Construction Zone

Shortly before Dan and I got married, someone who I thought was my friend broke my heart. Without going into the details (which in hindsight seem a little silly to me anyway) let me just say that this particular situation, coupled with a whole lot of rapid changes in my life - marriage, pregnancy, a new baby, parenthood, and most of my day-to-day friends at the time moving cross country - it was a recipe for disaster.

I built up a lot of walls. It wasn't the first time, but in the past I'd built them up, and knocked them down, built them up, and knocked them down. This time - I knew I was not knocking anything down ever again. I was completely uninterested in making new friends, even though our status as new parents almost necessitated it. I was done with making myself vulnerable. I had a new marriage and a new baby to protect, letting anyone else into my fragile heart seemed like a monumentally stupid idea.

You can't stop it, though. Or at least I can't seem to, even when I'm actively trying. I've always had a bit of a sense for walking into new situations and being able to zero in on the one or two people in the room who might eventually become important to me in some way. Sometimes it takes awhile for it to actually play out, but I'm rarely wrong - and I often have very clear memories of our earliest encounters, or even just the first time I see someone. Even so, I've spent the last several years keeping people at arms' length - even people who my gut has told me are the right ones.

Some of them have probably slipped away. But some didn't, and let me tell you - I am crazy lucky for it.  Someone who is now very dear to me had to actually say to me two or three times "Hey - feel free to cultivate a friendship with me" - and it took me months and months to actually do so. I am so fortunate that she didn't just shrug her shoulders and give me up as a lost cause.

What I'm trying to say, and not doing it very well - is that it's nice to have friends again. It has taken a very, very long time. But I think I have finally built some doors and windows into my walls.

Slipping through my fingers

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete

Oh simple thing, where have you gone? 

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on 

So tell me when you're gonna let me in 

I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree

I felt the branches of it looking at me

Is this the place we used to love?

Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go somewhere only we know?

Somewhere only we know?

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go? So why don't we go?

Oh, this could be the end of everything

So why don't we go somewhere only we know?

Somewhere only we know?

Somewhere only we know?

Transformation

One day last summer, a friend of mine was babysitting another friend's three year old son. Knowing the boys would be attending the same preschool in the fall, she invited Jacob and me over to play.

It could not have gone worse.

Jacob started wailing before we were even on the porch. "I DON'T WANNA PLAY! I DON'T WANNA MEET A FRIEND!" NO NO NO NO NO!" When we stepped inside, he just started crying harder. While I tried unsuccessfully to calm him down, he was actually climbing me like a tree, trying to get as far away as possible from my friend - and a child who is possibly the least threatening preschooler you can imagine. After several minutes of Jacob sobbing like I was trying to kill him and showing NO signs of calming down whatsoever - I gave up, shrugged at my friend and apologized, and we left.

That day was replaying in my head over and over while I tried to prepare Jacob for preschool. He was unenthusiastic at best about park play dates with the kids who would be his new classmates. He did not want to talk about going to school at all. He would barely look at his teacher when we met with her. Worst of all, on our "practice" day of school before school actually started, he clung to my side and would not even consider participating in circle time.

When school actually started, Jacob surprised me by actually letting me leave him there (even though he cried in the van on the way for several weeks,) but I still had serious concerns and spent many mornings waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Fast forward five months.

Jacob is so happy at school. He has friends - and one of them is the little boy he wouldn't even look at over the summer. He barely even waves goodbye when I drop him off. His teacher tells me that he is eager to try whatever activities are laid out for the day, he participates in circle time and music time, and often takes on leadership roles with his peers. I get to see it for myself when I assist in his classroom. He is a totally different child, in a wonderful way. Watching him blossom like this does my mama heart so much good, let me tell you. I never worried about Elizabeth in group settings - she always thrived in them. But to have those concerns about Jacob and then to have them just melt away with a little bit of time, a loving teacher, and a supportive cooperative preschool environment... it's like magic.

So proud of this boy.

Embracing Ordinary

So give me my chance, and give me my wings

And don't make me think about everyday things

They're unnecessary

To someone who is very

Extraordinary

Like me
~"Extraordinary", from Pippin

circa 2003

That girl? She had it all figured out. She was going to have it all, and go everywhere, and do everything. She was in grad school, and she KNEW THINGS, MAN. She had a good entry level job in her chosen career, had been promised a promotion upon completion of her MA (which never materialized, but that's another story) and she was about to get engaged to a guy she was head over heels madly in love with. The whole exciting world of adulthood sprawled out in front of her, the possibilities seemingly endless. She was going to do BIG, IMPORTANT stuff. She didn't know what it was yet, but SHE WAS GOING TO DO IT.

