DAY 7 & Still Going Strong

We are on DAY 7. I have nicknamed this summer as Mission Impossible. Each day is action-packed and  involves intellect, heroics, and scheming villains. Don't judge, but it helps me cope to live outside of reality every now and then. If only life were like the movies.

Figuring It Out......

 For the first few days, I stared at these creatures, they very ones I helped create, wondering how I will make it out alive. My survival instincts said to run….and don’t look back.  

Due to bad knees and the fact that I suck at running, I decided it was best I stood my ground.

This was my new mantra:

Don’t make eye contact and stand very still…..maybe they will sniff around for a bit and then go off to chase the squirrels………

Ok, maybe that comparison is a bit harsh, but I sometimes feel like I am at odds with a rabid animal. Kids are smart. They scheme to get what they want. Their skillful maneuvers bring havoc and attempt to break you down.  Their instincts are impeccable, especially when they have you backed into a corner.

 I love these little minions that now occupy my every waking moment. I do. Really….. But I am also a person that loves her quiet, “ME” time. I believe this stems from being an only child. Back in the day, I could shut off my mind and write, read, or just be. 

It's all about survival......

I have survived hourly attacks from these little humans….the very ones that inherited my husband’s smart a** personality and my incessant need to always be right.  My Mom and God are laughing at this, I am sure.

Karma sure dealt us a great hand. I curse her daily.

 After spending a bad day of swearing at my good friend, Karma, I am tired. Also a bit bitter. There are moments when I google summer camps that last ALL summer, no matter the cost.  A second mortgage would be an easy fix to the headaches and bickering.

But, I only Google....I never actually complete the registration. I’d miss them. Most of the time.

I chose this SAHM life. My husband and I made the decision while we were sober, coherent, and of sound mind. I just need to get over my own doubts and insecurities.

Sharing our Day........

When my husband asks about our day, I am sometimes guilty of not sharing the good stuff.  I feel remorseful that he cannot suffer enjoy what happens while he is at the office.  In fairness to him, I created him a letter/list:  

Dear Craig,

If I forget to tell you about our day, please know that it is not intentional.  I just fear that speaking of these events may cause flashbacks. And since I know you hate when I cry, please accept this as a substitute to a verbal discussion.

*Disclaimer: For the most part, these are daily occurrences, but they are subject to change without warning.

1.)    Answered repeated inquiries about our daily agenda.  

2.)    Ignored proclamations of boredom. 

3.)    Calmed cries of frustration when they realized we are not going to town (AKA – spend money). And you said saving money was my weakness. HA! 

4.)    Scrubbed mysterious stuff, which I swear were dried boogers (or cereal…or toothpaste, or gum, or something icky from outside that I don’t want to identify) from the stair railings. 

5.)    Questioned, silently of course, their intelligence when they cannot grasp the concept of why we placed towel holders in the bathrooms.  

6.) Washed a load of towels, unable to distinguish which ones were still clean and which ones were not. (Refer to #5 above)

Love,

Your Wife

P.S If you can't locate me....check the closet.

P.P.S

If not in closet, secure the perimeters and question the children. They may look innocent, but don't believe a word they say.

Surprisingly, I don't miss my old normal...... 

My day sometimes pales in comparison to my husband’s. He shares tales of meetings, working lunches, and planning strategies for multi-million dollar projects. These excite him. He thrives off the turmoil and anticipates the growth that the corporate world offers.

That use to be me. My old normal savored the adrenaline rush of deadlines, procedures, and management. I would react and get a high from strategy meetings, sales numbers and planning for company growth. At the same time, though, these things would also strip me bare. Leaving no room to enjoy my family once I got home. I just wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep it off.

Will I ever want to live in that other world again? I honestly don’t know.

Pursuing my writing will bring changes to our family dynamic. These will bring changes that I chose, not ones I settled for. My family supports me and I am grateful.

I am interested to see how our summer adventure will turn out. I’m scared, yet find that I’m also excited and curious.  It’s like watching those shark shows……you know a person will be eaten or mangled…….you know there will be blood, mutilation, and carnage……..…yet, you still watch.

I foresee a lot of adjustment this summer....mostly for me.

Stay tuned my friends. It's about to get interesting.

