RenovationGirl

Say Something Funny, My Laughter's Running Out

Builder Boy loves when we laugh at something he does or says.  He is a funny kid and this often happens.  But, like I'm sure many kids, he doesn't know when it's just not funny anymore.  He'll say or do whatever makes us laugh over and over and over again.  He used to get very angry when we weren't laughing anymore, too.  He's starting to understand that what was funny at first, after 100 or so times, it's just not that funny to others. 

He has never been a child to whom laughing came easily.  He did the whole belly laugh when he was a baby, but as he grew up, it took a lot to make him really laugh.  So, when he gets started, he likes to keep going. The other night in the car, the three of us we were goofing around and laughing about something and, as laughter does, our knee-slapping laughter turned to chuckles to giggles to merely smiles on our faces.  It got peacefully and companionably quiet in the car when we heard Builder Boy from the back say, "Say something funny, my laugher's running out."  That started the laughter all over again.

But later, after we had put him to bed, his simple and uncomplicated comment hit me.  For over a year now, my laugher's has run out.  It's been tough and a constant barrage of complications.  My heart has ached and my shoulder have been weighed heavy with burden.  And I have, in my own way, begged out of desperation for someone to "say something funny" to help bring that laughter back. But I've learned in the past year that no one but yourself can bring that laughter back.  And while I'm still not laughing, I'm finding a chuckle now and then.  I feel as if the clouds have parted a bit and the sun is sneaking through here and there.  And while life is still throwing complications our way (my father-in-law is currently in the hospital with some crazy infection), I feel as if I  might be moving forward now. It's a good feeling and one that I have needed for quite some time. 

So, if you have something funny to say, I know for a fact that someone somewhere has their laughter running out...

Sucking It In

So, I'm wondering...if standing up straight and sucking in your stomach makes you look thinner, what can I do to make my butt look smaller (okay, besides eat less you smart alecks!!)?  I mean, there's no way to suck in your butt, is there?

(Oh, can you imagine the searches that will bring people here for that last line?)

Little Murmurs, Loud Roars

Leading up to vacation, and for the past few months, I have been experiencing some not so fun symptoms...a racing heart and troubled breathing.  For the past seven years I have been mostly caffeine-free, but since my molar pregnancy and D&C and being told to use contraceptives for at least six months, I have slowly added caffeine back into my life. Dr. Pepper.  Lots more chocolate.  Coffee with half-caff.  Because caffeine was new to my diet, I blamed my symptoms on that.  Until...a few weeks ago when I made a fully decaf pot of coffee and still had the same symptoms. 

First thought...anxiety.  Certainly, with all I've been through in the past ten months, anxiety is understandable.  Working so much, never getting a break, being financially challenged, and living amidst the chaos all adds into my intense anxiety.  But I have always been able to manage it.  Until now. After much thinking, praying, talking, discussing, and crying, I decided to succumb to my anxiety and call the doc for some drugs.  So off I went to be free of my symptoms...

I went in for anxiety and came out with a heart murmur.  No relief from my symptoms...just more doctor's appts, more blood draws (because I haven't had enough of those in the last four months...), and more waiting.  Had an echo, ekg, and am now sporting the latest in cardio fashion-a Holter monitor.  Trust me when I tell you, it's all the rage in the above eighty crowd. 

I'm feeling a bit blue about it all...not that it's a murmur, because from what I know of them, they're not a big deal, but because it's yet another thing to worry about.  It's more time away from Builder Boy.  It's more copays and doctors bills.  It's just more.  Sometimes the burden of it all is a bit much and I feel surrounded by the noise of it all.  I try to see the big picture, but have difficulty through all "this." 

Things will ease up eventually (I hope), but in the meantime...ugh.

Too Much Stuff

Sometimes, the most obvious statements are the ones you need to hear.  Last week, BBM and her kiddos came to spend what turned out to be less than 24 hours with us. It was nice to see one another face to face and watch our kids play together again.  Big I and Builder Boy instantly picked up where they left off last year and Lil C tagged along some.  BBM and I enjoyed some much needed one on one time just sitting and eating and drinking and talking and laughing (ask her about the adventures of Renovation Girl and Bad Kitty...).  RIght before they were leaving, in my PMS hysteria, I asked her to be honest with me...was my house that bad? 

She looked around and said, "No.  You just have a lot of stuff."

I know this.  I live it, but hearing someone else say it was like someone was hitting me in the gut.  I always hate going to other people's houses because when I leave them, I always feel so horrible about my own house.  I have always blamed it on the fact that I live in a home that has seen 125+ years of living.  Most of my friends' homes haven't seen a combined 10 years.  Where I complain about holes in the ceiling and knob and tube wiring, they complain about a leaky faucet or what paint colors to choose.  It just doesn't compare.  So, I blamed the status of my home on the "old factor."  It could never look like their homes even if it was clean. 

