Beginnng in the Middle

Quitting cold turkey

While breastfeeding one of my children, I was put on a total elimination diet to see if the baby was allergic to something I was eating.  While the diet was insanely restrictive, and ultimately didn't help the baby's issues (they worked out on their own and the child is now happy and healthy), I did physically feel great.

 

Fast forward a few years and I've learned a lot more about food and cooking.  I've also noticed more physical ailments, aches, and pains which I'm starting to think may be "food sensitivities."  I know, I know, there's plenty of controversy about the validity of "food sensitivities," but I know from my own experience that when I cut out the top 8 allergenic foods that I felt wonderful. 

I've been reading and studying for two weeks and decided on a plan.  I started today.  No sugar, no wheat, no soy, no dairy,  no corn, no gluten, no coffee.  I switched to green tea and I may have decaf coffee tomorrow since I have to go to work.  The only "sugar" I've had today was the maple in the maple almond butter and fruit I've had. I've had lots of water and ibuprofen to help with the aches and pains.

I feel foggy, cranky, and  sleepy. 

But I made it through day one.

Below is my food diary for the day, which I'm adding because I'm always interested in them!

Breakfast: brown rice cereal with almond milk, blueberries, and sliced almonds

lunch: rice crackers and guacamole

snack: pear

snack: 2 brown rice cakes with maple almond butter

dinner: leftover brown rice cereal with a sweet potato and some olive oil, cucumber salad (I made green beans too but dropped the bowl which shattered all over the floor!)

Explaining heaven to babies

My 3 year old daughter has been asking me about my mom.  "Your mommy is dead, right?" 

 

I've explained it several different ways, some of which I thought were inspired, "Yes, my mommy died when you were both very young.  I was sad for a long time, but I'm happy with my life even though I still miss her.  I remember her in my heart and I can visit her in my dreams." 

 

Some of my explanations led to confusion and hilarious exchanges.  "My mommy is an angel and she's in heaven.  She is on the moon and watches over us to keep us safe."  A few years later Max asks if we can visit my mom on the moon.

"No, Max, we can't visit the moon, it's too far away."

"Mom, we can take a spaceship to the moon!"

Hannah looks at Max with an exasperated look and replies, "Max, we don't have spacesuits!"

This morning Hannah asked again about my mom and what happened when she died.  This time I explained that her heart stopped beating and her soul went to heaven.  Max asked what heaven was.  I said heaven was a place we can feel in our hearts and visit in our dreams.  Hannah said she cries because she misses my mom and wants to visit her in heaven.  I told Hannah she could make a wish and I'm sure she could see my mom in her dreams, but that it was very important that she stayed here where (Daddy, Mommy, Max, Hannah, and Sammy) could all be together for a very long time.

"But does every body die?" Hannah asked.

(FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK I scream in my head)

"Yes, but Daddy and I take good care of ourselves, we're healthy, we make good and safe decisions, and we plan on being with you and brother and your sister for a very long time.  Hannah, it sounds like you miss my mommy.  Would you like me to put a picture of the two of you in your room? I have a picture of her holding you the day you were born."

"Yes! Mommy, I'd like that!"

 Max asked, "Can I have one too?"

 "Yes, Max, I have lots of pictures of you and my mom."

 "yay!"

 And then I dropped them off at camp.

 As I drove away I realized that to a 3 yr old the idea that mommies could die was probably the scariest thing imaginable, and I hope my answers made her feel safer.  But I also hope they heard me say that no matter how much I miss my mother, I carry her love for me in my heart and I always have my memories of her and I can feel her love for me and be happy even though I can't hold her hand or hear her voice.

 God forbid something happens to me, I hope this is the lesson they get from my explanations of heaven and death.

Because as cute as taking a spaceship to the moon to visit heaven is, I don't think that's what they were really asking.

Half-way there

More than half the year is gone and I am pleased with where I stand today.  In less than five months I will have completed my Masters degree, I have found something resembling balance in a life so chaotic I often feel utterly overwhelmed in incompetent, I have a happy-ish marriage in a world where no one seems to be able to negotiate a successful and happy marriage.  But, maybe my generation has changed that.

Our parents went into marriages with one idea and by the 80s expectations had changed.  My husband and I had a rough idea of what we both wanted from our marriage when we agreed to spend our lives together and while details have changed, we're both still in agreement on the big picture.  We both still want the same general things.  My biggest problem is laundry and how often he thinks the kids should brush their teeth...which I think means I've got it pretty damn good.

