Sick, Ill, Not Feeling Well

So why does it take a sore throat and sinus infection to get me to actually sit still for more than ten minutes? If it weren't summer, I'd make myself get up and go to work, I'd get through the day, and then, maybe, I'd go to the doctor in the afternoon and get some medicine. And back to work I'd go the next day.

Is it a mom thing? A female thing? I know it's not a male thing... Men are well known for their ability to sit through inane television shows (how many ways can an animal die/procreate/capture it's prey) or sports games, remaining primarily in the vicinity of the couch. Oh, they may leave that area to go just far enough to procure a beverage, usually beer, or a snack, but back they go until the bitter end. Women have a harder time focusing solely on one task for the length of time it takes to get through 9 innings, 2 halves, or 90 minutes. Come on, we all have our favorite sports, and I'm not saying that we aren't fans, even of Deadliest Catch. But do we really sit and just watch? I know I spend about a third of the time watching, even a college softball game, the rest is spent wiping surfaces, folding laundry, paying bills online, even playing Words with Friends or catching up on Facebook.

ADD? Easily distracted? Although these are true of myself at times, I believe that my inability to just do nothing comes from a feeling that I am unworthy. I have not earned "free" time, because there is so much more to "do". I have not (and never will have) completed my duties so am not deserving of the time-wasting activity of watching t.v. uninterrupted or just sitting enjoying the view over my backyard fence (fyi I'm not a voyeur, I live on a hillside with a view of mountains). Many women have at least a niggling of lack of self worth, of being undeserving. So my question is, why do we have to deserve something in order to enjoy it? A reward is more enjoyable when you have earned it, but who decides if you are worthy? And why on earth would I wait until I feel so miserable I can hardly move to just sit.

I've worked hard to get where I am. It's labor being a wife, a mother, a student, a friend, keeping a nice house and cars (often pleasurable labor, but still difficult) . It's a labor of love taking care of all the people who rely on me. I think I'll go open a beer and see what's on t.v.

Summer 2011

I love summer. I am off work and get to catch up on some of those projects and books and chores, etc. that I've been putting off or just haven't had time for. I feel like I have a lot of time, then the hours slip away and I've done...nothing but spend hours on the computer paying bills, looking for good deals on airfare, and catching up on Facebook!

The past couple of weeks I did spend some precious time at home watching my girls and boy and their friends and family interact, cook, swim, tan, and gossip. We plan special trips and our family reunion during these warm, relaxing months. During our family reunion weekend a cousin who follows my blog challenged me to write more often. I am going to designate a regular time for myself to write this blog and hope that the muse is there when I ask it to be.I sincerely apologize in advance for all the blogs that will be museless.

This summer is a summer of change for our family. Number One, son, is working full time, all done with school, at least for now. A doctorate is most likely in his future. Number Two, daughter, is a full time  Chicagoan, job hunting, waiting to finish one more semester. No more softball. She only came "home" for two weeks. She jammed a lot into those two weeks, but it felt, for the first time, like she was on a vacation while here, and returned "home" when she went back to Chicago. Number Three, daughter, is in that limbo between high school and college. For some reason she seems to have suddenly matured. I even watched her and her friends make a full meal all by themselves a few days ago. Okay, I had to tell them where the butter was and how long to boil the pasta, but otherwise they were quite independent! 

I told my husband last night: My job is done. They don't need me anymore and can live productive, independent lives without any input from me. Until they start having children, that is....

Seriously, Hormones, LEAVE ME ALONE!!

I woke up this morning ready to cry and kick someone's ass at the same time. Don't talk to me, don't touch me, LEAVE ME ALONE! I have failed as a mother and I have no friends. My kids hate me, my life is over, I'm old and wrinkly and fat. Any minute now I will turn into a lonely, sad, old lady sitting in a room. With cats. I'm mad that my kids are grown, I'm mad that I've missed the time I could be a triathlete or the head of a corporation. I'm just mad. And sad. Terribly, terribly sad. I even had a dream last night that my cousins called to tell me their mother died. She's been dead for almost twenty years. But I woke up feeling such grief and sadness. I'm a terrible daughter; I don't visit my dad as much as I should. I bully my mom into taking care of herself. I am a terrible wife; I complain and whine, and don't try hard enough. My kids can't stand to be around me for very long because they can't stand the sound of my nagging voice. 

HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN??!! 

I woke up yesterday and sat happily on my patio, in the sun, drinking my coffee and literally counting my blessings. I live in my dream house. I drive my dream car. I have a husband who makes me laugh and children who are not addicted to or selling drugs (or if they are, they are also able to be fully functioning citizens), and who are seeking or have achieved college degrees. Both of my parents are still living. I have an amazing relationship with my sister, and wonderful friends around the world. I am truly blessed. 

So how does it happen that the next day I can wake up in such a foul mood, feeling so low? Is it something I ate? Is this my true disposition rearing it's head, pushing aside my usual "glass half full" philosophy? Nope, I know, it's that bastard that comes whenever it wants now and smacks me upside the head; it is the bane of middle aged women, turning us into shrieking, crazy people who can't remember shit (I, the excellent speller, had to ask my English-language-learner husband how to spell 'shriek'. He thanked me and said he was honored but had no idea) and who sink into the abyss then soar to the heights of hormone-induced depression and ecstasy. Menopause, will you please LEAVE ME ALONE!

More Milestones

They just keep coming, and I can't stop them. Time passes, I get older, my kids keep moving on...  Every flippin' year I hear these words come out of my mouth - "Wow, so much has happened this year!"  And so it goes...those milestones roll right over me every time. I'm going to start calling them mileboulders,

Claire's college softball team, in 5th place in their league at the end of the season, came from behind to WIN their league tournament, meaning they move on to Regionals this weekend. It's like being in the finals or going to Hollywood on Idol. Only 64 teams out of ALL Division 1 college softball teams in the nation get to be in regionals. Even more amazing, at least six of her travel ball teammates from high school days are also in regional tournaments, each at a different one around the nation. I am so excited for her and her team I want to burst! Long ago I said we'd go watch the games if they made it, but the reality is that this is her senior year, so I've flown back to Chicago for Senior Day games, and then the Banquet two weeks later. Oh, and both her dad and I spent a week there in April during my spring break from teaching for a home stand of six games. I LOVE Chicago. The reality is that we didn't count on the underdogs actually winning (for the first time in 7 years!) and we are tapped out - of money and of energy. I tried, we waited to see if the games would be in or near Chicago (or on the off chance the stars truly were aligned, in California), but no, Cal is actually traveling to Louisville along with my Flames girls and another team. Okay, maybe there would be a last minute really cheap flight....Nope, unless you consider $500-1,000 cheap. Maybe I'd have enough points on my card to buy a ticket or two....Nope, used them on the last three flights I've taken. Then maybe my friend can get us standby on a flight....Nope, flights are really full, and there's never a guarantee of getting a seat on one anyway.

I'm a big believer in what is meant to be is meant to be, and things happen for a reason, so I've decided to stop trying, to stop spending hours in front of the computer screen putting in various routes (now if I just try one way to Louisville, no, maybe Indianapolis, then back via Chicago...) on various websites, waiting for that really good deal to flash on the screen. I'll stop thinking about renting a car or bumming a ride. I'll stop thinking this is about my daughter and her disappointment at her parents not being at her big games. Besides, I have another daughter, and she's got a few milestones of her own rolling swiftly upon us that I don't want to miss. Next week is graduation from high school, in a few weeks I will go with her for her college orientation. Then there is moving her into the dorms. Wow, boulders for sure.

This is about them, their lives, not mine. I actually don't have any recollection of my parents even entering my personal space much during my high school/college years. Except the day I got married, yah, pretty sure they were there for that. When I was that age it was all about me, my friends, and my boyfriend(s). Everything was a big deal, and it meant everything to me that my best friend was there. My parents? Not so much.

