seeing what i see

bumble is in sixth grade now. last year, at the end of fifth grade, his teachers finally convinced the principal to bring in the school psychologist to have him evaluated. i had been saying for years and years that i think there is something wrong, that he is slower than he needs to be, that this attitude of "he'll eventually catch up" wasn't working. something needed to be done, but it took all the way until fifth grade to finally have them run all their tests and analyze all of his work to make their determination, to make their diagnosis of his issues. their official diagnosis that, without which, he didn't qualify for the extra help he sorely needed.

so finally, after tests and meetings and having people literally follow him around all day to see how he did in class, how he interacted with his peers, how he took his tests, the word from on high was passed down. beyond his speech delays (which he was already receiving therapy for) and his motor skill delays (which were being addressed), they determined that he had phonological dyslexia. so he can't read because he can't sound out words because he doesn't hear them correctly. and if you say the words to him, he can't repeat them because he has so many pronunciation issues because of his speech delays. it's a sloppy mess of problems that were finally going to be addressed and he would get the help he sorely needed.

not that they thought they could get him up to grade level for years and years. it was five years that they let these issues go untreated, so it would be another three, or four, or five, until he was able to read and work at the level of his peers. which shouldn't be so much of a problem because now he qualified for extra help! so instead of doing the reading work the rest of the class was doing, he was reading other text that was on his level! and instead of trying to keep up with the spelling words that his peers had to learn, he had his own list that was phonologically selected to help his learn "sound chunks!"

except there was certain work he had to complete with the rest of his class. he had to learn the definitions of the same vocabulary words, for instance. words that correlated to a story the rest of the class worked on, but not him because the story was above his level. so he had to struggle to learn the words as he didn't have the benefit of context clues to help him memorize the definitions.

and yet there is hope, finally. because i was listened to, finally. and he is getting help, finally. for all my failings and fears that all of his issues were my fault, i would not stand by without fighting for him. i might not fight for myself, but him, he (like his siblings) are always worth fighting for.

trigger warning

there are certain phrases that i feel have been corrupted, taken over and used again and again so their impact is watered down. or used in a different way than their original intended meaning, so that their present definition has skewed from what has been intended. slang has a way of doing that to words, and i am fully aware that i do it too. one phrase, though, that i wish hadn't been corrupted by the populace is "trigger warning."

now i see that phrase used by those that don't want to offend. or i see those that ask for it's usage so they know the steer clear of certain articles that they might be upset by because it is filled with different opinions than their own. but that's not how it's meant to be used. it is not a phrase that is supposed to help those pushing a completely politically correct agenda. it is not to be used lightly, placed at the beginning of any article that might offend or upset. there is nothing wrong with getting upset about things, especially if it leads to a discussion on differences. or if it highlights a point of view that was previously unknown to a person. sometimes we live too much in our own safe sphere, never venturing out to explore other viewpoints or dissenting opinions. how can we changed and grow and understand each other if we only ever surround ourselves with those like us?

but that is not the point of this post. the point of this post is how upsetting i find it that the people who need the protection that phrase provides aren't getting it. but then, that also bleeds into a larger view on the corruption of mental illness and its descriptors. people use the word "depressed" all the time to mean sad, but that word means so much more than that. i've heard people describe others with the term "bipolar," when they really mean that someone is moody or changes their mind a lot. people sometimes say they think their kids have "ADHD," even though their child is just showing the normal signs of being a kid. all these phrases, tossed around so lightly, are actually medical terms, diagnoses and diseases, and the people who have these illness (as determined by their doctor) probably don't appreciate what could be construed as the belittling of their difficulties.

(i will not say i speak for the community as a whole, i only speak for myself)

and so stories and articles with the phrase "trigger warning" don't use it to signify that they are posting something controversial, they use it as a true warning, and follow that phrase with a short description of why the follow might be a trigger for some. the warning may explain that the piece could talk about self harm or suicide or abuse of alcohol, and those that also struggle with the problem should be aware. not everyone that self harms needs to worry about reading an article on dangers of cutting, but there are some that might read it and think that it sounds like a pretty good idea. so instead of showing the possible dangers, the article would inspire those to begin again. hence the need for a warning, because some people need to be more careful than others about what they read or see or do. and maybe one day they'll get to a point where it doesn't matter, that they are strong enough read things like that without backsliding into a bad place. but then there are those that are still at the beginning of their journey, or are having a hard time, or it is just a bad moment, and then they need those warnings so they don't accidentally fall deeper into the pit.

i am all for not offending others, but a line must be drawn between being unoffensive and being ridiculous. people also must realize, though, that there are so many other views than their own, and people are fighting struggles with demons that others don't even know exist. and if we can help those that need help, or even just make their fight easier in some small way, why is that a bad thing? in the end, i guess i just wish we could take back the meaning of things, use words as they were originally intended, until we don't need those words anymore.

still alive

"we do what we must, because we can, for the good of all of us..."

i think i might have talked about my views on responsibility here once or twice before. if not, there's something in my "dead letter file" that just never got posted. it's a topic i think about often. about how sometimes my personal views on responsibility and requirements and being an adult differ slightly from those i know.

i believe that life is made up of choices. i believe that we need to stand by the choices we made. i also believe that once made, you can't just go around changing your mind all willy-nilly, that wouldn't exactly be honorable. if you did that often enough, people would be begin to doubt your word. or your convictions. so if you make choices, stick with them, stick up for them, stand by them, and follow through with them.

that doesn't mean that you can't change your mind down the road. but, personally at least, it does mean that you should have some reason for your flip-flop in attitude or behavior. and i know that it seems lately people have the opinion that it shouldn't matter what others think of how you live your life, you should do you and not worry about them. and that is fine in theory, but if that is how you live your whole life, then people won't  think that they can depend upon you when they need to, that you're only out for yourself. and then, when the day comes that you might need to depend upon someone else, there won't be anyone else there.

also, there are times where i believe the appropriate course of action might be counter to your personal wishes, if it means helping out the greater good. sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do, if it means that we can help keep the peace or do good for others or help in a situation that no one else can help in. and it doesn't mean we need to like being selfless in these situations, it just means we need to keep our complaining to ourselves and pitch in once in a while for the greater good. that is, by the way, my personal definition of being an adult, doing things you might not want to do just because it really is the right thing to do. and no, i don't mean you should bend your convictions to help someone, there are lines that need to be drawn, just draw them in pencil in case you ever want to change them down the road.

