a quiet moment, a wild week

 

 

it’s been awhile.

i don’t usually go this long without posting.

so long, my friend debbie emails me to say are you ok?

yes, debbie.  i am okay.

just tired.

again.

hit the wall. 

it’s been three years. you would think by  now i would be getting used to this.

but now the girls are getting older.  it seems they are getting their own ideas and opinions that we need to hash out.  it seems they are getting involved in more and more things.  it seems my time continues to shrink and shrink.  it seems that ten o’clock on Sunday night, still trying to finish up the weekend work comes too quickly and too often these days.  it seems i notice even more the absence of another adult in this house to turn to at any given point.

i’m whining and giving in to self-pity.  it happens on occassion.

but it will be okay.

and i will refocus and come back to take my own advice, enjoy everyday moments.

like right now.  little one is sick, a virus that makes her tired, miserable, rashy, but still cute as a button.  curled up next to me here in bed, with mama, her warm slightly feverish hand pulling mine around her to sleep.  ems is crashed out at the end of my bed convinced it’s unfair that her sister gets to sleep with me and not her.  so here in the midst of all the chaos, the overwhelming scheduling  and rescheduling  lies my peace, my moment.  my two girls with me in bed, fresh flannel sheets and string lullabies playing on the cd player.  it’s a comfort to them and it’s because of this situation that feels not quite so right to me on so many occassions that we have this ability to be three girls curled up comforted in the bed together.  even the oldest of girls here, finally after an insane week, finds a moment of comfort and peace.

it’s wordless wednesday, but i’ve been wordless here for a bit too long.

it’s spring break so there are no lunches to pack, there is no homework to be done for the next four or five days.  thank you for such relief.  this weekend there is much to celebrate.  the arrival of spring, new beginnings, my oldest turning 10 years old and my friend debbie’s wedding.  thank you debbie for taking a moment in all your wedding pre-production to make sure i was okay, and have a beautiful, beautiful day.  relish every moment of your new beginning and then take some time to rest.  from me to you, i am so appreciative that you have found your one.

now it’s up and drag my rear out of bed to start it all over again…….

an exercise in emotion.

{For a short while today, grief came to visit like an unwelcome friend}

This was my BAM self portrait this week.  I try not to duplicate things I’ve posted here, versus Flickr, versus Facebook, but I needed to acknowledge these feelings.   It seems part of this acceptance process is knowing discomfort, allowing it, and documenting it.  I have found as I take on this self-portrait exercise I want to capture all my emotions even the heavy ones like I had this weekend.

This portrait like so many of the others I have taken was done with the self-timer.  I was reading over some things that I had written that afternoon.  It appears Saturday has become my writing day and it appears I have some demons to work out of my system.

I had watched a movie that weighed heavily on grief and loss.  I have to be careful about what I surround myself with.   I seem to absorb so many of the emotions that occur around me.  This movie brought out so many of my own emotions about motherhood, about loss and regret.  I wrote for quite a while about my thoughts on my past.  On how my family that I created did not turn out to be the family I had wanted and envisioned.  The many years that were wasted in a  loveless marriage weighed heavily on my mind.  It hung with me somewhat even through today.

Sometimes I think that writing might be a sort of therapy.  Other times like right now, I think it’s best to let the past lie in the past.  I don’t want to go back there again.  I have a future to look forward to.  One I fought hard to get to.  And I cannot be so unfair to all that hard work.

hating the house moms.

**disclaimer, after I wrote this post I took a hot bath and did a 30-minute yoga practice that inspired me to write a much more positive post.  I almost considered deleting this one, but decided it was a part of me, so look for the uplifting yoga post this weekend.

 

Not really.  I’m serious, I’m not a hater.  Okay, maybe just a little bit.  It’s nothing personal, trust me.  It’s not specifically  you that I dislike.  It’s not your hair or your personality, or your habits.  It’s just that you are there and I bet you are there with the kids.  And I bet you are not trying to cram bills and laundry and housecleaning and homework and dinner planning and photography and blogposts and a fifteen minute hot bath into one night or one weekend.

