1130) and I am enjoying being on my own with Doug. I spent the last couple of mornings running a mind-numbing number of errands. Tomorrow, I'm hopeful that I can toss him in the jogging stroller and take a long walk along the bike paths in Crystal Lake.
I love the fall--although I dislike the smells associated with fall. I enjoy the cooler weather because I've never been one to tolerate heat well. I am grateful for the change in seasons. I wouldn't mind, for the record, moving to someplace like southern California. I enjoy the endless blue skies and temperate weather. For the time being, though, I will enjoy the changing temperatures, colors and other wonders of living in the Midwest.
I have a sense that this schedule we're on is going to make time absolutely soar by us. I don't mind except I'm acutely aware that Jeremy, who will turn 6 in a couple of days, is soon going to grow tired of me smothering him with hugs and kisses. Luckily, there are two more in the hopper for whom kisses and hugs will continue to be okay.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Quick and Dirty
Oh, my. I am beyond exhausted but I don't want too much time too lapse between posts. It's been a back-to-school extravaganza around here. Jeremy started last Thursday and Bekah started preschool today. We had an interesting visit to the optometrist last Wednesday (for Jeremy).
I think I've said before that Jeremy loathes doctors. It's nothing personal, it's just a result of overexposure to the profession. I never fault him about it and never press him to be kind to them. I was dreading the eye doctor for weeks and just wanted to get it over with, honestly.
Thankfully, when I told the nurse about Jeremy's diagnosis, they were extremely understanding. They didn't press about the digital eye mapping (or dilating) and made all sorts of modifications to the exam itself. Jeremy, in true Jeremy fashion, resisted any and all attempts to be examined. I finally had to have him sit in my lap and the doctor performed a manual exam on him.
All of this would have been fine had he and I been there by ourselves. As it was, I had Doug (whose nickname is Baby Destructo) and Bekah with me. Aside from ensuring that Jeremy didn't run away, my biggest priority was to not have to buy anything that Doug broke. I had filled out the new patient paperwork beforehand and then spent the rest of the appointment grabbing $300 frames out of Doug's chubby hands. I also didn't want him to break any displays (all made of glass) or fall down and injure himself (or someone else).
I will give it to him, he is cute for a reason. He grabbed for every expensive piece of eyewear and equipment he could reach (and then some). Bekah added to the level of difficulty by not wanting to listen to anyone's suggestions about where she should sit and what she should do.
After the exam was over, I breathed a sigh of relief. By this time Jeremy had escaped into the hallway. Our eye doctor is right next door to his psychologist, so I figured he was okay. I got the paperwork I needed to hand into the school and headed out to find Jeremy. I informed him we needed to go home and he had a meltdown.
I'll admit, this one was a bit unexpected. He had been telling me for days that when he closed both his eyes he couldn't see. I knew that sounded serious, honestly. I mean, like eye-surgery serious. What was even more devastating to him was that he didn't need glasses. I'm not kidding, fling-yourself-on-the-ground, scream out loud serious. All the way to Jewel (for a celebratory donut), he was telling me that the doctor was wrong, that I needed to take him back, that he needed glasses. I tried to explain to him that the doctor had examined him and found out he didn't need them. Nope, Jeremy just knew the doctor had made a mistake.
After about 15 minutes of the back and forth, he finally calmed down a bit. I am just grateful (as I'm sure my eye doctor is) that we won't have to be back there for another year. That gives me about 350 days to emotionally prepare. Hopefully, I'll be ready.
I think I've said before that Jeremy loathes doctors. It's nothing personal, it's just a result of overexposure to the profession. I never fault him about it and never press him to be kind to them. I was dreading the eye doctor for weeks and just wanted to get it over with, honestly.
Thankfully, when I told the nurse about Jeremy's diagnosis, they were extremely understanding. They didn't press about the digital eye mapping (or dilating) and made all sorts of modifications to the exam itself. Jeremy, in true Jeremy fashion, resisted any and all attempts to be examined. I finally had to have him sit in my lap and the doctor performed a manual exam on him.
All of this would have been fine had he and I been there by ourselves. As it was, I had Doug (whose nickname is Baby Destructo) and Bekah with me. Aside from ensuring that Jeremy didn't run away, my biggest priority was to not have to buy anything that Doug broke. I had filled out the new patient paperwork beforehand and then spent the rest of the appointment grabbing $300 frames out of Doug's chubby hands. I also didn't want him to break any displays (all made of glass) or fall down and injure himself (or someone else).
