Renn Faire Privateer Gone Mom.

Sunday, October 30, 2011


I haven't blogged for a bit.  I've wanted to though.  The clarity it affords me is amazing.  I'd like to encourage everyone to journal or blog; it forces you to actually sit down and examine what's going on inside your head.

I'm writing tonight to say, I think I found it.  The spiritual outlet I've been seeking.  That SOMETHING that eludes me on a daily basis and, like a dust speck, every time I try to focus on it the light shifts and it disappears.  Let me start by saying that I've never felt I belonged to a church.  I've never been one for God and scriptures.  If I can't experience it with one of my 5 human senses, I just can't accept it.  What does that leave me with, in terms of available religions?  Not a lot.  I'm not one to take giant leaps and faith is hard for me.  But, I was blindsided tonight. 
To backtrack: I've always been fascinated by the celestial.  Moons, stars, the sun, zodiacs, constellations...  I never chose to learn much about anything beyond how to find the big dipper and what being a Gemini really means, but if it had a celestial theme, I was drawn to it (as proven by my childhood room decor and the tattoo I designed for my family).

In my recent literary searchings I picked up a book on Wiccan Traditions.  My dearest childhood friend is Wiccan and I've always thought it interesting.  I've been picking through it over the last week or so but tonight...  here's that blindside I mentioned before.  I got to a chapter on Wiccan themes.  Like many religions, there are branches.  Without realizing it I came upon the Celestial Theme.  I don't know how to explain the revelation I had.  I almost feel stupid for not realizing it earlier.  If this is what people mean when they say they were 'just drawn to it', I now completely understand.  This is something I have already wondered at, based within something I can see, I can experience the effects of it in my everyday life by walking outside and see it by looking into the sky.  

Coincidentally (or not?), tomorrow is the eve of the Wiccan New Year.  Samhain marks a fresh start and I will mark it as the first day of a new path on this journey of rediscovery.  I haven't been this excited about something, felt so deep down that this is right, since I walked down the aisle to Zach's waiting hands.  
I am eager.  I am terrified.  I am relieved.  And, I am grateful.  I think this is it.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Defining Super Mom

Another rough morning.  Cabin Girl spent 10 minutes in the shower doing who-knows-what and then threw a fit when I told her it was time to get out for the 3rd time because she hadn't even washed yet!  Cabin Boy #1 is still sick, teething, and cranky and Cabin Boy #2 wouldn't let me put him down at all.  So it was a hectic and tense morning trying to get ready to get out the door.  I could have saved myself a bit of time and grief by just driving the 6 blocks to CG's school, but that just seems so wasteful, not to mention lazy.  Plus, the boys love riding in the stroller.  We made it out of the house on time looking like a colorblind clothes rack had vomited on us all and were almost to school when a woman headed in the other direction said, 'Wow, you're Super Mom!'

...let's recap.  CG required constant nagging to get ready for school.  'Dry off and get dressed, please; Get dressed; Honey, eat your breakfast; leave your brother alone and eat your breakfast; EAT YOUR BREAKFAST!; Where are you shoes and socks?;  Why don't you have your shoes and socks on yet?'  You get the idea.  Meanwhile CB1 is insisting that he's still hungry after his banana but refuses to eat his cereal, says no to pears, applesauce, and anything else I suggest. Finally, CG starts telling me what she wants in her lunch.  We get to granola (fruit and grain) bar and CB1 loses his shit.  He won't stop screaming until I give him one.  Through all this, I'm trying to nurse the baby who is gassy and fussy and all I want to do is find a circus to run away with.   I think it goes without saying that I'm getting progressively crankier.  I eventually just put the baby down and let him fuss while I wrangled the big kids into their shoes and coats, not very nicely, I must admit.

So, I was definitely caught off guard when this woman called me Super Mom.  How could she be serious?  I let my infant son scream while I let my older son have snack foods for breakfast and yelled at my daughter to get ready for school.  My house is an absolute disaster.  I have 6 overdue library books.  We've had leftovers and grilled cheese sandwiches the last 2 nights in a row, the Halloween decorations are sitting in the middle of the dining room table waiting to be set out, dirty dishes abound, and my husband and I have no clean, public worthy clothes.  BUT.

I chose to walk my kids to school this morning.  And, even though I felt drained already, I did my second day of the Couch to 5K program's second week interval training.  When I got home I switched out the laundry with one hand (and the occasional foot) while holding a squalling baby in the other.  Then with CB1 happily sitting down with another snack I set the baby down to let him cry while I put more apples on the stove for a small batch of applesauce with pears (still waiting to be mashed and canned...).  So, in light of everything, does that make me a Super Mom?