And I bet you would die to get out of the house right now.  Perhaps one of your little ones has been sick for four days and you would give anything just to run away and go to the grocery store, alone.  Or maybe your thinking, she has no idea,  she gets to have adult conversations, no one screaming “mama”  four hundred times a day.  I bet she actually gets to read on her lunch hour.  AND then she gets a paycheck.  Every two weeks.

It’s been a rough week.  Again, it seems.  Every week is hard and no amount of planning or organization can defeat the frustration or the tiredness.  No one said motherhood was easy.  No one said balancing work and home life would be easy and NO ONE said  running a house and a family alone would be easy.  I love Karelyn so very much more than life itself, but if someone would have made me pause and say “wait, before you add a second child to your almost two year old, you need to know you’ll be doing this alone in about four years”,  I might have rethought my position. (if you know me at all, you’ll say “she’s just tired” and know that I would not).

I know staying at home with your kids can be tough, but right now, I cannot help but think if I just had one month to  focus on house and home, my family and my art, goodness what could I accomplish?  What would my house look like?  What would I actually be able to remember on a day to day basis versus the flying in ten directions and saying a prayer we are remembering everything.  And this is with paper calendars and multitudes of lists and appointments scheduled in my cell phone.

Today, I had to have multiple reminders and I practically forgot one important thing.  I actually DID forget to reschedule Emily’s dentist appointment, but that wasn’t the important thing, that would be almost forgetting to call home and find out which house the girls would be at this afternoon when their grandmother on their father’s side picked them up tonight.  

Then there was the fundraiser.  I had to pick up the school fundraiser.  The only notification came as a recorded message last night.  Good thing I got the message, because as the fundraiser is frozen food, if it was not picked up by between 4pm and 6pm tonight then it was to be donated.  Are you serious?  This is the forgetful woman’s nightmare.  So I had it written on my calendar, my friend at work wrote it on a post it note and paperclipped it to my bag.  Then I scheduled it on my cell phone and let it beep to remind me every five minutes between the time we closed at work and the time I pulled into the school parking lot.

I planned on working out tonight (hahahahahahahha).  I just want to go curl up under a blanket and eat chocolate chip cookies.  I hid all my dirty pots and pans in the dishwasher and they might stay there until Friday night when this work week is over.   I’m going to ignore the cat litter box and the unswept floor and the hidden dishes and the broken closet door and go climb in a hot bath for a bit.

So I’m sorry.   To the class mother who knows every child in my daughter’s class who I never even knew your daughter was my daughter’s best friend when I met you at variety show tryouts.

I’m sorry, mother who is scrapbooking every moment of her child’s upbringing and creating cute slideshows to music.

I’m sorry, mother with the ability to actually carry a camera and complete a 365 project.

I’m sorry, mother about ready to publish your first book, that you worked diligently on while the children were at school or napping.

I’m sorry, mother who is posting daily Flickr photos of her everyday life full of cups of tea, or pretty flowers arranged neatly on a table or of kids eating homemade, nutritious lunches or creating amazing crafty projects from ordinary household items.

I don’t really hate you.  I’m just tired, and cold, and bitchy and lastly I’m just jealous.

How did you end up with my life?

Sometimes the one I ended up with seems ridiculously hard.

Grounding

I had a revelation on my yoga mat tonight.  That I need to take some time to relax.  I am tired of chasing life.  I am ready to sink into it.  When I do yoga I slow down, both physically and mentally.  I realized there in that moment that I needed to pull myself back down to the ground and let go of some expectations.  I had a day this week when I drove to work slowly and calmly, singing along to the music and pausing for a squirrel to cross the road.  I had another day this week where I roared to work a stressball after a hectic morning. I like that first scenario a lot better.  I wish to move more slowly.

I am trying to do and be too much.  I need to take some time and just be.  Spend some more time on the mat.  Spend some more time listening to birds.  Spend some time really listening to my children.  Get my house in order.  Make some sense of the chaos.  I have resurrected the planner but in a gentler way.

I am taking a wee break from the blog world for a couple of weeks.  I need to focus on the world right here in front of me for a bit.

