One Year & One Day

I made it through the one year anniversary of my Mom's death with no tears.  I wasn't striving for that (heaven knows I've learned the value of tears in this last year!), but it was such a good, positive day, focusing on things we love and miss.

Today, I sit at "work" (my internship site) and I can't seem to keep the tears from streaming. Not entirely sure why now, but I'm just going with it.

I post on FB, so then I tend to think that's enough, but I'll post about it again.  We put messages in balloons and sent them off yesterday.  I loved it, it felt like I was communicating with my mom in some way, and the kids loved it.  Avee wrote for one of her messages, "What's it like up there?"  She watched my face closely as I read what she wrote.  She was prepared for me to think it was funny, but I could see in her face it was more than that.  I smiled and told her, "I love that Avee" and I watched her own the thought.  She was ready to disregard it as silly if I laughed.  I see so much of me in her.

Bo wrote, "I think about you all the time" which did my heart good to see.  I do too.  And sometimes I feel like it's just me.  Sometimes selfishly, I forget how big of a role she played in their lives too.

My sister and I were talking yesterday about how it still doesn't feel real.  I thought I felt that way because I haven't lived near her for so many years; but my sister who never lived more than 5 blocks away her whole life, feels the same.  I guess that's what happens when you're heart and soul are larger than life and you live on so vibrantly in the lives of other.  Yesterday I thought a lot about if I'm living that kind of life.

One of the things about my mom being gone that consistently stings is not being able to share things with her.  My heartaches, my victories, my struggles, my children....

I had a day a couple of weeks ago when I got some bad news and I couldn't wait to get off the phone to call my mom and talk to her about it.  I hung up and immediately started to dial her.  That was awful.  I felt like the wind was knocked out of me and I was gasping for air for the next two or three hours.  I called my cousin sobbing.  I hadn't talked to her for a few months so I'm sure that was a really fun phone call for her.  Talking to people in those moments who know just how deep the void is, is really helpful.

Anyway, I thought I'd document some of those things I'd like to tell her.  The thing about telling my mom was, I was never bragging, never having a pity party, never stupid, never so wrong, never alone.  Even if I was having a pity pary or being stupid, she didn't call it that. 

J and I have navigated some difficult roads the past couple of years and we are good.  I'm thinking less that I am someone who doesn't deserve him and recognizing more what an incredibly good team we make.  I definitely think I scored a million times over, marrying him.  But so did he, and I love seeing that play out in our lives. 

I can hear my mom say, "Oh Angela, he is just darling. He's a good father, he's your friend, he cares about people, he's so sweet to me...don't you ever think for a minute he isn't wonderful.  He is."
I've learned so much about myself in this last year that it blows my mind sometimes.  I think I finally have something to write a book about! :)  I love what I've learned.  I've loved learning how weaknesses don't lessen you, they make you real and give you something to work for.  I've learned that vulnerability is attractive. It's desireable.  In my opinion it's a form of perfection.  When I can get past my own belief that no one should see all of who I am, weak, strong, scared, confident, lonely, loved, ambitious, lazy, angry, calm, doubting, sure.... the doors it opens are so fulfilling.  I've had experiences in the last several months where I had to just kind of hang up my fears of rejection and plunge right through a door of uncertainty.  All the things I've done to protect myself, were protecting me from nothing.  They were actually limiting me.

I don't even know if I can articulate these thoughts concisely.  I have lived a long life of not letting myself be vulnerable, constructing exactly what I thought people should see.  Peeling away those layers of self-imposed judgment has lightened my load.  Instead of focusing energy on what I think people should see and know, I am able to focus my energies on taking things in, experiencing more fully, simply loving more. I. LOVE. It.

I can hear my mom say, "This is so WONDERFUL. You have always had the courage and strength to do things I could never do."

AJ is an angel.  I look at her and think we've made perfection.  For the fourth time. :)  She is smart and funny and tenacious and even-tempered and opinionated and a "very communicative non-verbal".  That is what they called her at the hospital in November.  The other day J was reading to Bo on the couch and snapped a couple of times at the other kids to be quiet so he could read. AJ was puttering around humming/babbling to herself.  She got kind of loud, but how do you tell a baby to be quiet when it's so darn cute?  So J just read a little louder.  AJ also got louder.  He tried going a little louder without making any fuss about it.  Soon, AJ was full on yelling her baby babble.  It seemed so hilariously intentional but it just wasn't.  Although J was probably annoyed that he couldn't simply read in peace, it was too funny not to laugh.

Sometimes I pull AJ to me and smoosh on her face and cover her neck in kisses like you would.  I mourn that she won't know personally the greatness, the strength of character that she comes from.  I ache that she won't get the lipstick reminder of your constant love.  I try to watch her through different eyes, just to see what you would tell me about her.  You always saw unique things about all of our children. I love your view of them. 

I can hear my mom say, "She is soooooooo darling.  All of your kids are--such perfect little personalities, all so unique!"

I love this program I am in.  I never could have known what it would do to me, to my life.  I can't believe I'm almost done.  I am eager to be at home with my children and have some semblance of control over my schedule again.  I am anxious to have those letters behind my name and the accomplishment of a very big goal.  I am so proud to being doing this and to have accomplished this.  But I also never want some of it to end.  I am in a very nuturing, "mistakes are expected" environment with some really, REALLY incredible people surrounding me.  I could live like this forever!  But, I'm paying for it in money and time, so there will definitely be perks to it ending.