  

Hi, my name is Jennifer…..and I am a Stay-At-Home Mom Newbie

There is one & a half days left of the school year…..mere hours left until my Dear Diva Child and Handsome Middle Child are no longer entertained by others for 8 hours.  Summer has finally arrived.   

I am feeling a bit anxious about having my children all to myself for the first time since my last maternity leave….almost 9 years ago.  I am not counting weekends, extended holidays, or vacations. We have these down to a science.  

My time has been spent wondering how many other parents are taking this plunge. Leaving the busy working world outside the home to spend time with their kids? How many are trying to juggle a fledgling dream while trying to figure out how to tolerate the kids 24/7?

 Are there support groups that we newbies can attend? Do I get a special coin or reward if I survive these next 3 months? Who can help me with the important questions I have?

Should I have visited my doctor for anxiety meds?

Are cocktails allowed at any hour? If not, what hour is acceptable?

   I had relished being able to flip off the “Mom” switch (or at least dimming it a bit) while I headed off to work. Yes, I still received those phone calls regarding where they placed their shoes, if I ate the last cookie, and if they could have a friend over. But, once I answered their questions I could disconnect again.  I would arrive back around 5:30 and flip the switch back on for a few hours. Then it was bed time and I was “off” again.

These “off” times were filled with exhaustion and guilt. Guilt that I was not home with my kids. Guilt that I was OK with not being home. Exhaustion from leading 2 lives: My work life and home life...…with a majority of my day spent with my work family.

 

Be Careful of What You Ask For……

I asked for this. I begged for the opportunity. I looked my husband in the eye 6 months ago and told him, “It’ll be no problem! I can do it. Trust me.”

Fast forward 6 months…….

Me: “Only 1 more week left! Are you excited?”

Middle Child: “Mom, we only have 2 ½ more days. We get out Wednesday, not Friday.”

Me: “You don’t go until next Friday?”

Middle Child: “No. Mom. And don’t forget Wednesday is a half-day….”

Me: “Well, crap……”



Photo Credit:

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Summer had not even started and I already had one mark against me.  

 

A piece of cake….right? (Just nod and humor me….)

Super Mom is a fictional character we like to conjure up in our minds. This dream is unrealistic and often causes us to feel more discouraged than we already are. I have accepted that I am real and that's alright. I am not, nor will I ever be a SUPER MOM.   My kids love me just the same......I hope.

 

Pushing doubt aside is difficult.  There are books to better prepare me for this adventure, but I am winging it. I have successfully raised three kids without once losing them or giving them away….so far. And I feel accomplished that I have 1 child that is technically an adult and I have never had to bail her out of jail.  Who needs a stinking book!?

Being myself is less stressful.

There will be bumps, bruises, scratches and the occasional screaming but I have faith that our household will make it.  I am clueless about how the dynamics will change by having the kids ALL day without hubby as a buffer. Or having school to provide constant interaction. I have booked a few camps, so hopefully this will allow us some time apart to regroup and remember that we love each other. (Keep your fingers crossed!)

 

 

 

 

Top 3 Summer Goals in BFE

1.)    Blogging a bit more and share my adventures and mishaps.

2.)    Start my book and possibly fail a few times. (see last week’s post)

3.)    Enjoy my kids and treasure the laughter, tears, and time.

 

 

 

 

Something More

I have not written anything on my blog for a few weeks. I took a break. Accepting that I needed some time was not an easy one.  I have a bad habit on not focusing on the here and now. Always living my life for one certain event.

Over the past 2 weeks, I lived each day and acknowledged that my life was mine to live, however I see fit.  I wanted to step back and settle my nerves……and the voices in head. I have learned that a lot of people have this inner voice. Most writers engage with it quite regularly, so I decided to listen a bit closer to what I needed.

 

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ME vs. MYSELF

I have always hated confrontation. Growing up, I despised rocking the boat and causing conflict. As I entered into my thirties, I realized that while I was busy making everyone else happy…I was not. Appeasing others kept me busy. The type of mindless busy-ness where you stand around smiling and nodding, but never really caring about the outcome.

I was faking it.

Confronting my own negativity has been a cruel and never ending battle. Recognizing the tornado of emotions swirling inside was painful and depressing.  My habit of denial never allowed sadness, hurt, or anger to surface. They just swirled….building until I felt overwhelmed.  The fury that would then explode, left a path of destruction.

