challenges

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.

Summer is Different This Year

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The past few summers have been a shit show. I mean, I’m sure there’s a better way to put it, but why sugar coat it. They were.

There’s the summer three years ago when I sat around every single day trying to find the courage to tell my husband that I was leaving. The amount of stress and exhaustion were enough to kill me…and I’m pretty sure they almost did.

There’s the summer two years ago where I was still scared of doing anything wrong. Anything at all that could make me somehow lose my kids. And the guilt of leaving was still so fresh that I constantly gave in to unhealthy behaviors simply to stay afloat.

Last summer was the worst. Going through the divorce and custody battle caused my anxiety to be at an all time high. I was nervous going anywhere even when I didn’t have the kids because something could go wrong. I couldn’t make one wrong decision or one single misstep because it could come back to bit me in the ass. I actually think I have slight PTSD from my custody/divorce battle. I actually had to turn my email notifications off my phone because hearing the ding reminded me of all the emails from my lawyer and I actually start to shut down.

This is the first summer where I finally feel free. Free to go on vacations with and without the kids. Free to make decisions without constantly worrying about what someone else might think or make an issue of. Free to mention Joe’s name without worrying about the repercussions.

It’s an amazing feeling, but you know what’s funny? It’s almost like a piece of me is missing now. I held on to all that worry, all that anxiety, all that anger for so long, that there is a void. What do I worry about now? What do I think about now? What should I do now?

Luckily, it’s still summer and for the first time in forever I can allow myself to find these answers. I can allow myself to figure out who I am or who I want to be. And most importantly I can actually allow myself to breathe.

The Things We’re Not Supposed to Say

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I’m supposed to be at the doctor today, 10 weeks pregnant, giddy from the idea of hearing my baby’s heartbeat and maybe getting a sonogram. Instead I’m sitting in my pajamas trying to get comfortable with the idea that I just had a miscarriage. As in JUST. As in this morning. On the day I’m supposed to confirm that everything is ok, it most definitely is not.

We knew this was a possibility. The numbers were low early on. The measurements were slow early on. Everything was being treated with a grain of salt. There was always a 50/50 chance of things going either way. Things could be fine…or not. So for six long and hard weeks we played the waiting game. Always waiting for the next appointment. Always waiting for a definitive answer that things really were OK. Or even that things really weren’t OK. Something more than the 50%.

Because while the 50% may have been a blessing for some, it was slowly and ferociously eating at my soul. Never knowing what was what. Never having control. Never being about to do ANYTHING to help this situation. I cried a lot. And slept a lot. As do most people at the beginnings of their pregnancy. But really it was more than that. It was the constant weight of the wondering and hoping while also trying to be realistic that was crushing me.

But now, it’s over.

This is not my first miscarriage, but it is by far and away the hardest one yet to endure. There was the ectopic before Max. And the miscarriage before Max. And the miscarriage after Oliver on Mother’s Day. And the miscarriage the day Charlotte turned 10 weeks old. This is obviously not my first time here. But this one is different. Not only is it because it is with someone new, someone who I love more than anything, someone who I wanted to share this very special and sacred thing with. Not only because I was further along than any of the others and literally had to feel the miscarriage. Not those things. With each miscarriage before there was always the idea of trying again. That there will be more opportunities. And at this point in my life, I just don’t think that’s true.

And I know we’re not supposed to talk about these things. We’re not supposed to put this shit in the universe. It’s all supposed to be unsaid and hidden, deep down in the core of our soul. But really, why? Because we might make someone else uncomfortable? That’s mostly why I write instead of talk. You can read it if you want. Or not. That’s your choice. But I’m sad and hurting and to me, keeping it inside makes it worse. It makes me feel like it’s my fault. It makes me feel like this is something I should be ashamed of. It makes me feel like I’m alone.

AND. NONE. OF. THAT. IS. TRUE.

So I’m going to pick myself up and put on some running clothes. I’m going to open the blinds and let some sunshine in. I’m going focus on the things that I can do now: a second cup of coffee, hot tubs, hiking part of the Appalachian Trail in April, running, wine, brie, and so many other things. While I know it won’t take the pain away, it will remind me that I’m still here. I have still have things to do. I can still make plans to make my life extraordinary.

And I can hug my three little miracles a little tighter each night knowing they truly are a gift to me every single day.

Appeasing the Universe

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The other day when it was snowing I made a deal with the universe. If we had a snow day I would run a 5K and clean the house.

