motherhood

Having a moment

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

Today was a day.

Wait. Hold on a second. It really wasn’t. For the most part, it was extremely uneventful. I’m just being extra.

For the most part today was extremely uneventful. We took the puppy for walks and outside time. I “danish parented” when I let Charlotte fill her empty sandbox with water and bubbles. I actually made three meals today instead of finding one to order out for. To be completely honest, I saved my delivery order for wine (cheers!). Everyone got along. No one made their way to time out. I felt like super mom for a moment.

And then…the witching hour (also known as it’s hot this afternoon so we’re all going to meltdown) happened upon us. We’re crate training our puppy so we went out for an hour just so he could get used to us leaving and coming back. I had the brilliant idea of letting the kids play Pokemon Go as we got milkshakes. Everything was fine.

Then something happened with Pokemon Go and Max had a melt down. Charlie was upset because I said she had to use a straw instead of a spoon in the car for her milkshake (mean mom award goes to me). I also bought fries for the kids to share and Charlotte was pissed because they all got an even amount and she didn’t get more than her brothers.

I’m in a mood, but holding it together to make dinner when we get home when the trifecta happens. All within two minutes the following happens: Oliver uses the hose to squirt Max in the face while Max is clearly screaming stop. Samson comes in from peeing outside to immediately pee inside. After I clean that up I go to check on Charlie outside as she is pouring soup into the grass all willy-nilly.

So I got more annoyed. And there may have been some yelling. And then cut to me cutting zucchini for my dinner (no grilled cheese for me) since I am now counting calories again sobbing uncontrollably. Everything annoyed me. Which in turn made me cry harder because I know it shouldn’t annoy me.

Ugh. I hate days like this. And the worst part is that I only get the kids for half time so I feel like I have now “wasted” time with them because I was in a mood.

So at 8:53 at night, when my children should be in bed, but clearly are getting some extra technology time due to mom guilt, I know I have two choices for the the rest of the night. I can continue in this mood and probably wake up like this tomorrow as well. Or I can focus on the moments that were good today: finding new books in the little free library, watching the kiddos run around with the neighbors during impromptu play time, and the lovely wine I have chilling in the kitchen for after bedtime.

Tomorrow is a new day. It will be better. The mama guilt won’t last forever. And I will remind myself constantly that I am only human.

Anything but that.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

Yes, you can do hard things. But you shouldn’t always have to. Sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away and say “not right now”.

This is what I tell myself as I avoid something I very much do not want to do, something that I know will not only break my heart into a thousand pieces all over again, but will also create a fiery rage inside me where no one, not even me, is safe.

There are court documents I need to look over and check out. And I just don’t want to. I literally want to do anything but that right at this moment. They are full of more half truths than truths and in between are the blatant lies that I just don’t want to see. I skimmed them last night but now that I need to look at them more clearly, my breath is hitching and I can’t stop grinding my teeth in agitation.

On Tuesdays I am home by myself for about 2 hours. Usually this is time that I relish. As a mom of three and a kindergarten teacher time without tiny bodies touching you and calling your name of few and far between. I look forward to this day every week. I look forward to these two hours where I can be productive or not, depending on my mood. But today, all I could think about was having to go home and go over these documents and I immediately began having a panic attack.

So when I got home I decided that the documents can wait. I was not going to let them consume my time and my thoughts. I was not going to let this person, who I have given so much to already, take one more thing from me without my permission. I should of stood up for myself 10 years ago, but I didn’t. I know better now. I know how to take what I need. I know how to prioritize things so that I don’t fall into the darkness. I know how to say “not right now”.

So I changed my clothes and put on my running shoes and headed out the door. I did the run I didn’t want to get up for this morning. I uploaded some amazing pictures of my class to twitter. I poured myself a glass of wine and began writing this. Because I will get to those documents, I absolutely will. Just not right now.

Seconds, Minutes, Hours, Days

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The weekends I don’t have the kids are the hardest. Because it’s not just 2 days, it’s 5. I haven’t seen them since Friday morning and as much as I enjoy the sleeping in, binge watching something that is NOT Captain Underpants, and eating chips that I don’t have to share, I feel like part of me is missing. I feel unwhole. Less than. Lacking.

