Baited Breath

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It came out of nowhere.  I wasn’t at all prepared for it.

The calmness of things going right.

The past year has been a struggle (to put it mildly).  Anger and sadness consumed my days and nights, even when it shouldn’t have.  I dreaded everything.  Work.  Being at home.  Even waking up most mornings.

When I moved out, I thought this would be the catalyst for peace and happiness.  I assumed just the act of moving out was going to make everything right in world.  That somehow this one single act was enough.

I was wrong.  As a matter of fact, for the first month it was worse.  Everyone was unhappy.  Everyone was still miserable.  There was so much crying.  The nastiness from both kids and adults was unreal.

And then, one day, it wasn’t.  It was almost like the tides had turned or a strong fall breeze blew away the bitterness.

Things are working out.  Schedules have been set. Civility and sometimes even friendliness have taken the place of the anger and resentment that have lived there for so long.  And the kids…the changes in them since things have become more settled and secure is amazing.

I think we all feel it.  And by all I really do mean ALL.

I wake up most mornings and immediately think: what am I supposed to be worrying about today?  And you know what?  Nothing really comes.  I’ll always have the generic worries: money, work, money, time, money.  But those are just things that come with being an adult (ugh).  My mind is no longer consumed with negativity all the time.

I am no longer worried about how I’m simply going to make it through the day alive.  I no longer have to make bets and promises with myself about not yelling or losing my temper.  I no longer have to think that I’m the most terrible mom, wife, friend, person every minute of every day.

And it feels amazing.

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Charlotte

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*I wrote this blog a while ago, but I’m republishing it, because after the last few days it’s more pertinent than ever.*

It’s been awhile since my last post.  And the same plethora of all and nothing has happened as usual.  I’d like to report that I’ve continued being brave.  I haven’t backed down.  I haven’t made false promises that I don’t intend to keep in order to make my life easier. I’ve stood my insanely shaky ground without falling; proudly and with vehemence.

What I can’t say is that it has made my fight any easier.  In fact, not shockingly, it has made it worse.  Because the more I fight to get out, the more he fights to keep me in.  No matter that I tell him it’s not working.  No matter that I tell him that fighting with me is counter-productive; it’s actually making things worse.  No matter that I tell him this IS going to happen, the fighting continues.

We’ve been here before.  If you know me, you know this.  You also know that for the most part I’m a giant coward.  I hate confrontation, and when the work gets tough (and I mean really tough) I tend to quit…making excuses upon excuses for why I’m doing it, but quitting none the less.  It’s better if I stay.  I can’t leave him with nothing.  The kids will be better off.  Every single god-awful cliche has been used and each time I stay it’s like a little piece of me breaks off and crumbles; shatters and blows away like dust.  Just a little each time…not enough to notice to the untrained eye, but enough for me to feel less than.

And this cycle repeated for so many years.  Outwardly, I look whole but inside there is just emptiness.  And I told myself this was my penance for wrong doings.  I was paying for mistakes I made in the past.  That eventually everything would just be ok.

And then she was born.

Charlotte.

My boys are my boys, but she is my GIRL.  Just saying her name gives me hope and pride. She’s stubborn, and fiery, and feisty.  She’s smart and no nonsense.  She’s emotional (sometimes overly so).  Yet, with all those things I know to be true, she reminds me every day that she has to be taught that her thoughts and feelings are ok and justified, unlike her brothers that are born into that privilege.

And she is why I fight, when maybe I couldn’t before.  So she never has to think she doesn’t have a choice.  So she never has to think that another person gets to make her decisions for her and tell her how to think and feel.  So she never has to think she has to stay somewhere she doesn’t want to be.  With someone she doesn’t love.

So that she knows it’s always, ALWAYS ok to walk away and try again.

That if she’s in the wrong story…it’s ok to leave.

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The Elusive Other Shoe

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Things have been good lately.  Really good.

Yes. I’m still annoyed by my job.  Yes.  My kiddos drive me insane.  Yes.  There is never enough time, or money, or resources, or sleep.

But yet, things have been good.