I will give it to him, he is cute for a reason. He grabbed for every expensive piece of eyewear and equipment he could reach (and then some). Bekah added to the level of difficulty by not wanting to listen to anyone's suggestions about where she should sit and what she should do.
After the exam was over, I breathed a sigh of relief. By this time Jeremy had escaped into the hallway. Our eye doctor is right next door to his psychologist, so I figured he was okay. I got the paperwork I needed to hand into the school and headed out to find Jeremy. I informed him we needed to go home and he had a meltdown.
I'll admit, this one was a bit unexpected. He had been telling me for days that when he closed both his eyes he couldn't see. I knew that sounded serious, honestly. I mean, like eye-surgery serious. What was even more devastating to him was that he didn't need glasses. I'm not kidding, fling-yourself-on-the-ground, scream out loud serious. All the way to Jewel (for a celebratory donut), he was telling me that the doctor was wrong, that I needed to take him back, that he needed glasses. I tried to explain to him that the doctor had examined him and found out he didn't need them. Nope, Jeremy just knew the doctor had made a mistake.
After about 15 minutes of the back and forth, he finally calmed down a bit. I am just grateful (as I'm sure my eye doctor is) that we won't have to be back there for another year. That gives me about 350 days to emotionally prepare. Hopefully, I'll be ready.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Traveling to Holland
I am writing again about my sweet Jeremy boy. He just went up to bed. I will clarify, he just went up to bed again. Brian put him to bed around 8, but he tends to wander down for extra cuddling time after Bekah falls asleep.
It was a crazy day today and I feel a sense of days to come. We had to get up early (for us) to get Tucker, my parents' dog (one of them) to the vet. After that we stopped at Meijer (where I forgot, again, to buy white sugar). I remembered partway through Meijer that Bekah had a make-up class for dance. So we hurried home and then off to dance class.
What I want to talk about, though, is something I heard on The Colbert Report. Brian and I are huge fans of the Daily Show and Colbert Report. We find we can get a sense of what's really going on if we watch these shows.
One of the reasons I love these shows is because they have a lot of authors as guests. We are behind a few months, so the one we watched featured an author named Andrew Solomon. His book, Far From the Tree: Parents, Children and the Search for Identity.
It's really a book about people who have kids who are completely not like them, in good and bad ways. He calls them exceptional and that is the best way I can describe Jeremy. He is exceptional. He was an expected child but we weren't really expecting what we ended up with.
Mr. Solomon described it this way--it's like you spend 40 weeks preparing to go to Italy. You buy the tickets, you learn the language, you study the culture, etc. Then, while you're on the airplane, the pilot comes on the PA and announces that you're actually traveling to Holland.
It's quite a shock, to be preparing for parenting a kid that's like the ones you read about in books, only to find out that he's about as different as you can get from that.
The idea of landing in a country other than the one for which you prepared can be jarring. The thing is, Holland is also quite beautiful. It has tulips and windmills and Rembrandt. Being Jeremy's parent has been like that for me. I landed in Holland kicking and screaming because it was so different than what I had expected. Now, since we have had a diagnosis and treatment plan, I'm starting to appreciate the different scenery.
Jeremy will start kindergarten in a few days. I have been awash in anxiety about a hundred different things. It's overwhelming and I spent most of last night in tears. I know he's going to the best school, has the best teachers, best support staff, best principal. I know God has a plan for him. I know all of these things. I trust the system, I know I don't know everything.
But he is my little Dutch boy. How can I explain him adequately to his kindergarten teacher? How will I tell her that he hates group singing and loud noises, but talks loudly himself? I'm afraid if I try to give too much information that I'll be the "crazy" mom. I am fairly certain that each room gets one and it's the early-crazy-bird-gets-the-room mentality.
We are dropping off supplies tomorrow and I'm really at a Los about what, if anything, I should say to her. Hum. Maybe I'll stay up until 2 AM worrying about it. That's probably the most direct route to a solution.
Or maybe praying. Maybe that's the best one.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
A Little Something...
Not sure what to write about today. There has been some short fiction spinning in my head. Forgive me, it's raw and undeveloped. I am going to share a segment of it and then, as it forms I'll show how it evolves.
I noticed right away. It's like watching a magnet being dragged across a TV set. My dream about returning to college, a recurring dream, was invaded by a snarly dragon.
I clawed my way to consciousness and felt her on my pillow. Her pink, round face twitched every few seconds. Her chest rose and fell with a soft rhythm. Her blond hair, sticky with remnants of a lollipop, clung to her cheeks. She sucked her fingers intermittently, her eyelids fluttering slightly.
