Learning Everyday

It's been a very long week with some really ugly moments, but some beautiful ones too. I am very tired, very impatient for some time to myself and very happy that I'm not normally on my own with the kids, as I was most of this week. Ah, Deer Camp. You slay me.

I haven't written because I've been too busy/too tired/too mad at various times. I've been thinking of whole posts in my head and ditching them. There are some things I just don't want to write here.

But I can say this: my husband is teaching me such lessons in patience. My children are half of him. There are some amazing attributes and some not-so-amazing attributes. Max has been showing his Shrek ancestry in big ways. Why, just tonight, as all of his other siblings were busy or sleeping, he refused my offer to snuggle with him, pooh-poohed my choice of Christmas book for his bedtime story and was generally bullish after I told him he couldn't turn on the TV.

This is a shout out. I'm alive and well. I'm resilient. I'm a Deer Camp widow. And I'm aching to be in my bed.

Just gotta drag the five-year-old up to bed from the loveseat, where he passed out much like his daddy probably would have, had he been home to do it.

This Side of the Mountain

I have so much to talk about, but I am beat. So instead of posting all the gorgeous photos of holiday visits with family and friends and my best girlfriend's wedding, I'm going to simply post this one. This is a photo of my four kiddos with the newest kid on the block, Mr. Quinten Henry. The future is bright!

Shrek has deserted us once again for Beer, I mean, Deer Camp. The six of us, in all combinations, traveled in many different directions over the past four days. So my house was a bit trashed, and the kids were tired and fussy like their momma. So today, I happily took my planned vacation day, kept Max home from school and got to it. It was a long day, but the house has recovered and somehow turned from fall to Christmas, or at least the hint of it, along the way. (Shout out to my mom for her perfect timing in whisking away most of my kids for most of the afternoon!)

Bedtime was ugly. As I carefully climbed down the stairs after the last kiss goodnight, I thought about voiding the whole experience from my memory. Within minutes though, I was feeling much better. A better perspective emerged. And I realized that while the climb wasn't easy, I was happy to say I was on the other side of the mountain.

I've been helping my cousin with her early nursing relationship with her new babe, and I'm happy to say everyone is thriving. At her baby shower, my sis and I admired all the new baby items in their adorably modern prints and sleek designs. I looked at her and said, "You know, this is all really nice, but we're done with it now," and we shared a ruthless high five. I know they say raising children goes fast. And it does. But sometimes it's good be be on this side of the mountain.

I guess that is my overwhelming feeling right now. It's been a busy fall, and I've been pressed in all sorts of ways. Now, nearing December Eve and in anticipation of the year's biggest holiday, I'm ready to slide down, to slow down, to enjoy.

It was a long climb, but I'm on the downhill now, and the walk looks pretty good.

Bunnies and Butterflies

It's hard to stay on an even keel in this world. Our human emotions can take us so many places, both welcome and unwelcome. We face each day not really knowing what it will bring, but pursuing it anyway because there is no alternative.

I'm becoming even more in tune to the slight--and not so slight--dips in my mood, my energy, my ability to kick it every day. That is remarkable to me: that I am able to discern those slight changes, that I am able to be aware at all of my own self in the spinning, harried ballet that is my motherhood.

I told you last week that I loved fall. And that's true. But it's always been a hard season for my marriage. I sometimes think Shrek's love for the Steelers equals his love for me. And that can be on a good day in the fall. Let's not even start on deer season and the many hunting seasons for every small creature. (Run, rabbits, gather the squirrels and the snipes and get moving...)

On my worst of days, I'm miserable. Womanhood and motherhood team up to pound me into the ground in turn. I'm frazzled, short-fused, unproductive, poor. On my best of days, I'm remembering my reasons, taking life in stride, feeling challenged but triumphant.

Today, I'm all of these things. The weekend is winding down. I'm nearly ready for the b%#*& that is Monday morning. I'm up too late, unshowered, behind on so many things, but maintaining. I'm remembering how I got to see a very special little girl meet her new furry little friend at a birthday party Friday night; how I cleaned, within an inch of its life, my upstairs on Saturday morning; how I rocked my $2 yard sale dress at a wedding that night; how I managed to upright myself and four children and dress all in respectable church clothes all by myself to attend Mass this morn; how I laid on a blanket and looked up at the clouds with my babies at Lake Tweet this afternoon; how I soaked up a visit with my sis, my mom and seven children at my sister's new place; and how I rolled with all the punches. There were about a million details in all of that. It was, it is, my life.