We took all three kiddos on a walk around the neighborhood today.  The boys ran ahead playing Pokemon Go and chatting with a neighbor friend who turns out to be in Ollie’s class at school.  Charlie toddled. And fell.  And begged to be picked up.  And begged to be put down. We, as the grownups, meandered slowly, relishing in the fact that we live in a neighborhood where it’s ok that the kids run ahead of us and Charlie walks in the middle of the road.

There was an instant that I realized this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.  Not days, not months. Years. Probably 5 years if you want to put a number on it. And it was the most amazing feeling.  Nothing extraordinary was happening at that moment or today, and yet, pure bliss.

And then after the bliss comes worry.  Because this kind of happiness doesn’t stay.  At least not for me.  I’m half enjoying the bliss and half waiting for the other shoe to drop.  That elusive shoe that’s always hanging in the background waiting.  Waiting to swoop and and remind you that you’re fallible.  That life is full of ups AND downs.  To bring chaos to the stillness happening around you right now.

So we enjoy the happiness, but on our tiptoes.  Scared to make too much noise.  Scared to make any sudden movements.  Because, as much as we want to believe that this kind of happiness, true and unadulterated happiness, is here to stay, we know that darkness is hiding in the shadows.

So we sit and wait until we hear it…the sound of that shoe hitting the ground.

And then we brace our selves.

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Some September Evening

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Today was a good day.  I can’t tell you why it was, precisely, but it just was.

I over slept by 40 minutes (and by over slept I mean chose not to get out of bed for 40 minutes after the alarm went off).  I forgot the ice cream for my class’s Fun Friday and had to turn back around.  I didn’t get a real lunch break because I had five students stay with me for lunch bunch.  I didn’t get quite enough done at the end of the day to be completely prepped for Monday and next week.

And yet…it was a good day.

My students weren’t *too* terrible.

I wasn’t annoyed at my job *too* much.

My kids only fought one time when I got home.

I know this is not the norm for me.  The fighting amongst brothers is unreal.  My disappointment with my job usually takes the forefront of my life.  Certain aspects of my life seem to spiral out of control with no possible way to bring them back into stillness.  I’m usually so wrapped up in myself, always wanting so many things to be different that I can’t see the truly wonderful things I have.

I’ve done terrible things to myself and the people I love, and I’m still living, and breathing, and standing.  This, in and of itself, is a miracle.

Lately I’ve been trying to practice more gratitude, being grateful for all that I do have instead of focusing on what is going wrong.

My kids fight and are insane 90% of the time.  But they’re healthy.  And smart.  And good people.

My job takes part of my soul every single day.  Sometimes I wonder why I even do this.  Then today a very troubled student tells me he misses me.  That he knew he was making progress with me.  That he needs me to be his teacher again.  And it made all of the nonsense worth it.

Money is always tight.  Marriage is always hard.  And yet, I have both.  I have a roof over my head.  My bills are paid (even if it’s just the minimum), and I have love in my heart.

And I am happy. Maybe not always.  Maybe not all the times I should be.  But today I am.

Happy and grateful.

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Drowning on Dry Land

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It’s 8:37 and I’ve officially sat down for the first time today (if you don’t count the commute to and from work, which I don’t).  After leaving the house at 7:00 am and returning home at 4:30 I proceeded to all the mom things I do every day: make dinner, pack lunches, play, read, check folders, baths and showers, bed time, etc. etc. etc.

And now, at 8:37, after working a full day with East Baltimore 3rd graders, and coming home to my second (and most important full time job), I’m finally sitting down.

What am I doing, you ask?  Surely, I must be watching TV.  Or cuddled up with my favorite book.  Or simply going to bed early because I’m so freaking tired.

No.  Not any of those.

I’m working again.  Back to job number one.  Though I’m now in my pajamas, sitting on the couch, the work is still piling up.

Tonight’s agenda:

  • grading 60 math packets,
  • inputting the grades of 60 math packets (10 worksheets x 60 kids = 600 grades)
  • writing a letter to parents about our Fall Festival
  • creating a team meeting agenda
  • creating this week’s math quiz (which will later need to be graded)
  • creating a new seating chart because the green and red groups cannot seem to stop talking.  EVER.