It’s only been two months with this new schedule and it’s already tougher than I expected. I didn’t expect to feel like this…All. The. Time. My breath hitches when I don’t get a text back within 10 minutes. I constantly wonder if they’re happy. I wonder if I am doing enough. I have no idea how I am going to be able to keep this up for 14 more years.

These are the days the anxiety creeps in the fastest. Where sleep seems to evade me. Where I busy myself with project after project, cleaning after cleaning, glass of wine after glass of wine.

The every day worries get escalated. Not all at once, but slowly, like a snowfall that builds, and builds, and builds until it consumes you like a blizzard. I have a parent-teacher conference with Max’s teachers on Wednesday. Last week when I confirmed the conference I assumed (and kinda knew) that it was because Max is failing advanced math and they are probably going to move him to the on grade level math class. And that he’s a little silly and unfocused at school. And he hates writing. I’ve had this talk before…I know the drill. But today those worries escalated to the teachers outlining all of my failures as a parent leading up to Max failing math. It’s because I fought for them. It’s because I have to take them back to Mike’s at 7 am for school. It’s because I’m not able to come to the class parties.

So now my carefree weekend is filled with anxiety and worry. And I know it’s not going to cease until Wednesday when this parent-teacher conference is over and my littles are home with me.

And then it will start all over again.

We’ll get there when we get there

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

It’s been a struggle recently, to say the least, of managing expectations. Not only mine, but other’s as well. I feel like I have them coming at me from all sides: work, home, kids, my ex. Even my dreams have started rustling up my anxiety.

Today was my first day to drive the boys to their dad’s house before school. Every single thing comes down to a single minute. Getting up. Getting dressed. Getting in the car. Driving there. Driving to work. And then doing the whole entire process again in the afternoon. And the next day. And the next week.

I sat in the car today on the way home quietly weeping while the kids sang the Pokemon theme song (why I let them add the songs to our Spotify playlist, I’ll never know). I wasn’t sad, I was simply exhausted. The expectations and the time constraints finally caught up to me and I began to leak at the seems. And guess what? This was only the first day.

I rushed around making dinner before we all had to get ready for Oliver’s soccer practice, calculating in my head the time we had to leave to make it on time and I stopped for a minute and realized “We’ll get there when we get there.”

Getting the kids to their dad on time? We’ll get there when we get there.

Getting to work on time? We’ll get there when we get there.

Getting my students from point A to point B throughout the day? We’ll get there when we get there.

Getting back to the kids after school? We’ll get there when we get there.

Getting to soccer practice? We’ll get there when we get there.

I would like to think this was a life changing moment where my behavior suddenly swung from type A to chilled out mama of three. I know tomorrow morning I’ll still be stressed out, but hopefully, it will start to wane as the days ebb and the weeks pass.

I’ll just have to keep reminding myself that we’ll get there when we get there.

And you know what, we will.

Who we want to be…

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It’s 3:46 pm on a random Wednesday. An insane thunderstorm just blew through so we are all stuck inside. I sit and write while the youngest two destroy the house I mean make a fort in the living room. I sit and sip a small glass of red wine to calm the anxiety I feel over the clutter and mess. I can’t count the number of times I have said “Please stop throwing the ball in the house” on both hands. Each time, there is a little less patience and understanding in my voice. I know if I have to say it again, I’m going to snap. And I also know that I really don’t want to do that.

I love my children, I do. Parenting is the most amazing I have ever done and, honestly, if I could I would quit my job and stay at home so I could have more time with my kids. And yet…it’s also the hardest thing I have ever done, each day bringing on new challenges that, even after three kids and teaching for over 15 years, I never feel quite prepared for.

I feel like I try my hardest, I really do, but it seems that each night I go to bed cringing at myself for some mistake I feel like I made and a prayer to have a better day tomorrow. For some reason, as confident as I am in my ability to be a teacher, I completely lack most of that confidence in my parenting ability.

Part of it, I know, is the custody struggle that I’m in. I constantly feel like I need to be on my game, radiating perfection 24/7 because someone is always watching. I feel like my parenting is constantly questioned and other people are trying to catch me “doing something wrong”. Let me tell you, this is exhausting.

The feeling of needing to be perfect doesn’t only come from there. It comes from inside too, of course. I have always had the need to control everything, it’s essentially the only way I feel safe and secure. Basically, I need to know it and I need to do it. The anxiety I feel when I am in a situation that I can’t control is palpable. So basically, since having that amount of control when you have kids (and especially when you SHARE kids) rarely happens, you can imagine how I feel almost all the time.

