I decided last night I'm officially calling myself worn out, exhausted. I have a bad habit of constantly down playing my own trials and tribulations because I look around me and see so many friends and loved ones who are going through much harder trials. I have compassion and that is good. But I need to have compassion and love for myself as well. I realize that while my trials are not "big" trials right now (have been there though and know I will be there again at some point), even "little" trials are hard and exhausting.
Brian's constantly working has left me tired. Having a new baby and also the new role of being a homeschooling mom has left my previous rituals and rhythms totally off and ineffective. My house is a mess and my laundry is constantly piled up. I hate having to dig int he dryer in the morning for clean underwear and the panic at night of "does my husband have clean clothes to were to work in the morning? I hate having a messy kitchen with the breakfast plates still on the counter, or worse, on the kitchen table. I hate it all.
Tristan has been really fussy at night again since Thursday (6 days now) and will cry and cry before finally falling asleep or will wake up crying for an hour or so in the middle of the night. He seems to be on a type of nursing strike- he will nurse but not as much as normal. So I've been overly full and developed a really horrible plugged duct on Sunday. My breasts are feeling better but both are still tender and I won't be surprised in the least if I develop mastitis at some point in April.
My kids are not getting to bed on time at all. I'm not getting to bed on time at all. And we aren't getting up and about in the morning on time. My life runs so much smoother when I can get up, shower, dress, and do a few basic chores in the house before the children get up. Well it is not happening in one bit! Homeschooling has not been up to par to what it needs to be. I'm having a hard time planning and making dinner and I"m very tired of eating out and living such an unhealthy life style. I want to dust off my running shoes and start running again and I have been unable to get there yet.
On Friday and Saturday our family got away. We went to D.C. and a place called Great Falls. I got to see one of my best friends in the whole world. It was a nice trip. Yesterday the kids and I went to Lancaster to a childrens' museum and I got to see my other best friend in the whole world. So I'm very happy to have those "time outs" (and will blog about them soon.)
But when your home base is chaotic and not stabilizing or restorative to your spirit, no amount of fun and relaxation can fix the problems. I come home and my kids are still awake at 10pm, my house and laundry are still a mess, the dryer is still on the fritz, and dinner is still an unknown question mark. It doesn't work.
I'm going to look at my calendar for the month of April with a critical eye and see what I can cancel or postpone and try my best to just be home. And... I called my friend and massage therapist up and have a massaged scheduled for this Friday at 1!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
My midwife is on to something here...
Today I had the joy of going to a "Pap-Luck." That is right, a pot luck and pap smear all in one! What a fun way to do wellness checks! I always enjoy these community get-togethers. There were only a few of us this time so it was very intimate. I got to talk to my two midwives and meet the new student midwife straight off the plane from Maine. There were plenty of loving arms to hold my baby when it was my turn to get examined, very yummy food, and fun talk! And I always feel more motivated to take better care of my health after being around this crowd, especially when it comes to healthy eating. The food was so yummy. Food always tastes more yummy with good company.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
My Name is Garrett
My name is GARRETT. My favorite toy in the whole wide world is my Spiderman cape. My little bit favorite toy is my dump truck. My other really, really favorite toy is my Robin mask. But I pretend I’m Batman when I put it on.
My favorite color is purple. My birthday is June 1st. I want a Batman cake for my next birthday when I turn 6 years old. My favorite Xbox game is Lego Batman. I like to eat candy. I like to play outside with my neighborhood friends, Gavin, Logan, Thomas, and Jackson. I like to run around in the grass island and play Star Wars. I also like to swing on my tree swing
(we prepared this for our co-op this week. We made a friendship book.) And for your viewing pleasure... here is a video showing Garrett's great sense of humor. He has always had a good sense of humor but people don't see it very often because he is often shy around others. Humm...well I can't upload a video right now because I don't have that feature on my blogger and don't want to bother with creating a youtube account right now. So I'll post the video later)
Friday, March 12, 2010
As I Stare at my Beautiful Child
I lay down next to my baby to nurse him asleep. It has been a busy day full of friends, a short road trip to drop off our taxes, and of missed naps. Tristan is tired. He is about a week shy of being 5 months old and just today I discovered his first tooth cut through the gum.
