Toward a New Year

Holy cow. It's been a long time since I've had the time and compunction to sit down and write something. I've been spending my writing time on shorter things--e.g. texts, e-mails, posts on Facebook. Here we are, rounding on another flip of the calendar, and I've not written in more than 5 months.

Part of me stopped writing because I was tired of what I had to say. One of the drawbacks of mental illness (at least for me) is that one can get stuck in the same spot for too long. I felt frozen, both with fear and boredom, by the fact that I could only find words to write about my depression.

The monster is still present, I will say that. The holidays are rough not because of loss of person or for sentimental reasons, but because my routine is gone and I flounder. I struggle with this over the summer break, too, but at least then I can send the kids outside for a bit, or sit in the sun, or go running.

I've not been for a run in quite a while. I want to run, don't get me wrong. The trouble has again become an equipment shortage. I have some clothes appropriate for running in cold weather, but not for running in a Chicago winter. I had hoped to join a gym for these long winter months, but that continues to be an elusive dream.

In happier news, I am grateful that Bekah has decided not to have a Pump It Up! party. Phew! I love her and would have made it work, but the thought of sinking $200-300 into a kids' birthday party was tough to consider. She is opting for a small party at home. We recently attended a birthday party at one of her friends' houses. It was a garden party, but not in a My Secret Garden sense. Instead, each attendee painted a terracotta pot and planted a square of grass in it. It was really cute, affordable and simple. The decorations were handmade (something at which I excel), the favors were little watering cans and hair bands with a flower crocheted on them. All manageable, affordable things.

Bekah has also decided she wants to perform in the Nutcracker next December with her dance studio. I am excited for her to perform but overwhelmed at the financial commitment. I am going to be praying that God will provide for her in a tangible, measurable way.

Meanwhile, I take some satisfaction in having accomplished my resolutions for this year. I saved more money than I've ever saved before, I lost weight, I read more. Those will be my goals again for 2015. I have about 45 pounds to go before I am under 200. I feel like I can achieve that. I am going to chat with my trainer and see what her input is, but I feel like that is a manageable goal.

I am also hoping this coming year is the one where I complete the novel I started working on last year. I've not been able to carve out time to write this year--my hope is that I am able to do so in 2015. We shall see what comes of it.

I am grateful for so much this year and wish that would overpower the depression that has crept upon me. I know that once we start school again, the fog in my brain will clear and I will be able to move forward toward achieving my goals.

Time is (not) On My Side

I just stood at my daughter's bedside, tears streaming down my face, begging her to let me be. She was still up as of 9:45 and wanting a lullaby. I have been doing a little better the past couple weeks but this week has been rough. 

I told her, between sobs, that I just didn't have a lullaby in me. Definitely not my proudest parenting moment. It didn't come out of nowhere, though. It was building up for quite a while. It was inevitable that it would happen, though I never thought the request for a lullaby would take me over the edge. 

It all started yesterday, when some plans for a night out fell through. I had been excited to get out but my friends were exhausted. They offered to still hang out and set their exhaustion aside. I considered that noble but unnecessary. 

It did get me thinking, though, about how much time Brian spends away from home everyday. When we first moved in, he worked from home. He was very disciplined about it and it worked out quite well for all of us. Upon Bekah's second birthday, his boss told him he had to start reporting to the office again. 

It impacted our budget a great deal. More than I have realized, though, it has impacted the emotional health of my family. 

I did the math yesterday. Let's say I go to sleep at midnight, which is fairly typical for me. I won't apologize for it and I don't feel ashamed. I love the nighttime because I have some measure of solitude. 

So I fall asleep at midnight. The next time I see my husband is 18 hours later. Yep. His alarm goes off at 5:15 AM. He is gone long before my eyes open. He gets done with work at 4:30 and doesn't walk in the door until 6:00 PM (7:00 PM on Thursdays). 

I am almost always antsy to get out of the house. I've never been able to figure out why. I've honestly felt guilty about it from time to time. I talk to other moms and they are never as eager to get out as I. This baffled me, frankly. 

I realized today why I'm so antsy to get out. I am alone with my kids for 18 hours. Of course, they are not early risers and so it's not a true 18 hours, but ultimately I am responsible for my kids, on my own, for 18 hours. 