Her dreams had a lot of dragons in them. Sometimes they were friendly but lately the dragons had started firebombing. She had been asking me a lot of dragon-related questions. I wasn't sure why the dragons were changing, but I decided I would ask her in the morning.
I rolled out of bed and picked her up to walk her back to her room.
I am not sure what this will turn into. It feels lame.
Friday, August 23, 2013
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Yesterday was a very emotional day for me. Nothing substantial happened--it was a series of unfortunate events.
I woke up, got the kids and headed downstairs. I noticed that one of my dogs had urinated on the carpet. I wanted to clean it immediately. Unfortunately, the dogs have been doing this a lot lately and I was out of cleaning solution in the carpet cleaner. I went to fill up the reservoir and the sink was full of dishes. I had to set aside the reservoir and load the dishwasher.
Except the dishwasher was full of dirty dishes. So I had to unload it. In trying to put something away in the utensil drawer, I noticed that an errant piece of the oven door was preventing the drawer from opening. So I had to fix the oven door.
The oven door is wonky for reasons I don't quite understand. I need to call someone to come out and look at it. I use the oven at least 3 times a week, even in the summer. I need my oven (and by extension, my oven door) to be functional. Repairing the door can be tricky and usually is a two-person job. The only people I had around were small so they couldn't help.
After about 15 minutes of wrestling with the door, I was able to get it together enough that nothing extra was sticking out and preventing the utensil drawer from opening. I continued to unload the dishes, but on doing so I noticed that the trap in the dishwasher was full of junk.
I spent about 10 minutes cleaning all the gunk and food from the trap. Understand, I cook most of my meals from scratch and we eat 98% of our meals at home. It's kind of a freakish point of pride but it's also a necessity (and healthier for us and cheaper). I can sometimes run my dishwasher 3 times in one day! The trap needed to be cleaned so that the next load would actually get clean.
I cleaned the trap, reassembled the dishwasher, loaded and started running the dishwasher and then (and only then) was I able to fill the reservoir for the carpet cleaner. I then had to use the carpet cleaner to clean the spot in the toy room.
At this point, I still hadn't even gotten the kids breakfast! My plan was to take Doug to get his haircut (this would be attempt #3), run to the store for a few ingredients and then home. In between all of the crazy tasks, it started raining. I think most normal people would scratch their day and think of fun, inside activities to do.
The problem was that we had an inside day the day before. It was too hot to go to the park (Doug gets overheated very quickly), so we tried to get his haircut (unsuccessfully) and went to the grocery store. I couldn't spend all day inside with everyone or else I was going to lose my mind. I also had plans for a quadruple recipe of waffles and I needed two or three more ingredients to make it work.
Out into the rain we went. Doug's haircut was successful, we went to Jewel, got home, had lunch, put Doug down for a nap. I was exhausted, so I closed my eyes for a bit. I awoke in time to get Doug up for his speech therapy appointment. I deposited the big kids in my room with the TV on and forbade them to come downstairs until after the therapist left.
Once she was gone, I figured I would work out. Doug was a bit fussy (which makes working out difficult--I usually aim for working out when he's asleep) and I even got short with him. This resulted in him spilling an entire cup of milk on the floor. The one blessing here is that the carpet cleaner was all ready to go! I cleaned it up and got back to working out....only to remember that I had no white sugar in the house. (Throughout the day, to add to my mental clutter, Jeremy used only two volumes of speaking--loud and louder. I could not convince him to quiet down and it made it difficult to concentrate.)
I have been consuming and using a great deal less white sugar than I ever have before. I do not care for the taste of stevia or other sweeteners. I usually bake one cake or a batch of cookies every other week. I don't want the aftertaste of stevia when I'm enjoying something I don't enjoy every day. The problem is that I'm out of the habit of buying sugar (since I use it infrequently).
So here I am, at the beginning of a workout, realizing that I am missing a key ingredient to my waffles. After making two trips to two different grocery stores in two days. Seriously!!! I sent a profanity-laced text to Brian about it. I wasn't angry with him, I was angry with myself. I continued to work out the best I could, which meant I held Doug in my arms for about 20 minutes of it.
As I was finishing, I remembered that I had some packets (quite a few) of Sugar in the Raw. Aha, I said to myself! I am saved. I sent a new text to Brian with the solution and got to work on the waffles. Please note that I had a chocolate long john from Jewel that day (yesterday) and so I didn't want to eat waffles as well. I am pleased to say that I made myself a separate dinner of eggs, avocados, black beans and quinoa. Not the best-looking meal, but no sugar and lots of good protein and fat.