I lay down in the dimly lit bedroom on our king-size bed to nurse my tired boy to sleep. I casually flip through a magazine but decide the light is too dim to bother with reading. Instead I stare at my son. He is hungry and tired and nurses with gusto. His soft plump hands grasp mine, twisting and wringing. I love how he does this, especially when he is tired. Occasionally he rubs his tired eyes. My thoughts turn towards my love for this child. I love him so much. I wish I could get a picture of him from the exact perspective I see him, as if a camera was attached to my eyes. I wonder if I'll remember these moments when he is 2, 5, 10, 15, or 30 years old. Will I ever be able to draw forth this image in my mind's eye of him as he is now, this sweet, plump, 4 month old baby? Or will these days just feel like a dream that has taken on that vague, cloudy sense most of my dreams have- that feeling of the images and ideas just beyond my reach?
I think about my sadness and weekly grief that I feel at the thought that this small child might be my last. Will I honestly never go through pregnancy again? Will I never give birth again? Will I never lay in this bed again and feed another almost-5-month-old? Will I truely never get the chance to be excited and amazed at that first tooth that suddenly appears in the little mouth after days and weeks of constant drool, biting, and fussiness? I grieve deep within my heart that this baby truely might be my last one. Then I think, maybe, just maybe, the Lord will sneak another one in for me. Maybe my husband will change his mind. Maybe we will have an "surprise!" baby. After all, both myself and Brian were "accidents," unplanned from our parent's points of view (but surely not from God's view.)
I grieve a silent sadness. But then I look upon my child even more intently. I think this is a picture only I am privileged to see. Only I see this particular view of Tristan. Isn't it amazing how one person can have so many "looks"? Laying on this bed, I see a trim little Tristan. I can actually "see" myself in him which is saying something because I typically have a hard time seeing my looks in my children. I look at this child and tell myself, "soak this in. Don't be so sad about what may or may not be, that you miss the here and now. Be present right here, right this second. Enjoy this moment. It is so fleeting."
By now Tristan's enthusiastic gulping has long subsided. His wringing hands slow down and he now softly holds my hand. He starts to pull at the breast and pops on and off. He is ready for a pacifier. This is new for me. At 4 months he just now started using a pacifier. He never handled my over abundance of milk as well as Garrett did. He wants to comfort suck but can't deal with the milk that keeps coming. Garrett, my oldest, never had an issue dealing with the milk and loved to "sleep nurse" at the breast. This pacifier thing feels a bit freeing at times but mostly odd and unnatural because my mothering expectation is that I am my child's source of comfort and nourishment emotionally and physically. I have no problems being a "human pacifier." But I put the pacifier in his mouth and he "sleep nurses" on it with gusto. As he does, I think about my love for him and Garrett, how quickly these children grow up, how challenging yet rewarding mothering is, and I think "Thank you God for this little boy. Thank you for giving him to me." I think about how I should try to cherish all the moments and laugh more, have fun with my children more. I think of how cute Tristan is when he laughs and giggles. How his happiness overcomes his whole body and how easy and quickly he laughs now at the slightest thing Garrett does. I can't wait until tomorrow when I can see his laughter again and get a big, cuddly hug from him. But I also think about how happy I am that he is asleep and how shortly I will be the only one awake in the house and I can take a deep breath and relax a bit.
Tristan's suck slows down each minute. The pacifier finally drops completely out of his mouth. He shifts and gets comfortable. I start to slide out from the bed, but first I move the discarded magazine away from him with the mental picture of Tristan somehow reaching over in his sleep and pulled the magazine over his face and suffocated. I laugh at my mom-anxiety but none the less, move the magazine.
I think about motherhood. I have so many thoughts on the subject. I think about how there is no shortage of opportunity to learn and grow as an individual through "just" being a mom. I think about how amazing God's plan is to put us in families which allow us to be "refined by the fire." I think about how much I love being a mom. About how much happiness that comes with it. But also the trails, frustrations, and the feelings of constantly coming up short. I think about how I am my own worse critic, my own harshest judge, and how I want to do and be better as a mom. I decide its best to embrace all of these thoughts and feelings as motherhood. My grief, my happiness, my tender feelings, as well as myself critic, my tiredness, my impatience and frustration. Motherhood, for me, is all of these things.
About 30 minutes later I hear Tristan start to cry. I lay next to him again and offer the breast once more. He guzzles quickly in his mostly asleep trance once again and then falls back into a deep sleep. Its been a busy day and I think he didn't nurse as much as he should of today. I expect a lot of night nursing tonight. I leave the room once again thinking that tonight, since Brian is not home, I'll let Garrett sleep in the big bed and in the morning we three will cuddle extra long before starting the new day.