I am an extrovert. I love to be around people. If someone asks me 10 times to hang out, I will say yes 9 times. It energizes, centers and calms me to be out among other adults. 

And there's the rub. 

One may point out that I am around people for 18 hours a day. One would be correct. What one doesn't understand is that the people who form my herd are not adults. They don't converse well (mostly we talk at each other, not to each other). Not only that, they are mostly dependent on me. I have to cook for them, dress them, wrangle them and amuse them (or direct them to amuse themselves). 

It's exhausting. 

I don't want my readers to conclude that I don't like my spouse or enjoy spending time with him. I do. We have a great time together. The problem is, at best we get an hour to an hour and a half of time together at night. Usually that time is interrupted by requests from kids up way past their bedtime. Usually I'm either working on housework or feeling guilty that I'm too tired or lazy to work on housework. Usually I'm distracted because I'm trying to finish a book (I'm not joking, I've been reading a book a day for at least two weeks). 

The only way I can actually unwind and relax is to be physically removed from my home. I need to not see the dishes, clothes and clutter that glares at me all day. I need to not be grilled about the coming day's activities. 

It seems logical, then, that I should find ways to get out. And I do. I run, I go to counseling, I go to the library, I go shopping. Those are solitary activities. I joined a moms group in order to have organized activities at night. I used to make it to every activity; now, I'm lucky to make it to one activity a quarter. Finances have started impeding my ability to join the other moms for the activities. 

I know I need to get out and I know other moms need to as well. I couldn't understand why they don't all share the same enthusiasm as I for getting out. A couple of thoughts emerged as I pondered this dilemma. 

First, only some of my friends are extroverts. Those that are extroverts may not be the same kind of "out and about" extrovert that I am. Then there are the introverts, for whom the prospect of going out is exhausting. I hadn't really factored that into the equation. 

Point two is that for some people, their husbands are not gone for quite so long. Some may have their husbands home for the summer. Some might have non-traditional work schedules that allow them long, uninterrupted hours of adult interaction. They are basking in the opportunity to spend time with them, to accomplish projects around the house, to travel, etc. They are also able to get out during the day-sometimes (gasp) all my themselves!! They don't arrive at the end of the day as drained as I. (Or maybe they do but then are trying to stock up on time with their hubbies because they know it's only for a short time. Who knows.)

At the beginning of the summer, I thought husbands being home more would mean I could hang with friends more. That hasn't been the case and as I am prone to insecurity and self-doubt, I was taking this personally. Over the past few days, I've seen how childish that is. There are logical explanations for lack of time spent together that have nothing to do with me. As usual, I am always in trouble when I have unrealistic expectations. It sets me up for resentments every single time. Instead of starting off assuming people are avoiding me, I can start to understand that not everyone's day is like mine. The lack of time spent together is temporary, not permanent. It's a season (sometimes literally, sometimes not). It will pass or it will change and I will grow through it. 

Maybe God has a lesson he wants me to learn and I won't be able to learn it while I'm out all the time. Who knows. 

I am never sure what the solution is to my problems. I am never sure how to approach a solution. I certainly don't want to twist people's arms to spend time with me. I understand people's limitations and I don't want to impose on anyone. 

Over the next week, I do have one night planned with a night out. I'm carpooling with someone, so even though it's in Woodstock it's not going to break the bank. Other than that, it's a week that will be long and mostly unbroken from my responsibility for my kids. I am anxious about a meeting next Wednesday night. It's going to be crazy and I'm dreading it. 

I am committed to running three times next week. Somehow I feel like if I can focus on that for now, a solution might present itself. 

One can hope. 

Sum, Sum, Summertime

Oh, my. This summer is blazing by very quickly. I spent some time today really cleaning the house. Picked up my bedroom, did some laundry, vacuumed, put laundry away, had the kids clean their bedroom. I feel like it was a very productive day.

I have been trying to run at least twice a week (really I aim for three times, but am happy with two). I am moving into the last third of a training program on my phone. It's running punctuated by some sprinting. I like it because it's laid out so specifically. Every segment is announced as I'm running, so I know exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.

