In which I out myself

Photo by Max Brown on Unsplash

If you experience suicidal thoughts, the following post could be potentially triggering, as I share some of my own struggles in this area. If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386, or reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.

There is a war going on in my head

I've shared this before. Several times.

Why do I struggle so much with my depression?

Nature? Most definitely, my genetics are rampant with mood disorders and addictions. I'm medicated and unafraid to say so.

Nurture? Equally causal. It wasn't a rosy-glow picture.

Trauma? Multiple.

Systemic oppression? Check.

Spiritual battle? To the extent that I believe God made doctors and pharmacists to improve and save lives, yes, I would say the converse is that the fallen nature of this world means that biological ailments occur and can be used to rob people of their joy and peace. What I am NOT saying is that mental health conditions can be prayed away. That's bad theology and I won't have it.

Stress? You have no idea. BINGO.

I kind of stacked the cards against myself this semester; 

• Motherhood (which is now being acknowledged as the workload equivalent of 2.5 FTE)

• A full-time job (which I enjoy, even if it's fairly taxing)

• Six credit hours of graduate study/week (and that's just class time, not counting homework

• Participating in the leadership development program for which I work (with Kelsey and that has been a great bonding experience with her and my peers, also takes another 4 hrs/wk + homework)

• My marriage is turning 20 years old this year and both Seth and I are staring at mid-life somewhat disillusioned that neither of us are where we pictured ourselves at this point. We've changed and grown a lot. In some ways together, and others apart. And marriage is HARD WORK.

• The developmental task for my teens to think outside of their amygdalas (amygdalae?), utilizing critical thinking, empathy, self-control, is a task of MONUMENTAL proportions and is taking all of me to not eat them and be done. Kidding, I don't really have a taste for humans.

• I seem to be the only one who is both bothered by the chaos of unattended chores AND is willing to spend lengths of time doing them in our common areas. There is a child who is very meticulous about their space, but that's it.

• Two of my children are in high school. And one is driving, working a part-time job (struggling with time management and stress as a result), has been in relationship for two years, and is going to be a senior next year. This equates to a daily prayer of, "Dear God, please don't let me f*ck them up any more than I already have," and new strands of glitter hair making their debuts, contributing to my future as a peach-haired geriatric.

• In a world that bases the value of a woman on her appearance, the daily reminder of time beating along via the mirror's reflection of the more-than-fine lines on my face, steady accumulation of inches on my waist, and the fading of what has always been my crown jewel, my red hair, I'm not exactly feeling bodycon these days.

Add in the family dynamics of being between the parents of teens and launching center stages of the family life cycle, where family role strains are highest, and I. JUST. CAN'T. EVEN. 

In the grad school realm, I feel lost. Where I've always been a quick study, both socio-perceptively and intellectually, I'm struggling to focus and comprehend the pretentious linguistics of scholarly articles, much less to be able to recall specific details on which to base any intelligent fodder for the class discussions.

Part of this (most?) is for sure a bandwidth issue - I am well aware of that. 

Perhaps another underlying issue is that I'm in a program in which I do not have an undergraduate foundation. I feel like the proverbial fish out of water in many regards as my classmates readily draw upon knowledge from an undergrad class they had with my professor(s), and I'm like, "Uh, I know about sensation and perception, socialization, and human development. Maslow, Piaget, anyone?" And....crickets. Not really.

While I feel confident that this is the right program for me, in the classroom full of young adults who are closer to my daughter's age than my own (that was made clear, again, tonight) and did study political science, or in my other class (in which I am the only master's student - the rest are all PhD candidates), sociology, I feel like I'm missing some of the basics, and often feel inept in comparison.

I know,

But being a PT student in a program that is heavily skewed toward FT students (classes only offered every 3-4 semesters) and no summer session classes, kind of required me to do this if I wanted these classes before 2020.

Scale back at work, you say? At a financial cost  - the tuition benefit I receive as an employee is pro-rated to FTE %. So, if I were to negotiate a reduction in my hours, I would have to make up the difference cost-wise. Being that we don't have a nest egg for Kelsey to attend college and that is in the near future, I would rather not rob her of any educational resources we could offer her, spending them on myself instead.

Also, grad school is competitive, and I yearn to do better than I did as an undergraduate, where I simply attended, gained, and applied knowledge without participating in student activities or forming relationships with the faculty because I was a working, married, 1st generation student who just kept my nose to the grindstone. Because this is important to me. This experience is something that will help me in furthering my goals of working for social justice through policy. I also hope for the advanced degree to serve as a means to facilitate Seth's future career change as manual labor continues to take its toll on his body, offering a higher income on my part to offset any losses that might be incurred in that life transition.

All of that is a lot. A freaking shit-ton of life burden.

I'm more sweary than I'd like...while I appreciate a well-executed curse on occasion, I'm not such of fan of the ubiquitous use of them that many are. That may be scandalous to some of my church friends, but I like to think I'm a bit like Mary Magdalene in that regard (aside from the whoring bit), and she and Jesus were tight.

I find myself crying a lot. Like "pre-natal a lot"....BUT IT IS NOT THAT. We took care of that...and had it confirmed. 

I lost my car in Denver, causing unnecessary stress that initiated the self-fulfilling prophetic cycle.

The negative self-talk is relentless.

• You're a crap mom, your kids wouldn't fight like this if you were any good at mothering.

• You don't belong here. (In grad school, at work, on earth in general - and PLEASE KNOW, this admission carries so much guilt and shame with it, because I KNOW that it isn't true, but that voice isn't one of knowledge and objectivity. Besides if God had meant for me to be gone, I would have perished with The Great Pneumogedden of 2009, among many other things which I have overcome. Also, no, I don't have a plan.)

• You were never meant to be..

• Nobody actually likes you, you know? 

• The only one who looks after you is you, and you can't even do THAT well.

• You FAIL

And that is just the beginning of the self-inflicted cruelty.