I can hear my mom say, "It's nice to have this experience, but life just has to move on, doesn't it?"

I remember starting this program 2 years ago and looking around the room at my classmates, feeling like an outsider, knowing I would never connect with any of them.  My classmates rallied around me when AJ was in the hospital for a week and sent love, support, balloons, cards, cookies, phone calls and messages.  Who are these people I was sure I'd never connect with?  One always has my back.  When you died, she was there. When the road was too hard, she pushed me through what had to be done.  When I was withdrawing, she called me on it.  I didn't even know she was doing it when she was. That's how connected we are.  Another hears what I say and shows me regularly I matter. Not because she's trying, just because that's how she loves.  She makes me feel smart, connected, funny, and can make me laugh until I cry. You know that's not easy.  It's amazing how you can feel so "complete" with the relationships you have and then others come along and remind you that you aren't. 

I can hear my mom say, "Oh you've made friends wherever you are, I can't believe you ever thought this would be different.  I just can't get over what wonderful people ALL of your friends are! Who's that little one that...."

All of my friends are "little ones", just by comparison. :)

I wrote an essay for a contest with the American Counseling Association.  I never really put myself out there to be judged. If you don't put yourself out there, you don't ever have to face rejection.  I have become a master of avoiding even perceived rejection.  I definitely didn't think I'd win anything, but I also knew I had nothing to lose.  Winners get a free registration to the conference in March. I must admit, that was a strong motivator because I wouldn't be able to afford going otherwise, and all of my friends were going this year.  Well I got runner up!  At first I thought that was honorable mention, which is fine, it's still something! But then I found out there was a winner, and then 4 runners up, and I was one of them!  That felt good.  I was one of the top five out of nearly 300 essays.  Funny thing is, even after winning I felt myself slip into what my counselor calls "the imposter syndrome".  I immediately began thinking how I "fooled" everyone and it really wasn't great, and how all the other submissions must have been REALLY bad if I won....
It's so crazy that I do that to myself.  I am a good writer. I wrote something that enough people liked that it got selected.  I am going to own it. 

I can hear my mom say, "I can't believe you doubted your writing ability, I could read what you write all, all day!  Don't let it go to your head so you start writing poopy because you don't have to try! Hahaha, I know you wouldn't.  Does that mean you're going to the conference? Are you going to be leaving those babies?  It's hard on them Angela, don't think it isn't.  They need their mom.  I remember when I went to Boston...."

Bo submitted a science fair project the day it was due.  I happily took him to Hobby Lobby and let him pick up the stuff he needed.  I even felt proud of his initiative to get it done!  Then I learned the actual fair was the next day.  He was going to show up at the fair, with a project.  I knew it didn't work that way so I started asking questions.  He produced a permission slip that he said he could take with him the day of. It said, "Please sign and return no later than January 11th."  It was February 6th.  I lectured Bo pretty exstensively.  Unpaid car payments get cars repoed.  Unpaid mortgages get houses taken.  He was given instructions with a deadline and he's not an exception to the rule.

The next morning he woke up with a rehearsed speech for his science teacher, taking responsibility for his slackerliness, and asking permission to still be allowed to participate.  It was a humble and kind of darling "speech" he had memorized the night before, before falling asleep.

His teacher said yes.  Of course I was happy that he didn't have to be disappointed, I can't help but feel that.  But I was also a little annoyed that he wasn't getting told no.  I felt like it would be a good natural consequence to help him increase responsibility.  Oh well.

He came home three days after the fair grinning like a smug little turkey.  His project won.  This victory wasn't lost on him either.  I had to just laugh it off.  I guess he'll learn responsibility the hard way, somewhere else.

I can hear my mom laughing, "Oh dear", she'd say as she laughed, "You'll be dealing with a whole 'nother set of challenges with this one!  You and J are the perfect parents for him though.  I think about what a team you and J make and whoooooooeeeeee, you two pack a punch!"


We're waiting to see if J will get into PA school this year.  I hate being in limbo like this.  We met a guy who tried for 3 years to get into PA school and finally gave up and started another program.  That kind of scared the bajeebies out of J.  But, I know things will work out, even if not on the time frame we'd like.  I just hate the waiting.

I can hear my mom, "Meeeeeee too! Ach! I hate waiting and worrying. You're better than me though, I don't sleep when I have to wait and worry---and then everything gets ugly really fast!"

Hmmm, I feel better already!

Shame's Eviction Notice

I was listening to Brené Brown talking about shame and had a flood of thoughts and emotion suddenly fill me.  I think about how much I've let shame guide my thinking, make my decisions.  I thought back on my first real experience of recognizing the shame.

I was 25 years old.  Yeah, I had been alive a quarter of a century before I recognized even an ounce of shame in myself.  I know I was oblivious to it before because I worked with a professor, very closely, in my undergraduate program, researching guilt and shame. I am a published Jr Author on an article about shame but none of it ever applied to me.

