I have never been a great listener and am just now realizing it. I hear people, and I care a whole lot, but my actual listening talents are often buried under my enthusiasm for helping people solve whatever problem they are talking about. I'm really working on this. One of the things I am learning through my life now is that sometimes I just want a sympathetic ear, not a problem solver (although don't get me wrong. I have also received amazing advice and insight. Don't stop...). I used to feel like throwing out my ideas and "fixing" things was how I showed I cared. I get now that effective listening is often just being there and asking questions and allowing the talker to work through something on their own as well as recognizing that they know their situation and themselves best and can ultimately handle it unless they specifically want input. My intentions were always good but may have come across incorrectly. I'm learning and I am grateful that I am doing so before my kids are of an age to want to discuss more with me than detailed Spongebob Squarepants plots (which, if I am being honest, I don't really want to listen to!) I think I have a few years yet to practice.
I am also learning to listen in other ways. I'm sorry to say that I am one of those who has been compelled to be humble. I was a fairly lukewarm church member for most of my life. I didn't really have a problem with my amount of faith but definitely did with my dedication. It's amazing how much a crisis can bring you to your knees in more ways than one. I am grateful though. Although I am far from loving my current situation or the one that got me here in the first place, I am grateful to know that I am heard. I'm grateful to know that when it all just gets too heavy (and it frequently feels that way) I can ask for the burden to be shared and it is. It doesn't mean it isn't lonely. It doesn't mean that I magically have accepted my new life and it doesn't mean that getting out of bed is not still a challenge. It just means that I am given the extra strength through whatever means God can use to help me square my shoulders, get up and keep going after the daily stumbles and falls. I have felt strength come from nowhere when I didn't think I could take one more step and I have felt peace when I could have sworn it was not possible. Before this happened to me, I didn't know you could feel this level of emotional agony and still live without going crazy. I hope no one else reading this ever has to empathize with that statement (just take my word for it). But I also didn't realize what the Atonement can do for the sufferer as well as the sinner. I stand all amazed.
In return, I am trying to listen to promptings I get. I am always chagrined when I ignore something that turns out later to have been a clear prompting. The more I listen, the more I am rewarded by getting the things I need. For instance, I came very close to talking myself out of going to church yesterday. This last weekend, the kids were at J's. In theory, I should have felt rested, but in so many ways it is more emotionally exhausting not to have them than it is to physically have them here and have to run around meeting needs. By the time they come home to me, I feel like I have gone my fifteen rounds. J dropped them off in time for church and I thought I was ready to dive into getting us all ready to go. Somehow, I forgot about 'behavior boot camp' and the extra time I need to get them back on an even keel after a party weekend with dad. Junior came in the door immediately announcing he was sick (he wasn't, but the little stinker has learned early on that it gets him out of things. He doesn't know that his mother was a master at that particular trick). Bubba was so wired that he couldn't even keep still enough to get his pants on. Sis woke up a little early from her morning nap and was starving to death (according to the volume of her howls). I ran around combing hair, finding shoes, shooing boys toward their coats, packing a diaper bag, breaking up fights, etc. all the while thinking that we should just skip Sacrament meeting because we were running so late. No big deal. The boys were protesting having to get dressed up and I hate to walk in late with three kids. This wouldn't be the first time I have given in to this voice and I was so close to doing it again. I probably would have if not for certain resolves I made on Sunday the week before as well as an insistent whisper that there was something I needed to be there for. Remember how I am doing hard things now? I decided to listen. I braved the late walk in (and of course, the only seat available was up near the front). We hurried in, heads down, and after I got the kids situated, I realized the Stake Presidency was there to speak. I absolutely love those men! J and I were in their office every week this summer as we tried to untangle what was going on in our marriage. They saw Sis from the time she was just two weeks old (she came with us every week) and every week sat down to chat with me (without being bothered that I was constantly in tears no matter what we talked about) as I waited for J to finish his turn with the Stake President. Despite the constant flow of people in and out of that office, they always remembered my name and my childrens and I was constantly touched by the love, compassion and hope they had for the survival of our family. Hearing them speak made me curse my last minute decision not to throw tissues in the diaper bag as well as the necessity of sitting up front where anyone could see me sniff (tissue-less) and surreptitiously wipe away tears. I don't know that I have ever spent a Sacrament meeting affected that way. I was touched when they all went out of their way after the meeting to come and say hello to us. I needed to hear what they spoke about and I was glad I had chosen to listen to a prompting that helped give me strength for the day especially since the day in question turned out to be a difficult one.
