RenovationGirl

Funny How That Works Out...

We are not a family who is good with keeping a schedule.  We clean whenever it gets to the point that its dangerous.  We cook whatever is in the freezer.  We do laundry when we need it.  We go to church at a different mass every week.  For the past five years, my work schedule has changed every day of the week.  Some weeks, I worked Monday, Wednesday, Friday, the next week I'd work Tuesday, Thursday. Throw in a couple of nights at the retail job or a weekend day just for a little more fun.  This worked for us.  It allowed us to not have to put Builder Boy in a stranger's care, it allowed me to be a part-time SAHM, part-time WAHM, part-time work outside the home mom.  I was able to bring in my portion of the money AND be active in the day to day aspects of my son's life.  It wasn't easy, but it worked.

All summer, the thought of school starting loomed over us.  For the first time in Builder Boy's life, I would not be here any morning to get him up.  This also would be the first year of full day school.  We dreaded the consistency of it all and the pressure it added to an already stressful life.

Well, aren't we surprised!

We are on week four of our new fall schedule.  I am working full-time at the one teaching job (still with two part-time jobs, too) and Builder Boy is now in kindergarten all day, every day.  I am no more tired than I was with the old schedule, although I do miss the every-other-day-getting-a-full-night-sleep aspect of our old schedule.  And while it is tough to keep up the momentum of getting everyone ready every day of the week, we are so pleasantly surprised that we like this new schedule.

For once, we feel like a normal family.  We go to school/work, we come home and eat dinner, we hang out, then we go to bed.  I do have the ominous feeling at times of living like Bill Murray's character in the "Groundhog's Day" movie, but there is something nice and reassuring about a consistent lifestyle.  Strangely, the house is staying cleaner, more meals are being cooked, more quality time is being spent with Builder Boy, and more bills are being paid on time and fully. 

So, that's where we are.  How's your new school year going?

Sunday Night Blues

Do you get the Sunday night blues?  My dad always talked about them when I was growing up and when I entered the adult world, I knew exactly what he meant.  There you are, happily going about your weekend when BLAMO! it hits you.  You have to work tomorrow.  Well, I don't start back to work until the week after this (three weeks before Labor Day-how ridiculous is that?!) and yet I already have the Sunday Night Blues.

Mostly because we just got back from vacation and I know that this is my last full week of freedom.  In exactly nine days, I will officially be back to work full-time, plus my two and a 1/2 side jobs.  It's fine.  Truly it is.  We will all adjust to our new lives, but, to be honest with you:  I DON'T WANNA!!!!!  While I have worked the past years many more hours than the normal full-time worker, I could do much of it in the middle of the night, in my pj's, no make up or cute clothes.  I certainly got a lot less sleep than the average human, but it worked for me.  I could be a part-time stay at home mom and feel like I was involved, yet make money and feel some sense of personal satisfaction beyond diaper changes and Lego contests.  It worked.

Now, I will be up 5 days a week a 5 AM.  I will never be the one to take my son to school. I will have to race to pick him up after school.  I cannot be there if he gets sick at school (I work an hour a way) or volunteer in his classroom.  At least one night a week, I will work outside the home at my retail job.  All nights I will have to work my online job.  Occasionally I will work my stamping consultant job.  It will be crazy.

YET, there is some peace of mind that I will have a steadier and bigger pay check.  The benefits are better than what we've had.  The drive to work, while long, is familiar as is the curriculum I teach. All will be well. 

But boy these Sunday Night Blues are yucky!!  :)

The Brightness of Night

When you grieve, the nights are always so difficult.  The darkness is haunting and reminding and quiet.  The solitude and cover of the blackness permits the thoughts to weave inside your mind, sometimes freeing you and sometimes tying you up tightly.  For the widow it is the coldness of the sheets.  For the mother, it is the emptiness...of the crib, of the womb, of the heart.

I think for someone post-miscarriage, I'm doing amazingly well.  Everyone I know (minus one-thanks AWN!) has forgotten about this.  No one asks about it (it's really so passe!) and all assume I'm fine.  And truly, in the public day to day, I am fine.  If you asked me honestly how I felt, I would still tell you fine.  Because I think I am. 

But, there's been trouble on the home front.  It's no new battle. It's one I have fought for, oh, six years now.  I have tried many things to establish a peace treaty, but unfortunately, the opponents are tough and rather stubborn. We struggle every single day to come to some type of terms...me and motherhood. The innocent victim of this war?  Builder Boy.

