Only just; almost not.

A summer’s worth of posts all rolled into one or just pick right up where I find myself tonight? The last time I blogged feels like forever ago. So much living has happened since June, and I’m probably too tired to even remember what happened yesterday, let alone a month ago. So picking up where I am it is. (Summer was busy and hot. There. My re-cap.)

The usual end-of-summer angst is upon me. I probably write at least one post a year about being done with summer and needing the routine back, and this August is no exception. I’m at the cusp of my breaking point with the kids and the renovations. Daily I seem to ask myself, sometimes aloud even, how much more I can handle. The proverbial plate is full and spilling over. And, of course, the kids start school late this year. So that’s where I find myself. Wishing I was a chain-smoker.

Even when the kids are finally carted off to school on the big yellow bus, September proves time and time again to be a monumental test of my mental and physical stamina. As if getting used to waking-up early and having to spring right out of bed and into a schedule wasn’t trying enough there’s still all the ‘Back-to-School’ events and ‘Meet-the-Teacher’ nights and Running Clubs and archery that both kids are doing this year. The school jumps right in to fundraising and doing it’s best to bleed the parents dry of all money and dignity they have leftover from the summer months. Seriously, I think I got the first fundraising package sent home within the first few days last year. And because I’m apparently a complete masochist, I enrolled Eli in a condensed swim class for three days a week for all of September. Someone slap me. Or offer to babysit. At the very least, bring me a Starbucks.

Do I sound like I’m complaining? I am. I need a space to be irritated and overwhelmed once-in-awhile. If you don’t understand then I suggest you should have three kids with a shift-working spouse while doing a stupid amount of renovations on your house…then get back to me.

Back in the spring we bought a new laptop. I love it. It doesn’t take a year to turn the damn thing on. Also, the keyboard is nice to type on…which makes a huge difference. I was super excited to be able to quickly get a blog down and published. I miss using this space. I need to get back to it. I don’t need to actually. I want to. It helps.

The Gumption is Gone

Call it the winter blues, a February slump, SAD’s or just straight-up depression, but whatever you label it as, all I know is the Gumption Train left weeks ago.

This is fairly normal for me during these dark and bitterly cold winter months. Last year was particularly brutal considering it was about -40 most days with mountains of snow taking over the city. I thought this year would be different. We stocked up on Vitamin D, booked James some time off for the end of this month and hoped that we’d be able to afford a warm vacation. It hasn’t been as cold and we’ve had barely any snow (for Winnipeg). However, I’m finding myself having only one or two “good” days every week. Which isn’t all that good…

I’m not so sure that it’s the weather, although it does play a part, as much as I feel a bit lost in life right now. I don’t feel like I’m fitting in to things. I don’t feel like myself. I could use a good dose of sunshine for sure, but it’s more then that.

I’ll have been a parent for ten years this coming September. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for almost all of that time. I think that lately I’ve been feeling the weight of that undertaking, if that makes any sense. A lot of myself is on hold, and has been for a long time now. I’m finally getting back into my artwork, which has been good for me, but I’m still so limited by space and nap times and shift work and the energy to do it.

The gumption to press on and move forward and keep my chin up is waning. I need a break. I need to recenter and rejuvenate but there’s no break in sight.

Someone said to me the other day, “The days are long but the years are fast.” I’m currently feeling the long, dark days.

“The Lord will work out his plans for my life,

for your loving-kindness, Lord, continues forever.

Don’t abandon me—for you made me.”

Psalm 138:8

Rain Day

Comfy bed – check

Library book – check

Slouchy sweater – check

Fresh coffee – check

Idyllic, isn’t it? Maybe just for an introvert like me.

It’s been a rainy day. It’s been a rainy week actually, figuratively speaking. I’ve been so stressed that I’m starting to feel it take it’s toll on me physically. When I was growing up I had stress induced heart palpitations and now, into my adult years, I get a racing heart and difficulty getting big deep breaths when I feel too anxious or down for too long. If only it presented in losing weight and having boundless amounts of energy. I should probably do some yoga, or drink some Gin. Or do both, at the same time.

Ah well. Summer is just around the corner and hopefully that means a whole bunch of nothing. I pulled the kids out of school and took them to the beach this week. It was nice to get a change of scenery for a couple of days and get our feet all covered in sand. We didn’t make it to soccer this morning either as everyone was too exhausted and no one wanted to brave the wind and rain.

I do hope summer brings with it a slower lackadaisical pace. I could use that right about now.

 

These Days

 

 

Just in the past week or so Eli has started to actually play. It’s still crazy toddler playing, but he’s finally sitting down or sitting at the table and occupying his time with toys instead of just wandering around the house carrying things or moving random objects from here to there. It’s nice. Really nice. I think that part of it is that Rhys and Amelia sit at the table a lot and Eli wants to be up there doing something as well. He’s all about cars and trucks, like most little boys. He can’t say a single word but he can make loads of sound effects already.