We could go all day. Oh, wait, I already do.

I try to combat it with affirmations, meds, therapy visits, and self-care the best I can. It's exhausting, and I'm just SO TIRED.

I am fighting my damnedest to get through this though. And enlisting help, so rest assured I'm not in this alone.

Looking at life a bit like Avery did when Jerry Maguire said he wanted to break up with her.

"I did the 23 hour nose-route to the top of El Capitan in 6 hours! I can make this work!"

I've done it before.

As my boy Bruno says, "Don't believe me, just watch."

*I totally should have been doing school work while writing this, but I chose to take care of my mental health by putting this out there.

Day 16: Something you wrote

I wrote this out for my two older kids this past winter.  

day 9: red

Red (ahem, Maroon) and Gold are the new school colors, and I couldn't be prouder of the new athlete in our family.

Kelsey began running cross country in August, and tomorrow is her final meet of the season.  She didn't run all summer, and yet, she started with a 10:14 mile base (a time for which I had to train for months!), and she cut that down to 9:42/mile for 2.5 miles in her last couple of races, which is excellent!  What's even more mind-boggling is that sub-10 minute pace is with her having walked some of the courses!  

Last week, she was proud of herself (and I was too) because she ran the entire course.  We don't have her time yet, but what an accomplishment!  She told me after school today that she ran Friday's race in 22:07, exactly 2 minutes less than her previous personal best!  We were so proud together.  We celebrated.  8:53 pace, maintained over distance - WOW!  

It's been busy, but well worth it.  I wanted her to have a sense of belonging at a new school, a crew of kids with whom she could fit and we have found it.  The encouragement of the kids on the teams for EVERY teammate is really special and I know we made the right choice to put her in this sport. 

 

day 4: what you read

So, despite having kids aged 11, 9, and 3, I recently started going to the brand-spanking new MOPS group at our church. Not because I don't know how the motherhood drill goes, obvs, but because I'm feeling more stretched than ever with the constant hokey pokey of one foot in middle school, an arm in elementary, and the other foot in toddlerhood.

I had heard of MOPS before, but seriously, I thought it was more suited for the Stepford types, and bypassed it for many years. I had some good IRL friends and in the early years with my older two, I belonged to parenting message boards, which ultimately evolved into blogging circa 2006.  Now that I'm doing it, I've often thought, "Where was this in 2001, when I needed it so?"  No matter, things happen the way they're supposed to, right?

This book is the topic of our guided discussions and so far it is pretty good.  More cheerful than I am by nature, but definitely not Pollyanna or Stepford-ish.  Maybe it can help me be more focused on the big picture instead of the crisis of the moment!

day 2: lunchtime

So, there is no beautiful food picture for my 'lunchtime' photo.

No, today was one of those where we had a hearty breakfast, Christopher had a late late morning snack, I was fully engaged in housecleaning, and when I felt the first pang of hunger, I looked at the clock in the kitchen and saw we were more than 2 hours past noontime.  And, we needed to go run an errand before Colton got home from school in less than 2 hours, which would then initiate the evening crazy: the daily 14 mile round trip to pick Kelsey up from cross country, dinner, and parent teacher conferences (day 2).

So it was lunch on the go.

I hate the convenience of those Golden Arches whose food never decomposes :/

day 1: where you stood

So, in six years of blogging (give or take, what with the 6 month hiatuses and all), I've never done any of these daily blog prompt things, but I really hope to get back in the swing of it, so what better than a quick, easy photo of the day, with or without some words, to dive back into things?

While this is not a great photo, it does represent several things for me about where I've stood.  

Friday Fragments + FREE!

* It only took me a year, but I finally landed my first review/giveaway gig.  Please click over to my first ever giveaway post and enter to win a free natural lip balm!

* This morning Screech spilled my coffee on my laptop.  I was horrified.  I've already been having problems with the memory (needed a BIOS update, but not sure that was all as it was acting up again this week), and if I lose my stuff, there goes my business!  Thankfully most of my stuff is accessible via my e-mail.  Note to self: invest in external hard drive.  Now I'm en route to a computer repair shop to get it fixed.  I love my children, love them, love them, love them!

* Parent teacher conferences + President's day = 5 days in a row of all 3 kids, sans break.  Pray for me

* Parent Teacher Conferences revealed that my kids are doing great academically, but Middleton is.... "I wouldn't say de-FIIIIIIIII-ant per se...." said his teacher, "but there's something there."  To which I said, yes, and it has been going on for some time (within weeks of his birthday - which was in July - he began acting like a moody little teenage girl and Mr. Fixit has since been known to say, "That boy needs a Midol!") and it seems like he's taking on a victim mentality where it is Certainly Not My Fault and Life's No Fair all the time.  We're working on it.  And Special K has had some run in with the whole Queen Bee/Wannabe dynamic it would appear. 

Stream of Consciousness

I hate getting behind.  But last week Special K and Middleton were out of school for not one, but two non-snow snow days.  The weather was below zero with wind-chill, but the roads were clear and not hazardous in our area with very little actual snow, so I didn't really get why they got two days off, seeing as it IS Colorado and things do get cold from time to time, but hey, whatever, right?  We mostly did alright, with little to no altercations, save for the incessant undoings of anything I attempted to do domestically, which then resulted in subsequent RE-doings to the power of x, x being that mysterious value of "you will never get anything accomplished today, bahahaha!"  Quality time with the kids, good.  Falling behind in laundry, housework, my Finance Mgt for Non-Profits class, and life in general: Bad....very bad.  I'm digging out.  Slowly.  Obscene amounts of caffeine are predicted in the forecast.

