Panic

It has been a while.  Lots has happened.  Great things have happened and lots of normal things.  There have been some sad and bad things, but we've made it through.

I need to therapeutically get some things off my chest and will probably regret putting this out there, but hey, life is about being real and taking risks right?

Over the past month, I've been working to process, exorcise, swallow, and breathe through a bunch of panic.  I was feeling great, for a while, at peace, happy, excited, basking in contentment and then little by little it crept up on my until I'm just drowning in it.  There are several contributing factors.  First is job certainty. . .not that I will HAVE a job but what will my job BE after July.  My job is funded through then and after that I'm not sure what I will be doing.  Then we are planning to start expanding our family in May.  I'm thrilled and yet terrified with this prospect.  With Roman, I had a less than glorious birth experience, then I lost a baby, I struggle with my weight, the list goes on and on and on.  So I have a higher rist of a repeat c-section. . .there was a new study released today that links obese mom's with higher risk of autism.  On top of that I'm raising a little boy.  We're getting to the age where I don't feel on solid parenting footing.  I have boundary issues, so sometimes instead of being the parent to my child at this age, I just keep DOING for him instead of TEACHING him.  For example, teaching him to wash himself. . .it's just easier and faster to do it myself. . .as a baby I was all about exloring, learning lessons, etc, etc, etc. . . .what happened?

We're not in church as we should be. . .that is laying heavily on me as well.  I've been having to answer some really hard questions from Roman recently about Jesus, God, Heaven, the Cruicifiction, the Resurrection, death. .. you name it.  One of my thoughts is, "Wow, regular Sunday School attendance would really explain some of this so I don't have to" and also "I would be so much more prepared to answer these questions if I was faithfully in the Word" then guilt piles upon guilt, which spawns panic, and then we're down the rabbit hole.  You see the pattern here?

And just to put the icing on the cake, I feel like I'm drowining in STUFF.  Stuff that I want to get rid of and simultaniously am hesistant to be rid of because I might need it or I paid xyz for it. . .REDICULOUS.  AND. . .I'm the only one who is currently bothered by it. . .I can't seem to get my husband, God love him, put away his dang clothes much less throw something away. 

I HATE feeling this way.  I can get my head above it sometimes but other times I'm either using all my skills to ignore it or am suffocating in it.  It makes me feel so inept at life.

Oh the joys of little boys!

Being the mother to a little boy is an adventure.  A HUH-LARIOUS adventure.  We have so many interesting conversations and situations.

One such happened last night.  Roman was getting ready for his bath, using the potty, buck naked of course.  I came in to get the water ready and noticed he was feelin' around down there.  All kids do this, of course, and we talk about it etc.  He's a squisher and I noticed he was squishing his "tenders" as we call them (thanks Kung Fu Panda for the vocabulary).  I bent down to explain to him that he can't squish them because they are very delicate, and we have to be careful with his testicles, giving him the right name.  "Oh, we have to be careful with my testicles."  Then silence. . .and in a voice of absolute awe, as he has isolated one, "Momma...are these balls?!?  Do they bounce?????!"  Me, swallowing my laughter, "No, darling, they don't bounce. . .now let's get in the tub."

I'm so thankful for the opportunity to be a mother and raise a little boy.  He certainly keeps me entertained and on my toes!

Sprite should come with a warning label...

So, Jasen and I have been noticing a MARKED difference in Roman when he has Sprite.  He only gets it when we go out to dinner or somewhere special.  Otherwise, it's milk or juice or water if he's REALLY desperate.  I already know the kid can't handle his caffeine, so there is only the once in a blue moon sip of tea or coke. 

Sunday we took Roman to see Captain America...ok, I really wanted to see it too...let me rephrase, we went as a family to see Captain America.  Popcorn is always a fun must at the "movie feater" and with my little rewards card, I got a free small drink.  So Roman got his own little Sprite, while Jasen and I shared a grown up beverage...coke zero.  (It being a grownup beverage due to the caffeine.)  I could see that the Sprite was disappearing quickly and a trip to the bathroom was inevitable.  I wasn't surprised when it came...twice.