I have learned that listening, like faith, takes practice and obedience. Each time I know I was right to listen to a prompting, it gives me faith to follow the next one. Lately, it has been giving me the courage to listen to the ones I would rather not. There are still many hard days ahead. I know this, and the thought often makes me want to go right back to bed. The last seven months have made me feel at least 100 years old but I am learning to rely on the fact that I have "back up" to help me function. I'm glad to know there is someone on my side who knows me and knows what I need (and also knows how much I can handle, even when I question it myself). In many ways, I am grateful to have had to define what I believe and just how much. I'm grateful to know that I can ultimately get the answers I need.
If I just remember to listen.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
Do Hard Things
"I hate you and I want to go live with Dad!!"
This was screamed at me by my almost six year old tonight in retaliation for a time-out (he smacked his brother). From the minute J walked out the door, I expected to hear those words from at least one of my children at some point, but to be honest, I thought I had at least ten years before having that discussion. Ouch!
I sent Junior up to his room to cool off but was very troubled. I know he is reacting as many kids would, but the request hit too close to home in terms of an attitude I most definitely don't want him to adopt. One of the problems with having one parent elsewhere is that kids feel they have an "escape route" if life starts to be hard where they are. And it doesn't really help that J's isn't really a home for them. They have a room and it's where Dad is, but every weekend so far has been non-stop fun. I know this because after every "dad weekend" we have some serious behavior bootcamp around here as they have to come back to reality. I can guarantee that their lives are going to be hard sometimes living with me. They will have chores and they will have to attend church and they will have rules and consequences. They are less likely to notice the love and the sacrifice and acts of service until much later. I don't want my kids to grow up with the notion that if they don't like where they are, they can bail for what feels easier rather than do the work to fix their situation. That attitude has already broken our family. I know Junior is too young to have any real meaning attached to what he said, but given that he has started that line of thought so young I feel like I need to be proactive.
A year or so ago, J came home with a story about an acquaintance whose father would tell them when they left the house each day to "do hard things." Not "I love you," not "be careful," not "be good" although I think each of those was implied in the suggestion to "do hard things." We loved it at the time and now that I remember it, I am going to adopt it. Some families come up with a theme for the year. I want this to be my family's theme for life. If there is nothing else I can teach or show as a mother, it would be to always tackle the hard things. I know that this will require a lot of teaching by example on my part and it will definitely be a challenge. Especially now. Sometimes, doing what is hard is a choice that you know will benefit you, like dieting or exercising or walking away from that wild party or a bad situation. Other times, hard things are going to come your way because of factors that are out of your control, and in that case, you should practice meeting those things head on with grace, doing the best you can. If you think about it, most things that are difficult to do are things that will build you in some way. If you are ever in doubt which road to take, there is a good chance that the harder one is the one that is best for you. It is human nature to want to have things be easy and to want to take the easier way and I am no hypocrite. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't wished that this cup would pass from me. But at the same time, I am aware of how this experience is changing me. I hope for a day where I can be grateful for my trials. Right now, I will settle for understanding that they are strengthening even while they are excruciating. It isn't called "the refiner's fire" for nothing and as my last post demonstrates all too clearly, I am not always on top of meeting my challenges head on. I am trying though.
