RenovationGirl

Just a Weekend

This weekend was just a weekend.  While this sounds mundane or routine, it was everything but that.  For most people, this would be like every single weekend of their adult lives.  But for us, with so many jobs and a house that requires constant work, this weekend was a glorious "just a weekend."

For the first time in probably six months, I had the entire weekend off.  Okay, well, I had all day Saturday and Sunday off (we'll forget that I worked Friday night...).  Our goal was to de-clutter our office which is the thoroughfare to our downstairs bathroom and one of the ways you can get to our kitchen.  My desk is very large and it is one of the smallest rooms in our house.  We have one built-in bookcase, a fireplace, four doors and two large windows in this room.  We also have two tall and two small bookcases, as well as two short tables.  Oh, and one tall CD shelving unit.  You don't even have to see the place to realize that there is far too much stuff in there.  I have been working hard to get rid of many of my books (a very difficult task for me!) as well as knick-knacky things that accumulate there. While my efforts were strong, as we worked this weekend, they didn't seem quite enough.  We have way too much stuff!

We spent Saturday working on moving things around, cleaning behind furniture, and re-organizing.  Saturday night, we went out to dinner with friends, then came home and enjoyed a quaint little movie (Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day).  We went to bed tired, but feeling like we accomplished something. 

On Sunday, we skipped church (I know, we're heathens) because Builder Boy continues to be sick (that's a whole separate post) and we didn't want him infecting the masses.  Instead, we made a quick trip to a store to buy some Christmas presents and had lunch there.  We came home and while I made a quick trip to the grocery store, Remodel Man and Builder Boy played.  We finished watching another pathetic football game (seriously?!) and then tackled more of the office while we smelled pork and sauerkraut and wieners and potatoes cooking in beer in the slow cooker. 

Now, Builder Boy is in bed, I am doing some much needed grading, Remodel Man is on his way home with Blizzards, and our office, while not completely done, is looking simplified. 

Why do I regale you with this long, drawn out post about the minutiae of my weekend?  Because I never have this relaxed and productive weekends.  Is this how the other half lives?

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...

One Month To Go!

In one month's time, lots of things will be happening for us.  We will have just celebrated Thanksgiving with our families and will be in full holiday preparation mode.  We look forward to this particular holiday since my husband's entire family usually makes it into town-and this is no small feat.  It is a day of eating and talking and laughing and eating some more and talking some more and laughing some more.  It's always a party with my in-laws, even when it's not a party and I like this stress-free day of family.

Around this time, too, will be a change in our lives.  Assuming all goes well, my final monthly blood work check will be over and we will be done with the "not trying" phase of our infertility.  Not sure where that leaves us.  In talking about recently, both Remodel Man and I admitted that while another baby would be wonderful, we would be okay with moving on.  Don't get me wrong, I ache when I see those bright-eyed babies smiling at me at they suck their fingers, but Builder Boy is five now.  He's largely independent. He's easier in some ways than ever and we are able to do more with him.  I think we are both in the "if it happens it happens" camp.  I'm still sad that we are a family of three, but more for Builder Boy than anyone.  So, when the times come and we're given the go ahead to try again, I think we'll just not hinder anything from happening, but we also won't actively "try."

In a month's time, I may also be experiencing a change in career.  I am toying with the decision now, but I'm not convinced which way is the best way for me and for my family.

The most exciting part of the end of November is that we're going to the happiest place on earth-Disney World.  I could not be more excited, especially because we are staying in a pirate room at the Caribbean Resort.  Builder Boy is a big fan of pirates so he will love this.  I'm excited to experience the magic of this trip with Builder Boy and Remodel Man. 

So, this month is a big one for us.  How about for you?

Succumbing to the Season

I normally like fall.  The changing of the season.  The slight chills in the air.  The brilliant shades emerging on the leaves.  A pot of soup on the stove and a over-sized sweatshirt hugging a slightly chilled body.  I live in a place that has the four seasons because I like this change, the feeling that you can start over again and again and again.  But this year?  Yeah, not so much.