Self-destruction in not pretty.



SOMEDAY…..……

I began blogging to achieve my "something more". I finally defined what this was to me: Becoming a published author.

Writing daily was therapeutic and calming. But at the same time, I was frustrated. Where blogging satisfied my writing itch, I realized that my goals were misconstrued. I only blog once a week, so this left free time. I had time to build myself as a writer, but I tended to shy away from anything writing related.

The other day, I was talking with a friend about how I love to write…..some days.  We chatted about my goal of publishing a novel…..that may happen.......someday.

Photo Credit: © Anthony Dodd

I confessed that even after leaving my full-time job, my personal goals were still being filed under that familiar SOMEDAY tab.  Losing my focus when writing was causing me anxiety. This was my “something more”, damn it! Where’s the satisfaction I craved? 

Thoughts invaded my head of quitting. Just be a mom and enjoy the next million years until they leave the house. Should establishing myself as a published writer wait for another time? Like when pigs fly?

 I chalked this up to my typical behavior.

You see, I am an instant gratification junkie. Thriving on and sometimes overdosing on the short-lived thrill. 

My friend listened to my SOMEDAY excuses. She asked if I had written my first chapter yet I could feel my cheeks flush. Admitting the truth embarrassed me. The truth was no, I had not written a chapter. I had not even expanded my outline or ideas onto a measly first page.  

Next came the tough question......

"What are you waiting for?" 
 

Admit the Truth

We all have other duties in our life. We all make excuses. We all face the challenges of making time to focus on a dream, to pursue a goal, or to slow down and recognize that you do hold the power over your own life.

 

 I realized.....the things you are searching for to complete your life…… are found inside of you.  I needed to stop looking elsewhere. I needed to stop using my fear of failure as a crutch.

If I never sit down and create this novel, my story will never be shared. If I never send it in for publication, I will not get a rejection letter. If no one reads it, I will never hear the negative criticism.  That's the inner voice of fear talking.

On the flip side, if I continue to allow fear to rule my life,  I will never experience success. I will never see my book in print. I will never achieve  my "something more".  

No.....I will not wake up tomorrow and tell my children that it is OK to fail at whatever they do. BUT, I will make sure to teach them not to let the fear of failure rule their lives.  Straight A's, awards, and winning games are all great accomplishments, but there is so much more to it.

  If you never TRY something just because you MAY or MAY NOT fail, well........you will never know what you missed along the way.  

I may type a million first pages and fail 999,999 times. BUT that 1 page that makes it into my book, will be worth all the others failures before it.

Walking the Plank....Take 2!

Little moments in life are cherished. First steps, first words, the first loose tooth. These milestones are ones we gladly mark down in baby books or record on film.  With each of my children, I hold onto these fading memories and mourn their passing. Before we are ready, those sweet moments are overshadowed with ones that make us cry and cringe.

 Having College Child, Middle-Child and Diva Child 5 years apart, gave my husband and me a breather. Over a year ago, we completed our first teenage voyage. We visited hell and thankfully made it back. I don’t recommend this trip, but I know it is inevitable in the vicious cycle of parenting.

I do not want to make this trip again. I keep trying to refund my tickets, but I find that no one wants them and sadly I don’t blame them. The ulcers are about healed….but now the next kid is up to bat and we are going to be yanked back out into the game.  And there will be another to follow that one.

© Jordy Silva | Dreamstime Stock Photos

The Middle Child is taking a course, through his school, called “Worth the Wait”. Between this  and Diva Child questioning comments from pharmaceutical commercials, I feel like I'm walking the plank. I guarantee that  shark infested waters are safer than the questions about hormones and the facts of life. 

 

Finding the Humor

The other day, I picked my son up from school.

Me: “So, how was your day?”

Middle Child:  “Good.”

Me: “Do you have homework?”…..hopeful for more than the one syllable answer.

Middle Child: “No, but today we had to go to the Library with the other class and learn about STD’s, AIDS, and Herpes. Did you know you could die from Stage 4 Herpes?”

Me: Silence……as I dig in my bag of tricks to find a proper response…….I confess that I would have been happy with a one syllable answer. (It’s called denial and wonder why these conversations ALWAYS occur while I am driving.)

Middle Child: "I also failed 2 assignments because I did not finish on time. We had three days, but I did not get it done."