After awhile, I went upstairs to talk to Junior and had the first of what I imagine will be a million disussions about how quitting something is not an option. About how hurtful it is when you tell people you want to leave them. About how it is important to stand your ground and fix the situation rather than running away. About accepting when you have done wrong and try to fix it. At no point did I mention his dad's decision and that will never be part of the speech. I also realize that most of that lecture probably went right over his head, but maybe if I start at six, by the time he is 18 he will understand what is and is not acceptable for him to be a good man. My kids may not listen, but I am going to tell them anyway "Do Hard Things." It is very likely that it is something they will make fun of behind my back as they grow (crazy old mom...it won't stop me though :-)
As for me, I am going to start practicing doing the (little) hard things everyday. Try it! Take the time to get to bed earlier like you keep promising yourself. Read the scriptures, go to the gym rather than let yourself be talked out of it, visit that neighbor you have been meaning to drop in on, get your homework done early, go on that diet you have been promising yourself. Do whatever it takes to seek that faith or that testimony, carve out time to practice that hobby, go for that job you have been dreaming about, have that conversation you have been dreading, give that forgiveness you have been withholding. Take the harder road in your life. God knows that our experience here is not easy. It isn't supposed to be. "Adam fell that men might be, and men are, that they might have joy." Nothing was easy in the Garden of Eden because nothing was hard. A vacation isn't relaxing unless you have been working hard. A rest does you no good unless you are tired. We are blessed when we do the things that can strengthen us as people both physically and spiritually. Consider your soul and your resolve as you would a muscle and work it out regularly. Don't let it atrophy. Doing hard things brings humility and humility is essential to growth. If we are compelled to be humble, we are blessed for enduring it well. If we gain humility on our own, we are blessed for our obedience. Nobody ever got anywhere by sitting back and wishing that things were different or that their life would change. Maybe the idea is that the more you practice, what seemed "hard" before will eventually no longer phase you. If I could wish one concept for my kids to really understand before something in life breaks them down, it would be this motto. It applies to both the big and the little things.
Now excuse me, I am going for a run since I have been trying to talk myself out of it all night :-)
This was screamed at me by my almost six year old tonight in retaliation for a time-out (he smacked his brother). From the minute J walked out the door, I expected to hear those words from at least one of my children at some point, but to be honest, I thought I had at least ten years before having that discussion. Ouch!
I sent Junior up to his room to cool off but was very troubled. I know he is reacting as many kids would, but the request hit too close to home in terms of an attitude I most definitely don't want him to adopt. One of the problems with having one parent elsewhere is that kids feel they have an "escape route" if life starts to be hard where they are. And it doesn't really help that J's isn't really a home for them. They have a room and it's where Dad is, but every weekend so far has been non-stop fun. I know this because after every "dad weekend" we have some serious behavior bootcamp around here as they have to come back to reality. I can guarantee that their lives are going to be hard sometimes living with me. They will have chores and they will have to attend church and they will have rules and consequences. They are less likely to notice the love and the sacrifice and acts of service until much later. I don't want my kids to grow up with the notion that if they don't like where they are, they can bail for what feels easier rather than do the work to fix their situation. That attitude has already broken our family. I know Junior is too young to have any real meaning attached to what he said, but given that he has started that line of thought so young I feel like I need to be proactive.
A year or so ago, J came home with a story about an acquaintance whose father would tell them when they left the house each day to "do hard things." Not "I love you," not "be careful," not "be good" although I think each of those was implied in the suggestion to "do hard things." We loved it at the time and now that I remember it, I am going to adopt it. Some families come up with a theme for the year. I want this to be my family's theme for life. If there is nothing else I can teach or show as a mother, it would be to always tackle the hard things. I know that this will require a lot of teaching by example on my part and it will definitely be a challenge. Especially now. Sometimes, doing what is hard is a choice that you know will benefit you, like dieting or exercising or walking away from that wild party or a bad situation. Other times, hard things are going to come your way because of factors that are out of your control, and in that case, you should practice meeting those things head on with grace, doing the best you can. If you think about it, most things that are difficult to do are things that will build you in some way. If you are ever in doubt which road to take, there is a good chance that the harder one is the one that is best for you. It is human nature to want to have things be easy and to want to take the easier way and I am no hypocrite. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't wished that this cup would pass from me. But at the same time, I am aware of how this experience is changing me. I hope for a day where I can be grateful for my trials. Right now, I will settle for understanding that they are strengthening even while they are excruciating. It isn't called "the refiner's fire" for nothing and as my last post demonstrates all too clearly, I am not always on top of meeting my challenges head on. I am trying though.
