I’m not sure what I fear or why I won’t put my thoughts down on paper during these times.  Maybe it’s because I’m so at a loss that I fear I’ll sound angry or ugly.  I don’t want to be ugly.  Maybe it’s simply that I’m tired and the mental energy it takes to rehash life’s stresses is simply too much.

During the past few weeks, I’ve come to realize how fortunate I am to have started this blog.  It brings so much to my life.  My family knows where my head is without ever having to ask.  Some friends that I’d since lost touch with are now back in my life full swing.  New friends have emerged.  I am truly blessed.

In my last post I spoke of my son’s separation anxiety issues and how overwhelmed we’ve been with him at nighttime.  Well, nights have gotten better but life in general with him has become way worse.  As a response to my previous blog post, a dear friend living on the opposite side of America in part wrote me:

I don’t pretend to be a nature lover so bear with me on the accuracy of these details. Picture a baby bird. It is born in its nest, and the mother bird (much like us) provides everything for her baby. She searches for its food, keeps it warm, fends off predators, and as the baby bird begins to grow in size, strength, and independence, it begins to learn on its own. Over time, the baby bird relies on the mother less and less. She teaches her bird how to fly and together they look for food. Yet, at the end of the day, no matter how much the baby bird has flown on its own, it returns to the nest. It is in the nest that the baby bird finds its warmth, security, and reconnects with mom. While it couldn’t be happier with its new found independence, there is still that need to get home to the safety of that nest.

With each passing year, BC has grown more and more independent. He plays more independently now than ever, he is busy growing and learning at school, he is swimming like a fish and gaining confidence…all these things are letting him stretch his wings and grown. Maybe by the end of the day, he has exhausted that independent energy and needs a few minutes to reconnect and recharge in the nest with you. Isn’t his song, “You are my sunshine”? Perhaps he just needs a few minutes alone each night with you. It seems like that was all it took when you gave him the authority to say when you could leave.

At this response, I cried.  She actually took time out of her busy day to check in on me and see how I am doing.  She spent time researching each problem and concern I emailed her.  She reached out to me from a place we’d never imagined we’d reconnect.  My blog.  Other blogging moms have also come to my aid offering childcare, play-dates, drinks… I’m so grateful.

I’m never one to reach out and ask for help.  I generally try to solve all life’s problems by myself.  Moments like these make me eternally grateful to those who can read between my lines and see that at times I’m just a mom, needing a good shoulder to cry on.

Silence equals stress

I like to pat my own back, toot my own horn, if you will, on occasion.  I generally think I’m gifted in the mothering category.  I got skills!  Or so I tell myself.

But just as I find myself getting cocky again, my dear children smack me down and throw off my equilibrium.  I quickly re-realize how many skills I still need to grow.

Take for example my four year old’s separation anxiety gone haywire.  A veteran mom has her set of tools, a solid bedtime routine, a vision of parenting that goes something like; start as you want to continue. We have routines.  We don’t vary far from the script.  My son knows what to expect.  Life trots along according to plan until *bam* I’m smacked in the face with a severe case of separation anxiety. Him, not me.

Wha…wha…what??  Um, excuse me, that’s not in my script.

This week I reached my breaking point.  I needed help.  Nothing I or my husband did helped calm or sooth BC’s nighttime/transitional fears. NOTHING.

In addition, hearing, “Mama” (A word I despise from the get go, I’m Mommy, thank you very much!) “I need you!” in the same tone and pitch repeated in the same rhythm for two straight hours is akin to Chinese water torture to me.  PAINFUL.

Earplugs didn’t even help.

I cried uncle and finally called the advice nurse Saturday night.  I was at a loss.  No great plan, no big picture, I was stuck.  I was called this morning and BC was scheduled an appointment with his pediatrician for 1:30 today.

I had a plan.  Relief was on the way.