I know she'll survive and thrive without me there in person on the sidelines cheering her on. I hope that by now she knows, they all know, that I am always their biggest fan, from anywhere in the world. Not sure that I will survive, however, without some bumps and bruises. Maybe just one last look at Priceline....

Compartments and Super Mom

I can't believe it's been over two months since I've blogged!! I read over my past entries and the memory of how much I enjoy it came flooding back. It's about time for an update, as this spring brings many milestones for our family.

I am a procrastinator and easily, very easily, distracted ("Squirrel!!" - if you haven't seen Up, rent it now). I tend to start a project then jump to another, then back to the first, and while looking for a piece of paper for that one, I am waylayed by a pile of photos or of bills I forgot to pay yesterday... etc. etc. This has got to be hard to live with. My stressed husband watches and frets that things won't get done. And sometimes, occasionally, he is right. I pay a late fee, or run out of milk. Nothing world-ending, but I get that a person who likes things nice and neat, well planned in advance, could be stressed by me and my last minute tactics. Now, I've been this way since he met me, and yet he still chose to marry me. I hope that my children, none of whom has a significant other at this point in their lives, realizes that relationships are full of compromise, and it flows both ways. I may think I'm easy going and fun to live with, but if I take a good, hard look at myself, I realize I may have a few traits that would be annoying... my husband certainly has one or two. Yet the good has outweighed the bad for almost 28 years. Wow, that's the lifetime of a young adult! Oh, yah, I have children who are young adults, down to the youngest who turned 18 this year!

Back to the title of this post ("Squirrel!") - the Supermom in me wants to be great at my job (which I love) and great at meeting my kids' needs, plus fabulous at being a life partner/wife, oh, and also a helpful and loving daughter to my elderly parents. The balancing and compartmentalizing of these roles is where I have trouble. If I put a lot of effort into my job as Teacher, my other compartments are neglected. I try to prioritize, but it seems someone or something is always neglected. My house is last on my list, people taking priority over a clean and neat home (and sometimes bills), and I have no guilt over that choice. It's always been that way for me. However, I tend to have such focus when I am wearing the hat of Teacher that I forget everything else in my life; it takes all my energy, mental and physical, to do a really good job of meeting the needs of my students and fulfilling my other duties for the school and the district. When I enter the compartment of Mom, inevitably my duties as Teacher and Daughter, and even Wife, suffer from neglect. I focus on and am sensitive to the emotions and needs of my kids. I feel guilty leaving my students with a sub to take time off to go on college tours with my daughter, but more guilty if I put work before family. I know I have made the right choice, but still... And while I'm out of town attending my college daughter's Senior Game (last home softball game ever), my dad takes a fall and someone else has to handle it. I'm not there for him when he needs me. (cue the guilt music; hmmm, what tune would guilt music be? Not ominous, like the Jaws theme. Maybe bluesy, not too sad, just soulful. Or soul, ya, soul music... "Squirrel!")

What has made our breed feel so beholden to perfection in all areas of our lives? Well, the females in our breed, anyway. Isn't good enough just that - good enough? I try to say "It is what it is" or think that my good effort beats many people's 'best' any day. Still, I carry the constant burden of  feeling I could do more - more for my parents, more for my students, more for my family.

Super Mom I may never be, but looking at my children I am proud and happy. They are turning into wonderful, self-sufficient adults. They are choosing to spend time with each other - something I always hoped for as they fought like cats and dogs when they were young, and are as different in personalities as three siblings can be. Now if they'd just find partners who help them continue to grow, bring out the best in them, and adore and respect me...