An amazing thing happened tonight. All four of my children were in bed. The sun was still up. I had the urge to go on a run. And my running shoes were actually here at the house, and not in the camper where they've been hibernating most of the summer. I tied those laces, grabbed my iPod, hit the sidewalk and ran. I'm every bit as unfit as I thought I was, but it isn't as bad as it could be. There's an athlete living inside of me, of that, I have no doubt. The madonna has been taking precedence, but it just might be time for the athlete to rise, if only a little.

I ran. I walked. Alternated the two. I planned to wear better underwear next time and to lose the dangly earrings. It was nice. And life-affirming. And necessary.

And, of course, when I got back, I paid for it. The baby had been up, screaming off and on for fifteen minutes. But momma got him back to sleep, rocked the sit-ups, conquered the dishes, had to ask for help on the morning prep and got it.

Tomorrow is another day. It's imminent, welcomed, unknown. I'm not going to wait for the other shoe to drop, but instead force it to land in the right direction.

Here's to hoping the melancholy will be gone, to be replaced, as Lily sometimes says, with "bunnies and butterflies," or, in adult-speak, happiness.

Goodnight Blues

Sometimes you just can't get a good picture....

Wow, am I feeling low tonight... I had hoped to title this post a little more positively - maybe after a glass of wine - but then that last thing happened, and it all went to hell. I am so tired of trying to do it all. I don't know what the answer is anymore, how to keep this working motherhood ship from going over the edge and into the falls. There are so many dynamics. It's not even the details anymore. It's that the major components aren't even in place to keep the whole gig from sliding down the drain.

I got home from work today to a house where everything was wrong. There was a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth from the kids tonight, and a daddy working late to boot. They are all four bathed and sleeping now, and I'm too despondent to even feel a sense of accomplishment.

Mama said there'd be days like these.... only she didn't. Conventional wisdom tells you there will, but I really can't recall my mom ever telling me this.

Women have been mothering for centuries. There have always been challenges. I think the set of challenges today's mothers face can't come even close to the worst of times for mothers through the ages. We've got so many modern conveniences that make the sheer work of motherhood so much easier than it used to be. But we've got too much technology, too much desire for perfection, too much of a role society expects us to fill.

Working motherhood is for the birds. There are good days at work, good days at home and a whole lot of terrible days, where nothing jives, no one is happy and momma's candle is burnt all the way down on both ends.

I don't know what the answers are for me, but I'm not going to give up on finding them. I'm holding on to the few smiles I can remember tonight, the few moments where I wasn't feeling clobbered by the messy house, the mosquito I can't seem to find but who won't stop finding me, the kids that were acting out the way that I feel. And I'm hoping those kids, bad though they were, forget the yelling and grumpiness that was their mother.

I'm hoping I'll be back next time in a much better place. In the meantime, if you know of an awesome sitter who wants to watch my kiddos while I do the work "thang," give me a yell. 'Cause on top of everything else, the perfect one I had lined up just fell through. (And, of course, I understand. Our plates are ours to fill, and we can only guess at our limits.)

So goodnight, moon. Goodnight, you. Goodnight, overwhelmed. Goodnight blues.

Mother Up

I've been thinking about this a ton lately. I've been a mom for almost eight years. I've had four children in that time. I have been busy, tired, challenged, blessed. I once heard of a woman at Ohio University who choreographed a ballet based on the movements of motherhood. I often have that mental image of myself: gracefully nursing a newborn on one foot while swooping in with an arm and a tissue to wipe another child's nose and then pirouetting just in time to stick out my pointed toe to stop a third child from getting hit by a closing door.

My life has been one of rapid chocolate-milk stirring, endless details, mountainous laundry. But now, oh now, I believe the work will begin in earnest.