Me: "What were the assignments?"

Middle Child: "We had glue the body parts on Male and Female Anatomy diagrams."

Me:  Silence.....Thinking to myself...the female anatomy will always be a mystery to you, bud.

 

The kicker to all of  this is, he earned a 69 on both assignments.  I literally laughed till I cried. Yep…….quite comical, right?! Finding the humor in the beginning of this long road will help me.  I learned this the first time around.

 

Marking Your Territory

With my son, I find that I am the territorial one. Whereas, with our daughter, it was my husband. I honestly thought he would “mark his territory” to prevent the boys from invading.

Now, I find my husband giving our Middle Child high five’s and smiling like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. It is a little unsettling how the double-standard is alive and well in our home.

As the mother of a boy, I still see him as my baby…..my 1 and ONLY male child. He is very precious to me and I feel I should interview any little girl that crosses his path. My husband thinks this is a bad idea, but I am currently constructing a questionnaire. God help the woman who breaks his heart.

 

Face Reality.....it'll be here before you know it.

Watching my children grow up is intriguing, heartbreaking, and downright exhausting.  They are faced with adult decisions way too early.

All I can do is be honest, welcoming, and open to anything they need to discuss……after they pour me a glass of wine.

The Pen & Paper Side: There is No Magic Left in My Kingdom

I am not a person that reads the news every day. Of course, I lightly glance at the headlines and get updated on the current events. But sadly, I find it easier to not dwell on the reality that is playing on the morning news, the radio, or the colorful headlines that flash across our homepages.

I was given the assignment of creating a poem based on a current news article.  Typical me, I skipped over pieces regarding war and politics. My attention was drawn to a small title, snuggled below the flashy pictures of the major headlines.  I clicked on the link, In Disney's shadow, homeless families struggle. Everyone loves this magical place and it confused me why families would struggle there. I needed to know more.

As I read the piece, I felt disillusioned. I never associated the Happiest Place on Earth with homelessness. Of course, I see it on our street corners every day, but a person’s mind plays tricks. It covers up the truth and allows us to keep blinders on.  As I kept reading, I felt the urge to tell a story of how all things magical are not always what they appear to be.

 

There is No Magic Left in My Kingdom

 

Smashed in the backseat, between my sisters,

I dream of magical creatures, princesses and roller coaster rides.

My sisters say I’m silly and that I don’t understand.

I tell them to shut up and ward them off with my small 8 year old stare,

A quiet scolding comes from the front, my head then turns to meet my mother’s gaze.

 

Mom and Dad whisper, a quiet mummer that I cannot make out.

I know it’s never good when their whispers somehow reduce the hope that once filled their hearts.

My Dad’s smile stopped reaching his eyes a few weeks ago.

This was when I was told we were leaving the only home I’ve ever known.

I was sad, lonely even…until they told me we would live close to the Magic Kingdom.

 

My magical dreams carry me to our first stop.

A small motel on the side of a road my dad calls U.S 192.

My sisters grumble, I push my way past and unload my small suitcase from the back.

It’s like a vacation I tell them, it’ll be fun.

They don’t believe me, I can see it in the way they avoid my stare.

 

Four weeks have flown by, as we load back up the car.

I still have not seen the castle that I read about in my books.  

I sit in the same spot I sat only a month before, squashed between them, but this time I understand.

Understanding because my sisters no longer make fun of me, they realize I see a glimpse of our reality.

My parents look tired and their smiles are few and far between.

 

Our new place has a view…of the parking lot that holds buses that take others to the kingdom.

I sit and stare and wonder how I can sneak aboard, just one time is all I need.

Our belongings have piled around, but I make sure my view is not blocked.

I make sure of this because it’s the only hope around.

I continue to draw to keep my young brain busy, as my mama likes to say.

 

Dad is gone for long hours and never seems to find what he goes out to search for.

Mom cries at night, behind the peeling bathroom door.

I can hear my dad, always whispering…..that we will be ok.

My sisters disappear for long periods at a time and I feel uncertain of tomorrow.

I am scared that there is no longer any magic left here to find, as I sit alone and wait for another move. 

