Uncomfortably Numb

~A. L. Tennyson

I wish they warned me about this in Psychology class. I think there should be at least a whole semester devoted to how depression makes you unfit and unable to handle being a mother. Because that’s how I feel.

I remember watching a video a few years ago about a high school track athlete with Multiple Sclerosis. She was explaining that after intense exertion, the MS causes her to lose all the feeling in her extremities, even while her body keeps going through the motions. Besides feeling completely in awe of her perseverance in spite of her diagnosis, I thought that was such a similar description to what I feel like, parenting with depression. When it takes all the energy and motivation you have to simply get up and get out of bed in the morning, I feel like I spend the rest of my day numb - going through the motions. There is just nothing left for when the day doesn’t go as planned, or the kids are being especially cruel. And they’re kids. For the most part, they shouldn’t be to blame for expressing themselves when they’re frustrated and confused and unsure of how to show it meaningfully. But at the same time, it hurts. It hurts so much when they yell at you and tell you that they think you don’t care about them. Because - unbeknownst to them - the fear that you’re not able to care enough plays on repeat in your own head all day. When all of the daylight hours feel like you’re running a track race completely numb, using every amount of effort you have just to make sure your kids are content, and fed, and washed, and dressed. When you’re foregoing eating, and drinks, and the rest you so desperately crave, just to make sure that you are there, and present, and engaging with them so you don’t lie in bed later agonizing over all the wasted minutes and hours that slipped away when you were so lost and struggling with your own body and mind - just to have them turn around and scream at you that all your best effort isn’t worth it...
Not worth it, and not worthy. Their words repeat what your depression is telling you, every day. When the message echoes around you in stereo, its so hard to tune out the noise. But your one job as a parent is that you must not give up. Sometimes I wonder if the pain is my blessing in life, just so I know that the numbness isn’t all there is.

Remembrance

I held a small ceremony to mark the 20th anniversary of the passing of my mom. I wasn't sure how well it would be received or attended, but I really felt like I needed to do something. It has been so long without her.
I had seen many years ago that Hawaii started a lantern floating ceremony on Memorial Day that looked so peaceful and beautiful. People write messages to loved ones and then float them off the coast of the beach. I wanted to try and recreate something like that for my mom. I think it was a wonderful success. The evening started off with a sun dog appearing in the sky, and a small breeze sent all the lanterns with their messages safely to the other side of the lake.
It was a beautiful evening surrounded by friends and family. I feel incredibly lucky to have so many people still here to remember her by. I'm hoping to try and do it again sometime, to keep her memory alive.

Five Little Words

"There was once a boy named Pierre, who only would say,"I don't care!"

Read his story, my friend, for you'll find at the end, that a suitable moral lies there." ~M. Sendak

Mommy lost her shit yesterday. I feel like it was inevitable, with how much stress I have been under, and how little release I have been finding time for. And of course, since Monkey has the shortcut menu to my hot buttons, she was the one to set me off. Just five little words that apparently blow my temper like an atom bomb. “You don’t care about me.”

Oh, my darling, how wrong you are.

I realize mothering is the most thankless of jobs. The day to day minutiae that actually makes a household run is something always expected, but never appreciated. I have yet to have one of my children thank me for the hours spent making them complete their homework, or hounding them about project deadlines, or telling them to turn off the video games, and go outside. The most feedback I get about dinner, and breakfast, and lunch is how horrible it is, and that they refuse to eat it. And I know the last thing they’re thinking about while they’re off doing their thing at dance, or sports practice, or a game, is what Mommy is thinking about on the bench while she’s waiting for them. About how she skipped dinner to make sure they were fed, or is cold because their sibling insisted they didn’t need a coat so she gave them her own, or how she wished she could be off doing the million other errands that need to be done, but she doesn’t have time for. Because she is with them, always. In mind, in thought, in action.
Most times I can take a step back from my anger and remind myself that they are blessed that they are truly unaware of what it is to experience someone not caring about them. That their hurt feelings and animosity are temporary and fleeting, unlike the scars some children carry from the burden of being neglected or alone. But every once in awhile, they witness the human side of me. The side that is just as hurt and resentful as they are about how unfair I feel I’m being treated. And as guilty as I feel about it now, as horrible and childish I myself acted, in a way I’m glad they saw me as raw as I was. I hope they remember that was Mommy caring so much about you that she was crying.