I'm left thinking that today, for me, yes.  Instead of driving to school I walked.  CG loved riding her scooter as usual and riding in the stroller was an instant pacifier for both boys.  Rather than giving in to my emotional exhaustion I pushed myself to do something for me and I walked/jogged for 20 minutes.  I didn't lock myself away in my bedroom as soon as we got home but actually managed to get part of a chore done.  And I let the baby have a few minutes to get a bit of energy out so I could make a nutritious snack for my bottomless pit children.

Now, the boys and I are sitting on the couch after a quick trip to McDonalds (I'm totally addicted to the Monopoly game) and library and a nice visit with the neighbor, snuggling in blankets, watching 101 Dalmations.  I'm looking at the dirty floor, I can feel the dishes on the counter staring at me through the wall, and I'm thinking about the other half a million little things that need to be done and I'm okay with it.  

Because maybe being a Super Mom isn't defined by your life as a whole but the little triumphs you manage to achieve on a daily basis when every iota of your being is screaming at you to go back to bed.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Found my big girl panties

This morning started off rough; Cabin Girl woke up with a mild fever which Cabin Boy #1 had as a precursor to the croup he's currently fighting.  Cabin Boy #2 must be getting my immunities because he keeps fluctuating between mild fever and sleeping a lot to perfectly fine.  Poor CB1's throat is sore and he's coughing that nasty barking cough that panics every parent.  I nursed the baby, got the kids settled with their cereal then I went into the laundry room to get some laundry going and *splash*...

Flooded.  The toilet in the closet bathroom in the laundry room overflowed and flooded both rooms with at least 1/2" of toilet water.  Ugh.  Apparently there's no drain in our laundry room.  Awesome way to discover that.  Cue tears and angry text to The Captain (he's the only one that uses that bathroom).  Baby starts crying, big kids are yelling...  Eventually I just turned on the t.v. for the big kids, made sure baby was safe and happy, rolled up my sleeves and got down to business.

It's amazing the kind of clarity you can achieve when scrubbing.  While I wouldn't count it as a soothing activity it was definitely nice to have the precise goal of soaking up the water then mopping... twice.  Sometime during my cleaning I decided to start my day over and it helped.  I suppose making the kids take a nap at 11 helped a lot, too, but, there you have it.

Sometimes you just need to decide that the panties you're wearing will have to do.

PPD is the first step

My chunky monkey, Cabin Boy #2, was born a scant 9 weeks ago.  His 5 year old sister, Cabin Girl, and almost 2 year old brother, Cabin Boy #1, absolutely adore him, as does The Captain and I.  But...

It's hard this time.  REALLY hard.  For reasons I can't explain I haven't been able to bounce back yet.  I haven't vacuumed in weeks.  The kitchen is never clean.  Clean laundry is hard to come by.  I lose my temper multiple times a day over stupid things like cups being put in the sink instead of on the counter.  I'm avoiding being social.  Every day The Captain comes home from work and I feel like I don't deserve this amazing life and opportunity he's giving me.  This is my job: clean house, healthy kids, healthy meals at a decent time on a daily basis.  It has been for 5+ years.  So why can't I do it?  I literally, physically CAN NOT get my ass off of the couch unless one of the kids is screaming or has been begging me for food for 10 minutes straight (just to be clear, I don't starve my kids, they've just thought I'm a mobile buffet since the instant they were born and MUST eat every 30 minutes or they will die) or the toilet has flooded the bathroom and laundry room (a story for another day).  I had a tiny case of the blues after CG and absolutely no problem after CB1 was born, so what's the big freaking deal?!

Post partum depression.  My therapist and I are working on it.  I talked The Captain into letting my parents find a new home for our 2 year old dog so that I'd have a little less on my plate and he's stepped up a bit with the kids in the evenings but there's still an underlying feeling of failure and unworthiness in everything I do.  Why is it that now that, as a mother of 3, being a mom is what defines me the most but it's not enough for me anymore?  I'm mediocre at sewing, cooking, singing, scrapbooking and poor at best in the garden.  I have an interest in fashion, photography, music, travel, art, and medicine (I even have an MT Training Program waiting to be studied in my multipurpose room) but I grab onto something and obsess over it maniacally for a month or two and then lose interest.  Unfinished projects abound in nearly every room of my house.  I have plenty to occupy my time yet I spend my days mentally drifting, seeking that SOMETHING that will make me feel like me again.

So here I am.  Taking my homework a step further than my therapist probably intended, but, there's my manic tendencies again: latching on and going 110% with it.  This week it's making a list of the activities/scenarios that I find soothing.  Here's what I have so far:

Singing/listening to music

My goal is to be sure of myself again.  As a woman, mother, and an individual.  Hopefully we can get there without too many tears.