I got my snow day. And I cleaned my house.

And then I went to the gym, fully invested in running this 5K today. And I made it about half way. And even that half way was tough.

As someone who ran a half marathon and trained for a marathon (yes, before quitting), not being able to really finish a 5K was beyond humbling. It may have even been a little humiliating.

But at the same time, I’m glad I stopped. I’m just getting back into running and I know if I would have kept going I would have been in pain tomorrow and then yet another workout would not get completed.

So I thought of a better way to appease the universe. Maybe I didn’t have to actually run the 5K today. Maybe I just had to commit to one…really commit.

So I did.

I registered for the Kelly Shamrock 5K in Baltimore. This will be the first race I’ve completed since the Turkey Trot when I was pregnant with Charlotte. Oh, I’ve signed up for a bunch since then, but I haven’t completed a single one.

This is also the first 5K I ever ran the entire race. Granted it was in 2014, but I’m seeing that as a sign.

I’m ready to do this all again.

The Mighty – 52 Small Things

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So, I’m jumping on the bandwagon on week 3 of the The Mighty’s 52 Small Things. Each week The Mighty emails a new self-care challenge to be completed. These things are small: Set a goal, find gratitude in your daily life, etc. The idea behind it is instead of making grandiose New Year’s resolutions, you would make small attainable ones and never stop growing throughout the year.

This week’s challenge is about journalling. I constantly say I want to keep up with this blog better, but never actually do. I think this is the perfect way to reach that goal!

Here is this week’s challenge:

This week’s Small Thing is three-minute journaling. We’re challenging you to spend three minutes writing down your thoughts. At the end of the three minutes, you should jot down at least one thing you are grateful for. You don’t need to go out and buy a journal to do this — in fact, it’s probably better to try writing out your thoughts for a week before you make the investment. You can journal as a Thought on The Mighty with the hashtag #52SmallThings, on a random piece of paper, or on your phone — wherever you feel comfortable. If you journal privately, we’d love for you to still share what you’re grateful for each day by posting a Thought with the hashtag #52SmallThings!

Today I posted my challenge on Instagram, but I’m going to copy and past it over here as well!

Happy Journalling!

There’s something I’m missing

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“Things which matter most must never be at the mercy of things which matter least.” ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Today is September 19th.  On September 7th, my littlest one turned 5 months old.  And I didn’t even blink an eye.  As a matter of fact, I didn’t even notice the milestone until today when a friend of mine, who had her baby 2 weeks after me, posted that her son was 5 months old today.  My first thought was “Oh!  How cute!”  My next thought was “Shit!  That means Charlie is already 5 months…and I missed it.”

We could blame this conundrum on the fact that she’s number three in a line of little people.  But that’s not the case at all.  It’s not a case of “these milestones don’t mean as much with #3”.  As a matter of fact, it’s the exact opposite.  I should be cherishing these milestones even more BECAUSE she’s number three, and more likely than not, the last of the littles.

But I didn’t.  Because it passed by me unnoticed.  Because once again, life got in the way.

There’s running practice.  And team meetings.  And leadership duties.  And teaching.  And lesson planning.  And mentoring.  And.  And.  And. The list never stops.

I spend more quality time with the students I teach than my own children.  Maybe that’s why this school year seems to suck so much.  I resent these little five year olds for no fault of there own.  I resent them simply because they get my time and MY little ones do not.

There are currently 50 pictures of running practice on my phone.  There are 37 pictures of my students.  There are 2 of my children.  On average I see my children awake for three hours a day.  Three.  And let’s be honest.  These are not quality hours.  During this time I am also making dinner, answering work related texts and emails, packing lunches, giving baths and showers, and trying to divide my already scattered time between 4 people who want my undivided love and attention the minute I walk through the door.

And there are times, I’m not proud to admit, that I pray for an earlier bedtime simple because I have still MORE work to do and I want to start it as soon as possible so I can go to bed before midnight.

Then, there’s the things that I need to do to keep my sanity about all this that I simply haven’t done.  I haven’t run more than once a week since school started.  I just paid for an entire month of the gym without going once.  Ritz crackers are becoming bad habit to break as I snack while I work.  I haven’t read a new book in forever.

I feel like there’s got to be a better way.  There must be something I’m doing wrong.  There HAS to be a way to do it all.

If not, I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do.

Happy 5 month, Charlie bear. Here's hoping I don't miss 6.

Happy 5 months, Charlie bear. Here’s hoping I don’t miss 6.