Now that the weather is warming up and our snow is quickly melting we are taking lots of walks around the block. Sometimes he walks and splashes in the puddles and sometimes I push him in the stroller. We are both loving the fresh air after being cooped up all winter long. Its fun to see his world open up; new smells and sounds and sights. He’s clearly enjoying himself.

I’ve been busy with the house and kids and husband, as per usual. I moved all of my living room and dining room furniture a few days ago and swept and moped everywhere. It was so clean and shiny and sparkling. Today? It looks like a dirty stuff bomb went off. There are muddy footprints all through the house (husband), there are tiny cars scattered about (Eli), there are clothes all over (Amelia), there are Lego bits and loom elastics and pine needles. It’s a never-ending tedious job that makes me drink at night.

But that’s life. Clean one minute and messy the next.

 

The Intruder

I often like to imagine that our household doesn’t fit into the typical “couple with young kids” stereotype. I puff out my chest and can rattle off a list of things like how interesting our kids are, how artsy they’ve become, that one can beat adults at a game of chess and the other has a sense of style like…well…Betsey Johnson maybe? I like to separate my kids from the herd in saying that they’re polite and well behaved and are burning through books and not greedy and whiny and obsessed with video games and Disney princesses. The truth is that they’re typical and that we do fit into the stereotypes. I live off of coffee, own a lot of yoga pants, and know the theme songs to way too many cartoons. We buy McDonald’s, we YouTube pop songs to dance around to, we let them play video games and they whine and cry and demand. We even have ground up Cheerios in our living room rug! I suppose part of it is that I don’t like falling into what everyone thinks living with young kids is like. It’s a picture that’s painted with equal parts repulsion and curiosity. Why would people ever have kids? *blech*

They interfere with your body, your bank account, your lifestyle and your sleep.

Ah, your sleep. Your precious sleep. Since having kids I find that I don’t sleep well. I’m either stressed, physically sore from stress, having bizarre dreams about them growing extra limbs and failing math tests or sleeping with one ear open in case there are midnight tummy aches and teething. A good deep sleep is now a precarious thing.

Last night I must have been having a dip into the elusive REM cycle when some subconscious alarm went off. I opened my eyes a crack and saw a dark shadowy figure standing right by my head. Natrually, because I was completely freaked out of my mind thinking I was about to die, I started yelling loudly which alerted my soundly sleeping husband to the present danger. Being a police officer, his adrenalin and hyper-vigilance went into overdrive with his need to subdue the threat to my person. He lunged his upper body over me and grabbed the shadowy figure, pulling them onto the bed. As he was about to unleash his fists of fury onto the burglar we realized it was Amelia. She’d had a nightmare and came upstairs for some comfort. Poor child. Afterwards she told me that she had been quietly saying “mommy” trying to wake me up when I started screaming and James attacked her.

Needless to say, Amelia managed to get to sleep after that. James and I tossed and turned, trying to find space to get comfortable without knees and elbows and stuffed animals. It didn’t happen.

Our lives will calm down eventually, when the kids are older and independent. For now, we fit most of the stereotypes…except for the mini-van. We’re fighting that one until the bitter end.

Carry On

There are days and weeks and months that feel like no matter where you look everything is messy, no matter what direction you face things feel hard. Every part of life is turned over and upside down and frustrating. There isn’t one thing that is spared.

I’d like to say I’m going through one of those weeks but if I’m totally honest, it’s been dragging on for months (possibly years). I’m exhausted and weary. I want to kick and scream and blow things up but I just keep on trucking. What else can you do?

I’m sure that part of it is having young kids, part of it is being a single income family and part of it is…a million other things, but the straw that’s breaking the camel’s back is this stupid kitchen drain. Two and a half weeks without my sink and dishwasher draining properly (read: at all). I had been trying very hard (and succeeding) to get into good habits with my housework and my food prep but this has totally and completely derailed me. All gumption to do anything even remotely productive has drifted away and I’m left to pout in pity-party land.

Sigh. I went a long time without a dishwasher. I can do this.

Breathe. Chin-up. Carry on.

 

Cherish Them!

Eli has been sick and is also teething. He’s always been pretty good sleeper, but for the past four nights it’s been awful. Two of those nights he’s had to sleep with me and one of those nights he slept in the playpen right beside my bed. I can’t do much to comfort him it seems, other than let him know I’m there.

I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve been saying this a lot lately. Life is getting me down and I’m weary. Our church is having a craft and bake sale this Sunday and I committed to bringing things, but I’m seriously hoping little elves can come and sew things in the middle of the night.