I'm not sure if it is because we had a lousy summer.  The weather hardly was summer-like.  Days at the pool were few and far between.  I worked so much and was so stressed that I was never able to relax and enjoy.  There are even more projects unfinished that were to be done already. 

I have been resisting fall for weeks.  While others were happily buying mums and cornstalks, making batches of pumpkin cookies and apple pies, and planning a trip to the pumpkin patch, I was leaving the windows open, grilling seafood and wearing flip-flops.  I'm rebelling against the changing of the seasons!

Slowly, though, I have had to succumb.  Pulling out some fall jammies for Builder Boy.  Washing cozy blankets under which we will spend the next, gulp, six or seven months.  Wearing jeans (but with flip flops!!).  On Sunday, I made my first pot of soup.  I bought the ingredients for the pumpkin drop cookies with icing that Builder Boy loves.  I've stopped shaving my legs every day. I brought down some long sleeve shirts and have started pricing fall mums. 

Today, though, was the final event that lets me know that fall is here and here to stay.  I wore shoes.  Real closed-toe, closed back shoes, and worse yet, with stockings.    My feet are currently begging for flip-flops. The skies are a miserable shade of blah and the air is chilled.  It's time to give in and enjoy this time of year.

This weekend, we will make our second pot of soup, this time with a bit more love, and go apple picking.  We'll pull out the fall decorations and eat pumpkin cookies.  It wasn't an easy transition this year, but here we are.  Welcome to fall!

When It's Time

It's funny that BBM posted this today.  At work last night, something came up that led me to thinking about this exact thing-closing the door on a dream.  It's actually been on my mind a lot recently as I attempt (yet again...) to continue organizing and purging our home.  I had set a date for myself-the day after my 40th birthday.  That was the day I would get rid of all things baby in our home.  It just seemed like a fitting date. 

But last night at work, a young woman who had been pregnant a few months ago, came in not so pregnant anymore.  My heart sank since she had been having extremely high blood pressure and the last I saw her, she looked horrible.  I asked no questions since I wasn't sure what had happened or how she was emotionally.  After she left, I asked another work friend what had happened.  Turns out, they delivered the baby when she was 5-6 months along (this person wasn't sure-clearly not an infertile.  An infertile would have been able to tell you the exact day of the pregnancy that baby had come out).  The baby weighed 2.2 lbs and although extremely premature, was okay.  Yesterday, he weighed 4.4 lbs, doubling his weight and there was already talk of him coming home in a month or so. 

This young woman is a mere 21 years old, not married, and involved with a man who is no good.  She has nothing, including a job right now, as her time consists of driving the hour to the hospital to see her baby, being with the baby, then driving the hour home.  From what I know, there is no family here, and very little support amongst her friends.  She has nothing for this baby-there was no time for a shower with such prematurity. 

And it occurred to me-is this a sign?  Is this God's way of telling me to let go?  Here is this girl in need, with a baby boy, and I have an entire third floor of boy clothes, blankets, toys, books, accessories.  It takes up space and let's face it, the chances of me expanding my family arepretty low.  I did some thinking last night...I think there are some things at this point that I can let go of...things that don't hold much sentimental value.  A bouncy seat that Builder Boy hated and therefore was only used by the cat (I kid you not, it played bird noises and Deconstructor Cat #1 loved this thing!).  Some baby classical music Cd's.  Some baby shoes and clothes that may work for a little guy his size. 

There are more things I think I can part with.  I haven't gone up there to look.  I might just go up there and back out of most things, but I know there are some things I won't use even if there is a miracle addition to our family. And so I will do it.  At least part of it.  And the rest can wait three more years to that monumental birthday. 

It's not easy.  Not after the past year of my life.  But perhaps in letting go some of the material things, the emotional part may ease up.  Or not. 