The past year has meant I've spent a ton of time at school, studying, writing, reading, preparing to write (re: wasting time on FB waiting for inspiration to strike), and driving to and from school.  He's been the full-time parent.  Giving this position over wasn't easy but I've come to see how much I can trust him.  Even if I don't help him out at night by getting things ready for the morning everything will turn out fine.  He is a great dad and an equal partner.

I called him my "partner" the other day in an effort to explore changing titles and he took offense at not being called "my husband".  I was coming from a "Diversity and Social Justice through Dialogue" course and so semantics and terms were running through my head, but the term "husband" meant a great deal to him.  I was simply thinking about the friends and family members and acquaintances who have husbands and how I felt my man was a more equal partner than the word "husband" generally implied.  I almost never feel like it's all my responsibility.  On a really bad day I know that if he can, when he comes home, he'll take all three of them off my hands for 15 minutes or all night, so I can take a break.  Or collapse in an exhausted heap.

I know many moms don't have that.   I do.  And I am grateful.  I am grateful my husband is my equal partner and that for the first time in my life I know what it feels like to have someone there for me, first and foremost.  Someone who doesn't only believe in me but accepts me completely and while he may not always like me (who likes a screaming banshee?) he loves me unconditionally and supports me.

In 5 months I will have achieved a dream I set out to reach 13 years ago...and I could not have done it without him.  My partner, my husband.

We're half-way there babe.  thank you.

Brand new year, same old me

Despite feeling like this year is the beginning of a new chapter in my life, I'm still the same old me.  My dreams are big and grand and I struggle with accepting my personal limits; I'm constantly concerned that I'm just being lazy or weak.  Friends and family tell me I'm already doing so much and I am too hard on myself, there is only so much time in the day.  The truth, I'm certain, is somewhere in between.

I created a pretty long list of goals for this year; 51 things I would like to do or try.  Now, this list is not a resolution list and #51 is "accept myself exactly as I am" which is a built-in failsafe for exonerating myself if I do not achieve a single goal on the list.  Still, most of them are things I do now and want to do more often: read to my kids, cook more, one-on-one dates with my children and hubby.  Others are things I am fairly certain I will be doing: graduating with my masters degree, attending two conferences, and eating healthier.

A few items on the list will require better planning on my part but they overlap with each other and achieving one goal would go a long way towards completing a few others. 

But, I am still me.  No where near the person I was 10 years ago (though, I do have some amazing stories from that time-no, I'm not going to tell them) but the new year did not erase my anxiety, apathy, or perfectionism.  It also did not give me more hours in the day, a housekeeper, nanny, or dramatically improve all my character flaws.  Nor did the new year bring with it a financial windfall that would ease up so much financial stress for my family.

Despite all that did not change at midnight on January 1st, I still feel inspired and excited.  A major difference between this year and all the other new years' is I understand the process of change, for myself and in principal.  I can set a long-term goal and break it down into smaller steps and, bonus!, this creates sustainable change.  It's not about a quick-fix or one time event, it is cultivating the life I want.

So far I have created a marriage that is honest, forgiving, and patient. I have learned to model good behavior for my children.  I can work hard and achieve my goals academically and I no longer choose to stay home and then wonder why I do not have better friendships.  And, I taught myself how to cook and I can create delicious and healthy meals and snacks for myself and my family.

There is so much in my life that is not what I want, so much I fail to do, so much that I am not proud of but I am and should be proud of what I have created, what is, and of what I have. 

I am still the same old me but this is brand new year and I choose to this year with passion and joy.

A few of my goals and the steps I will take to reach them:

1.  cook on weekends so we have healthy, homecooked weekday meals: make up menus and grocery lists, choose simple meals that can easily be tripled, stock up on Gladware

2.  pursue a hobby that is just about me:  call to get piano fixed, schedule a few intro lessons to review.  Spend 5 minutes a day meditating.  Read one book, for fun a month (if possible).

3.  Learn two new lullabies: print out words to Dreamland and the Dixie Chicks "Lullabye"

4.  Send out thank you and birthday cards:  review address book and birthday lists, prepare thank you cards, buy stamps, prepare birthday cards in advance and have them ready to mail out!

5.  Graduate with my Masters:  keep doing what I am doing.

Success is...

...finishing my twelve paper paper on food assistance programs and policies.

...keeping my catty, snarky opinion to myself-but texting it to my sisters.

...closing class with a witty comment that gets a laugh from everyone.