**I do need mention that earlier that day, I'd let Roman try his hand at painting my toes.  He had been DYING to do it, as all the little girls in his class routinely get painted nails by their teacher. . .so I wore flip flops, not really thinking about it, and went to the theater with one foot painted by me, and the other by Roman.  OH and I also salted his head when I sprinkled the popcorn because the lid was on wonkey, and this couple TOTALLY saw me do it and was giggling, and it was cute, ahem, but super embarrassing  I was starting a deficit, just so you get the entire picture**

(not bad for a left handed first time boy nail painter!)

On the second trip, we went into the bathroom, and the stalls quickly filled around us.  Roman and I are chatting, I can hear women around us give the "Oh isn't he so cute" giggle and sigh and all of the sudden, all noises around us stop, and Roman decides to say "Momma, I'm gonna punch you in the face".  Queue 3 year old evil laugh, lady next to me gasping, lady washing her hands saying "oh my!" then the toilets flushing, hand dryer going, lots of throat clearing TOTALLY drowning out my reprimand and redirection.  I seriously almost fell out in the floor.  GRRRR Darn you sprite and super hero "violence" and testosterone! 

I walked out of the stall, NO ONE would meet my eyes.  It was mor-ti-fying.  In a matter of seconds I turn from the mom with the cute little rambunctious boy to the child beater.  I couldn't get out of that bathroom fast enough!  As we walked to back to our theater and seats, I gave him a stern lecture about, not going to the potty again during the movie, sitting still, obeying, and I don't want to hear another word out of him until after the movie.  "mmmhmmm" was his answer, and I quickly corrected with a "Yes ma'am" as only an embarrassed and annoyed mother of a 3 year old running to keep up behind her can.  A young guy walking the other way laughed and said, "I can remember my mother making me say that all the time!"  I kinda took that as God's little giggling nudge to say, "It's ok, you're doing a good job" Lord, I hope that's what You were saying.

So the next time, you see a crying child and a haggard or really pissed off mom, or a mom standing with a buggy full of groceries in Publix with her toddler's nose in a random corner, or hear a kid say they are gonna punch their mom in the face...PLEASE don't immediately think, "Oh my gosh, poor kid!  I wonder if I should call child services"  Instead, think, "That poor mom, raising a little human who can talk back is so hard!"  Then please, give her an indulgent "it's gonna be ok" smile, heck, if it's me, you can even hug me!  We mom's need a little grace and compassion.  It's not easy righting wrongs, raising the next generation, walking the tight rope of wanting to beat the tar out of this child and loving them so much it hurts, and disciplining them when it's really hard or embarrassing because it's the right thing to do.  Not everything that comes out of their mouth is cute, but just because it sounds shocking and DHS call worthy, it doesn't mean that they hear it at home...it could just be the Sprite talking.

God help me raise this child!

Clutter

It's a problem.  Back in February, my husband surprised me with a garage re-do that he started while I was out of town on business.  It was amazing, and spontaneous, and needed, and appreciated...and not finished.  The guy who is doing it for us does it on the side because he enjoys doing it in his spare time.  Lately his spare time has been hard to come by and so my garage has continued to reside in my living room.  Which makes me b-line upstairs, where there is more clutter because I'm so overwhelmed, so I just withdraw into myself and knit and play with Roman until it’s time for bed (yeah, and we do eat at some point).

This is a small snap shot of my pantry and assorted items in my living room...I TOTALLY felt like a hoarder!  It was a terrible and dirty feeling, but I felt like I couldn't do anything about it, so I kept pushing through. 

Here is a picture of the garage in process...we have over head storage, a closed in pantry, an enclosed hot water heater, a place for the freeze, and a work bench with extra storage coming...but the process IS KILLING ME.

