The Need to be Bold

I was once bold.  I was talking to my oldest today, who is nearly 8 and is fascinated by WWII planes.  I asked him if he wanted to be a pilot someday, and he shook his head, no, he wanted to design and build planes.  That's bold.  I told him that at 8 I wanted to be the first woman President, to be on the cover of Time Magazine (which he'd never heard of), and to be an astronaut.  He was stunned.  How could a mom be so bold and focused?  He knows me as the mom who naps in the afternoon, who lets them play video games while I surf the web, who pushes him to read three grade levels ahead and bemoans our school's lack of challenging math programs.  He doesn't realize I have three degrees, that I'm nearly a CPA, that I balance home, children, marriage, part-time work, search for a full-time job, caring for an elderly father, studying, soccer/karate/baseball practice and.... drum roll please, being cub master of his cub scout pack.  I do a lot, in addition to two loads of laundry hand dried each day, keeping up the wood stove, cooking three meals, and trying to get him ready for his first communion.

Yet I still feel like I am letting myself, and my family down.  I have tasks that have dried up on the vine, they are so old, yet they must be done.  I haven't exercised in months, not even a walk around the block. I never get ahead, am always late, and am the queen of procrastination.  And my favorite habit, if you didn't guess it?  Berating and belittling myself.

What happened to that bold 8 year old?  She went off to the Ivy League and in spite of some terrible personal losses, garnered the Wall Street internship, phenomenal grades, and ultimately a terrific job with a huge company.  Then somewhere amidst marriage, house, and children, I lost focus.  I lost intensity, and I definitely lost my energy.

I've lost my mojo!  (bad reference to old 90's movies).  Seriously - that's not depression, that's just a lack of boldness.  I want to be bold again.  To take risks, to push myself, to achieve.  But it's as if I have forgotten how.  I am lost in the deluge of life and just getting through the day is a miracle unto itself.

I don't know where to begin.  It's like when I go to Target or IKEA.  I go with great anticipation, and then I find myself mired in the aisles, wondering where to find throw blankets, and what was it I really needed to get?  I am lost in the possibilities.

Perhaps that is what I'm facing now - losing myself in the possibilities, and never just committing and being BOLD.  I know what I need to do - to pick one thing - just one, and knock it off.  Then a second, then a third.  But it's hard to stay focused - not just on the task, but on this world.  It is a muscle that has atrophied, and I'm not sure how to get it back.

So how's that slump coming, slugger?

Maybe it's the slightly longer days, or that it's been three days without snow falling, but I keep thinking of spring, and of baseball.  Mind you, I'm not a jock, I don't follow any major league sports, and could care less about baseball.  Except that my husband was a great baseball player, and oldest has shown little interest in the sport.  But I digress.

The fabulous schedule I laid out in my previous post was printed, put into my to-do binder, and is now collecting dust.  Monday, I tried to write down all of the stuff that I do in an effort to feel better about the stuff I don't get done.  Tuesday, I did make a little headway on a huge project that is months overdue.  And yesterday, I finally got a job application finished.  Three months late.  Let's not go there.

Part of me wants to understand why I am in this slump.  Part of me doesn't really care and wants to just get moving again.  Typical to my scattered brain, I am once again reading about five different books at once.  One suggests that being happy is all about choosing to be happy.  Another says I am too analytical (I am, but I'm not sure that's changeable).  A third says I should have a mad, passionate affair with George Clooney (kidding - it's fiction but it is about mad passionate affairs).  While I would love to have a mad affair with Mr. Clooney, I don't think that is a. feasible, b. reasonable, c. an option.  Sorry, George.

What do I feel I need?  Time, and money.  Time to spend enjoying my kids instead of running around like a banshee.  Money, so my husband and I don't need to run around like banshees just to make the mortgage payment and save up for the orthodontia bills that are looming.  A job would be good too - but that's an entirely other post.  Sleep would be helpful, as would sex.

But the reality is, the only way I can de-slump is by putting one foot in front of the other and trying to make today a good day.  