I can tell you with assurance that I was probably the worst mom ever yesterday. I yelled at my kids, I lost my temper, I (might) have kicked a toy or two. I am not writing about yesterday because I am trying to convince you that I'm the worst mother, though. I am writing about yesterday because I want you to know that I have grace for yesterday. My kids are not upset with me today. All was forgotten because I still made the waffles. I still held them and kissed them good night and did all the things I'm supposed to do.
I'm not trying to convince you I should win an award. I love being a mom, even in all the messiness. I love every bit of it. I try to remember, though, that even though people find ways of turning their passions into jobs they still have really bad days. Loving what you do doesn't mean I become a Stepford mom. I am human and have foibles and shortcomings and all of that. I am fortunate that on the really shitty days, I have so many really great days to balance them out. I have been working so hard at being more active with my kids! I have been working hard to make more time for them and less for myself. But I have been running on fumes for a while. The running helps because I get away and get recharged. I am hoping that there will be more of that on a preemptive basis in the future.
Of all the jobs I've held, being a mom--stay at home or otherwise--is the absolute most draining, most stressful, most chaotic job I've ever done. I wish I could undo all of the things I did and said yesterday but I can't. I can, however, work harder to make sure that before it happens again, I have a good long stretch of days with no temper, with no angry words or toys being kicked or voices being raised. I am fortunate that I can't be fired from this job. It's one I will always hold and so I have an infinite number of times to fall down and get back up. (It's really a bonus and a drawback to the job.)
Everyone in my house is asleep right now except for me. My body is aching, I have a headache, my back hurts and I need a shower. I could just lie down on the couch, turn on the TV and call it a day. But there are dishes in the sink, the laundry room floor is hidden under piles of laundry and the kitchen is a disaster area. Literally. FEMA just called. We have a day tomorrow that is packed with fun stuff for all of us. If I go to bed tonight with the mess downstairs, I know my anger and impatience will creep into my mood and destroy the day.
I will be exhausted after all the work ahead of me, but that can be cured with a couple of strong cups of coffee. Luckily, they serve those where I'll be first thing in the morning. So off I go, to clean like a fiend (and watch Project Runway) so that we can have a glorious day of family fun tomorrow.
I'll be sure to tell you all about it.
I woke up, got the kids and headed downstairs. I noticed that one of my dogs had urinated on the carpet. I wanted to clean it immediately. Unfortunately, the dogs have been doing this a lot lately and I was out of cleaning solution in the carpet cleaner. I went to fill up the reservoir and the sink was full of dishes. I had to set aside the reservoir and load the dishwasher.
Except the dishwasher was full of dirty dishes. So I had to unload it. In trying to put something away in the utensil drawer, I noticed that an errant piece of the oven door was preventing the drawer from opening. So I had to fix the oven door.
The oven door is wonky for reasons I don't quite understand. I need to call someone to come out and look at it. I use the oven at least 3 times a week, even in the summer. I need my oven (and by extension, my oven door) to be functional. Repairing the door can be tricky and usually is a two-person job. The only people I had around were small so they couldn't help.
After about 15 minutes of wrestling with the door, I was able to get it together enough that nothing extra was sticking out and preventing the utensil drawer from opening. I continued to unload the dishes, but on doing so I noticed that the trap in the dishwasher was full of junk.
I spent about 10 minutes cleaning all the gunk and food from the trap. Understand, I cook most of my meals from scratch and we eat 98% of our meals at home. It's kind of a freakish point of pride but it's also a necessity (and healthier for us and cheaper). I can sometimes run my dishwasher 3 times in one day! The trap needed to be cleaned so that the next load would actually get clean.
I cleaned the trap, reassembled the dishwasher, loaded and started running the dishwasher and then (and only then) was I able to fill the reservoir for the carpet cleaner. I then had to use the carpet cleaner to clean the spot in the toy room.
At this point, I still hadn't even gotten the kids breakfast! My plan was to take Doug to get his haircut (this would be attempt #3), run to the store for a few ingredients and then home. In between all of the crazy tasks, it started raining. I think most normal people would scratch their day and think of fun, inside activities to do.
The problem was that we had an inside day the day before. It was too hot to go to the park (Doug gets overheated very quickly), so we tried to get his haircut (unsuccessfully) and went to the grocery store. I couldn't spend all day inside with everyone or else I was going to lose my mind. I also had plans for a quadruple recipe of waffles and I needed two or three more ingredients to make it work.