The other night, though, I had a rough go of things. It was more humid than it's been for most of the summer. I have a water belt but it doesn't fit me yet. It fit me at one time but now it doesn't. I refuse to get rid of it because I'm hopeful that by next summer it will fit me.

Meanwhile, I have been running without water. It's not ideal, even on a cool day. On a humid day where the sun is blazing, it's really quite dangerous.

I tend to run in the evening, around 6, after Brian gets home from work. On Wednesdays I go out at about 7:30. Sometimes, if I'm very ambitious, I go on a Sunday night, usually a bit earlier. I don't like to eat a lot before I go but that gets tricky, too.

I am at a point where I need new shoes. I am planning on making a stop at The Running Depot in downtown Crystal Lake. I have wide feet and typically wear New Balance stability shoes, owing to the orthotics I wear to correct pronation. I haven't changed my brand of shoe in a few years and I think it's time to get reevaluated. The problem is of course the finances. I spend more money on my running shoes than I spend on clothes and shoes combined for a year. And I buy at least 4-5 pairs a year. In fact, I've not bought a pair of shoes (new or otherwise) aside from running shoes for at least 3 years. I'm actually quite proud of that, owing to the fact that I have several pairs of pretty nice shoes in my closet. Maybe they're in style, maybe they're not. It used to be quite an addiction for me and so I'm glad I've been able to quit it.

I see buying high-quality running shoes as a worthy investment. I spend a lot of time on my feet, even when I'm not running. I need the extra support in general, but you add in my burgeoning back problems and I need them even more. I have some things in the pipeline that should enable me to buy a new pair of shoes before mid-August. I'm a little excited about that, honestly.

Meanwhile, Jeremy's birthday is upon us. Last year we weren't able to give him any kind of party. We just didn't have the budget for it. He told us he wanted a party at Monkey Joe's. We were determined to do just that for him this year.

Then a funny thing happened. Monkey Joe's closed and Jeremy decided he wanted a party at our house. That, in my opinion, is a double jackpot. Parties at Monkey Joe's cost $150-200 easy. I can produce a very nice party at our house for a fraction of that cost. Second, I liked Monkey Joe's okay but there were limits to how many kids you could invite. That's always a tricky thing. Now, we can invite everyone he wants (I'm sure some won't be able to make it) and not have to worry about the extra cost.

I've already decided we are getting pizzas from Little Caesar's. I personally can't stand them and think they taste like crap. The kids, though, don't have quite as discerning palates as I. It's really the $5 price that I like the best. Throw in some snacks, a homemade cake, juice boxes and decorations and I'd say we'll spend no more than $75. Phew!!

Jeremy has been a handful at times this summer. It has been tough to manage the emotions I know got managed by his teachers over the school year. The bright spot has been that he's been invited to 3 different birthday parties. It makes me happy because it reminds me that though he drives me nuts, he has some friends. He has kids in his life who are willing to look past the quirks and tics and see that he's a good kid. He had a meltdown the other day at a play date. There were about 10 kids and they were picking teams. He was upset not because he didn't get picked but because he and his sister (his best friend, according to him) weren't put on the same team.

It's hard sometimes to separate the autism from Jeremy. It seems like they are inexorably enmeshed in one another. I have to remember that he doesn't get embarrassed about his behavior the way I do. I won't apologize and I don't feel ashamed about that. It's tough to admit but it's the truth. I get embarrassed when he flings himself down on the ground, screams or in other ways makes a scene.

Oddly enough, he doesn't.

I prayed all summer last year that God would send kids into his life that would be good to him. I have seen a few kids treat Jeremy as inferior. For the most part, though, I have seen kids embrace him and welcome him into their lives. It helps me to remember that God has his hand on Jeremy. I picked his name before we ever got pregnant. I found out later that it means "God will exalt."

And really, He has.

Month in Review

I haven't blogged in a month. I was starting to get tired of seeing myself write about depression so much. I decided to take a break until I didn't feel quite so bad. 

That was actually a few weeks ago, but then life got in the way. I'm not really complaining because we have been very busy in a good way. 

I am in week 4 of an 8 week training program called Running for Weight Loss Pro. I made an attempt to complete it last year but got bronchitis and then the weather got real cold real fast. This made it impossible for me to finish it. 

