parenting

Sometimes smaller is better

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

Usually around this time of year I begin to compose a post that is an ode to my favorite holiday. I. Love. New Years. LOVE. It has always been my favorite since I became a “grownup”. There are the lights and fireworks, being with your loved ones, and of course, the idea that the very next day is a blank slate. A do over. A new beginning and a new chance for anything.

Like I said, usually this post would be about all of that stuff. But not this year.

As I sit here and write, my house is in complete disarray. It is a literal shit show. And for someone who has anxiety related to clutter and crap, this is not good. Two of my kids have been sick. One is under-medicated and annoyed by the very one that only wants to spend time with him. The ear infection/lose tooth kid has been a terror because she’s been getting up before the sun. They all have. Every morning at 5:30. I am on break. Please sleep. Or rather, let me sleep.

And this is why instead of cleaning my house, or writing about love and magic and second chances, I have mandated that everyone lay down for the next hour and nap. I’m not naive enough to think any of them are actually doing it, but the doors are closed and it is quiet for five seconds, so that’s good enough for me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this year and all the goals I made for myself last year…and I didn’t accomplish a single one of them. Don’t get me wrong, I have accomplished a great deal. But just not what I set out to do 12 months ago. I’ve barely run, let alone finished a race. I’ve gone into more debt (hello lawyer fees). I’ve added more stress to my life. I’ve definitely gained weight, because see above.

But I learned how to fight. I learned how to stick up for myself. I learned how to surround myself with people who appreciate those things and say goodbye to the ones who don’t. I’ve complained less. I’ve appreciated more. And while I’m not living my life while working from home in my RV, where I am right now is pretty great.

So, as I sit here with a glass of wine at 12:52 on a Monday afternoon (again, see above), I’ve come to realize that big goals and big resolutions aren’t all they are cracked up to be. Sure, I accomplished far more than I set out to, but still, had I made more manageable goals, maybe I would have gotten even further.

I’ve decided to set 5 goals for myself at the beginning of each month and document them here. That way, not only can I keep myself accountable, I can also hopefully inspire someone to “play” along with me and be my hand holder and cheerleader (and warning giver should I stray).

January Goals

  1. Finish four weeks of Couch to 5K – Running at least 3 times a week. I just spent $215 to sign up for these races, so I better actually do this. I love running. It has helped me through the toughest times of my life. I know it can help me again. Along with this, I’m going to drink less and eat healthy more (just not making it a concrete goal yet)
  2. Go to the gym at least once a week…to actually work out. I know this doesn’t seem like much, but baby steps, y’all. I paid for Merritt for months and never used it. I’ll hopefully update this goal in February, but I need something attainable right now.
  3. Unfollow all toxic people on social media. And by this what I mean is toxic people to me. People that make me feel less than or unworthy. People that complain way too much. People that live negatively and miserably. These people may not be toxic to others, but as someone who feeds into the climate around them, they are definitely toxic to me. While I need to use my phone and social media less to begin with, while I’m on there I need to surround myself with people who inspire and uplift me.
  4. Start each day with a daily gratitude. Each and every day I will pick one thing that I am grateful for and hold on to that idea throughout the day when things get rough.
  5. Decrease my daily phone usage by 10%…and do the same with the kids’ technology. Enough said. I use it too much for stupid shit and I need to learn how to put it down and read or write or cross stitch or something.

I’m definitely ready for these changes. They’ve been a long time coming. I’m ready to make my 39th year the best one of my life.

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.

Quiet Contemplation

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

I know it has been a moment since I posted anything on my blog. It’s not that I don’t know what to say, (a million thoughts run through my head every single second) it’s just that I never give myself the time to sit down and write. So, on our last day at the beach, I am giving myself a few minutes while the children are happily ensconsed in their technology.

If you’ve seen me on Facebook or Instagram at any time in the last four weeks you know that I am completing a run streak. I have completed it a few times before, when I first got into running, to challenge myself and see how far I could go. And now I’m attempting it again in the hopes that I can find that self that I lost.

It’s been a few years since I have been able to finish it, always attempting, but usually giving up somewhere in the teens when I decide “It’s just too hard”, or “I can’t do it”, or “I’ll try again next year.” But for some reason I decided that this year is going to be different. I was going to finish. I was going to complete all 39 days and somehow all my problems in life would be solved.