The Sweetheart Beneath It All

Builder Boy is an excessively crabby child.  He tends more towards crabby than happy.  It's frustrating as a parent because you want your child in these early years to experience joy, and often we feel he doesn't.  We're not sure what to do about it, but we have these moments with him where he displays a sweetness and empathetic nature that stuns us.

Yesterday, on the way to school, he was talking about his friends.  His best friend is now in another school and this has been difficult for Builder Boy.  I asked if he was making new friends in his new class.  He said that yes, he was making friends, but that his old friend was still his best friend. 

He pondered this for a few moments, then said, "Actually, Mama, he is my oldest best friend, but New Friend is my best friend in the whole world.  And you know that when kids ask me if I am their best friend, I say, 'Yes' because I don't want anyone to feel bad. " How sweet is that?  (Okay, yes, it's not honest, but what an endearing thing to do!)

I asked, "So, does this happen a lot? Kids asking you to be best friends?" 

His reply, "Nope!"  So glad he's thought this through for when it does happen!

The More I Give...

the more is expected of me.  Whether at home, at all of my three jobs, with my friends.  I give as much as I can (sometimes more than I should) and still, more is expected of me.  I am tired.  I don't know where else I can pull from to add more time or energy into my day.  I keep thinking that somewhere along the line, something will give-it never does.

I look at my other friends, my neighbors, my colleagues, and I see them going out, shopping, having nice dinners out, sitting on their back porches reading the paper, and I wonder, "How did my life get here? What did I do wrong along the way that got me to this point?"  My life consists of parenting, stress, work, parenting,stress, work, parenting, stress, work.  That's about it.

While I'd like to be the optimistic, go get 'em blogger right now, I can't be.  So, for a little while, until I get it off my chest and throw my blogging hissy fit, I need to be a bit of a downer.  I need to shake my fists at the sky and curse out all the seemingly happy people.  I need to vent and rant and be ticked off. 

You've been warned...

Now THAT'S Motivation For You!

Remodel Man and I have been making great strides with our home...he is 7 bags of mortar away from finishing the brick wall that surrounds our patio, Builder Boy's room is just a few pictures away from being finished, and I am still organizing and cleaning in an effort to change our lifestyle.  With Builder Boy back in school, I get a few hours a week alone to get things done.  So, yesterday, I began tackling the most neglected room in our home...our bedroom.  This is the one room which is overlooked merely because it is easy and acceptable to close off that room when we have company.  First, it's on the second floor and there's no reason any our guests need to be upstairs.  Second, the bedroom is a personal, intimate space.  Third, I think most people understand that this is the room where all the homeless items get dumped once the closets are full and company is on its way.

I started with the piles of clothes about the room...some for Goodwill, some that don't fit into our drawers, some waiting to be dry-cleaned, and some that just needed to be hung/put away.  I was making a dent in the piles when I noticed something...unusual.  On a piece of fleece, I noticed what looked like dust, but different colored.  It was strewn throughout the fabric, which was odd, so I looked closer...and it moved.  Moved, my friends.  On its own.  Moved.  I'm pretty good about spiders and bugs, but I'll admit, it was freaky.  I inspected the moving item and it looked like a fuzzy pill bug.  Ewwwwwwwww!!!!  Looking closer at other clothing items, I saw remnants of the same little fuzzy pill bugs. 

I sprang into action and laundry began.  I washed and washed and washed.  I called Remodel Man and freaked out.  We both researched what these little invaders were...as far as we can tell, they appear to bea variety of carpet beetles.  I can't think about it for too long or I will totally freak out.  Our research shows that these little guys feed on animal product...you know, like dead skin cells, bees' or birds' nests, and food.  The only way to effectively remove them is with vigilant and practically constant cleaning and to remove all possible food sources.  Yeah, have I mentioned that housekeeping is not my forte?  So, whether we want to or not, we must be better about our cleaning.  We have to...we have bugs for goodness' sake!