Mr. Fixit and I had a date night on Friday.  The first since.....our anniversary???  Which would have been July.  Sad, I know.  It was GLORIOUS.  My BIL and his wife had given us a gift card to The Outback for Christmas, and some friends had graced us with a gift card to the movie theater, also for Christmas.  Last month, after a snow storm during which Mr. Fixit had done his usual neighborhood snow-blowing, I came home to a note on the door from our neighbor which had a gift card in it - also for the Outback!  We had a friend's daughter come sit our kids since she is saving money for a missions trip this summer (also - tangential side note....14 years ago, if someone would have told my 18 year old self that the then toddler with the cute blonde hair and brown eyes would be babysitting my own children - kids, me? and plural no less? - in what would seem like a blink, I would have laughed at them maniacally).  So we ate at Outback in conversation that was blissfully absent of whining, pinching, or some other activity warranting parental intervention, and then went to see 127 Hours.  It was a good movie.  But, I was unprepared to be hit with torrential emotions as I seem to have drawn some keen parallels between Aron Ralston's plight with that of my own glance at mortality nearly two years ago.  Vastly different settings and details, but that familiar roller coaster of hope and despair, coupled with a mutually experienced, primal, and determined will to survive, left me shaking in my seat as the credits rolled, hands fanned out in a vee and my thumbs attempting to dam the tears.  PTSD's adrenaline had been coursing through me, unbeknownst, and culminated at the scene where he finally knew he was going to make it, for reals, as the helicopter hovered over him....at first just a few tears flowed down, but then I was sobbing and shuddering, borne of something extremely similar to that very potent cocktail of joy and adrenaline one experiences moments after giving birth.  *sigh*  life is good, eh?

I got my first paycheck as a free-lancing, independent contracting, non-profit consultant on Saturday!  And I now have me a fancy-pants business account with a registered trade-name and DBA and everything.  I'm so excited about what the future holds for this endeavor and just know that 2011 is going to be a great year for us.

I don't remember how I landed on this article about extended nursing awhile back, but I swear, it rings so true to my life, particularly this part:

...They are his breasts now. He strokes them lovingly through my shirt and cups them with his palms. He blows raspberries on them and giggles. He nurses in a toddler variation of Downward Facing Dog while simultaneously thumbing the pages of Goodnight Moon. He slaps my chest with both hands and shouts....

I don't know that I'm as embarrassed as the author of the article says she was re: Screech's extended nursing, but we've definitely cut out nursing in public at this point not because I worry about what other people will think, but 1.) his acrobatics are mutually exclusive with any attempts for modesty, which is MY preference, and 2.) there has to be some sort of balance around teaching him boundaries, no?  I still enjoy the quiet moments, the cuddles.  Though it did a number on my body's balance of supply/demand, I had incredible peace of mind when he had 2 GI bugs back to back because I knew through nursing he was getting nourishment as he simply would not eat any food or drink other liquids.  But there are times, like Saturday night in bed, when I get tired of always having an unwieldy toddler stretching my breast into positions once filed in the erstwhile mental category of  "humanly impossible."

French's yellow mustard has something going on.  Special K is something of an anomaly for kids when it comes to her tastes in sandwich spreads - that is, she is a mustard and lunchmeat only kinda gal.    Same goes for burgers, hot dogs, and other condiment-requiring foods.  She'd do great in TX, no?  Last week at the International Festival, Middleton just about popped a gasket b/c the mustard at the concessions stand, French's yellow, was too spicy.  I tasted it, and sure enough, it had the vinegary twang of yellow mustard but the heat of the hottests of Chinese mustards.  I assumed it was an isolated incident.  Until today when I was making lunches and Special K insisted that I NOT use the mustard I used yesterday because it burned.  Sure enough, the brand new bottle I bought was not the same taste we've relied on for years.

Well...this has been days of SoC writing, best to hit publish and get to work.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Hello, Right Hand? Meet Left Hand, and Please Take Heed of What the other is Doing

I've been dreading this week....

Particularly because my inner Grover insists there's a monster at the end of it.  Particularly on Saturday.

It's a scheduling cluster#@$%, erm, nightmare.

Kelsey's Girl Scouts troupe has been working very hard on their display on Korea that will be part of the annual International Festival.  Kelsey digs learning about new cultures and ethnicities.  A lot.  Earlier in the month I was planning out my calendar, and at some point I had a jotted a note reading:

So I got about it and lo!  The Girl Scout Council of our town had scheduled the International Festival on January 29th.

But wait, Kelsey had another commitment on the 29th.  As in, my little Special K (my newest nickname for her!) had earned herself a place in the district spelling bee after kicking some booty in the school bee.

Now, some of you know that in my former career, I was something of an executive scheduler, and as such, am a little O-to-the-C-to-the-D when it comes to those pesky little things called details...so, when organizations that work with school-age children schedule major events fail to consult the academic calendars, respective to the population they serve, it grates on my nerves much like the waitstaff at the Olive Garden manage to do with the parmigiano.  Because clearly nothing says, "We're training your girls up to be short-sighted leaders - but it will be meaningful and fun along the way!" than a myopic planning maneuver such as this.  Oh, the other pet peeve is that our town's IF is not listed on the Events Planner portion of the GS COLORADO website, but the neighboring town's is listed as if it is the only one for our region, in February....seriously, these people need some admin skillz!

So there was my visceral reaction - but then Kelsey's was somewhat heartbreaking.  She quickly melted down into her woebegone state that is fairly common anytime anything deviates AT.ALL  from how she expected things to be (I feel for my future son-in-law, how I feel for him and pray for a gentle, long-suffering soul to step into that future role!).  Then she said, "Well, then I just won't do the spelling bee - I'll do the International Festival instead!"

At this point, the tiger mom in me - who normally pushes the snooze button and stays in hibernation as long as possible - came out and said, "No ma'am.  You most certainly are not going to forsake an academic activity for some fluffy little foreign fair.  You're going to spell like a champ, like it or not.  This is not the first time you'll have to make a decision in a conflict, so put on your big girl panties and suck it up, buttercup."  Because I have principles, and academics are important in them.  So are actual leadership/service learning opportunities - if they were going to help out at Habitat for Humanity that Saturday, I'd have probably let her skip the spelling bee.  But to forsake it just to go hang out with a group of girls, many of them the mean girl types at that, gabbing about Bieber and Taylor Swift and what clothes are in while they go and participate in a Cliff Notes version of world travel?  Nah.....

