Buckets of Rain

All I wanted today was to go to yoga class. That's all. To have from 9 a.m. until 10:30 a.m. just for me, my body, and my mental health.

That didn't happen because I woke up at 5 a.m. with a head cold and found Scott awake. He had to wake up at 3 a.m. and handle some work problem and then couldn't get back to sleep. So, we talked until about 6:30 or 7 a.m. and then both tried to go back to sleep. Both boys came in our room fighting around 8 or so, but I couldn't roust myself. When I finally got up at 8:30 a.m., I came downstairs to find my living room covered in Rice-fuckin'-Krispies where Beckett brought the box in the living room and dumped them out. Then, Brendan, from the moment I woke up was pestering me to help him find one of his Ben 10 characters, charge his DS, correct his brother for whatever it is he's doing wrong, use my computer, get him a snack (while I'm making his breakfast). And all the while, he's pestering me, his little brother is in the background, jabbering. Constantly. Not a moment of fucking silence.

I love my family.

But right now....all I want is to go to yoga class.

Hold On

What a random day I've had.

When I got up this morning I was overwhelmingly sad about all the conflict I've been having with Brendan lately. Is five the new two? I have spoken with some of the other moms of kids in his class and they all seem to be dealing with similar issues.

I went online and did some reading and came up with some new ideas for how to handle some of the stuff we're dealing with. I decided that I am not going to turn this food thing into a huge battle. I love the ideas that Jen and Just Me suggested. We've actually been saving his dinner and telling him he can have that, but he whines and cries and many a night, I forget to save it and throw it out, but at least we're getting better at it.

Anyway, I was just starting to think I could get a handle on this stuff when I got a call from Brendan's school saying he was sick and I should come get him. When I got there, he was sobbing because his stomach hurt and he could barely walk. I had to ask another parent to carry Beckett back out to the car while I carried Brendan. All I could think was appendicitis.

I went to the pediatrician's office which is two minutes away, but they were at lunch and I had to wait 30 min. for their return. By the time the pediatrician got there, he didn't hurt anymore. After examining him, she guessed either a colon spasm, but felt like he didn't have the right combination of symptoms or issues; or kidney stones, but again, not the right list of other complaints.

We spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch reading books and watching TV and playing Matchbox cars and Bionicles. It was the most pleasant afternoon we've had in a few weeks because I wasn't trying to juggle kids, chores, work, cooking dinner, etc. I opted for a very easy dinner of steak, baked potatoes, and oven roasted veggies and encouraged the boys to play with their cars in the kitchen while I cooked.

I had loaded the dishwasher with the day's accumulation of dishes plus the leftover pans from last night's baking adventures and started running it only to look over and see a couple of sippy cups that needed washing. So, I opened the door to the dishwasher which is supposed to stop running when the door is opened. Only that didn't happen. It kept running and I got quite a good splashing. Of course, because it was spraying, I couldn't get the drawer to slide back in and get the door closed. It took me several seconds to think to turn it off. By then, I was soaked from the knees down and quite damp every where else and the floor was covered in water. Fortunately, at that point the boys were playing elsewhere.

Any other day, I would have freaked out and been really pissed off. But today.... Today, it just made me laugh. Maybe because I was so relieved Brendan wasn't seriously ill. Maybe because I was actively trying to be patient and not let anything bother me. Maybe because I kept imagining what it must have looked like from another perspective.

Who knows? I guess it doesn't really matter. I've lived to fight another day as they say. Or preferably, not fight, but enjoy the day and those around me.

I can't help but wonder if the last few weeks have seemed so god-awful because I stopped taking the antidepressant I was on for ppd. I don't want to be someone who can't function without a pill. I don't think it's wrong if that's what you need. It just makes me sad to think of having to live that way. I want to be able to manage on my own, to learn how to control my own emotions without being numbed to them.

Whatever the case may be, it felt nice to manage today. To turn it around and feel like I could make a change.Hold

Flow

I have a short list of things I want to accomplish this week and I can't seem to focus on it.