Fear

Every time I start to blog, do you know the first thing I do? I look at my past blogs to make sure that the thoughts running around in my head that are about to spill upon this virtual page have not already been shared in a previous blog. I really shouldn't stress about it - it's not like my 'followers' check to see if I've written about something in particular before. My fear is that you may have been touched, or you may have a better memory than I (a very likely scenario), and remember some other instance of my lamenting about my kids or my parents or the state of being a mom and working... Today I decided to write about that fear. To prod it and poke it and explore it. I believe at the root of the fear of repeating myself is the fear that I will develop, am developing, am beginning to suffer from the early stages of, will probably get, Alzheimer's. I don't mean the funny, haha we are old kind. I mean the real thing. Odds are it will happen to me, either Alzheimer's or dementia, or some odd combination of both that seem to afflict my father. Odds are that it's hereditary, that my brain will harden as I age like my father's has. That the connections, weak to begin with (not joking - I have an awful memory -  my childhood is like a dream I had, and if I remember your name or how we know each other when we meet again it will be amazing) are crumbling. I can almost feel it happening.

I find my brain searching for the connections, the path back to a particular memory, fact, word or task that I know I know. Sometimes it comes back to me and other times it doesn't. I know that our prime is truly our early 20's and it's all downhill, so to say, from there. But this is different. It's like whole pieces of my life are gone sometimes. I'm blessed to have a husband with a very good memory but cursed with lack of language to guide me back to shared memories smoothly. I'm lucky to live in a time when digital memories abound, and I am able to keep up with many people from all phases of my life, keeping memories alive through them.

My doctor says my fears are baseless; that the disease isn't necessarily inherited. She says that women have so very much on and in their minds that the files get full, their cups run over, and memories are lost due to the sheer volume of what we try to do and remember. I know that I have seven people to help, three to four households who count on me for bill paying and doctor visits, and social coordination. Two of the people in my circle of family are becoming more independent every second, but they are still on my mind, I still worry, advise, keep track of, and assist. I love being needed, but perhaps my doctor is right. My job (the one they pay me to do) entails being concerned about 26 small human beings and their emotional and educational needs (and includes their 52 or so parents in this circle of concern). Add them to my own family, and you know, the more I think about it the more I believe my doctor is a wise woman.

Recently I have been trying (I have some control issues, I admit) to do what some might call "Let go and let God". For me I am opening myself up to the possibilities of things not that I can see, but those that I feel and believe. I am letting go of worry and concern and planning and anticipation. I have read a wonderful book recently that has opened a new world for me, one that includes guardian angels and the growth of my soul in the big picture of my life and the lives of those around me. It came into my life through a good friend, actually two who recommended it to me the same week, but it has been around for a long time - Many Lives, Many Masters by Brian L. Weiss. Pick it up and make it all the way through. It's not what it appears to be, or at least it was different than I thought it would be.

Thank you; I feel better. I know that it helps to talk out a worry, a fear, a story, an experience. To "hear" it aloud, to feel it in your mouth and your brain, to see it on the page and to take another look at it helps to digest that fear, perhaps even to let it go. At least for now.

Trash Can Philosophy

As I carried the white draw-string kitchen trash bag out to recycling, it was bursting with green bottles, blue aluminum cans, and red cups. This got me thinking about the holiday season that had just ended with a New Year's Eve party hosted at our house by my son and a few of my daughters' friends. The colors of the season were well represented in my recycling bin.

Trash Day the week after holidays past have been filled with the cardboard boxes that contained Little Tykes furniture, train sets, various wheeled vehicles, and complex Lego structures. Before that it was boxes from porta-cribs and baby swings. Times have certainly changed. No more Candyland or Monopoly. The games the kids play now involve money and more often than not some sort of alcoholic beverage. No more assembling bicycles into the early hours of Christmas morning, being woken up precious few hours later by little bodies slamming onto the bed just as the sky is turning a paler shade of gray. This is the first Christmas morning that we actually had to wake our kids up. We were sitting at the kitchen table until after 10:00 a.m., so we called upstairs, texted, phoned, and finally got a groggy response from one or another, then a shocked "I can't believe we slept so late!" from my oldest daughter. We barely had time to open gifts before I had to put the turkey in the oven and start chopping and browning and mixing for Christmas dinner.

A week later my trash cans were overflowing with the afore-mentioned bottles large and small, tall and wide, of every color they come in. We all know that a person's trash can reveal many secrets (thank you CSI), but for us it tells the story of time marching on.