Wait, how does this work...

Nothing like beating a dead horse, and really I don't love that phrase, but it works...

It is Sunday evening. It is 6:24 to be exact. I am in my new life, the life that is sans-teaching, but working full time. Forgive my list making, but maybe I am forgetting something...Laundry is done. House is clean. (has to be its up for sale) Lunches are semi-packed for tomorrow. Books are read. Okay. So now what?

I don't recall being in this position before...kids are entertained/entertaining themselves. Dinner is finished and cleaned away. So what do I do with myself? This is so odd.

I offered this blog up to a writer friend of mine and her reaction was of mild revulsion. Why? Extreme narcissism. My extreme narcissism to be exact. I guess she missed the disclaimer at the front, but anyway one of the points she emphasized was that I am NOT reinventing the wheel here. Women have been struggling with rearing children and being themselves/working, etc. for ages and I wasn't saying anything new. Blech. But I can't swallow that, somehow I can't do anything else BUT talk about this right now. I can't figure out another way to work through this. It's new territory and finding my way through it often feels like I am the first and only on who has done it. So true, not ground breaking stuff, for her, for many, but it is for me.

My point? I kind of lost it in there somewhere. But I think it was something to the effect of:

Now that I have some time to do something, what the heck do I do?

Life seems to me to be one big balancing act, and as soon as I am balanced someone throws another object at me and realignment begins again.

One of those days?

Sitting here at my desk I am trying to track why exactly my shoulders feel fixed to my ears...at what today did I become a stress case and why can't I shake it?

Okay, to start, an attempt at Jillian Anderson's Trouble Zones dvd. Note the word attempt. This video kicks your butt. Kicks mine anyway. This is the third attempt at finishing it and still not happening. Oh and they say the workout is 40 min. Not quite, thank you very much.

So begins the mad rush of the morning. Shower dress kids wake up advent calendar arguing dress me dress them clean up breakfast almost out of milk that was bread, once, sorry kiddo no toast and butter for breakfast baby pancakes for one not for the other socks on shoes on hair brushed chase other child to get him dressed make him breakfast doesn't want that okay I'll eat it laundry don't forget to put it in the dryer UGH dryer is full okay fold clothes chase child to dress again pack lunch don't forget snack forgot to decorate stockings for school ugh sorry kiddo maybe tonight 8:25 running out of time grab purse grab kisses drive away with car seat needed in other car get to work before I notice too far to turn back

And that was just before 8:45.

WHAT THE!

So, here I am fishing for the time of the Williamsburg Parade on the VA Gazette. Scroll down, nothing. Go across to the right hand nav and lo and behold, what do I see: The Viscosity of Me.

Huh? That sounds like my blog. THAT IS MY BLOG! Gulp. Hehehe, nervous laugh. I haven't written for quite some time. And turns out it has been posted as a link on the VA Gazette. Hehehe. Okay. Think. This is good. This is good because I really love writing. This is bad because I haven't written for some time. (Posts to follow about why I haven't written anything, and surely there are some doozies to come.) NOT that I haven't thought about it. In fact I think about it quite a bit.

I recently read this wonderful book, Better, A Surgeon's Notes on Performance by Atul Gawande. It is a truly insightful book about his experience thus far a surgeon, and his desire to examine his own preformance. I mention it for two reasons, one, I think you should read it, whoever you are, and two, in the summation he says "write something." I know he wasn't talking to me specifically, but he offers up writing as a way of problem solving, as well as a way of communicating. Surely this is a lousy way to sum up a great book, and it has a ton of other really compelling information, but that part hit me. 


Why? It applies to everyone. Write something. Write about your life, your kids, your struggles, your faith, write about what moves you, or what breaks your heart or what really ticks you off. 


Write something.

The day before.

Today is the day before. The day before my little elf of a girl gets on a big yellow bus and goes off to kindergarten. Sigh. The theme of this blog seems to be that of everlasting conflict, and this situation fits as well as any. She is just a baby! Or she was, just a second ago...

So how do I let her get on the bus, and pretend that I am doing fine? I swear it was just yesterday that I would cradle her in my arms and she would stare up at me with those deep blue eyes, looking into my very soul. She is such a challenge one moment and blows me away with her thoughts in the next. The other day she told me "Mom I love you more than all of the stars in the sky." I cried.

Her latest philosophical rant has been to convince Holden that the Holy Ghost aka Holy Spirit lives in your heart. Unfortunately Holden does not want ghosts in his heart and was very upset by this idea. An argument ensued that went something like this: but it is a good ghost, it is God's holy ghost. NO GHOSTS IN HEART. NOT WANT GHOSTS IN HEART! Ella, please, Holden doesn't understand what you mean. But mom it is a good ghost, it is a ghost from heaven. At this point, Holden begins to cry and Ella rolls her eyes, I mean why not, she is five years old...

So now I seem to be handing her off to the universe, asking other people to take care of her and love her, at least from 8:50am until 4:30pm M-F. How do I put my faith in these people who are so wholly unfamiliar with her? How do I trust that nobody will hurt her? That they will see how wonderful and talented and amazing she is...does any parent know how to do this?

Or do they sit where I sit, thinking to themselves that if she gets bullied by anyone I will cause them physical harm, if anyone is unfairly cross with her they will find me at their doorstep with a bat...are these irrational thoughts? Right now they feel pretty rational...am I just being an over protective mother bear? 