I spent a good portion...okay...ALL of yesterday running around doing errands. By the time I got showered and dressed and out the door with Beckett yesterday it was almost 11 a.m. We went to Big Lots looking for Easter eggs for Brendan's class egg hunt today; found storage baskets for our new basement playroom that we painted on Sunday; drove to another part of town and picked up some stuff I had ordered last week; shipped a package and faxed a form; ate lunch; came home and collected all our books and videos that were due at the library; picked up Brendan from school; went to the library; went to Target; came home. By then it was 4 p.m. The boys played while I cooked their dinner and wrapped a present.

We had a babysitter come at 6 p.m. I put both Beckett and Brendan in bed around 7 p.m. and then Scott and I went out to dinner with our friend Barrett to celebrate her birthday. We went to an amazing restaurant. It was definitely an adventure. We were home by 9:30.

Brendan awoke around 1 a.m. coughing and ended up in our bed. But then Scott wasn't able to sleep and we ended up talking until 3, I think. Then, Brendan woke up again around 5 a.m. coughing and I moved him back into his room, gave him his inhaler again, and tried to sleep in his room but he kept stealing the covers and complaining that his legs hurt. I tried massaging them, but then Beckett woke up. I got him settled back down and then it was almost 6 a.m. so I moved Brendan and myself to the living room, put on Cartoon Network and made a pot of coffee. I dozed off and on while reading all of YOUR blogs until it was time to dress Brendan for school. Needless to say, we were late.

I have an article due next Monday and I need to follow up with two other potential clients.

I also want to put our rec room/playroom back together now that the paint is dry because that is also where I have created an office space for myself and I'd like to work down there.

And did I mention that my ear still hurts? And I still can't hear? It's driving me nuts! I am so ready to pull a Van Gogh or something similar. I'm definitely calling the doctor today about both myself and Brendan. I was hoping to avoid this since I have spent about $300 in co-pays for myself and my children this month. Of course, I'm thankful that's all it was. I am extremely grateful that we have insurance. That said, we don't have the hospital bill yet. It's possible insurance didn't cover some portion of it.

Enough rambling. On with the show...

I feel like I've just awoken or broken free of a fog that was shrouding everything I've done for the last 36 hours or so. After getting very little sleep on Valentine's night, I had another rough day and night of it all yesterday. Thankfully, school was out so I didn't have to rush to be anywhere and was able to sleep until 7:30 when Beckett was up for good. I also had the blood drive yesterday, which went well. When I was there from noon until 2 p.m. we had already collected 20 pints and that wasn't counting the five or so of us who were there at the same time. Not too shabby.

It was kind of a zoo with kids all over the waiting room. The Red Cross provided a cake as well as the normal Nutter Butters (my favorite thing about giving blood!) and Cheese Nips, and there were actually people who had just come to donate who ended up doing it in Claire's honor.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I've never reacted well to giving blood. I usually bruise severely, as in from the elbow to the shoulder. This time, I barely bruised at all, but it took over 30 minutes for them to drain me and they had to keep readjusting the needle. My arm hurts from the elbow to my fingertips, especially when I clinch my fingers for any reason. I was also exhausted. I felt as if I could just fall asleep standing up last night. So, naturally neither boy slept well although Scott helped me go to bed early. The boys or at least one of them was up at 1 a.m.; at 3:00 or so I had to get Beckett a bottle. Then, Brendan ended up in our bed and at 4:00 a.m. started whining because he was congested. I moved him to his bed and tried to sleep with him, but he woke up whining again at 5:30 and stayed up. I tried sleeping in the recliner in the living room, but he kept talking to me, so finally I left him there watching Banana Splits or whatever other nonsense is on at that time of the morning and went back to bed until 6:30 when Beckett started crying. I tried to ignore him, hoping he'd find his way back to sleep, but Brendan showed up at my bedside to tell me his brother was crying and that I needed to get him up. Finally, I caved in and cried while I was changing Beckett's diaper because I haven't felt this tired since Beckett was born and I had yelled at Brendan to leave me alone and I hate the way being exhausted changes my personality and makes me mean.

Thankfully, Beckett went down for a nap around 10 a.m. and while Brendan watched a video and played trains, I got an 1 1/2 nap while Scott ran interference for me. Then, later both boys took afternoon naps and I had a luxurious soak in a hot bath using all the delightful Aveda products Scott lavished me with for Valentine's Day.