I was driving from Saint Louis to Kansas City over Labor Day weekend and one of my friends, a coworker, was making the trip with me.  We were about 15-20 minutes from my childhood home when my friend said, "So, what did your dad do for a living?"  I felt the familiar feeling of my heart sort of skipping a beat, my face flushing (with shame, unbeknownst to me though!) and my mind racing for what answer I would give this time.  The memory of 7-year-old Nobody filled my mind, completing school test forms and coming to the line "Father's Occupation _______".  I'd pause over that blank for 3-4 times longer than any other.  Should I leave it blank?  Should I lie?  Should I tell a half-truth?  I was certain any one of those would get me "caught" and I've have some 'splaining to do.  Most of the time I settled for "half-truth" and would write "Self-employed" or "Construction".  My dad didn't work for anyone else, so if he worked, it was "self-employed" and he could build, rewire, plumb, repair anything. So, I could justify that answer, if anyone red-flagged it.  I was sure one day I would get caught.

So here I was, 25 years old, college graduate, working at a law firm, enjoying a lot of personal accomplishment and success in life.  What my father did for a living smacked me down to a helpless, hopeless, useless, nothing, with everything to hide.  I decided in that moment, with that friend, "screw it, I'm diving in" and answered, "Gosh, I...I've always been so embarrassed to admit it but my dad didn't really work to support our family. He'd do odd jobs now and then, but we never had money or any real type of income growing up."  I felt like I had just vomited, been exorcised, ran a marathon, and had an un-anesthetized c-section of sextuplets.  I sat there depleted, vulnerable, scared.  What did I expect? I think I expected her to look me up and down, sneer at me and say, "You're pathetic, why are we friends?"

I had spent year after year after year protecting myself from that response.  I was really good at keeping myself safe.  From everyone but myself.

My friend turned to me, seemed to register surprise at my obvious emotional response to "coming clean" and said almost off-handedly, "Why on earth would you be embarrassed about decisions your father made that you had no control over?"

It was as though the heavens parted and a thousand angels descended singing hallelujah and the weight of all that shame I had carried and all the guilt from hiding my shame was revealed for the uselessness that it was. There was no place for it in me anymore.  It was an epiphany if ever there were one.

This comment spiraled my thoughts over the next several weeks, even months, back to my life experiences and conversations I'd had.  I thought of ways I'd behaved, things I'd learned, and how differently they looked now, looking back with my new found knowledge.

I'd like to say this experience started me on a track of being free from shame, but it didn't.  It's just been in the last year, other life experiences that have opened up that door again.  I am seeing things so differently and realizing the burden I have carried for so many years as I've felt shame that wasn't mine to feel, and carried it, at great emotional expense, into relationships and into place that it had no place being.

As I'm listening to Brené Brown speak, I hear her say, that if you can push past the shame that says you aren't good enough and "who do you think you are" and carry on, when you look up, 99% of the time, the critic you see looking down on you----is you.

I'm ready to rid myself of the shame I don't need or deserve. It has done nothing good for me.  It has held me back from successes I would enjoy. It has inhibited me from relationships I could more fully enjoy.  It has clouded my judgment, shriveled my confidence, tainted my view of others.

I'm ready to turn that critic looking down on me into my biggest fan. Feel free to join me.  You're invited.

My October Surprise. Heh, Not Really

I'm writing blog posts in my head. That's how I know I'm overdue.  'Cept, the format is all changed up and I don't know what I'm doing anymore.  I think old people who refuse to learn the internet or get cell phones are actually on to something. I feel like you need a PhD to stay on top of all the changes in technology.

I am enjoying where my kids are at in life.  I really wish life was a little more slowed down for me so I could enjoy them more and get a handle on some things, but on the other hand, I'm so excited to be earning a Masters degree, and learning what I am learning.  My experience in this program is turning out to be life-changing and while that makes it very difficult for me, I am loving the benefits of my hard work and actually even love the hard work. Most days. Also, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I have so much to learn before I reach that light, but it's nice to see an end to this crazy schedule.

Presently we are waiting to hear from PA schools for J.  We have a good backup plan if he doesn't get in this round.  We have no idea what kinds of things hold more weight than others. He's pretty well-rounded in all the requirements and above average in most, but we'll see!  It's kind of exciting to both be working toward higher degrees and positive changes in our lives.  J has enjoyed the "science-y" classes he's had to take, and they've been a challenge as well.  Between him regularly telling me things like the breakdown of DNA or the make up of other molecules and Bo incessantly talking about the presidential race, I spend a lot of time feeling particularly brilliant in my own home.  It's all good. They don't know how to reflect meaning like a boss, so there!

I feel like AJ has gotten the shaft on life documentation.  So naturally, I'll need to make up for that. Brace yourself, here come the baby stories. I will keep the poop and spit up stories to a minimum. Maybe.

She is ten months now. I just noticed within the last week or two, her actively trying to engage and initiate "conversation" or play. I love seeing all the little developmental things...well, develop!  We taught her the sign for "milk" when she was 6 months old. I did it to work up to when she was 9-10 months and she could then say it back (what the books say to do).  She started using it within a week.  I was shocked, but it was awesome to have that communication barrier removed so early.  Only problem is, she now will ONLY do that sign and it means whatever she wants it to.  Much like Bo's sign for "more" meant whatever he wanted, but mostly candy.

Today the neighbor girl came over and AJ was delighted to see her and immediately started moving her lips (without sound) and making hand motions that seemed to be a combination of "milk, more, and popcorn popping on the apricot tree".  She just really wanted to engage so she pulled out all the stops.