 

Enjoying the View

In my past life, visits to the park were something I only read about. Other parents would spend meaningful, quality time pushing their kiddos on swings and chatting with other moms, forging relationships and allowing their children to soak in some Vitamin D. I never ventured to that side of mom-hood. Since I worked, I found it quite easy to brush off requests due to limited hours of daylight, school activities, sport activities, and just because I was too freaking tired.

Also, with living in BFE, we do not have a community park. This meant the closest one was 30 minutes away. With that being said, I had to admit that I was now in a position to fulfill such desires. Since I have the honor of spending all my waking moments catering to my lovely household and their demands, I acknowledged Diva Child’s request and headed to the park.

Granted, we had a time limit of 45 minutes….but I felt that baby steps were in order.

Before I even parked the car, I was rewarded with the biggest smile and a chattering that did not stop for another 4 hours. She led me to the big kid’s area and I went to park my rear on a shaded bench. Between timing how long she spun on a spinning disc contraption and watching her scale a rope wall, I decided that this wasn’t so bad. I could handle this park thing. No biggie.

That was until she requested my presence on the other end of a teeter-totter. Laughing, I suggested that she might need to find a person 30 years my junior…….and maybe a few pounds lighter. She said no, she wanted ME on the other end of this daunting piece of equipment.

 Needless to say, I climbed on……knowing this would not be a boost to my self-esteem and I should not have had that cookie at lunch…….or eaten anything……EVER.

With my daughter laughing, as she was lifted towards the sky, I realized that I do this every day. I teeter between life, motherhood, supporting my husband, starting a writing career, strengthening friendships, being an attentive daughter, and trying to be an individual…….all at the same time.

My writing ideas don’t conveniently arrive when I am on the up side, they happen when I am sitting on the nasty playground sand, staring up at my life. They sneak in when I am gripping the handle trying not to sink in whatever is below.  

I enjoy seeing Diva Child laugh. I find peace with her amazement of simply….just playing.  As a mom, I am teetering all the time.  I try so hard to keep my kids on the upside, where they can enjoy the sunshine and laughter in life. I am accustomed to sitting below watching and being prepared to catch them if they fall. There are times when I want to desperately climb up into their seat and soak in the freedom. But who will balance them if I do this?

Life is a giant teeter-totter, where I try to find my balance. Some days are harder than others. Some days, I barely remember if I ever stopped teetering. But in between, I know there will be more Park Days and those passing moments that consist of pure happiness.

I realize that I am enchanted with the view of what balances me. Whether it’s a toothy smile, mounds of writing, or mountains of dirty clothes……I know I am not ready to get off.

I think I’ll continue to enjoy my view and keep teetering.

 

Spring Cleaning

I shift through the cobwebs of my thoughts. Sticky, jumbled and convoluted…..each one holds a memory. Some light, easy to store. Many are dark and heavy and unwelcome. Untangling intruders is complicated. Once I free them from their confinement, I quickly move forward. Never looking back to see where they fall.  

 

 I have no excuses for hoarding the heavy baggage that only served as a magnet. Pulling in unwelcome sadness, contempt, and self-pity. 

 

How long can one walk in silence before surrendering? Waving that pristine, white flag seems like an easier option. I find myself turning emotions on and off, like a radio dial. Pleasing others. Saluting the masses. These spear-like vices saw away at the bitterness that seems to hold tight.

 

 

Let the Sticky, Yucky Crap Go

With the new found space, I discover my craving for solace and contentment. Balance is essential. However, a road map to peace does not exist. A destination that erases all reality is only a fantasy.

Walking around in life, I am alone in the middle of a muted, grey storm. The wind carries hints of sadness and hopelessness, grazing my skin. Urging me to move on. I can’t resist watching each of my emotions crash into me, much like waves colliding against protruding rocks at the shore.



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With each step, I listen. My bruised, bare feet feel numb as I travel the haggard terrain. My steps echoing a harshness straight through to my soul. Spear-like vices sawing away at the bitterness that seems to hold tight. 

 I resist the urge to stop. Gathering strength to see and feel all my emotions is consuming me, yet I continue to place one foot in front of the other.

 

 Realizing the storm will lift when I take control...

 I turn up my tear soaked face, allowing nature to dry my tears. Turning my view inward, I recognize my destination. It is my today, my tomorrow and my forever that I have misplaced.

It is clear. I must accept what I have been fighting so hard against. My map is for me to create. For no one has the same destiny.