And, by this I mean, the work of motherhood is shifting. While I've been physically growing kids, keeping them out of danger, offering my own body as sustenance, I hope I have also laid the groundwork for good morals, awesome work ethics and general humanitarianism. Because now, I have a seven-and-a-half-year-old girl, which, for those of you that haven't heard, is the new eleven. That is to say, this girl is picking up the sass, being marketed to as a "tween" and wishing for, but thank God, not yet asking for, her own cell phone and laptop. She's seven!

She's at a very formative age. It's a pivotal time to be her mother.

And it's a whole new ballgame. If I play this inning right, I'll have the kind of relationship I really want to have with her as she ages and runs into the icky stuff: the mean girls, the steep learning curves, the dark corners and who knows what else! And, let's face it, her worst enemy might be herself.

How do I grow a girl who isn't full of herself, yet believes in and values herself?

I have the memory, the hindsight and the wisdom to know that finding myself was not easy. My daughter will have to do it for herself. It's one of those things: you can't get around it, you just have to go through it.

I have faith that we'll do this together. We'll keep talking about what is and isn't right, fair, respectable. We'll mess up, both of us. I already know I've made some mistakes. But I am going to keep pouring on the love. I'm going to remind myself that while the baby needs to nurse, the two-year-old is playing in the toilet and the five-year-old is "baking" in the kitchen, that there is a seven-year-old still keening to spend time with me, still needing those "snugglefests" and back scratches. She not only tolerates me at this point, but she wants me around.

So, you see, this is the work of which I speak. While my motherhood hasn't exactly been easy, I have a feeling it will become harder, in some ways. I'm up to the challenge. I'm going to "mother up" and do this with my eyes, arms and heart wide open.

These are the best days of my life. Never again will I have the opportunity to shape my children the way I can and will in the next decade.

Ain't nobody gonna hoe this row for me. It's time to "mother up."

Skinny by Summer

One of the things I said many times in my early unexpected pregnancy was that with the baby due in February, I'd be "skinny by summer." Well, it's summer, and I'm not yet what I would call skinny. But, seriously, I'm not really the skinny type. I like to be healthy and strong, and have never been, nor wanted to be, anything like fragile. I have begun to miss working out, though, and I really do need to "whittle my middle" just a couple of inches. Just a couple of inches would expand my fitting wardrobe by about 100 percent.

And so, tonight begins a sit-up regimen. I'm going to work these obliques. I can't promise a lot right now in the way of fitness--other than the fact that I go through my life in an intrinsic ballet of motherhood every day--but I can promise sit-ups. And if I can get that done, I'll eventually want more of those feel-good endorphins. You know, if you give a mouse a cookie... Ah, well, maybe that is not the best analogy.

At any rate, I have about a million better things to think about than how I look in a bikini after having had four kids in seven and a half years, the youngest of which is only five months old. I am a smart girl, after all.

Life with my four blessings continues to amaze me. There are new challenges and rewards everyday. My little man Luke seems to be hitting a growth spurt. I'm getting even less sleep right now with all of his nighttime waking to eat, and he continues to love every spoonful of baby food. The other kids are tired, always it seems, but hanging in there. We will get caught up soon.

I'm excited for a long weekend of camping with several other activities sprinkled in. I'm ready for family visits around the campfire and pigpen kids climbing out of the creek. It's summertime in America, and I must get to a fireworks display.

But first, one hundred sit-ups! Isn't this fun?! Check back on Thursday, when I hope to post my midpoint review of how I'm doing with that New Year's resolution I made back on January 1st.

And how are you doing?

No Use Crying

Nope, not me. I'm not crying over forgetting to take breast milk to the sitter's house, wasted gasoline, liquid creamer all over the kitchen floor, a $119 speeding ticket or Lily getting on the wrong bus and coming home to an empty house. No, there is no use crying.

I did almost cry when I had a nice moment with a coworker this morning during which she asked me what God was telling me and I said, "To hang on."

And I did almost cry when I heard my crying girl over a neighbor's phone today, sobbing from hearing her mommy trying to reach her on the answering machine but not remembering, in the moment, that in order to talk on our new phones, you press a green button and not the center button.

I knew this year would be hard. First years with new babies always are. And guess what? This year is hard. Really hard. (Really.)