And so on and so on and so on. And that’s just one day.  There will be a different agenda tomorrow.

I’m tired.  And beat.  And literally over it.  No matter how much work I do during the day, I’m never done.  I never get the glimpse of being caught up.  And it’s not the stupid stuff like bulletin boards and birthday charts.  Yes, those things matter, but only to a small extent.  The stuff I’m talking about are the non-negotiables: things that are expected of me in this line of work and I have no choice if I complete them or not.

This is my 7th year.  You’d think my now I would have figured out the trick.  I’m tenured.  And seasoned.  And experienced.  But I still feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.  I still haven’t learned how to get everything done.  I still haven’t figured out how to NOT spend a million dollars a year on classroom supplies.  I still haven’t figured out how to actually ENJOY my job on a daily basis.  Smile…yes.  Be present…yes.  Enjoy…no.

Maybe one day soon I’ll figure it out.  Maybe this is the year I learn how to stay afloat.

And as I reach down to pick up the first piece of grading, Charlie wakes up and beings throwing things out of her crib and talking loudly.

It’s going to be a long night.

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Small but mighty

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I sit here at 8:10 on a weekend morning having already been awake for multiple hours.  Charlie actually slept through the night for the first time in a long time, but the boys start their wake up process every morning at 5:30 regardless of weekend status or what time they went to bed the night before.  Sometimes I think back enviously to the time before kids when getting up “early” was 8 am, how after work I could literally come home, sit on the couch and do nothing, when time was not a precious commodity.

And yet, here I am, thinking how I want one more.

To be fair, I never thought I wanted children at all until I was told I may not be able to have them.  Suddenly, it was all I had ever wanted.  And after each one I was sure it was my last one until the universe decided to surprise me in a big way.  Each time I wonder: can I really do this?  And each time I realize that even though money is tight, and resources are slim, I can. We can.

They drive me crazy, every single one of them, there’s no doubt about it.  Max with his constant creativeness thats leaves half finished inventions around my house.  Oliver with his sass.  His constant and unforgiving sass.  Charlie with her fierce independence at such an early age.  And then there’s all the worrying.  School, social issues, and distractibility for Max.  Insane amounts of hyperactivity for Oliver.  Charlie being so tiny and yet so fearless that she’s constantly covered in scrapes and bruises.  But within all this, I love them fiercely and know what a gift it is so have them in my life…to have given them life.

It’s funny.  I know people think it’s relatively easy for me to get pregnant and have babies.  I mean I have three children 7 and under so it can’t be that hard, right? But for the three children I have, I’ve also had an ectopic pregnancy and four miscarriages. So I know the struggle and the loss and unbearable pain along with the amazing amounts of love.

So, when Charlie is toddling around in her baby Sauconys, I’m both proud and depressed.  And when she shows an understanding of what I’m saying, I’m both in awe and saddened.  And when she begins talking my heart both grows and darkens at the same time.  Because while I’m watching her firsts, I am most likely watching my lasts. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.

I know all the downsides to having one more baby.  You don’t have to remind me or convince me.  I’m 35 which means a lot of increased risks.  The judgement of others.  We would have to buy a new car.  Mike would delay working for another 3 years.  Formula is hella expensive.  Pregnancy and I never really saw eye to eye (I hated every single minute).  Less sleep than I’m getting now.  Did I mention having to buy a new car? Every single thing points to Charlie being the last in line.

And yet…as I pack up her clothes when she grows out of them, they go upstairs in a box labeled “baby girl clothes” and not to the consignment shop or to a friend.  And as I sit reading or watching TV I make mental notes about what names would be cute on baby number 4.

Because you never know.

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Lost and Found

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I seem to have lost myself.  And my will.  And my motivation.  And I can’t seem to find any of them.

I think back to last summer.  Training for the NYC marathon.  Running almost every day, even in the heat. 50 pounds lighter than I am now (the shame).  Happier kids.  Happier life.  Happier marriage.  I sit here and I wonder…what the fuck happened?

