Can you see me? August 28, 2009

For the past couple of weeks my dear Hunk has been giving me a few hours to go out by myself. Whilst he stays home and tends to the children (what a quaint little statement that is) I go out.

The key here is I go out by MYSELF. No kids, no husbands, nothing. Just me and the radio. Oh, the FREEDOM!

Can I tell you that the first “mommy’s morning out” I was scared out of my wits? Yes, I’ll admit it–I’m a grown woman who was scared to go out of her house by herself.

I felt naked without the huge diaperbag/purse I always carry. I felt like something was missing the entire time I was out. Like I had forgotten something really important.

What is wrong with me?

I’ve come to the realization that what’s wrong with me is that somewhere almost four years ago I left myself behind to dive head first into the world of motherhood (was that a run-on sentence or what? too bad I’m keeping it). The moment I held that sweet little baby boy for the first time I was consumed with the deepest most intense love I’ve ever felt. All I wanted to do was be a good mom to this tender little life I’d been given.

Which is all well and good. BUT (there’s always a “but” isn’t there?) a good mom is a whole mom.

And I wasn’t a whole mom, folks. Not even close. I’ve realized this over the past few months. I was running out of steam. I was getting impatient with my children. I was getting frustrated constatly at my husband. I was all around a very unpleasant person to be around. This added to the stresses we were facing as a family and things weren’t so good (as I’m sure you’ve gathered from all my depressing posts lately…..and the lack of posts even).

I’ve known for awhile that I’ve needed some time to myself. Some time to figure out who I am, again. Time- to refresh myself and my attitude.

I don’t know if I was afraid to ask for some time to myself or if I was feeling like I didn’t deserve it. I think it was a mixture of both. And a bit of not wanting to admit to anyone, myself even, that I really couldn’t do it all. Admiting that I need help has never been my strength.

Well, as you’ve already gathered I somehow found the guts to ask my dear Hunk if I could have a few hours to myself on his days off. And much to my surprise and delight, he said yes.

The first morning was awful. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up wandering around a few stores like a lost puppy. It was pathetic, let me tell you.

The second morning I was better prepared. I had an appointment set to get my hair cut. Then I planned to buy myself a new outfit. It was lovely.

I’m thinking my third morning will be even more wonderful.

The best part is I’ve been more patient with my kids. I’ve been more patient with my husband. I’ve felt happier than I have in a long time, refreshed even. Each time I went out I’ve come back so happy to see my family again. I feel less weighed down by life. And the best part: I’m slowly regaining some confidence in myself as a woman. I think I’ve buried myself under the guise of “perfect mother” for so long that I forgot what it was to be a woman. I forgot that motherhood was only a small piece of the womanly pie.

So I will continue on this journey. I think I’ve finally learned that having some time to myself, for myself, is a priority I need to make time for. Lucky for me, my husband has noticed the change in me and realizes I need this too.

And who knows…maybe one of these times I’ll meet myself.

Coming “Home” July 12, 2009

It’s been almost 10 years since I packed up all my things and left the smallish suburban/farming community I grew up in for the small Bible College in the biggest City I’ve ever lived in. I married my hunk my 5th year of college (yes it took me an extra year, I transfered) and apart from visits have never been back to my hometown. All that changed two months ago the week of my Red-Haired Girl’s first birthday.

I moved “home”.

It’s been different–everything is the same but everything has changed. I left here a young girl just starting out in the world and I now return a woman, married with children. It’s strange. I’m not sure how I fit in here anymore. Do I find new friends who share my beliefs and ideas about life now or do I try to rekindle friendships with those I knew before?

How do I relate with my family? I’m no longer the visitor, in town for the weekend or holiday. I live here now, and I’m not sure how to fit in anymore. All the rules have changed and no one has given me the revised rule book.

We’re living in my Dad’s house, with my 20-year old sister. We don’t really have a place, all of our stuff is in a storage garage 200 miles away, and I don’t know, I guess I feel sort of displaced. I feel like I want to make this our home, but I can’t because it’s not our home, it’s not our stuff. I’m constantly making sure the kids aren’t messing up anything and feel like I can never relax, or let them relax and just be their funny little kid selves.

The Blue-Eyed boy is regressing. He’s wetting his pants for the first time in months. He’s hitting and biting and kicking and acting like a baby. I feel lost sometimes. What am I doing wrong? I’m not sure, I have some ideas but nothing concrete. I think it’s probably a combination of living here and the attention his sister gets for just being a baby. I feel like I’m too hard on him all the time, and all I do is tell him don’t do this, don’t do that. don’t don’t don’t. I’m like a broken record.

I know I sound depressed this morning, and maybe I am. I have every right to be–our life has been turned upside down. But just because I have the right doesn’t mean I want to be. I have every right to run around the yard in my underwear, but that doesn’t mean I want to. There are good things about living here. We’re living rent free, only paying utilities. We’re a short 10 minute walk to the beach, and I’m getting an awesome tan for the first time in my life (well as tan as a fair-skinned, red-haired, Polish-Irish girl who lives in Michigan can)! But today I needed to talk about the rough side. Maybe then I can move on. Maybe then I can stop feeling so damn sorry for us and just be content with what we have now. Maybe I could be happy again, or “fix” my son. So I could feel like doing more than checking out and watching T.V. all day. I could be a better wife and mother.