it is a careful balancing act, though, that we must do, between helping people out and helping ourselves. sometimes the choices are easy, but sometimes to help and put others first means we put ourselves last. i am a fan of this approach, because i believe that people are inherently good, and when down the road you need a hand, those you helped with likely return the favor. it doesn't always happen, and i have been burnt by those that i've helped in the past. there have been a few that have realized my giving nature and asked too much. and i, being me, never said no until it was past the point of stopping.

still, i try to see the good in all, and help out where i can. i might not like it. certain times and in certain cases, i flat out hate it, but i still do what i think i must do because i want to be helpful. or because i know there isn't anyone else that can step in. or, in a larger picture, i am following through on decisions i made ages ago, decisions that i have come to regret immensely, but i stand by my choices and will do what i must do because i feel i have to. because if not me, then who?

not like you

so it's been a few weeks since i've posted anything here. we are still trying to get back into the swing of school and scouts and sports. plus last christmas it was decided that taking a family vacation during the fourth week of school would be a lovely idea, so once we were finally getting used to our routines, we took a break and now have to embrace them again.

i've also had a lot on my mind, things i've been working through, things i want to share here. it's the thoughts i have that pop up every year around this time, when our family schedule changes. it takes almost all school year for things to settle and everyone to accept their roles and duties. and then school ends and summer starts and all the routines and schedules and set daily plans go out the window in bits and pieces, until we find ourselves at the end of summer and the beginning of a new school year and we have to start all over again.

i don't mind the starting over again, i like routines and schedules, and my kids really thrive on knowing what comes next and what is expected of them and the plans we have for the day and week ahead. the part that throws me for a loop every year is that the school year also includes scouts and sports and all the other activities that my kids are involved in. all summer i can luxuriate in my agoraphobia, but at the end of august i am expected to be an adult and mother and go to meetings and practices and interact with other adults. and that is when, unfortunately, my differences always shine.

i don't like talking to people, i am terrible at small talk, and i always feel like i have nothing to say. but small talk is almost a requirement at these kid events, or it used to be until the age of smart phones and my new ability to stare at a small screen and pretend i am busy. i also have a "bit" of social anxiety, where as soon as i leave my house i start to panic. once we finally get to where we are going, the kids jump out of the car to join their peers and leave me milling around with the rest of the adults. those adults who i am convinced are laughing and pointing and talking about me, secretly belittling me because they know i am not like them, that i don't belong, that i am different and not the same and not worth being here. and so the panic sets in, and invariably i feel like crying or vomiting or hiding in my car, or all three if i happen to be at a boy scout meeting. so then, to pass the time and look busy and give me something else to focus on, i live tweet my panic attack, describing my cold sweats and nausea and racing heart and fear (it's a good time, you should follow me). and eventually, it ends, the kids come back, we get in the car and go home, and in the comfort of my safe space i am better.

all of my issues about leaving my house are tied together, and to fix one i must work on fixing them all. i know i would have an easier time if i was better at small talk, i would feel less different if i could hold a conversation with the other parents. because i know that they really aren't standing around making fun of me, they probably don't even notice me, but because i don't interact with them, my mind jumps to worse case scenario. the problem i have is that (especially at scouts, which is the worst) i don't have anything to talk about with the other parents. our interests are too different to be able to talk week after week about anything more than the weather. beyond the activity at hand, our kids don't even have much in common, so after all these years of seeing the same people, i have run out of ways to talk about the weather.

also, the simple fact that i struggle with anxiety sets me apart. but how to explain that i am not stuck up or bitchy but flat out scared is the reason i sit quietly and don't say anything? especially when in so many places the discussion of mental illness is taboo? last tuesday, while sitting around with the other parents, bumble ran over to me and said that i should try to make friends. it kills me that even he realizes i am not like the other moms. he has enough he is dealing with and has to personally overcome without being the kid with the weird mother, but i am at a lost with what to do.

on the internet it is easy to find people who share your interests, who are similar to you and with whom you can talk to about anything. in real life, in the more conservative circles i am forced to travel, it is so much harder. i don't watch sitcoms or care about the latest celebrity scandal or agree that this country was really founded on christian principles and the bible should dictate the laws we pass. i would much rather talk about superheros and space exploration and environmental conservation and the best way to build pneumatic steampunk fairy wings. but finding physical people to talk about stuff like that with, instead of just digital, has proven impossible. so i will continue to sit quietly and stare at my phone and try to slow my racing heart, and hope that, even if others do think i'm different, they don't hold it against my kids.

sackcloth and ashes

so all my kids are in school full time. and i am happy. my house is quiet, it gives me time to think. i know i have my mornings to finish all the things i didn't get done the night before, which has helped to ease the bedtime routine. i have flipped chores around, instead of washing the dinner dishes, i leave them to soak in the sink for the morning, which leaves me more time to focus on the kids and making sure is done and books are read and showers are taken and hair is brushed. there is enough to do at night without worrying about getting my house to tip top shape.

and i am developing a morning routine that i like and works for me. we get up and get breakfast. while they eat i make fish's lunch (the boys pack for themselves), and then it's getting dressed and ready and getting out the door on time. i walk my dear fish, which i totally count as my daily exercise, and then i come home and clean the house. it still leaves me with most of the day to relax and enjoy the peace and quiet.

the problem is that i am getting many comments about how people think i must feel, which is making me wonder if how i really feel is wrong. everyone i've talked to was surprised that i wasn't in tears on the first day all the kids were in school. that i don't miss them terribly and am all sorts of upset and wonder what to do with myself all day.

does not being upset make me a bad mother? does it mean that i love them less then those that are inconsolable? is there a standard level of grief that i am not reaching, a socially acceptable amount of tears that i should have shed by now?

because i like to think that i do love my kids, in my own quiet way. i provide for them and encourage them and help ready them for the outside world. i feel like going to school is just the next logical step on their journey to independence. if this is the normal and expected direction they are to be going in and growing in, why should i be upset? i feel like i should count the lack of tears on all our faces as a victory in preparing them to face the challenges of the world at large.