...at the end of the day, I did more good than bad.

...having the self-awareness to take care of myself.  Martyrs in real life are just annoying.

...remembering to get coffee and not spilling it on myself.

...perfectly set fudge.

...getting through a day home with my kids without yelling (more than once or twice).

...being prepared for class (hahahahahaha....)

...getting done what needs to be done and not losing my mind over everything that isn't getting done.

...appropriately prioritizing tasks. (as in, if someone's out of underwear, it's time to wash some laundry)

...being told, "Mama, I love you all the day. You're the best mama in the world."

...picking a partner who puts up with my BS, loves the best of me, and believes in me more than I believe in myself.

...achieving a goal, no matter how small.

...breaking large goals into managable steps (and see above).

...knowing who I am.

...loving this life I have.

...understanding how I got to this point and being at peace with all the mistakes along the way.

...waking up and realizing I am exactly where I always hoped to be, but never believed I would be.

Perfecting the art of Procrastination

In the next month I have a 12 page paper, a 15 page paper, a 20 page paper, three exams to complete.  Oh, a fairly large group project to finish.  I also lost my mind and took on the role of president in a student organization and am now supposed to be the fearless leader with all the vision.

Not to mention the three children who constantly ask me not to go to school and who beg me to come home when I walk to them at bedtime.  Or the pile of laundry that does not EVER get smaller.  Or the kitchen floors that while swept or still gross. Or all the rest of this  stuff that makes up the daily activities of my life.

So, what am I doing, given all the work I have to do?  Writing a blog post and planning on doing anything but what I listed above.

But, in a few minutes I'm going to get my kids ready for granpa and grandma's house, drop them off, and go write that 12 page paper.  It's due Tuesday, so unless I want to pull an all-nighter (did that last week and will not be doing it again) I've now reached the drop dead point for starting it.

I cannot begin to say how much I am looking forward to this semester being over with and I can spend two whole weeks just being a mom.

Keep your eyes out for the post where I look back at this statement and laugh hysterically at my optimism and naivete.

No one to mother me

After a long weekend of healing, I miss my mom more than ever.  I'm a full-on grown-up woman with children, husband, career, and home to take care of, but I miss being someone else's baby.  My husband is a good husband, my sisters are good sisters, and my closest aunt has been wonderful.  But no one can take the space that was emptied when my mother died.

The love, satisfaction and fulfillment I get from being a good/great mother is incomparable to any other aspect in my life.  The highlight of my day, most days, is curling up with my kid around me laughing at a cartoon, reading a book together, or talking. 

But I miss being loved like that; I miss being the child, someone's baby.  I miss my mom coming in with water, juice, a snack, medicine and to check on me every hour or two when I'm sick.  I miss calling her and hearing her voice.  It's no surprise to me that simply hearing your mom's voice can raise your oxytocin level just as much as an actual hug from her (http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/05/12/stress.mother.voice.call/index.html).  But what does that mean now that I won't ever hear her voice again?

Memories of my childhood are the foundation of how I raise my children.  Memories of reading, cooking, baking, libraries, swimming, cuddling, late night cookies and warm milk, crawling into bed with my mom, and doing crafts with her all spur me to make the effort with my children.  Everything that I loved my, I try hardest to give to my children, and I watch them and try to see what it is that they enjoy most and try harder to give them that.

"Mama, come dance with me," is a common statement around my house.  More often than not, I try to immediately stop what I'm doing and get up to dance with them.  They love it and I love that.

But no amount of loving being their mother makes the loss of being my mom's child any less.  The pain is less acute, less sharp, but when I come across it, it is still deep, still raw, and it still aches.

Lately it only rears up around holidays, special events, and when I'm sick.  This weekend I was fairly sick and in a great deal of pain from a burst Baker's cyst in my leg (too much 30 day shred I assume).  I wanted to be babied and nursed back to health.  And my mom was a nurse so she was always extra good at taking care of me when I was sick.

The only lesson I can take from this weekend is that I need to talk to my husband and let him know, in advance, what he can do better for me when I'm sick, and to make sure that I take care of myself better when I'm sick.  I'm the mommy now and I can do it, for myself.  It's not the same, to be sure, but I had a great teacher to show me what to do.

Motherhood is wet and sticky...

After getting Thing 1 and Thing 2 ready for bed last night, I went to tuck 2 into bed but when I opened her bedroom door I was hit with the unmistakeable scent of sick (vomit, throw-up...there's no nice way to put it).  I hurried over to my baby's crib to find her laying down in a huge mess.