I felt like a new woman. Now, both boys are asleep; Scott and I are watching the NBA Skills competition; I'm cozy in my new jammies; and hopefully tomorrow will be a new day.

What Goes Down, Must Go Up

The problem with antidepressants is that when you've been on them long enough and start to feel great over the course of enough months, you then forget you need them because you're not focused on making yourself feel better. You just do feel better. Well, then you forget to take them one day. And a second day. And maybe even a third day and you still feel great. But then, you remember you haven't taken them and so you take your medicine, but by the point it's too late and you're going down.

Maybe not for long. But you are.

My panic and easy trigger last night is evidence of my forgetting to take my medicine for a few days. Even though I took it Thursday and Friday after having forgotten to take it Monday through Wednesday, it was too late. Being aware of what's going on though is helpful. At least for me. And it allows me to exert a little bit of control over my emotions because I'm able to tell myself that I wouldn't feel this if I hadn't forgotten my medication.

In fact, I already feel like I'm back on track. Hopefully, I didn't go too far off the rails and make too many others around me unhappy.

Can't Complain

Every time I start complaining lately, I find myself feeling guilty and horrible. When I get angry because my kids are being too loud and I can't hear myself think and all I want is a moment of silence, I find myself thinking about how there are so many parents out there who would give anything to hear the shouts and screams of their little ones, but can't because they've died of some terrible disease. When I get irritated because I'm trying to do something and Brendan wants to talk and talk and talk about some cartoon or a toy or something I'm not all that interested in at the moment, I think about all the parents of autistic kids who are trapped in their minds and can't talk at all. Lately, my life is an endless cycle of guilt.

I think bad thoughts about someone, judge the person for how I think she has hurt me or someone else, and then I think well, I should put myself in her shoes. What would I do if our roles were reversed? It's constant for me.

Whatever negative feelings I have, I immediately feel guilty for feeling them and feel they are either unjustified or someone else, some better person, wouldn't be feeling the way I feel.

Ugh! When did I become this neurotic freak who just isn't able to simply BE?

Brendan told me yesterday – after I asked him to forgive me for getting frustrated with him for not listening to me for the nth time – that he forgave me and that he always forgives everybody. And when he said it, he meant it. And he was so filled with goodness and kindness...I was broken-hearted by how much I love this kid and I just wish I knew how to be the perfect mother for him and his brother. How to be the perfect wife for Scott. The perfect friend.

I guess I just feel like I fuck up over and over again, let the people I love down by not having the time or energy for them I know they really need. Not being who or what they need. I always feel like I'm spread so thin. Other women do it and do more. And certainly with far more grace and far less anger and guilt and fear. I just keep thinking if I can just find the right magic bean to figure out who it is I am meant to be I can make everyone, including myself, happy and loved, and I can be successful and have it all – happy marriage, happy kids, happy friendships, happy, successful career, money, wonderful experiences, health, energy. I guess I want what most everyone else wants.

Of course, my first thought as I write that is how selfish I am for wanting those things. That all I should really want is world peace, for the poor and hungry of the world to be taken care of, blah, blah, blah.

I guess I just need to accept that this is where I am now, this is what I feel, and I'm not the Devil for feeling what I feel or thinking what I think. I simply AM.

Birdhouse in Your Soul

Well, I certainly had a bee in my bonnet today. I not only produced multiple blog entries, but wrote a lengthy apology to the MOMS Club membership in my chapter for blowing up via e-mail at one of our members.

Mothers judging mothers happens to be one of my pet peeves. Yesterday, one of our members, L., sent an e-mail to our group asking for advice on getting her son to take a pacifier. Several of us responded with our advice and then one of our new members responded in what I perceived as a judgmental tone asking why L. wanted her son to take a pacifier. I kind of went off on her. Just a little. Especially after she wrote that L. was the best pacifier for her child.

I said that L. was a human being, not a pacifier and that the AAP now recommends the use of pacifiers to help prevent SIDS.