and yet some of what i have read on facebook during this back to school time has made me feel like less of a mother, like i didn't reach some predetermined standard of grief. because i didn't hit that level of sadness, my love for my children must not be as real or as true or as much.

i am me, and when it comes to feelings about things outside myself, i know that for me, the highs are never as high and the lows are never as low as i have seen expressed by others. but that doesn't mean that i don't feel anything at all, it just means that i don't express it. i had to learn not to show emotions, unless i wanted those emotions used against me. i am careful, i am cautious, but i also know that my children know how much and how deeply i love them. i am tired of the social media competitions, i refuse to wear sackcloth and ashes. it's not my style, but that's ok. those who matter know the truth.

three good things

i am a sucker for book stores. i can browse for hours, looking at spines, flipping through pages, a flood of "must read" lists all coming back to me. and yet i know that my pile of to-read at home is big enough that i don't buy anything new. usually don't. unless it's a really good sale, because then it would be almost a crime not to.

one thing i do end up with more often then not, though, is a new journal. for a long while i was writing in them in my scribbly cursive, jotting down fragments of sentences and thoughts and half formed ideas, almost a scratch pad for this mass of words that is my blog. i know i could do that all digitally, but like i prefer holding physical pages to holding an e-reader, i prefer writing with a pen to typing things like this. the only reason i have an online presence is because it's really hard to share words on paper across the miles, unless you're willing to pay for postage.

so over the years i've grown a lovely collection of blank journals. but i stopped writing for a long time, and even those empty pages started stacking up. i felt like i needed to do something with all of them, lest i waste their endless possibilities. and so i started a daily journal of sorts.

somewhere along the line, someone told me (or i read it or just made it up, even though it sounds like it might be true) that to change your outlook on things, you need to focus on the positives in life and not the negatives. the negatives in my life have built up over the years, drowning out the positives. and being who i am and what i am, i would focus on them. obsessively. i would ponder on past mistakes, years old, wondering if any still thought i was a terrible person for all the things i did half a life ago. or i thought about all the things that i would have done differently, all the things that i did wrong, all the things i didn't do and then inaction turned out to be the wrong course. the random thoughts that would keep me up at night for hours, that i couldn't shut out of my brain.

so i've decided to focus on the positives. again, not sure where i came up with the idea exactly, i decided that no matter how crappy the day there were at least three good things that happened. then i would write those three good things down. so instead of my journals chronicling my angst and worry and fears, i would write down the good that happened in hopes that those things would be all i would remember.

i started on new years day, and am now more than halfway through the year. being me, i didn't keep it up everyday. there have been many times where i would sit down and try to remember my past week, thinking on all i did on those days, trying to come up with the good things to write and remember. and there have been a few occasions where i couldn't come up with three things, a few days only have two. i'm really not sure this little project has helped me much, but i do know that down the line, when the years wash some memories away, i will be able to pick up this particular journal and have good memories come back. so it's hard to remember, and some days are a struggle to come up with items to write, but i know my future self will thank me, somewhere down the line.

something like normal

my social anxiety makes me worry. such is the nature of anxiety. but specifically, i worry about what other people think. i worry about being normal, i worry about whether people will see me as weird or different or strange. i worry that my reactions to events won't be quite right, so i hold myself back and don't react. and then i worry that not reacting isn't quite right and that people are judging me any way. and so sometimes i take cues from my peers and mirror their reactions, even if it goes in the opposite direction to my own.

and then, of course, i worry that people can see through me. can see that i am just acting, just pretending to be like they are, that they know that i am not. that all of this is a facade and that i am not like them. and so i worry that they are judging me, that every one is talking about me behind my back, laughing and pointing and saying terrible things.

so i avoid as much social interaction as possible, because all of that worry is stressful. all of that pretending and then second guessing every action taken leaches all the fun out of any and every activity. i can't relax when i am out, because if i let myself relax then i worry that i will let my crazy show. of course then i worry that by not participating in activities and putting myself out there socially, people are still talking and judging and laughing.

so yes, most days and places, no matter what i do or say or how i act, i feel not quite right, not in line with the expectations of others. and even though a much more rational part of my brain tells me that i shouldn't care about the opinions of others, that i should live for myself, that i should do what makes me happy, i can't. i just want to be normal.

all of this probably stems from me living in my own head way too much, and that most of those that i interact with don't notice me at all, let alone think of me much, that i really am mostly invisible and unimportant to others. still, i worry that people will see me as a fraud. that they will know i have no idea what i'm doing and am secretly panicking constantly. and that, because i am a ball of stress wound too tight, i would much rather go home.

on edge

i am trying to keep everything straight this week. school starts, and football is in full swing. this weekend there is a big party we are not only attending, but i agreed to help set up and make food for. plus i have house guests to deal with. one has been here for a week and will be here for another week or so, and two more come this weekend for the aforementioned party.

needless to say, i am a bit stressed. i am afraid i am going to miss something. i am afraid something is going to remain undone and i will let people down. there are so many moving parts and pieces this week, and it falls to me to get everyone in place backstage so when the curtain goes up, we are all ready.

the other side of this, the more crazy less rational side (and isn't there always?) is that i think i am not as stressed and upset about certain things as i should be. i like my home a certain way, i have routines and schedules in place, but i also try to be an accommodating hostess. and so, with house guests, i have deferred to their preferences and let some things go so i know they are comfortable. which has left me uncomfortable and stressed out and unable to fall back on my routines to get me through. so i am personally upset. but on friday, my dear fish goes to kindergarten all day, and i am ready to push her out the door. and i am more than ready for the boys to go back.

and so it stands as this: friends and beloved family come for a visit and stay causes me panic, but a milestone that proves all of my children are growing up and will soon leave me makes me feel next to nothing. and because i think that this is not how things should be, i feel the need to pretend that i welcome all my guests with open arms while acting visibly upset at my children heading off to school.