And she tried to, for a long time. She worked really hard at being everything to everyone. She finished her MA, she got married, she got pregnant, she helped launch one of the largest projects her workplace had ever been involved in, she had a baby, she found the perfect daycare and went back to work, and then she had another baby, and went back to work again. She spent a lot of time applying for and interviewing for high profile positions around the country - often landing the interview, but never closing the deal.

She had it all, or very close to it anyway. And she was miserable.

Morning glow, morning glow

Starts to glimmer when you know

Winds of change are set to blow

And sweep this whole land through

Morning glow is long past due

~"Morning Glow", from Pippin

August 2010, the weekend after I (unknowingly)

closed my summer program for the last time.

On a blazing hot day during the summer of 2010, I'd had a particularly rough day in a long series of rough days. I was standing in a swarm of kids with a clipboard full of the names of other people's children. In a moment of clarity, it occurred to me that a few miles away, someone else was standing in a similar swarm, with a clipboard with my children's names on it. I was paying dearly for the privilege - daycare costs for two very young children exceeded my income by more than I care to admit, but I had it in my head that I needed to hang on to my job and my career at all costs. I still needed to be and pursue everything. I was still chasing extraordinary.

Things were tense at home. Money was tight, we were both overworked and exhausted, and the kids were responding negatively to our stress - especially mine.

That fall, Dan was exasperated and worried because I was basically never happy and constantly lashing out at everyone. One evening on the ride home from work, he interrupted my litany of complaints with something he had said before but that I'd never really heard:

"Why don't you just quit and stay home with the kids?"

Every other time he'd said it, I'd dismissed it completely, both verbally and internally. This time was different. I still blew it off in the moment... but something in my brain clicked, and I let the thought marinate for a little while.

Why not? Why DIDN'T I just stay home with the kids?

The truth was - I was scared. I was scared that I didn't have it in me to be what they needed, even though I had spent a decade working with literally thousands of children. And I was even more scared to leave behind my career... what I saw as my last path to being different, special. If I walked away now, what was I? Just another stay at home mom? There's no way to parlay that into anything extraordinary. Even though the writing was on the wall, I still let myself rage against it for a little while longer, unwilling to purposely shrink my world.

Everything has its season

Everything has its time

Show me a reason and I'll soon show you a rhyme

Cats fit on the windowsill

Children fit in the snow

Why do I feel I don't fit in anywhere I go?

~"Corner of the Sky", from Pippin

  May 2011, filled with angst on my last day at work.

(For the record, I cheered up after a whole lot of sangria.)

I was ready to leave my job - I'd been ready for a long time. But I wasn't really ready for what it meant to be a full time stay at home mom. I struggled - and still struggle - with guilt and worry.  I cocooned myself and the kids into a simple routine that made it possible for me to avoid interacting with most people. I didn't know where I fit in. I felt cut off from my old community, even when it reached out to me and tried to support me in our new situation. I avoided old friends and didn't even let myself dream of making new ones. I was terrified of seeking out a new community, although I was basically forced to find a place in one anyway when Elizabeth started kindergarten. It was a tumultuous time, and after about a year or so I began to wonder if I would ever evolve past feeling like a stranger in my life, in my kids' lives.

Rivers belong where they can ramble

Eagles belong where they can fly

I'm not a river or a giant bird

That soars to the sea

And if I'm never tied to anything

I'll never be free

I wanted magic shows and miracles

Mirages to touch

I wanted such a little thing from life

I wanted so much

We never came close, my love

We never came near

It never was there

I think it was here
"Magic Shows and Miracles", from Pippin

 Late last spring, several things happened at once. Elizabeth finished kindergarten and turned six. Together, we finished our first year together with her girl scout troop - leading it was the one big thing I'd forced myself to take on, because I wanted that experience for her so badly, and there was no troop for her at her school. Jacob began attending weekly play dates with the children who would be in his preschool class in the fall. We launched into a busy summer full of swimming lessons and day camps and library workshops and trips to the pool and t-ball games. In the midst of all that sunshine and activity, I somehow found myself breathing easier... enjoying myself. I was actually talking to the other adults around me. The skeptical side of me figured it would pass, it was just the pleasant, carefree pace of summer that had me feeling better about things. I hadn't had an easy summer in ten years; when I was working it was the busiest time of year for me because of the nature of my job.

To my shock... the feeling stuck. I found myself looking forward to fall, to scouts, to preschool. I felt comfortable in my own skin again - even though everything, every detail about my life was nothing truly notable. I'd actually go so far as to say that this is the most comfortable with myself and my choices that I've ever felt, and there is something so very freeing about that. I no longer equate "extraordinary" and "worthwhile" - which I never even consciously realized I was doing until recently.

Everything about life these days is ordinary, unremarkable... and totally worthwhile.