Open Letter to the Peanut Gallery

au·ton·o·my - (n) freedom from external control or influence; independence.

synonyms: self-government, self-rule, home rule, self-determination, independence, sovereignty, freedom

 I have always tried to be the loudest advocate for my child. All three of them. But within that philosophy was always the understanding between my husband and myself that we would raise them to advocate for themselves. Speak for themselves, ask their own questions, make their own decisions, and suffer the related consequences. For Scootch, this was easy. Him having food allergies makes teaching points a simple requirement of everyday life. Asking questions about food, sharing with adults that he has allergies, asking for help from others to check about the safety of what he was eating...I have to say in some ways he is the most confident of the three in regards of his own body. This is a more complicated hurdle with Monkey. Having to explain the subtle double standards expected of her is not an easy task. Nor is it pleasant to deal with her response to such conversations. She’s as loud spoken as her Mom, in that respect. But most important, we hope that the message they take away is that their body is their own. Not only does that mean that they are responsible for their body in terms of how it affects others, but also that no other person should be affecting their own body in an unwanted way if it doesn’t feel right to them. Whether its about how they dress, or the colors they like, how they paint their nails, or wear their hair, I'm hoping that giving them the freedom of body autonomy from an early age will strengthen their defenses against the poisonous influence of peer pressure and bullying in the future.

The most surprising effect of this process is not the reactions from my children’s peers, but from the adults. Although I’m sure I probably shouldn’t be surprised. Parenthood is nothing but opening yourself to be a target of criticism, it seems. I see this more and more as my sons go to school with their nails painted, and my daughter brings in bugs she dug up in the garden - to the delight of their peers, and the horror of the parents. No one could believe I never got my daughter’s ears pierced until she let me know she wanted them done at age eight. And similarly, I’ve discussed with Scootch and Little Bear that they have the same option, but both are sincerely not interested. In my thinking its simple; their bodies, their choice.

Over Christmas, my husband decided he wanted to color his hair again. Not a rare occurrence in this household, but novel just the same because of the proposed colors involved. Monkey caught wind of this and announced she wanted to color her hair too. Just the ends, and red for Christmas. The ensuing Daddy/daughter bonding was sweet to see. The two of them combing the beauty supply store for supplies, negotiating about the perfect color, and the excitement and elation of the actual process. And when the first attempt didn’t work out, I was happy to see Monkey discussing that she wanted to try again, but different this time. Maybe doing the under part of her hair instead of the ends. And more prep work involved so the color would actually stick. We are now the proud parents of a nine year old with a swath of magenta hair at the nape of her neck. And the backlash is ridiculous.

I will never understand how other adults feel their opinion is something that is worth pushing on others if there is no harm being done. In a year or two, the pink will be long gone, and probably cut off. Maybe replaced by purple polka dots, or maybe by a pixie cut. We are teaching our daughter, our children, to love their bodies. Push the boundaries of what they can do, and how they go about it. To express themselves, and feel secure in doing it. The whispered comments, and vitriol are not helpful, and not needed. Monkey and Scootch and Little Bear do not require your approval to feel good about themselves. Neither should they ever feel cowed or ashamed of not living by the so called “acceptable” standards because it makes YOU nervous or uncomfortable. As adults, you should know better, and as a fellow parent, you should be ashamed of trying to bruise the feelings of a child. Over hair. Something that is transient, ever changing, and not even guaranteed to be present throughout your entire life. 

In the future, if you have a comment regarding our children’s journey of self discovery, please remember that if you have nothing nice to say, it is better to respect my children's decisions about their own bodies, and say nothing at all.

Five Years Long

The baby is 5 today!! I guess that means he's all grown up now. Happy Birthday to our funny, pint sized, littlest man with the biggest personality! Even when you grow to be 6 feet tall, you'll still be my baby boy! We love you always, Little Bear!

Birthday Princess

Where does the time go?? I can't believe Monkey is 9 years old today!! The last year before double digits!! You are our biggest kid with the biggest dreams!! We hope you make them all come true someday!!