Out into the rain we went. Doug's haircut was successful, we went to Jewel, got home, had lunch, put Doug down for a nap. I was exhausted, so I closed my eyes for a bit. I awoke in time to get Doug up for his speech therapy appointment. I deposited the big kids in my room with the TV on and forbade them to come downstairs until after the therapist left.
Once she was gone, I figured I would work out. Doug was a bit fussy (which makes working out difficult--I usually aim for working out when he's asleep) and I even got short with him. This resulted in him spilling an entire cup of milk on the floor. The one blessing here is that the carpet cleaner was all ready to go! I cleaned it up and got back to working out....only to remember that I had no white sugar in the house. (Throughout the day, to add to my mental clutter, Jeremy used only two volumes of speaking--loud and louder. I could not convince him to quiet down and it made it difficult to concentrate.)
I have been consuming and using a great deal less white sugar than I ever have before. I do not care for the taste of stevia or other sweeteners. I usually bake one cake or a batch of cookies every other week. I don't want the aftertaste of stevia when I'm enjoying something I don't enjoy every day. The problem is that I'm out of the habit of buying sugar (since I use it infrequently).
So here I am, at the beginning of a workout, realizing that I am missing a key ingredient to my waffles. After making two trips to two different grocery stores in two days. Seriously!!! I sent a profanity-laced text to Brian about it. I wasn't angry with him, I was angry with myself. I continued to work out the best I could, which meant I held Doug in my arms for about 20 minutes of it.
As I was finishing, I remembered that I had some packets (quite a few) of Sugar in the Raw. Aha, I said to myself! I am saved. I sent a new text to Brian with the solution and got to work on the waffles. Please note that I had a chocolate long john from Jewel that day (yesterday) and so I didn't want to eat waffles as well. I am pleased to say that I made myself a separate dinner of eggs, avocados, black beans and quinoa. Not the best-looking meal, but no sugar and lots of good protein and fat.
I can tell you with assurance that I was probably the worst mom ever yesterday. I yelled at my kids, I lost my temper, I (might) have kicked a toy or two. I am not writing about yesterday because I am trying to convince you that I'm the worst mother, though. I am writing about yesterday because I want you to know that I have grace for yesterday. My kids are not upset with me today. All was forgotten because I still made the waffles. I still held them and kissed them good night and did all the things I'm supposed to do.
I'm not trying to convince you I should win an award. I love being a mom, even in all the messiness. I love every bit of it. I try to remember, though, that even though people find ways of turning their passions into jobs they still have really bad days. Loving what you do doesn't mean I become a Stepford mom. I am human and have foibles and shortcomings and all of that. I am fortunate that on the really shitty days, I have so many really great days to balance them out. I have been working so hard at being more active with my kids! I have been working hard to make more time for them and less for myself. But I have been running on fumes for a while. The running helps because I get away and get recharged. I am hoping that there will be more of that on a preemptive basis in the future.
Of all the jobs I've held, being a mom--stay at home or otherwise--is the absolute most draining, most stressful, most chaotic job I've ever done. I wish I could undo all of the things I did and said yesterday but I can't. I can, however, work harder to make sure that before it happens again, I have a good long stretch of days with no temper, with no angry words or toys being kicked or voices being raised. I am fortunate that I can't be fired from this job. It's one I will always hold and so I have an infinite number of times to fall down and get back up. (It's really a bonus and a drawback to the job.)
Everyone in my house is asleep right now except for me. My body is aching, I have a headache, my back hurts and I need a shower. I could just lie down on the couch, turn on the TV and call it a day. But there are dishes in the sink, the laundry room floor is hidden under piles of laundry and the kitchen is a disaster area. Literally. FEMA just called. We have a day tomorrow that is packed with fun stuff for all of us. If I go to bed tonight with the mess downstairs, I know my anger and impatience will creep into my mood and destroy the day.
I will be exhausted after all the work ahead of me, but that can be cured with a couple of strong cups of coffee. Luckily, they serve those where I'll be first thing in the morning. So off I go, to clean like a fiend (and watch Project Runway) so that we can have a glorious day of family fun tomorrow.
I'll be sure to tell you all about it.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Infectious Disease
There were a lot of things about marriage for which I wasn't prepared. I could write a book. One of them goes to the core of who I am as a person, and that is that I'm incredibly empathic.
I recently started reading a book entitled Weight Loss for People Who Feel Too Much.The author postulates that for people like me, weight loss is more than just calories in being less than calories out. She claims that because we spend so much time absorbing the energy of the people around us, it causes us to be less able to lose weight.