After awhile, I went upstairs to talk to Junior and had the first of what I imagine will be a million disussions about how quitting something is not an option. About how hurtful it is when you tell people you want to leave them. About how it is important to stand your ground and fix the situation rather than running away. About accepting when you have done wrong and try to fix it. At no point did I mention his dad's decision and that will never be part of the speech. I also realize that most of that lecture probably went right over his head, but maybe if I start at six, by the time he is 18 he will understand what is and is not acceptable for him to be a good man. My kids may not listen, but I am going to tell them anyway "Do Hard Things." It is very likely that it is something they will make fun of behind my back as they grow (crazy old mom...it won't stop me though :-)
As for me, I am going to start practicing doing the (little) hard things everyday. Try it! Take the time to get to bed earlier like you keep promising yourself. Read the scriptures, go to the gym rather than let yourself be talked out of it, visit that neighbor you have been meaning to drop in on, get your homework done early, go on that diet you have been promising yourself. Do whatever it takes to seek that faith or that testimony, carve out time to practice that hobby, go for that job you have been dreaming about, have that conversation you have been dreading, give that forgiveness you have been withholding. Take the harder road in your life. God knows that our experience here is not easy. It isn't supposed to be. "Adam fell that men might be, and men are, that they might have joy." Nothing was easy in the Garden of Eden because nothing was hard. A vacation isn't relaxing unless you have been working hard. A rest does you no good unless you are tired. We are blessed when we do the things that can strengthen us as people both physically and spiritually. Consider your soul and your resolve as you would a muscle and work it out regularly. Don't let it atrophy. Doing hard things brings humility and humility is essential to growth. If we are compelled to be humble, we are blessed for enduring it well. If we gain humility on our own, we are blessed for our obedience. Nobody ever got anywhere by sitting back and wishing that things were different or that their life would change. Maybe the idea is that the more you practice, what seemed "hard" before will eventually no longer phase you. If I could wish one concept for my kids to really understand before something in life breaks them down, it would be this motto. It applies to both the big and the little things.
Now excuse me, I am going for a run since I have been trying to talk myself out of it all night :-)
Sunday, January 3, 2010
My Nadir
The word 'Nadir' came back to me Christmas night as I sat on the floor of my daughter's room at 5 a.m. stripping the vomit soaked pajamas off the baby for the fifth time in as many hours. It basically means "the lowest point" and is one of those random facts I retained from my college education that is so very useful to me now. In a way, being up with a vomiting baby all night long was the perfect end to what had been a truly horrific day for me. On the surface, everything went well. The boys were adorable with their new toys and no tears were openly shed, but it all started on Christmas Eve when we returned home from our dinner out and began the Christmas Eve festivities. No Dad. It was hugely noticeable and I had to try really hard not to think about how optimistic I had been last year on Christmas Eve and even harder not to wonder where he was and what he was doing that night. I finished wrapping presents and filled stockings in silence wondering how many years it will have to be this way. I finally fell into bed at 1 a.m. and lay awake until 4 a.m.
Christmas morning could have been filmed for a feel good Christmas movie because the boys were so excited and cute and full of what we have been referring to as "Christmas magic" for the last few weeks. Junior swore he saw Santa and waved out the window to him the night before. Bubba just couldn't believe that the reindeer had been on his house. Sis couldn't believe how much wrapping paper there was on the ground to eat and not one person was stopping her! I couldn't believe that their father wasn't there to share in the "christmas magic" and never will again. I believe people are supposed to be in twos to share that kind of stuff. It feels hollow to enjoy it alone and know that when I am old, no one will share those memories in the same way. It took everything I had, plus several promises to friends that I would not text J and tell him to come over for Christmas morning. He has made his choice and I need to start as we mean to go on.
He did come over for the afternoon to play with the kids and see their toys. That was a whole different kind of hell. It felt so normal to have his presence and hear his voice in the house. Every time I remembered that he chose to leave us, and was only there for a few hours, it hurt all over again. When he left that afternoon, I had a shrewd idea where he was going and I fought tears all evening. I am glad the boys were so engaged with their toys they didn't notice. I would have hated to stress them out on what had been a great day for them. So, to have Sis start puking around midnight felt like a fitting end to the day and by 5 a.m. I felt like I had hit my lowest point yet. My nadir.
I am not foolish enough to think that I do not have further to fall. Earlier on in this process, I kept wondering when I would start to feel better and that I couldn't possibly feel worse. My advice to you is to not test the universe like that :-) As I sat there on the floor with a sad, sick baby, holding back tears of exhaustion and frustration, feeling like I couldn't get any lower, I finally gave myself permission to be angry at being left with all this work of parenting along with the emotional blow I have taken ( I know, I know..). There have been plenty of other things to be angry about and this is not my first brush with the emotion, but anger at being left with the exhaustion of raising three kids five and under has been buried under the grief of losing the one person I want to share the joys of them with. As I searched for a blanket that did not have puke on it, I pictured him peacefully asleep in his apartment across town. I knew he would roll out of bed whenever he wanted (while I had yet to sleep and anticipated more puke) and knew the boys would be up and requiring help with their toys in a few short hours.