The Middle

Happiest of birthdays to my biggest boy! I can't believe on my birthday 7 years ago I went into labor with you, and had to wait three whole days until you'd come out and meet us! To this day you insist on doing things on your own time, but you achieve everything you set your mind on! You are happy, funny, and smart. I love your smile and your effort to make everyone else around you smile too! Happy 7th Birthday, Scootch!!

Nineteen Years

"Why does it take a minute to say hello and forever to say goodbye?" ~Unknown

Nineteen years

Since you left this place.

Since I’ve held your hand.

Seen your face.

Days go by

Disjointed at best.

Inured, eviscerated

Within the same breath.

I never thought

I could carry on

But here we are…..

Nineteen years already gone.

Four

"A characteristic of the normal child is he doesn't act that way very often." ~Unknown

Here we are at the last cusp of toddlerhood, Little Bear, your fourth birthday! I can already see you have left almost all of your baby ways behind, and are forging ahead at top speed to reach that grown up place your brother and sister inhabit where nobody tells you you are too small. And you really are the biggest personality in this house. You let absolutely no one forget you are here. Whether its your antics, your laughter, your screaming, or your arms wound around my legs, I always know when you’re nearby.
I love your opinions slipping out. Even though its usually something unflattering, you speak the whole truth and nothing but. You still call your favorite restaurant “Old McDonalds” and lovingly mangle a whole other bunch of words, like "dysterical" and "skunkt" but I also have enjoyed discussing the past and the future with you. I love how you tell me what you want to be when you grow up - a pilot, a farmer, a fireman - and I sincerely hope you can make them all come true one day! You are my biggest helper in all aspects, from shopping, to helping me carry things, to making dinner or dessert. It amuses me how much your taste is similar to Daddy’s, and I can always count on you to pick out something he will like. You are feisty, and full of spitfire, but will still snuggle with me and offer me hugs and kisses with no prompting or warning. You are growing so fast into a little man, and sometimes I want to just wrap you up and ask time to stop so I can carry you around for just a little bit longer. Even when you are 6 feet tall, you’ll still be my baby boy.
Happiest of birthdays, Little Bear!

The Wisdom to Know the Difference

“Good decisions come from experience, and experience comes from bad decisions.” ~Author Unknown

Its been six months since the day I cried after meeting with Scootch’s teacher - the day she told me she wanted to hold him back and repeat a year. But I remember having a purpose after I dried my eyes. I knew that her solution wasn’t what was best for Scootch, and I knew what needed to be done to get him in the best place possible. And since school has been underway and going so extremely well for him, I was thinking it would be great to breathe a nice deep sigh of relief and relax for a little while while things went back to what passes for normal around here.

And then the homework drama started. But not with who you would expect.

Monkey came home one day with a blank assignment pad. I asked her if she had any homework, and she said, “Yes. But I forgot to write it down.” Its happened to all of us, so I let it slide. But the next night she forgot to bring home the list of her new spelling words. The night after we had a bout of tears before we would even attempt to do our spelling homework, and the math homework induced a temper tantrum.

I was thinking it was just her being tired. We tried to keep the kids close to their normal schedule over the summer, but seriously, it was still daylight out at 8pm. There was no way those kids were going to lay down and go to sleep with sunshine coming through the window. And the first two weeks back to school are always a harsh adjustment. But the problems persisted. Every night was a different issue. She left the paper in her desk, forgot her assignment pad, didn’t hear her teacher say they had any homework. The excuses were piling up as fast as the laundry, and I was getting annoyed. Plus, she got her first note sent home from the teacher stapled to a stack of assignments. “Homework incomplete. Please have her finish and hand in.” So we sat down to try and have a chat, and that didn’t end well either. It turned into Monkey yelling and crying and fleeing to her room to calm down. (And ultimately, escape into a book.)

But what startled me was a couple days later. I was (as usual) trying to supervise her doing her homework while I was starting dinner when she just laid her head down on the table and started to cry. And when I asked her what was wrong she told me “I’m just too stupid to do math.”

That floored me.