I am totally in favor of breastfeeding, but I don't think that every time your baby cries for no obvious reason (i.e. isn't hungry), you should pop a boob in his mouth. I believe in feeding on demand and I believe in consoling your baby, but I don't believe that mommy is the human pacifier. Sometimes, especially when they have more than one child, mommies need to be able to put junior down for a minute to tend to the needs of other family members. Or, God forbid, their own needs.

Anyway, I said all this rather brusquely, feeling defensive for my friend's right to choose to give her son a pacifier without being judged by the Attachment Parenting and Breastfeeding police. Unfortunately, the mom who questioned the use of the pacifier was even more sensitive and decided she did not fit into our group.

So, I offered my apologies with a statement about how no one in our group had ever judged anyone else for her parenting choices. Hopefully she will decide she can fit in after all.

On another topic, I just want to clarify that I realize I'm also not winning any Pulitzers for my blogging, but I'm also not writing for a premier news magazine. Just to be clear on that.

Crazy

For anyone who doubts that lack of sleep can make you crazy, I give you the events of this morning as an example.

Admittedly, my lack of sleep is exacerbated by a level of stress I haven't felt in a while. However, not having gotten more than 4 hours or so a night of uninterrupted sleep since last Thursday has certainly made me a little crazy.

Anyway, as Scott was leaving for work this morning, suddenly the thought of being home alone in my messy house with two sick children who will whine a lot because they are sick was just more than I could stand and I ran out of the house behind Scott for one last hug, in tears, begging him to take me with him. I was only half joking.

It hasn't been as bad as I thought it might. I did have to fight Brendan a little on the albuterol and benadryl, but eventually got him to take them. Both boys napped for a couple of hours and I did a little work that needed to be done for my new client, and took care of a couple of items for Beckett's birthday party and now this.

Hopefully things don't fall apart in the afternoon.

That Was Your Mother

With both boys in bed (although admittedly, Beckett, who is cutting two new bottom teeth, is whining in his sleep and keeping me on edge in case he needs me to pick him up), Scott not home, and dinner in the oven, I thought I'd have something amazing to say.

Yet, the only thing that springs to mind is the fact that I realize I have achieved the ability to psychoanalyze myself. I'm guessing most of us have that ability but may not realize it.

Tonight, I was beating myself up for getting angry and frustrated with Brendan for refusing to take his medicine. He has the croup and the doc prescribed an Albuterol inhaler for him. She also told me to give him Benadryl for his runny nose and to help him sleep so that I could get some sleep after three nights in a row with barely any of the sweet stuff. Yesterday and last night he amazed me with how readily he let me administer both medications plus Tylenol Meltaways. He did better than he has ever done at taking medicine. He slept most of the night in his own bed, then after being awake for about an hour or so, came into our bed around 4 a.m. and slept there until 9 a.m. When he awoke he was a little whiny, but after a bath, he was practically his normal chipper, super active self. And he wasn't coughing. Yay.

It all fell apart about 5 p.m.

So, now, picking up where I left off last night at 8:19, I have been awake for most of the time since then. Scott got home, we had dinner, talked a bit, and then all hell broke loose. Teething baby awoke around 10 and was up until midnight at which point Brendan woke up crying and was awake every hour from that point on until 6:00 a.m. when he finally went to sleep and slept until almost 9 a.m.

Much of the night was spent battling him to use the inhaler and take his Benadryl. I was, at one point, wondering where he got all the extra arms and legs he was punching me with as I attempted to administer the inhaler. And I was furious.

I realized.... And this was the original point of my post...that Brendan's refusal to take medicine and his willingness to put up a physical fight infuriates me so much because it reminds me of my mother. She was, as I have mentioned before, a juvenile diabetic and had been on insulin since she was 13 years old. When I was 9, I learned how to give her shots because she would sometimes just decide she was tired of taking her insulin. I learned how to force open her mouth and give her sugar or orange juice when she was in insulin shock (low blood sugar). I learned that a knee in the chest can hold a person down, pretty much, unless she's so outraged and messed up by her illness that she doesn't recognize her own daughter and throws her to the ground. I learned that if you can tell that's about to happen, a knee to the throat can stop it.

What I learned last night as I was about to put my knee into my son's chest to force him to take his medicine is how angry I still am at my mom for being such a fucking brat and baby all her life. Just take the goddamned medicine. Nobody cares that you wish you were normal. So do the rest of us. Fuck you.

