Pseudonyms for everyone!!!

Well, only my daughters really. Since my 1 year old hasn't had a name of any kind on this blog, and my almost 3 year old can no longer accurately be called "baby girl" I decided its time to update. So now my older girl will be Pixie and my younger one will be Sunshine. Because those are really accurate descriptions for them. Sunshine is just the sweetest, most content little person. She's happy all the time unless we make her wait too long for her nap or she's sick. And Pixie is very affectionate and dear, while simultaneously high strung and prone to unreasonable tantrums. So she's a toddler is what I'm saying. But that's really all I've got folks. Life is non-stop around here, and I should really be sleeping. Pixie and Sunshine will be awake in 8 hours or so. With Kid and Boy right after them. And Bill graduates in a few weeks so we're prepping and planning and making space for a variety of my in-laws to come for that too. I have no deep soul searching insights today. Maybe tomorrow?

The Follow up

I'm still not entirely sure I know what I want to say. I think I should start with a thank you, and a backstory. A few posts ago I mentioned that some friends were taking me out for a little weekend getaway, just because they're wonderful friends who felt I'd benefit from some rest. Anne, Amy, & Laini, THANK YOU. You are loving, kind, gracious friends and knowing how much you care leaves me speechless. I've been trying to write you each a note since you dropped me off and I cannot find adequate words for how loved I felt, even if I seemed indifferent. I never know the appropriate response is for simple unexpected kindness. I am pretty sure I don't deserve such generous friends.

During our time together they asked me several times "what do you want to do/go/eat?" They weren't trying to be pushy or intrusive, they wanted to do whatever felt most rejuvenating to me. And while I think I usually came up with sort of normal answers I was always thinking
"hide. avoid any semblance of true connection and just hide."
Which, if you know these women is a ridiculous reaction. The 3 of them are some of the most gracious, kind, gentle people I've ever met. They've born many many burdens--mine, their own and others--in the years I've known them and never made me feel like they mind. Sometimes I find myself in situations that remind me how unusual our little community truly is, and it always makes me both incredibly grateful and unbearably sad. To realize how many people just don't have anyone in their life who cares for them well makes me sad. So to have friends like these is something I value so highly. And yet. Still, if they ask how I am how do I react? I try to hide. I try to avoid answering through all manner of avoidance tactics. I asked about their lives, I changed the subject, I deflected by give half-answers that addressed real issues I'm struggling with, but didn't touch the core of my heart. Does this sound ridiculous to anyone else? Even at the time I remember thinking I was being ridiculous and I still couldn't seem to help it. It's a flaw I have, this reflexive deflection.

So when we got home I felt a bit deflated; like I'd disappointed them with my guarded, defensiveness. It all seems so silly now but that is why they say hindsight is 20/20 right?
So all of that to say the videos(links at bottom of post) I watched of this researcher talking about being vulnerable came at what could be gently described as 'timely'. Her discussion on what she calls Wholehearted living and what it could mean for our culture just hit me really hard. On a gut wrenching, heart searing level that I was unprepared to process*. I didn't understand why it dug so deep to hear what she had to say. I think I still don't entirely understand.
Here's what I have so far though: too much of my outlook, my inner monologue, my daily approach is based in shame or fear. Apparently I am unconsciously a moderate self hater. I wouldn't have described myself that way a few months ago but the more I pay attention to what's actually going on inside my head the more I'm sure its true. I say moderate because if I stop and listen, I can usually turn myself around fairly quickly; not always but usually. Even so I'm shocked regularly to really hear what goes through my own mind at any given moment. For me the "not good enoughs" are different than a lot of women(at least I think they are, based on what I know about other womens' struggles). My appearance isn't a huge thing for me in general. I'm not super confident about risks in that area but on the other hand I don't care very much if people think I'm sloppy or under dressed or whatever. It just isn't something that interests me.
Like everyone though, that nasty voice constantly reminds me of zillions of other ways I don't measure up. My house is too dirty, and not decorated or organized well enough. My kids are too loud, too dirty, too hyper, too weird or some combination thereof. I'm an inconsiderate wife, a lazy daughter, not a supportive enough sister or friend. I'm not spiritual enough or gracious enough or loving enough to people God places in my life. I'm always late and I don't send birthday cards or Christmas cards or remember to buy presents for my family. I don't walk my dog enough. The list--as I'm sure you can imagine--can go on for miles.
Now we hit my sticking point. The one that always trips me up in these soul endeavors. What next? I recognize God prodding me toward something, His loving insistence that I not ignore all these pots He's stirring in me. And lots of growth IS happening in tiny little bits at a time. But you know what? Growth is hard. And exhausting. And not usually pretty or fun. And there's no easy way to tell if I'm finished. How will I know if I've "fixed" this? I'm not even sure I like this brand of growth. Couldn't I just have some sort of major epiphany and then be totally done with certain issues? Why now? What should I do with all of this to help myself continue processing? I don't know. For today it has to be enough that I've written it down, and I'm willing to keeping thinking it over. Hopefully that will lead me somewhere good tomorrow.
Hopefully.