When I think about it, I tend to place the blame on other people and situations.  This person came into my life.  This person left.  Work became harder.  A third baby was added.  Time and money were short, as were tempers and understanding.  All of this things can take the blame for my unhappiness, the lack of motivation, the weigh gain, the drinking gain, the indiscretions.

And none of that blame is actually working to fix the problem.  It’s making me a victim.  And I hate being the victim.

Maybe, instead of placing the blame and over analyzing the past year I can suck it up and move on.  Who cares how I got to this place?  Does it really even matter?  The point is, I’m here.  And I need to find my way out.  I know no one can do this for me.  I have to find my way on my own.  But it’s HARD.

I can say, things seem to be headed in the right direction and my support system, though smaller by a few people, is incredibly mighty.  I’m learning to ask for help.  I’m learning to accept help when it’s offered.  Homelife is becoming more concrete, and sound, and loving.

And now to work on the rest.

I’m not used to baby steps.  I’m not used to slow progress.  I’m not  patient person.  When I want something, I want it now.  But with that, my life seems to be a bunch of random “One step forward, two steps back” mishaps.  So maybe now, I go slow.  Take each day and change at a snails pace. Work to strengthen everything instead of just fixing is for a minute.

Maybe going slow isn’t so bad.  Maybe it’s just what need to find where I’m hiding.

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Falling.

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I have so much going on in my brain right now that I don’t even know what to say.  There are so many words and thoughts and feelings, I cant seem to wrap my head around them all.  But it has to come out, or I will explode. And yet, I have no idea how I’m going to do that.

I think back on a quote I read once:

Just start.  And then don’t stop.

So maybe that’s what I should do.  Just start typing and then don’t stop.

I recently lost a friend.  Or two.  Or none.  I guess it all depends on the way you look at the situation.  Because friends wouldn’t have treated each other the way we all did.  Deceit and lies are never a good combination especially when there are so many you can’t keep track.

I could tell my side of the story.  But really, in this tellanovella, there are no “sides”.  I could tell just my part, but I know, in the end that won’t work.  All of the parts  are interconnected and one piece can’t be told without the others.  And while I haven’t been the best person lately, I’m also not in the habit of telling other people’s stories and parts.

I know that everyone affected by this…mess…can read this.  And there’s a high level of probability that they are going to.  You can’t block people from blogs like you can Facebook and Instagram.  So why write it at all?  Because honestly, why not.  At some point we all have to face our demons and I guess there is no better time to do so than right now.

I’m a victim, no doubt about it.  But I’m also the worst perpetrator in this scenario as well. I bet you didn’t expect that, did you?  And not that it matters or makes any ounce of difference, I’m taking the blame.  Hell, I’ll take it all if it makes everyone feel better.  Not to be a martyr, but simply for this chapter in my life to be over and closed.

When all is said and done, no one got what they wanted.  And no one is happy with that outcome.  But here we are.  Forever connected in this tragedy when all we want to do is move further and further away from each other.

My heart literally aches.  It aches for me.  And for my friend (though I guess that’s not really a term I can use anymore).  And just for everything.

But it is what it is.

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Second Place

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Throughout their short lives I’ve tried to teach my kids that you don’t always have to be in first place.  Winning isn’t everything.  As long as you had fun, that’s all that matters.  As long as you really try, it was worth it.  These are wonderful sentiments when it comes to sports or grades, but in the world of relationships, it’s harder for them to find a place.  As children we rank ordered the people in our lives quite frequently.  There was usually nothing more devastating than finding out you were someones “second best friend”, especially if you considered them your “first best friend”.

Luckily, as adults, this isn’t a problem we frequently deal with.  It’s usually pretty easy to figure out where you stand in someone’s life.  When we were little we were verbal about it, having no problem shouting to anyone who would listen about our important list of people.  As adults, we tend to be more subtle, and actions, rather than words, show all we need to know.  When the words do come, they are not surprises.  We already could feel the love and understanding through each action, small or large.  Effort made.  Heart full.