Just try to be normal. Is it that fucking hard? Take your goddamned medicine and don't expect your child to be the adult! Nobody wants to be sick and if you just take the fucking medicine you can be relatively normal. You jackass.

And so, I realized last night that a lot of my frustration and anger at Brendan for not getting with the program has roots that run long and deep. I just want him to take his medicine and be normal. I want him to learn that there are rules and that if you just follow the rules, life is so much easier. And happier. For everyone.

I got really angry at my Uncle T. a couple of weeks ago because I told him some Brendan anecdote and he said that Brendan sounded just like my mom. I was so mad I wanted to hang up on him, but I love him so I didn't. But last night I saw it for myself, whether it's really there or imagined from too little sleep. And it just makes me angrier. I've never wanted to break someone's spirit before, but I cannot tolerate a child who is as selfish and self-centered as my mother was. My grandparents never dared to break her; my grandfather spoiled and coddled her because she was sick. And I paid for that. I'll be damned if I'm going to let this child turn out the way that she did.

Sick or not, he's going to start towing the line.

Friends to Go

Well...now I know how the first runner-up in the Miss America pageant feels. Pretty good, but not as good as she would if she got the crown.

Seriously, I have no complaints today about my experience in the Diva for a Day competition. I had a ball. It was about the craziest thing I've done since Capping in college when my friends and I were forced by the seniors to sing On the Road Again but in the voices of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

The contest was a lot of fun. It was held at Shout in Midtown. There were eight contestants, all with really great reasons for deserving to be treated to a little luxury in life.

The first part of the competition was Diva Jeopardy. The categories were: fashion, cosmetic surgery, celebrity news, cosmetics, potpourri, Sex in the City, and jewelry. I did really well, only missing one question. Of course, while it was going on I didn't realize I was doing so well. I also felt like mysterious divine forces were at work for me, because almost all of the questions I got were things I had specifically researched because I thought they might be on there. So, when I was asked who Jackie Kennedy's exclusive designer was while she was First Lady, I was prepared with Oleg Cassini.

It was also fortuitous that one of the bits of SITC trivia fed to me by Lauren and Barrett before the game began was the name of Miranda's baby. That was the last question of the game and when the judge read it, I simply couldn't believe it! How lucky is that?

Winning at that portion of the contest, meant that I was one of three to advance to the second round which consisted of walking gracefully with a book on my head (hell no, I can't do that!), lip synching and dancing to a song of my selection, and then an interview question where they asked each of us why we deserved to win.

I chose the Madonna song Material Girl and did a pretty good job, I think.

I felt as if I pulled a Miss South Carolina on the interview question. It felt like I was rambling incoherently because I was trying to figure out what I could say that could possibly compete with the statement by the girl who went before me. She talked about how she's a breast cancer survivor and all I could think was a) I can't compete with that and b) I don't want to. Just give her the crown, man. She deserves it.

And so it was.

I had a ball and I honestly feel like I did win because I had the biggest crowd there to support me. I had about a dozen of my friends there, all wearing boas and with signs they made, cheering me on. Scott wore a fuzzy purple hat and was as supportive and loving of his crazy wife as anyone could hope her husband would be. The only other time I have felt so special and loved by so many people was on my wedding day. It's a special and amazing and humbling feeling and it means so much more to me than any prize ever could. I am a lucky girl, indeed.

Trying My Luck

As if my life weren't strange and exciting and wonderful enough right now...

I have been chosen as one of eight finalists for Dave FM's Diva for a Day contest. Dave is a local radio station that I listen to in the mornings when I'm taking Brendan to school. They have a couple of really fun DJs whom I like. I just really enjoy the station when I'm not listening to my iPod. I especially like a midday segment that Mara Davis does called Radio Free Lunch. It's a theme hour, a different theme everyday with listener suggestions, and always really fun to hear. I've actually contributed a song suggestion to the show. (One day the theme was about obnoxious people using their cell phones and I suggested the 'Til Tuesday song Voices Carry.)