I will be back cherished friends.

 In the meantime stay healthy, stay grateful, and feel loved.

Catch you on the other side of crazy.

King Size Bed

I am reading a book that I cannot put down.   “How To Sleep Alone In a King Sized Bed” is the story of divorce, motherhood, doubt, fear, confidence.   I am wound up in the words of this book.  This story has me nodding my head, laughing, silently mouthing, oh yes, to myself.  I am amazed at how similar the writing style of this book is to my own, but then realize that the author and I speak the same language and far more than simply English, or Spanish or Italian, we speak the language of divorce.  We speak the language of motherhood.  We speak with a mixture of anxiety  and confidence.

It is a language of our own.  The desperateness, the loneliness, the building again of ourselves and our trust.  The idea of wanting, oh wanting some time for yourselves and then achingly missing your children when they are gone.

I remember when I was newly separated, among all the drama more than anything I had was the fear, the absolute panic and the horrible weight that I would not always be there with my children.  I remember crying myself to sleep thinking “but I am their mother.  It is my job to watch over them, protect them, be there for them, how can I do that when they are apart from me”.  This was my worst nightmare.

Now I think how much I enjoy the time apart.  Look forward to an uninterrupted workout.  A movie and a glass of wine.  The quiet of the house to sit down and write.  Granted we are in a much better place now.  For right now I have no worries about what is happening when they are with their father.  That certainly makes it easier.

In this book the author references divorce books she has read that state it takes two years to recover from divorce, and I think about this.  In May, we will have been physically separated for two years, granted the “official” divorce didn’t take place until June of last year.

But I think about how much progress has been made.  Reading this story of divorce, reminds me of myself.  The anger, the desperateness, the many, many days and nights of WTF am I going to do now?

I don’t cry much anymore.  As much as I did in the marriage or in that first year after.  Apart from the occasional school night locked in the bathroom thinking, “how in the hell am I supposed to take on homekeeping AND math homework“, most of these days are good.

It takes time to adapt out of a marriage, especially one that has lasted ten years and two children.  To become one again instead of two.  To get back that identity.  On this journey you think you must be the only one who is feeling so inadequate and empty.  Then you pick up a book like this and you find a consort, a partner in crime, someone else who has stood her ground, cried herself to sleep, felt a little bit insane and a whole lot of inadequate and still managed to raise two children.

And the king size bed?  I have one, but I am never alone.  This morning I woke to find two bundles of fuzzy girls and one cat stretched across my pillow.  But having faced the prospect of the big lonely bed in the evening I recommend lots of pillows and a heating pad.  It makes one hell of a comforting nest on a cold and lonely night.

On Being Single.

Single mother.

Everyday of my life I am a single mother.  There is no father here.  Has not been for sixteen months. There is very little father in general.

Yesterday at lunch (another post when more time), I actually mentioned the words “finding someone else”, meaning that my heart and mind might be open to letting someone else in.  I think my exact quote was “If I’m ever going to find someone, I probably should leave the house more often”.  Giggle, snort.

I perused single parent websites and blogs when I first separated, but found that over a short time that I didn’t really click there.   I have one single supermama blog friend left and she just announced she’s getting married again, so well, cannot even count that one.

I don’t know why?  And not that I really care.  I just find it interesting when I really think about it.  And I’m not knocking bloggers who blog about the single parent thing.  I’ve certainly done my share of “I hate being the only parent” posting here.

I received one comment that I never posted that told me “suck it up, you live in a dream world and have no idea how bad other single mothers have it”.

I’m not everyone else, I’m just me.  This is my life and this is my struggle and this is my learning experience on this great big blue and green marble.

Almost all my friends both here in the blog world and in life are married, though some were single parents at one time too.

But in the end after some thinking, it’s like this….

Being a single mother is what I am right now.  I was a wife for eleven years.  I may one day be a wife again, or not.  But that is not what defines me.  I am a blogger, a baker, a photographer, a locavore, a treehugger, a lover of a handmade life, a woman searching for a simple life and home, a wanna be homesteader, a mama, a daughter, a grandaughter, a sister, a friend.