I decided to start back at the beginning. It had been a while since I had been running and I wanted to ease back into it. I feel like I made the right decision. It is just starting to be mostly running (it started as running/walking). 

I love running, I've mentioned that before. It's always been the thing that winds my clock. I had an epic run last Wednesday night. Over the past couple of years, I've managed to shave close to 4 minutes off my mile pace. 

I wish every run was epic but it's not. There are ones like Monday where I plod through, my legs heavy and uncoordinated. It seemed like every stretch of road was uphill. I finished strong but I didn't hear Chariots of Fire playing at any point during the 45 minutes I was running. 

Luckily, I know not to throw in the towel because of a run like that. My FB fanbase likes to cheer me on and I appreciate it because I draw a lot of strength from the positive words. 

In other news, I have started seeing a counselor. I am going to give a shout-out to EFCCL once again. This is the first time in years that I've found a Christian counselor with hours that fit my schedule and isn't costing a fortune. It's kind of a miracle. 

I have seen her three or four times and I'm enjoying it immensely. She is a counselor with the added benefit of being a Biblical scholar. It is helpful because I've had many questions about my faith lately. I'm not considering another faith, but I am trying to mature and it's tough. I've spent a long time being angry with God. Luckily, He's big enough to take my anger and my questions. My counselor is helping clarify doctrine and I really appreciate having someone willing to do that with me one-on-one. 

Meanwhile, we are still struggling financially. I am encouraged lately because I feel like the job market is starting to loosen a bit. I just confirmed that I would work childcare for an event at The Chapel-Barrington. That will be a nice bump in funds for my semi-annual KidStuff Resale trip. My mom is helping me a bit with school supplies. I am starting to find deals for other things I will need. All in all, while things haven't changed drastically for the better, they've also not changed drastically for the worse. 

Finally, I need to give a shout-out to my FB friends. I had three different people (who know me from three different places) share the Weird Al song Word Crimes with me. It warms my heart! It means I've done a good job communicating my hatred of word and grammar abuse. 

Word. 

(Drops microphone and walks away.)

Summer Vacay Blues

Last week was a pretty crazy week. It was full of cannot-miss appointments and was complicated by a virus that Jeremy fought for four days. The only symptom was a fever. Further complicating it was that he detests taking liquid medication. It's always been a struggle to get him to drink Motrin or Tylenol (Bekah, on the other hand, longs to be able to take these medications). I did discover, partway through the week, that he is able to take a pill form of Junior Motrin. That seemed to work better though he still balked at taking the medication at all.

His illness, coupled with the appointments and the steady rain for a couple of days, meant we were on pretty tight lockdown. I've discovered that's not how I want to spend all of summer vacation. We watched a LOT of TV and I let Jeremy play on his iPad way, way too much. It was just a survival week.

Bekah's recital capped off the week. It was on Saturday and she absolutely killed it. Her best friend, Bella, is in her dance class. They were always distracting one another. Bella's mom and I remarked just a few weeks ago that we weren't sure they were going to put on a cohesive performance. Alas, they were saving it all for the recital! Everyone remembered the routine and they did a great job as an ensemble.

The only bummer was that our babysitter fell through (a scheduling snafu on her part) and though I scrambled to find a replacement, Brian ended up having to stay home. We are going to purchase the DVD and have a big party (really, a party with Bekah, Jeremy, Doug, me and Brian) to watch it. I can't wait for Brian to see it because I know he's really going to enjoy it.

Meanwhile, I spent a lot of time brainstorming a blog entry and then arguing with myself in my head about whether or not to write it. I am still fighting a lot of depression and anxiety. There is a part of me that says, "self, you need to write about that because I'm sure there are other moms struggling and they would love to know they're not alone." Then another part says, "enough already, retard! Stop with all of this, pull it together and just act as if everything is fine. Nobody wants to hear you whine and complain." (As you can see, I have a few really rough neighborhoods in my head.)

The image that stuck with me is from the movie Constantine, starring Keanu Reeves and Rachel Weisz. I have seen it numerous times. There are some pretty awesome scenes. It's based on a graphic novel and it deals (in broad strokes and with a liberal bent) with the war on earth between good and evil. I am not offended by anything said in the movie. I don't think the director intended his movie to be a gospel when it comes to spiritual warfare. It's a work of fiction.