My kids are not stupid. We don’t call them that, we never have, and no one I have ever met has ever used that adjective to describe my children. My first reaction was my gender-equality-feminist-temper bristling at the thought of someone telling my daughter that she was the “s-word.” So when I immediately asked her who told her that, I felt sick when she told me, “No one. I just know I’m too dumb.”

I don’t think there are words for the feeling you get as a parent when your kids stop believing in themselves. Its a special kind of frustration and pain that splits you apart because they don’t see themselves as the beautiful, well-rounded, human being that they are. But furthermore, this was not my child. This sullen, bad tempered, obstinate little girl who was so shrunk into herself, was not the same laughing, imaginative, Monkey I sent to school on the bus four weeks ago. And after spending the entire summer getting Scootch evaluated, reading literature for Attention Deficit Disorder, and answering the same questionnaires and Vanderbuilt assessments in triplicate, of course my first thought was, “Does she need to be evaluated for ADHD, too? Maybe we’ve missed something.”

And I don’t know what to do. My instinct, which was so absolutely right with Scootch, is telling me this is not just growing pains, or the need to give her more time to adjust to third grade. Its telling me something is wrong. But at the same time, I don’t know if maybe this is just backlash from giving her brother so much special attention over the summer. Or stemming from the fact that she was in an inclusion class last year, and this year is her first experience with changing classes for subjects. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions with her needing to go through an evaluation because it is literally just fresh on my brain and I am seeing it everywhere. And at this point, since her grades aren’t slipping yet, I don’t know if she would even qualify for one. We’ve written to her teachers to ask if there is anything else they are noticing that we are missing, and have somewhat agreed to just let it ride as a ‘wait and see’ period. Meanwhile, we had a temper tantrum, missing homework assignments AND Monkey staying up past 9pm to finish her homework last night. So what is the tipping point? Where is the line in the sand that tells us we have spent enough time waiting? As I stand here watching my brightest flower wither and languish while her self esteem drains away, I don’t know how much longer I can endure seeing her suffer. Not when I know how much change you can create by simply standing up and saying “enough.” Scootch is evidence of that. I just need to know whether its the right direction to go with Monkey as well.

Pants on Fire

Liar, liar, pants on fire, hang them up on telephone wire.

Monkey used to sneak food when she was a toddler. She learned how to open the refrigerator while she was still in her walker, so being fully mobile opened up a whole new avenue of pantry raiding when Scootch was born. Instead of requesting a snack, she just felt it would be easier to liberate the food herself while I was usually otherwise occupied with a feeding or a diaper change. The denial was amusing  when she was three and vehemently denied she stole granola bars while the melted chocolate chips were still smeared all over her mouth. Now that she's the ripe old age of seven and a half with an attitude to match, the denial isn't cute anymore.
Its partially my fault, to be honest. We fight over so many things during the course of the day, taking her to task for the daily petty offences is usually one of the battles I choose to just not engage in. I tell her I think she's lying, she denies it, and I just leave it lie, hoping she'll at least acknowledge to herself she is in the wrong. She's not really adept at hiding the evidence, either. Which is something else I fail to point out to her because, truthfully, I don't want her improving on that particular life skill. My tipping point, however, came while Daddy was away for a few days on business. The second time that week she came downstairs dressed for school wearing my good 14K gold jewelry I pretty much flipped my lid. To which she just insisted she "found it" in her jewelry box. No. Way. In. Hades. my jewelry spontaneously traveled space and time into the little box in her bedroom!
When Daddy came home, I was more than happy to hand off the disciplinary reins to him when it came to refereeing a dinner fiasco. Monkey refused to eat her dinner the entire meal, then when everyone else left the table, she came prancing into the living room two minutes later claiming to have finished every last bite. It didn't take much investigating for Daddy to find her entire meal stuffed into the garbage can. That evening's bedtime routine became one long talk about truth and dishonesty. And in some ways I'm so thankful he's here to get through to her. Monkey listens and opens up to Daddy in so many other ways than we communicate with each other. He can get to the root of her behaviors and actions so much quicker than I ever seem to be able to. On the other hand, its positively maddening to deal with a child who is so righteous and fastidious about preaching right and wrong about other's behavior, but never seems to hold herself to the same measure. Especially when I'm the one at home usually stuck holding the ruler. I'm just hoping we're working through this phase, and she has finally learned a valuable lesson.