At 1:30 I packed up my tired daughter and my hooky-playing son and headed off to see my lifeline, the doctor.  His doctor.  A woman, who I hoped, would realize that I’m a mom who doesn’t overreact or freak out over small issues.  That my concern was HUGE and WORTH her time.

1:30, I show up, exhausted and seeking help only to find out that I have an appointment scheduled with ANOTHER doctor, one with a reputation for a BAD bedside manner.

How could this happen? I exclaimed, I specifically said MY doctor.  My eyes welled up with tears.

No relief today. I left empty handed, with an appointment at the end of the week.  It was time to prepare myself for anther 2 hour kicking, screaming, scratching all out hysterical meltdown.

No relief.

After a good cry and a shower, I decided to pull up my boot straps and try again.

I formulated a temporary plan and did something different.  Instead of telling BC that I would lay with him for 5 minutes (part of our old routine), I decided to let him dictate the amount of time I’d lay with him.

I gave away my control.  And if you know me, you know how monumental that act was.  I. am. in. control. damn. it.  But I gave it away.

And I’ll be damned if that little stinker didn’t send me out of his room after only TWO minutes, promising me he was ready to sleep calmly without torturing me for the next two hours.

Two Minutes.  I gave up control and the problem, tonight, was solved.

Days like today, I realize that I, in fact, don’t have all the answers.  If I just take the time to listen to my kids, maybe they’ve been SREAMING their needs to me the whole time.

Skill Learned, BC, skill learned.

Separation Anxiety

Thankfully when BC woke up this morning, he came running out of his room, smile on face, straight into my arms. Thank goodness children are so very resilient.

Hopefully BC’s getting close to the end of this new defiance phase and all can go back to normal in our house.

I wrote about our exchange over at SVMB today.

Growth as a parent

Ya, not fun.

eClaire got it bad yesterday with a temperature reaching 103 degrees.  BC’s had the temperature the day before eClaire’s.  So he’s better except for a nasty snotty nose and one hell of a cough.

Today started better than yesterday proved to be.  eClaire was a bit more herself.  She actually had a bit of food at breakfast!!  Yeay for food.  Apparently it does a body good… if only I could reason with a two year old… sigh.

But the day got progressively worse.  Both Hubby and I have been struggling with upset stomaches and mine came to a head this afternoon. And poor Hubby began his new work week tonight.  Did you catch that?

Tonight.

That’s right folks, my husband job has turned him nocturnal four out of every seven days.

Good times.

So when he woke up from his late afternoon nap, he was met with a hysterical wife, laying on the couch, a messy house, two kids who wanted attention, and mere hours until he was expected at work.

I went to bed, eClaire had horrible, horrible loose stools and required baths.  And through all of this, BC was extremely helpful.  Thank God for small gifts!

It’s now the middle of the night and between Hubby and me, we’ve cleaned up no less than 6 disgusting diapers, one throw up, and a messy house.

My kids were fed breakfast at 7:00, snack around 10:00, a sandwich at 4:00 (oops, momma forgot lunch!) and no dinner.  Ya, forgot that one too.

BC got a, “Sorry honey I forgot to feed you,” yogurt at 8:45 tonight.

Parenting at it’s best.

So now I’m off to sleep in eClaire and BC’s room, BC is sleeping in my room because he has no sign of flu symptoms yet… and Hubby will crawl into our bed as the sun rises, to sleep the day away and attempt to recover himself.

Parenting.…sigh.

The Frackin’ Flu

I am a public school teacher and I work in one of strongest academic districts in the Bay Area. The school I teach at routinely ranks in the top five in California. It’s that good!

My school is also a ‘choice’ school, meaning that it is students come from all over the school district. You have to choose to send your kids there. Therefore school admission is based on a lottery. When a child’s number is called a parent almost always pulls their child out of their current private or public school to enter ours.

I know what great teaching is all about. I’ve seen both sides, the good school environment and the bad.

This is the best.

So why am I fretting about school?

Simple. I don’t live in the school district in which I teach.

Teachers can’t afford to buy a house there.