That being said, I loved some of the conversations and imagery in the movie. The one that sticks out comes at the end of the movie. Constantine (played by Reeves) is a supernatural detective/crime fighter. We learn early on that he is dying of lung cancer. He smokes in most frames of the movie.

At the end of the movie, Lucifer (Peter Stormare, who played Steve Buscemi's partner in Fargo) comes to collect Constantine, who has just committed suicide. After having a conversation with Constantine, he tries to drag him to hell only to discover that he no longer has domain over him (I know it sounds convoluted, but I'm telling you it works). In the next scene, we see Constantine's body/spirit floating up to heaven. Lucifer, angry that he's lost that soul, reaches his hands into Constantine's chest. As he pulls them out, we see they are covered with a black, tar-like substance. It drips off of his hands and seems to stain them.

(I'm sorry it took so long to explain but I really do think you should see the movie, it's really well-done.)

Every time I've considered my depression and anxiety over the past week, that's how I've pictured them. Black, sticky, heavy, gross. I picture it spilling out when I talk to friends about it. I realized that the reason depressed people don't have a lot of close friends is because of that tar. I feel like as people listen to me it starts to coat their ears and hands. It makes their shoes stick to the ground, like walking through a swamp would do, making that schlooop sound as they try to pull themselves out of it.

I imagine cleaning all of it off is exhausting, as it's exhausting to live with it coursing through my body. I don't wonder that I've lost friends over the years. I don't blame anyone or harbor ill feelings.

Quite frankly, I don't want to be friends with myself. Though it would seem like I'm just wallowing in self-pity, I can assure you that the way I'm seeing the world these days is as if the color and dimension has been taken out. Everything is flat and gray. Bekah's performance, wonderful as it was, only broke me out of this feeling temporarily before the tar slurped me back in.

I don't feel like I've anything to offer anyone. I do what I can to make sure my kids are fed, have clean clothes and basic care. We went to the library yesterday so I could enroll them in the summer reading program. Though I don't feel like it, I'm reading to them in fits and starts. Jeremy is obsessed with our iPad. Once he started feeling better, we went back to our strict 1-hour limit of playing time. He doesn't like this. He is making my life miserable for enforcing this rule.

Everything in my mind is screaming, don't fight it with him. Let him play on it as much as he wants. When he is on the iPad, I don't have to worry about him or engage with him. It's one less stream of steady questions, whining and demands. It's one less person to worry about throughout the day.

I want to leave Doug in his crib for too long. Granted, it takes him a while to take a nap and then he still takes a 2-hour nap. I have tried cutting out his nap but he's not ready for it. The point is, if he is in his crib, then I don't have to engage with him or worry about him destroying my house.

There is a play date tomorrow with my MOPS friends. I don't want to go. I am afraid that my crazy 6-year-old will trample someone's little person and it will be mortifying and we will have to leave abruptly. When I found out it was going to be inside (possibly, because of the rain) instead of outside, that made me not want to go even more. We had a disastrous experience at a birthday party recently (Jeremy was involved in a bottom-of-the-slide pile-up, where one of the smaller kids ended up on the bottom). I apologized profusely but am positive that my kids will never be invited back to this person's house.

And the real problem with this depression-tar is that it poisons everything I read and hear. Someone tonight made a comment about taping my mouth shut so I don't talk too much. I am about 60% certain it was a joke. The person's demeanor, though, didn't read like she was joking. She didn't say "just kidding" afterwards. Or did she and I didn't hear it because I was feeling so self-conscious about that one defect of mine that I hate the most--I chatter on incessantly.

So I spent the rest of the night trying to be as quiet as possible. I don't want to carry on a reputation as the one who must monopolize a conversation. I don't want to talk about my depression simply because it's exhausting to fight it every day. I don't wake up and hit the floor running. I wake up hoping I can stay in bed for another hour because we have no place to be. I wake up crabby with my kids. I wake up feeling overwhelmed with the clutter in my home that I can't seem to manage well.

