Trying to Take Back Christmas: Grieving and Changing Traditions (Another U-Turn)

Every year when Christmas rolls around, it's like I'm on a zipline that's about to go off the cliff. I'm deathly afraid of heights, so it's not something I would do willingly. But that's just it, Christmas comes every year and every year I face the traumas around my daughter's death one week before Christmas. So here I am, strapped to this zipline at the top of the cliff and Time pushes me off and all I can do is close my eyes, hang on with all my might, and wait for it to be over. And just like every year, when it is over, I open my eyes to a mess of Christmas decorations that I get to tear down with all the bitterness of my heart. 

Believe it or not, Christmas used to be my favorite. I couldn't wait for Christmas to come. I decked my halls with a lot more than holly! Red and green colors would burst from every corner of the house. But the grieving journey has other plans for me. For whatever cosmic reason, I decided to change my color scheme that year to blue and white. The Christmas tree hung tons of blue and white balls and it was beautiful. It was one week before Christmas, we were at my mom's house putting together Christmas baskets with goodies. My daughter Sarah died during her nap in my mom's room that afternoon. After we got back from the hospital, without her, I spent the whole week in that very room, breathing in what was left of her spirit. The day after Christmas, we finally came home for the first time. Sarah's nickname was "blueberry" because of the blue hemangioma on her nose and our tree with all it's blue balled ornaments, looked like a blueberry bush. At that moment, I saw it as this beautiful message that "Sarah was still among us for Christmas." That was my beautiful reminder. For years, I would put all those blue ornaments on the tree, faithfully bringing her message back to us. It was comforting. 

But then something switched in me. I got really sick and extra sensitive to everything around me. I stopped celebrating her birthday the way I normal would. All the things I did over the years to help me cope with Sarah's absence were now incredibly hurtful. I had needed those things during those years, and now I didn't. I needed something else now. I'm still sorting through certain triggers around Christmas, but a big one this year were those damn blue ball ornaments on my tree that no longer made me feel her, they made me feel her absence all the more. They took me back to that awful day when we came home for the very first time with empty empty arms. Those balls reminded me now of my emptiness, that hole that no God can ever fill until I see her again. 

So after talking with my wonderful therapist, I decided to not only take them off of my tree, but to destroy them. Just me and my husband set out to destroy this awful trigger. I stood at the tree and bagged up all the blue balled ornaments of that awful day and started towards the back door. But I was stopped by my 12 year old son Isaiah. The only child that was actually here when we lost her.

"What are you doing with those?" He asked me, staring me down. 

"I'm taking them down and getting rid of them this year." I tried to be delicate with my voice. 

"No! No! No! Put them back! Put them back!" tears were welling up in his eyes. The desperateness in his voice broke my heart and I started crying with him.

I didn't even think about his feelings with these.  "I'm sorry sweetie, but I have to do this. They are too painful to keep. This is something I have to do." 

"Put them back, please, put them back!" He just kept repeating it through his tears. After that I took him to a private place so we could talk and it was decided, after both of us bawling, that we would put a mini tree up in his room and he can keep one single ball from the bag. As a mother who understands that he has his own unique journey of grief, I had to compromise in this.  

So with my heart now torn to shreds, I went to the garage with my husband who had a tarp down and ready and we smashed the shit out of those ornaments. They were not easy to break either, because they were plastic. Especially the ones that we more solid plastic. It made us angry that they weren't glass that would break easily. But that's just it, isn't it? It's not easy removing triggers from your life. I can smash these ornaments, but the traumatic memories they triggered will always be there. I felt like this was our ceremony of trying to "take back Christmas." This time of year will always be hard, but I want to love Christmas again. I can't promise that this will do it, but it will definitely help. And it's already easier to breathe without staring at those ornaments all day, every day. 

My encouragement to you, if you struggle with grief this holiday season, is don't let traditions prevail if they start hurting you. My husband even added, "Well, it's like we always kept putting those ornaments up for tradition so we don't offend ourselves." Allow things to change as you change. It's okay to give yourself permission to do so. Life changes us so much as we continue to grow and experience new things, new trials, and new victories. Let these traditions change with you as you need them to, in order to cope the only way you know how. 

~Love yourself enough to prove it. 

Open Letter to the Chronically Ill Parent: "There is no replacement for you!"