Getting motivated

When a baseball player has trouble at bat, they call it a slump.  I've been in quite a slump for some time, and I'm not sure how to get out of it.  I've been reading articles about motivation, trying to think positive thoughts, but it's not working.  So the only thing I know left to do is to set a schedule (simple) and stick to it.

7:30 get up (soon to move to 7 as I want to squeeze in a workout).  Make coffee, check school lists, make lunches, make breakfast, get oldest out to bus.

8:30 beds and upstairs tidying.  Put away laundry, tidy rooms

9:30 coffee and to-do's for the day.  Focus on making progress on one long-term to-do, completing one annoying to-do, and getting a third done.  Plan day, plan dinner.

10:30 reading time and snuggles with my youngest

11:15-11:30 catch bus with youngest

11:30 Make a pot of tea and start on to-do's.

12:30 break for lunch and walk if it's not snowing or nasty

1 leave for work if M/W, otherwise do course prep and to-do's

2 break and relax if not M/W, otherwise work

3 get snack ready and sneak in a few to do's on non-workdays

3:30 boys home from school, spend 30 minutes with them with snack, talk about day, unpack backpacks, etc.

4:15 home from work on M/W.  Finish up some to-do's

5 start dinner, 5:30 dinner time, dishes, clean kitchen.

6:30 help oldest with homework

7 family reading time/bath/bedtime

8 finish list for day, wrap up and prep for next day.  Start laundry and hang on indoor line, stoke wood stove

9 read and then bed by 10:30.

I'm going to try it for one week.  The only thing that's been working for me lately is I've dropped 22 pounds on Weight Watchers, and if I can do that, I can do this.  I used to be highly motivated, but now the slightest disruption sends me off.  THIS I can and will do, at least for this week.  Wish me luck!

Mommy Guilt

For all of the guilt I heap upon myself, I should be Jewish.  Or Italian.  Or some sort of ethnicity.  I am the Queen of Guilt.  If I am sick and resting in bed, I think about the walls of laundry stacked around me, and my youngest who is downstairs watching his fourth straight episode of Backyardigans.  We should be reading A Christmas Carol, or singing songs, or playing a game.  I should be doing my work, or cleaning the house, making dinner - something productive.  Idle hands make... what is the phrase?

But then I recall why I am still in bed at 10a.  Perhaps it is because yesterday I went to the DMV (only to find it closed), shuttled children to school, went Christmas shopping for my mother-in-law's gift to my kids, visited said MIL, picked up the kids' photos, picked up a present for my husband, created and picked up the Christmas cards, stopped by Target to pick up prescriptions and a few necessities, and capped off the night with a visit to my father, who is in the hospital.  And then came home and graded a few papers after tucking the children into bed.  Oh, and did I mention the hours on the phone setting up doctors' appointments for said father, and calling around to six different stores to find a Pillow Pet for my oldest?

My mother had four children and did about half of that on a regular basis, but somehow she managed not to guilt herself into oblivion.  If I'm working I think about what a lousy mother I am.  If I'm not working, I think about how my career is in the toilet, we don't make enough money, and my husband is shouldering too much of the income burden.  We rush about, trying to plug holes in the walls, but still the water comes streaming through.

There is, clearly, a better way.  But I'll be darned if I can find it.  I continue to do the best I can but it's not nearly good enough, and it is making me miserable.  I pray and I pray but I cannot figure out where God wants me to be, what He wants me to do, and where I should focus.  If I could have one Christmas wish, it would be to reintroduce focus in my life.  Instead I am here, there, everywhere all at once, and nowhere at the same time.  Frazzled, tired, guilty as charged.

December Colds

A few weeks ago, I was sick.  I think.  I had a cough, headache, felt like crap - the usual "I'm doing too much and my body rebels" sick.  Then my oldest had it, then I had it again, then my youngest, now I have it again.... this is how things go in my house.  It's part of the pattern of winter.  Just like we will twist our hands in angst to see how far we can stretch the oil delivery, and watch UConn basketball on TV while decrying the high cost of cable.  This is what we do.  It's long and cold up here in the winter, and I inevitably get sick.

