And Then, This.

There's an old saying that goes, "There are few problems so great they cannot be resolved with cuddle puddles, hot chocolate, and stove-popped popcorn."

Ok, fine...I just made that up. So it may not be an 'old' saying, but it's my saying, dammit. And I'm standing behind it 100%. Last week, I needed this kind of healing. It had been a rough day that ended in my crying at the kitchen table while my kids looked on, confused. So when Darrick had to leave to go recruit middle schoolers to his high school's wrestling club, I did the only thing I could think of to help me get through to bedtime while feeling really, uncontrolably emotional.

I found a new kids' movie on the DVR, propped the kids up with pillows, stuffed animals, and a soft blankie, and went into the kitchen to make hot chocolate and popcorn. The hot chocolate was extra chocolately, and the popcorn was a stove-top recipe I've perfected in the past 2 months, lightly salted and delicious. And then I settled into the corner of our big sectional couch with the kids curled beside me, pulled their little table over close so they had somewhere to put their mugs and bowls, and lost myself in the smell of Rohan's scalp and the feel of Luca absent mindedly rubbing her toes against mine under the blanket.

This doesn't mean I was suddenly in a fantastic mood and the world was sunshiney. I wish it was that easy. Instead, last week was spent contemplative, pissed off, sad, confused, and resolute. And I wish I had some amazing explanation for all those feelings that would make sense, but the truth is I don't. I think sometimes we walk dark paths not because there is a lesson to be learned or a metaphor to be gleaned, but because it's part of life to struggle now and then. We don't always understand why we're feeling down or confused or stressed, do we? But at some point, we're coming out the other end of it. And if cuddle puddles and pop corn make it more bearable in the interim, then I'd be a fool to deny myself.

Something happened this week, and I don't know exactly what it was. The anniversary of my dad's illness + my own aging + worries about health + sleeplessness + stress + more and more and more = a shit week with lots of tears and long venting sessions and quiet moments of introspection. And then, suddenly, I was on the other side of it. There was no epiphany. No moment of clarity where I saw the way out of the things I'm feeling stifled by and into a future of bliss and perfection. Not even, sadly, any clear and rational understanding of what the hell was wrong with me and why I was feeling so out of myself. What there was, though, was a feeling of peace at the close of the week. I'm not sure what it all means. I'm not sure what all has changed and what will continue changing. I just know that this week challenged me emotionally in a lot of ways and made me think a lot about myself and the things in my life and how they make me feel. It also gave me pause to remember that how I react  - to people, to feelings, to situations, out loud, in my head - matters.

I'm walking into a new week a bit more introspective than I've allowed of myself recently. I'm trying to let myself just be and think and feel and process whatever comes into my mind. I am trying to open myself up to the possibility that there is a lot of possibility.

And if I get there through cuddle puddles and hot chocolate? All the better.

Where I Am.

This week has been shit.
My spirits are down, I've had more than my share of emotional breakdowns, and I am stuck between allowing myself to wallow in ridiculous time-sucks like self pity and trying to snap out of it already.

I'm ready for the weekend. Ready to throw myself into some of the work we've started that's been on hiatus. Darrick has state wrestling championships this weekend, so in his absence I have some big plans. Taking the kids to the park. Grocery shopping and meal planning. Brainstorming a possible kitchen remodel that would involve moving some counters and creating an island. Finally finishing flooring transitions and caulking the foundation downstairs. Building up the bathroom cabinets to the proper height. Buying paint, choosing tile, and putting greenboard in the shower surround so we can tile the wall.

Look, I know how that sounds. My life is lame, right? My weekend plans include building things and planning meals and paint...and I'm looking forward to these things? What have I become?!?