In the end those things are the things that fuel my fire, light my soul.  I am happy for the single parents who support each other in the single parent community.  Everyone needs a “tribe”, especially a single parent.

I am proud to call each one of you here reading today a part of my tribe.

Ack.

I’m done.  Spent.  Wrecked.  Blitzed.  You name it.

This week I’ve tried to conquer, stomach anxieties, a flat tire, an unexpectedly  flooded basement, lack of sleep, deaf children and my own self-doubt and anxieties.

The girls and I aren’t meshing this week about the household. I KNOW, I KNOW, they are six and eight years old.  I KNOW, I KNOW they are children, but I am tired, tired, tired of this:

Put your shoes away. Hang up your jacket.  Unpack your backpack.  Unpack your lunchbox.  Turn out the lights.  Flush the toilet.  Put your clothes in the hamper.  Do not splash the tub water all over the floor.  Clean up your dishes.  Do not roll your eyes about doing your homework.  Please go get in the car.  Please wear play clothes when you climb trees not your school clothes.  Did you feed the dog?  Did you feed the rabbit?  Is your room picked up?  Did you brush your teeth?  Please get up Mama is going to be late for work.

We had a family meeting at the onset of this week because I’m overlwhelmed.  They were given tasks to do each day.  Talking calmly and explaining is not working. Yelling is definitely not working.  Taking away the DS or the computer is not working.  So we tried bribery.  They would get 10 cents each for doing each of their tasks for the day.  They would get a 30 cent bonus if I did not have to get after them and not tantrums.  They would split this money up between their Give, Save, Spend jars.  I outlined how much money they would have in their jars at the end of the week, if they just did these simple things to help out.

Oh yeah, it went great the first day.

I hate being the nag.  I hate how I hear them laughing and playing upstairs and I am annoyed because I know that they are not doing what they are supposed to.

I hate coming home from work, making dinner, doing homework, cleaning up dinner, getting baths, going through mail and school papers and trying to squeak in a book before bed and then coming downstairs spent.  Everyone keeps telling me what a great job I’m doing.  Some friends are melting my heart with kind words.

But sometimes, I want someone else to nag.  I want someone else to back me up.  Sometime I feel like I’m on the losing end of two against one.  I want someone with a deep baritone voice to put the fear of God in them every once in awhile.

I’m trying to not sound like I’m whining.  I’m just trying to keep it real.  It’s not all sunshine and daisies over here.  Sometimes being the only parent just plain sucks.

Waiting For The Dead

And that would be me…..

These guys are just watching me and waiting for me to plop dead to the ground.  This is more than likely going to be a bit of an incoherent rant, sorry. But when others do it I always feel just a little more human, so if you continue past this sentence, congratulations, know others are suffering and feel human in your own pathetic way.  And don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I’ve been trying really hard the last two weeks.  I am carrying a notebook around 24/7 with me so I don’t forget anything.  It houses a daily to do list.  Each day I mark “The Date” (come on that’s the easy part) then “Meal Plan”, with my  night’s dinner.  Then a list of “Have To’s”, meaning things that I need to do that day.  Then a list of “Should Do’s” those things that are lurking and not getting done or need to get done by the end of the week.  On the right hand side I’m listing “Coming Up”, or what things are coming up on the schedule ahead that I need to remember (School appointments and DVR’ing House M.D.).

Then at the front of each week I have my Weekly Meal Plan and my Grocery List.  On the back of each day I have a listing for “Daily $$” spent (decreasing),  “Things I Have Eaten” (too much), and “Exercise” (recently, none).  At the very bottom, a list of things I have extolled from the home for the week in the “Plan To Rid The Home of Junk”, otherwise know as” Too Much Clutter Makes Me Miserable And Wastes My Valuable Time“.

So I’m not sure if it’s working.  I cannot seem to work past the Have To’s because they look like this:

work, file school papers, sort mail, cook dinner, do dishes, do homework, girls baths, pack lunches, lay out clothes, scoop cat litter, feed all animals, take out compost, sweep floor.