We have a four seasons room that we've dubbed the "fun room". It has toys, books, a computer, and a futon.  AJ has taught herself to climb up on the futon, which is terribly cute. Then she can alllllllllmost reach the computer which she tries desperately to do every 5 minutes.  She can reach a small shelf which for some reason makes her feel awesome.  She climbs up and yells, sings, tears things apart, and slaps wildly at the keyboard she can't quite reach.  She actually reminds me a lot of my nephew Thomas when she does this.  It's this tiny little human acting like king of the world that's so darling.

Since she's showed some interest in the toilet recently, we've started potty training. It hasn't really worked out well, but I KNOW she's interested because she's constantly crawling to the toilet and trying to eat toilet paper.

Danyo is enjoying an "extra year" at home with us.  I've noticed when I tell people "yes he's five but we kept him out a year" that a lot of them kind of try to make me feel better about having a stupid five year old.  It's really kind of sweet, but it's also funny. I have no embarrassment about keeping Danyo out an extra year. I sometimes regret putting Bo in, even though academically if he was still in 3rd grade he'd probably be dying. Danyo is learning to schmooze even better, working at keeping his temper under control, and perpetually charming the socks off of all of us.  He's just so dang cute.  This morning he sat on the edge of my bed, hanging his head down dejectedly, with one arm wrapped around a giant teddy bear named Teddy (he gets ridiculously creative with his animals names, we have a "Beary" and a "Hoppy" and a "Chocolate Moosey") and his other hand clutching his blankie, "I just wanted to snuggle with you the whole night.  I just want to snuggle right now too."  How do you say no to that?  I don't. He is my kryptonite. In more ways than one.

One of the very cute and sweet things I've noticed Avee doing lately...well, a little background first.  My schedule is ridiculous right now. I'm gone a lot but also come and go a lot.  Sometimes I'll rush home for a stolen 45 minutes to snuggle the baby and nurse her and hear about the kids' days.  Or I'll have a more lax day with appointments and obligations scattered throughout the day.  Usually when I have to get to class, I'm rushing because I think I can travel in the blink of an eye and that there's never any traffic to contend with, so I never budget enough time.  The last few times I've been rushing to get out the door, Avee has filled my water bottle with ice water, put my bag by the door, and last week, grabbed a wonton off the table for me to eat, since I didn't have time to eat dinner with the family.  It's so nurturing and thoughtful and pro-active.  There is so much about this girl that I adore.  I think both J and I just kind of stand back in wonderment that she is ours. I know a lot of people get to enjoy this feeling with their children. It's a good feeling.

I'm learning to not harp on Bo so much. It's so crazy, even though I KNOW it's not helpful or could be damaging, and that I have more unrealistic expectations of him because he's my oldest, I sometimes simply can't stop myself.  I've been trying really hard to be conscious of this and reign it in a bit.  His latest is to say, "I thought you said..." about EVERYTHING and it will be what he thought I should have said, or what he hoped I'd said, or what his lack of attention led him to do and he fills in the blank. It drives me NUTS.  I should just let it go and say, "no, what I actually said was..." but instead I just want to whack him over the head with a plastic bat. He's developing an even better sense of humor and that's fun to watch. He watches these goofy sketches on Youtube, usually grown men acting goofy in public, and then he imitates them. Like this:  I don't have the patience to watch the videos myself, but when he imitates them, it almost always makes me laugh out loud.  He's obsessed with the election and even when playing with AJ he says things like, "Hi sweet baby, do you wanna talk about the financial crisis, huh sweet baby, huh?"  It's pretty entertaining. He's only kind of trying to be funny, mostly he's just saying what's on his mind.

He has written letters to Ohio and Wisconsin to try and persuade them to vote for Romney.  If you've been reading this blog for a few years, you'll remember that last election the obsession was with Obama.  He has taken this obsession much further since his little mind is capable of understanding more.  His teacher has decided to let them have a mock election on the election day and Bo has taken it upon himself to convince the Obama people to vote Romney and address their concerns one by one.  He's also determined he'll give a speech on election day, his teacher doesn't know this yet.

Excerpt from his letter to the states....oh dear, I just read it. I can't take an excerpt, it's too funny to slice up.

Dear citizens of the following states: Ohio, Pennsylvania, And Wisconsin

If Gov. Mitt Romney wins the election in November 2012, we will have lower taxes, and build the keystone pipeline. The keystone pipeline is a pipe that will start in Canada and end in the U.S., and Canada putts oil through the pipeline and we buy it, and if we don’t build this pipeline they will just build a pipe into the Atlantic ocean, and another countries BOATS will pick it up and we will just have to drill it on our own. And yes we all know what lower taxes means. But why have we had higher taxes under the Obama administration?  Well you’re probably thinking- well NO we HAVE’NT had higher taxes. Well we’re kids and kids don’t pay taxes so that’s weird to say that taxes aren’t lower when YOU don’t PAY taxes. And don’t say that we should have higher taxes because you want to vote for Obama, that’s a bunch of baloney let’s just keep it simple and say  that taxes are bad and just leave it at that. So, the reason we have had higher taxes is because WE KEEP ON PRINTING MONEY!!!! Well you’re’ looking at me like- what? That doesn’t make any sense at all. Well let me take it apart for you, the more money you print, the less money is worth. Now you think I’m talking even crazier! Well think of it as golden rocks.  Imagine there are 4 golden rocks in the world. Would those 4 golden rocks be rare? Now imagine there is a factory that makes golden rocks and gives them out to people. Now the factory made 4 MILLION more rocks. Would those rocks be rare anymore? Same with money, the more money we print, the less it’s worth, like those golden rocks. Now you probably understand that its stupid thinking that barrack Obama has been printing money so WE could have MORE money. So, let’s get to the higher taxes part. If we are printing our sweet precious money, but actually are killing our sweet precious money, the dollar gets more worthless and worthless and worthless. And remember WE have to pay taxes to the federal government, which buys STUFF, if the dollar is getting worthless to them, and then WE have to pay more money to THEM because THEY need more MONEY to run our country. So if the dollar isn’t that worthless, then we don’t have to pay more money to them, we’re paying the same amount of money as if the dollar IS worthless. So when barrack Obama say’s ‘I want higher taxes’, he means ‘I’ve been printing billions and billions of dollars, and I need higher taxes so I can run our country.’ Oh, and one more thing-