I'm fighting the urge to make changes... I won't make changes. I'll hang on and roll with the punches. I'll push on, and, soon, I'll look back to see the progress I've made.

And if I can keep this perspective, just get through the not-so-hot days, cherish the good days, and see that most days are both, at any given moment, I'll come out of this crazy thing a better person. I know the weather will improve--hopefully before we all grow fins--and these days will be infused with the Vitamin D I've been needing.

And there's no use crying. Unless, of course, I need to. Then I will. But no, not now. I'm good. =)

Light a Candle

Image courtesy of freefoto.com.

Bad things happen to good people. You don't have to look very far these days to know this. This past weekend, in particular, was a reminder of that truth. The world watched as coverage of the earthquake, the tsunami and, now, the nuclear disasters in Japan, unfolded. Tucked in my warm house, with all my chicks in the nest, plentiful clean water, too much food and not a care in the world about how I'd make it through the next days, I watched, too.

I watched much of it while browsing the Internet, checking my Facebook account and posting on this very blog. I started Googling my memories of the tsunami in Thailand and Sri Lanka, thinking I remembered hearing Nate Berkus, of Oprah Winfrey Show fame, lost his partner in that disaster. My memory served me right. I was wrong, though, in thinking it happened a couple of years ago. It actually took place in 2004. How quickly we forget when our own lives aren't affected.

I was blessed to stumble upon something Nate Berkus actually wrote in the year after the loss of his partner. While all of it was well-written and enlightening, a couple of lines really struck me. Though he didn't feel he'd ever move on from his grief, a good friend of his gave him a basket of beautiful candles for his birthday and told him, "You can light a candle or curse the darkness." In his words, "We lit the candles."

This amazing quote came in handy for me on Saturday when I comforted a wonderful friend after the unexpected and tragic loss of one of her relatives.

We've all been there. In the fresh face of disaster, of that terrible thing you can't believe happened or is happening, it's hard to imagine that life will go on. There's no tomorrow, next week, next year. It's all about getting through this hour and the next hour and the one after that.

As bystanders, it's hard to know what to do to help. We can pray and donate money to aid those in Japan, we can lend a shoulder and an ear to friends and family suffering their own catastrophes here at home. And we can trust our guts, be quiet and listen to know just what is needed and what might help.

I once had a close relative in prison to whom I wrote letters on a weekly or biweekly basis. How do you start a letter to someone in prison? "How are you?" is kind of a dumb question. What I learned worked, at least in our case, was "How are you today?" Because, to someone in crisis, it's actually a very tender and thoughtful question. It acknowledges and allows for the roller coaster lows and highs we all experience, but especially in times of trouble.

And so, for Japan and for dear friends mourning one of their own, tonight, I light a candle. I invite you to do the same.

Find Some Peace Tonight

One of the few photos of me since I became a mother of four....

Today was one of those days. I think it actually started last night. I was surfing a Web site with salary information for public employees. These weren't just any public employees. They were people I work with, know and love, in some cases, and in other cases, not so much. Let me tell you: the disparity in wages is just unbelievable.

I finally hauled myself off the Internet and into the shower, where I continued to think about how some people are paid far more than they are worth and how others never will be paid what they deserve. Because, really, aren't we all human beings? Don't we all bring something useful to the table?

And I've said it a hundred times in my life if I've said it once: I hate money. I hate how money makes people mean. How it prompts people to do things they shouldn't do and give up things they should never give up. How it defines us and how it divides us.

I often struggle with my status as a part-time working mother. I'm not a working mother in the way those that work full-time are working mothers. And I'm not a stay-at-home mother, since I'm gone from my house for ten-hour days three days a week to work. I'm in the middle. And while I would love to make more money, I do believe I have the best of both worlds.

But as the Sarah McLachlan song goes, There's always some reason / To feel not good enough / And it's hard at the end of the day. I think that's where I started this bad day, in thinking, while toweling off after my shower last night, that my salary was somehow subpar, that if I could just muster up the energy, the drive, the gumption to bite the bullet and go full-time, we might just realize our dream of moving to the country. That the kids could run and play outside in their own trees and on their own acreage and that they could finally have the pets they want.