And yet, here I am at day 33, with only one week to go, and I am contemplating not finishing.

There are a variety of reasons that I sit here and try to decide if I’m going to fit a mile into my life somehow today, and really, if it’s even worth it.

Parts of my body are hurting…like really hurting. And I know it’s probably because I’ve done too much, too soon. The run streak was designed to challenge you. And it definitely has done that, but its has also taken it’s toll.

It’s really hard to get this done on vacation. Running around after the kids at the beach and the pool all day, in the hot hot heat is exhausting. And then, to pile a run on before or after that is awful. The humidity here also makes it tough. I’m running a lot slower and a lot shorter distances than I was at home and it’s starting to take a mental toll on me, constantly wondering why I am even running in the first place if I’m going to get worse instead of better.

And I am getting worse, I know that. Because I am NOT taking breaks, I’m running all the time so I am NOT cross training like I should. I’m just going through the motions of getting it done. While this streak started as a motivator, it has turned into a chore. And it is stressing me out. Making sure this gets done every day is causing me anxiety. Being tired and in pain every day is causing me a anxiety. And I know all these things are not making me the best mom I can be.

The best part about the run streak is that after finishing day 32 I know it accomplished what I wanted it to. I am getting back to my life. I am going to keep running.

I just have to decide if I’m going to do it every day for the next seven days. I just have to decide if it’s worth it.

Lost and Found

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

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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Abandon all hope, ye who enter the teaching profession

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself within a dark woods where the straight way was lost.” ~Dante Alighieri – Inferno

Most teachers I know believe that this was their calling.  They wanted to work with society’s youngest and most impressionable.  They wanted to “make a difference” and “change the world”.  The wanted to inspire and mold the next generation; the generation that would undoubtedly take over when they eventually perspired.

This was not me.  I never wanted to be a teacher.

I started college as a pre-med student, wanting to be a surgeon first, then a medical research scientist.  Once I discovered that chemistry and I would never be friends, I changed my major (to be honest, there were about 50 in-between) and picked up a dual degree in psychology and sociology.  I was going to go to graduate school and do research about the world; why it was broken, and what I could do to fix it.  Or I’d work at a non-profit.  Or join the Peace Corps.  Eventually I would probably teach, but to the “big kids” and the grown-ups who had a choice about taking my class.

But, as life has a way of showing us, it didn’t work out that way.  My senior year of college brought forth: a disastrous internship at the Baltimore ACLU, the GRE’s, 9 grad school applications sent out (1 acceptance), and a part time job working at the pre-school on campus.  It was there, working in the pre-K/kindergarten class, where I discovered my love of the little people; the tiny scholars who would one day change the world.  I discovered beginning writing, circle time, centers, recess and story time. I discovered a lovely world full of hope and amazingness.

And I also discovered something I was actually good at.  I remember the exact day, sitting on the carpet with my “friends” and realizing that this is what I wanted to do…forever.  I immediately found graduate schools education, got my M.Ed. in early childhood education, got certified, and embarked on my life path. I was ready to change the world, one five year old at a time.

Fast forward to 6 years post grad school.  I am no longer a teacher.  Yes, I work at a public school in Baltimore.  Yes, I am in a classroom. But I am no longer a teacher.

I am a data analyst.

I am a paper pusher.

I am a photo copier.

I am a lesson planner.

But I am not a teacher.

I was hired to be a teacher, but I very rarely get to do my job.

Beginning writing is now forced handwriting.  Circle time and morning meeting (character and community building parts of the day) only happen if we can keep it under 10 minutes.  Centers are nonexistent because I’m usually either still teaching my pre-prescribed scripted lessons from the district (yet still have to write multi-page lesson plans) or I am testing and the rest of the class has to do busy work.  Recess?  What’s that?  We barely have time to look out the window to check the weather for our weather graph let alone go outside and PLAY.