I've been working on some storage in my home, but what was becoming more and more apparent was that there was TOO MUCH CLUTTER.  We had too many possessions because we weren't letting go of things.  Just in case you don't know me well, let me tell you something, I LURVE to be prepared...did ya read about my couponing?  I love to have the answer, the perfect container for something, the ingredients for a recipe without going to the store; I want to have what someone needs before they know that need it.  Yeah, I also wish I was clairvoyant; it would help.

Well, I've been doing a lot of emotional, mental, and spiritual house cleaning too.  Over the past two years, I've been battling depression.  I lost a baby in June of 2009. . .it seems like eons ago and yet just a couple of months all in the same breath.  Since then, life has really tackled me, pinned me down, given me a nuggie and then dragged me to the bathroom for a swirly.  It's been hard.  A full time stressful job, a baby turning into a FULL TIME toddler, a husband, a husband in school, a husband who's a police officer with odd hours (all the same man mind you), grieving my loss, and still living.  There are SO many women in my same position.  To cope, I poured myself into my family, eating, and shopping, all of which soothed my broken soul. 

I accumulated a lot of stuff.  In my house and in my heart.  My sewing room was claustrophobic.  I had so much fabric that I had bought for my business or for this craft or that, that I couldn't sew it up in a million years...I was so paralyzed when I went in there that I just didn't sew at all.  My living room, I covered.  Roman's room, had so many toys that he couldn't find what he wanted to play with and I would end up having to find it for him.  We recently transitioned him to a queen size bed and it additionally cut into his space.  My bedroom had basket after basket of clean clothes for Jasen to put up (that's his job :), that lived in baskets because we had so many clothes, many of which we didn't even wear, there wasn't room for the ones we DID wear to go.  My guest room closet had decorations for holidays, boxes and boxes of memories ready to be scrapbooked, pillows, some ugly clothes, and all sorts of randomness. . .and on top of EVERYTHING was an unhealthy layer of dust, great for people with allergies, ya know. 

Because I haven't purged what we didn't use, it was just piling up on top of us, and I felt like it was smothering me.  I felt ashamed and guilty because I am a working mother and don't have time to be the housewife I want to be and additionally guilty and ashamed because in the few hours that I did have to be a housewife, I would rather just run away because my task was insurmountable.  I can't even describe the feelings that would course through me.

Here is the thing, the old me, about 3-4 years ago, though I still had a lot of stuff, I would just get fed up with it, go through it, chunk it, organize it, clean it like a maniac, and then it would be better and I would keep living.  The present me, it just further made me sad, feel bad, guilty, depressed, and because I didn't want to give into these feelings I just ignored them and the clutter and poured myself into my family.  All the while not only ignoring the mess, I ignored myself as well.  Well, I finally got fed up enough that I started throwing away some things but got overwhelmed so quickly.  God heard the cry of my heart that I couldn't even put to words.  An amazing friend that He placed in my life gave me a call.  She said that she and her mother had a proposition, and all I had to do was accept and agree to participate.  I had NO idea what she was talking about so I said, spill it. . .they wanted to come to my house and help me de-clutter and organize so I could get my life functioning again.  I could only be silent in disbelief as I cried.  It was exactly what my heart and soul were crying out for, and I couldn't even ask for the help I needed.  But God heard my need and he sent me the aid I needed.  She said that she and her mom just wanted to be a blessing to me.  How humbling.  How amazing.  I couldn't believe that they wanted to do this for ME.  The funny thing is that I would do this in a HEART BEAT for her or any one of my other friends, but the fact that someone wants to do this for ME was almost incomprehensible.  Isn't that how Grace works?