So....after that it stood that our weekend schedule would look like this:
Saturday:
Leave the house at 7:00 am in order to get from our northern-most district home to the southern-most district school by 7:30
7:30 - check-in at the spelling bee
8:00 - 9:30 Wait as Kelsey completes the written spelling bee exam - if she makes the cut, then we go on to oral round at 10:00
10:00-noon - Oral Round .... OR if she gets cut, make a mad dash to the other side of town and get her to the IF

Meanwhile, I will have both of the boys because Seth was informed at the beginning of the month that this was his Saturday to work.

And I'm on deadline for some grantwriting.

And holy cow am I realizing just how diligent I have to be with the time management trying to get this all done....

Also?  You extracurricular people who can't plan to save your life are putting a big rain cloud on my parade!


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Changing of the Season?

Two and a half years ago, Seth and I set out on a faith journey.

This journey involved bringing another child into our family, and me leaving my career to be a full-time SAHM.  We crunched numbers based on Seth's current take-home pay, health-care coverage expenses, cost-savings from no childcare, etc.  It was going to be tight, but doable.  Ideally, the plan was for me to continue my MPA program very part-time, to keep student loans at bay, and finish around the time Christopher would start school so that I could go back to work.  Kelsey would be old enough to spend time with them after school until I got home, would I be working FT.

But that's where things have fallen short.

Seth's annual income has decreased by about $10k from our 2008 projections due to a harsh economy.  And then I tried to die, sans insurance.  That was NOT CHEAP - although, please let it be known that I'm quite glad to be ALIVE and well!  So, yeah, there've been some wrenches thrown our way.  Each month, our finances have gotten progressively worse, despite some serious downsizing of our lifestyle, to the point of having to decide what to pay [late], what not to pay, and what to catch-up on.

We've been praying for quite some time that God would show us what to do.  I've thought about getting a night/weekend job, to avoid incurring child-care costs, but Seth has not liked that option as it would strain our marriage, and he already works a hard, manual 50+ hours/week.  I've tried to garner some free-lance work, and only just recently have landed anything substantial, and yet still not at all steadily coming in.

And then, two weeks ago, I was praying about this very issue as Seth's body is wearing from his work - he'd had high blood pressure at Thanksgiving, some neck pain and extreme fatigue that disheartened me and left me with visions of him working himself to death -  when I received an e-mail.  It was from my old boss at the city.  She was announcing her departure from the city as she had landed an opportunity of a lifetime with the United Way.

Thus, her position, for which I was the assistant for 4.5 years and have very first-hand knowledge regarding, was open.

Could it be?  An answer from God?  Or an illusory trapping laid out by the enemy in which I could become self-important and lose priority again?  Hmmmm.....dilemma.

I've had many mixed emotions about this position, and as a result have done a ton of soul-searching, investigations re: hidden costs (both material/physical and spiritual/emotional), and had many a heart to heart with my husband.  I've cried at the thoughts of the confusion my little boy might feel when Mama leaves him all day every day all of a sudden.  And I've thought that if I have to work, and it sure appears it's going to be that way, that it might as well be something that I love doing, which I did.

Ultimately, we've decided, together, that I should apply for it, with the prayer being if this is not God's will, that He put up an undeniable road block in this path.  It is an unbelievable opportunity, one that may not come about for a very long time, and is in keeping with my professional goals/abilities.

Yesterday, I submitted my application.  With glowing references and a letter of recommendation.  Now we wait, as the hiring supervisor is out of the country until after the first of the year.


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Out of Context

Every year the night before school is an open house/ice cream social where the kids and parents can meet the teachers, unload the backhoes of school supplies, and snarf down a little frozen dairy goodness before the chaos is unleashed.

It's fun to see the kids' excitement as they find their friends and catch up on who's in whose class, what they did over the summer and details such as how exactly they broke their arm.

Seth hardly ever gets to go since it coincides with his last hour of work, so Tuesday night he was trying to get the 411 from the kids at the dinner table (which ended up to be a very late supper that night).

"Didja get the teacher you wanted, Kels?"

"Not really...." she paused.  Then very emphatically, she said, "I just wish she had some balls!"

It made me snort a little, the look on Seth's face.

"Well, ok, then?  Is she that much of a pushover?"  He asked, clearly on a different page than the one Kelsey and I were on.

"What?!?" she asked in the rare, but occasional 'dumb-blonde' tone of but I don't get it.

He went on to explain what a pushover was and she was still blank.

"But, Dad-deeeee, I know what a pushover is - I just don't get why you'd say that because she doesn't have balls, though."

I could have intervened, but the humor of it all was cracking me up.

Suddenly, it dawned on my daughter that she and her dad had entirely different pictures in their minds, thus she said, exasperated, "Dad!!!!!  I meant exercise balls - you know, to sit on??  Instead of a chair?!!  The other 4th grade teachers have balls but mine doesn't and it's not really fair because that would help* me."

* it's a sensory thing.

And then all that humor tension climaxed into a fit of laughter at our table.

******
Completely unrelated, save for the out of context theme....

I've been curling my hair for a little something different lately - contemplating a body perm, but that just wigs me out (pun intended - me so cheesey) and makes me think of the aforementioned fashion crimes of the 80s.

The other day I was curling my hair before church and Christopher was walking around the bathroom.  He was babbling and messing with his hair when I realized that he too was 'curling' his hair.  With a wrapped (read: unused and perfectly sterile) tampon!