And so we begin

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“I dare you to train for a marathon, and not have it change your life.”  ~Susan Sidoriak

Tomorrow’s the day. The day I take a breath. The day I move on. The day I continue moving forward. The day I put the past behind me.  The day I emerge from the ashes that is my mistakes.  The day I work for what I want. The day I make my plans a reality.

Tomorrow’s the day I begin training for the TCS New York City Marathon.  It’s going to be hard.  It’s going to be rough, on both me and the ones closest to me. It’s going to be life changing and that’s what I’m counting on.

I’m excited and petrified.  I’m ready and not ready. I’m worried and surprisingly calm.  I’m all this and more.  I’m a myriad of emotions I don’t even have words for.

Tomorrow’s the day…the day I become who I was meant to become.

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Teach your children well

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“So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.” ~ Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

I had a different post I was going to write about tonight.  I was going to post about the fact that today my kindergartener came home on “yellow” because he couldn’t focus at writing time.  I was going to post about how my four year old thinks no one loves him anymore (in his words) because sometimes we are busy with the new baby.  I was going to post about how  Mike had class tonight so it was just me and the three kids and with the above mentioned factors and Charlie going through a growth spurt and for the first time in three weeks I started to think that maybe I couldn’t do this…

I was going to post about all these things and how they made me feel like a failure as a parent.  Then, as I log into social media for the five minutes I have to breathe, I see the destruction that is Baltimore.  I see the peaceful protests being marred by the loiters and the rioters.  I see stores being burned to the ground and people being hauled off in ambulances.  I see a newly constructed senior center being engulfed in flames less than two blocks from the school where I teach and I wonder if MY 25 kindergarteners are all right.  All of this is hitting way too close to home and I feel the tightness in my chest start to rise.

And with that I realize that in the grand scheme of things being on “yellow” for one day is not the end of the world.  And in 10 minutes Oliver will come to me for a hug and kiss and validation and be back to his normal self.  And Charlie will finish her growth spurt and go back to my happy, adorable baby.  And that none of this is catastrophic because we are all loved, and safe and ALIVE.  All I want at this moment is to keep them home, little, and protected with me for as long as I can.  I want to teach them about these moments while shielding their eyes and hearts from them at the same time.

This is exactly what I think as I turn off Twitter, rush upstairs, and hug all my babies a little tighter.  Because right now, we are OK.

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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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Starting Over Yet Again

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“Life is tough, but so are you.” ~Unknown

Looking through old items on my phone a few days ago reminded me of just how tough last February was.  I had just picked back up with my running and wasn’t impressed with my progress.  It was very snowy and the kids and I were going stir crazy.  I was an overly emotional wreck, which I chalked up to nothing and everything all at once.

Flash forward to this February…which hasn’t been much better.  It’s been a month since I’ve run because I’m finding it close to impossible to run in the late stages of pregnancy.  The weather hasn’t been that great and while I am enjoying my extra time off, I’m not enjoying my car continually needing work and the below zero temperatures that have kept us all indoors.  And once again I have been an overall emotionally wreck, which, I wish I could chalk up to being super pregnant, but unfortunately I know that’s not the whole reason.

But now it’s a new month.  With March comes the promise of sunnier days, *slightly* warmer weather, baby delivery, and simply a time of rejuvenation and starting over yet again.

I constantly feel like I’m starting over could be considered both a blessing and a curse.  I have to keep starting over because in reality I keep failing.  Promises and goals not kept, excuses constantly given, deals made and broken are all keeping me right where I deserve to be.  I feel like I’m in a whole and I can can totally figure out how to get myself out of it, but I just don’t do it.  I know it’s going to take work and discipline and self-sacrifice, but I am never consistent with any of these things.

On top of it all I really haven’t been able to run and it’s killing me.  I use running as a form of therapy.  It’s time for me to work out the problems in my head.  It’s time for me to be alone (which is close to impossible when you are a Kindergarten teacher with a stay at home husband and two small children).  It’s just a time for me to be completely and utterly myself and I haven’t had that in a while.

I understand, though, that the ability to start over is a blessing.  Each new day gives me a chance to try my hand at my goals one more time.  And each day I wake up thinking this is the day I’m going to make it work.

I need to stop making excuses.  I need to readjust my goals until this baby comes.  I need to readjust my goals period.

What do I want to accomplish?  Who do I want to be?  What do I want to do?

I need to process.  I need time to think.  I need to run.

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