SUPER SUPER long story just a bit shorter, they came, ready to work.  I was nervous and excited all at once.  I totally felt that I was about to live a recent episode of Hoarders I'd seen where a woman had to go "scream it out" in her car.  But it was AMAZING.  Giving those things up that had been a comfort when I bought them wasn't hard, in fact it was exhilarating and freeing.  My sewing room has become a beautiful haven, my closet actually has clothes in it THAT I WEAR!  Roman's room is a little boy's room, and he can find his toys.  I can actually look at craft blogs and not feel smothered by other's creativity that I can't execute...I can actually get inspired and then GO CREATE. 

It was an amazing gift that my friend and her mother gave.  It lightened my house, it lightened my soul, and mind.  It brought to light some baggage that I've been carrying around that I need to rid myself of as well.  It's so hard to not be self-flagellating during this process.  Holding on to things is what I was taught.  My mom still has fabric from when I was a kid; my dad has SHEDS full of things, just in case. . .I come by it honestly, love you both. . .I can't punish myself for not doing things I didn't know about or wasn't taught.  I HATE learning things at 29 that I wish I'd known at 7, but that's life.  Life is one huge lesson.  I'm trying to learn through this, that it doesn't matter WHEN you learn the lessons just that you DO learn them.  And one of the biggest that this experience has taught me, I need to embrace God's Grace for me, give myself that grace, then let go and give my stuff to Goodwill and give my burdens to God.  The last part rings kind of hollow for me as I type it. . .because I realize that I'm still holding on to a lot, but day by day, I'm trying to let it go.

I MET SANTA!!! God bless him!

There has been so much going on in my life and home recently.  There will be posts coming on that soon, but suffice to say, my life and possessions are on a diet.  My house is on a diet.  My body is...well...I'm working on that.

As a kid I remember how much I enjoyed playing and pretending with my toys.  Roman has a vivid imagination and has that same joy.  He also has an INCREDIBLE amount of toys and an amazing little mind for inventory.  I really TRY not to buy a whole lot, but dang it, it's just really fun to do it.  I have taught him the joys of window shopping, and we can walk into Target, spend 20 minutes in the toy aisle and walk out without anything and no tantrums, so I feel we're doing ok.

Well our toy situation (among other things) has gotten out of control.  We've had several conversations over the months about thinning it out and giving toys to kids who don't have as much and have even put a stop to all toy buying because we just have so many.  Last night, we bit the bullet.  On the way home from school, I told Roman it was time; we were going to clean out his toys and give the ones he didn't want or didn't play with to kids who don't have as much as we do.  His answer?  "But Mommy, we NEED to keep them ALLLL" in a slightly whiny I don't really understand why you're doing this to me voice of a 3 year old.  I told him that Santa was coming at Christmas, and we need to thin out if he wants him to come; what about kids who's families don't have as much as we do...etc, etc, etc....

We got home, and I have to say, I'm SO proud and impressed by this sweet little boy...we donated an ENTIRE GARBAGE BAG full of toys, and I'm not talking about big toys...I'm talking about the little tiny make you cuss when you step on them in the dark toys.  He was thoughtful, decisive, and unwavering when he made a decision.  Did me proud!

And just where does meeting Santa come into this, you're asking?  I'm getting there.  So I went to Hobby Lobby at lunch for more fabric for Roman's curtains (don't ask I'm still annoyed), as I was coming out, there was this HUGE red truck with a bumper sticker that read "My other car is a sleigh, pulled by reindeer" (I wish I'd gotten a picture), I giggled and kept walking as this delightfully jolly man, dressed all in red (red shorts and red t-shirt with a red cap) got out of the truck.  I got in my car and pulled away as his wife (Mrs. Clause I assume) walked to Hobby Lobby and Santa walked toward Goodwill next door.  All of the sudden, I froze, what was I thinking, letting Santa get away?!!  I whipped around, parked, jumped out of my car, and sprinted toward Santa, yelling "Um, excuse me, um, Santa?!"  I mean, that was defiantly a first...