I had another friend say she felt like she was responsible for my feelings. I assure you, she's not. The only person responsible for how I'm feeling is me. I don't want anyone thinking they're responsible for helping me because I think I'm at the point where only professional intervention is going to help me. I don't want to burden people who are living happy lives, with happy families. I don't want to worry that if they ask me how I'm doing I'm going to offload some of the tar. I don't want to and trust me, if I had a friend like that, I would slowly stop reaching out to her, too.

I get exhausted just thinking about it.

I don't know what the answer is. I wish I could say this was just related to my cycle, but when it's going on 3 out of the 4 weeks of the month, that's not cycle-related. That's just depression.

This is not to say there aren't brief periods (and I do mean brief) of relief. I can generally "put on a face" for about 1-2 hours. After that, it becomes too much. I can have small periods of respite where I'm able to chase Doug or tickle Bekah or joke with the kids, but even those small periods are exhausting.

So yeah, I haven't blogged because this is what it looks like between my ears 24/7. I would love to shut off my brain for like, a day, so that I could just not be aware of or think about it. (Even when I'm sleeping, I'm having dreams where people are being critical of me. That's a bit neurotic.) I would love to be able to snap myself out of this for a long period of time. Heck, for like 3-4 hours.

I guess I hope that my readers reading this will escape tar-free. Those who are feeling the same way, I hope you know you are not alone. The message in my head is that this too shall pass. There's nothing more definitive or even a general timeline, but I'm hoping it's true. And if it's true for me, then it's true for you, too.

Battle Royale

I wasn't thinking that I would write tonight. I finished a book and started and (just) finished another one. I have discovered YA Fiction and really enjoy it a lot. I wanted to read Divergent for a while but couldn't manage to get to the library. Luckily, I have friends that love to read and one of them leant me the book. 

But what I really want to talk about is the day I had. It was rough. And I'm going to talk about it by going back in time a bit. 

I started working with a personal trainer just before the start of January. It has been one of the best investments I've made in myself. I love my trainer and love working with her. 

The one fly in the ointment was my love affair with sugar. 

As you may recall, it's been mostly an abusive, ugly, co-dependent relationship. There is little that is beneficial and yet I haven't been able to quit it. 

In February, I attended a Wildtree workshop at a friend's house. There were some ladies there from MOPS that I had seen but not gotten to know. I struck up a conversation with one of my tablemates. We'll call her Bre (because that's her name). 

I'm going to go out on a limb and say we hit it off right away. She is a lovely woman and I highly recommend getting to know her if you don't already. She is funny and sharp-witted and kind. 

She sent me a FB request that night. I happened to be on FB at almost that exact moment and accepted her request without hesitation. She sent me a message worrying that it was too soon but then she was relieved to see I accepted the request so quickly. 

Over the next few weeks, I saw that she was doing a sugar fast. This piqued my interest and I started to root for her. A couple of weeks later, when her fast was over, she admitted that while she had success during the fast, she spent the two weeks post-fast having dessert every night. 

I have had many false starts with accountability partners over the past several years. I don't know why, but I thought I would ask Bre if she would like to give it a try. (As an aside, I had a huge anxiety attack just writing the message to her. She and I still can't figure out why.)

We agreed on ground rules. We were going to allow ourselves two desserts a week. She was going to have a piece of dark chocolate every afternoon. I opted out of that because I knew I would lack total self-control. 

In the beginning we checked in almost every day. The dessert nights don't have to be the same every week but for me they usually fall on Sunday and Friday nights. In between, we battled with the enemy-sugar-pretty regularly. 

I tell ya what, we didn't know each other very well before that party but we got to know each other quick. It seems like it's the bonding that would happen with soldiers in a bunker. You become close because you are both fighting a mutual enemy. 

Some things have happened as a result of this relationship. 

First, I am damn choosy about my desserts. I am not going to have a bag of M&Ms mindlessly while leaving Joseph's. I am going to pick something rich and delicious and enjoyable. 

Second, I do not feel guilty about my dessert. Whether or not my dessert night corresponds to a day I've worked out, I do not feel the slightest twinge of guilt. I sit quietly and enjoy my just reward. 

Those are pretty hard and fast rules for me. There's been a lot of freedom in those rules. 

Here are some of the benefits. 