I know the kind of mom I want to be: the kind that is patient and not sarcastic. The kind that is understanding and helpful. The kind that remembers that kids are just that…kids. No one is going to listen all the time. Brothers are going to fight. Toddlers are going to tantrum. THIS IS NORMAL. And I feel like I’m halfway there. I’m more patient than I used to be. I have stopped expecting so much from them all the time. I’m learning to live with a little bit of mess and chaos without completely freaking out.

But I am still growing. I’m still navigating. I’m still learning to stop being a cruise director and let them set the rhythm for the day. And yes, I’m still trying hard to not make a big deal when there is a ton of grass covering the floor because they had an epic water battle outside and dragged it in when getting changed.

And I’m working hard to remember that even if today is a complete shit show, all they need at night is a hug, a kiss, and a promise that I love them.

The Last Year of Marriage

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There’s a very good chance that this will be the last year that I will be married. Though we have been separated for almost a year and a half, technically we are still locked in union according to the law.  I still help pay his student loans.  He is still on my health insurance.  Neither of us is in a rush to get this thing finished, to break apart a union that is 16 years in the making, but we also know that eventually the cord will have to be cut and ties severed.

Sometimes I honestly don’t know which times we’re harder.  Was is the years we spent distant and cold, simply playing the part of husband and wife, the outside world oblivous to the struggles we were having within ourselves?  Was is the year I said I was leaving, but had to stay, the couch my permanent home, so much hate traveling back and forth between us while our children looked on, bewildered and overwhelmed?  Or was it this year?  The year filled with anger and remorse, both wanting to be with my kids full time and knowing that doing that meant hurting all of us in the process.  I simply can’t be sure.

The only thing I do know is that all of them were hard and all of them have taken an irreversible toll on me.  Anger, guilt, despair, panic, and disappointment and utter sadness have been my constant companions  and some days it takes every effort possible just to remind myself to take in air so I can keep living.

I’ve spent so much of the last year and a half fighting with a person I was supposed to love until the end of time.  He knows how to push my buttons better than anyone else and knows exactly what to say to make me go from quiet and content to a rage filled nightmare.  Sometimes I think he does it accidentally, forgetting how much I look into every word spoken, sure there are hidden meanings.  Other times I know it’s purposeful, and those times are the hardest to bear and the hardest to break free from.  Because how in the hell did we get to this place where we’ve become vindictive and spiteful to each other on purpose?

The other day we texted back and forth about something completely innocuous; a movie quote from a movie I know is one of his favorites.  It was a short, but lovely, conversation simply because it seemed so easy.

And then, of course, in true Cassie fashion, I started to cry.  I wanted to crawl into that conversation and live there because for the first time in a long time, I felt safe in that relationship.  Did I want to get back together?  Absolutely not.  We were horrible as a couple.  Not in the beginning, but in the many years that followed.  Our relationship was passive aggressive at best and self destructive at worst.  We were mean.  And nasty.  And horrible to each other.  And that’s putting it lightly.  Love should bring out the best in two people and for us, it didn’t.  Not anymore.  But that simple conversation showed me something I hadn’t seen between us in a long time.  It gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe one day all the conversations could be like this.  Maybe it will get better.

And while we may not ever really be friends, maybe we would stop intentionally trying to hurt each other in ways we only know how.

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The Scaries

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

I think maybe I’m having a mid life crisis.  I’m only 37, so I sincerely hope not.  Since I don’t really know when midlife is, maybe I’m just always in crisis.  That sounds a bit more like it.

Happiness in some life aspects seems to be taking its toll and I’m struggling lately.  While my “relationship” with my ex is always in turmoil, my other key relationships seem to be working rather nicely.  It took me a long time to actually feel confident in my life with Joe.  Seeing as both of us were with other people when we decided to be together, the constant wondering if he’d rather be back with her was always in my mind.  Now, not so much.  I’ve accepted the fact that he wants to be with me and with that acceptance it feels like a giant weight has been lifted.