i know i am me, that nobody else is me, and that if this is how i react to my life, i shouldn't feel bad about it. but this is just another one of those times where i feel less than normal, and that my reaction to things isn't quite right, and over so many years i have been trained to feel bad about my choices and my feelings, especially when they don't fall in line with those of my peers. part of me knows that i shouldn't feel bad about how i feel, but i also know that i'm not there yet. society's pressures are still too strong, and i am not like the brave women i've seen who don't care what others think. because honestly, i do care. i want so much to be liked and accepted that there are times i am willing to go against who i am if it gets me closer to who i think people want me to be. maybe one day i will be strong and brave and will find my tribe who will support me no matter what i do or say. right now, though, i still feel like i need to hide all this crazy.

the weird family

as summer winds down, i have been taking an inventory of things i have learned over the summer. some of the basics aren't really new, such as sometimes my boys are super amazing together and sometimes they're like rabid dogs at each others' throats. i have seen how fish can play well with other kids, but only on her terms; when she is done playing and wants to be left alone, she is loud enough and big enough that she can get her way.

other things, though, are truths i suppose i should have realized long ago but have been blind to. this summer, and all of the activities we've participated in, have reinforced those truths. or truth, because there is one that is all encompassing and umbrellas all small nuggets of wisdom. it is that my family is strange.

now yes, i know, in this day it is kind of hip to say that everyone should be their own unique person and kids should be themselves and be proud when they are. still, there are social acceptable norms that a family shouldn't stray too far from, kind of like it's ok to be weird, just not too weird. my family blast through those lines without looking back.

like when we all go to play at the playground for some outside family fun, and it is my kids that are yelling and screaming and carrying on too loudly. and bumble is playing with the very little kids because he doesn't get along well with those of his size. and fish is jumping off of things and crying that she hurt herself, and when i call her over to see if she's ok the first thing out of her mouth is she wants to know if she's in trouble. and lumpy making everything into a gun or weapon or some war game, making very specific references to violent video games he probably shouldn't know. and all the while i am getting judgy side-eye from all the other parents for ruining their peaceful day out.

it's also fun to get confirmation your kids are the weird ones when they go to scout camp by themselves. and one doesn't play so well with others because they are a very strict rule follower, and they get into fights with other kids who want to play and maybe don't follow the rules to the letter, and that's not ok by them. and then the other one, who has known social issues, has so much trouble interacting with the other boys that the leaders have to sit everyone down and explain that bullying is not ok.

i already have issues going out and interacting with others in public, i would be very happy never to have to leave the house. the fact that my kids are the weird kids does not make going out any easier. i don't really help myself though, because i am always overly prepared, with a giant purse filled with just in case supplies, and i am terrible at small talk so i don't try to make any, and when i do end up talking i trail off mid-sentence or talk too fast and too loud.

so yeah, all the interactions we've had this summer has just confirmed what i always feared, that my family is the weird family. and so much these days says to revel in your strangeness and embrace your differences, but it's hard when you live in a conservative area and being different isn't always celebrated. at least i know it'll never be boring around here.

controlling the volume of my voice

one thing that i have always appreciated is silence. it's not that i have ever taken it for granted and then am reminded of how awesome it is when the kids are away (like now). no, i have always loved the quiet. as soon as they go to bed, i shut off the tv and just sit. even when my hubby and i are up watching shows together, and we stay up much later than we should to watch just one more show on netflix, even then when he wanders off to bed and wants me to join him, i will sit in the silence of my living room for a little.

too much noise has always been too much for me. when the world around me gets too loud, the voices and thoughts that are constant in my head start turning up the volume. then everything feels like it's shouting and i can't reason or think or function. i feel swallowed up by the noise. i need quiet to breath and to think and to calm myself. because if things stay too loud for too long, i feel like i get wound up, going around and around, tighter and tighter until i can't breath. and then i feel like screaming.

so yes, i appreciate the quiet, i enjoy the silence, i need to be noise free everyday to recharge and regroup. but in this house, with three boisterous children? silence doesn't happen. not very often during their waking hours at least. as they all get older, they have gotten louder. they shout over each other, vying for my attention, until they are literally yelling at me and i can't process what they are saying. so they yell louder, thinking that turning up the volume will help with understanding.

i am trying my very best to get them all to understand that being loudest doesn't mean that you win, it's the one with the best reasoned argument that gets the point. also that taking turns speaking means that everyone can be heard, and it doesn't matter if you were the first one talking, and it really doesn't matter if you get the last word in. most days, though, these finer points of debate are lost on my children.

and so they talk loudly at me, as excited kids do, and they talk very loudly at each other, to make sure they are heard. then, so that i know i am heard, i talk louder over them all to get them to be quiet. there have been many days when my husband has come home from work and heard me yelling at them for quiet, i can only imagine what my neighbors think.

today i go and pick up all my kids from their grandparents, with whom they stayed this last week. and though it might make me sound like a terrible mother, i would love to leave them there for a few more days. i don't mind physically taking care of them anymore, making dinner everyday and making sure they've bathed, picking up after them and laundry and driving them places and all the other million things that make up my day. no, all of that gives me something to do. i am loathe to get them because i will miss the quiet.

guilt and shame and selfishness and motherhood

i could write pages and pages on guilt and shame. i feel guilty over everything, whether it was my fault, whether it was beyond my control or not, whether i even actually did anything or not. and when my anxiety flares up so much that i am frozen in place and can't actually do anything, then i remember things that i did in my past to feel guilty about, or i feel guilty about all the terrible thoughts running through my head, even when i don't act on them or share them with anybody else.

and the shame, oh the shame. i feel shame for feeling guilty about all the things that i know in my rational mind i shouldn't feel guilty about. i feel shame about who i am on the most basic level, so much some days that i can barely function. and so starts the cycle over again.

now, if i had another life, i don't know if i would still feel like this all the time, if i would always find some crazy, not my fault, thing to feel guilty about, but i am a mother, a job with guilty built right in. any failing on my children's part i take as my personal failing, and so i feel guilty for it. every time i failed to protect them (even if i tried and they didn't listen), i feel guilty. all the times that i feel like i should be doing something with them, something more helpful or enriching or pinterest inspired perfect, and i'm not, i feel guilty.

and then comes the shame of feeling that i've failed them. or that i can't be the mom that they deserve. or that if i was somehow magically better or different or not me, they'd all have the perfect life. and so i feel ashamed of just being me, even if that's all i can be.