Morning glow, by your light
We can make the new day bright
And the phantoms of the night
Will fade into the past
Morning glow is here at last
"Morning Glow", from Pippin

October 2012, and finally settling in.
 

Sunset

Dear 2012,

Despite the trials of the last several weeks... I need to thank you. Thank you for reminding me to look for the sun. Thank you for teaching me that I am, in fact, quality SAHM material. Thank you for a beautiful summer full of great times with the kids and the beginnings of so many new paths in our lives. I believe something in me woke up this summer, something in me began to truly heal and allow me to move forward and pursue new friendships again. Thank you for Triangle and everything it has already done for Jacob and for me. Thank you for 23 amazing Daisies and the opportunity to help them (and me!) grow every week, and for two wonderful co-leaders and friends to share the journey with. Thank you for my beautiful niece; it's unbelievable to me how much I adore her. Thank you for leading me back to church; I don't know how I would have gotten through the last several weeks without the return of that peace and ritual to my life. Thank you for my husband and his steadily improving health; please let 2013 restore and renew us both. Thank you for a beautiful Christmas and the calm and confidence it brought me.

You were not without growing pains, 2012. You were not without heartache and hardship. But the lessons learned have been worth it.

My humble gratitude,

S

The Deep End

I have a confession to make.

I am spoiled. Spoiled beyond belief. My husband? He has always done the lion's share of the housework, including the cooking. He is also a super involved dad, and never hesitates to take on anything involving the kids - although stuff specific to the kids has always been my arena and largely my calls, even when I was working outside the home full time. But the household details like dinner? Laundry? Grocery shopping? Dan has always taken care of that stuff, leaving me to focus fully on the kids and their needs. And even though it probably should have, that didn't change much when I left my job.

We rolled along like that for a long time. Right up until Thanksgiving, in fact.

Then, on Thanksgiving, Dan suffered a spontaneous pneumothorax (translation: collapsed lung) that refused to heal. Between Thanksgiving and mid-December, he was hospitalized three times, culminating in an invasive surgery that hopefully has fixed the problem, but we honestly won't know for sure for awhile yet. In addition to feeling like you'd expect a guy whose lung won't stay un-collapsed to feel AND recovering from major surgery, Dan has some pretty specific limitations right now. He is not supposed to lift more than ten pounds, he can't drive, and he has almost no stamina. And although he is definitely slowly but surely on the mend, as you can imagine, he's a little frustrated.

Especially since he also has two small kids and a spoiled wife.

We could not have survived the hospitalizations without the help of our family and friends. My parents took the kids overnight several times, my mom burned up some sick time coming to stay with the kids so I could be  at the hospital with Dan. Dear friends helped me shuffle around kids and cars, sat with us in the hospital, brought food, texted constantly... we were never alone. Help, love, and support came to us from every corner. If this entire ordeal has taught me nothing else, it has taught me just how very blessed we are.

I have to tell you though - when it comes to stuff around the house? I have STEPPED UP. I am taking care of business, man. I have done all the laundry. I have done all the housework. I have handled almost every single meal since Thanksgiving. I re-learned how to grocery shop, because I haven't had to grocery shop in seven years.

Judge if you must. But let me say - in addition to learning how blessed we are by the people who surround us - I have also learned just exactly how strong I am. I have never had much confidence in myself... until now. I can DO this! I AM doing this. Every day. Not alone - never alone. We get by with a little help from our friends, and sometimes it's a lot of help. But I don't think I'll ever feel helpless again, at least not when it comes to little day to day things that I used to find unbearably overwhelming.

It definitely sucks for Dan that this happened, don't get me wrong. But the silver lining is that when life finally tossed me in the deep end - I found out, without a shadow of a doubt, that I can swim.

Sweet freedom whispered in my ear

I admit it, I skipped the hard part.

I was never a SAHM to infants; Elizabeth was almost five and Jacob was two when I resigned. In fact, it's probably pretty much cheating to embark on a SAHM adventure when your kid is starting kindergarten, but oh well. Honestly - I feel like Elizabeth needs me at home more now than she ever did as a baby or toddler, and I don't see that changing any time soon. Being an at-home parent to a school age kid allows me to be present in other parts of her life in a way that my particular career never would have allowed. People have already started asking me what I'm going to do when Jacob starts kindergarten - and right now, I hope the answer is "this."

It means I can lead a girl scout troop.
It means I can volunteer in classrooms.
It means the kids can be in almost any activity, no matter what time it is.

And it means I can *gasp* pursue some of my own interests! Cultivate friendships! Read without anyone screaming in the background! Shame on me for admitting it! But the freedom that comes with Jacob being in school even just two mornings a week is intoxicating, and has definitely left me wanting more.


Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater, I know. ;)