We made the decision together about when to have our children. With each decision was the implication that parenting was a joint venture for us. How did he make it okay in his own conscience to do such damage to me emotionally as well as leave me the enormous load of mothering every day alone? Parenting is a joy I would never give up, but it. is. hard!!! The times that he does have the kids is a frantic game of catch up on work and laundry and house cleaning and errands and all those things I used to do when he got home every night but can't seem to get done without another adult around to help divide and conquer. I'm beat, I am emotionally broken and now I am angry. Him being "available as possible to meet the needs of our kids" doesn't help me with sick kids in the night. Or when dinner needs cooked and the baby needs fed and the boys need attention. It doesn't help me when I need one thing at the store and have to take all three kids. It doesn't help me when I can't shower or get dressed or leave Sis's line of vision when she is sick and cranky or teething. Sis is an extremely good baby, but is starting to scoot, which ends life as we know it. I am lucky that J still wants to be involved with the kids, but I don't know how he banishes the guilt for making my life so much harder on every single level, especially when he once assured me in a letter a few years ago "I always want you to be happy because you make me happy." I believed him then and now I feel like a fool. When he was still here, I always tried to acknowledge when he needed time "off" and he did a good job of doing the same. In fact, when my world ended, I was at the point of taking on extra work to earn up money to send him on a fishing trip to Alaska because he had been working so hard for the last year. He was always good about jumping in to help when he got home each day and in return I tried to be aware of the extra tired days and would send him upstairs for a break before taking on the kids. I was happy to do it then. Now I begrudge every break he gets. I begrudge every time he gets home from a hard day at work and is able to put his feet up and watch TV, when I don't get any version of a break until the kids are in bed and even then there is stuff to do. I begrudge any time he gets to go out to a movie without having to get a babysitter. I begrudge every time he can make a quick trip to the video or grocery store without loading up three children. I begrudge every early morning that I am up with the kids while he gets up when he wants. I begrudge every cranky day the kids have and every fight I have to mediate. I feel like these are all things he has taken from me because we were supposed to parent as a team and he changed the rules on me to suit himself. I know he knows what is involved in running this house and caring for these kids. He is willing to help with what he can, but in that case, I have to also take on the humiliation of having to ask for help from someone who has so completely defeated me and brought me lower than any other human in this world had power to do. I would rather struggle on alone.
There are too many good men and priesthood bearers leaving their families for reasons unworthy of the way they were raised and the covenants they made, both official and unofficial. I am sickened by the number of stories just like mine. How do these men do this? Even those who are willing to still pay the bills are falling far short of the greatest role they will ever have. Men know it is their role to provide for the family. Is it easier for them to leave because they think that although they are hurting everyone, they are still providing for them thus fulfilling their main duty? (don't even get me started on the men who actively try to NOT provide for the families they leave behind). Is it time to redefine what fathers need to be in the home? To re-stress what kind of influence they have on their children? I don't care what kind of success J has in this life and what kind of example he tries to be for our kids or how much he loves them. I feel strongly that anything good he does is largely going to be overshadowed by this one great failure to stand up to his measure as a man and a father and to make the effort to be there to raise them. Losing respect for him is heartbreaking for me. I have always been so proud of him and who he was. So much that I insisted that Junior be named after him. At the time, I wanted him to be just like his dad. I haven't given up hope that he will someday be worthy of the name his oldest son now bears.
My current Nadir feels very low. It has been seven months and I am tired. Tired of crying, tired of wishing I could disappear, tired of being strong, tired of wondering what was so wrong with me, tired of being baffled, tired of feeling like there is a shadow over everything in my life, tired of being humiliated, tired of dreading the future, tired of the trigger days I know are coming up in the next year, tired of being so disillusioned, tired of being tortured by memories, tired of missing him, tired of being so completely and indescribably lonely. Tired of being tired. Any Pollyanna tendencies I had are all used up for the moment. This Christmas season has been brutal, although made bearable by so many kind and loving friends and family. I don't mean to seem ungrateful. It's just...