I’m ben and I study politics.

Vote for mitt Romney.

2012

I love that the kid knows about inflation and the Keystone pipeline better than most adults, and yet can't seem to remember that first names are capitalized. 

Oh, I almost forgot my most favorite quote of the week. "Dad, can you fact check my homework?"
J is so much better about keeping a straight face than I am. Unless it's addressing four-year-old Avee's act of stealing a bean bag from her preschool by way of her underwear. Then he's useless.

Well, this is probably already much too long for most of my closest friends to read. I feel like I should include some pictures or something.  I'll go round some up.

Swearing, Take 3

This afternoon I overheard Danyo say, "Sweet Jesus!"  I quickly reprimanded him. We've been talking to him a LOT this week about what's appropriate to say and what's not.  I used all three of his names and said pretty sharply, "I don't ever want to hear that again, doyouunderstandme!?"  He nodded as he stood still.  I saw a little sadness cross his face. I felt bad for speaking so harshly, sometimes he just gets sensitive to that kind of thing. Other times---not so much.  Then he looked up at me, kind of perplexed and said, "But I thought it was funny?"  I felt pretty crummy doing that to my 5 year old. I leaned down and told him I was sorry for yelling at him so sharply, especially if he thought it was funny, but that I didn't really want him saying things like that. He agreed and ran off to play.

As it turns out....
The other night while I was at class, Avee put dish soap in the dishwasher instead of detergent, and it bubbled out all over the place. Everyone surrounded the machine, staring at the bubbles, and Danyo exclaimed, "Sweet Jesus!"  Apparently the timing was perfect and everyone laughed.  So, he was right. It was funny, once.

These moments tend to stop me in my tracks.  I get caught up in the correcting, corralling, coercing, that I forget to stop and recognize the sweet child that is getting the brunt of all my "mother of the year" actions.  I want to remember his face, and speak more softly, explain more readily, ask questions before getting loud.

In my defense, that boy has been trying out lots of colorful words for size this week.  The fact that he uses words we don't say around here, in perfect context, is both funny and troubling.  Good thing he's my third---we just sort of address it, expect to hear it a few more times while it runs it course, and carry on.  It doesn't help to have the older two giggling hysterically though.

I've said more than once, it's rare that J is funny "on his own".  Most of the time he makes me laugh, he's quoting a movie.  The other day, we were addressing Danyo's choice of words that particular day. He had exclaimed, "Holy sh__" while playing on the itouch, and "Shut the hell up" to Avee, totally casually because she was talking louder than he thought she should.  I am shamelessly airing our dirty laundry. Mostly because I can. Also because it's not really ours. He hasn't heard those words from us.  Pretty sure it's Paper Mario videos on Youtube thankyouverymuch. I put the kabosh on that!

Anyway, as we are sitting across from sweet little Danyo, we tell him there are words we just don't use.  He's listening and seems readily convinced, and I think we are winding down when I hear J say, "So, there are words we just don't say, and those words are...."  It took me long enough for it to register that J paused for a long time and couldn't believe I hadn't already burst out laughing.  J did a funny and I missed it!  I am still proud though.

Depression Is a Liar

After my mom died, a sneaky little depression crept up on me and probably not so subtly turned me into someone I'm not. Because I had a newborn baby, it wasn't easy for some "typical" symptoms to play out---I simply couldn't lay in bed all day, as much as I wanted to. (I came as close to as I could though, some days!)

Two of the main symptoms I suffered from were impatience with my children (and probably J, but this is about the children!) and withdrawal from pretty much everyone and everything. I didn't enjoy social interactions---which pretty much can sum up who I am, otherwise. Conversation was laborious and many invitations went by the wayside because it just felt like too much. I was acutely aware of the impatience with my kids, I have always truly delighted in them. I wasn't enjoying them at all. This broke my heart.

The thing about depression is, it didn't knock on my door and announce its arrival. It sneaked in and infiltrated my thoughts and activities and desires and general way of being. It told me a slow poke kid who has been a slow poke for 9 years, needed to be yelled at because that would solve the problem. It didn't bother telling me that yelling at a 9 year old for not tying his shoes fast enough never feels good, it just kept encouraging me to do so. It told me that reading to my five year old would be painful and suck the life out of me. It didn't tell me that despite his sad eyes and reluctant willingness to let it go, I would still see his sorrow and the rejection; and that it would hurt my heart, but convinced me to stick to my guns on being uninvolved.