I have talked often about my intense feelings of guilt and incompetency, how I never fit the image of the mother I want to be.  I have given excuses-too many jobs, not enough money, infertility-and begged off of ideas to help.  But things are getting critical here...damage is being done and issues must be rectified.  I need help.

Each night as darkness falls, the brightness of my own feelings blind me.  I am overcome by my own incompetency and the failings of each day (and they are many).  Each night I assess the damage and strategically plan for the next day.  All of the wrongs I will right and the things I will do better.  As I attempt to sleep, I pray and make commitments.  Yet, each morning, as the sun rises to its own light, I am shaded by it.  A certain darkness descends and I find myself feeling alone and scared and incapable.  I look at this beautiful child who will in just one month's time will leave this house daily for all day school, and I wonder, "How have my failings impacted him?"  The harsh words, the impatience, the time spent working, or time wasted on the computer, too few books read and far too much television.  Not enough flash cards, not enough play dates.  No sibling. 

He is a sweet and clever boy.  He is kind and empathetic to others.  He uses great manners in public.  He is full of wonder and energy.  He is inquisitive and imaginative.  And every day, as he grows, I feel as if I take a little of those positives away from him with my own negatives.  So, maybe I am not okay.  Maybe this miscarriage has damaged me far more than I admit.  Maybe this subconscious refusal to "not be okay" is causing my bad parenting.

So, it's time.  Changes are coming.  Builder Boy deserves a more engaging mother...a happier and nicer and more patient mother.  And I need some peace of mind as the night enfolds.

A Lego Birthday Celebration

I've been meaning to post about Builder Boy's 6th birthday, which was almost a month ago.  He wanted a party at the house, which although is a lot of work and expense, I have to confess I enjoy.  It allows me to be creative and I don't have to leave the house to do it! 

It had been threatening to rain all day, but about the time the guests started to arrive, the skies cleared. We were able to have the entire party outside.  All of those organized games I created?  Yea, totally didn't do those-the kids were having too much fun just playing.  Builder Boy's preschool class this year is a delightfully kind and close group of kids.  They love one another and just love to be together. So, together they were.  It was a lovely day.  Builder Boy had a blast and was spoiled rotten.  It couldn't have been a better 6th Birthday!

The favors: homemade Lego brick crayons and minifigures, Lego Blox candy, and a bag of Legos all in a "Lego box."

The favor boxes, pinata and cake:

The Pinata: 

Fixing the homemade pinata...clearly I didn't make it strong enough.  (Sorry you have to tilt your head.) 

Cake close-up...Remodel Man iced the cake!!  He did an awesome job!

Candy candy candy!!!! 

 

What a great day and what a great little boy.  Although it's late, Happy 6th Birthday to the best little boy in the  universe!  We love you more than anything, Builder Boy!
 
 
 

Same Story, Different Ending

I used to love the Choose Your Own Adventure books.  The fun of each time picking a different path and different ending was so exciting and cool.  It allowed me to risky, adventurous, and courageous-all things that I wasn't. 

About four weeks ago, I found myself experiencing the same story I did over six years ago.  Amusingly enough, I had just shared this story on here.  Here's how the beginning goes:  A girl schedules laprascopic surgery, girl discovers she is pregnant. 

Now, if I were choosing my own adventure for this, I would make the same choices I made six years ago, resulting in the birth of my adorable, funny, and challenging Builder Boy.  This would be the one time that I wouldn't stray from the same story line.  Unfortunately, life doesn't work that way.

Five weeks ago, I scheduled my surgery.  It was scheduled for May 6th.  A week later, just 4 days before Builder Boy's party, I realized that I had missed my period.  I took a test and voila!  It was positive.  A blood test the next day and every other day for the next four weeks confirmed the pregnancy.  At six weeks, we had an ultrasound that measured smaller than six weeks.  Everything else was fine, so the doctor suggested that my dates were off or I ovulated late.  One week later, now 7 weeks along, we went in for another ultrasound.  This time, there was a sac measuring 5 weeks, 2 days...still too small to see a heartbeat.  One week later, today, I went in for an ultrasound-no heartbeat, unusual growth, and what looks to be chromosomal abnormalities. 

The D&C is tomorrow at 1:30.  My chart now states "recurrent pregnancy losses" as a new cause of infertility.  It seems I have added yet another notch on that ever-growing infertility belt.

So there it is.  Same story, but totally different ending.

Oscillation

Isn't that a great word-oscillate?  I had an oscillating fan at my first apartment...it was great to keep the air moving around on those oppressively hot days-back and forth, back and forth, bach and forth.  It soon developed a squeak that no WD-40 could remove.  It was annoying, but on those unfortunately on those oppressively hot days, a squeak was better than a wall of heat. 

I feel a little bit like that squeaky oscillating fan.  I find myself shifting back and forth between who I am and who I want to be.  I  make strides to who I want to be, but get pushed back when reality shoves its way in.  Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. 

I recently stumbled across a blog title (and can't find the link again!!) that discussed finding herself  in motherhood.  This is a common problem when you go from woman to mother.  You lose sight of who you are and how you fit into this world besides being a "mom."  I joke about "what I want to be when I grow up."  I don't have an answer to that, but I do know how I want to live and how that is nothing like how I am living. 

How am I living?  Tired.  Paycheck to paycheck.  I'm not reading enough or attending enough cultural events.  I'm not eating as well as I should and I'm not exercising at all.  My house is a disorganized, cluttered, and dirty disaster.  I don't spend enough time with my friends or doing the creative activities that make me peaceful.  Our lives lack structure and therefore discipline. I feel unfulfilled and insecure and static.

How do I want to live?  I want to have some financial security.  I want to scrapbook, write, read great books, hand-stamp cards.  I want to cook healthy meals (mostly from scratch) and exercise regularly.  I want to organize my home.  I want to visit (and be visited!) by friends.  I want to feel fulfilled and secure and dynamic. 

But every time I make great strides towards how I want to live, some obstacles get in my way.  Plans are foiled.  Disappointments abound.  When that does happen, it holds me down, makes me feel incapable of overcoming and I stagnate. 

As I watch my son play with my husband on this unseasonably warm April night, I know that before I know it, my little guy will be on his own, living his own life.  I need to figure out who I am and how to live this life now. 

How do you do it?  How do you live the life you want with the obstacles that have been placed in your path?

On Being Valued

Lately, the idea of value has been weighing on me.  Not just in one part of my life, but in all-wife, mother, teacher, employee, friend.  It seems that so often, we forget that people need to be valued, not just by words, but by deeds.  Someone can say, "I value you," but if those words aren't followed by actions, they fall flat and mean nothing.

Jobs are the worst at this, mostly because we exist in a replaceable society.  I heard myself saying to a manager at my retail job last week that I knew "I was replaceable."  Theoretically, yes, this is true-we are all replaceable.  But when I think back to when I managed people, I could replace them, but not with the same exact skills or strengths or personal qualities.  Every time someone new was brought in, there was a learning curve, a transition period for all of us.  While the skills would eventually get there (in most cases), the personality will always be different.  Sometimes this can be a good thing, but sometimes not.  And when we exist in a work environment that makes it known that you are replaceable, it shows little value to the work you are doing.

This same job has been "cleaning house" recently.  We're all feeling a bit edgy and no one is truly happy to be there.  While perhaps this house cleaning was necessary, it has lowered morale beyond manageable proportions.  When asked what could be done to improve the morale, materialistic things were offered. and while these are nice, they still don't truly reflect a value in a staff.

I also have been feeling less than valued in my personal life.  I take great pride in attempting to be a good friend.  I feel very strongly that women need to make time for their friends, no matter what life throws their way.  Many of my friends don't feel this way.  I'm working 70 hours in a week, yet I still attempt to write out a quick card of encouragement, send a short text to let someone know I am thinking about them, or pick up the phone to leave a short "miss you" message.  I sleep for five hours a night if I'm lucky, but I will still jump on Fac.e.book to check in on friends or say hello to someone.  Relationships of all sorts take time, even when you're tired or overwhelmed.

Certainly, motherhood is a lesson in feeling under-valued, but here, the wet, sloppy kisses or being called to in the middle of the night after a nightmare makes it all worthwhile.

So, I've decided in an effort to make others feel valued, I am going to show even more than normal how I value  my friends, family, and co-workers.  How?  Here's a few things I'm going to do:

1.  Let my co-workers "overhear" me saying good things about them. 

2.  I'll pass along compliments instead of negative comments.

3.  I will call a friend with whom I haven't spoken in a while-the human voice can be a wonderful sound to hear instead of the typing of text messages/instant messaging.

4.  I will help out a friend without being asked.

5.  I will look for ways to praise people.

6.  I will pray for all those I encounter in my day.

7.  I will send cards of encouragement to those who need it and some who don't.

8.  I will make more of an effort to bring friends together.

9.  Make sure my smile reaches my eyes.

Do you feel valued?  How do you show to others that you value them?

6 Days, 35 Hours

Today I end the sixth day of work streak.  As of 7 PM this evening, I will have worked 35 hours.  While this is normal to most Americans (and a little more), what makes this quite unique is the fact that these 35 hours are in addition to my two other jobs.  So, technically speaking, this actually is the last of 75 hours I will have worked in the last 6 days.  To say that I am exhausted wouldn't even touch how I truly feel.  Because besides the sheer physical exhaustion, I am overwhelmed by everything else that is affected by this schedule. 

My heart aches each time I have to tell Builder Boy that I have to go to work and he breaks down-sometimes in tears, but more often in anger, his emotion of choice, followed by his taking his anger out of me. 

My body aches from standing on legs that are too out of shape to stand for five hours straight and from the lack of sleep I've had for the past, oh, six years. 

My house aches as it waits for some long overdue attention...organization projects halted midway through, toys that need purging, clothes that need laundering, floors that need scrubbing, walls that need washing, wood that needs polishing. 

My soul aches for all of the above and the toll it takes on me.  I have aged quite a bit of the past couple of years.  My face is showing the feelings of weariness and exhaustion.  I am soft in the middle.  The wrinkles on my face are more pronounced.  A "natural makeup" look just doesn't cut it anymore.  I long for some time to myself without the worries of bills, or a dirty house, or food the needs to be cooked, or family that needs tending to.  I ache for time to scrapbook, to tell Builder Boy's story, without feeling guilty for not working or cleaning or cooking. 

Worst of all?  I ache for the time away from my growing son, who at five cannot understand that I have to do this.  I ache for all the baby years I spent too stressed and occupied.  I ache for the preschool time when we should have played instead of watching television because I was too tired to do anything else.  I ache for all the fast food he has consumed (and his addiction to the toys) because I didn't have time to cook the way I like.  I ache for all the missed moments as I headed off to job one, two, or three.  And yes, I know he knows he's loved and provided for.  I do the best I can for him.  He's lucky to have such a great daddy and wonderful grandparents (on both sides), cousins who adore him, and aunts and uncles who would move mountains for him.  But I want to be there more and in better form.

So, today, I am just tired.  I will be glad when my shift is done tonight.  While I still have to get up at five tomorrow morning to go to the first job, at least it will be knowing that I have the evening to spend with Builder Boy.  This is what will get me through. 

This Funk Is A Punk!

For the past two months, I have been in a funk.  This is not unusual.  It is the long stretch of post-Christmas, pre-Spring in Western Pennsylvania.  The days are short, the weather is crappy, and the sun is rarely seen.  We have had record snow in the month of February.  I am battling laryngitis and a cold.  Our house is cold (our windows are original to the house-130 years old original) and the only thing I seem capable of accomplishing nightly is to sit on the couch under my heated throw with the computer on my lap and the television on.  I then go to bed feeling guilty and exhausted and like a big, pathetic sack of poo.  (How's that for eloquence?)

I'm not alone, though.  I have had many friends tell me they are in the same funk.  I guess it's good to know you're not alone in this, but I've been struggling for ways to climb out of it.  It's not a depression type funk, either.  I'm happy, just lazy.  So lazy.  Some nights, I can't even make myself go into the cold kitchen (a large narrow room, with only one radiator in one half of the room) to clean up after dinner.  It's gross, my friends, just gross.  But like every funk I've ever experienced, there comes a moment when you're just tired of being lazy and funky.  Sunday was the day.

Thankfully, I had to get out of bed before anyone else and head off to T.ar.get because I had inside info that they were going to have some W.i.i's in stock that morning.  (Builder Boy's birthday gift) I did some other needed shopping and was home by 9:30.  We went out for a yummy breakfast and were home by 11.  Usually, we're not even out the door by this time!  So we made the most of the long day we had.  No work, no commitments, just being together as a family.  We played a bit, watched silly cat videos on You Tube (which, by the way, makes Builder Boy cackle with laughter!), and finally cleaned.  We cleaned two rooms thoroughly and one room partially.  It felt great.  It is invigorating to "get something off your plate" that is hanging over you.  It was just the act of getting off the couch that helped melt away this frozen funk I have been in. 

Today, I am continuing on in the same way...determined to make something of the time when Builder Boy is in school, I have already in 45 minutes, vacuumed the entire downstairs, checked work email, graded 1 1/2 long school papers, made a delicious pot of tea, messaged with an out-of-town friend, and wrote this post.  I know I can't keep up this momentum all the time, but you better believe that I am going to enjoy it while it lasts!  Now, to finish 15 1/2 papers before preschool pick up time...

Happy Monday, everyone!

Nothing Textbook About It

Early on as a new mother, I felt that my kid was harder to parent than other kids.  I would share my woes with other new moms, and while they seemed to appreciate my struggles, they never shared simliar experiences.  Or the experiences they did share just didn't seem as bad.  And while sometimes, I can be pretty self-consumed and can't see things as they truly are, my child did seem more difficult than other kids.

As Builder Boy got older, the struggles got harder.  Being able to converse, even early on with just one or two syllables, brought new complexities to managing his behaviors.  I would talk to friends and practically beg them for answers, ways that would transform our home into a peaceful and joyful place.  Friends would give suggestions, ways that worked with their kids, that their doctors had told them, things they read in books and magazines...I would listen to them all and murmur thanks, but deep inside, I knew they wouldn't work.  Sometimes, I would try their ideas and they would fail miserably.  If I would tell them that things hadn't worked, I would instantly hear the message, "You have to be consistent!"  If I told them I didn't want to try because I knew it wouldn't work, friends would act like I didn't want to put the effort in.  All along, I kept saying, "But he's not textbook.  He never fits into that textbook mold."  And he didn't.  And he doesn't. Textbook answers didn't fit this unique and challenging little boy.

About a year ago, we took Builder Boy to see a pyschologist.  He just wasn't a happy child.  He tended towards moody and crabby instead of giggly and joyful.  We were worried that something was wrong and we wanted to be pro-active if it was something.  After three visits, the diagnosis was shyness and anxiety caused by the shyness.  The treatment?  A rewards chart. 

Like every other time that we have tried a rewards chart, it failed.  Builder Boy had little interest in it.  After a couple of weeks, we all forgot about it.  So there we were, back to square one.  Around this time, my father had his two massive strokes and the following months became about him and helping my mom out. 

We thought all was well with Builder Boy and we could manage his behavior, but we were living in denial.  He just wasn't "normal."  His moods, his reactions, his general disposition were all so extreme.  So after a long summer, we had him tested for autism.  I expected the diagnosis to come to me something like this, "Blah blah blah (insert psycho babble here)...He is autistic..." OR "blah blah blah (insert psycho babble here) He is NOT autistic."  We all kind of felt that he wasn't, or if he was, it was very high functioning autism and therefore would be easier to manage.  Instead, we received a report from the psychologist stating that he might have autism, he might not (they still needed to rule it out), but he did have a disorder known as Oppositional Defiant Disorder, or ODD. 

HUH?

So we embarked on a new journey of researching, and reading, and talking with friends and family, to try and figure out if A.  We understood this disorder, B. we bought into this as a disorder (because truly, we're ALL oppositionally defiant on any given day!), and C. we thought Builder Boy actually had this disorder.  This journey is still in its early stages.  I do understand the disorder for the most part, I believe that Builder Boy does exhibit signs of it, and I guess it is an actual disorder. 

I am angry.  I am ticked.  The more I read, the more angry and pissed I become.  Heck, the more oppositional I become, I guess.  Our insurance does not cover the treatment/therapy, so I have to go through our county services, which is its own angry post. 

I have been writing this post for months now and just can't seem to make it want I want.  So, I'm posting it now with the understanding that I will write much more on this.  I have so  much to say and I can't keep it in anymore.  I know this is not life-threatening, I know that we can make it through this, and I know we are so blessed to have this be our problem when so many people deal with so much more, but I am still angry.  We have suffered through our infertility and now this?  We struggle on so many levels, and now we're going to add this?  Can I catch a freaking break already?

So, thank you for your kind words and supportive thoughts on this post and the posts to come.  I thank you for understanding that I need to write about all of it to work through it even if I sometimes sound like a horrible mother.  I'm not going for popularity with these posts-I'm going for catharsis. It might not be pretty, but it will be out there and I will be dealing with it. 

So there it is...the next part of this giant black cloud that follows me around.