I know I will bounce back enough. I will pick myself up and dust myself off because I have no choice and my kids need a stronger mom than this. I have goals for the year and I am looking forward to focusing on some things that are positive. I am not starting 2010 like I thought I would and I have a lot of work to do. I'm grateful for everyones help and prayers so far.
By the way, one of my "goals" for the year is a cruise. Who's with me??...
Christmas morning could have been filmed for a feel good Christmas movie because the boys were so excited and cute and full of what we have been referring to as "Christmas magic" for the last few weeks. Junior swore he saw Santa and waved out the window to him the night before. Bubba just couldn't believe that the reindeer had been on his house. Sis couldn't believe how much wrapping paper there was on the ground to eat and not one person was stopping her! I couldn't believe that their father wasn't there to share in the "christmas magic" and never will again. I believe people are supposed to be in twos to share that kind of stuff. It feels hollow to enjoy it alone and know that when I am old, no one will share those memories in the same way. It took everything I had, plus several promises to friends that I would not text J and tell him to come over for Christmas morning. He has made his choice and I need to start as we mean to go on.
He did come over for the afternoon to play with the kids and see their toys. That was a whole different kind of hell. It felt so normal to have his presence and hear his voice in the house. Every time I remembered that he chose to leave us, and was only there for a few hours, it hurt all over again. When he left that afternoon, I had a shrewd idea where he was going and I fought tears all evening. I am glad the boys were so engaged with their toys they didn't notice. I would have hated to stress them out on what had been a great day for them. So, to have Sis start puking around midnight felt like a fitting end to the day and by 5 a.m. I felt like I had hit my lowest point yet. My nadir.
I am not foolish enough to think that I do not have further to fall. Earlier on in this process, I kept wondering when I would start to feel better and that I couldn't possibly feel worse. My advice to you is to not test the universe like that :-) As I sat there on the floor with a sad, sick baby, holding back tears of exhaustion and frustration, feeling like I couldn't get any lower, I finally gave myself permission to be angry at being left with all this work of parenting along with the emotional blow I have taken ( I know, I know..). There have been plenty of other things to be angry about and this is not my first brush with the emotion, but anger at being left with the exhaustion of raising three kids five and under has been buried under the grief of losing the one person I want to share the joys of them with. As I searched for a blanket that did not have puke on it, I pictured him peacefully asleep in his apartment across town. I knew he would roll out of bed whenever he wanted (while I had yet to sleep and anticipated more puke) and knew the boys would be up and requiring help with their toys in a few short hours.
We made the decision together about when to have our children. With each decision was the implication that parenting was a joint venture for us. How did he make it okay in his own conscience to do such damage to me emotionally as well as leave me the enormous load of mothering every day alone? Parenting is a joy I would never give up, but it. is. hard!!! The times that he does have the kids is a frantic game of catch up on work and laundry and house cleaning and errands and all those things I used to do when he got home every night but can't seem to get done without another adult around to help divide and conquer. I'm beat, I am emotionally broken and now I am angry. Him being "available as possible to meet the needs of our kids" doesn't help me with sick kids in the night. Or when dinner needs cooked and the baby needs fed and the boys need attention. It doesn't help me when I need one thing at the store and have to take all three kids. It doesn't help me when I can't shower or get dressed or leave Sis's line of vision when she is sick and cranky or teething. Sis is an extremely good baby, but is starting to scoot, which ends life as we know it. I am lucky that J still wants to be involved with the kids, but I don't know how he banishes the guilt for making my life so much harder on every single level, especially when he once assured me in a letter a few years ago "I always want you to be happy because you make me happy." I believed him then and now I feel like a fool. When he was still here, I always tried to acknowledge when he needed time "off" and he did a good job of doing the same. In fact, when my world ended, I was at the point of taking on extra work to earn up money to send him on a fishing trip to Alaska because he had been working so hard for the last year. He was always good about jumping in to help when he got home each day and in return I tried to be aware of the extra tired days and would send him upstairs for a break before taking on the kids. I was happy to do it then. Now I begrudge every break he gets. I begrudge every time he gets home from a hard day at work and is able to put his feet up and watch TV, when I don't get any version of a break until the kids are in bed and even then there is stuff to do. I begrudge any time he gets to go out to a movie without having to get a babysitter. I begrudge every time he can make a quick trip to the video or grocery store without loading up three children. I begrudge every early morning that I am up with the kids while he gets up when he wants. I begrudge every cranky day the kids have and every fight I have to mediate. I feel like these are all things he has taken from me because we were supposed to parent as a team and he changed the rules on me to suit himself. I know he knows what is involved in running this house and caring for these kids. He is willing to help with what he can, but in that case, I have to also take on the humiliation of having to ask for help from someone who has so completely defeated me and brought me lower than any other human in this world had power to do. I would rather struggle on alone.