*I am nearly always unprepared to process hard hitting emotional responses.

http://www.ted.com/speakers/brene_brown.html

Both her talks appear in the right hand column of her ted page. They're about 20 minutes each.

Daring Greatly

I just watched 2 phenomenal ted talks. The speaker mentions that quote by Teddy Roosevelt about how the credit in life should go to the man in the arena. The one who actually dares to attempt something, even if it means they fail. I'll find some links and put them in here later, but for now I just needed to say that this idea--when stated in light of our cultural tendency towards shame and its conspirator fear--is shaking me to my core. I don't know why or what that might mean but I know it is important and I intend to run hard after the source of that shaking. If anyone reads this, please check back in a few days or a week to see what happens.

Have a wonderful soul-giving day.

Laundry in abundance

Let me intentionally start this post with something positive, something cheery and not depressing, whiny or sad. My 4th child, who still needs a pseudonym even though she's 10 months old, recently discovered she can pull herself into a standing position. She is very excited and proud of this new feat and grins adorably while she does it. Those sweet, dimpled little smiles are some of my very favorite moments each day. *contented sigh*
She is a truly endearing little person who seems to delight in all parts of our disorganized life. Except for teething or the flu--but who can blame her for not liking those? I heart her. And so does Bob, who currently sees her less than 1 hr a day due to an unmanageable workload combined with an infant's sleep needs. If I could change 1 small thing in our life right now it would definitely be making it possible for Bob to be able to spend more time loving on that baby. He adores her, and cannot get enough of playing and snuggling and laughing with her. I think it would be therapeutic for his overworked soul. *less contented sigh*

And now my originally intended post.
I do a lot of laundry. And I hate it. I hate hauling it down to the machines, sorting it, having to remember to switch the load, hauling it back up. I really really hate folding it and either putting it away or browbeating my offspring into putting their own away. (This chore being, clearly, a torturous task only the truly horrid would foist on a child) I hate it because it is thankless, and monotonous and most of all because it is never. Ever. done. Ever.
Last weekend I completed something like 8 loads of laundry, after a week that included both house guests and a disgusting flu that involved both vomit and explosive intestinal distress. And when I finished folding it all do you know what happened? I bet you can guess. . . Yep, I still had 2 more clean loads in the dryer or baskets, plus the other items already re-filling hampers in all 3 bedrooms. And today I will be doing some more.
I am trying to find something in this unending task to be thankful for, but today it eludes me. I mean, I'm glad no one in our house has to go naked and all, but only in an intellectual, no desire to get calls from schools or get Bob fired way. Not actually grateful. I suppose the rest of our community is glad we aren't nudists, so maybe knowing I'm contributing to the common good will have to be close enough for now. Tomorrow I will be thankful for many things, including some uninterrupted time with dear friends who I cherish and who love me much better than I deserve. Is it ridiculous to be saving up thankfulness? *final, confused sigh*

rambling new year thoughts

So this may be a bit morbid, but the other day my nephew posted this photo on facebook. Its my father's headstone, from his recent visit to the cemetery. When I saw it there, with his very sweet message of love for his grandfather I felt exposed. raw. wounded. My soul clawed frantically for coping mechanisms, escape, anything to avoid actually feeling the sorrow and pain that comes with remembering my Pop. I don't know if you can see the dates clearly but Pop died in 2004. He's been gone 8 years this May. To be totally torn open like this shocked me. It feels excessive, unduly overwhelming. I've been pondering my reaction for several days, trying to make sense of it.
Then last night my dear friend gave part of our church's message; she talked about looking forward to what God will do this year, and about being honest about our hopes and desires and needs as we move out of 2011 and into 2012. I am not a resolution maker, but her words hit my heart like an arrow. She asked us to think of what type of year we wanted, what word or words we wanted to describe our journey. One word filled my mind. Healing. I want so badly for this year to one of healing and new growth and health. There are a lot of reasons for that, but as I sat there sorting through my mind I realized that even after 8 years I still need healing.
Pop was not an easy man to love, nor an easy father to have but he was the only one God gave me. I am still angry and hurt that He saw fit to take him back so soon. My dad never met my children--never even knew 'Kid was on the way since I didn't know myself until after his death. He never saw them crawl or walk or laugh or taught them any of the things he taught my nephew. He never took the trip we had planned to see his Mother overseas, the one I missed to give birth to 'Boy. He missed so very many things that make my life the joyous chaotic tangle it is now. He wasn't there to comfort me when I lost 2 babies to miscarriage, or when we buried his brother and his sister. He isn't here now for me to call if I'm uncertain about my parenting or to ask for advice.
All those missed experiences, missed memories, make the anger and hurt grow. I try to corral it with trite sayings about time easing pain and how Dad is in a better place. I try to tell my kids about their granddad and enjoy their delight in silly stories. But in the end, I feel like the wife in a book I read who simply wants her husband back so she won't give away his shoes because he'll need them when he returns.