If I were to be totally honest and truthful with you at this point in time, I would tell you that I can’t wait for my kids to grow up and move out. I can’t wait for James and I to have time to ourselves. I can’t wait for my house to be tidy 10 minutes after I cleaned it. I can’t wait to have the energy to take-up some hobbies. I can’t wait to stay-up later than 9:00pm. I can’t wait to sleep-in longer than 7:30am! I can’t wait to be a snow bird and spend a few months out of every year in Arizona. I can’t wait get in my car and run errands and grab coffee without adjusting to children and schedules. I can’t wait.

Screaming right back at me is this annoying voice, dripping with mommy-guilt, that says, “CHERISH THEM!” Because apparently I’m not allowed to wish for slower days and a clearer mind and a cleaner house and better sleep. Apparently I’m not allowed to want to resemble a normal human. A functioning human. No, the mommy-guilt gets me every time…and all of the voice that actually tell me to cherish my children because “it goes by so darn fast! They’ll be grown before you know it!” Well, it doesn’t feel fast right now. It feels slow and tiring and hard. How dare I wish them away and retreat to fantasy land where I live a life that is orderly and creatively stimulating. How dare I!

I’m surviving the difficult “young family” years. Yes, I love my children dearly. I often like them. Heck, I even enjoy them and the craziness from time to time…but it’s hard.

It’s hard when your husband has been working for almost two weeks straight and you’ve barely slept because of sick kids and you wake-up to mess and you’re trying to appease the baby while your kid refuses to eat what you given them because you’re too low on groceries to provide options. Do I argue and get even more frustrated? Do I give-in? Do I teach them a lesson and send them to school hungry? I’m too tired to be going through this 5 minutes after I wake-up. It’s hard being everything to everybody.

Ugh. I need some more coffee.

 

Feeling Fear

Have you ever been so afraid that you can practically feel the fear coursing through you? So terrified that if feels as though your heart is about to burst out of your body?

The sounds around you become muffled as your pulse beats in your ears. You hone in to your breathing. You close your eyes and try to, unsuccessfully, calm yourself with reason.

This is how I felt 56′ in the air.

I have been trying to learn how to  take risks and put myself out “there”. “There” is ever-changing; a new friendship, a new skill, a new experience. It can be so easy to stay the same person year after year. You get in a rut or a comfortable spot and you forget to live a little or you have a dream but you feel as though it’s too big, too lofty so you don’t even try.

In October we took the kids to Mall of America. I’ve been to the gigantic consumer’s paradise numerous times, but they had recently revamped their whole amusement park. It’s pretty impressive now, in my opinion, and I highly recommend the trip. While doing some research for our short stay I read that Nickelodeon Universe had installed a 56′ ropes course in the park.  I got very excited and became determined to tackle this four-leveled monstrosity.

Fast-forward to me 56′ up in the air standing on a 3′ wide platform, trying to muster enough courage to step-out onto two wobbly ropes, with only one loosely hanging stabilizing rope, just beyond my reach.

I looked down to little ant-sized James and shook my head back and forth. He gave me a big smile and two thumbs up. “Easy for him to say” I grumbled to myself, “he’s not up here…and he’s scared of heights!”

Amelia had joined me on the ropes for three levels and then decided she’d had enough. Conveniently the third level is where you get off of the course and go down a massive spiraling slide. While I was dropping her off a guy began removing her harness and I asked him how many people make it to the gangplank, he told me about 60%.

Have I not mentioned the gangplank? Oh yes, it’s this 4′ long x 1′ wide plank that you walk out on with no sides and nothing to hold onto! At the end you pull down on a rope and a big horn blows to signal that you’ve made it. This was my goal. Get to the horn. But first I had to walk across two wobbly little ropes and in order to do that….my feet had to move. I had to take two steps out and grab the overhead rope. I knew as soon as I had that rope in my hands that it would be fine, but when you’re 56′ up in the air, it feels like the biggest distance, the biggest risk. What if I put all my weight onto the ropes and they wobble too much? What if I lose my balance? What if I panic half-way?

As I stood on that platform I contemplated turning around and calling it quits, heading back down to the slide and getting safely to the ground. I didn’t want to be so high anymore. I didn’t want to be this freaked-out.

Then I thought to myself, “Half-way home I’m going to regret it. I’m going to wish I’m right back here at this very moment, feeling this fear. But instead of turning around and picking the safe route I’m going to wish that I had stepped-out and taken the risk.”

This ropes course excited me for two reasons; I’m a bit of an adrenalin junkie and I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. I wanted to set a goal for myself and follow through. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m very good at giving-up. I start things and when they get hard, I don’t finish them. I’m tired of that.