The other part of my day I get to be a bouncer and break up fights, stomp on sassy attitudes, and continually call and text parents of disrespectful students.  Why?  Because their ENTIRE day is one big structured minute after another and they get NO time to act their age.  We can barely take a bathroom break without it interrupting too much instruction.  And even then I could bet you that most of them don’t actually have to use it: they simply just want to get up and walk around for a minute and just be.  But I have to get through it all.  Whether they can do it or not.  Whether we’re ready or not.  Because if not, I’m the failure.  Not them.  Not the system.  Not the district.  Me.

If I’m going to be completely honest, I think this may be the year I decide to not be a “teacher” anymore.  It’s just too much and I can’t keep up with all the “extra” non-teaching things I have to do on a daily basis.  I’ve said before that there is no way I can be an effective parent and an effective teacher and I whole heartedly believe that because by the time I get home after working a 8+ hour day I still have to make dinner, pack lunches, and spend quality time with three of my own little people.  By the time I finally sit down at 9 pm to do the 2-3 hours of nightly work that I have before going back to school tomorrow, I AM DONE.

So something gets dropped.  We eat pizza instead of a healthy meal.  I put on a movie so I can work.  I just don’t get the school stuff done and I look bad.  And once I’m caught up, the vicious cycle starts over and over and over again.

There are lovely moments, don’t get me wrong.  But that’s what they are – moments.  Fleeting glimpses of what teaching used to be.  Smiles and math manipulatives and bright-eyed understanding.  And it’s always just enough to get me to think maybe it’s not so bad.  Maybe I can keep doing this.  Maybe I’m over reacting.

But then I check my email.  Or get a text from an administrator about something I forgot to do.  And I realize there is no winning.  Not for me, or my colleagues, or the students.  There’s simply getting by.  And I know this isn’t enough.

Are we ever going to be able to just TEACH?

teacher humor

 

The Proverbial Itch

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

““That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.” ~Charles Dickens

This happens every few years.  The proverbial itch.  That feeling I get when I can’t sit still.  It’s usually proceeded by a great life change.  Two years ago it was the death of my father.  Now, the birth of my newest child.  With my father it had a lot to do with me rebelling against him, his death, and the need to prove that I am still very much alive, even when he was not.  It was a need to prove that in a great upheaval, a great depression, I could still be happy.  I felt the need to break free, go crazy, and prove that there was still “something” left in me.

But now, I’m starting to get that feeling again.  I look at my daughter as I hold her in my arms at just 17 days old and think that I have never loved anything in my entire life as much as I’ve love her.  And for someone like me, this can be very scary because when you love something that much, you now have something to lose.

Just the other day I was walking around my neighborhood and I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that spring seemed to bloom overnight.  The trees seemed to be bare one morning and then alive with light and color the very next day.  And I found this to be the way I love my daughter.  Unsure during my entire pregnancy if having more children was the “responsible” thing to do and then within minutes of her being born not being able to imagine living my life without her in it.

But these are scary feelings and sometimes they seem stronger than I am actually able to process within myself…hence the itching feeling, hence the need to break out of my own skin and shed the uncomfortable feeling of being unable to process so much.

The last time I made choices, and while many of them weren’t very wise choices, they brought me to the place where I am today.  I’m stronger than I once was, I’ve discovered my love for running, I have an amazing new daughter, and I’m the most confident I’ve ever been.  I learned a lot about myself during this time of upheaval, most importantly, to take myself seriously and not let anyone be in charge of my happiness.

But two years ago I did it all wrong. Two years ago I decided that the problem wasn’t me and that it was everything else around me.  At that time running away seemed like the only option.  And while I didn’t run away per se, I left my life behind for a while and jumped head first into something different and something unknown.  I assumed that this would help me feel better.  I assumed that this is what I needed to survive.  But what I realized was just the opposite.  Running away from my life nearly broke me.  I became a shell of the person I was and it took too long to rebuild myself.  I don’t have that kind of time anymore.

Now, things are different.  The main difference, of course, was before I wanted to run away and now I simply want to run.  I’m looking forward to being able to run again.  To getting out there are pounding the pavement and smashing my problems as I work through them.  Maybe this time the itchyness is a good thing; it’s a desire to get back to work on my and continue to my journey to becoming the best person I can be.

And that’s exactly what I’ll do – for me, for my family, and now for my amazing little daughter; the answer I never new I was looking for.

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Reinvention?

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“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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