I had a bad dream last night. My mom died. I woke up this morning wondering if that was just the overload of my mind spewing into my dreams because it had nowhere else to go. Yesterday was emotional. Seven hours in a car with three kids will do that to you. I ride so many emotional roller coasters as a mom. Sometimes I wonder if my blogs could possibly make people not want to have kids. That would be so awful. But seriously, I wonder that. Then I realize, "Okay, Erica. Stop fooling yourself. Not that many people are out there reading your blog." Then I calm down.
What I have to say at this moment is that I am in awe of mothers who take care of children with disabilities, handicaps, autism, disease, illness, cancer. It is SO hard to take care of perfectly healthy, beautiful, wonderful children. Because in their perfect beauty (seriously, I look at Izzy's face and think she could not be more perfect), they cry. They scream. They teethe. Between my, "Julian is so cute. I want to eat that face!" there are "I am throwing him in the trash can!" moments. And as for Adrienne, my angel. She kicks. She says hurtful things. She is a slow potty trainer. She drives Julian up the wall. She gets cranky.
I love my kids so much. I would die. I can't express the emotions that come to me when I think about how precious they are in my life. It brings me to tears because I know people who have children who have any number of problems. And I know I am so blessed. So, so, so blessed.
What a hard job this is, motherhood.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Stupid people
There was this girl, Missy234, or something of that nature, in college. I was a junior. She was emailing me all of the time these awful, angry, bitter, hateful messages. Funny thing: I had no idea who she was or why she hated me so much.
It wasn't until tonight that I have been so pissed at someone who did something awful specifically to me. Britney Murdock. Of course, I'm sure that's not her name. I am VERY mad at her.
Back in September, this girl, Britney, came to my door. At the time, I thought she was cute, maybe in her early 20's or late teens. Perky little thing that told me my kids were so cute and I was so skinny for just having a baby. I really liked her then. But now that I recall that day, her teeth were pretty messed up and she had a very sloppy way of speaking, and I think she smelled funny. Or was hunchback. Or something.
Oh, Britney. Britney sat in my kitchen for quite sometime explaining her magazine sales to me. She talked about points and a trip and a competition - none of which I cared about at the time. But I kind of listened. And, thinking back on that day in September, I remember having an iffy feeling about the whole thing. Not an iffy "I feel stupid now so I'll pretend I knew then" feeling, but an iffy "I'm just not sure about this girl, something doesn't add up" feeling. I asked her SO many questions, just trying to figure out what she was doing. I wonder if she was nervous, or exhilarated, or just was going through the motions of her act.
I sat with Britney, mulling over which magazine I wanted to order, even though at the time, we couldn't afford any of them. I remember thinking how expensive I thought they were. As I was deciding not to get one, I text BJ to see if he wants anything. I talk to him on the phone. Britney is sitting there the whole time.
So I see this one for the kids. Britney tells me this one is great because it comes in a big box and it has activities for the kids and they will love it. She tells me that she is the oldest of 12 kids. I actually asked her to name them all, I remember. She did in a kind of slow manner, but whatever. What do you do, say, "Um, I think you are lying about that?" Whatever. I don't know. I guess I just grew up with manners and decency and trust and honesty. Those things mean nothing.
So after much ado, I order this magazine for the kids, 12 issues with a little activity in every one for $48.00. I cut her the check, tell her we may be moving and she says, "Just call the number on the receipt and they will forward it to the right address."
Three months later (tonight), I find the receipt. No phone number. At this point, I am very skeptical because I have not received anything in the mail, and there is no number on the receipt. I enter the address in Google. Lo and behold, what comes up, Ripoff Report.
So, I got over the $48.00. I waste that in a matter of two weeks here and there. I just can't get over Britney, and people like her. How a person can come into your home, lie straight to your face, and rip you off? Okay, and the worst part about it, it was for my kids. That girl sat in my house for 20 minutes while I stewed about which magazine to get, listened to me talk about how excited I was to get the activities. She talked to my kids, chatted with me, sat on my stool! She's awful. The people running the stupid thing are awful. And I am personally pissed at Britney.