I am so honored to share my space here with a very good friend of mine Melissa Glennon. We knew each other from church years ago, but have recently reconnected since I've been chronically ill. She's married with a quiver full of children. She is so faithful, always asking me how I'm doing and praying for me. Her friendship has meant the world to me. The unique thing about her is that she grew up with a chronically ill parent, who still battles with it today. I've talked to many chronically ill people, and the common "woe" (besides the obvious pain and suffering) is our "mommy guilt" or "daddy guilt." The guilt that comes when we can't do certain things and our children also suffer the consequences.  I'd bring my "mommy guilt" cry to Melissa and she'd encourage me like no one else could. I found myself using her words to help me comfort others. Then I thought... "I should just have her write an open letter for me to share." And of course, she's amazing so she wrote this very sweet open letter to her dad, who suffers with chronic pain. I'm so thankful for her letter, it encourages me as I continue to raise my own children in the dynamic of chronic illness. My hope is that you find comfort in her unique perspective also.

Melissa writes:

"Dad,

  

   You carried me on your shoulders. I distinctly remember the flip flop my stomach made when you swung me into the air and placed me up to see the world. You took us fishing and always baited my hook. You played catch with me, you wrestled with us, and built us snow forts. You led our family to know, love, and trust in God. I was loved deeply and I knew it!

   As I reflect on my childhood and growing up with you having chronic pain the most striking revelation is that my memories aren't centered around pain. I don't remember many moments where I felt that my dad was different or our family life was affected by the pain. It was simply the way things were and I knew no different. We knew your limitations and lived our lives accordingly.

We all believed that your first back surgery would "fix" you. Your pain seemed less for awhile and we were all so happy! But then came another surgery and another and another... And your pain never got better. I don't remember you complaining about the pain but I also don't remember asking you how you were doing. I am sorry! I am sorry that I was selfish. I remember thinking at times, "He could do it if he really wanted to." Or "He doesn't feel that bad." I wouldn't be able to empathize with you until years and years later.

   I remember you going to the Mayo Clinic to take pain management classes and it being a defeating time for you. Living with the pain seemed like the only option left. I remember being sad that there seemed to be nothing left to fix you.

   Your faith in God never wavered. And if it did, I didn't see it.  I still look at you today as a man of strong faith and that is something that has comforted me my entire life.

   Fast forward, a decade or two, and I am pregnant with my fourth child. Unbeknownst to me, I have a rib out of place and I am in horrible pain. I am unable to turn my neck. Pain shoots down my arm and I can't sleep or eat. After three weeks of pain and stress, a heavenly chiropractor finds the problem and my pain is gone. It was the closest thing I had ever gone through to where I could relate to what you have dealt with for the past 25 years. There really are no words to describe the sadness I feel for your daily affliction. For years, I have prayed that God would heal you, completely, "Take away his pain." One day while praying this it hit me, "What if God's way of taking his pain away would be to take him to heaven?" It stopped me cold. I am not ready to lose my father, and the selfish part of me wanted you to stay... Even if that meant you lived in pain. Again, I am sorry for my selfishness but I love you.  I will continue to pray for complete healing and trust that God's will be done.

   Thank you for loving me, my mother and my siblings, so completely through all your pain. I know you feel bad that you can't do more for us, but I never saw it like that. You have always been more than enough for me. I love you Dad!

To all parents out there with chronic pain: Thank you for loving your children through your pain!! There is no need to feel guilty about what you think we are missing out on. We would rather have you in our lives than any thing else. There is no replacement for you. We love you!"


This was very sweet. I wanted to share her dad's response when she sent him this very letter. 

"Melissa,  I think this is an excellent letter and I hope other parents out there have a daughter like you!  After being injured in Vietnam I learned to deal with pain, so I had a lot of time to prepare me for what lay ahead for me.  You don't deal with chronic pain alone and I'm thankful for my prayer group at work, the Mayo Pain Clinic and of course your mom ( my best support person ), who knows better than any of you what chronic pain is all about without having it.  There is no need for you to ever feel guilty, after all life is what molds our character and I think we're all hanging in there as a family!  Thanks for taking the time & sharing your thoughts.  Love, Dad "

Mastery: Letting go of being free of your struggles

In a crazy cycle recently, (where my depression spirals because I rarely feel well, making me crumple in a fetal position, crying, wanting my life to be over because I feel so worthless) I came to a certain resolve. I wanted to be free. Free of the depression, free of the stress, of the health issues. I would plead to God to take it away, but still I struggled... every day... trying to find the reason why I want keep fighting, even though I don't feel well.