It told me my kids were loud, annoying, persistently wanting attention, spoiled, obnoxious, naughty and not worth my efforts. It told me to just "show up" but not do anything more---they wouldn't care or notice. Depression is a liar, and I even kind of knew it. But the magical blanket it throws over you, keeps you from reacting and ignoring the lies it tells.

Then a friend intervened. She took a risk. I could have told her to go suck eggs, and that was a valid fear she had, since she'd seen me in action for several months. But I didn't. I felt like someone had handed me a map in a maze I was trying to navigate, without knowing I was in a maze. "Hey, maybe you are in over your head and need some help, that's what it looks like from here." It was followed by love and encouragement from J and validated by a professor who had seen the decline between one class last year and another class this summer.  Meeting with my doctor was mildly terrifying.  This is the field I am going to be working in, I will probably have to encourage a lot of people to take this step, so it's good for me to experience this.  I was surprised by my fear.  My OB is a darling teency little midwife--she delivered AJ.  Anyone who can survive the hyperventilating drama queen I was during delivery, has my respect. :)  She was kind and gentle and reassuring.  I felt stupid for about 3 seconds and it swept away when she met my tears with quiet support and compassion.

I'm better. I'm myself again. The thing I missed the most, was enjoying my children. I missed being made to giggle throughout the day. I missed enjoying their perspective on things. I missed loving their need for me.

I actually sat down to write about how Avee made me laugh 3 times in the span of about 10 minutes and that I love how effortlessly she can make me laugh. There is no task, no obstacle, no challenge, that girl is presented with where she thinks for a second, "I can't do that." It simply doesn't enter her head.

Our Tuesday mornings are dreaded. Both J and I have to be somewhere at 8 am. The kids don't have to be at school until 8:30, so that cuts about 45 minutes out of our usual routine, combined with getting ourselves up and out the door and the two younger kids to a babysitter. We've only done it once so far and I hate it. Yesterday I told Avee what the hot lunch was (knowing she didn't prefer it) and said, "I'm sorry, we just don't have time to make a lunch, do your best eating the hot lunch."

I left the kitchen and when I came back two minutes later she had emptied yesterday's lunch, was cleaning out the lunchbox in the sink, and had applesauce out of the fridge ready to fill a tupperware with it. She was not taking no as an answer. She wasn't whining and complaining in an effort to take no as an answer, she simply was fixing the problem herself. She even managed to get J to help her and make her sandwich while she did the rest.

But today, today she was cracking me up. I was doing her hair and heard Bo sing a phrase from the Four Non Blondes song "What's Up". So, I started belting out the rest..."and I step outside and I take deep breath and.... I scream from the top of my lungs, What's goin' on? And I say hey, hey, hey, WHAT'S GOIN' ON!?!?!"  I take the "scream from the top of my lungs" part pretty literally. Bo was sort of frozen in place, wondering why I knew some He-Man song and I said, "I used to LOVE that song!" Avee, standing below me, holding her head perfectly still says, "Apparently you still do." She isn't really ever trying to be funny when she says stuff like that, but it always makes us laugh. 

Then on the way to school, five minutes later I said, "I put your glasses in your backpack, be sure to wear them." To which she responded, "Mom, I thought we talked about this and I thought you understood!" I laughed at her scolding words. Her glasses are for reading and computer, close-up work. She was wearing them all the time and it wasn't working for her. When I asked the eye doctor why, she explained that they are just for close up work. I apparently forgot to explain that to Avee. 

As I dropped them off I happen to glance over as Avee's walking away and see she's wearing her arm brace from when she broke her wrist last Spring and couldn't get it casted right away. I laughed out loud. The little malingerer...I called her back. She turned around inquisitively when I called her name. I held up my wrist and tapped it with my other hand. Her little impish grin flashed across her face and she dramatically slunk down in a defeated pose. She pulled it off as she ran back to the car and as she flung it through the window she said, "It was wohth a twy!" Yeah, depression took that joy from me---but with the help of modern medicine and an amazing counselor, mama done got it back!

The Birthday

I looooooooooove my birthday. I love it like I'm 7 years old and think the world is mine on that day. I think it should be a national holiday, where everyone pays tribute to me for....existing. I love the sound of "July 21st", I love seeing 7-21. I LOVE my birthday.

However, as I have grown and matured, I have realized that perhaps that is a juvenile view and that not everyone feels like I do. I turned 27 three weeks after I got married. I worked up my first "married birthday" that nothing short of a visit from the Queen of England would top. Poor J didn't have a chance with the expectations I had worked up in my mind.

It was a Sunday, which in and of itself was lame. :) J got up early and made me a cake as well as breakfast. He made dinner, and he doted on me. I simpered in bed that night about how he didn't get me anything. J's eyes bulged and his hands swept around the room, motioning to the mountains of wedding presents lining the walls in our apartment---"our house is FULL of presents, what more could you possibly want!?"