It wasn't until tonight that I have been so pissed at someone who did something awful specifically to me. Britney Murdock. Of course, I'm sure that's not her name. I am VERY mad at her.
Back in September, this girl, Britney, came to my door. At the time, I thought she was cute, maybe in her early 20's or late teens. Perky little thing that told me my kids were so cute and I was so skinny for just having a baby. I really liked her then. But now that I recall that day, her teeth were pretty messed up and she had a very sloppy way of speaking, and I think she smelled funny. Or was hunchback. Or something.
Oh, Britney. Britney sat in my kitchen for quite sometime explaining her magazine sales to me. She talked about points and a trip and a competition - none of which I cared about at the time. But I kind of listened. And, thinking back on that day in September, I remember having an iffy feeling about the whole thing. Not an iffy "I feel stupid now so I'll pretend I knew then" feeling, but an iffy "I'm just not sure about this girl, something doesn't add up" feeling. I asked her SO many questions, just trying to figure out what she was doing. I wonder if she was nervous, or exhilarated, or just was going through the motions of her act.
I sat with Britney, mulling over which magazine I wanted to order, even though at the time, we couldn't afford any of them. I remember thinking how expensive I thought they were. As I was deciding not to get one, I text BJ to see if he wants anything. I talk to him on the phone. Britney is sitting there the whole time.
So I see this one for the kids. Britney tells me this one is great because it comes in a big box and it has activities for the kids and they will love it. She tells me that she is the oldest of 12 kids. I actually asked her to name them all, I remember. She did in a kind of slow manner, but whatever. What do you do, say, "Um, I think you are lying about that?" Whatever. I don't know. I guess I just grew up with manners and decency and trust and honesty. Those things mean nothing.
So after much ado, I order this magazine for the kids, 12 issues with a little activity in every one for $48.00. I cut her the check, tell her we may be moving and she says, "Just call the number on the receipt and they will forward it to the right address."
Three months later (tonight), I find the receipt. No phone number. At this point, I am very skeptical because I have not received anything in the mail, and there is no number on the receipt. I enter the address in Google. Lo and behold, what comes up, Ripoff Report.
So, I got over the $48.00. I waste that in a matter of two weeks here and there. I just can't get over Britney, and people like her. How a person can come into your home, lie straight to your face, and rip you off? Okay, and the worst part about it, it was for my kids. That girl sat in my house for 20 minutes while I stewed about which magazine to get, listened to me talk about how excited I was to get the activities. She talked to my kids, chatted with me, sat on my stool! She's awful. The people running the stupid thing are awful. And I am personally pissed at Britney.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
It's quiet.
It's quiet here and I can hear the ticking of the clock. Nevermind, it's not quiet anymore. So much for that.
Monday, December 15, 2008
You know what? I'm here, today.
I used to be really bad about planning my future, meaning - I tried to do it. I wanted to map out the 'next five years' on a continual and ongoing basis so that I always knew what to expect. I think this is so true of many people in our lives as we finish college or find a significant other, or when both happen at the same time.
Once you become engaged, it's all about the wedding. So you plan that, for as long as that takes. In our case, we got engaged on January 17, 2002. We had dated just over a year. We had initially planned a May 17, 2003 wedding. I can barely remember that now. I initially didn't get placed for student teaching, so I graduated a semester later than I expected. We didn't want to be in college and married (I don't know why), so we pushed the wedding back to the following summer. July 2004. So planning began for that date. But after much frustration, more change of plans, and a sudden burst of a little thing called spontaneity, we decided to get married in December of 2003.
Once you're married, you have a little time to adjust to living together, for the eight of us in the world that didn't do that before we were married. Then everyone's asking you when you are starting your family. In our case, it didn't take too long. And it also didn't happen when I was planning for it to.
Then there is the house hunting. The ever exciting first home. I knew when I walked into our wonderful house that it was home. I knew when I walked in the door for the first time that this is a place where I could envision my children running around - which they certainly did for the next three years.
But back to the planning. I did it. Of course, God always laughed at me when I tried to plan out my life. That's why I've learned to stop doing it.