But that's not it.  It's that new or old, they throw things away.  They are not pack rats.  They live simpler, tidier, clutter free  lives.  We don't.  I was thrown.  How do I fix this?  We have a lot of stuff in a lot of rooms.  We don't have an attic...we have an entire third floors with five good-sized rooms of stuff.  We have a basement that spans the length and width of the entire house filled with stuff.  Every mantle (we have seven) is loaded with pictures and candles and knick knacks.  There is stuff everywhere.  Yes, of course I know it's there, but I live with it, and so have grown accustomed to it.  So when BBM said, "You just have a lot of stuff" I realized just how bad things had gotten. And I did what I do when I am overwhelmed by my life.  I cried.  And reached out.

I reached out to my friend Porsche Nut who is currently knee-deep in old lady wall paper in her new house.  I sobbed.  I yelled.  I railed at the world.  And calmly listening to it, she comforted, provided insight, and even offered to leave her old-lady wallpaper mess to help me with my packrattiness (I said no, don't worry...This wallpaper is really bad and it is in every single room of her house!).  Our solution?  Not earth-shattering, but manageable.  Small chunks.  Take 30 minutes a day or every other day depending on my work schedule and just clean.  A drawer.  A couple of shelves. Part of a closet.  The most important part of this?  Get Remodel Man helping. 

The good news...we're doing it.  Sometimes, it's more than 30 minutes, other times it's only 15, but the important part is that we're trying.  We won't keep this motivation or momentum forever, but we are making progress now. My goal is to have my office space purged and organized by the beginning of school...this is doable.  I wish I cold get the entire house done by then, but it's not reasonable.  So we'll try for the one room and hope for the best.

Any pack rats out there?  How do you handle the attachment to items?

I'd Rather Be in Stirrups

I never in a million years would have thought I'd say this, but after my six month check up at the dentist's office today, it's official:  I would so much rather be at the gynecologist's office than the dentist's.  After far too many times in the stirrups, (seriously, if I even see a saddle, I'm ready to take my pants off!) I just find it easier and faster to be at a gynecologist's visit.

And I figure I'd rather kick the doctor than bite them when they tick me off..

In the Early Morning Hours

I'm trying something new this week to help me with the constant feeling of being twenty steps behind in every phase of my life.  It is not an easy thing for me, but it has its rewards.

I'm getting up early. 

Okay, for most of you, this may not be an issue, but for me, who stays up extremely late grading papers, cleaning, and relaxing, this is a huge deal.  I feel that after an entire school year of getting four hours of sleep a night, I deserve my eight hours of sleep over the summer.  So, I would sleep in until Builder Boy would wake me.  Sometimes it's 7:30, other times it's 9:30.  When I got up that way, it felt good to sleep, but I had to go from wonderful sleep to spirited five year old...before my coffee.  By the time I got Builder Boy dressed and downstairs, we were already ready to kill one another.  Not a good way to start the day. Hence my early morning plan.

I'm not getting up that early, but earlier than he is.  I set the coffee the night before and some mornings I wake up to the smell of it brewing. Mmmmm. Some days I get my shower out of the way immediately, other times I just enjoy my warming early morning drink stinky and scungy, but relaxed and waking up more peacefully. I discovered that by doing this, I am more patient throughout the day.  I feel less resentful when I can't get my tasks done.  I am playing more and better with Builder Boy.  I am cooking healthier breakfasts and planning more dinners in.  I'm saying, "Just a minute" a lot less to Builder Boy.

All in all, these early morning hours are centering me for the day ahead and while I know this will not work during the school year (unless I want to only get three hours of sleep), it is good to know that we are peaceful and having fun for the summer months. 

I'm interested in how you center yourself.  What rituals or habits provide you with some peace?

Forgot to Tell You

Last week's blood results continued to show a negative HCG number.  So, we're officially on monthly blood draws now.  It is quite a relief and a lot less stress having to figure out how to do the blood draw every stinking week.  I am cautiously optimistic that things are going to be okay.  Hallelujah!

A Better Day

I had a crappy weekend.  It wasn't any big thing that happened, just lots of little things which caused me to revert back to the "woe is me" and "life is unfair" pity party that ended in me sobbing hysterically. 

And then there was today.  Builder Boy went fishing with my parents and he was gone for four and a half hours.  It was heavenly.  I didn't take a nap.  I didn't read a book.  I didn't even take a shower.  I cleaned and organized and cleaned some more.  Did I mention that it was heavenly?