The book was a little out there, I'll admit. I didn't read the whole book because she was asking for some pretty serious commitments of activities to which I couldn't commit. I will say that the premise was out there but I could relate.
I mention all of this because being empathic especially has an impact on my marriage. My husband is my best friend, the father of my children, the person with whom I'm spending the rest of my life. It would be insane to think that our moods wouldn't collide, intersect and mix together.
I am by nature an optimistic person. I will admit that over the past 5 years, my nature has taken quite a pounding. It's been an unfortunate series of events on all sides. The one thing that has saved us as a couple has been our mutual trust in God. We know that, no matter what, He is absolutely in control.
The problem is that we are two mega-control freaks. We know that He is in control but we are freaked out that we don't know the details, that there's no overlying blueprint to our lives that we can see, touch, feel. It has dogged our good natures at every turn. Specifically during the months of August and September, we struggle and grapple with what is going to happen to our family.
Every year, I do my best to shield my optimism against Brian's pessimism (he would say realism). It is mostly a losing battle, one that is waged in in my heart and mind. My mood this month has been in good shape because I've been working out and eating well. I am struggling to get enough sleep and that has worked against me. I am also struggling to get enough spiritual feeding.
And that is when doubt and fear creep in, slowly, subtly, peeling away the shield I have up. Today has been one of those days, when I am feeling low and discouraged not because of circumstances in my life but because of the circumstances in Brian's life. True, there's a lot of intersection. True, we are working toward common goals that are seeing common setbacks. The point is that I am not required to be discouraged by the contract of marriage.
It's a tough thing, to keep one's identity when married. Tougher still when your lives have been battered by multiple storms. I know, in my heart of hearts, that everything is going to be okay. It always has been. I'm not joking when I say that in the times we are most desperate, things just show up for us. It has not always made sense but it has always been on time (not always ours, but on time in a cosmic sense).
So it is that I find myself close to tears. My heart is breaking because I can't erase the doubt and fear clouding my husband's heart. I want so much to help him get past his fear. I want so much to help him see the future that I see for our family. I don't know exactly what it looks like, but I know that it resides solidly in God's hands. I don't depend on my husband to pay our bills. I don't depend on my husband to meet all my needs. That would be so completely unfair to him. I depend on God. I see God as the provider.
It's a tough thing to grapple with at midnight. Perhaps I'll sleep on it and see how we're feeling in the morning.
I recently started reading a book entitled Weight Loss for People Who Feel Too Much.The author postulates that for people like me, weight loss is more than just calories in being less than calories out. She claims that because we spend so much time absorbing the energy of the people around us, it causes us to be less able to lose weight.
The book was a little out there, I'll admit. I didn't read the whole book because she was asking for some pretty serious commitments of activities to which I couldn't commit. I will say that the premise was out there but I could relate.
I mention all of this because being empathic especially has an impact on my marriage. My husband is my best friend, the father of my children, the person with whom I'm spending the rest of my life. It would be insane to think that our moods wouldn't collide, intersect and mix together.
I am by nature an optimistic person. I will admit that over the past 5 years, my nature has taken quite a pounding. It's been an unfortunate series of events on all sides. The one thing that has saved us as a couple has been our mutual trust in God. We know that, no matter what, He is absolutely in control.
The problem is that we are two mega-control freaks. We know that He is in control but we are freaked out that we don't know the details, that there's no overlying blueprint to our lives that we can see, touch, feel. It has dogged our good natures at every turn. Specifically during the months of August and September, we struggle and grapple with what is going to happen to our family.
Every year, I do my best to shield my optimism against Brian's pessimism (he would say realism). It is mostly a losing battle, one that is waged in in my heart and mind. My mood this month has been in good shape because I've been working out and eating well. I am struggling to get enough sleep and that has worked against me. I am also struggling to get enough spiritual feeding.
And that is when doubt and fear creep in, slowly, subtly, peeling away the shield I have up. Today has been one of those days, when I am feeling low and discouraged not because of circumstances in my life but because of the circumstances in Brian's life. True, there's a lot of intersection. True, we are working toward common goals that are seeing common setbacks. The point is that I am not required to be discouraged by the contract of marriage.
It's a tough thing, to keep one's identity when married. Tougher still when your lives have been battered by multiple storms. I know, in my heart of hearts, that everything is going to be okay. It always has been. I'm not joking when I say that in the times we are most desperate, things just show up for us. It has not always made sense but it has always been on time (not always ours, but on time in a cosmic sense).