Oh dear, that one had me laughing for awhile too..
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

The One Where I Relate to AC/DC

You know...as in, one of two heavy metal bands proclaimed by the t-shirts of the two poorly animated, infamous-for-their-utter-lack-of-conventional-values characters of the 90's known as Beavis and Butt-head.

Yeah....the 80's have their fashion crimes of which to be ashamed.  The 90's?  We had Beavis and Butt-head and the dumbing down of humor to fart jokes for an entire generation.  *sigh*

Anyway....so, I do this thing where I associate moods, happenings, etc. with music, quotes, TV and all other things pop culture, right?

Today it was AC/DC's Back in Black playing in my little mental concert for one.  Because I am one Klassy Babe when it comes to my musical repertoire - thanks to one former step-father who never could break free of the hold of 80's metal bands, and Blondie as well come to think on it, had on him and that he saw to it that we, too, were appropriately indoctrinated uh, educated re: their cultural significance; usually such education occurred while he was drunk.  Fun times.


Why, you ask, did you have Back in Black playing in your head today, Heather?

Because quite simply,

...
I've been too long I'm glad to be back
Yes I'm, let loose
From the noose
That's kept me hanging about
... 

I'm coming back.  In ways that have been dormant for a good long time, I'm seeing glimpses of who I am and who God's teaching me to be along the way.

Kelsey and Colton started back to school Wednesday, and Heaven smiled down on me.  Writing that makes me feel like a bad mother, a bit.  Because I chose to be a SAHM in order to be more present with my kids and yet come July each year, I can't wait to be away from them for 40 hours a week.  Ok, so maybe that last part is hyperbole, but not by a huge amount.  To be fair, the kids were equally happy to leave me behind every day :)  I have been able to be productive and get my house in respectable shape again, there is a return of that blissfully quiet period, 2x/day!, known as NAPTIME, and routine, how I love thee.  School is good.

Colton was totally stoked that the new gym teacher (whom I foresee to be the object of many young girls' affections due to his youth and looks) was wearing the same Marvel comics t-shirt as he was.  2nd and 4th grades this year.

New School Shoes

While not going to school, little Chris was part of the obligatory 1st day photos.

Bus!!

I re-start my MPA studies, from which I took hiatus in 2008 and 2009.  I will only be taking one class this semester, but I'm excited.  I do keep cracking jokes about the class, as it is Leadership and Professional Ethics - joke being that there's a difference between personal ethics and professional ones?  Syllabus looks good and challenging, but not overly so.  Feels do-able.

As of today, we are caught up on our mortgage and all of our household bills - which is a place we haven't been since last November.  Medical stuff is still hanging out, but we've cut some serious fat out of our budget, finally saying goodbye to Directv, and hello to Hulu, Netflix, and a digital antenna, slashing our grocery bill with sites like CouponMom.com and GroceryGame.com, riding our bikes more than driving the vehicles, etc.  And, now that things are calmer at home, I'm really doing the free-lancing thing!  I got my first client this week - a local NPO seeking funding and yet lacking a grant writer.  Then, tonight I received an e-mail from a legitimate business in Denver asking me for my resume and references as they had a client in need of a funding researcher/grant writer. So, between the cutting of expenses and addition of some income, those medical debts are going bye-bye - no doubt about it.

A newer friend from church remarked how I was going to be superwoman this fall with 3 kids, going back to school, running high mileage, and starting a business.  Certainly, I'm not super woman, but for those of you who've known me since this blog's inception (or before) y'all know I like the busy, like the real busy and not the busy work.  I once worked FT, was in grad school, regularly volunteered in both the older kids' classrooms, took Kelsey to weekly OT appointments, cooked from scratch, etc. and did it fairly well.  Some situational things popped up occasionally, namely marital during that time period, that got me down.  And then I needed a break, so I slowed down and tried to follow God a little more closely.

The past 2 years have been huge in the growth department.  The latter part of 2008 being a preparatory season, 2009 being a sort of demolition/rebuilding year, and thus far 2010 has been further rebuilding with an unveiling starting to take shape.

I feel as if, structurally speaking, I have the same foundation, as in, I'm still the same stubborn, feisty, big-word loving kind of gal I've always been.  True, some parts of me have gotten those sort of whimsical face lifting reminiscent of HGTV's lower budget programs, such as the coupon clipping, cloth diapering, home-growing features that are new but not foreign to me.  But other parts of me have been completely gutted, refashioned, and repurposed...My kids are bearing the brunt of my stubbornness being channeled into my parenting.

So, Angus sings it for me in my mind...."I'm back.  In black".  Though usually not all black clothing, I can generally be found wearing black flip-flops on any given day.  
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Brought to you with a large serving of "air quotes"

The following is what my goofy little mind came up with when my brain crossed reading a Facebook friend's status about having Christmas carols stuck in his head (in August, the blasphemy!) with the joys of parenting at summer's end.  It is my [poor] attempt at parody, and in Weird Al fashion, I have a mental music video that goes along with it - primarily frazzled moms air quoting each 'wonderful' in the song, in lieu of jazz hands.

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
With the kids always yelling
And every mom telling you "It’s that time of year" 
It's the most wonderful time of the year 
It's the hap-happiest season of all
With those back-to-school greetings and PTA meetings 
When Busy comes to call 
It's the hap- happiest season of all 

There are routines to re-enlist 
New bedtimes on which to insist 
And children hollering “NO!” 
There'll be harried mom stories 
And tales of the glories of 
Back-to-schools long, long ago 

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
There is much limit testing 
And siblings contesting 
Poor Mom yearns for beer 
It's the most wonderful time of the year 

There are routines to re-enlist 
New bedtimes on which to insist 
And children hollering “NO!” 
There'll be harried mom stories 
And tales of the glories of 
Back-to-schools long, long ago 

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
There is much limit testing 
And siblings contesting 
Poor Mom yearns for beer 
It's the most wonderful time 
It's the most wonderful time 
It's the most wonderful time 
When the School Bus draws near!!!!!