There are too many good men and priesthood bearers leaving their families for reasons unworthy of the way they were raised and the covenants they made, both official and unofficial. I am sickened by the number of stories just like mine. How do these men do this? Even those who are willing to still pay the bills are falling far short of the greatest role they will ever have. Men know it is their role to provide for the family. Is it easier for them to leave because they think that although they are hurting everyone, they are still providing for them thus fulfilling their main duty? (don't even get me started on the men who actively try to NOT provide for the families they leave behind). Is it time to redefine what fathers need to be in the home? To re-stress what kind of influence they have on their children? I don't care what kind of success J has in this life and what kind of example he tries to be for our kids or how much he loves them. I feel strongly that anything good he does is largely going to be overshadowed by this one great failure to stand up to his measure as a man and a father and to make the effort to be there to raise them. Losing respect for him is heartbreaking for me. I have always been so proud of him and who he was. So much that I insisted that Junior be named after him. At the time, I wanted him to be just like his dad. I haven't given up hope that he will someday be worthy of the name his oldest son now bears.
My current Nadir feels very low. It has been seven months and I am tired. Tired of crying, tired of wishing I could disappear, tired of being strong, tired of wondering what was so wrong with me, tired of being baffled, tired of feeling like there is a shadow over everything in my life, tired of being humiliated, tired of dreading the future, tired of the trigger days I know are coming up in the next year, tired of being so disillusioned, tired of being tortured by memories, tired of missing him, tired of being so completely and indescribably lonely. Tired of being tired. Any Pollyanna tendencies I had are all used up for the moment. This Christmas season has been brutal, although made bearable by so many kind and loving friends and family. I don't mean to seem ungrateful. It's just...
I know I will bounce back enough. I will pick myself up and dust myself off because I have no choice and my kids need a stronger mom than this. I have goals for the year and I am looking forward to focusing on some things that are positive. I am not starting 2010 like I thought I would and I have a lot of work to do. I'm grateful for everyones help and prayers so far.
By the way, one of my "goals" for the year is a cruise. Who's with me??...
Friday, January 1, 2010
Family Christmas Ornament for 2009
As I mentioned in an earlier post, one of my traditions is to collect an ornament from everywhere I travel as well as get one for each child that best represents their year. I also always got one for me and J so we would still have memories on our tree even when our little birds had flown and taken their ornaments to grace their own trees. This year I assumed I would take a break. I have had very little hope and less joy for much of this year and if it were not for the arrival of my angel girl, I would be happy to write 2009 off the books forever and never think back on it again.
I might have written off this ornament as cheesy in any other year, but as representation goes, I can't think of a phrase that better describes what has gone on in our family. We have had tremendous sorrow this year but there is no doubt in the world that we have been watched over. By family. By friends. By neighbors. By strangers. By angels both seen and unseen and most definitely by God.
2009 will be represented after all on every Christmas tree in my future. Because there are some things I don't ever want to forget.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
"On Christmas day in the morning..."
I love how the tree looks with all the presents under it before things start to get pulled out and unwrapped. I set my alarm for 6 a.m. so I could come down and turn on the tree lights. I like them to be on when the kids get their first look at what Santa left. Junior came into my room at 7:30-ish with a story about how he had seen Santa and his sleigh and had waved to them from the window (sounds a lot like 'The Night Before Christmas' poem we read the night before, but whatever!) I asked him if Santa had made it and he was excited that he had. I geared myself to climb out of bed but accidently fell back to sleep while my obedient Junior went back to his own room and whispered with Bubba until the baby called for me. I guess I forgot to tell him that the 'don't wake up mom until it is light outside' stricture doesn't apply on Christmas morning. Poor kid! :-)
Pringles are an old tradition and the boys are always thrilled to get their own personal cans in their stockings.