Five years ago, when I got married, I had it all planned out. I knew where I was going to work, how long. I knew when I was going to get pregnant. I knew where we would live and how things would go. And not only was I planning for these things, but I was also putting my happiness on hold until I had them.
The ever familiar, "Oh, when we get married, it will be so much better because..." or "I just can't wait to have a child, then we will really be a family." Or, "Once we get this house, then..." The list of "I'll be happy when"'s goes on. I was definitely living that life without knowing it.
It wasn't until a friend of mine, 10 years my senior, was telling me about the regrets in her young life. The precise thing I was doing, the planning my life, the I'll be happy when, is what she spoke of as her regret.
It was that moment for me, that talk with my friend, that allowed me to realize what I had been doing. Waiting for your life to start does not allow you to enjoy the day that you have. The only day that you know for certain.
So, present day, here I am in Indy. I'm living in a rental house until April, or a possibility to extend the lease. We have a home for sale/for rent in Muncie. I have had three children in three years. The most common questions I get about my life are, "Are you looking for a house?" and "Are you guys having any more kids?" As for the house, no. I'm not looking. It seems it would be exciting to house hunt, but right now, I have two houses. I don't want to look for another one. Not today. As for the children comment, I can honestly say, "I don't know." And the "If it's in God's plan," is a VERY nice comment because it takes all the pressure off of you! But seriously, I have always wanted at least four kids. Two boys and two girls. So people ask, "What if you have another girl?" So many questions that I am not prepared to answer. Two years ago, I would have told you the month that I was going to get pregnant with my fourth child. Today, I'm enjoying the day that I have, with the children that I have, and I'll worry about the rest of it when the day comes.
Once you become engaged, it's all about the wedding. So you plan that, for as long as that takes. In our case, we got engaged on January 17, 2002. We had dated just over a year. We had initially planned a May 17, 2003 wedding. I can barely remember that now. I initially didn't get placed for student teaching, so I graduated a semester later than I expected. We didn't want to be in college and married (I don't know why), so we pushed the wedding back to the following summer. July 2004. So planning began for that date. But after much frustration, more change of plans, and a sudden burst of a little thing called spontaneity, we decided to get married in December of 2003.
Once you're married, you have a little time to adjust to living together, for the eight of us in the world that didn't do that before we were married. Then everyone's asking you when you are starting your family. In our case, it didn't take too long. And it also didn't happen when I was planning for it to.
Then there is the house hunting. The ever exciting first home. I knew when I walked into our wonderful house that it was home. I knew when I walked in the door for the first time that this is a place where I could envision my children running around - which they certainly did for the next three years.
But back to the planning. I did it. Of course, God always laughed at me when I tried to plan out my life. That's why I've learned to stop doing it.
Five years ago, when I got married, I had it all planned out. I knew where I was going to work, how long. I knew when I was going to get pregnant. I knew where we would live and how things would go. And not only was I planning for these things, but I was also putting my happiness on hold until I had them.
The ever familiar, "Oh, when we get married, it will be so much better because..." or "I just can't wait to have a child, then we will really be a family." Or, "Once we get this house, then..." The list of "I'll be happy when"'s goes on. I was definitely living that life without knowing it.
It wasn't until a friend of mine, 10 years my senior, was telling me about the regrets in her young life. The precise thing I was doing, the planning my life, the I'll be happy when, is what she spoke of as her regret.
It was that moment for me, that talk with my friend, that allowed me to realize what I had been doing. Waiting for your life to start does not allow you to enjoy the day that you have. The only day that you know for certain.
So, present day, here I am in Indy. I'm living in a rental house until April, or a possibility to extend the lease. We have a home for sale/for rent in Muncie. I have had three children in three years. The most common questions I get about my life are, "Are you looking for a house?" and "Are you guys having any more kids?" As for the house, no. I'm not looking. It seems it would be exciting to house hunt, but right now, I have two houses. I don't want to look for another one. Not today. As for the children comment, I can honestly say, "I don't know." And the "If it's in God's plan," is a VERY nice comment because it takes all the pressure off of you! But seriously, I have always wanted at least four kids. Two boys and two girls. So people ask, "What if you have another girl?" So many questions that I am not prepared to answer. Two years ago, I would have told you the month that I was going to get pregnant with my fourth child. Today, I'm enjoying the day that I have, with the children that I have, and I'll worry about the rest of it when the day comes.