So I went to bed in a funky mindset. Thankfully, I was smart enough to know it. I started to craft a prayer to make myself feel better and bring myself back into the happy place of gratitude. "Dear Lord, thank you for this husband, this good man, lying to my left, snoring. Some military women don't get to hear their husband's snore for months at a time. Thank you for this healthy baby snoozing in his bassinet to my right. Some babies aren't so healthy. Thank you for my kids sleeping peacefully in their beds. Some kids don't have safe, warm places to sleep..." And it helped.

Alas, I still woke up today to rain and gray skies both inside and out. It was a day for napping on the couch, for giving in to gloom, for being a quitter. But I couldn't be a quitter, because I am a mother.

So I struggled through my blues, and it wasn't pretty. I had a fight with Max and needed hot tea for my sore throat because I yelled at him so loud. What is wrong with me? I nursed and cajoled a baby to sleep about eight times, only to have his older brother Colby shriek so much that he woke him right back up at least half of those times. My bad mood seeped into Lily, who was a bull all afternoon.

And now, hours after the kids have gone to bed, my head is still pounding.

But I know there will be days like these. It's one of the tough things about my job as a mother. The one that doesn't pay in dollars, but in hugs, kisses, heart swells and pride. The one job I know I am meant to do.

While I am not paid what I might be worth, I value motherhood. I know there are so many of you in my shoes. I get you. I appreciate the job you do in trying to raise kids that will be a part of a better society. We should all be millionaires. In the ways that matter, we already are.

Elevating the status of mothers everywhere starts with us. We have to value our work and each other and get this done.

May you find some comfort here.

Jaundice Be Gone!

Oh, my dear readers. What a week! It has been one of unexpected twists and turns, and I am so behind on so many things that it's overwhelmingly not. Does that make any sense? I have reached a point in my life and in my motherhood where I know my limits. That is to say, I see where I want to be and I accept where I am. Blogging has waited for me, as will many other things.

My Luke has had a harder week than I have. He's been undergoing light therapy for jaundice. Together, he and I spent seven days and six nights in the hospital over the course of eight days. I'm happy to report that my little man is quite the trooper. His feet look as though little ninjas have had their way with him, to the point that his daddy says his feet must be so sore that "he won't walk for days."

It seems Luke suffered from breast milk jaundice. He's steadily gained weight, almost reaching his birth weight again at only a week old. But something about the combination of his liver and my breast milk has caused his body to hold on to bilirubin, making him a bit on the sunny side.


I cried at times, as did he, but we're here now, on this side of the mountain, with more perspective than I could have guessed. As a veteran nursing mom, I was surprised by this new challenge. But, as my sister said, I have now passed the jaundice test.

This morning's blood draw showed his level just shy of goal. While we were permitted to return the bili-blanket to a home health care company, we have one more lab visit and stick tomorrow morning. I have come to believe that our new pediatrician is more conservative and cautious than most, but, in this day and age, I will not bemoan a doctor who cares too much but instead appreciate the level of care my Luke has been blessed to receive. Still, it is my sincere hope that this will be the end of it, and that we can finally, truly settle in at home as a family of six.


Many of you already know about my week, because I've been able to stay in touch on Facebook with my new Droid, which I think is sometimes smarter than I am. Alas, I have been so thankful for that thing. It allowed me to stay sane when staying sane was hard to do. I texted my sis and my hubby in the middle of the night, downloaded a stress-relieving Yahtzee app, researched jaundice at all hours and stayed in touch with friends and family via Facebook and plain old telephone calls.

To all of you who have thought of us, said a prayer, made a meal, watched a child of mine or more in the past 12 days, THANK YOU. It helped.

In spite of the C-section, the multiple hospital stays, missing my other kids and being at the mercy of never-ending lab results, I feel remarkably grounded. This is my element. If I am anything, I am a mother.

I'll slip sometimes and have bad days. But I'll lead my family through thick and thin, and I'll do it with confidence, pride and joy.

With any luck, I'll get more sleep than I did last night, more peace than I had last week at this time and more wisdom than I ever dared to believe I'd need.

Because this motherhood gig is a crazy ride. But I'm in it for life.