Can we ever really be free? Free of illness? Chronic illness? Free of mental issues? Depression? Anxiety? Anger? Debilitating conditions?

Scriptures say “we are free.” What the hell does that even mean? I mean, let’s talk spiritually speaking here. We are stuck in this world, this fallen world. Jesus came and said the words Himself, “if the Son sets you free, you are free indeed.” But in context, He was talking about sin though. We are free from the bondage of our own sin. (note to self: that doesn't mean the sin against us from others and obviously, this didn't stop the consequences of the physical fallen world, since we still get sick and die, BUT...) We are made spiritually new. (And when we rise, we will be made physically new) We will be found clean in the face of God when we meet Him, because of the freedom we have received from the Son. Does this give me hope? Yes.

But, but, but…..

What about today? What about now? I don’t mean to sound impatient, but not only have I been dealing with this illness, this depression for so long now but…. Where is the respite? I believe in miracles, but after watching Dad die of cancer, I learned that miracles come in different forms and not always the way you want them to happen.

I went through a serious bout of more depression recently that circled around that fact that I may never be free of this illness, this depression, this fatigue cycle. Once again, God was just a figure standing there with His back turned away from me. “Not this one. Not this time” was what I kept hearing in response for my pleading with God to release me from this struggle. I didn't understand why. I still don’t understand why. But something had to give. I wanted to give up but that’s where it got complicated. Can’t give up something that is in you, something that you are dealt, something that you've lost. Giving up was impossible, unless I was willing to kill myself. Sure. I thought about it. I thought about releasing my husband from a sick wife, releasing my kids from a sick mother. But then… I’m too much of a pansy and well… my babies are… babies. I couldn't even think about doing that to them. It was devastating losing my dad at 16, I didn't want to put them through something like that. No. I wanted to live… But I want to LIVE. Like really live, like tear up the yard because all my plans are ridiculous and so…. *Kailan*. Like paint and decorate weird things on my walls for company to find as they creep through our house. Like not only school the kids in just the basics of education, but really take them out and let them experience things to the fullest. Like actually play with them again. You know? LIVE!

But if I can’t be free…..where’s my hope in that? Sure, I may get better some day. I may not. But what I do know is that “today” I must.

I started reflecting on something then. God told Cain that he must master his anger. (I use this lesson a lot in parenting) Was Cain wrong to be angry about Abel’s offerings? (because Abel gave better than Cain) No. But he was angry at the wrong person. His anger was a trigger, given by God, something beautiful. But his first mistake was getting mad at the wrong person, second mistake was he didn't heed God’s advice. Third mistake…. He went ahead and killed Abel in his anger, permanently silencing him and permanently stirring his own demise…. All because he couldn't- wouldn't master it.

I found myself realizing that if I wasn't going to be free of depression, and maybe even this sickness, then I must learn to master it, before it kills me.

So the research went into hyper-drive. The first things Jesus did was help the physical. I needed to be my own Jesus. (is that sacrilege to say?) I needed to help myself physically. Things like getting my ass back into the doctors office and not giving up on that part of things. Eating healthier, drinking more water, and taking my vitamins. I don’t have a second head that’s going to do all this for me. (well... it seems I do have a second head, but she isn't very helpful) I have to stand up for myself and master as much as I can for my body’s sake. I’m still figuring all this out.

Then the emotional/mental; counseling and talking with intimate friends, people I trust. Letting them in. Doing things that fill me up. I’m an introvert, so my things are reading, writing, making music and art. An extrovert may want to get out and run with a bunch of people… (oh wait… my husband does that.) A big one here is forgiving my bad days and embracing my good ones. I’m still figuring all this out.

Then the spiritual: I’m on shaky grounds here. I question everything I knew. Sometimes I struggle in vain…. Heh… most times I do. I try to keep my head about me, but then lose it. I get mad at people when they start talking spiritual to me about my health issues. “You’re going through this for a reason.” (makes me feel like a puppet on a string) “God will never give you anything you can’t handle” (right. And that’s why Christians kill themselves…. Or are killed. And actually, that line is often misquoted, so boom.) “Can’t you just shake it off and keep moving?” (shake it off… without breaking out in song, I ****ing wish I could shake it off and move the body that has it’s own agenda…. Ah! Dang it. Now that dang song is struck in my head) But in all seriousness, I'm letting myself wrestle with my faith. I love God. He is awesome. I just don't always "feel" His awesomeness. And maybe that's ok?  I’m still figuring all this out.