First, I don't obsess about dessert. I know on what night I'm eating it and I know it's going to be good. I don't worry about that my kids are having birthday cake. I can't vouch for the cake and I don't want to squander a dessert night on a sub-par dessert. (It has happened and it's been very frustrating. So I stopped doing it.)

Second, my portions have shrunk. There was a Sunday when Brian and I decided to have Concrete Mixers from Culver's. I got a large, like always. Two thirds of the way through it, I realized I didn't need a large anymore. The next week we got mediums. From the beginning, one of the dessert nights was 2 chocolate-covered cannoli from Joseph's. Just a few weeks ago, I realized I don't need 2. One is enough. 

Third, (and here comes today's battle), I've come to realize that sugar is not the answer to my problems today. 

Last night, Jeremy started running a fever. This hasn't happened in at least two years. This week is one of the most hectic of my life. Lots of non-negotiable meetings and appointments. I do not have time for a fever. 

I didn't want to take him to the doctor. I was afraid as was the case with Bekah in December, that I would take him in before the infection was really showing and would have to take him back. At $20/visit (copay), not an attractive option. 

The problem was that if he needed antibiotics, I wanted to have him start ASAP. So reluctantly we went to the doctor. 

Ugh. Just ugh. 

You know it's a problem when the receptionists recognize your son as the one who (previously) ran away and was discovered in the OB/GYN part of the floor. Doug is a crazy man when it comes to escaping, so I had to wrestle him while trying to pay the copay. Then I had to monitor his movement in the waiting room, exam room, bathroom and elevator. He broke out of the exam room twice and the bathroom once. (I am beyond grateful that all of the doors in our home have doorknobs and he can't work them quite yet.) 

Meanwhile, I found out that Jeremy has a virus. Fluids, Motrin/Tylenol, rest, don't share cups. Sure, because that's the week I have planned. A rest/relax week. 

Double ugh. 

Then we had to go to Jewel. Because even though I was there the day before, I forgot to purchase milk and lettuce for our BLT sandwiches. So I had to take three people through Jewel. 

Needless to say, by the time I hit Jewel's doors, I was ready to pitch it all, buy a dozen donuts and go to town. I would have normally reached out to Bre but was too busy taming the circus. So instead I tried to take a deep breath. I thought about whether or not the dozen donuts would solve anything. I decided they wouldn't. I knew I would awake from my sugar haze in a morass of self-loathing. There's no need for that. 

Months of preparation, of texts being traded with a stranger-turned-ally, of my husband's gentle "did you talk to Bre about that?" helped me walk by the donut case and on home. 

I wish I could say the rest of the day was red-letter, I had a party for myself and rode the feeling until Brian got home. 

No such luck. 

The van dinged at me that it needed gas (a day and a half before I thought it would). I ended up buying a frozen pizza at Jewel (it's the second I've bought in a year a half, but still felt like a fail). Jeremy was so miserable and yet didn't want to take Motrin or Tylenol. Doug got no nap because the appointment was at 1:35 PM. I forgot to change his diaper and he got a bad rash. 

In short, I felt flat and defeated in the face of a victory. The point is, though, it was still a victory. I didn't drown my flat feelings in sugar. I didn't check out by snoozing off a binge. I showed my kids that sugar is not the answer to a bad day. 

I don't feel like it was a major strategic victory, but at least I didn't lose any ground. And that's something. 

Movin' On Up....

I haven't written about this subject because I felt bad. Then I realized I have no reason to feel bad and maybe talking about it will help someone.

About a year and a half ago, I got involved in playgroup through a friend at Bekah's preschool. It was a lot of fun and helped me make some great connections. We were all Christians and so the inevitable "where do you go to church" conversation came up. I found out that most of the ladies had, at one point in time, attended the same church. Many had left and were searching for new congregations to join.

I invited them to visit our church, The Chapel. It's a multi-campus church, similar to but smaller than Willow Creek. We started attending just after we moved out to Crystal Lake about six years ago. The Barrington campus (TCB for short) opened around that time and we dove in.

We have loved attending the church. We participated in a few small groups, have had all of our children dedicated there and most importantly, Brian came to Christ at TCB. It holds a lot of special memories for us.

The problem is that we are in Crystal Lake and Barrington is about 25-30 minutes away. That means that it's quite a hike on a Sunday morning. Jeremy and Bekah have made many friends there, but they all live in the area around the church. This has made it impossible to do play dates, to get to know the friends or their parents better, to do family get-togethers, etc., etc.