I have two children. My oldest will enter kindergarten a year from September and he cannot go to the my school.

Kinda stinks, doesn’t it?

Often one of the benefits that many school districts offer their teachers is automatic admission for their children. On top of it being very convenient for us, it also ensures the district that we teachers stay put for the duration of our children’s schooling careers. Teacher retention is quite a problem in Silicon Valley. It’s a win win.

But since my school is a choice school, my own children don’t even have an option of attending.

So I fret.

I’ve seen great. I teach at great. I want great for my kids.

The school district in which I live is alright. It’s neither great nor bad. My kids will probably do fine while attending school in this district. But then I think, Is alright good enough for my children?

No.

My husband and I have discussed private education, moving, public schools, private schools again.… But truth be told, two public servants living in Silicon Valley simply cannot afford a mortgage and one private school tuition, let alone two tuitions as my daughter enters school.

So we’re stuck. Private school costs too much, while public school just might not be great enough.

When it comes down to it, I’m just as confused as the next mom trying to do her best by her kids.

Any suggestions?

Originally posted at Silicon Valley Moms Blog

A Teacher Fretting About School

Hubby’s surgery was Monday.  He’d doing fine.  He’s a trouper really.  He’s in a tremendous amount of pain that the prescribed drugs barely control.  But each day is slowly getting better.

Slowly.

Hubby is a terrible sick patient.  When he has the flu, I often want to flee the house for sunnier places.  But usually we end up at the local ER for a bit of re-hydration instead.

Suffice to say I’d set the bar quite low for Hubby post-surgery behavior.  But, amazingly, he’s doing really well.  He’s set up in our bedroom with a DVD player and about a bazillion movies that he’s allowed to watch without much interruption.  He’s even been able to re-watch that damned movie Blackhawk Down, that I watched once. only once. and will never ever watch again.  and make Hubby quit watching when I am home.  Ya that one.  It’s like he gets a vacation from life, really.  Well except for that throbbing shoulder.  But whatever!

Anyway.  Back to me.

Life is crazy.  I’m tending to three seemingly helpless beings all day and all night long.  I’m tired.  And I’m a slave to the clock.  7:00 food, 7:30 meds/kids food, 8:30 more food, 9:00 meds.  10:00 snack 11:30 lunch, 1:00 nap 2:30 more food 3:00 meds, 3:30 snack for kids, 5:00 dinner, 6:30 get kids ready for bed, 7:00 more food, 7:30 meds/get kids to bed.

Somewhere in there I need to clean the house, do laundry, shower myself, my kids, and my husband.

I need to walk the dog take the dog for a quick bike ride around the neighborhood because she’s getting pretty board around here and has decided to show her stress by eating full sized rocks and then throwing them up the following morning.  Good times.

I think I need a nap.

I’m snappy.  The kids are bugging me.  And they are being completely normal.

But Hubby’s doing well.  And he’s been able to watch like 15 movies in the past five days!  How cool is that!

So, he’s suppose to begin feeling better by about 6 weeks post-op.

The count down beings.

Only 5 weeks 2 days to go!

But I suppose I should just shut up and be thankful that I have two strong shoulders and no need for surgery.  Right?

BWHhhahaha

Please.

Have we met?

Dis-Abled.

You wake up at 4:00 A.M. without really sleeping at all. (alarm is set for 5:15)

You drive to work and are sitting at your desk by 5:45 A.M.

Your husband calls and just holds up the phone so you can ‘experience with him’ the joys of raising two toddlers. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA x 2

When your husband calls to say that he’s on his way to Costco with the kids to buy you a Christmas gift, you realize that you didn’t just think, but said aloud, “Make sure you don’t buy me a bunch of junk this year for Christmas…” and then proceed to name off multiple things he’s bought for you in the past that you deemed “junk.”

You’re sitting in the staff room during lunch telling a story and realize everyone’s is looking at you sideways and it dawns on you that you arn’t actually speaking in coherent or complete sentences.