I've made up my mind though. I’m going to master this.

I watched the movie “The Gabby Douglas Story” recently. (awesome movie on Netflix, btw) and as I watched this sweet girl’s young life unfold, I saw the struggle, the passion, the desperation, and the hope. I saw this extraordinary family come together around this girl with extraordinary talent, but ultimately, it was up to her to find her teacher, do the work, fall and rise, and master her skills. She killed it at the Olympics, by the way.

There’s going to be a lot of days when I fail, but this is my trying. Mastering this doesn't even mean that “all will be well”, it just means that I have a plan to discipline myself. On my good days, I’m going to play and laugh, get stuff done, make my weird "kailan" creations. On my bad days, I’m going to cry, not eat when I don’t want to, slow down, forgive myself, cuddle a lot (since that’s the main thing I’m able to still be good at) and go to bed early. Mastering this means I’m going to stop telling myself that I’m not worth it. Or that I’m not a good wife and that he could do better/ have better. Mastering this means I’m going to change that self-talk. I am valuable to Him. I am talented. I am really really good at cuddling no matter what state I’m in. I have a husband, my support system, who goes to the moon and back for me because he thinks I’m worth it. I have friends that love me and all my quirks.

Any time I want to simply be free of my depression and illness, I just get more depressed.

That only leaves me one logical living choice. I must master it.

And so far…. I’m starting to have real hope.

Staycation Turns into Staycrashstation... How Spontaneous Are You Feeling Today?

So my little family did a staycation.... meaning = we had no money, we have tons of children, hubby has some vacations days and viola! You have the ever so creative "staycation!" We decided to hit several parks here in Des Moines and picnic at each one. (and the added perk.... we sleep in our own beds... ahhh.... )

At first it was really really fun. The kids were having a blast going to all these places they've never been before (that are only like... 5-15 minutes away from home... I know... sad).  They LOVED the idea of picnicing at the parks. Most of the mornings... er... days... we wouldn't get out of the house till noon, but still, my children insisted on a picnic! Insisted!! So there I was, packing everything up so we could picnic. We even made it to the Capitol. They were in stars. I loved watching their faces light up at the awe of the place. Then later, a couple days in, came the interruptions and the tantrums... everything started caving in on our staycation; people finding us, work emergencies, and eventually my carefree staycation was put to a halt.

A good friend of mine messaged me while I was throwing an adult sized tantrum in the privacy of my own home and simply said, "How spontaneous are you feeling today?" Bless her heart, she had no idea I was throwing my fit, and she knows KNOWS I'm not your spontaneous person. Surprises are usually NOT a good thing. Romance can't even have at it. I'd be nervous the whole time thinking I need to be doing something or that I forgot something. Girls gotta mentally prepare, you know? Anywho.

I was taken back by her simple message. I looked at the hubs who was in a quiet state as I tried to collect myself and told him what the message said. "How spontaneous are you feeling today?" We both laughed about it. It was like... crazy laughter. I mean, how ironic is it that things like this happen when someone pops into your day and accidentally slaps you with a 'grace' stick or a 'get over yourself' stick, or in my case at that point, a 'calm the frick down' stick.

"How spontaneous are you feeling today?"

If fact, her spontaneous message was the spontaneity that I needed. I did inquire further as to what she meant and of course I had to slap her back with a big fat N.O. and she understood, but that phrase was still lingering in my heart. Resentment crept in with anyone that interrupted our little family staycation, even towards my own husband who couldn't help it, even towards our kids that made us feel even guiltier for plans not being carried out. I turned into one hot mess.

So while all that was simmering, we still had time to do one last little picnic. So as I stood at the counter in my kitchen, cutting away at meats and cheeses, my son comes to me and says, "Is there someone to blame?" oh geezz... here we go. (mind you, my husband is still quiet because he knows I'm still simmering)

I replied to my son, "That isn't the point. Life just sucks."
"Life sucks?"
"Yep, life just sucks."
My husband just walked passed us as I said that and gave me a quiet lecture on how I'm responding.
Ok, fine I'll try a little harder... "So things happen in life that suck all the time. Plans get changed, people change their minds, people die, disasters happen. There's nothing we can do about it, they just happen. All we can do is try to spin it for the better. We have to find ways that we can spread love even in the suckiness and then... maybe it won't suck so bad." Ugh.. yes. I know. I'm talking to myself too.