this is all to say that, because of all my shame and guilt and random feeling bad for not being enough, i don't take much for myself. like ever. even the times i actually need a break from them, some time away to recharge, or really need to buy myself things to replace falling apart shoes or clothes worn through, i don't. i feel like i have such little time to give them, with taking care of this home and running the household and trying to find time to spend with each of them individually, that i don't have any time left over to take for myself. (unless i forgo sleep, but running days on little sleep with no way to catch up doesn't make things better.) and i don't go out and buy things for myself, even when my hubby says i should, because for every shirt i pick out for me, i think of all the other things i could be doing with that money. i know kids want things, they are kids and they want all the things, but as their mom i want to try to give them all the things that i can.

and so most days it all comes down to the fact that i feel guilty for not giving them everything i think they deserve and in the same breath feeling guilty for not taking better care of myself so i can take better care of them. i know i need to be selfish, but taking time to relax and then feeling guilty the whole time isn't terribly relaxing. i'm still striving to find a balance, something that works for everyone that i can feel good about. some days i feel closer to it than others, and i think i'll know when i achieve it. i've been a mommy for almost 12 years, maybe in another 12 i'll find it.

droning on and on and on

let me preface this post with the fact that i love my kids, i really do, and hopefully no matter what i say that fact remains unquestionable. there are many facts, many truths, that pop in my life, some which seem contradictory. such as the fact i love my kids, but there are days that i can't stand them. that they are a joy to be around, but i really don't want to be around them all the time. that i know they love each other and miss each other when they are apart, but they fight like cats and dogs when they are together, and i am surprised there hasn't been more blood spilled (literally) when they do get into scrapes.

but what is true for all relationships is true for a mother and child bond, that i can love them more than anything but that doesn't mean that i love everything about them. such is another one of those tricky truths that i am working hard to accept. and it doesn't mean that i want to change them, because they are not clones of me, they are their own people with their own personalities. still, they have these little quirks that drive me up the wall, such as monologging.

seriously, they monolog like super villans, talking on and on with no pause, whether i am listening or not, whether i am trying to pay attention to something else or not, about whatever they are doing or thinking. and i've told them before that i don't care, i've told them before that i am busy and if they want to talk to me they need to say "excuse me" and wait for my attention, and i've told them that if they want to narrate their own life, they should try to do it quietly in their heads and not bother other people. or write everything down on a stupid blog on the internet.

really, i haven't said most of those things to my lovely children, even though i've thought them, because i have enough guilt from all the things without adding that i yell at them to shut up. i have become adept at tuning them out though, because all the rambling and senseless talking drains me. i can't handle all the noise, the way that i recharge is in silence. too much sound overwhelms me, it's really one of the main reasons that i don't like going out places or doing things with other people. i have so much going on in my own head, too much sound on the outside makes the voices on the inside shout that much louder. and then i'm done, all panicked and crying in a corner, social anxiety for the win.

so yes, i love my children. and i do love that they are creative and imaginative and expressive and clever. i want to know what is going on in their heads and in their lives, what their opinions are and views on life, just some days i'd like the cliff notes version.

starting again

i am floating along and feel like life is missing something but i'm not honestly sure what that is. and so i've decided to bring back into my life some of the things i used to have and use and do, things that gave me a small sense of happiness, so see if that might be what i am lacking. so i'm reading more and writing more, and now i've decided to try blogging again. not that it ever made a huge social impact, but this was really all for me anyway.

which is really the point, isn't it? making something now that is for me and about me and from me, which all sounds terribly selfish, but it's important to be selfish sometimes. for so long my life has been lived only in relation to those around me, my hubby and my kids, they took all of my time. in truth, i gave them all of my time, i can't stand back and blame them for not living a life of my own. i let myself be defined by my family. and along the way, i lost myself. but as my children grow older and more self sufficient, i find i have more time on my hands that i can be using to do the things i like to do. though it's been so long, i've kind of lost what those things are. which brings us back to this, rambling on, stream of consciousness style, about whatever pops into my head, whether or not it has anything to do with those who share this roof. because maybe, along the way, it'll help to remind me of who i am, beyond "mom."

all mixed up

things are crazy here, have been crazy here for more than a month. we, i, thrive on routine, and that routine has been thrown out he window. and though i feel like i'm just barely keeping it together, i am mostly doing ok. with, as is usual, some days being better than others.

normally i don't have to worried about losing the normalcy of my days until summer break hits, and the boys are off and wanting to watch cartoons all day. and then i have to feed them every meal and try to reign in their screen time and still get them to do some sort of work so their skills don't totally get lost. but now our nice daily schedule is all thrown off because my dear hubby has been home for more than a month. it's the longest time we've ever spent together with neither of us working, and the bottom line is that it has been a true test of our relationship.

more than a month ago, all the way back in april, he crushed his finger trying to put his ladder away at work. not just broke, the bone in his left pinkie was in about ten pieces in the xray that was taken in the emergency room. if he hadn't been wearing his wedding ring, he probably would have lost his whole hand, which is not the first time that circle of medal has saved his fingers. still, he only broke his littlest finger on his dominant hand (of course he's left-handed), which seems like such a small thing, though over the weeks we have been finding out how big on an injury is it. he has a very manual labor type job, and without his little finger, he can't grip anything with the rest of his hand. for a while, to hold everything straight, there were pins that made an x around the bone and came out through the skin, which he had to be very careful about. we're finally at the point where the pins are out, but now he has to go to physical therapy, because after being forced to hold his finger straight for so long, the joints no longer want to bend.

and so i've had him home with me for many weeks. and he hasn't been working, which has been very tough for him. he's worked since he was 16, and in fact the company he's at he's been with for 14 years, which is a feat for somebody only in their mid-30s. but he doesn't know what to do with himself, and i've tried to entertain him, and we've watched a lot of stupid tv, and he's gotten to play some of his neglected quest games on the xbox, but still i'll be happier and he'll be happier when he's not home quite so much.