And I’m not getting much past that because it’s only about four-five hours between get home time and the recently mandatory GET OFF THE COMPUTER AND GO TO BED  YOU ARE SLEEP DEPRIVED time.

Uggh.  It’s been a good exercise in getting my head wrapped around what I have on my plate, I’m moving along with a mission, but I am beat, baby, beat.

I have other lists too.  I’m a real lister.  Lists of all the things that need to be done on a daily, weekly, monthly basis.  Budgets. Lists of projects I want to complete for the home.   Lists of books to read.  Pages of recipes to try.  Craft ideas lurking in every corner.  Half started projects.

And did I mention I need to lose about 30-35 pounds?    If things continue this way those vultures across the road are going to be very happy indeed!

The Second Half

Buddhism is my philosophy of living.

Buddhism has allowed me to become who I am today, to feel comfortable in my own skin, to let me love ME and a whole lot of other people in the process.  It is very difficult for me to explain my relationship with Buddhism because it is a very personal one.

The four noble truths and the eight-fold path, the wise words of teachers such as Thich Nhat Hanh, the Dalai Lama and Pema Chodron awakened me to life.

Buddhism picked me up out of suffering and gave me hope.     When I was going through the worst of the end of my marriage, when I felt  defeated,  when every ounce of my self-confidence had been manipulated out of me, and when the man I loved stood before me and said, “You are nothing and you will never make it on your own”, it was not the words of Jesus that pulled me to my feet, it was the words of a wonderful woman, a Buddhist nun,  named Pema Chodron.  She wrote for me two wonderful books, The Places That Scare You and When Things Fall Apart.

Through her words and the words of the Buddha, I learned a few lessons, the most important being the words,  impermanence and loving-kindness.  I had to learn that my view of what was happening around me could and would change, and I had to learn to love myself again. It taught me how to use my love, my greatest strength, as a warrior would.

I have learned to accept my anger, my frustration and my feelings of being overwhelmed and accept them.  No more running away or hiding out from negative feelings.  I can breathe through these times and remind myself, this is now, this will pass.  I wrote a bit about it here.

Buddhism is what has carried me through, every single day.  It is in every single THING I do. Buddhism has taught me to slow down, to find the mindfulness in my every action. The past is past, done.  The future has not happened yet, cannot be formed in my mind.  There is the present and it demands my attention.  This mindfulness, this one moment at a time, is how I ultimately survive being a single mother.

How has Buddhism impacted my life?  A year and a half ago when I was curled into a ball in the corner of my own dark bathroom in despair and could not find the light I found the beginnings of  a new way of viewing my life.   And here and now I stand on my own two feet, battleworn but with my love intact, a bodhisattva-warrior—using my found wisdom and compassion to extend my love to others—and through that abundant love my own suffering is finally relieved.

 

An Unexpected Birthday

Thanks to everyone who asked about how it went with ex-husband who was supposed to meet with me yesterday. He was a no-show (for me at least). He did show up at his parents house to spend some time with the girls and they returned with no tears, so at least in that we all fared well.  I give up on the conversation bit, there are some battles you just have to accept you will never win.  Myself, I had a nap (what’s that?) on the couch with a quilt and the QUIET.  I cannot remember the last time the house was so quiet or when I took a rainy day nap for that matter.

Today the girls were home  and the house was again full of noise, but good noise: laughter and shrieking and hushed conspiracies, giggles around the dinner table.  Ems decided that it was her doll Julie’s birthday, so celebrations were had, cards were made, treats with dinner.  Ems was never a baby doll kind of girl. Boo loves her babies, but Ems could never be bothered until she discovered American Girl.  She got Julie for her birthday in April and needless to say, she has become a very dear friend indeed.

I got some play in today too.  I took my camera for about an hour and wandered the homestead and got this little shot of Julie resting after her busy day of celebration.  I found her on the couch on the very same quilt I wrapped myself into yesterday.  It appears though that she was too tired to take off her party dress or her shoes.  Today would have been my 12th wedding anniversary, but I would much rather remember it forever as Julie’s birthday.