At that moment, my son started helping me without my needing to ask for it. He stopped complaining about the plans that got totally derailed and his countenance lifted. You could tell he was trying. Now it was my turn to mirror that.

"How spontaneous are you feeling today?"

So we tried to make the most of our day, and by that afternoon, I was kissing my husband good-bye. And trying not to kiss our staycation good-bye, we ate junkfood, watched "Honey I Shrunk The Kids" (their first time) and I beat them righteously at the game Othello. Over and over. :) We pulled the couch-bed out and passed out.

And repeat the next day.

And ya know? Even though it didn't turn out the way I wanted it too, there's some really great memories that will be brought up for years to come. Enjoy the pictures below, of just a few of the places we were!

This was an egg shaped structure in Clare and Miles Mill Rose Gardens. It was pretty neat. 

Isaiah working on a painting project. He picked his favorite roses to paint. 

Eve and Tesh are working on their paintings, while baby Ruth finds leaves most interesting. 

How could we NOT do this!!! :D During this moment our 4 yr old was behind us (you can't see her)
throwing a fit. Eve was trying to trying to calm the 2 yr old in the stroller, and the baby is eating more leaves. Our 9 year old took the picture :) 

Ah! All of them. How lovely! I actually got a better picture, I just thought this one was share worthy.
Who wants to look at all the nice ones, right? 

A playground with no plastic playground equipment at Sargent Park. Nature's playground! They loved this one!
Me? lots of hiding places. I told Josh that if we were teens, this would be a good make out spot. Ha! 

The Capitol Building! Isaiah's words, "This is the best day of my life!" 

Ahh... their eyes just sparkled with all sorts of wonder. :) 

Of course we hit up Granny's Sweet Freeze Shoppe to cap it off! 

One big surviving family! 

 How spontaneous are you feeling today?

My progress is my own progress. Can't take that away from me.

You remember last year when I was complaining about how the grass is always greener on the other side? (not just a metaphor, the grass is literally greener on the other side of the fence..... oh that's right... because they have GRASS!)

I didn't even know potato plants had blossoms.

So I've been slaving away at this garden of mine, studying up on what works and what obviously doesn't. I've been learning so much about our yard, the dirt, the trees, the bugs, the poison ivy infested mulch! (how lovely) 

Any time I talk to anyone about gardening, they all start going on about how big everything has gotten in their own gardens. How the garden is being overtaken by certain (edible) plants. OVERTAKEN!!! I look over to the "grass is greener" yard (why do I do this to myself?) and see an even greener pasture. "Oh look.... how cute... they have a garden now too.... " Why don't they just post a neon sign pointing to my yard that says, "Black thumb of death! Come and take a peek! 5 cents! Beware of her temper!" .....  wait... 5 cents? I'm worth more than that?! 

No really, I'm happy for them. They are finally putting that beautiful green yard to good use. 

But I stand at my garden. Having slaved over it. Mostly on my own, because you may also remember my genius husband that thought he could parkour and broke his wrist during spring time when it was time to put the garden together. (he's lucky he's cute) All my work, all my toil and trial, ever so slowly creeping it's green way up, high up to the sky.... or up 6 inches from the ground, but let's not worry about those minute details. The point is, it IS growing. Just not at the rate that everyone-else's gardens are growing. And I need to be ok with that. I need to give myself grace and allow my garden it's process. It's still in toddler stages, but this is farther than I've ever gotten with a garden in my yard!! And for that, I'm proud of myself. Even with all the trials of the bajillion trees in my yard, I'm making things grow. My kids are learning so much watching me toil over this. My son is so perceptive that even he is helping me come up with solutions to various problems. And in fact, their pumpkin vine is a hecka lot bigger than mine! I'm so proud and jealous and proud! They do deserve to win our pumpkin contest.  

My kids' pumpkin vine, 3 times bigger than mine.

My 6 year old daughter wants to read so bad. We've been working on it hard core this summer, but she makes it harder on herself. She doesn't have the best memory, but also, she's so very impatient with herself that she stunts her progress. She gives up feeling frustrated that she can't do it. Or that she's not doing it RIGHT NOW. I can only hope she learns this summer that with hard work, and perseverance, she will learn to read well. But she has to allow herself her process. Everyone goes at a different pace. Some read when they are 4. Others read when they are 10. And that's ok. The end result is still the same. They are reading! 