The contest required entrants to explain, in 100 words or less, why they felt they deserved to be Diva for a Day. I heard about the contest Wednesday morning and the deadline for entries was Friday. I immediately forgot about it, but remembered right after getting up on Thursday morning. So, in the brief silence before both boys awoke that morning, I sat down and entered the contest. I wrote on the fly and while I remember the theme and gist of what I wrote, I can't repeat it as eloquently.

The second part of the contest will pit the eight finalists against one another in a Jeopardy-like competition on fashion, makeup, and "Diva-y" things according to Mara. She actually called me in person to tell me and when I answered the phone and she said, "Hi, Dawn. This is Mara Davis from Dave FM," it took a minute for me to realize why she was calling. Like she just calls me up all the time to chat. Her son just turned one, we both love music, so theoretically, we could have a lot in common.

There's also a Diva Olympics portion of the contest, I think she said. Of course, I have no clue what that will entail. I'm a bit nervous. But, my friend Barrett made me an awesome, fantastic, super-cool Diva study guide. I'm pleased that I knew most of what was on there, meaning, I have a chance anyway.

So, cross your fingers for me. It sure would be fun to win. Of course, just having this experience is fun and exciting. I've decided I'm going to simply enjoy it rather than judge myself for doing it.

All This and More

So much to write about and so little time. Hopefully I will have time for a couple of detailed posts later to cover the following topics:

Why and how I've been converted to the darkside

Beckett's burgeoning skills and our plans for his birthday party

Writing projects (and how you might be able to help)

Brendan's new interest in reading and all the cool things he knows

Halloween fun

Right now, I have so much going on, I feel as if I am in a whirlpool, getting sucked deeper and deeper down, far away from a place where I feel like I'm in control of anything in my life. I wish I could stop time and just get it together for a minute.

Revelling

It felt as if last week flew by, but looking back on it – and realizing I haven't posted in over a week – I realize just how long it was.

Brendan attended Vacation Bible School at our church from Monday through Friday. On Monday, he was really upset and didn't want to go, but the next morning was out of bed and at my side before I awoke, telling me he wanted to go to church school.

I thought I'd get a lot done, having 3 hours every morning to do things, but the time burned by in a flash. The wedding I was helping plan and direct was on Saturday, so I had several things to take care of with regard to that. Our friends Mike and Becca came to town from DC where Mike teaches at American University. They came on Wednesday night, stayed Thursday, then Friday drove to Athens to see Mike's brother.

On Friday, Scott's mom came to town to help with the kids while I was working. Also, because we know the groom's familly, Scott was invited to the wedding Saturday night, so of course, we needed help with the kids then.

Scott's mom left yesterday and Mike returned to the spend a few more days with us, while Becca took a train home to be at work this morning.

Mike is going to play with Scott at his shows at Swallow. I can't wait.

Of course, I'm so exhausted from the wedding that I can barely walk. My legs hurt so bad today. Worse than yesterday. Also, despite having worn comfortable yet stylish shoes, my feet have blisters in four places. I have shin splints, and my thighs and hamstrings are killing me. And, the front part of my foot/leg where the foot connects to the leg. Very strange.

It's all because it was an outdoor wedding in a gorgeous garden at a local hotel. The hotel is at the top of a hill, the garden about 1/4 mile at the bottom of the hill. I literally made the walk up and down the hill about 20 times running supplies down, helping the florist, helping the minister, just getting everything ready.

It was worth it. The day went great. The weather cooperated with a brief rain shower starting just as people were leaving the wedding site. It was over in less than 5 minutes.

There were only two minor problems, but nothing disastrous. The bride's grandmother who was in a wheelchair decided she had to use the restroom 2 minutes before we were ready to start. The wedding site is not easily wheelchair accessible, at least not from the hotel itself. So, I had to run across the street to an office building, see if it was open and ask if we could use the bathroom. Get two groomsmen to wheel her over there, have someone help her, let the wedding party know what was going on. Kind of a pain, but certainly not the worst thing that could happen.

The other thing was that I couldn't get the ceremonial candle lighter (that was way too big) to stay lit. I was re-lighting it for the third time as the mother-of-the-groom was walking down the aisle. Yikes.

It all worked out in the end and was a sweet, lovely ceremony. I had fun and I learned a few things and I would definitely do it again.

Despite what my legs are telling me.