There are those times, of course, that the words and actions don’t match up.  There is a disconnection, a breakdown in communication that makes us feel lost and confused.  What I’ve found most often is that the words are there but the effort is not. It can usually be broken down into two types of friendships.  One of them superficial, at best, and we know that it’s only a matter of time before these friendships are filtered out.  The second kind is far harder to break free from, usually because it causes a great hole in our lives that we are not sure we want.

The Superficials: We have the friends that are nice to our face, but tend to lie or tell half-truths (Past post about this) in some sort of effort to feel better about themselves or “seem cooler” to us (sorry for the middle school terminology).  While this is less than an ideal friendship, those types of people are easy to spot and even easier to let go when the time comes.  Eventually we get fed up being lied to and simply let the friendship dissolve until all we have left is the memories.  This is an end we see coming and usually, it’s one we’re ok with.

The Devastators: The other type of disconnect is more brittle and reaches the depths of our core a little more.  It’s the people who tell you exactly what they think you want to hear, but only because they’re truly nice people. They know all the right words and they say them at the right times, essentially causing us to believe everything they say.  And really, it’s because they just want to make us happy.  The trick, as always, is to look deeper, to see how much the actions match these words. In the best kinds of friends, you don’t have to look hard.  They match right up.  These are the people you want in your life.  These are the people you never let go.  And then there are the devastating times when they don’t.  You keep listening.  You keep wanting to believe.  You keep hoping the effort catches up to the words.  So many times, it doesn’t, no matter how much you want it to.

And when it doesn’t you have a decision to make.  Do you stay in that relationship, knowing you are essentially “second place”, a back-up plan only worth half?  Or do you simply break free?  Which pain do you endure?  The pain of staying or the pain of going?

Well?

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Small and Sound

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Happiness is a tricky creature.  It’s something we’re taught since birth to want while we’re simultaneously taught that it’s unattainable.  We’re constantly being bombarded with messages stating that what we have is great buuuuuut…it could be so much better.  The whole idea of “the grass is always greener” has never been lost on me, making me constantly and haphazardly jump between “YOLO” and “be happy with what you have”.

Then there’s the fact that lately I feel like I have let my happiness be contingent on other people.  Words of affirmation and love, little moments of attention, things that made me feel like I was worthy of something; worthy of being, all simply because someone else is making he effort and believing that too.  But when those things fade, or don’t happen, or minds get changed, then what do you have?  I’m left feeling empty, bitter, alone, and blaming not myself, but that other person who let me down, when really it’s my fualt for putting so much power into their hands in the first place.

I love to make other people happy.  When I’m around happy people, I tend to be happier. Unfortunately, because I like to make people happy, I believe others are the same way. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they don’t care about your happiness at all.  Sometimes they tell you what you want to hear, because they do want to make you happy, even if they don’t mean everything you’re saying.

And there in lies the conundrum.  I put my happiness into the hands of others instead of simply doing what I can to make myself happy.  Playing with the kids, watching a movie within someone I love, reading a book, talking to a friend, going to the gym.  All little variations of my happiness.  And all things that I need to focus on instead of sitting around and waiting for someone to make me happy.  I have the ability to make myself happy.  But it’s hard and sometimes I just feel like I CAN’T.

But not today.  Today was different.

It’s days like today where I really feel like everything is going to be ok.  Me writing outside enjoying the beginnings of a sunset and the early evening breeze rustling through the gazebo. The house is quiet.  The wine has been poured.  I feel put together, whole, complete just being in this moment.  It’s almost as if over night my entire world has begun to make sense.  Recently, I’ve felt like my life was a puzzle and as I’m trying to put it together there are just too many pieces.  Figuring out the ones that fit together and deciding which ones need to be discarded to make the most complete picture has been difficult.  So many times in my life I feel so lost and pulled apart, that when I get moments like this, it feels like heaven.  No anxiety about the future, just clarity and peace. I’m praying it is simply not the calm before the storm as it has been so many times before.  Unlike those other times though, I’m choosing to believe that things are headed in the right direction.

Everything up until now has been leading me to this moment.  I feel like my life is on the cusp of something big.  I have no idea what it is, but the best part is that the possibilities are endless.

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