Additionally, my relationships with my kids has never been better.  While I wish I could see them every day, I do get them for 5 days a week so I know I am lucky.  When they are with me there’s not a lot of emotional breakdowns.  There’s the age appropriate ones of course, but no more of the tantrums and fits where I would contemplate calling a priest for an exorcism.  Without all of the hostility and toxic air that Mike and I would spew around the house, they are thriving and I love having this daily reminder that I did the right thing even though it was incredibly hard.

But now, in the absence of these major life instances to worry about, I actually feel a loss.   One might think that now that I have these things worked out, it’s time to reflect on other items that may have been plaguing me but that I’ve brushed aside.  Yes, this is probably true, but I feel like it’s more than that.  It’s almost as if I’m scared of happiness.  That I look at myself being content and happy and immediately begin to wait for the other shoe to drop.  I begin to worry about not being worried about something so I find something to worry about (the ever present vicious cycle). I think that’s why lately I have been so focused and seemingly unhappy in my career.

For me, the Sunday scaries seem to be a thing of the past…because now they begin on Friday night.  I spend my entire weekend with the idea and unhappiness of going back to work on Monday looming in my mind.  AND. I. HATE. IT. I find new causes and excitements each day.  I get excited about buying in bulk and reducing my plastic usage.  I get excited about making muffins with a new recipe.  I even get excited about starting a new book.  But I can’t get excited about going to work.

Don’t get me wrong, when I get there it really isn’t that bad.  I love my students.  I love feeling like I’m making a difference, at least in the life of one child but ever since I switched schools my enthusiasm for teaching at all has gone lower and lower with each passing day.  Yes, I always felt stressed about teaching and my job…but in a way that everyone does.  This year is different.  I feel like an outsider in this school, locked away in my own little corner, almost as if no one expects me to stay so no one makes the effort.  Everything seems so competitive, almost as if you can only do well if you are doing better than someone else.  It’s completely exhausting.

At Collington I was never really a favorite.  I did my job and I did it well and for that I fell under the radar (not extremely motived to do everything in the school, but also not drowning).  I knew the families and they knew me.  And I had people.  There’s something about working in a school in an atmosphere like that one.  You need people.  You are not going to make it without people.  You band together because you know they get it.  I don’t have people at my new school and that makes it rather lonely.  That, topped with a complete lack of any praise EVER makes it a hard environment to work in day in a day out.

So I stress.  And I stew.  And I worry.  I deliberate.  I panic…literally.  And then I tell myself every single morning as I walk out that door that if it gets to be too much, I can quit.  Or I quietly remind myself that I only have a certain amount of days left of this year and next year is sure to be better.  And these two things seem to be all that is getting me through.

I don’t know why I allow myself to be consumed with the stress of this job ALL THE TIME.  I have to stop.  I spend roughly 7.5 hours there each day. That translates to 35.5 hours at work.  That’s it.  Barely a blip on the 168 hours that are in a week.  And yet I spend the rest of those hours worried about work!  And the saddest part of all?  I’m a 37 year old woman and I keep worrying about if I’m doing a good job.  That’s it. No one tells me I’m not.  But no one tells me I am.

This is ridiculous. I have to be more present in the moment with my kids.  I have to focus more on the good things than stress that is ever present.  I have to stop letting 35.5 hours dictate the rest of my time.

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Lenten Promises

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Sigh.  A week without wine. I’m ready to throw in the towel.

I’ve been thinking about Lent a lot lately.  I’m not sure why, because I’m not particularly religious.  I think it’s the whole idea about willpower and of beating myself at something.  I’m nothing if I’m not competitive.  I assumed that the hardest thing for me would be to give up wine and that if I could do it for Lent, I could do anything.   And let’s all agree, this is not true.  Giving up wine is not going to give me some insane super power that is going to magically change my life.  It’s just not, and I feel foolish for even thinking it.

As I sit here in my dining room, the sun shining outside, and the wind blowing through the windows I opened, I’m pretty sure I’m doing this Lent “thing” wrong.  As a matter of fact, I’m positive that I am.  Joe and I each decided to give up something for lent that we felt we over-consumed.  For me, wine (though I gave up all alcohol) and for him soda.  And do you know what we did the minute we decided to give them up?  We began planning for Good Friday when we can have them again.  We know exactly where we are going to eat, and exactly what we were going to drink.

Each day we count how many more days we have until we can imbibe again.  Our conversations and communications with each other throughout the day have picked up, but it’s basically each of us telling the other that we want wine or soda and the other one agreeing wholeheartedly before ushering in the “we can do it”s and any other encouraging comments we can muster.