Only problem is, even with the most vigilant cleaning, these little carpet beetles will always have a food source in our home...since it is an old home, our walls are made of plaster...made with horsehair...which is an animal product...and no matter how many cracks we fill, there are always places these little guys can find to join us in our home.  So, we will vacuum a lot from here on in and hopefully, they'll get that message that they are not welcome here.

In the meantime, EEEEEWWWWWWWW!!!!!!

When You Know It's Time to Turn Off the TV

Me:  Builder Boy, do you want me to buy more cantaloupe at the store?

Builder Boy:  Yes, Mama....Mama? 

Me: Yep...

BB: You know that if you want to buy cantaloupe, you really need a green bag.

Me:  A green bag? 

BB: Yes, a green bag!  (getting annoyed with me already) If you keep your cantaloupe in a green bag, it lasts forever and doesn't rot.

Me:  Uh yes, the green bag...

Thank you, Deb.bie M.eyer, for your "educational" commercials...

To The Knees

It's no secret...I struggle daily to be a mom. My temperament is not a mom temperament.  I lack patience and creativity.  At times, I lack compassion and flexibility.  Often, I lose my cool over silly, typical child situations.  Every night, I pray for guidance, compassion, understanding, patience.  Every morning, I give myself a pep talk that this will be the day I succeed at one or all of these.  By mid-day, I question my ability and ponder why this is so difficult for me. 

From comments on this blog and conversations with friends, these feelings are not unique.  Yet, there sometimes comes a moment with your child where you get taken to your knees by a gesture, a word, a look from your child.  You feel like someone punched you right in the gut.

Last night, this happened and it devastated me and opened my eyes a bit.

Builder Boy, like most children, mimic the speech and behaviors of those around him.  He's been playing again with the thirteen year old neighbor child and a four year old neighbor child.  While I like the presence of an older child in the yard while they play, this particular child is having an incredibly difficult transition from child to adult.  He wavers from kind and generous with his time and toys, to mean and nasty.  Builder Boy is often hurt by this inconsistent behavior, no matter the explanation.  Whey they do play, Builder Boy picks up language and behaviors that are inappropriate to his age.  Example?  Yesterday, he called me "Woman!"  He likes to talk very negatively about just about anything.  He sounds like a teenager without as large of a vocabulary.

Last night, he was particularly outspoken.  (Did I mention he called me woman?)  I warned him of speaking like this, or acting like this, and that if he continued, he would not be allowed to play with this older child. Naturally, he was very upset and so began another horrible, frustrating bedtime.  By the time I finally got him under the covers, ready to sleep, he demanded yet another thing from me.  I sighed loudly,a trait from my father which I hate to this day and swore I'd never do to my own child, and simply said, "Do you have to make everything so miserable?" 

I knew as soon as they slipped out of my mouth that my words were damaging, words that slowly pick away at the soul, devastate the emotional well-being.  While normally Builder Boy would react by flipping out, he simply slid deeper under the covers pulled up to his nose and said nothing.  I walked out of the room and told him I loved him, but wondered why I said them when my earlier words did not show this to him.  He whimpered back and I left.  As I threw in a load of laundry, I heard him crying.  Not the normal "Look at me! I'm so upset" crying, but a whimpering, heart-wrenching sob. 

"Why are you crying?" I poked my head in the door.

"I'm sad," he cried.

"Why?"

"I don't knoooooooowwwwwwwww!" He wailed into his covers.

To my knees.  It brought me to my knees.  Not only had I hurt him, he didn't understand why I said what I said, and that makes it even more damaging.  "Quick," I thought. "Make this right!"

So I crawled in bed with him and held him in my arms until he stopped crying.  We talked a bit, I told him I was sorry and how much it upset me when we were upset with one another.  We talked about speaking nicely to one another and trying to ask politely instead of making demands.  We talked about using nice words, words that made us feel good instead of sad. And then comfortable and secure, he fell asleep.

I went back to my routine...praying for guidance.  Today will be better.  We will work hard and at times we will fail.  We are imperfect creatures. 

I just wish that I could take away any moments like this.