So it is that I find myself close to tears. My heart is breaking because I can't erase the doubt and fear clouding my husband's heart. I want so much to help him get past his fear. I want so much to help him see the future that I see for our family. I don't know exactly what it looks like, but I know that it resides solidly in God's hands. I don't depend on my husband to pay our bills. I don't depend on my husband to meet all my needs. That would be so completely unfair to him. I depend on God. I see God as the provider.
It's a tough thing to grapple with at midnight. Perhaps I'll sleep on it and see how we're feeling in the morning.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Born to Run
I have participated in several dozen running events, from 5K to full marathons. At every single one of these runs, Bruce Springteen's song, Born to Run, is played liberally. That, along with Eye of the Tiger, are two songs I always expect to hear.
I was on an overnight this past weekend. I didn't get to move as much on Friday as I wanted to. A friend was going to run around Lake Geneva (approx. 22 miles) and invited anyone who wanted to along with her. I was unable to due to time restraints and also because I'm not there yet. One thing I did notice, though, was I felt slumped on Friday. I didn't have the usual pep in my step, my mood was a little lower and I just didn't feel like I was firing on all cylinders.
Inspired by my friend's trek around Lake Geneva (it really is beautiful, you are literally walking through people's backyards and the houses and yards are unbelievable), I decided to come home and try to run a bit. Well, really I took Bekah to dance class, went grocery shopping, took her to a birthday party and started working on dinner. Then I thought I would try running.
Unfortunately, the kids had different ideas. I think they missed me and didn't want to see me leave again, so they begged to go with me. I tried to tell them that I was going to go for a long walk. I tried to explain that I wasn't going to be able to carry them or hold them, that they were going to have to walk. They assured me all of this was fine.
It turned out to be the longest 2.21 miles in my life!! I had to let go of the idea that it was going to be a fitness walk. They were not interested in walking fast or hurrying up. They were, however, interested in seeing how many twigs, pinecones and other flotsam they could pick up on the way home. Jeremy ended the walk with quite a collection.
They begged me, at various points, to take a break, to stop, to slow down, etc. I knew in the back of my mind that stopping meant we would never, ever get home. That was not an option. So we soldiered on. It was quite an adventure.
Yesterday, I wanted to go running. They wanted to go with me. I told them it was going to be the same thing. They decided to ride their bikes. Okay, I thought, at least if they're riding their bikes I can still jog a bit. Except that it was hot and humid yesterday and I didn't bring any water. We had a few spurts of me jogging along behind them, but it took a lot of cajoling, encouraging, prodding and pushing to get them to finish. I had the same principle in mind as the day before--just keep moving. I've run enough races to know that stopping to rest may seem like the sane option but in the end it breaks up momentum and ends up making the race last longer.
Mondays are always tough. I enjoy having Brian home all day over the weekend because he is a buffer between me and the kids. He will help redirect them if they are being too demanding of me. He will allow me to go take a nap (sans children). Monday morning is always a cold bucket of water on that set-up for me.
This morning it started super early. Bekah had crawled into bed with me (as did Jeremy) and was on top of my head. I am a firm believer in not touching during sleep. I don't like snuggling or cuddling or anything like that. As far as I'm concerned, I would like to lay down a barbed wire fence in the middle of my bed. So having a 4-year-old on top of my head is not conducive to good sleep. She was also having a bad dream, which involved flailing arms and whimpering. At 4 AM.
I was so disoriented that I fought her off until 5:23, at which point the temperature in our bedroom must have been close to 80, even though in the rest of the house it was 67. I was overheated, crowded, sleepy and cranky. I carried her to bed, said no to her request for a lullaby and went back to bed.
If the day starts off like that, it usually doesn't get better. We had to go get the oil changed in the van and I became progressively more exhausted! I had no caffeine readily available. We were going to go get Doug's hair cut after that, but the place we visited didn't have availability. We went home and after feeding the kids lunch and putting Doug in his crib, I closed my eyes for a bit.
Upon waking, I knew I needed to make a batch of bread, make dinner for the kids and prepare Brian for the fact that I was going to go running tonight. By myself. True to my word, I had prepared dinner for the kids and the bread was in the oven when he got home. I was already in my running shoes and kissed everyone good-bye. Bekah was the most upset that I was leaving, but even Brian understood that taking her with wasn't going to get me the benefit I wanted.