The truth is, there are some times in my life when I need to bury myself elbow-deep in work. Not the sitting-in-the-office-with-a-to-do-list kind of work, but the there's-paint-in-my-hair-and-stain-on-my-elbows-and-hand-me-the-drill-please work. My husband likes to tease that if he wants a clean kitchen, he just needs to irritate me a bit. And it's true. The monotony of cleaning and cooking and sunshine and hard work soothes my soul. There's something about honest work that gives my brain the freedom to sort through the issues I normally try to stuff behind the couch and ignore. And there's something even better about stepping away from a Saturday of hard work and knowing that my mind is clear and my house looks better.

I've been buried under stress lately, firing off responses to flagged emails 20 minutes after I was supposed to leave the office and crying to Luca's preschool teacher (true - and humiliating - story) and  holding back tears over things that would normally not even phase me. My life is at a weird point right now where I don't feel like I know where I'm headed next. There are big decisions on the horizon for me and for us as a family, and all of them have the potential to be amazing and make our lives even better. Not one of them is bad, but the anxiety of making scary new decisions and the uncertainty over what the right choice is cause me to panic. I want to take a week to lay under a blanket on the couch and watch every sappy romantic comedy and crappy show on my DVR possible. I want to tear out kitchen cabinets and appliances and spend hours sanding and cutting and staining and painting. I don't know what I want.

What I am trying to do is this: channel that mindless distraction that leads to mental clarity and which I now get from things like washing and hanging all the laundry and putting it away in perfect ROYGBIV order into running. Write a to-do list to rival all to-do lists and check off every last item, one by one. Purge and clean and organize, in hopes that organizing my home will lend order to my mind and my life. Save money. Enjoy long mornings at the park, watching my kids hold hands in a sea of other kids. Eat slices of fresh, sweet oranges picked from my mom's orange trees.

My brain is all over the place. This weekend, my goal is direction and clarity. I am going to check off items on my to-do list and find time to make popcorn and hot chocolate and watch movies cuddled under a blanket with my family.

Forgiveness.

Have you ever felt like there are just these issues out there, hangning over your head and making your heart feel a little sad? Things you need to air and then forgive, in order to move on with a happy heart?

And what if those things you needed to forgive...were things for which you needed to forgive YOURSELF?

I've made mistakes in my life. I have made decisions that have complicated things for me, and decisions that have been downright idiotic or ill-concieved. And I have also made an honest effort sometimes to be the best, 'best' being defined as the person I dream myself to be when I am feeling very self-righteous and fabulous in my own mind (I forgive myself, by the way, for self-righteous, but fabulous is something for which I will never ask forgiveness).

And so, in the spirit of Christmas coming soon and worries that have been plaguing me and things I just haven't managed to let go, I want to forgive myself so that I can move forward with a free heart.

For spending the first few months of Luca's life worrying about her small size and not trusting my Mama Gut, which told me it was all ok and it's just who she was. For not being able to enjoy that time like I wanted to, and for crying more tears than necessary.

For doubting myself when my parenting decisions came under fire.

For not using cloth diapers exclusively for Luca, and for not really using them at all with Rohan. OH, how I wanted to be a cloth diaper Mama (even back before it was the hipster thing to do), but with a husband who was resistant and a full time job it never worked out the way I hoped.

For not being financially able to be a stay at home mom, even when my heart broke every time I had to leave my babies for work, travel out of town, miss a bed time, supplement becuase I couldn't pump enough milk, miss a milestone, or miss kissing a skinned knee or a sleepy, honey sweet cheek.

For losing my temper with my husband and my kids, which doesn't happen too often, but still feels ugly every time it does.

For gaining too much weight while pregnant and not losing it.

For not producing enough milk with Luca despite every effort under the sun and for not making every effort under the sun with Rohan because I knew the heartbreak and stress it had caused the first time and didn't want to repeat it. For not being able to be the breastfeeding goddess I assumed I would naturally be.

For feeding my kids and myself McDonald's breakfast now and then.

For giving in on circumcision.

For despairing instead of hoping when Rohan was diagnosed with Masto, and for letting that cloud my days and overshadow my joy. For worrying about him being 'normal' or 'accepted' or 'having a disease' and feeling powerless.