In all seriousness, summer's been fun, but I'm ready for a little daily distance to make my heart fonder of the two older ones.  The whining and the sibling rivalry-esque competitions are wearing me down!


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

End of this week = beginning of summer

Hi!  I'm still here - returning from my little MIA experience known as The Last Week of School!

Today marks the last morning that I have to bark orders like a drill sergeant to my children, who clearly need routine yet somehow seem to forget each morning that every day for the past 9 mos we have eaten breakfast, dressed, packed lunches, combed hair, grabbed backpacks, etc.  Sort of like their after school routine: 

• Kids come home
• Kids throw coats, jackets backpacks on the floor
• I say, "Pick those up..." 
• I repeat, incrementally raising the volume each time
• I max out the volume with the final say-so, "NOW!"
• Kids scurry to finally put their stuff up where it belongs
• Kids snack, then say, "What can we DO???" which is code for "Can I play a video/computer game?"
• Mom says, "Uh, you can empty the dishwasher, as you do Every. Single. Day."
• Kids groan and moan, roll their eyes and occasionally throw in a tantrum or some other form of disrespect

EVERY.  DAY.  They have chores, and every day they magically seem to forget.  Do they even teach pattern recognition at the schools these days?  Really.

It's been a LONG week, an INSANE week full of tween emotions (After a week of being told I was SO MEAN, among other hateful things, I actually read Mir's letter to her daughter to Kelsey, after having read it while she was at school and bawling my eyes out in agreement, in conclusion asking her, "Hmmm, what kind of connections* are you making to that story?  To which she grumbled, "My attitude...") and end of the school year activities.  Oh, and, we're still treading water trying to keep our finances afloat.  Funny how that doesn't just abate when all other areas of life are crazy.

* this is a term they use in school re: reading comprehension and applications to similar life experiences they have had.

And I've been in a funk.  Once again, the ever pretty Mir had a parallel experience up in another poignantly written post, especially touching my already bruised psyche with these lines:

There is a certain arrogance in being unhappy when leading what is fundamentally a good and blessed and lucky life, isn’t there? I mean, that’s not to say that my (or your) problems aren’t real and challenging, just that the Right and Mature thing to do, after a while, is to say to yourself, “Self, time to suck it up and deal.” Lord knows I say this to my kids often enough; I should take my own advice.

Touché.

Part of my funk has been that now that I finally want "almost all the things I never wanted" (that is a reference to my sweet friend Huckdoll, who is also on the formerly WOHM now SAHM path that I'm on and discovering along the way how sweet our families really are), now it is threatened with financial insecurity.  While we are upside down in our budget with my medical expenses, we are still upside down without them.  Which is pretty hard to figure out seeing as when we decided to take the plunge to have Christopher and me stay at home, there was enough money.  But now there isn't.  So we need more income.

Which was bringing me to the conclusion that I needed to find a job - maybe not a daytime job as childcare would ruin us even if I was working.  But even a night job is time away from Seth and we've really fought to get to where we are in our relationship - in other words, this is not something I really wanted either.  I've been praying hard about this.

I tried lia sophia.  And thought it wasn't working out, so hadn't done much with it.

Yesterday at our final hurrah for our cub scout pack, one of the moms, also a bus-stop mom, asked me if I was still selling jewelry.

I told her it was slow and not so much.

Later she invited me to a Pampered Chef party.

I told her I could come but probably wouldn't be able to buy anything.

She approached me again later in the night, asking if I had inventory in my jewelry.  There was this one necklace.

I told her I was still active as an advisor, just not for long - that I had to have a show soon to remain active.  She says, "Well I'll do it!"

How's that for an answer?

Also, for my readers who are afar - I can totally do catalog/online shows.  Our jewelry is fabulous and June's special is buy any two items at regular price get up to four necklaces at half price!  Our necklaces are often our pricier items, so this is a great opportunity to stock up on affordable gifts for birthdays, Christmas, or just to enhance your own jewelry wardrobe.  E-mail me today if you're interested in helping me out!

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

I'm pretty sure these two came from the same zygote

For those of you who need a reproductive health refresher:

zygote:   zy·gote (zī'gōt')

noun
1. The single cell that results from fertilization of an ovum by a sperm. After dividing several times, it implants in the uterus. It continues to divide, producing more cells and passing through the stages ofembryo and fetus.

So, my title statement about my boys...yeah...I'm pretty sure that the zygote split, as in identical twins...They just happened to be born 6 years apart.

My reasons for thinking this are as follows:

Monday, while waiting at the kids' school to pick them up and whisk Kelsey away to Girl Scouts, another mother, to whom I'd not yet been introduced, walks up to me, Christopher perched on my hip, and says, nodding in the baby's direction, "He has to be Colton's brother, right?"

Startled, and somewhat dismayed, I mean, I know they look a lot alike, but for some random person [who apparently knew Colton enough] to just ID us as related?!?

"Why yes, he is," I replied, and conversation ensued as to how she knew Colton from volunteering in the class, in which her son was a student as well.

But don't just take that experience, and my wordy wordy words for it, take a look for yourself.  And see if you can tell me who's who?

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

Family has an unfair advantage with respect to the background items and the dating they provide!

Happy guessing!
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

One Year With You

My overdue 1st birthday letter to Christopher.

Dear Baby Christopher,

I've started and stopped this letter so many times.  There's so much to say.  My heart overflows.

While you were still just a prayer in my heart and had yet to take root in my womb, I knew you would change my life.

Your sister had...your brother had...I knew you would change me too.

What I didn't know is how you would change their lives.  I mean, it's granted that the addition of a family member changes the dynamics for everyone...

But they got more than a new brother out of the deal - they got a new Mama and Daddy too.  And your impending presence spurred on these changes that took place within us.  Without you, who knows?  I could still be the shrewish mother prone to emotional outbursts at the drop of a hat, and your father could still be the insecure man striving to keep up with the Joneses that he was.