also, he finally finished school and graduated. it was nice to not have to work, that he was able to throw everything he had into his finals. though one consisted of hands-on lab work, but his teacher liked him so much he was able to use all of his participation in class to cover the work he wasn't able to do. so he graduated, with highest honors, and because he wasn't working his parents came down for the week to watch him walk across the stage and get his diploma holder. and we had a huge party, more because i wanted to throw a party than he wanted to celebrate, which is when more friends and family came down.

so over the month or so i have been absent from here, i've had a house full of people, i've hosted parties and dinners, i've seen my hubby more in these weeks than i have since christmas, and then of course there have been the normal ups and downs of life with my kids and the dramas of elementary school. i'm actually looking forward to summer break at this point, because then we start a whole new routine, so i don't have to worry about adjusting back to our old one. this is all just another example of how life is crazy and unpredictable. i would have thought i learned that lesson enough by now, but obviously the fates think i needed to be reminded.

just a push

i'm really not good at dealing with people. strangers or acquaintances, people i know or don't know or really should know but can't remember, it doesn't matter who they are, other people scare me and i don't like it. the it being the fact that i'm scared and the fact that people are scary.

the problem is that i am not graceful in social situations. too many times to i find myself out and about, trying to make small talk and having nothing to say. or there are conversations going on around me and i have nothing to add. so i am there, quietly observing, doing my best to blend in with the scenery. or if i do find my courage to actually say something, i usually falter halfway through when i realize that people are actually looking at me and listening to the words that are coming out of my mouth. not that i really enjoy my lonely existence, but i am so much more used to being ignored than having people pay attention. honestly, it's unsettling.

the paradox is that i enjoy going out. i like to people watch and observe from the sidelines. and i'm actually almost comfortable in a small group setting. in fact, i can sometimes handle one on one conversations, especially if i don't have to say anything. as long as i am not the center of attention, i am fine.

i do know this, and try hard to remember it, that i will be ok and enjoy myself if i'm going to be somewhere that to focus is on others. or if i'm going to be with my very close circle of people who understand my issue and jump in to talk for me. the hardest part for me then is the actually getting out and going.

it's like i have trouble just walking through the door, but when i sit down i'm fine. or i will try and get somewhere early, and then i sit in my car for a while, hyperventilating, debating on whether or not it would be better to go in or to just go home and never leave again. of course, when i am done and back in my car at the end of the day, i always wonder what i was so worked up about. and then i make the impossible promise that i will be better next time.

i do try to remember that the world isn't quite as scary as i think it is. and people aren't waiting around just to point and laugh at me. and that if they're paying attention to me, it's because they're actually interested in what i have to say. or even if they're just being polite and paying attention because i was paying attention to them, it doesn't mean they're judging me in their head. i don't know why i am constantly surprised that i am able to have a good time in the company of others, but i am.

all of this, of course, only holds true if i am going anywhere by myself. if i have my hubby or my kids with me, it's a whole different ball game. which, of course, might be the whole reason there is a problem, because i am so out of practice at going out like a grown up. i don't know how to act anymore if i'm not filling the roll of mom wrangling three crazed monkeys. but i'd like a chance at trying to remember, i just need a little push out the door.

i wish i could be brave

being brave and speaking my mind on important topics is hard. especially when i always try to be so careful not to upset or anger people. if i know my thoughts on a subject are different, i do my best to avoid talking about.

yet, there are some things that i feel very strongly about, things that i believe in with all my heart. these are the things that i am trying to teach my children, important values that i want to instill. some are basic, but i realize that some are more controversial.

i know that as we go out in the world, we'll encounter people who are different than us, people come from different backgrounds and hold different beliefs. i like to think that i have a very open mind. as long as it doesn't affect me or my kids, i don't really care what others believe. jesus or budda or the flying spaghetti monster, i feel like you have the right to worship whoever you want. but you don't have the right to tell me who or what to believe in. and if i believe differently, you can't tell me i'm wrong simply because your god tells you that i am. my god is one of compassion and acceptance, of tolerance and love.

it's harder still when we want to be a part of things, join organizations and such, and the benefits for my children seem to outweigh the costs of keeping silent. but then sometimes it feels very wrong to keep quiet, like we are all pretending that nothing is wrong by not talking about it. or everybody assumes we all agree on all things just because we are not as vocal with our beliefs.

i feel so weak, and i wish that i could stand up and tell everybody what i really think. because though they haven't always been talking specifically to me, i know their thoughts and views on most things. especially way back in november, they made it very clear what they believe in and what they think others should believe in too.

i'm afraid, also, that if i do find courage to say something, it won't just be me that loses out, i'm afraid that their retaliation would affect my children. now i don't know for sure that it would happen, or that anything would change, but i'm sure i'd be the talk of their little circle. it's hard enough sometimes to explain the cruelty and unfairness of the world to my boys, but then to try to explain to them that they can't be friends with others simply because their parents are so close minded, i know they wouldn't understand. i had a hard enough time trying to explain what slavery was when it came up in their social studies homework. because when they ask you "why would a person do that to somebody else?" i just didn't have a good answer.

and i guess that's my problem. i don't really have a good answer for any of this. i just want people to be happy and treated fairly. and i can't understand why everybody doesn't agree with that.

cherishing mementos vs. hoarding stuff

at the moment, i am spring cleaning and organizing closets, and i remembered i had this and never posted it. i wrote it last june, when we were moving into the house we're in now. i am still no better about not holding onto things for reason only worthwhile to me...

are you tired of hearing about my moving adventures? yeah, i'm kind of tired of talking about them too. but, the fact is that it is the all consuming entity of my life right now. and, if i don't talk about it nicely like this, i'll probably just start randomly screaming on street corners, holding up signs that say "no more cardboard!" made out of cardboard, of course. because when you're yelling on street corners, it helps to get your point across if you look extra crazy.

my point of this post is that i have lots of stuff. too much stuff by some people's reckoning. but i'm trying to get better about all the random crap i keep. there have been boxes of things that haven't moved into the new house, they went straight to the dump or the donation pile. and there have been boxes that i've opened, and instead of trying to find homes of all contained there-in, i have gotten one of our lovely contractor bags (the 70 gallon kind designed to hold bodies), and filled it with all manner of stuffs.