He was so, so right. I was so, so a brat. Being able to let me put that kind of ridiculousness behind me is one of the many reasons I love J. He didn't attribute that to who I was. I remembered my mom's advice when I was turning 22 on my mission (I mean, really---how much fun could you have one a mission!?). She said, "Don't have expectations and you won't be disappointed." This is great advice. I keep it in the back of my head for a lot of situations. I took it to heart. In fact, I took it so much to heart, that when I opened a cupboard in our kitchen the day before my birthday and saw a huge stash of cupcakes, my roommate was SURE I had found her out, but I just thought she was cheating on our diet. To this day, she's convinced I knew, and to this day, I maintain that I was oblivious.

The morning of my 22nd birthday we had a song practice and so 150 of us met at 7 in the morning in the tabernacle, sitting in the seats where the tabernacle choir performed. I showed up at probably 6:59 and 59 seconds, because almost everyone was there, and because I'm always late. As I walked up the steps, the entire group started singing Happy Birthday. THAT was awesome. Then my friends threw me a surprise party at like 8:15 am. Cupcakes for breakfast. It was an awesome day. It was made most memorable by the silky green nightie my mom sent me. Her explanation for sending me that, as my mother, while on my mission was: It was Victoria Secret AND it was my color. Of course you send your 22 year old daughter a nightie then.

Anyway, I turned...old yesterday. The number appalls me. I don't know why, it just does. J and I have been ridiculously busy, basically tag-teaming it with children, studying, and bare minimum for household chores. We just have to get through this month, and that's what we've been doing. I have barely thought of my birthday.

J staged an intervention. He wrote to my friends that he always thought it was sad in the TV show "Intervention" that all the loved ones sat around reading heartfelt letters, telling the person how they felt AFTER they'd become an addict. Why not express those things as a celebration? So, many of my friends did. It is the single most wonderful gift I can imagine. Friends telling me how much they love me. And in creative ways to boot! I don't think I've laughed and smiled this much in YEEEAAAAAARRRRRRS.

My friend Michelle came over after all the festivities had died down and I had read all the great posts on my FB wall. She wrote me a backwards letter. I had to hold it up to the light to read it. She's crazy and clever like that. Her daughter wrote me a letter and was equally as crazy in her presentation. I can't think of clever stuff like that, so I always appreciate it.

I don't mean to play favorites, but her husband wrote me a book. It is a brilliant masterpiece, complete with illustrations, which he produced in under 10 minutes. I want to record it here, but it needs a little background. No matter how stupid I have to look....

A couple of years ago James and I took our kids to the children's museum. I was wandering around looking at some of the displays and watching the kids. There was a chicken display talking about how many eggs a chicken lays, that the hair on the chicken's head determine the color of the eggs, etc, etc. It was interesting to me, but something stumped me. I couldn't figure out why these chickens would lay eggs, if there was no rooster. I was in my early to mid thirties and didn't know about chickens and eggs. I have moments like this. They are probably "blonde moments" but, you know, I'm not blonde.

So I, an intelligent, articulate, confident, woman, walked up to James and say loudly in front of his 11 year old daughter, "Where do chickens eggs come from, if there's no rooster?" I was completely confident this was a reasonable question for a smart, mother of three to be asking. James' eyebrows shot up and his head sort of tilted to the side, almost as if he was trying to determine my angle---if this was a joke, a well played one. After about 30 seconds of me standing there expectantly, obviously not joking, he looked around and then kind of turned his body to shield his 11 year old from either my stupidity or the content of the conversation that would ensue. Or both.

He slowly and deliberately said, "Well, you know, you have eggs that don't get fertilized that get released every month, right?"

I suddenly realized what I had done and my face flushed red and I backed away and then burst out laughing, and then we laughed for probably a solid 10 minutes. He texted his wife (who worked at the same place as J) and told her what I'd done. She found J and let him know what a discreet genius he was married to. We have laughed about it several times since.

Last night, he wrote me a book/card covering the basics. I won't be able to share the amazing illustrations, but the writing will suffice for your enjoyment.

The Chicken -OR- the Egg? Written and illustrated by: Dr. James _______

Dear Angela,
Now that you are 29 I think it's a good time to tell you a few things. I'm sure you know about bird and the bees - and how they do what they please, but what about chickens?

(A lovely diagram of a chicken, complete with phonetic pronunciation of "hen")
Some chickens are girls and they have special parts that do special things. To tell you the truth not much is known about the female species.

(Another lovely diagram of the rooster)
Notice the male of the species. Head strong, cock sure - he walks around with a comb on his head, bops his head whenever he walks and if he wore pants the would be sagging--no doubt.

(Then the hen and rooster interact)
"Hey baby, I can see you're not wearing anything under that frock. Would you like to come back to my nest?" (the rooster is smiling)

Then they kiss and make baby chickens called chicken nuggets. So if anyone asks you how you like your eggs in the morning--you say unfertilized!!!! Happy Birthday

Educational AND entertaining. Just how I like to learn. :)

My husband is awesome. I doubt he could top this birthday gift. :) He doesn't have to.

This Post Is Listed In The DSM-IV Under "ADD"

I just laid down with AJ to snuggle her to sleep. I've sleep trained, just can't do it with this one. She's my last and just too deliciously cute to put down.

I realized I turn into Super Woman, the moment I lay down. This is how it works. I start thinking about how Avee wants cooking classes and I can't find any in the area for kids. So I decide that I can teach her. I'll start with rice, tonight I'll teach her how to cook rice. Then my mind takes off. I will look up how to teach a 7 year old to cook, and a dozen appropriate recipes. And I'll sew us each matching aprons and teach her each week. By 8, she'll be a professional.