So last year, when I recommended my church, I did so half-heartedly. I think it's worth the drive, but it has severely limited our involvement in the church. We can attend on Sunday mornings and that's pretty much it. Brian works in Northbrook and doesn't get home until around 6 PM. That means, if there is a mid-week service or some event on the weekend, it's nearly impossible for us to eat dinner and make it by the time the event starts. Plus, we have to add on the half-hour commute to the back-end of the event. This usually translates to tired kiddos.

I love my church, but one of the ladies said something that planted a seed for me. She talked about wanting to have a church nearby so that her kids could get involved in the youth group. "Well," I said, "that won't be happening for a few years." Her response made me really stop and think. Realistically, you don't want to find a church for your kids with a great youth group as they are entering middle school. By then, people in the youth group have already known each other and formed relationships. The key is to have the kids there almost from the beginning, so they can form the long-term relationships that will only strengthen in the middle school years.

I hadn't thought of that before. I had a rough go of it regarding youth groups. My childhood church dissolved just before I entered high school. It had been a church plant and so a lot of the people went back to the "mother" church. We did not. We started a quest for a new church. It was awkward, trying to insert myself into groups where the kids had grown up knowing each other. They didn't exclude me on purpose but they were just closer by default and so it made it weird.

From that point on, I feel like God started working on me about switching churches. I might have had a conversation about it with Brian, but my memory is a little blank there. Mostly I prayed about it.

I also joined MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) at the Evangelical Free Church of Crystal Lake. I had heard fantastic things about it from a mom and daughter who were involved there. I decided though I knew only 1 person joining, I would give it a try.

It has been an amazing experience!! I fell right into things with both my table-mates and the MOPS group as a whole. I had done a Bible study at the church last summer, so I knew faces but not names and had no real relationship with anyone.

Meanwhile, we had been meeting with a small group but it started to unravel. Jeremy was the main problem. We had not started him on medication yet and so he got very overwhelmed being in our friends basement with all the other kids. He was pushing a lot, scratched one of the kids and tackled another. Usually our nights ended with me in tears and Brian taking him out to our van. Though we loved the other families, it became an exercise in futility for us. We decided, even after changing the night we met, that we would stop attending. It was a tough decision to make but absolutely the right one for our family.

I decided to step up and start serving on the steering committee for MOPS. I had a great conversation with the Director of Women's Ministries at Chick-fil-A one morning. I told her I was feeling led to bring our family over to the E Free church. She got excited and said, "do it," but then corrected herself and said to pray about it and let my husband lead us there. She did say it was okay to have a conversation with him about it and so I did.

I let him know that I was lonely at TCB. I have good friends there but geography makes it tough to get together. The kids aren't seeing anyone at church that they see at school (or anywhere else nearby) on a regular basis. What happens when they get to youth group? Are we going to want to drive them back and forth midweek? It's also an economical issue. Gas is expensive and it's tough to think about driving an hour (round trip) to church every Sunday. It's tough to not know anyone in our neighborhood that goes to our church.

He listened and nodded and agreed with me. We decided that we didn't need to make a quick transition. We serve in the children's ministry once a month. The summer is a tough time to fill spots. We wanted to finish out the season of serving and not leave our leader in a tough spot.

Further, we weren't running from anything--conflict, people, controversy, bad doctrine. There was nothing that happened at the Chapel that made us feel like we needed to make a hasty exit. The teaching is solid, we love our pastors, we enjoy the children's program, we have great friends that we have made there.

It's just not in our neighborhood. It's not really our community because we are so far (physically) removed from it.

I have to say, I was initially excited about this decision. I was glad to be closer to home, I was glad to see familiar faces and have a home church. Now I feel flat about it and I can't figure it out. I know it's the right church for us and I love it, love the pastors, love the teaching, everything.

I have decided not to trust my feelings for right now. I know that feelings are fleeting and not always the truth. I will continue to talk to God about it and see what he has to say about all of it. I am very glad, though, that Brian is comfortable there and the kids are happy. Those are bigger deals than how I am feeling.

So I'm gonna go with that for now.