Delightful Santa agreed to a picture, and the sweet little lady behind the Goodwill counter took it for us.  I hugged Santa tight.  Told him my little boy had JUST been asking about him...Santa asked me how old he was and gave me a little token that said "I was caught being good".  He told me to tell Roman that he was checking in on him, and saw that he was being good.  So he came and found me to give him that token, and to keep up the good work.  I almost knocked Santa down with the exuberance of my hug and thanked him with, I won't lie, a little tear in my eye.

God bless this man, who has a for real white beard in the Tennessee summer, walking around in Santa clothes, with an honest to goodness embroidered sleigh and reindeer on the back of his red shorts (wish I had a picture of that too)!  God bless this man, who gave me the spirit of Christmas and giving in July and made the purging of my house so much more of a blessing by giving to an organization like Goodwill that supports so many others.  For reminding me of the kindness and love of Jesus and taking care of other people and to share that spirit of loving and giving year round. 

Talkin' about tools...and other things.

So, we're all parents here right?  Give or take?  Well you know how you have to MAKE time to actually be a husband and wife sometimes when you have a small child, or a child at all, or more than that?  Seduction sometimes turns into an episode of Spiderman, some eyebrow raising (like, "hey, baby, hubba, hubba?") and then sneaking off to your room.  Where you barricade your door that doesn't really lock with a huge basket of laundry you haven't put up yet.  Ahem...if this sounds familiar, you're not alone. 

This is what we have been reduce to with our 3 year old.  When we here him thunderfooting down the hallway, the jiggle of the door knob, feel the blind panic of not scaring him the rest of his life, or explaining what we're doing, we shout, "Roman, go watch your movie (play, draw, read, stare at the wall...just fill in the blank here ___), Mommy and Daddy are talking.  Most recently, he has gotten the message.  A discreet knock came at our door, after the initial knob jiggling..."Mommy!?  Are you and Daddy talking?"  "Yes, go play; I'll be out in a minute"

After some annoyed huffing he went on about his business and returned to our room a bit later when the door was re-opened...and this was the conversation that followed.

Roman:  "Mommy, what were you and Daddy talkin' about?"
Me:  "Mommy and daddy stuff"
Roman:  "Why?"
Me:  "Well there are some things that Mommy and Daddy need to talk about in private without a little boy around"
Roman:  "Oh, well, what were you talkin' about?"...he thought for a second, as I was scrambling for more nondescript details to tell him to satisfy his curiosity without out and out lying..."Were ya talkin' about tools?"
Me:  Biting my lip, "Yeah, sorta"
Roman:  "Were ya talkin' about flashlights and other tools?  Does Daddy have a flashlight?"
Me:  "Um, yeah I guess you could say that...."


Thankfully that satisfied him and I was saved from further discussion about our tools conversation by the Spiderman theme song.  God bless Spiderman.

It's been a minute....

I'm back from my long absence.  I needed a bit of a break from life, if not painfully obvious from my last post :).  Lots of "extended" family turmoil that was depleting, sad, and just plain not my responsibility has been very decidedly and forcefully "put away" and bound up by a firm boundary.  That I daily pray stays put; dang but boundaries are hard.  Seriously, if I had learned or retained half of what I'm learning through therapy and just TALKING about things and hearing the validation, things would be so different now.  But, I suppose, that is our journey. 

I as a human am a walking paradox.  I HATE learning by doing and failing and then doing it again.  I would SO much rather someone show me how to DO something the right way so when I try it, I can execute to it perfectly, the first time.  However, in living, though I hate failing, growing up (and even now sometimes), you couldn't tell me anything.  As I've grown into an adult I've learned to discern those in my life who love me for me and have my best interst in heart, and gravitate toward them.  To them, I listen.  From them I learn.  And growing, I've become somewhat ok with making a mistake and learning from it.  I'm an imperfect person, living in an imperfect world, saved by an amazing, gracious and perfect God.  It's a daily lesson.