You realize that your day is only half over.

Ya, it’s been one of those days.

Just one of those days

We’re home free in 15 minutes!  Kids are going to bed and we get to relax.

Mistake Mistake Mistake!! (Never, ever say such a thing and expect the next 15 minutes to go smoothly!)

Hubby looks at eClaire and says:

Come on honey, I’ll read you One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish before bed.

eClaire was thrilled.  She jumped up and went tearing around the corner toward her room.  Just as she neared her door, she tripped.

I saw it happen.  BAMM! eClaire flew head first straight into the door jam.

Hard.

Really Hard.

She stood up, held her breath and amped up for the scream of all screams.

By the time she began to run toward me, she was in full scream.  It was packed with agony, pain, fear.

And so was I.

In a matter of 5–15 seconds I watched a knot on her head develop that was at least 3 inches high and 1 1/2 inch wide, and bright blue.

I began to panic.

eClaire was hurt.  Really hurt.

After about 3 minutes we realized we needed to take a visit to our local ER.

The long of the short of it is that eClaire is OK.  She’s fine. There is no skull fracture or concussion.

What did happen though is she hit a blood vessel and it burst, causing the instant swelling.

Yesterday afternoon I got home from work and she still looked terrible, but her mood was quite improved.

Thank goodness!

How does a mom do it?  How do you stand tall, keep your calm, and walk through these terrible moments with your child?  How?

Are moms allowed to retire when their kids are still young?  I’m looking to put in my papers next week!

Retirement?

eClaire will most certainly miss her afternoon nap, so I’m expecting the worst on the plane.

It’s only an hour and 15 minute flight.

It’s only an hour and 15 minute flight.

It’s only an hour and fifteen minute flight…

I can make it.

Hopefully.

Honey, have that glass of wine ready for me when the kids and I get home!

Wishing me luck

One day we had a sub and a math test. I ‘borrowed’ a girls calculator and cheated on the test. Mindy, a bitch in her own right, was jealous of me, or simply hated me. I’m not sure which it was. Regardless, the next day she told our teacher that I stole her calculator and cheated on a test. During that same day, before I knew that Mindy told on me, I decided that it would be a good idea to flip off the teacher from outside her classroom.

Ya. She saw me.

Three Strikes. I knew what was coming. My parents, educators who always sided with the teacher, would be called.

I got home from school, put on my pajamas, crawled into bed and stayed there. The talk with my parents happened later that night.

I was paralyzed by fear.

I still tend to react this way in extreme stress. I’d like to say that I rise above, fight through, and come out a better person.

I don’t. I retreat.

Jump forward twenty eight years to today.

Now I’m paralyzed by fer over our finances, a responsibility I took on many years ago.

It was always the feather in my hat. I entered every receipt into Quicken, paid every bill on time, and had a killer organizational plan.

Then I had BC. Things got a bit more sporadic, but manageable.

Then I had eClaire. Between February 2006 and November 2006, not a single receipt was entered, bills were paid when we could, our savings was being depleted, and stress was high.

I was paralyzed by fear.

Hubby bailed me out by taking over the receipt entering responsibility, but the rest was still my job.

We’ve refinanced our house, so the mortgage payment is slightly less, Hubby got a promotion, so his paycheck is a little higher, and I am beginning to be a more active manager of our money.

Yet I’m still paralyzed by fear.

I’ve needed to reconcile our credit card statements for weeks now. Finally I made it my Makeover Monday goal this week, simply for added accountability. Yet I still waited until 9:30 tonight to start.

Since Hubby and I made the decision for me to work a little as possible, three years ago, so I could stay at home to raise our two children, our financial life has been very tight.

Me being on top of our finances is paramount to us not slipping into debt and having enough discretionary income to do the things we want to do.

Oh how I wish I’d go into hyper drive when stress hits. But at last, I don’t.

I think I need a nap!

Paralyzed By Fear