There's a pile of laundry on the floor within my line of view. My mind takes off again. I'm going to take care of that laundry, take that other pile of stuff up to attic finally. The sheets need changing too, I'll change ours and the kids'! As soon as AJ is asleep and I can get up. I'll vacuum the whole upstairs too. Oh yeah, and that pile of clothes to go to Goodwill, I'll finally get that into a bag and in the car. Then I'll start downstairs, the bathrooms, the dishes....

I do this with working out too. I'm going to get up and go for a walk, then I'll come back and do the treadmill. Then I'll make a big healthy salad for dinner. And when I'm laying down, my kids LOVE salad for dinner. They thank me for it.

It's ridiculous how amazing I can make myself be in my head. Then I stand up and it's ALL GONE. I can't recall even a portion of it. I bend down and pick up a binkie and sigh at the effort of this task, and at how overwhelming everything that needs to be done is. I go downstairs, walk past my textbooks that need reading and turn on Netflix. I tell the kids to leave me alone for just 15 minutes. For the 15th time that day.

Also, when the heck did my greatest fantasy become a clean house and a good workout? That's ridiculous. I realized my life was lame and my future bleak when a few months ago I stared into the mirror, dreaming about a defined jawline. No that there is excitin'!

Bo has a friend over right now. When we went to pick him up, his unbelievably adorable 5 year old sister trailed behind him with an absolutely pathetic expression. She had to come over too. She's a chubby little thing and I just want to put her in my pocket and keep her. So, just now she got on the elliptical. I was going to kick her off, like I do all other kids, but I just didn't. She got off about 30 seconds later. She went into the other room, got our Ipod, came back and plugged it into the ellipitical, which I have never done and didn't know was possible, selected music on the Ipod and started exercising to "Killin' Time" by Clint Black. "Eye of the Tiger" came on after and she yelled, "ROCKYYYYYYYY!" and started singing along. All while still working out on the elliptical. Bo tried to "help" her and stubbed his toe and unplugged the ipod within 8 seconds. I picked up the ipod and she grabbed it and said, "I tan dit it." Seriously, a chubby, techno-savvy, exercising 5 year old with a speech impediment, singing Eye of the Tiger. Does it get any cuter?

Today at lunch there were, as per usual, 4 different conversations going on at once. I heard Bo over most of it say, "I put my hot dog in the freezer to cool down, and it was barking when I took it out." He had to explain it to Avee, she thought it was great. I thought it was brilliant. He really does have a good sense of humor. Most of the time he expresses it he's being naughty and I try not to laugh. Not very successfully though.

Mostly I want my kids to understand that if someone else has to be the butt of your joke, it isn't funny. Those were the kind of jokes I told forEVER and people always laughed. I was a senior in college and teasing someone relentlessly, everyone thought it was funny, except the butt of my jokes. My roommate and good friend said, "She's not really mean..." It stopped me COLD in my tracks. It was a good lesson. In my defense, I can take it, just as much as I dished. But that wasn't fair of me to assume everyone could or should.

Don't get me wrong. I make fun of my friends relentlessly. Like my friend who needs symmetry if you touch one side of her body. She has to touch the other side. That just begs for teasing. I can entertain myself for hours with that one. Or my my friends that are OCD about their clean homes, and are friends with me, who takes slovenly to a whole new level...
Until someone convinces me that's mean-spirited too, Imma keep doing it.

I'm halfway through our month of hell. J is at school Monday and Wednesday all day, I am in school Tuesday and Thursday all day. We have to get a babysitter on T/Th because Jay has class every day from 9:30-2:30, then again M and W. Then he goes to sleep late Friday afternoon, to start his weekend of graveyard shift at the hospital. He handles it like a stud. I know if I was doing what he's doing, there would be MUCH more complaining. He never complains. Except when I don't make the kids do their chores. He complains about that.

Studying time is rare and hard to manage. That's why I'm writing on my blog when I should be studying.

Last night after J went to work something fell over in the attic. I had a coronary. I HATE being alone in the house, then knock something over in the attic and I'm done fer. I called J at work, which I've never done before. His 25 year old co-worker managed to call me "Sweetie" 8 times in less than 3 minutes. Impressive, no? By the time J called back I had rigged a shovel up against the attic door, and put Avee in my bed. (The attic door is in her room). I was totally cool by then. Mmm-hmmm.

Being a mom has made me neurotic. If someone breaks into our house when J's gone, I know who to grab first and which closet to hide in. The upstairs phone is always charged. If the house catches on fire, I know who to grab first and three escape routes depending on where the fire is. I've worried a lot and finally determined that I will have to slap Bo if there is a middle of the night emergency. I can't wake that boy up for ANYTHING. I also know how to get us all unbuckled and to safety if we're on a bridge that collapses. AJ has kind of messed with my plan and my reaction time, but we'll get there. In the meantime, we will not cross the bridge as a family. :) I had no idea that it was having kids that made people neurotic. My mom wasn't like this though. In fact, my mom was a total disservice to me with pretty much anything child related. Pregnancy, recovery, child-rearing, disciplining, teaching...she made it all seem very easy.

Hey, wanna know why this post is so long and random? I'm supposed to be studying. Plus, I'm pretty sure I have a diagnosable case of ADD. Diagnosable is apparently not a word.