For forgetting that the journey with Rohan's diagnosis made us all stronger.

For not saving more money before having kids.

For not saving any money after having kids.

For buying a house when we should have just rented for a year and waited out the falling market to get more house for less money.

For not being good with budgets.

For not listening to my husband with a more open mind.

For jealousy when it inspires ugliness (though not for the jealousy that makes you strive to be a better person).

For never sending out those thank you cards.

For always rushing and doing things last minute.

For credit card debt it feels like we will forever be 'working on paying off'.

For not being able to afford to really go after my calling at this point in my life.

For not shutting my mouth when I really should have.

For not being the super crunchy earth mama I so WANT to be sometimes, because life takes over and convenience wins over conviction.

For not forgiving myself sooner.

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Forgiveness is choosing to love. It is the first skill of self-giving love. --Mahatma Gandhi

Beg. Borrow. Deal.

October is over, and quite honestly it's a relief. I love October...usually. But this October chewed us up, spit us out, then picked up our slobbered remains and shook them to and fro. In summary, October went: bad colds for everyone, travel for work, shit we're overdrawn!, get reimbursed by work and feel like it'll be ok, Luca and Rohan get puking sick, travel again for work (MISS MY KIDS), work 2 Saturdays, get sick again (3 colds in as many months...), unexpected car payment issues, overdrawn again, swallow pride, cry.

I debated whether to blog this, but this is life. And this evening, as my mom handed me a pile of twenty dollar bills folded in half and I sat next to her on the front porch bench unable to look her in the eyes, I didn't want it to be MY life. I was ashamed, having called her in a tear-soaked sobbing panic an hour earlier to ask if she could help us out. And when I went to collect that pile of bills, I gave her a half-hearted attempt at optimism, cloaked in shame and embarassment.

She looked at me, my mom who gives us so much and asks for nothing but our time, and told me to stop. Stop worrying. Stop feeling ashamed.

These things happen. SHIT happens, she reminded me. And then she told me something I did not know. When I was a kid, every once in awhile, she would call my Grandma in California. "Mom, the car needs new tires. I don't know how we'll manage." she'd say. And then, a few days later, a check in her mailbox. Tires purchased. Attempts to thank and repay rebuffed and shrugged off with a, "We've all been there. Take care of my Grandbabies."

The least she could do, my mom assured me, was give me that same kind of support. The least she could do was to help us now that she can.

I've worked since I was 16. I have never asked to borrow a dime. A bad decision made when we bought our car a little over a year ago dropped us into a financial sinkhole. There we were, excited to buy a brand new car we'd saved for. We knew our budget. We talked them down. We were signing the papers when they offered the alternate payments. Pay twice a month, half payments, and save big on interest in the long run. "Sounds good!" we said. "Sign us up!" we grinned.

Fine print and me...we're not always the best of friends. Twice a month payments were actually every 2 week payments. Some months have 5 weeks, you know. And in those months there are 3 payments. Three payments each equal to half a regular payment. For you math impaired readers (which I seem to be), that means every time a month has 5 weeks, we pay 1.5 times the monthly payment. Several hundred dollars a year MORE than expected going to pay our car really screwed us over. Add to that an unexpected medical bill (I won't go into it, but suffice it to say I won't be having another kid for at least a few more years so as to get my money's worth...) and a 10 pm A/C repair on a Sunday night in September, and you've got the makings of the humbling situation explained above.

I have serious pride. My husband does too. But greater than our pride is our love for our kids. So I begged. We borrowed. We'll deal. Tomorrow I get a reimbursement for my trip to DC. Friday we both get paid. We'll be out of the red, into the black, and repaying my mom her donated cash by Saturday.

And someday, when my kids have kids and they call me worried and disbelieving that their hard work hasn't saved them from this kind of situation pulling them under, I'll repay my mom and her mom before in spirit.

November, please be kind to us!

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