The Long Winter

Nature looks dead in winter because her life is gathered into her heart. She calls her family together within her inmost home to prepare them for being scattered abroad upon the face of the earth. ~H. M.

Daddy and the kiddos in front of the snow shelter they made

Is it safe to come out yet?

How does the shortest month of the year somehow feel like the longest? Can’t believe how much was due and done in the little month of February, but C’est la vie of a busy mom, I guess. I survived my first cookie sale as a Girl Scout leader! Monkey reached all her selling goals despite the weather giving us more snow days than we knew what to do with. I am always amazingly grateful for the generosity of our family and friends during fundraiser season. And this year she also won a Golden Award at school for the month of February for demonstrating Fairness all month. Couldn’t be more proud of her and the little lady she is blossoming into!

Scootch is flourishing in Kindergarten despite some physical issues. He’s already mastering addition, subtraction, and lots and lots of reading! He loves to come home with stories and pictures from his Writers Workshop sessions in school, which usually depict monsters and roller coasters. There is no end to his imagination and his bright mind. You can tell he is always thinking. His teacher is suggesting we get him some assessments done, though. Many of his motor skills and developmental behaviors don’t seem on par with his age group, so she just wants to make sure we aren’t overlooking something that might impact him as he gets older if they aren’t corrected now.

Little Bear is becoming quite the little man these days. He is definitely not shy in telling you what is on his mind. And what’s usually on his mind is his next meal. ;-) He is getting so proficient and independent in everyday things, and is my capable little helper. Whether we’re using the screwdriver to change the batteries in his toys or making a three course meal, he is usually right there by my side telling me “I help you, Mommy.” And help he does. He could probably make the Friday night pizza dough himself if he could reach all the ingredients. As much as I miss having a baby around, this bright little boy is nothing short of amazing everyday. Come September I’m sure we’ll have to start him in a preschool program of some sort. He’s already so good with his letters and numbers and shapes, I think a learning environment a few days a well would do him lots of good.

But right now, we’re just thinking warm thoughts and wishing for Spring!

Oh How They Grow!

I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us. ~C. Dickens

This is happening.  

And this

And this

Someone stop feeding them Miracle Grow! They’re getting way too big way too fast!

Three’s a Crowd

It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge. ~P. Diller

Top 10 list of things that are more difficult with three children instead of two;

1. Trying to fit 3 car seats across the backseat of a 5 passenger car. Or as my husband and I call it - Car Seat Tetris

2. Holding hands in the parking lot or to cross the street.

3. When you have roast chicken for dinner and each kid wants a drumstick

4. When they play together, one of them is usually left out. This becomes a major war when the game they are playing involves the Xbox.

5. When they are all scheduled for activities and they somehow all have to be in a different place at the same time.

6. When you’re out shopping solo duty and one of them utters the dreaded “Mom, I have to go bathroom!”

7. When you’re out shopping with them and YOU have to go to the bathroom!

8. Telling them apart by voice from another room when you can hear that giggling that signifies they’re up to no good

9. When there are only two of you and all three need to be accompanied on the roller coaster at the amusement park

And my all time favorite -
10. Trying to keep a straight face. Especially when someone stops by out of the blue to witness your house trashed, the oldest one chasing the dog, the middle one playing train in the kitchen with the dining chairs and the youngest one running around the house with no pants. Because in this house that’s the usual after school activities that go on between homework and dinner.

Sometimes parenthood is all about keeping your sense of humor intact.

Lucky Strike

Better to lose count while naming your blessings than to lose your blessings to counting your troubles. ~Maltbie D. Babcock

 We went to the beach one evening to have dinner with wonderful friends of the family and then watch some fireworks with the kids. It was beautiful the entire night, but apparently the weather at home was a different story. About two hours after we left, a nasty thunderstorm rolled in at our house and lightning struck the massive oak tree next to our driveway. Our neighbor called to tell us about it, and we immediately asked after hubby's Passat since it was parked nearby in the driveway. She said it looked fine, that no branches had fallen on it or anything. However, when we came home at night, we noticed that although the car had suffered no exterior damage, something was definitely wrong. The entire dash was lit up, but blank, with no mileage or time showing, and all attempts to start the car failed. The only explanation was that the car had been hit by the lightning as well.