I lay down in the dimly lit bedroom on our king-size bed to nurse my tired boy to sleep. I casually flip through a magazine but decide the light is too dim to bother with reading. Instead I stare at my son. He is hungry and tired and nurses with gusto. His soft plump hands grasp mine, twisting and wringing. I love how he does this, especially when he is tired. Occasionally he rubs his tired eyes. My thoughts turn towards my love for this child. I love him so much. I wish I could get a picture of him from the exact perspective I see him, as if a camera was attached to my eyes. I wonder if I'll remember these moments when he is 2, 5, 10, 15, or 30 years old. Will I ever be able to draw forth this image in my mind's eye of him as he is now, this sweet, plump, 4 month old baby? Or will these days just feel like a dream that has taken on that vague, cloudy sense most of my dreams have- that feeling of the images and ideas just beyond my reach?
I think about my sadness and weekly grief that I feel at the thought that this small child might be my last. Will I honestly never go through pregnancy again? Will I never give birth again? Will I never lay in this bed again and feed another almost-5-month-old? Will I truely never get the chance to be excited and amazed at that first tooth that suddenly appears in the little mouth after days and weeks of constant drool, biting, and fussiness? I grieve deep within my heart that this baby truely might be my last one. Then I think, maybe, just maybe, the Lord will sneak another one in for me. Maybe my husband will change his mind. Maybe we will have an "surprise!" baby. After all, both myself and Brian were "accidents," unplanned from our parent's points of view (but surely not from God's view.)
I grieve a silent sadness. But then I look upon my child even more intently. I think this is a picture only I am privileged to see. Only I see this particular view of Tristan. Isn't it amazing how one person can have so many "looks"? Laying on this bed, I see a trim little Tristan. I can actually "see" myself in him which is saying something because I typically have a hard time seeing my looks in my children. I look at this child and tell myself, "soak this in. Don't be so sad about what may or may not be, that you miss the here and now. Be present right here, right this second. Enjoy this moment. It is so fleeting."
By now Tristan's enthusiastic gulping has long subsided. His wringing hands slow down and he now softly holds my hand. He starts to pull at the breast and pops on and off. He is ready for a pacifier. This is new for me. At 4 months he just now started using a pacifier. He never handled my over abundance of milk as well as Garrett did. He wants to comfort suck but can't deal with the milk that keeps coming. Garrett, my oldest, never had an issue dealing with the milk and loved to "sleep nurse" at the breast. This pacifier thing feels a bit freeing at times but mostly odd and unnatural because my mothering expectation is that I am my child's source of comfort and nourishment emotionally and physically. I have no problems being a "human pacifier." But I put the pacifier in his mouth and he "sleep nurses" on it with gusto. As he does, I think about my love for him and Garrett, how quickly these children grow up, how challenging yet rewarding mothering is, and I think "Thank you God for this little boy. Thank you for giving him to me." I think about how I should try to cherish all the moments and laugh more, have fun with my children more. I think of how cute Tristan is when he laughs and giggles. How his happiness overcomes his whole body and how easy and quickly he laughs now at the slightest thing Garrett does. I can't wait until tomorrow when I can see his laughter again and get a big, cuddly hug from him. But I also think about how happy I am that he is asleep and how shortly I will be the only one awake in the house and I can take a deep breath and relax a bit.
Tristan's suck slows down each minute. The pacifier finally drops completely out of his mouth. He shifts and gets comfortable. I start to slide out from the bed, but first I move the discarded magazine away from him with the mental picture of Tristan somehow reaching over in his sleep and pulled the magazine over his face and suffocated. I laugh at my mom-anxiety but none the less, move the magazine.
I think about motherhood. I have so many thoughts on the subject. I think about how there is no shortage of opportunity to learn and grow as an individual through "just" being a mom. I think about how amazing God's plan is to put us in families which allow us to be "refined by the fire." I think about how much I love being a mom. About how much happiness that comes with it. But also the trails, frustrations, and the feelings of constantly coming up short. I think about how I am my own worse critic, my own harshest judge, and how I want to do and be better as a mom. I decide its best to embrace all of these thoughts and feelings as motherhood. My grief, my happiness, my tender feelings, as well as myself critic, my tiredness, my impatience and frustration. Motherhood, for me, is all of these things.
About 30 minutes later I hear Tristan start to cry. I lay next to him again and offer the breast once more. He guzzles quickly in his mostly asleep trance once again and then falls back into a deep sleep. Its been a busy day and I think he didn't nurse as much as he should of today. I expect a lot of night nursing tonight. I leave the room once again thinking that tonight, since Brian is not home, I'll let Garrett sleep in the big bed and in the morning we three will cuddle extra long before starting the new day.
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