and sometimes, the boxes are filled with things that i just look at and wonder why they got packed in the first place. those are the easy boxes to deal with, because there's no attatchment to them. it's the other boxes that are harder to figure out. ones that are filled with things that i don't really want, but feel like i need in some way. or it's filled with things that are still perfectly good and in working order, but nobody else wants, so i feel like i need to hold onto it, just in case.

just in case is kind of my downfall. that phrase is what does me in. because there have been boxes filled with old books or toys, or perhaps my wedding decorations from years ago, perfectly fine things that could totally be reused, but nobody else wants. so i think about getting rid of that stuff. and then, of course, i think that maybe tomorrow i'll need it, absolutely have to have it, so i should hold onto it. mind you, i haven't needed any of it in years and years, but tomorrow may be different! i made suddenly need to decorate my yard with frilly paper streamers, or absolutely have to set up a tea party for 20 stuffed bears, whose origins i no longer remember. so i have this burning desire to hold onto things, just in case.

that feeling is honestly easier to overcome than the other side of my problem. because i've become rational enough to understand that if i haven't used it in more than three years, or even gotten it out of the box it's stored in for more than three years, chances are i'm not going to need it. and if some random and crazy "just in case" moment comes up that i absolutely need it, i will go and buy a new version. because the truth is, in real today money, none of it is terribly expensive to replace.

the other side of things are the boxes filled with stuff that i deem irreplaceable. stuff that isn't worth anything to anybody else, but that i feel i must hold onto, lest i forget. they are boxes filled with physical memories. and yet, i'm getting to the point where i realize i don't need to save everything. still, it's very hard to figure out what is worth saving for all of time, and what are things i can let go of. because this is really where my problem lies, i want to save everything, and given the space, i know that i would.

ok, so honestly, my problem is that, even though i don't have the space, i try to save everything. like my closet is filled more with stuff i want to hold onto then clothes for me to wear. and the crazy part is, i am perfectly fine going through my clothes and getting rid of the things i don't use, so that i just enough "nice" outfits to get me through maybe a week.

and i can step back and realize that there is something slightly twisted in that viewpoint. but it's really very hard to get rid of the things you can never replace. like the boxes of drawings and art the boys made me, i have a box for every year that they were in school, starting in preschool. i've also saved all their writing and test and report cards. not that i know what i'll ever do with any of it, because i have a funny feeling they'll never want it. i also, for about twenty years, saved every card, birthday or thank you or congratulations, i ever got. i realized it was a silly thing to do, to save every card, so i stopped, but i still have a whole box from when i was still saving that i just can't bring myself to get rid of. and of course there are my notebooks. two boxes worth. most of them are a testament to my craziness. i finally was able to get rid of a box of disks; 20, filled to capacity with randomness, 3.5 inch diskettes to be precise, and the only real reason i was ok with getting rid of them was because i couldn't find the program i needed to open them anymore.

harder still to part with, but easier to rationalize why i keep them, are all the bits and broken things from all the people i'll never see again. i have a jewelry box filled with odds and ends of broken necklaces and bracelets, many from my grandmother who died years ago, some from friends i'll never see again. the hat from the hospital nursery, and pictures and scribbles and other things, all from my dear niece we lost too soon. and then there is the most random box, with a license plate and an old copy of macbeth and all the bits from high school physics projects and all the photos i took and some i stole from photo albums, all the things that remind me of my brother. and so many other random things from all the people i've lost and are gone forever.

so yes, i suppose that's why i really save all that i do. because i'm afraid to forget. memories are not something i can rely on. they twist and confuse me. my mind plays tricks on me. it's really the part of me that i know is not quite right, the part that can't keep the past straight. but with physical things, it's easier to hold them and remember what really happened.

the outside world is a scary place

confession time, and because this is what keeps running through my head lately:

i don't like people. i don't like talking to people or being around them or having to deal with them in most capacities. i nearly have a panic attack when i have to call the school if the boys are sick. i get all flustered dealing with their doctors or dentists or friends' parents. i struggle to rsvp for parties they get invited to, simply because it means talking to somebody else. someone came into my house recently to explain to me how to use less electricity, part of a process to qualify for help with my bill, and all i could do was stare and nod answers to questions. when i have to go to cub scout functions with lumpy, i do my best to stand in the back and blend in with the wall. not an easy feat when i also have to wrangle fishie, though she gives me the perfect excuse to cut short any interactions with others.

i also don't like kids. well, i don't mean not my kids, though sometimes they are hard to handle, but mostly i don't like other people's kids. i don't know how to deal with them or what to say to them. i don't want to yell at them, i don't know how to discipline them, and i don't want to be accused of being "too friendly" with them. most of them are loud and messy and hyper, and i can barely deal with my own loud, messy, hyper children. at least i know what i can do and say to my own kids to get them to settle down. other kids are a mystery to me, and i will stand quietly by and let them run amok because i don't know what to do and anything i want to say seems to me like i'd be interfering with whatever is going on.

there were times where i used to force myself to go out and about in the world. i hoped that if i had enough contact with random strangers and crowds of people, it would seem less terrifying over time.

it never really worked.

there were also times where i felt so stressed out that i couldn't deal with anyone, and so i wouldn't unless i absolutely had to. i can remember times where i wouldn't leave my house for days, where the only people i would see where my kids and my hubby. i would take the boys (this was long before fishie was born) and do all my grocery shopping at walmart at 2am on a wednesday because the only other people in the store besides us would be the stockers, and they were too busy doing their job to want to make conversation.

the last few jobs that i had were ones where i didn't have coworkers, because then i didn't have to worry about trying to make mindless small talk. customers i can deal with because i help them with what they need and then they leave and i don't ever have to see them again. it's why, if i ever get another job, i'd probably chose to be a register monkey again. there's comfort in knowing that all i have to do is focus on the task at hand and keep my "how can i help you" fake smile plastered on my face.

i wish i could say, after all these years of trying, that it's gotten easier to go out and about in the real world. unfortunately it hasn't. there so many things that i'd like to do, and many more things that i'd like to do with my kids, but i know if i tried to go , i'd just be freaking out the whole time. the boys, at least, are getting older now, so it's ok if we go and they run off to do an activity, and i can sit in the corner and mind their sister. and it's really not so bad if i have another grown up with me. the stress of taking the kids out in public coupled with the stress of being out in public myself is more than i can handle for more than an hour at a time.