Everything they pulled out of their stockings was declared to be "exactly what I wanted" and they wanted to know how Santa knew that. He just does...
Sis had a few presents to open but she was mostly just in heaven with all the crinkly wrapping paper lying around just waiting to be chewed on (also, she puked all over her new pajamas top, so I am really glad I did the stairs picture the night before.) Incidentally, isn't she just gorgeous? I am still trying to figure out how I got such knock out kids!
Sis's favorite gift
Bubba was not excited by his skateboard at all! :-)
Everything they pulled out of their stockings was declared to be "exactly what I wanted" and they wanted to know how Santa knew that. He just does...
Sis had a few presents to open but she was mostly just in heaven with all the crinkly wrapping paper lying around just waiting to be chewed on (also, she puked all over her new pajamas top, so I am really glad I did the stairs picture the night before.) Incidentally, isn't she just gorgeous? I am still trying to figure out how I got such knock out kids!
Sis's favorite gift
Bubba was not excited by his skateboard at all! :-)He still can't move much on it, but does a lot of posing on it. I guess the actual moving can come later.
J came over for lunch in the early afternoon and played with the kids and their toys while I took a much needed nap! We opened family presents and I scored some pajamas from Bubba and an ipod from Junior (via J). Junior got J a whoopie cushion.
Sis was thrilled by all the Christmas boxes and wrapping paper detritus left over from the day. She has never had so many obstacles in the front room before. She is really starting to move.
Bubba in his woody costume (a clearance item after Halloween. When I put it on him and the outfit was sized for a 7 year old and the hat and boots for a 2 year old, the $3 price tag made more sense. He didn't seem to mind though.)
Junior's favorite gift by far was a Martian Matter set. I now have a collection of lovingly made little aliens on my computer. Each one was made just for me. Who needs jewelry, right?
J came over for lunch in the early afternoon and played with the kids and their toys while I took a much needed nap! We opened family presents and I scored some pajamas from Bubba and an ipod from Junior (via J). Junior got J a whoopie cushion.
Sis was thrilled by all the Christmas boxes and wrapping paper detritus left over from the day. She has never had so many obstacles in the front room before. She is really starting to move.
Bubba in his woody costume (a clearance item after Halloween. When I put it on him and the outfit was sized for a 7 year old and the hat and boots for a 2 year old, the $3 price tag made more sense. He didn't seem to mind though.)
Junior's favorite gift by far was a Martian Matter set. I now have a collection of lovingly made little aliens on my computer. Each one was made just for me. Who needs jewelry, right?Merry Christmas!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Twas The Night Before Christmas...
We had our traditional fondue dinner with Britny and Jared & Co. this year. Although we were invited lots of places on both sides of the family, I am actively trying to avoid emotional triggers in an already difficult season. Everywhere we had been invited was a place we had spent Christmas Eve in a happier time. So, the Bradshaws were kind enough to take us in for the evening and we all ate cheese and chocolate fondue until we literally wanted to vomit (which is actually the sign of a great fondue party!) The kids were not a fan of the cheese, but were huge fans of the sharp fondue forks. It was a lot of fun to be there. Slightly less fun to drive home in the freezing cold :-) We love the Bradshaws!
Junior can write but still has trouble with the side to side method. This letter is meant to be read down one side and up the other. It says "Dear Santa, I want to have to best Christmas." 
Bubba's job was to count out nine carrots for the reindeer, pour the milk and pick out a few cookies for Santa (who only pretended to eat them. What "santa" actually ate was chocolate cookies brought from England and a Diet Dr. Pepper)
Junior was in charge of the letter
Hanging stockings by the chimney with care...
New Christmas pajamas (Gymboree came through for us when our usual favorite Nick and Nora's from Target turned out a lame line this year...)
The children were nestled...
...all snug in their beds...
...while 'Santa' stayed up until 1 a.m. finding and wrapping the last of the Christmas presents.
I realized I was maybe too tired when I accidently wrote "from Satan" instead of "from Santa" on a few and had to re-wrap. Not that my kids would have noticed, but still...we have had enough "gifts" from satan in our family lately, thanks! I also realized around midnight that I had hidden the candy for the stockings a little too well. It still hasn't surfaced but I unearthed a bag of tootsie rolls and a few dum dums and just thanked my lucky stars that my children are not old enough to notice the omission of actual chocolate.
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