So I shuffled my toes off of the platform and stepped out with one foot, then the other. In a split second I had the rope in my hand and I was moving across the 20′ stretch to the next platform. When I got to the gangplank I looked down. There was a crowd gathered and some people were pointing at me, way up in the air. I looked straight ahead and marched forward. I did it!

Sure, it’s a silly amusement park “ride”, but I conquered it and I am damn proud of that fact.

It was as though this little blip in my day was a physical testament to my desire to overcome some of my fears, to take risks and to walk into the unknown.

It’s there a chance of failure? Yes, but there’s also a chance of success and I’ll never know until I step off the edge.

I’m Exhausted

I woke-up early to my alarm and, much to the protesting of my body, hauled myself out of bed. I shuffled downstairs to get the baby, sleepily wrestling with the arms of a cozy sweater. He was lying down but wide-eyed and happy to see me. Amelia popped up from under her covers and yelled, “BOO!”

Hooray, she’s awake.

I changed Eli and helped Amelia get some clothes out to wear to school and attached an oversized flower to the top of her head. Off to the kitchen.

This is how my next two hours played out:

Argue with Amelia about what she’s going to be eating today.

Rhys wakes up.

Give Eli a bottle.

Argue with Amelia over the fact that she can’t bring a camping chair upstairs to sit on in the middle of the room.

Watch as Amelia does some weird interpretive dance to the words ‘Deep Freeze’.

Make lunches.

Make breakfasts.

Insist that Amelia does, in fact, like peach yoghurt and that for years it was the only flavour she would eat and demand that she choke it down before she drives me crazy.

Sit down to feed Eli and myself and keep Rhys and Amelia focused on getting food into their mouths.

Tell the kids a gazillion times to clear their dishes.

Hose down the baby and get him playing with some toys.

Clean-up the kitchen mess while making sure the other two are brushing their teeth and doing their hair.

*Sniff-sniff* Change Eli again (I think a skunk died in that diaper).

Make sure the kids are dressed appropriately for the weather.

Send them on their way and put Eli at the front window to watch them and the bus.

Make coffee.

Clean out dishwasher.

Load dishwasher.

*Sniff-sniff* Change Eli again and put him down for a nap (after looking high and low for my phone which he hid in his toy bin).

Get dressed and un-zombify myself.

Throw some laundry in.

Sit down to my now tepid cup of coffee.

And I wonder why I’m exhausted by 10:00 in the morning!?

A Conversation with my Inner Self

The title of my post is slightly misleading. I suppose it would be more acurate to say that this is an inner dialoge between Me, Myself (my negative inner voice) and I (my positive inner voice). I’ve had a lot rumbling around in my head (that’s not out of the ordinary though, is it?) and it goes a little something like this (try to keep up, I’m unleashing some serious crazy on you right now):

Me: Oh my GOSH! {Flops on the couch} I’m almost 30!

Myself: I know! Didn’t I say I’d “be in the best shape of my life before I turn 30”? {Eyeballs my body} That didn’t happen.

Me: I did say that…I mean, I did just have a baby 10 months ago.

I: Ya, c’mon! I look great for having 3 kids.

Me: I DO look great for having 3 kids. But, I should really work-out more and eat better.

Myself: Ya, you should get on that right about…6 months ago!

Me: I need to do something with myself. I can’t believe I’m almost 3o and I haven’t done anything with my life.

I: Um, I had 3 kids. Remember the 3 kids I had?

Myself: Whatever, everyone has kids.

Me: It’s true, lot’s of people have kids. That’s not all that special.

I: I think it’s pretty special! Look at how great they are. I’m doing a pretty good job of raising them and it’s hasn’t been a walk in the park either.

Myself: But I’m just a stay-at-home mom. You’d think that by 30 I would have done something awesome!

Me: I know! I always thought that I was made for something great…and here I am, folding clothes and washing dishes all day. Every day! Bummer. That was a bit of a let down.

Myself: Double bummer.

I: Guys, it’s not like I expire when I hit 30! It’s not like I have a best before date stamped on my butt that says “Use by: 13 OCT 2013”

Checks to see

Me: I guess not. Ya, you know what, it’s okay! I still have a lot of time to make my mark in the world and to accomplish the things I want to do.

Myself: Not really. You’re old now.

I: Oh, shut up! Who says you have to have all the fun before a certain age? Grandma went to university and got a degree at 60. I think that I can do whatever I want to do regardless of how old I am.

Me: That’s true! My life isn’t ending. No one is handing out a report card on my birthday to see how I’ve stacked-up to everyone else. I have a lot to offer and so many things that I want to try and do, who cares what everyone else has done.

Myself: But I’m still not in shape.

Me: It’s only 10lbs! Not that big of a deal.

Myself: My pants think it’s a big deal.

Me: My yoga pants don’t!