Taking our family from 4 to 5 was a giant leap of faith for us.

It meant I had to quit finding my identity in my accomplishments in the career world and start finding my identity in the Lord and His purpose for me.

It meant prioritizing what was of utmost importance - our family, you kids - and trusting that God would honor those priorities with His Providence.

It meant letting go of what I'd envisioned my life looking like and [Carrie Underwood reference in 3..2..1] letting God take the wheel and drive my life, our lives.

While a mother doesn't have favorites among her children, they do each lay claim to unique niches in her heart, solely for them to possess.

You, my dear boy, are the embodiment of faith and God's promise [and fulfillment] of restoration to me.  You were borne out of the restoration God worked in my relationship with your Daddy, conceived in our re-commitment to the Lord and renewed love for each other.  That alone makes you special to me.

But then there's you.  The reason for your being is endearing enough, but your actual being, your essence...personality...whatever you wish to call it... those things that make you you... I treasure them just as much, if not more in my mother's heart.

You have, since birth, had the most expressive face of the three of you kids.  It's your eyebrows.  You furrow and raise them so adeptly that one need not see the rest of your face to know what emotion you're currently wearing, but add them to your soul-gazing eyes, only to dress your face with that ever changing wardrobe of smiles, grins, frowns and everything in-between, and you have a very telling visage.

You are intuitive, even at this young age, and seem to know that as my last baby, I need you to stay little, to cuddle lots, and generally be content.  In all seriousness, you are a peanut (just like your brother!) you do love to snuggle, a trait which I am all to happy to oblige, and you have been a very easy baby.

Maybe it's because you have two older siblings, or maybe you're just brilliant (methinks a bit of both), but you seem to already play with other children, as opposed to the commonly seen playing among other children type of play early toddlers embrace.

Your primal glee smile, the one with the mega wattage, is a sight I never grow weary of - even if it is while you race up the stairs after I've told you no a hundred times.  I remember Kelsey smiling this way, but Colton never really did - he always had a gleam in his eyes when happy that never quite made its way to his lips - so I'm glad to see the return of a smile that lights a room up in you.

I love watching you learn new things - like connecting the dots that an up and down motion of the wrist makes people smile, wave back and talk all sorts of nonsense to you, except when you do it to me at 5:00am in my bed, as you've done the past two mornings.

You love animals.  LOVE them, and you have a special animal sound when you see anything furry or feathered - though I think it is an attempted bark [i.e. woof woof] it comes out as 'who who,' and is generally chorded such that I begin to sing the theme song* from CSI.  Every.  Time.

These things that make you you, son, are just the beginning.  Your list of you things will grow as you get older and acquire more proprietary characteristics, and I can't wait to get to know each and every one of them.

Happy first year, baby.

Love, 

Mama

* I'm well aware that the Who would probably cringe at me identifying their song as "the theme song from CSI" as it's raison d'être, that the song existed long before the show; however, my son probably will not make this distinction if he ever reads this letter in the future.
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Who turned up the busy?

Holy smokes y'all.

It is that mad dash to the end of the school year and dang, we got busy!

I'm so sad about that too, because I had a great Not Me Monday [still in my head], replete with a bedroom disturbance whilst things were Happenin'.  Oh yeah, it would seem that locking the door doesn't do much if the door isn't latched shut.  But hey, at least my sons know Mama and Daddy really do love each other, eh?  :snort:

And I thought I would just get it pounded out (the NMM post) on Wednesday and rebrand it as Wasn't Me Wednesday, but as you all know, that didn't happen.

Kelsey's behavior of late has been a crazy cocktail of sensory issues + emerging hormones + sheer stubbornness of late and just two nights ago, I became a raving lunatic over it.  Seth was at a worship committee meeting that night and I'd.  HAD. it. up. to. HERE!!!! with her disrespect.  So I totally lost it on her.  :hangs head in shame:  Thankfully, my wonderful husband knows how difficult she is and after I'd called to vent [during a meeting, I mean what was I thinking?!?] and got stuck leaving him a VM, he came home with flowers.  This is your cue to all collectively go "Awwww...." seriously, leave it in your comments, lol.

I've made some good eats over the past few weeks and have totally been wanting to resume Foodie Fridays, but haven't made it there yet.

But, what I have done is reclaimed my house.  I have maintained it at a high level of clean for 3 weeks straight and it feels SO GOOD.

We've also gotten back on track with our finances, PLUS someone turned up the busy at Seth's place of employment as well as side jobs and that bodes even better for our wallets, as well.  Praise God for that!  And, I'm back in contacts as a result - which is so good because I really do prefer to run with sunglasses when the sun is SO BRIGHT and lovely.  Note to God, not a complaint, keep pouring the rays out!

I have some ideas in the back of my head about future career/financial plans that I'm toying with.  And now praying about - please, if you're a praying sort, send some up asking for God to reveal His will for me and our future (we're talking when Chris goes to school here).

Speaking of Christopher...his naptime's over wail is on - so until next time.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

And Then We Were Five

One year ago, you entered our family.

Due to what would happen just days after your birth, I never did get around to writing your birth story.  And I'm not about to let the fact that you're the third, or that Mama nearly died when you were a leeetle baby, or any other reason keep you from having what Kelsey and Colton have - my candid record of just how you came into this world!

(As an aside; this is not in lieu of a birthday letter, because that is coming too - will be up before the week's end)

You were born on a Saturday.

The Wednesday prior, I had my 39 wk check-up, and just about cried in the doctor's office.  I'd had a few episodes of contractions and had signs of impending labor for weeks, yet had only made, maybe, .5 cm progress in 3wks.  We discussed induction at that appointment, but opted to wait and see if the doctor roughing me up a bit would suffice at getting you on your way out.  Later that night, it appeared that it was going to work.  I had contractions 5-8 minutes apart for HOURS and threw up my dinner before church due to the pains.  But it was all for naught.