I need to allow myself the same process. I may not be as fast as everyone else. Or have the knowledge about having a nice green thumb and not the black thumb of death. But... when I keep my eyes focused on my own progress and how far I've come, I look at my thumbs and see a glimmer of a different color appearing. I can stand in my meager garden and see the truth. 

It is growing. 

Very first official harvest from seed I planted in the ground. Yay! Love me some lettuce!

Don't Mess with Tesh! : Some news whilst celebrating 4 years post op for her!

It's appropriate to share some news we have today about Tesh. Today marks 4 years since Tesh had her cranial surgery. I can't believe it's been that long, but I can still remember all the fear and relief of it like it was yesterday. I remember how she fell asleep in my arms just before they took her away from me. All the fight for her with her health issues was coming near it's end with this last crucial step. The moment they called to tell me "her surgery went well and they are closing her up", I got off the phone and started uncontrollably crying, gasping for breath to make it stop, but I couldn't. When my family and friends saw this, they thought something was wrong, but really.... it was well. It was SO well.

Oh, Tesh. She's changed our home forever, that's for sure. Out of all 6 children, she's the one that gave me my only c-section. She's the one that has had us in and out of doctors offices (with siblings in tow) and why I sound as smart as I do about certain medical things when I talk to people about these experiences. She has also made our house louder.... And when I say louder, I mean it. Ever since she was a toddler, her screams have always rung in my ears. Screams for justice! Her particular preferences have been overwhelming to me as we try to communicate back and forth as to why she's upset. Her fears and anxieties will be through the roof at times. Her need for control remains, no matter what I do. If there's too much attention on her, whether it be bad or even good, she'll shut down and sometimes cry. There was even a scene where she FINALLY went potty (this was a few months ago) and we were all there to congratulate her. Her parents, grandparents, some aunts and uncles. We all were saying, "Great job, Tesh! What a big girl!" She then proceeded to cry and said, "Your happy makes me sad."  After having had 2 older kids in the house, I knew the way she would react to certain things was a little.... off.  Extreme.

So... all this to say, we had her evaluated yesterday. We waited 5 months for this appointment with the wonderful Dr. Noble here in Des Moines. (and he IS wonderful!) He said she has Sensory Processing Disorder. He said, "Nothing is broken. No wires are crossed. It's a combination of temperament, personality, preferences, anxieties... on steroids!"

I found all this good news because now we can pin-point it, research it, learn what it is, and know better how to help her cope. All this time, I thought I might be crazy for thinking anything was "wrong" with her, (because I know it could be a lot worse) but there IS something and we CAN better help her. There is so much here, so many faucets of information and uniqueness about her, too much to cover on a little blog post. But all I know is that for these last couple years, I've kept my concerns about her to the closer circle of people around us, and it's been something that has been eating away at me and it's finally done. Well..... the pin-pointing part. And now it's not eating away at me because we have some answers.

The real (hard) work now continues with occupational therapy in hopes to help her cope with her processing skills. And with a lot of patience from me and the close people around her. I look forward to reading "The Out-of-Sync Child" by Carol Kranowitz (suggestion by Dr. Noble according to her diagnosis, apparently my child will seem to be on those very pages)

It takes a community to raise a child..... It still takes a community to raise a child that is unique and weird and apparently on steroids. And let's be honest here... most of her unique weirdness comes from the queen herself. (ding :D) And to be further honest, we are both working on our coping mechanisms now.

I love her so much and I have full confidence that she will do well. In fact, the picture below is my proof that she's going to be an awesome fictional writer some day. Yep. She's in an almost constant state of imagination, which makes her seem like a weird random kid, but it fascinates me to watch her. I can only hope I can be a good mom and help unlock this world of hers, from her head... to paper... but for now, she's 4. Baby steps. 

I had no idea where she was or what she was saying... all I know is I wished I could see what she saw. 

Too Many Irons In The Fire

It has been storming and raining for days. Today there was a good sized storm. Flooding and damage is occurring all around. And where am I? 

- sitting on the couch, playing Free Cell (I'm trying to beat my percentage of wins... I'm at 39%), eating snacks, and letting the kids watch TV. Usually Monday involves cleaning the faithful chaos that the weekends ensue, but today I feel like crap and it's raining.... so it's all good. 