We do have so much, so many blessings.

I just can’t see it right now. And that scares me.

Returning July 11, 2009

The past few months have been pretty crazy. I’m still reeling from all that has transpired in our lives in such a short time. I’m not sure that I could even coherently explain all that has happened, and I’m not sure I want to try to tell all of it. Not yet anyways.  I’m still trying to figure out all my feelings for myself, let alone to share with anyone (that is if anyone still reads my blog? I know, I know it’s been a long time). But I’m sure in time it will come. For now you all will have to be content with the little bits and pieces I’m ready to talk about.

My hiatus (is that the right word? I don’t know, but lets go with it) from the Internet has enabled me to think about blogging a bit. Not in the IhavesomethingtosayanditsucksthatIcan’t way, but in a more whytheheckdoIhaveablog way. I have had a lot of time to explore my motives behind starting a blog and whether I still feel the same way. I think originally I started a blog because it was the thing to do (yes if everyone was jumping off a bridge I would too) so I plunged in. I had dreams of thousands of readers and aspirations of actually being “popular” for the first time EVER.

It sounds foolish to me (and probably you too) now. I don’t have any of those same thoughts anymore. I guess maybe I grew up over the almost three years (has it been that long?) I’ve had a blog. My blog is for me. It’s my place to write down my thoughts, and if people want to stop by and listen in on those thoughts-go right ahead. But I’m not going to be trying to get you here. I’m over fame (now if only I could get over fourtune).

All this is not to say that anything is going to change around here. The change is in me, and me alone.

7 little updates jumping on the bed……. May 7, 2009

1. The Blue-Eyed Boy did indeed wear the sweater vest (after only about 10 minutes of negotiating him into it–oh I felt the love).

2. My Red-Haired Girl has been walking for a month now (sorry so late on telling ya’ll).

3. The Hunk got a job–he started yesterday. Praise the Lord!

4. We are hunting for a new place to live, in Grand Rapids. If you don’t know that is an hour from here. But that’s where the job is. I’m actually quite happy to be going back to the city.

5. Our next place needs a lot of windows. I mean a TON. Oh how I miss the sunshine.

6. The Hunk got a flat tire on the way to his second day of work.

7. I chopped all my hair off. It was past time for a change.

All in all, even with it’s unpleasantness —life is good.

Life’s little ironies….. April 2, 2009

I keep trying to start this post and I get stuck. My thoughts are all jumbled and mixed together in a massive blob of emotion. My fingers are feeling rusty. Add to that the frustration of the batteries dying on our wireless keyboard and the fact that it just took me 2 minutes to type all that because the darn thing can’t keep up with my typing speed and that’s where I am. (not to mention the 5 interruptions of having to run and keep the Red-Haired Girl from killing herself by playing with an electrical outlet and having to crawl under the couch to rescue some cars for the Blue-Eyed Boy).

So I guess I’ll start where I left off on our journey into the world of homeless and joblessness.

The first week of March we were packing and getting everything organized to move. Everything was going along well- I was getting things done, not as quickly or as easily as I wanted too. But as fast as I could with a toddler and a fast crawling, pulling-herself-up-and-walking-along-everything bundle of curiosity. The plan was that we would move the majority of our things (especially the big ones) in the moving truck on Monday. That would give us the rest of the week to clean the house and not have to be stressed out.

Then Wednesday night hit. I woke up to the Red-Haired Girl barfing in my face. Oh the joy. At least she’s still little enough that a) her barf is just like spit up, (but really, who likes having their own breast milk shot into their face?) and b) she would wake up, barf, and immediately fall back asleep (oh to be a baby). She did this 3 times, I think. In the morning she was fine.

But  the Hunk wasn’t. He proceeded to barf his guts out for the rest of the day.

Thursday night was my turn. I don’t think I’ve ever barfed so much in my life. gross.

Friday the Blue-Eyed Boy got it. There is nothing sadder than a sick toddler. He had no idea what was happening to him and would scream bloody murder at the top of his lungs after he barfed, “I’m all done!” It was so sad.

Saturday we were done barfing, but still all felt like crap.

Sunday my poor husband had to go to his last day of work. He was pretty much better but weak. It was a long day for him. I spent the day packing like a mad-woman because we were moving THE NEXT DAY, and had lost four days of packing due to The Sickness.

But we moved fine. The week of stress free moving and cleaning up the house that I had hoped for didn’t happen and I ended up being frazzled to no end. But we got that house all cleaned up and got our deposit back (woo hoo!). We’re still not completely moved in here, but just have a few minor things left like hanging the pictures on the walls and I have to organize all of my sewing stuff (oh the horror that is my sewing area!).

Well that’s all I have to write about for now. Tune in later for pictures of the completed sweater vest! (you know you can’t wait!).