So in a nutshell…we’re talking more but simply about what can’t have and planning for the minute that we can have it again.

I’ll say it again…I think we’re going about this the wrong way. Or at least I am.  What is the point of giving up wine for lent if I’m going to go right back to it? What is the point of giving up wine for lent if it does not affect my life in any way (neither positively or negatively)?

No.  This is not an excuse to go out and buy myself a bottle of wine right now and call it a day.  It may seem like that, but it’s not.  While many people tend to focus on the “fasting” portion of Lent, giving up something we don’t need, depriving ourselves of the excesses and luxuries we may have in order to become more attuned spiritually, we forget that Lent is really a time of self-examination and reflection, a time in which we look inward to really determine ways we can be better: whether it is ways to better serve the Lord, ways to grow spiritually, or simply ways you can make a positive impact on the world, or others, or yourself.

Maybe instead of depriving ourselves of something it would be more admirable to find small ways to change our habits.  Maybe I should add in a reading time each day instead of TV watching.  Somehow I feel like I never have time to read for pleasure, but have no trouble finding time to binge watch 10 episodes of The Office.  Maybe I add a mandatory “no phone” time for myself (another black hole of time suckage along with the TV).  Maybe I make sure I complete a mile every day (whether it’s walking or running) just to get some time outside away from technology with my family and boyfriend.  Maybe I do all three.

To make a long story short (too late) I need to rethink this.  If I want to do this right…really do this right…I need to start thinking of ways I can better myself for more than just 40 days. I need to be in it for the long haul.

 

Reinvention?

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“Slow down you crazy child
You’re so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you’re so smart tell me,
Why are you still so afraid?
Where’s the fire, what’s the hurry about?
You better cool it off before you burn it out
You got so much to do and only
So many hours in a day.” ~Billy Joel

It’s been almost a week since baby #3 has joined our chaotic family.  I should probably stop calling her baby #3.  Her name is Charlotte Emerson and she was born on Tuesday.  I won’t bore you with the baby stuff (like I’m sure I’ve bored almost every single person on Facebook and Instagram) but I will say that she is completely perfect in every way.

While I’ve been on maternity leave since April 2, this kids and pretty much every one I know was on Spring Break last week so it really didn’t hit me until this morning when I had to get up and feed and dress people with the timed deadline of school.  Even though everyone slept in later than normal (even the baby Charlotte) we managed to get showered, dressed, fed, and out the door on time and I was able to spend the next few hours completing some random housework, holding Charlotte, and flipping through Netflix unencumbered buy anyone or anything.

I realize it’s only day 1.  I realize Charlotte has only been with us for less than a week. But honestly, things are working out better than they were before.  I’m trying to figure out if motherhood just agrees with me more, or if it is, in fact, simply maternity leave and time off from a very stressful job that has changed me so completely in just a few short days.

Last night Mike took Charlotte to visit with his parents.  I cleaned the main level of the house, made dinner for the boys, and then went outside to enjoy the beautiful weather. After having baby #3 six days ago I’ve never felt more sore, more tired, and more poor in my life. I’ve also never felt happier, more relaxed and more in love with my life. I haven’t been short tempered, or depressed, or annoyed with anything. It made me realize just how much having to go to my job (not work in particular, specifically my job) affects my happiness.

I have 7 weeks off (plus all of summer vacation) to do some real soul searching and think about the direction that my life is heading.  The last 10 months of pregnancy were hard on me and I am sure they were hard on my family.  I was a pretty miserable person and, in turn, am pretty sure I made them miserable too.

I have this time now, though, without the stressors of work, to get myself together.  I keep thinking of it as having a chance to reinvent myself, to become who I really want to become.   But I don’t think that’s what I’m really aiming for. Reinvention consists of the idea of remaking or making over.  I feel more that I now have the time to focus on becoming the absolute best version of myself.  For me,  For my friends.  And for my family.

I need to slow down more, have more patience, see past faults, be more understanding, be less frustrated, and a myriad of other things.  I always felt that what I really needed to discover myself and work towards a better me was time and that’s actually the one thing I have in droves right now.  Time.

I raise my glass to toast to the future.  To toast to time.  To toast to becoming the person I want to be…the person I know I can be.  I toast to becoming the best version of me.

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