I have been so busy (um... that may just mean away from my home) that I've had little time to enjoy all the storms. But today I sit in all it's beautiful gloom and let it wash over me. 

My wonderful Uncle called over the weekend. His timing is impeccable sometimes. He's a counselor so he knows all the right questions to ask and then I become like a fire hydrant. By the end of the conversation, I realized.... 

I've got issues. 

Ok, well.... I knew this, BUT the chronic stress in my life is catching up to me in a way that's changing my outlook on life. I've lost control over the way I deal with stress. I've become overwhelmed way too easily, most times over trivial things. 

Yes, I have 5 kids at home. That's hard. It's so hard. I'm home with them all. the. time. I love having been home with them, but being home with them is a different story. And frankly, they've been getting in the way of what I want or need to do. Yep. I admit it. That's how pitiful I sound about now. I told you, I've got issues. 

But I'm not totally crazy. Every woman in my shoes prays for a moment of peace to sit down to herself, to eat a snack without being attacked with begging, to take a bath, or better yet, go to the bathroom without playing referee.

But still I need to take care of me. My husband kindly pointed out one night of tears that I have too many irons in the fire. He said that this IS just a season and that I can take an iron out for now, but not have to keep it out forever. 

So... that's what I'm doing to help in the "Kailan's got issues" effort. I'm taking some iron's out. For now. So when I'm done with this season of life, I can put those irons back in because there will be room. So now my task is choosing wisely, which irons get to stay in and which ones need to come out? 

My hope in doing this is to bring some life back into me so I can quit feeling worthless because of my exhaustion. So I can make room for the little people that DO matter. So I can make more efficient room for myself.  

Do you have any irons you need to take out for now? 

 

"I will learn to love the skies I'm under." Mumford & Sons

The little people are EVERYWHERE!!! Protect yourself!!

Don't let this angelic picture fool you!! 

Overwhelmed.

I finally feel outnumbered with 5 kids at home. I like a clean house, but... for example, there's little boxes full of baby clothes sitting in the middle of the kids' room that is the youngest's temporary 'dresser' because it's just too much to keep up with the switching of clothes sizes as she rapidly grows. I finally got around to scraping the table off of nail polish from the 4 and 6 year old's practicing for womanhood. I felt like I had a clean house just by doing that. I managed to create a nook for myself and my husband in the porch. I'm proud to say we have enjoyed it, but letting the kids have free reign over house while we're in there may not be the best idea... it's a work in progress. My 2 year old is officially evil, making her demands as she sees fit. And my poor 9 year old (only) son is caught in the middle of it all. At least I have some company whilst we both look at each other and pull our hair out together.

I honestly don't know what I'd do without the supportive husband that I have. He sees the season of all this. He comes home from a stressful job to a crazy house and never seems to despise my need for help even when he's only been home for 42 seconds.

But it's hard. I'm not a little kid person. I know that sounds ironic because I have so many children, but it's true. My need for intellectual conversation is like an unquenchable thirst. My closest friends probably think it's either annoying or endearing as I constantly reach out with emails and messages, just to have some adult conversation, as I'm stuck at home most the time with these little people. I'm just gonna say they find it endearing, so I can keep my self-esteem up. Yeah... we'll go with that.

For some reason, I haven't been writing lately. I can feel it too. It's so therapeutic for me to write, so when I'm not writing, I'm not doing "well." I have so many things that I want to write about, it's overwhelming to know where to start. So I've made a list and am going to go through it, one by one, so you'll have to bear with me. My goal is to be better at consistency. But I know that it's so important to protect my "me time". That "thing" I like to do and find some healing in doing so. It has to be protected. It doesn't just come up and say, "Hey, guess what?! You are going to write today! Here, let me get my screen on and I'll get the chair underneath you so you can sit and write, so you have to do it. I'll even shut facebook off for you!" ..... I wish.

So to all the busy parents out there... protect your time. It's great spending time with your kids, but if you don't protect your retreat, that thing that you've found healing to you, that thing that de-stresses you... than you'll slowly be no good to those you love.

Here's a related, but unrelated picture of my strawberry blossoms this summer. (Related because my garden has also kept me busy, but I've successfully harvested SOMETHING from my garden. Yay. But unrelated because this post is not about strawberries, it's my pitiful excuse as to why I've been quiet lately.)