4:45 a.m.
So. Sometimes little Isa will wake up, fuss around, chat a little, and put herself back to sleep. At the old house, I may have been quicker to run and try to put a paci in her mouth before she woke her sister up. But I've learned that Adrienne is an exceptionally heavy sleeper. Her little sis can be chattin it up, and Adri sleeps right through it. (Although Adrienne is a clone of her father, she does have her mother's sleeping habits.)
Anyway, I hear Isa at about 4:30 this morning starting to chat. She doesn't sound too upset or too loud so I roll over in my own warm bed and see if she'll fall asleep on her own. At 4:45, after 15 minutes of continual chatting on her part, I decide to brave the cold, creaky hardwoods to see what's up. I creak into her room. There she is, happy as can be, sitting up in her crib. I look over at Adri to see if she's slept thru it. I see her in bed, then I see Julian sitting up next to her. Oh my goodness, it's a slumber party.
Luckily our house has sleeping arrangements to accommodate more people than we currently have. Adrienne sleeps in a queen bed and Isa in her crib in one room. Julian has a single bed and his own room. BJ and I have a queen bed and a pack and play in our room.
I scooped up Adri, which is becoming an increasingly difficult task - she'll be scooping me up next week, I swear. Anyway, she went into my bed with daddy and that's the end of the story for her. Good girl. Isabelle stayed in her crib. I took Julian back to his room and crawled into bed with him.
From 4:45 - 5:15: Isabelle fussed around a little more. I went from Julian's bed to her room to readminister paci and blankey a few times. Julian and I had tagteam coughing. We are both disgustingly sick with gross chunky coughs, snotty noses, a lot of the color green involved, etc. Julian got medicine, water, tissue, this is pointless. The kid is wide awake. At 5:15, another check on Isabelle and she was finally asleep.
5:29, I give up. Julian and I go downstairs. I turn on a show for him. The only reason I am awake, out of bed, and watching Lasytown right now is because I am completely banking on the fact that at about 8:00 a.m. this kid is going to crash, Adrienne will be up (up meaning, lying on the couch watching a show) and I will be able to catch a breath. The bad news about these crappy nights is that they usually produce crappy days. I mean, I won't be able to go anywhere in the morning because I am hoping someone will be asleep at that time. I won't be able to go out in the afternoon because I pray that they are all asleep at that time. It makes for a long, boring, frustrating day.
I mean, look at me now, it's 5:51 and I am wide angrily awake. Sick, frustrated, tired, defeated, blogging. Very happy to know that Christmas is coming so soon...
Anyway, I hear Isa at about 4:30 this morning starting to chat. She doesn't sound too upset or too loud so I roll over in my own warm bed and see if she'll fall asleep on her own. At 4:45, after 15 minutes of continual chatting on her part, I decide to brave the cold, creaky hardwoods to see what's up. I creak into her room. There she is, happy as can be, sitting up in her crib. I look over at Adri to see if she's slept thru it. I see her in bed, then I see Julian sitting up next to her. Oh my goodness, it's a slumber party.
Luckily our house has sleeping arrangements to accommodate more people than we currently have. Adrienne sleeps in a queen bed and Isa in her crib in one room. Julian has a single bed and his own room. BJ and I have a queen bed and a pack and play in our room.
I scooped up Adri, which is becoming an increasingly difficult task - she'll be scooping me up next week, I swear. Anyway, she went into my bed with daddy and that's the end of the story for her. Good girl. Isabelle stayed in her crib. I took Julian back to his room and crawled into bed with him.
From 4:45 - 5:15: Isabelle fussed around a little more. I went from Julian's bed to her room to readminister paci and blankey a few times. Julian and I had tagteam coughing. We are both disgustingly sick with gross chunky coughs, snotty noses, a lot of the color green involved, etc. Julian got medicine, water, tissue, this is pointless. The kid is wide awake. At 5:15, another check on Isabelle and she was finally asleep.