And yet somehow I can live with joy and love and contentment still. The hope I feel for my own kids does ease my heart and gives me peace in its own way. Maybe that's part of the answer, the love that keeps growing around and through and over the hurts. Like a vine that won't stop for any obstacle the love just worms its way in and keeps building. If I were an artist I'd sketch that, a big lovely flowery vine lacing together wounded hearts and souls with its green tendrils. Maybe if healing is my word, that can be my image this year. To help me remember that even if the wounds seem untended the master gardener is always coaxing new growth and new loves to soothe and repair and re-build. I'll have to remind myself a lot this year. To remember to watch carefully for new shoots in unexpected places to help me grow.

Am I crazy?

Sometimes I wonder if I have lost my mind. Do you do that? I'd like to believe other people, especially Moms, feel that way fairly often. It would make me feel less weird and more included. :)
It should be said that there isn't really anything crazy going on in our house right now. I mean, nothing beyond 7 people and a 90 pound dog in 1400 square feet with 1 bathroom. And preparing for Christmas. And helping Bill figure out what he wants to do when he graduates in May. And trying to teach the kids to love God and behave with a modicum of respect and kindness to each other and to us. When I put it like that I guess I can see why sometimes other people look at me strangely. Honestly though, so much of the time I just think "what's the big deal folks? this is my life, I don't spend time pondering how I will ever manage to care for all 4 kids because I'm too busy actually taking care of them. And Bill. And the dog. And Bob. And even myself sometimes. Do I get tired and frustrated? Regularly. Do I lose my temper over silly things more often than I'd like? Yes. That's because I, like most people, am not perfect. That used to really really bother me. I'm mostly over that now; don't misunderstand me I still spend more time than is probably useful berating myself over my shortcomings. Just not about not being perfect.
Anyway what I was trying to say was that while I sort of get why my life may look more complicated or crazier than some, I don't really understand why people act as though I am somehow heroically competent or strong or whatever just because I have several kids. I'm just a regular Mom, trying to keep everyone fed and marginally clean and reasonably adjusted. I don't shoot for well-adjusted, just basic adjusted.
I would, however, really like to spend more time on some hobbies. I feel like a few good creative projects would be therapeutic for me. But that's probably another post entirely. Have a good day.

It has been too long.

I have been very tired lately, and unable to find the drive to write even so much as a recipe. We have had all manner of events causing higher than usual amounts of upheaval and stress and I am learning that maintaining my equilibrium during these seasons is exhausting for me. To wake up each day and manage to engage with my kids, and keep them fed and clothed is often all I can do. No extra cleaning or phone calls to friends(even when I desperately need a chat!). No extraneous errands or duties of any kind. I simply cannot do it. I don't know why, since nothing that has happened has really been so horrendous. Crazy and unexpected yes, but not really so bad in the grand scheme.

Bob was laid off a few weeks ago, which was unsettling; but he will get some severance pay and has already found a new job which is better on several fronts. And our bank account was hacked into, but they didn't get much money and we've already been refunded and they chose one of the only days in months when stealing from us wouldn't push our balance into the negative numbers. And these 2 things together, along with some other timing issues does mean I won't be able to take a trip I was really hoping to take. I am sad to miss it, but I do believe the past few weeks were a clear sign that now is not the time for me to go on this particular adventure. Plus the baby wouldn't have done well with me gone for so long and that would mean Bob and the other kids wouldn't either.

I am learning a lot about myself right now though, and that is sort of tiring too. Things like this amount of change really really drains me emotionally and I need to be extra careful to intentionally continue pouring into my kids. If I don't consciously choose to interact with them I find myself turning on the tv for hours and ignoring their bickering and cries while I aimlessly surf the internet or even just watch with them. It is no way to live and I have to fight that urge constantly. Because honestly, the energy I seem to require to process changes like these seems ridiculous to me. So I am still trying to sift through the cobwebs and cyclones of my mind to understand where the shifts have happened and what they mean for me as I move forward.

I just feel like I ought to be stronger somehow, more able to soldier on and accomplish things. I thinks it is bizarre and a bit irritating that rather than nervous energy that makes me obsessively clean cupboards or write or do something productive, I just want to sit somewhere quiet by myself. Just sit. Or maybe nap a little. What does it say about me that I covet this specific brand of compulsion, even though I know so many folks who find it suffocating to live that way?

I have no idea. But I will keep processing and trying to discern what it all means and praying and maybe eventually I'll figure out a few useful tips to share. It could happen right?

I think this may be pretty disjointed and hard to understand; that is probably because my mind is feeling disjointed and difficult to understand right now.