Why don't toddlers scream when they throw-up?  Each of my kids has now been found just laying in a pile and I can't help but think there's some vital mothering flaw that I have which explains this!!

Regardless, I sat her up, slightly frantic because, well-it's GROSS and I was home alone.  Fortunately, I'm experienced in this sick-kid-clean-up and ran to get towels, wipes, and found a safe place to put the sick baby (I placed her in a 50 gallon plastic storage container.  don't judge)

Cleaned up her mess, yelled at my other two to go watch tv because I was afraid they'd

a) try to help

b) get sick themselves

My poor baby just sat there rather listless while I cleaned it all up.  She screamed bloody murder while I was giving her a bath and started shivering pretty badly.  All of this is out of character for her.

After remaking her crib, emptying it of her stuffed animals and lining the whole crib and floor with towels, I put my older two to bed and sat on the couch cuddling her and singing her lullabies.

I was soaking wet from her bath, sweaty from my earlier workout, and smelled slightly of vomit and soap. 

Somehow, though, cuddling her and watching her eyes fight sleep while I sang to her (only my kids appreciate my singing voice and I love that they do) almost made up for the mess I had just cleaned up.

Hopefully, in 20 years I'll just remember the cuddling...and not the disgusting clean-up involved.

Anniversary

Six years ago I was getting ready for the rehearsal of my wedding.  I was cooking my famous burrito-enchiladas for the dinner, burning my hand on the stove because I was distracted, getting a manicure and pedicure, and reminding myself to keep breathing.

I have always been a sentimental, nostalgic, and overall schmoopy personality.  Anniversaries are the worst for me. 

But this is one of the good anniversaries.  Just as good as my children's birthdays and better than all the other holidays I revel in when they come around.

This one is when he and I became we, when our family started, when we choose each other-forever. 

More has happened to us, between us, and because of choices we've each made than I ever could have imagined.  Goes to show how little imagination I have.  Because despite marriage being harder than anyone ever could have explained to me, I feel we're both stronger and "we" are stroger than I ever could have imagined, either.  Again-lack of imagination.

So one this anniversary eve, I love you K.  I love you more than I can say (no, I didn't mean to make that rhyme).  Thank you for choosing me, thank you for saying yes when I proposed to you (funny, even though we were officially engaged I still felt terrified getting down on one knee andasking).  Thanks for standing there through and being there through the most painful experiences of my life, and patiently waiting while I found my way through the wreckage. 

I love you.

Little Victories

After false starting on various runnng plans I started a new one today.  This latest is from Blisstree and what I like about it is it doesn't take an hour.

I've run for an hour and because I was in physically good enough shape, I found it enjoyable.  I understand many, many people find the idea of running for an hour excruciating, but I remember it fondly.  My problem with the training programs is there's so much walking.  I hate walking for an hour.  I'm weird.

The Blisstree training program begins with running for 5 minutes straight and building from there.  When I found the plan I knew I could run for 5 minutes straight.  I knew it would be an effort but, well, exercise, fitness, and  running is an effort.  And I tend towards lazy. 

So I went out and ran for 5 minutes straight then I turned around and walked home.  On Monday I'll run for 5 minutes straight again and the 3rd day of the week I up it to 10 minutes.  It builds over 6 weeks (18 workouts total, with at least one day of rest inbetween training days) upto a 5K/30minutes of running.

It's ambitous but I've been doing the 30 Day Shred every day and I feel fantastic.  I'm not pushing too hard but I'm not babying myself either.  I've been working out and training on and off for 10 years now and I have a pretty good idea of when I'm pushing too hard and am likely to injure myself.  What I've struggled with is pushing just hard enough and really committing to training.  It's been a challenge to get back to seeing myself as an athlete or at least a pseudo athlete.

I've been a vessel for creating life or sustainig life for five year.  And often I felt like my body was barely good enough for that (one miscarriage, months on bedrest, three early deliveries, and two NICU babies).  But my body has been able to feed my children, comfort, play with them, chase them, and keep up with them. 

One thing I've learned over the past 5 years is that there are many tings I cannot control.  But I can get up every day, get out of bed and try my best.  Some days my best is pretty bad, but it's my bes that day.

Today my best was running for 5 minutes straight.  It may not seem like a victory to most people, but when I looked at my watch and saw that it read 5 minutes 1 second, I felt like Rocky on the top the steps in Philly.

ADRIANNE!!!!!!!!