5:29, I give up. Julian and I go downstairs. I turn on a show for him. The only reason I am awake, out of bed, and watching Lasytown right now is because I am completely banking on the fact that at about 8:00 a.m. this kid is going to crash, Adrienne will be up (up meaning, lying on the couch watching a show) and I will be able to catch a breath. The bad news about these crappy nights is that they usually produce crappy days. I mean, I won't be able to go anywhere in the morning because I am hoping someone will be asleep at that time. I won't be able to go out in the afternoon because I pray that they are all asleep at that time. It makes for a long, boring, frustrating day.
I mean, look at me now, it's 5:51 and I am wide angrily awake. Sick, frustrated, tired, defeated, blogging. Very happy to know that Christmas is coming so soon...
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
The guilt
So, the guilt that I wrote about in the nap post is lingering. Here's how it goes. No matter what you do (I do, I'll speak for myself)...as a mother, I always feel that something could have been done better. Even, alas, in my blog posts I feel guilt. I always feel like I need to say, "Oh wait, but I do love my kids. I do love being a stay at home mom. I'm not crasy. I'm not a bad parent." Here's a blog to prove it!!
I love my kids! Let's face it, the "I'm going to lose my mind" blogs are fun to read. And they are true, and authentic, and written in the moment. And, they are therapeutic for me.
I would hope that of the handful of people who read this blog would know that I love my kids.
Okay. I love my kids. I love being a mom. I'm feeling better. Don't judge.
I love my kids! Let's face it, the "I'm going to lose my mind" blogs are fun to read. And they are true, and authentic, and written in the moment. And, they are therapeutic for me.
I would hope that of the handful of people who read this blog would know that I love my kids.
Okay. I love my kids. I love being a mom. I'm feeling better. Don't judge.
My nap
I RARELY nap at home during the day. The kids are actually good sleepers. They don't all three sleep at the same time every day, but sometimes they do. During that time, I will generally clean a little bit, and take some time for myself. It usually consists of a load of laundry, tidying up the house, watching tevoed Oprah, and playing on facebook. Just about the time when I start to relax, someone's crying.
I RARELY nap. Okay, I think I said that already. It's not that I'm not tired enough to, it's just that if I nap, one of the kids will wake me up from that nap, and I will be groggy, and feel unrested and that time was wasted. So. There will be a day every now and then, whether it be because of a long week, a long night, a combination of things, that I just feel like I need a nap. Here's the kicker. If my mind ever, ever thinks, "I'm going to take a nap today," I'm doomed. It's like my kids read my mind and decide to be bad.
Here's how my nap went today. We get home from running errands, I make a phone call to the church to cancel BJ's lectoring, Adri and Jupa start the war while I'm on the phone. Get off the phone. Angrily tell the kids to get upstairs and go to bed. Adrienne obediently goes and lays in bed and is asleep within five minutes. Julian goes to his room and screams. It was wonderful when Julian was still in a crib and couldn't get out. You could let a kid cry, you know. Then he started climbing out of his crib and I endured fits of insanity because he just wouldn't nap and we'd both pay for it later. Enter: New house is an old house with old door handles. Julian is, for the time being, stuck in his room until I open the door. I know eventually he will get the door open, his confidence restored and he will go back to being 100% ornery boy that he is. Okay, I'm digressing. My nap...where was I, oh yeah...So I change Isabelle's poopy diaper, wipe her snot, drool and lay her in her crib. This is all at 2:00, by the way. She fusses a bit but seems to be calm. I make a cup of tea for my sore throat and grab the book that my dear friend gave me to read. I put on comfy pants, snuggle under the covers in my bed and start reading. I read four pages, set the book down, take off my glasses, fluff the pillow and close my eyes. Julian is still talking but the crying has calmed.
Now, in the back of my mind, I know this nap isn't going to pan out because I actually thought about it in advance. But I gave it my best shot. 2:12. Oh my gosh, I think I'm actually falling asleep. Dreams begin to formulate, I'm starting to relax, 2:24, Isabelle is crying. I get up, try to put the paci in her mouth and she's not having it. On my way to her room, old house comes through for me and floors creak loud enough to wake the neighbors, who probably have no problem napping except for my exceptionally creaky floors, and Julian starts up again.