that isn't to say that i never go out. or that i actively avoid letting my kids go out. mostly this confession is that i just hate going out. as much as i might complain about the fact that i have days where i don't talk to anyone other than my kids and my hubby, i still prefer it. but i do know how important it is for my children to get out into the world and interact with others. it is my hope that they don't end up like me. and so we go out, to the park and to playground and to other various activities. i might not like being there, but i know my kids do. just, if you see me, and i start acting weird, understand it's not you, it's me. me and my craziness.

compare, contrast, and change... all with a side of guilt

so there's been a lot of talk of change lately. how different people are doing different things, making positive changes in their family's lives. but change is hard, and for every thing worth doing differently, i have what i feel is an equally valid reason as to why i can't change it right now.

there are those that are going totally organic, or making everything from scratch. families that are spending as much time together as possible, or setting up specific times just for family time. those that are getting rid of tvs, and some that are doing arts and crafts together everyday. and then there are those parents that are just trying to yell less and read together more. those that are cleaning and organizing their homes, or volunteering and raising money for good causes.

and then there is me. i compare myself to all these parents and i feel so inadequate. i look at all the changes they're making and the good their doing, and i think how much better off my family would be and how much happier my kids could be if i could just be more like all those other parents.

it's hard enough for me to deal with the day to day without feeling totally overwhelmed. with my dear husband working and going to school, i don't get much help at home. so it falls to me to deal with bumble and all his school works, to find time to give him all the extra help he needs. and of course lumpy needs homework help too, though thankfully he can figure most things out that he brings home himself. and then there is my dear fishie, who is now three and needs all the supervision a normal three year old needs. also and as always, it falls to me to attend to the cleaning and laundry and cooking and shopping.

and so i sit and look around me and wonder why my house is a mess and my kitchen is filled with quick to make processed foods. why, though we have tons of books, i don't have time to sit and read to my kids every day as much as they'd like. the same goes with all the craft supplies that go unused and all the easy, kid friendly recipes that go unmade and all the games we don't sit and play.

so i feel tremendous guilt. i feel like i am somehow failing my kids. that they could be happier or healthier if only i was able to squeeze more into our days, to actually find a way to make all the good changes that it seems everyone else is making. with that also comes the extra special guilt that crops up when i wonder if, had i been more in-tune with my kids, i would have been able to help bumble more. that maybe somehow all the difficulties he has with school could have been prevented if i had done more with him or gotten him help sooner or sent him to a better school that had the resources to give him the special help he needs. in the debate over nature versus nurture, maybe it was my failings at nurturing from the very beginning that caused all of this.

but then that line of thinking is exactly what goes through my head when i remember fish and all her medical fun. and it's worse with lumpy, because he ended up in the hospital twice for a week at a time with me supposedly "caring" for him. what kind of care was he getting from me exactly?

but then, this is the way it always is in my head. i compare myself to all the happy families i see, and then i think that, if it wasn't for me, my family could be that happy too. my kids could be happy and healthy and satisfied with life if they had a more together and in-tune mom. unfortunately for them, they are stuck with me and all my short comings.

and yes, i know, the glimpses i see of other families don't necessarily mean that they really and truly are happier and better off than we are. and what i'm dealing with is terrible mommy guilt. i might not be perfect, but i am trying. we might not read or play games everyday, but we make time when we can. and though i don't always have the patience to have fish help me in the kitchen, i let her help when we're taking cakes to visit family. and it's totally ok that our house doesn't look magazine perfect, because this clutter suits us better.

i like to believe that, if i asked them, my kids wouldn't trade me for any other mommy out there, even with my imperfections and all.

sick kids that are not sick

so you might not think it from looking at him, but my dear lumpy is frail and sickly. like seriously, just because he's bigger then almost everyone else his age, he seems to get sick a lot. but he's a trouper and deals with it well. after so many years of taking so many meds everyday, he's kind of gotten used to popping pills and chugging shots out of medicine cups and taking his puffer when he needs it.

and he's been feeling so much better lately. in fact, we've been able to wean him off of almost everything that he was taking on a daily basis. he only has to take his allergy medicine, and soon we get to stop that until spring. of course we still have to monitor him closely, because if he starts to slip, the it's back to the regime of puffs and pills.

still, i worry about him and his health. part of it is because there is so much unknown with his sickness, the hope has always been he'd grow out of whatever was the cause, but there was never anything definite beyond that hope. the other, bigger part that causes me worry is that i feel responsible for how everything was handled in the very beginning. he was young and had the flu. i was in contact with his pediatrician, and we pushed fluids and gave tylenol and i decided to wait a few days to see if he got worse. and then he collapsed and we took him to the er and all hell broke loose. and i still feel like it was my fault, because i couldn't see how sick he was, and didn't realize how bad it had gotten, and i should have been able to protect him from getting sick in the first place.

ah mommy guilt, does it ever really get better?

anyway, fast forward to a few days ago when he started to complain that his tummy didn't feel good. and then he had to keep going to the bathroom. the week before his sister had come down with a terrible stomach bug, and i wasn't surprised that he was feeling the effects too.

part of me knew that it would pass. it was the kind of thing that antibiotics didn't help, but at least he was old enough and big enough i could give him something for his tummy, unlike poor fish who moaned and complained and took four hour naps. (also, pullups are great for some things, but they do not contain the big messes. lucky for me i had a blanket on the couch that day.) there was another part of me that was worried that this would develop into something more serious. and so i kept him home.

it's been two days of him "not feeling well." and of him chugging gatorade. but also he's been sitting and watching cartoons and chasing the cats and playing video games. and complaining that he's bored and wants to ride his bike outside. and not once did he lose his appetite, unlike fish who refused to eat.

so i realized earlier today that, though he was sick, he is also a very smart boy. smart enough to play off my worry and guilt. and when the wrestling and jumping around rivals the activity levels on the best days of summer vacation, i know he's not all that sick. so i gave him an ultimatum: if he was well enough to go outside and play with his brother this afternoon, then he was well enough to go to school tomorrow.

and guess who's not missing his math test tomorrow?