It's not a big deal - I go to bed and usually am up and at 'em the next day, hacking a loogie now and then.  Only last night I was waking myself up coughing and I woke hubby up, and when hubby is woken up now it is a PROBLEM THAT MUST BE SOLVED.  He declared today that I've been sick for forever (close, but not true) and that I should SEE SOMEONE.

Ok, let's think about this.  The last time he thought I should see someone was last week when my smashed finger wasn't getting any better.  I took an hour out of my crazy day to see my doctor, who ordered an x-ray and gave me a splint that was moderately better than the cheap one I bought at CVS.  So for $300, I got confirmation that it isn't broken.  Thanks.

I could call my doctor today - maybe she'd order a chest X-ray!  That would be at least $600 plus her visit to tell me that.... drum roll please... I'm exhausted and have a virus.  It's the virus that's "going around."  I should rest, drink fluids, and take it easy.

For once when I'm sick I would just like to be able to rest, take it easy, and not have my family pile on guilt about me being out of commission for a day or two.  I realize it is out of concern, and I have my own issues about sickness, but still!  Make me some darned soup, bring up a carafe of herbal tea and a box of tissues, and let me sleep while you watch the kids.  Or the kids watch Netflix.  Whichever - I just want to sleep.

I have my own issues with being sick.  Growing up, I always got sick on the first day of every vacation. Which royally sucked when we got out of school on Christmas Eve.  I burn myself out, and then I pay.  Forty years of that has taught me a. don't tell people you're sick, b. blame it on allergies and c. sleep when you can.

For whatever reason I am a full-blazes or nothing kind of girl.  It's that passion and fire that my husband fell in love with.  I don't know how else to be.  As much as I try to even things out, I still wind up pushing myself too hard, and then paying the price.

And the price right now is a day in bed with Theraflu and the humidifier.  

Hours and hours

After he left, the hours at night became my solace.  I would wash my face, brush teeth, brush my hair a hundred times, and slip into bed with a pile of books and a cup of tea.  I had no one to answer to, no one to judge my sleep or lack thereof.  I would read for hours, or just minutes.  My routine became a comfort, a sliver of solitude where I could hide away from my roommates, put away the textbooks, and delve deeply into who I was, and who I wanted to be.

Now nighttime is the only time I have in an empty, quiet house.  The children and husband are sleeping and I come alive.  I putter about, looking at things undone.  Homework not completed, lunch boxes with old scraps of food, projects left scattered about the kitchen table, dishes in the sink, mail piled on the hutch, big piles of laundry, of work, of obligations left unattended.  I am reluctant to go to bed.  When I close my eyes, the guilt I feel is blissfully short, thanks to Ambien and Klonopin.  But it is still there, waiting for me. My patient husband is waiting, asleep, but he glances at the clock when I climb in next to him.  I feel as though I have failed again.  I am not a good wife and mother.  There is work left undone - always undone - and if I were better I would have had a plan, I would have completed it all.  I could be Donna Reid; instead I am Peg Bundy without the attitude and leopard-skin pants.

And yet I think back to my own mother - did she have it all covered?  Didn't she spend her hours playing bridge, bowling, having coffee with friends, playing tennis?  Wasn't she always on the go, leaving us to figure things out on our own?   Dinner was always on the table when my father was home, that I know.  And she was always there - if not reading the paper or otherwise engaged.

There is no book, you know.  No book that tells you how to live your life.  When to get up in the morning, what to eat, what to cook, when to find a moment to work out, or just breathe.  Instead I live in fits and starts and I miss those days twenty years ago when I could find that comfort in routine.  Then I was a young monk-like student.  Now I am a frenetic housewife/part-time teacher/full-time mom putting out fire after fire.

There is no answer either.  You can pray all you want, but God doesn't tell you what to do.  He doesn't tell you that the reason you jump from fire to fire is not because you have to, but because you don't know what to do when you stop.  When we stop, we breathe, we sleep with the aids of modern medicine, but we never really let the space of the hours seep in.  When a thought, profound or simple, sneaks into our brain, we quickly file it away for later, and never return.  It is our own escapism, and it has been this way for lifetimes.