It was a sad day when they came to take the car for assessment, not knowing whether we'd ever see it again. And ultimately, in the end, the insurance deemed it totaled. Then the fun began of looking for a replacement. Since my GTI wouldn't fit all five of us plus dog, we decided we still needed a larger family hauler, but that it didn't make sense for hubby to drive it to commute to work. The GTI got better gas mileage, so that was passed into his possession, and we found me a pre-owned Mommy-mobile. 

Say hello to my Mazda5, or as hubby likes to call it, the macro-van. We ended up driving three states away to get it, but it covered all the needs and wants on our list, like a manual transmission, and three rows of seats so the kids aren't punching each other in the eye while I'm driving. I never wanted to be a minivan driving mom, but I must say, it was extremely less painful driving with the three kids and dog up to our vacation in Canada than it ever was driving two towns over with the three of them in the GTI. Separated children make for much better behaved children. And the folded down seat in the back is the perfect size for our furbaby's travel crate. She was one happy pup to be included in our vacation. And as I've been driving it for over a month now, I have to say its growing on me. I still miss the creature comforts of the GTI (especially the heated seats when I have to drive Scootch to preschool in the mornings), and of course the response and handling is nothing like my sporty 2.0 liter turbo was. But all in all, I must say, if there was ever a happy outcome to a lightning strike, I'm thinking a car upgrade is it!

Lazy, hazy, crazy days

Summer in recap;

Sesame Place
 

Swimming

Car Shows
   
The Beach
 
Boating
   

Trains






Fireworks


Fishing

My Own Marvel-ous Super Villians

“Children need love, especially when they do not deserve it.” ~Harold Hulbert

My kids have superpowers. They can make me crazy like noone else. And, Like Voltron, they can combine their talents to become a superforce of mayhem and chaos. I have always known that Monkey is the game changing force around the house. The effect and influence she has on her brothers is extremely apparent. Even when she was in Preschool, there was such a change in Scootch from when he was home in the morning with Little Bear and I, to when Monkey came home in the afternoon. This summer is proving no different. Having them home all together is proving challenging and an ultimate test in patience and negotiation on my part. But I also think I’ve also been able to pin down each of their superpowers.

Monkey - AKA Red Hawk. Red Hawk’s superpower is in the power of her voice. She can scream at such a high pitch and volume that you’ll fear for the solidity of all the glass in the immediate vicinity. Red Hawk can also sustain her verbal attack for what seems like hours on end. If the audio onslaught doesn’t bring you to your knees immediately, the persistence of it lasting is sure to make you cry or give in to her demands.

Scootch - AKA Scrambler. Scrambler’s method affects your hearing and your mind. He has the power of talking so fast and so unclearly you are immediately incapacitated by confusion because your brain is struggling to sort out whether what he just said is a threat or not. Scrambler’s advantage is that he is tireless and knows to keep up his streams of gibberish so that your mental capacity never has a chance to catch up. You are literally reduced to a pondering lump of confusion and find yourself agreeing to his stipulations whether you meant to or not.
Little Bear - AKA Bruiser. Because he is still developing his abilities for verbal attacks, Bruiser’s talent is purely physical. His method of disarming you is to lure you in with a charming smile or minor accident. When you get closer or come to his aid he will immediately change tactics and strike with his python like grip, usually incapacitating you by grabbing your legs together below your knees, or latching onto your hair or your mouth.You are rendered useless immediately and find yourself with no other option but to take his lead and bend to his will.  

As you can imagine, the talents of hubby and I are weak in comparison. Time outs and bribery have no positive effect on the super trio. Usually there are long negotiations for cease fire involved which are extremely tiring. Lately our best defense has amounted to the exhaustion and dazzle method. We work them outside to the point of grumpiness and then bring them inside for downtime on the couch with books or a movie. We’re hoping to stick it out for the next 6 weeks until school starts up again. Nothing negates their super powers like the power of teachers and peers!