There is so much truth to the idea that you feel more in control if the space around you is neat, tidy, and organized.  While I still have a long way to go, having such a large chunk of time today to make a large dent allows me to feel like I am at least slightly closer to my goal of not living like pigs. 

It has also opened my eyes a bit to the wonderful things in my life.  Since hearing about my roommate, I have felt even more incompetent than usual, bringing up all my old post-teen insecurities.  But today, I think I finally accepted that I am who I am.  I will never live in an immaculate home.  I will never be as patient or creative a mom as I would like to be.  I will never be rich.  Oh well. I have this beautiful and spirited little boy who loves me in his way.  I am saving a piece of history and architecture by living in this "old" home, no matter that it bleeds me dry.  While we don't have any money to spare, we mostly make our bills every month.  And even though I hate the one place at which I work, I love the kids who I teach there. 

So there it is.  Today is a better day and I am able to remind myself of the blessings in my life.  There are days when this is very hard for me, but for today, I can see clearly.

If you haven't already done so, head on over to Black Belt Mama and congratulate her on her promotion to black belts (not one, but two of them!!) and check out her new design-it looks awesome and so does her black belt!  Also, Heidi finished her first IVF last week and got a negative.  My heart is breaking for her!  If you have a second, head on over and leave an encouraging comment. 

Delayed Reaction

I guess it was inevitable.  Things happened so quickly that we were just dealing with the immediacy.  I was doing soooo well.  In three days time, we found out we had lost our pregnancy, learned that the pregnancy might be molar, did all my pre-op tests and visits, had the D&C, and began recovery.  There wasn't a whole lot of time to stop and mourn what was happening.  We just had to get through it. And so we did.

By Monday, I thought I was home free.  I had little to no bleeding.  Little to no cramping or pain.  My spirits were fine, considering.  I was back at work after a long spring break, up early, no time to rest, going from teacher to mother.  Soon after Builder Boy came home from school, the cramping started.  This was followed with an incredibly tense cramp, very similar to a contraction, and then the bleeding began.  Perhaps this was the flood gate opening.  Since then, I just feel sad.  Lonely.  Overwhelmed.  Yet, it hasn't been bad enough that I break down.  People ask how I am, and I smile and say fine, reassuring them that I am okay.  But I guess I'm not.  I don't know.

I'm a crier by nature.  I've told you this before.  But this time, I find the tears don't come as much or with much gusto.  A good cry frees me up from the sadness for a little bit, and without this outlet, I'm feeling like a dam that's about to burst-just not quite yet.  Sometimes, it's a conscious effort to control my emotions-at work it's not acceptable, with my family I'm trying to lessen their sorrow in this too (and we've had a tough year so far with Dad's stroke and my sister's abdominal surgery), and as a mom with a child too little to understand, well, you just have to suck it up.  The other times, though, I'm just not dealing with it, I guess, and therefore, not much happens even if I am able to let go.

On one hand, I am incredibly sad for another lost opportunity to fulfill our family, provide Builder Boy with a sibling, and bring our hearts the joy of new life.  On the other hand, I am terrified by what's to come.  Preliminary pathology results show a partial molar pregnancy.  These results weren't conclusive, so they have been sent to our local women's hospital who specialize in these types of things.  So we wait some more. 

This delayed reaction is unnerving.  I kind of thought I was fine.  But with Monday's flood gate and a passing week of work and stress and the realization that my baby is going to be five in just a few days, it's all getting to be a bit too much.  With each passing day, people forget what happened to me.  I don't expect them to fawn over me or "handle me with care," yet my pain is increasing when others assume it is lessening. 

If you've read this far, wow, and thanks.  It's more than noticeable that I am all over the place right now.  Bear with me...

I Can't Stop...

eating.  You thought I was going to say crying, didn't you?  Surprisingly, no.  I am by nature a crier-when sad, mad, or laughing hysterically, but for some reason, I'm all dried up over the lost pregnancy.  I don't really want to talk about it with people, because what do you say?  What can they say?  So I eat.

During the very short-lived pregnancy, I found myself ravenous...I had a hunger that literally could not be filled.  I was eating us out of house and home and I couldn't help it.  When we sensed danger lurking around the corner, I decided that if this pregnancy went south, I would gorge myself on Doritos and Dr. Pepper....and I have...over and over and over again. 

I know this isn't healthy.  I know this isn't the way to be eating.  But I can't help thinking of how well I was eating during the pregnancy, and that didn't do a darn thing to save the pregnancy.  So, I am giving myself this week.  I can eat what I want, when I want and how much I want.  After this upcoming weekend, I will go back to eating in moderation and relatively healthful foods. 

For now, though, anyone care to join me for a bag of Doritos?