I ran for about half an hour, almost 3 miles. I felt really good. I wasn't trying to catch my breath, I wasn't hurting anywhere, I wasn't overwhelmed. I did take a short walking break as I approached the crosswalk, but other than that I was running up to 2.50 miles. It felt awesome!! I can tell that I've lost weight (aside from the obvious measure of pounds on the scale coming off) because things were not jiggling as much and my knees were not screaming at me.
It was blissful. I didn't play Springsteen on the iPhone, but baby I was born to run.
I was on an overnight this past weekend. I didn't get to move as much on Friday as I wanted to. A friend was going to run around Lake Geneva (approx. 22 miles) and invited anyone who wanted to along with her. I was unable to due to time restraints and also because I'm not there yet. One thing I did notice, though, was I felt slumped on Friday. I didn't have the usual pep in my step, my mood was a little lower and I just didn't feel like I was firing on all cylinders.
Inspired by my friend's trek around Lake Geneva (it really is beautiful, you are literally walking through people's backyards and the houses and yards are unbelievable), I decided to come home and try to run a bit. Well, really I took Bekah to dance class, went grocery shopping, took her to a birthday party and started working on dinner. Then I thought I would try running.
Unfortunately, the kids had different ideas. I think they missed me and didn't want to see me leave again, so they begged to go with me. I tried to tell them that I was going to go for a long walk. I tried to explain that I wasn't going to be able to carry them or hold them, that they were going to have to walk. They assured me all of this was fine.
It turned out to be the longest 2.21 miles in my life!! I had to let go of the idea that it was going to be a fitness walk. They were not interested in walking fast or hurrying up. They were, however, interested in seeing how many twigs, pinecones and other flotsam they could pick up on the way home. Jeremy ended the walk with quite a collection.
They begged me, at various points, to take a break, to stop, to slow down, etc. I knew in the back of my mind that stopping meant we would never, ever get home. That was not an option. So we soldiered on. It was quite an adventure.
Yesterday, I wanted to go running. They wanted to go with me. I told them it was going to be the same thing. They decided to ride their bikes. Okay, I thought, at least if they're riding their bikes I can still jog a bit. Except that it was hot and humid yesterday and I didn't bring any water. We had a few spurts of me jogging along behind them, but it took a lot of cajoling, encouraging, prodding and pushing to get them to finish. I had the same principle in mind as the day before--just keep moving. I've run enough races to know that stopping to rest may seem like the sane option but in the end it breaks up momentum and ends up making the race last longer.
Mondays are always tough. I enjoy having Brian home all day over the weekend because he is a buffer between me and the kids. He will help redirect them if they are being too demanding of me. He will allow me to go take a nap (sans children). Monday morning is always a cold bucket of water on that set-up for me.
This morning it started super early. Bekah had crawled into bed with me (as did Jeremy) and was on top of my head. I am a firm believer in not touching during sleep. I don't like snuggling or cuddling or anything like that. As far as I'm concerned, I would like to lay down a barbed wire fence in the middle of my bed. So having a 4-year-old on top of my head is not conducive to good sleep. She was also having a bad dream, which involved flailing arms and whimpering. At 4 AM.
I was so disoriented that I fought her off until 5:23, at which point the temperature in our bedroom must have been close to 80, even though in the rest of the house it was 67. I was overheated, crowded, sleepy and cranky. I carried her to bed, said no to her request for a lullaby and went back to bed.
If the day starts off like that, it usually doesn't get better. We had to go get the oil changed in the van and I became progressively more exhausted! I had no caffeine readily available. We were going to go get Doug's hair cut after that, but the place we visited didn't have availability. We went home and after feeding the kids lunch and putting Doug in his crib, I closed my eyes for a bit.
Upon waking, I knew I needed to make a batch of bread, make dinner for the kids and prepare Brian for the fact that I was going to go running tonight. By myself. True to my word, I had prepared dinner for the kids and the bread was in the oven when he got home. I was already in my running shoes and kissed everyone good-bye. Bekah was the most upset that I was leaving, but even Brian understood that taking her with wasn't going to get me the benefit I wanted.
I ran for about half an hour, almost 3 miles. I felt really good. I wasn't trying to catch my breath, I wasn't hurting anywhere, I wasn't overwhelmed. I did take a short walking break as I approached the crosswalk, but other than that I was running up to 2.50 miles. It felt awesome!! I can tell that I've lost weight (aside from the obvious measure of pounds on the scale coming off) because things were not jiggling as much and my knees were not screaming at me.
It was blissful. I didn't play Springsteen on the iPhone, but baby I was born to run.
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