Now Isa and Julian feed off of each other's crying, they always have, so they are both screaming. Not fussing, but 'get me the hell out of this bed now,' kind of crying. In my desperation, I set up the pack and play in my room, put Isa in there and shut the door. I leave Julian in his room, but I can tell that he has gotten into his closet because there are thumps and thuds and loud scary noises coming from his room.
I leave my two screaming kids and crawl in bed with the angelic sleeping Adri, who doesn't budge, even though the sun is blasting through the windows on her face and her mom is in bed with her. I lay down. 2:30. I laid there and listened to them both scream for 10 minutes. During that ten minutes I become overcome with guilt that I am not taking care of my children, I'm being selfish, and other self-loathing thoughts. I'm also so upset, uptight, angry, frustrated, tired, guilty, whatever, that it's over.
I get Isabelle, I get Julian. We go downstairs. They are sitting and playing on the ground and I'm here blogging about my wonderful 12 minute nap.
Every mom should be so lucky.
I RARELY nap. Okay, I think I said that already. It's not that I'm not tired enough to, it's just that if I nap, one of the kids will wake me up from that nap, and I will be groggy, and feel unrested and that time was wasted. So. There will be a day every now and then, whether it be because of a long week, a long night, a combination of things, that I just feel like I need a nap. Here's the kicker. If my mind ever, ever thinks, "I'm going to take a nap today," I'm doomed. It's like my kids read my mind and decide to be bad.
Here's how my nap went today. We get home from running errands, I make a phone call to the church to cancel BJ's lectoring, Adri and Jupa start the war while I'm on the phone. Get off the phone. Angrily tell the kids to get upstairs and go to bed. Adrienne obediently goes and lays in bed and is asleep within five minutes. Julian goes to his room and screams. It was wonderful when Julian was still in a crib and couldn't get out. You could let a kid cry, you know. Then he started climbing out of his crib and I endured fits of insanity because he just wouldn't nap and we'd both pay for it later. Enter: New house is an old house with old door handles. Julian is, for the time being, stuck in his room until I open the door. I know eventually he will get the door open, his confidence restored and he will go back to being 100% ornery boy that he is. Okay, I'm digressing. My nap...where was I, oh yeah...So I change Isabelle's poopy diaper, wipe her snot, drool and lay her in her crib. This is all at 2:00, by the way. She fusses a bit but seems to be calm. I make a cup of tea for my sore throat and grab the book that my dear friend gave me to read. I put on comfy pants, snuggle under the covers in my bed and start reading. I read four pages, set the book down, take off my glasses, fluff the pillow and close my eyes. Julian is still talking but the crying has calmed.
Now, in the back of my mind, I know this nap isn't going to pan out because I actually thought about it in advance. But I gave it my best shot. 2:12. Oh my gosh, I think I'm actually falling asleep. Dreams begin to formulate, I'm starting to relax, 2:24, Isabelle is crying. I get up, try to put the paci in her mouth and she's not having it. On my way to her room, old house comes through for me and floors creak loud enough to wake the neighbors, who probably have no problem napping except for my exceptionally creaky floors, and Julian starts up again.
Now Isa and Julian feed off of each other's crying, they always have, so they are both screaming. Not fussing, but 'get me the hell out of this bed now,' kind of crying. In my desperation, I set up the pack and play in my room, put Isa in there and shut the door. I leave Julian in his room, but I can tell that he has gotten into his closet because there are thumps and thuds and loud scary noises coming from his room.
I leave my two screaming kids and crawl in bed with the angelic sleeping Adri, who doesn't budge, even though the sun is blasting through the windows on her face and her mom is in bed with her. I lay down. 2:30. I laid there and listened to them both scream for 10 minutes. During that ten minutes I become overcome with guilt that I am not taking care of my children, I'm being selfish, and other self-loathing thoughts. I'm also so upset, uptight, angry, frustrated, tired, guilty, whatever, that it's over.
I get Isabelle, I get Julian. We go downstairs. They are sitting and playing on the ground and I'm here blogging about my wonderful 12 minute nap.
Every mom should be so lucky.
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