I do have to admit I am mildly excited that she will be asking someone other than myself to play Thumballina. Not because I am tired of playing, but she always scripts my lines for me and I am looking for just a little more freedom in my creative play. This could indicate that I don't have to worry about her being bullied...

Ahhhhh. Motherhood. It just might break me.

Hold me to it

Worky worky worky.
As I have said, I love to work. Since my kids were born I have done a good job (in my OWN opinion, anyway) of keeping one foot in the industry. I felt compelled to, things change so quickly that you must have a hold on it or you end up too far behind. So I teach online courses and freelance. (shameless plug: www.smckennastudio.com)

I find that working on my own has a lot of benefits. I am very nice to myself. I compliment my work. I take lunch. I work long hours, happily, if I need to. I make a good pot of coffee. Best of all, I don't ever snap at myself. (I know that sounds ridiculous, but you get my meaning.)

Now lets talk about working with others.
I don't like to be snapped at. Pretty much ever. I don't care who you are, I find it rude, and I find it disrespectful. Who says it is okay for YOU to snap at someone else? HOW are you more important than that me? How is your inability to deal with stress MY PROBLEM? WHERE do you get the right to treat someone else as if they don't matter. I DON'T LIKE TO BE BULLIED. By snapping at me you are being disrespectful and you are bullying me.

Since I don't snap, I find it very upsetting when someone snaps at me. I am taken aback.

I am generally non-confrontational. I don't like to argue and I really don't like to have to go to someone and call them out. In fact I will usually do anything I can to avoid that –this is where the problem starts. I am offended but afraid/reluctant to fight back. Afraid to say anything because I really don't like those kind of discussions. (This is a personal failing.)

I am going on thirty six years old and instead of fighting back I start to get anxiety. And then it gets worse. I get shaky and nervous. I give that person power to do it again and again! I worked with someone for two years who did this. It got so bad that even when I received an email from them I would get a sick stomach. Come on! It is sad to even write that! I hate to admit it, but it is true.

Now if you know me I don't seem like someone who would cower. I think I seem pretty put together. But I was raised, sorry mom, to not talk back, and it is a hard habit to break. That said, I am an adult and I need to change that behavior. 

So what this is leading to, well I have been snapped at. And it was in front of four other people. Nuh- uh. Not having it. The line has been drawn. And now, in order to prevent a situation like before, I have to grab sack (forgive the term, but it fits) and tell this individual that I will not deal with it.

Why am I writing this in my blog? It is seriously important to me. I have to do a better job of telling people what I need, what I can deal with and what I can't.  If I write it down I can't just excuse it away.

I want you to hold me to it.

bad bad yoga

It has occurred to me that the busier I am with design work, the less of a basket case I am. So that is good, but I hate being so easy to figure out. Or maybe it is good, it isn't like I have some deep seeded problems that it will take years of therapy to uncover. No. I just like to work. Could be worse. So that said, the last week I have been a worker bee, leaving less time to be tortured by my children. Okay, torture is a strong word. Think of something milder, and that is probably right. Not that mild. Okay, better.

Today was not a lot different, ran to work for a few hours. Learned something new about a software that I use, love that. Got home and for some reason, decided to work out. Well this workout came on the heels of a yoga class that about killed me. I mean I was laying in bed last night thinking I am so exhausted that I may die from yoga. Has anyone died from yoga? I am not sure, but I am convinced that last night I was on the precipice.

So workout today, and fully realize that I am not yet recovered from initial workout. I am smoked. I fit the kids with drinks and snacks and show and head up to my bed. I lay there just resting. I can't sleep, you never know what kids will do when they are awake and you are asleep. It can be very bad. Heh heh.

Enter Holden.

Mom
Yes honey
someping just happen when I take cheese to have a snack at table. make mess.
cheese?
yes
cheese for popcorn.
he thinks for a minute. no.
I think for a minute. cheese from the fridge?
yes, someping just happen (this is where he throws up his arms like, beats me mom, don't know how this happened. I would also like to note that this child loves the work JUST. I am guessing that if he says JUST he thinks it is less of a big deal. Me just eat penny. Me just use marker on wall, you know, no big deal)
what happened? this could be bad, he must have found the cheese we sprinkle on popcorn and has once again dumped it all over the table...
you come down now
okay, I will come down

we walk down the steps. he brings me to the kitchen table.

Well apparently in some languages cheese actually means raw EGG. From what I can decipher from the cheese story, my darling was looking for a hard boiled egg to eat. Naturally he grabs the first egg he sees and cracks it.

He realizes that one wasn't really working and that maybe he should go to the PLAYROOM and try another egg in case that one might work. Well no luck with that one either...

Okay, I am blaming the yoga.

jobby job job

Started a new job today. Part time, in town, in my field. This is very good. Three out of four requirements met.

Like to make a small point about this. Two years ago I applied for this job. I was offered it, but I turned it down. Many reasons, but always regretted not taking it. For two years it bothered me.

Started writing my blog when I really needed to get some things down and off of my chest. Prayed, because I really needed some guidance. Phone rings and job is mine if I want it.

Hmmm.

It is kind of amazing actually.


(okay, actually it was an email, but that didn't sound as good)