On Thursday, Daddy and I walked, and walked, and walked, among other things, but uh, you probably don't want to think about that!  And I contracted, but nothing regularly.  By day's end, we'd called the doctor's office and scheduled your eviction.  We would induce on the morning of Saturday, April 25th.  You were "due" on Monday the 27th, but our doctor was sympathetic to our plight.

I nested all day Friday with Daddy's help.  The excitement built.  It was so different.  With your sister, I went in with complications and we had a medically necessitated induction.  With your brother, he poked a hole in his bag of water somewhat early but then had second thoughts about coming out.  With you, we picked the day and knew you'd be here that day.


On the big day, knowing that we were headed to the hospital to meet you, I got up, showered, and put make-up on.  I told Daddy that since I knew what the drill was and hadn't with your siblings, I figured at least my "just delivered" pictures with you should at least be pretty!  I asked him if he thought that was silly or vain, and lucky for him, he assured me that he thought it was perfectly rational and understandable.  It was his third time around the pregnancy block, he knew that hormones needed appeased by now!

Nana and Papa had come up and stayed the night with Kelsey and Colton, so we said goodbye and took a picture before leaving.

Daddy and I drove to the new hospital in which you were born and wondered aloud how things would go.

We checked in at 7:00 am.

After paperwork, undressing, getting hooked up and all the other rigamarole that is hospital admissions, it was about 9:30am before the pitocin began to pump.

The doctor on call was not my normal doctor, but she was ok.  We didn't really see so much of her as we did of Brenda, the amazing L&D nurse we were assigned for the duration of the induction.

Nana and Papa came in (they'd gone to a health fair with the other kids), and soon Grammy and Gramps followed.  We watched tv and played games.  Kelsey left to go to a friends' birthday party in the area.

Around noon, the doctor came in and asked how I was feeling.  Pretty decent, I told her - the contractions were really not bad.  She frowned at that and told me she'd hoped to hear that I was starting to get uncomfortable by now.

At 3:00, I was starting to really feel the contractions and was breathing thru them rather than just riding them.  I'd told Brenda how with Colton I fought the pain for so long, avoiding the epidural because I was progressing slowly and I feared stalling once an epidural was administered, yet once I finally had gotten the epidural, I went from 4-10 in an hour and a half.  It was at this point that she reminded me of this, as well as the fact that since I had low blood pressure, I would have to take IV fluids prior to an epidural being administered (to avoid me passing out as BP dips with an epi) and that would take a minimum of 45 minutes.  She encouraged me to stay ahead of my pain, and not let it go to a point that that 45 minutes of IV would be too much.

The doctor came and checked me, and I had gone to 3 cm, I'd walked in at 2.5 cm, in the 5 1/2 hours of pitocin.

Brenda's words won out.

I got the IV, and at 4:15, my epidural was administered.  They broke my water at that point, and I immediately dilated to 4 cm.

4:55 - check, great news, you're at 7! 

Before Brenda got to input the data from the doctor's examination into the computer, I told her that I was feeling a lot of pressure.  And that was because in just 2 seconds* I was at 8.  She was going to call the doctor back in, because she had a feeling I was going to go fast from here.

* that's what it felt like anyway.

Sure enough, I was at 10 before the doctor's equipment was fully laid out.

Your heart rate had some decelerations during the peak of the contractions leading up to this point, and after I began pushing, the doctor and Brenda exchanged a Look that frightened me.

"Heather, you need to push this baby out as fast as you can, ok?" ordered the doc.  "This is baby number 3 and should be old hat."

I pushed, 3, maybe 4 times? 

You crowned and there was a hush in the room.

And then you were out.  It was almost effortless, which seems an oxymoron for any labor.

But it the triumph of an easy delivery was overtaken by the fact that my baby was silent.

My heart palpitated in limbo.

Why isn't he crying?  Why isn't my baby crying?!?  C'mon baby, just cry!

They took you away and rubbed you and spanked you and suctioned when, F.I.N.A.L.L.Y. you cried.

I realized I'd been holding my breath.  My heart surged with joy.  The endorphins pushed play from their paused state and my body buzzed with elation and fatigue.  I looked over at your Daddy and we cried.

At last, they placed you on my chest, and I kissed your face.  You shivered and trembled on my torso as I too became wracked with tremors.  You were devoid of the waxy vernix and carried the rusty musky scent of the sanguine birthing fluids you'd just bathed in.  You had so much hair, and clearly red hair at that too.  The wives tale about heart burn held true on this one!

Your skin was so dry in appearance, cracked and flaking off with scratches everywhere.  We'd find out later that your appearance was that of a post-term baby - so who knows if you were actually overdue or if I just cooked you a little warmer than appropriate?

The doctor questioned how I felt, and I told her that I felt great - that it was the easiest birth yet and of course it was great to be holding the prize at long last :).  She told me that a lot of women hated people like me, that she didn't just mean the easy birthing part, but that she bet you were over 9lbs and here I was saying it was easy.  I thought she was off her rocker because you seemed small-average to me.  We have this on video tape, too.  Which is funny because she was way off - you weighed in at 7 lbs 2oz.

You did give us a scare though, the heart rate decelerations were because you had your cord around your neck twice and also around your chest and tucked up under your armpit.  Your early APGARs were low, but the second ones were good, thankfully.

You nursed like a champ when we got to it, which was when Kelsey and Colton came in to meet you.  And your grandpas, and uncles, etc.  Grammy and Nana were in the room at your delivery, so they let everyone get a good look at you before they held you.

Kelsey gave you your first bath, with the aid of the nurse.  And, while I was already in love with you, it was breathtaking to see her give her heart to you in those moments.

Colton's "moment" came with you the next day.

You captured our hearts forever on the day you were born.

From thenceforth, we were five.

Happy Birthday Christopher.

 




© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved