RenovationGirl

Present and Accounted For

Hi there. Here I am! A horribly bad blogger. A horribly overwhelmed human being. A horrible person who at this very moment in time should be doing 10 other things, but I figured I'd better get something up here or I'd lose all of my readers (all five of you!). Since eloquence has gone out the window only to be replaced with incoherence and exhaustion, I will leave you snippets of my life right now.

The reasons I am a bad blogger:

1. Last year, I had 44 students at one job and 23 students at my other job. This year, I have 87 students at one job and 115 at my other job. Um, yeah....

2. Builder Boy is in first grade...it's going to kill me.

3. We have at least 7 projects going on at the moment...all need to be finished and there is only one Remodel Man and no money or time.

4. I took a good look at our finances the other day. If you're me, I don't recommend doing this.

5. I have a new boss at my job...this person does not have any education experience. It's comical, and sad, and a very public situation.

6. I am begging for technology for my classroom...and by technology, I mean an overhead projector that works. Hello, 1978! (I'd love a VHS that works, too, but really, that would be way to 1985 for us!)

7. My brain is mush.

8. I realized the other day that if I died tomorrow, I would die unhappy, and that would make me even unhappier. (Yea, I get it, I'd be dead and all, but you know what I mean.).

9. My prayers have gone from asking for help and guidance to downright begging. I'm thinking the Lord thinks I'm kind of pathetic.

10. Pregnant women and babies are all around me...I'm doing mostly well with it. Mostly. Well, sort of okay. Okay, let's just say that all those years of acting are an immense help to me right now.

11. I am gaining weight. I'm flabbergasted by this. Yet, I won't stop eating.

I cannot tell you how many times I have opened up my Compose Post page, filled with words and thoughts and ideas, only to close in back up in fear. Fear of what? No idea, but I close up once I actually commit to writing. I think it's partly because I've said it all before...there's no new ideas in there. I live the same day, month, year, over and over again, and frankly put, it's depressing. So very many of my blog friends are joyful where they are in their lives and I don't want to rain on their parade. So I don't write. And yet I want to. But I don't. ARRRRGHH!!!

I'm still here and hoping that this post will open the floodgates. That I will make time to write. But this school year is kicking my butt, so all I can promise is that I'll do my best.

Back At It

Tomorrow is the first official day of school for where I work.  No big deal....this will be the twelfth year I head into the classroom. I have done this twelve times before.  I am not at all prepared...not my classroom, not my lessons, not my photocopies.  Nothing.  But I am a veteran teacher with years of experience, lots of skill, and a calling to teach, so I will manage. The teaching part, that's easy.

The being in the school again, well, that's been kind of rough. 

As I sat around last week at our in service sessions, it occured to me that when I had been here last,  I was pregnant.  Inside of me a life was struggling to grow.  As I moved around the building, I took care to remember this little life inside of me, so desperately wanted, but destined to leave us.  As I cleaned up my classroom, I thought, "This time next year, you'll be in my arms."  And I thought I was cleaning up the room for the last time ever.

The remembrance of this fact, the fact that I had been pregnant when I was last at work hit me kind of hard.  I found it hard to listen to how fabulous everyone's summer breaks had been.  How relaxing!  How fun!  How joyous!  I thought of all the doctors appointments, the surgery I went to and managed alone that took my fourth child from me, of my aunt's cancer treatments and my own breast cancer scare, my chest pains and anxiety, my impatience with Builder Boy, and all the hours lost between appointments-and I was angry.  All of a sudden, out of the blue, it all hit me all over again. I lost my baby.  I lost four babies.  How did this become my life?

I'm not sure why the work environment brought it all back, but it did.  It's not a constant feeling, but just a nagging sensation of something being off.  Tomorrow will come, and I will face the day with purpose and fortitude because I have to.  These feelings will wear off like they have at home, in the car, or when telling others about our struggles, but that won't stop that nagging sensation of the swelling belly I would be sporting now or the new maternity clothes that would be working their way into my wardrobe.  Perhaps once I make it through the nine months that would have been, I can shake off this feeling of missing something. Until then, did I leave the oven on?  No?  Hmmm...did I forget to lock the door?  No? 

Oh yeah, that's right, I lost my baby. 

 

 

A Prize For My Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday.  I turned 38.  I've never been a "look at me" kind of girl on my birthday.  Because of that, my birthdays have been rather tame in that lame kind of way and that was okay with me. This year, though, it was totally different.

While I have no idea why the difference occurred, it turned out to be a good thing.  It seems that turning 38 was a little bit harder than I thought.  37 is your mid-30’s; 38 begins the slow march to 40: I am officially in my late 30’s.  I’ve always said that age is just a number and I still believe that.  I also believe that you can’t spend the time given to you depressed about your age.  As my husband alway says, “the alternative isn’t much better.”  So I have always embraced my age and never shied away from it.  This year, I do that, too, but’ it’s been a bit more dificult to swallow than usual. 

Being shy, attention has never been something I have sought out.  If anything, I have always run in the opposite direction. This year for my birthday proved to be a time of attention and celebration.  The birthday part of my day began with a giant hug from a great friend at work and a package of chocolate-covered pretzels. 
Twenty minutes later, I received a serenade from 20 underclassmen in the middle of the hallway, loudly and full of hugs and high-fives.  Shortly after that, during the change of classes, a group of seniors came in to wish me (again, very loudly!) a happy birthday and improvised a shortened Happy Birthday song.  During my lunch duty, a group of senior boys who looked like they were up to something (and they usually are!) started the entire cafeteria of 90+ kids singing Happy Birthday to me and presented me with two cookies, one with an "H" and the other with a "B" for Happy Birthday because they couldn't find a candles (we're good at our school about not allowing the students to play with fire...).  I turned every shade of red imaginable to the delight of the entire lunch.  After my face turned to its normal and lovely shade of pale white, I went to eat my own lunch with friends to find a yummy chocolate fudge cake and a bouquet of flowers waiting for me with lots of hugs and song.  Text messages had my phone bleeping all day and my email inbox was filled with Fa.cebook well wishes.

Upon arriving to pick up Builder Boy at school, his first words to me were, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAMA! I love you!!" and I was given a huge bear hug and sloppy kisses.  He talked all the way home about my presents he couldn't wait to give me and promptly made me a beautiful card to go with the store-bought one he already had.  He waited patiently (not really) for Remodel Man to come home so he could give me his presents-a Sock Monkey and Sock Monkey slippers (I love Sock Monkeys!!!) in a Sock Monkey bag.  He told me about my present from Remodel Man (an iPhone!!!) and we headed to a wonderful dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants. We finished the evening by stopping at nearby bakery  for some amazing sweets.

It was an abundant day.  I felt celebrated. I felt joy-filled.  I felt loved. I felt full.  THIS is what birthdays should feel like.  THIS is why people dread birthdays, because they don't get treated like this on their special day.  People went out of their ways to make me feel so appreciated and it affirmed to me the importance of going out of MY way to make people feel the same way. No more late gifts in the mail-I will get to the post office in time (I huge issue of mine!).  No more fast texts and Fac.ebook posts because the card I bought (or didn't) wasn't going to get to the person in time.  No more excuses.  People deserve to be celebrated! 

Right before going to sleep, I listened to a voice mail message from my goddaughter and her mom, PorscheNut, singing Happy Birthday to me.  "Happy Birthday, Aunt RenovationGirl!" said PorschePeanut,"This is a prize for your birthday!"  You bet it is, baby girl!  I went to sleep with a smiling heart. 

It's Just Really Hard

The title says it all...this whole working full-time, working two part-time jobs, raising an energetic, intelligent, and challenging little boy, attempting to take care of a house constantly under construction, doing laundry, planning/shopping for/preparing meals, and trying to have a life is really hard.  It sounds whiny, doesn't it?  I feel like a child stamping her foot out of an immature frustration.  Of course, I'm not surprised that it's hard-I'm just surprised by how incredibly hard it is. 

I guess I'm not a good time manager, but I'm finding that I just can't get the house clean or laundry folded or meals prepared each week.  One thing may get done, but not all that needs to get done.  Not even close.  This past weekend, Saturday was a family day and date night.  We spent the amazingly clear and hot day picking pumpkins and navigating corn mazes and slinging apples into a lake.  Saturday night, Builder Boy headed to the grandparents while Remodel Man and I had a yummy dinner, a favorite place from our early married days, and went to hear an awesome band.  The day was lovely, it truly was, but it left me stressed and anxious.  I worked on Sunday so my weekend was done. Sigh. How to get anything done?

During the week, my time is even more constrained.  After picking Builder Boy up from school, we head home, changes clothes, and grab a snack.  Builder Boy usually watches a tv show and then we play or read.  Soon after that, it's time to make dinner, eat dinner, and clean up dinner.  That leaves at most an hour before the bedtime routine begins.  We've been having Wii bowling marathons and we try to master our Wii Jedi skills (okay, I just watch on this one!) so we can spend some family time together.  After Builder Boy is in bed, usually around 8:15 if we're lucky, it's time to make lunches, get the coffee ready for the next day, and set out clothes, bags, etc. for the upcoming school day.  At this point, I'm exhausted. I should go to bed, but there's work to be done.  I fall into bed between 11:00 and midnight.  It begins again the next day...I'm living Groundhog's Day!  Add to that the occasional shift at my part-time retail job and the daily checking of my on-line students. 

I just can't figure out how to fit in all that needs to be done.

And I won't lie...I heavily envy those who get to stay home.  I recognize how difficult it is and have profound respect for those who do it, but I'm so incredibly jealous.  Jealous that some days, she can get up, throw on her sweats and drive her child to school, only to go home and enjoy a cup of coffee, the daily newspaper, and a long, hot shower.  Me?  The alarm goes off at 4:49 AM (don't worry, I hit snooze a zillion and one times!), I take the world's fastest shower, usually only shaving what is absolutely necessary to shave, frantically racing around getting dressed and made up, grabbing the coffee, a protein bar, and heading out the door.  And it's really hard. 

On the positive side, though, financially we are finally making all of our bills.  We're still not paying anything down, but at least we're not falling farther behind.  I'm enjoying teaching this year more than I have in the past few years.  And I'm heading to a professional conference in Disney World (woohoo!!!) in a month paid for by my school.  These are all wonderful, positive things.

So if you are a full-time working outside the home mom (and I can't even begin to tell you how very much I have always hated having to differentiate between the SAHM and the WAHM!!), I'd love your tips on how you manage your time.  I'm not asking, I'm begging, because I'm drowning in it all right now. 

HELP!!!!!  :)

Um, Hi?

It's summer...I'm a teacher...I should be reveling in free time and pool time and play time.  Yep, that's what I should be doing...alas, I am teaching summer school (online, but soooo much work!!) and working my retail job and trying at least for a few minutes a day, to purge and clean (um, well, so, okay, I've been working on one closet for the past week...I know, I know, this is going to take awhile at this pace!) and of course, to be a good Mama.(Seriously that last one is the hardest!!!)

I wanted to write a bit this summer...not just on this blog, but on some other ideas swirling around in my head, but all my computer time is work time and when I'm done with that, I'm done sitting at the computer (did I mention that my laptop's hard drive crashed on vacation?  Now I'm stuck on the desktop, chained to the most uncomfortable place to sit and type for any time longer than 5 minutes).  Hopefully when I get in the summer groove (argh, it's halfway over and I still can't find that stupid groove...), I will be posting something of substance.  For now, though, here are some things brewing:

1.  Builder Boy and I are doing "Mama school" this summer.  It's funny to see what he thinks is "school" and what I think is "school."  You'll be surprised-since I'm a creative teacher, he sometimes thinks my creative projects aren't school at all.  :) My secret plan is working! 

2.  I decided to find out the sex of our baby from the most recent miscarriage.  I put on my big girl panties, called the RE and...he hasn't called back.  It's been two weeks.  No idea where he is, and now I'm scared I've lost my confidence in finding out.

3.  Similarly, assuming my RE hasn't run off to some remote island never to return, I would like to schedule my surgery for the second week of August.  I wish he would call back...I am also losing my courage to do this surgery...

4.  Over the past two days, Remodel Man has made more progress on our house than he has in months.  This makes him feel good and gives him increased motivation.  This makes me over the moon...I love some good progress!  Pictures to come if any one project is completely finished.

5.  I have been questioning my blog existence.  I have not been a good blog reader or commenter, and this is reflected in my own readers and commenters. I sometimes feel like I'm in middle school at the not-quite-nerds-but-definitely-not-a-popular-kid table.  I don't seem to fit in anywhere...

6.  Deconstructor Cat has been sick and this stresses me out.  He is the champ of hurling a pill from the back of his throat, two feet into the air.  While this is incredibly frustrating, it is quite amazing to see. 

Welcome to my stream of consciousness...OH, and if you see my RE somewhere, will you please tell him to call me back????

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!

Recognizing Your Own Limitations

Over the weekend I went to see our high school's annual musical production.  I won't lie that I really didn't want to go.  I wanted to support the kids and the arts at our school, but I don't live close, I had to work most of the weekend, and let's face it, high school musicals oftentimes can make you want to hurl yourself from a tall building.  I know this because I directed high school musicals years ago.  Regardless of my own resistance, I had the tickets, wanted to see the kids, so off we went.

I count myself as rather snobby when it comes to theatre.  With a degree in it and some experience, I know what's good, what's bad, and what's just plain comical.  I'm not your average audience member and I am a harsh critic.  When I directed, I was tough on the kids.  I wanted them to perform professionally, so I  never allowed all the silly dalliances of most high school shows...pranks on closing night, goofing around backstage, etc.  When I performed what little theatre I have done in recent years, I expected the same of myself.  I spent time developing character, working on character relationships, and finding my motivation.  I didn't goof around while waiting for my entrance.  I took it seriously.  People were, after all, paying to see the show, they deserved a good experience.

So, with all this in my mind, we sat back to watch.  Almost immediately, there transformed in front of me were my students...those scraggly, awkward, and self-conscious kids convincing me that they were adults.  Their characters came to life and besides a few obvious mannerisms, I forgot they were 15 and 16.  I forgot how annoying their homework excuses could be, or how they insisted upon not raising their hands in class, or how they failed a most recent test.  And I was shocked.  They were wonderful, simply wonderful.  I could not have been more proud of them and their hard work.

Yet, as we left the theatre, I couldn't help but feel an intense sadness because I knew that no matter what I did in the years I directed, I could never have gotten out of these students what their current director did.  I faced my owned limitations in their one wonderful production.  Sure, I can find all the excuses in the world...the program was in its infancy, we had no support, no budget, no help.  The talent pool was limited and we were all figuring out the process as we went, but still, deep down I know that there it is in front of me.  I wasn't capable of it. 

That's okay.  We all have our limitations.  In some ways, I count myself lucky to be able to recognize them.  I know where the weaknesses are and I know there is work to be done if I ever would get involved again.  But still, I feel a sense of sadness that I couldn't give my casts more than I did.  And it's hard to face up to the things that you are not exceptional at doing.  Yet, as Helen Keller said, "The marvelous richness of human experience would lose something of rewarding joy if there were no limitations to overcome."

2009: The Year that Was (and Thank God for that!)

I hate New Year's Eve.  I think it's a holiday where we put far too much pressure on ourselves...whether that pressure is about planning and executing the perfect celebration or reflecting on the past year or creating resolutions for the coming year, it's just a lot of unnecessary pressure. This year, though, I was glad to see New Year's Eve come.  To put it simply, 2009 sucked and I couldn't wait until it hit 12:00 AM on January 1, 2010.

2009 started for me fast and furious.  At 8:30 AM on January 1, 2009, my father suffered his second massive stroke within seven days, just a mere 24 hours after coming home from the hospital.  The first two months of 2009 were filled with anxiety, exhaustion, fear, and frustration.  I cooked for two families, one of whom lives 45 minutes away and was on a low fat, low sodium, low sugar diet.  I worked three jobs.  I mothered my son and my parents.  My goddaughter, Porsche Peanut, was diagnosed with Chiari Type 1, a brain malformation, after there was some talk about a brain tumor.  Yea, 2009 started out with an exhausting bang!

In March, my sister found out she would have to have abdominal surgery to remove a fibroid for the second time.  This time, the fibroid had grown through the uterus.  She had the surgery in early April and was out of work for six weeks recovering from the massive surgery.  The surgery was tough and the recovery was slow.  My sister is terrified of all things medical, so we had the emotional element to deal with as well.  My mother informed me that we were done with hospitals for the year. 

But as my mother said this, I had already found out I was pregnant again after the prior October's miscarriage.  I was so excited to tell her that the next time we would be in the hospital would be to celebrate a new life.  Ha!  I was seeing the same doctor who performed my sister's surgery.  He was sworn to secrecy until he confirmed that this  one would stick. Shortly after my sister's surgery, after three long weeks of blood tests and ultrasounds, I was diagnosed with a complete molar pregnancy, had my D & C, and began eight months of weekly then monthly blood tests to monitor for GTN, gestastional trophoblastic neoplasia, abnormal cells caused by the molar pregnancy that spread act like cancer.

In May, I took on a fourth job to focus on paying down our ridiculous infertility debt, working sometimes 80 hours a week. A month and a half later, in July, I lost my one teaching job-while this was partly a blessing (I was now down to 60 hours a week), it also meant that the "extra" job I took to pay down the debt became a necessary income.  There was nothing "extra" about it. Financially, we were right back where we started. 

In August, after months of anxiety attacks, I finally went to see the doctor for some drugs.  Test results showed that it was more than anxiety causing my racing heart-it was a heart murmur.  After a battery of tests, tests, and more tests, I started on blood pressure medication to control my symptoms. 

The following months, I spiraled into a depression, one that I had been flirting with for awhile, but finally succumbed to.  With too many responsibilities and not enough hours in the day, I was not able to take care of me and the outcome was telling.  I have aged this past year and look my age now.  While nothing detrimental happened, I did lose my joy,and that's never good.

In November, my father in law ended up in the hospital after a series of falls.  He spent two weeks there while they tried to control and out of control infection.  My mother in law was tired and spent after years of taking care of him.  I watched my husband wear down from worry and my sisters in law take on burden that took them to the breaking point.  Around this same time, we had Builder Boy evaluated for autism and while that came back inconclusive, he was diagnosed with Oppositional Defiant Disorder.  We have yet to determine how to proceed with the diagnosis.

December found me in Disney, sick, but somehow feeling as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel.  My father is still with us and has very little residual complications from his strokes.  My sister is fine post-surgery.  I am done with the blood tests after the molar pregnancy.  My depression has lifted somewhat.  My heart is fine and monitored.  We are still financially struggling, but working on making changes to that.  We are also working on our house, finishing outstanding projects, de-cluttering, and trying to be better parents. 

So, 2009, you did really, really suck, but you know what?  You're over.  We're on to 2010.  And I think it will be a much better year.  Oh, gosh, I hope so!!!! 

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...