Wednesday, September 23, 2009
7:15 get up, dressed, eat, check email/business
8:45-9:15 make smoothies and try to get the day going
12-1 lunch break
2-4:25 This is my time for a shower, nap, business, dinner plan, errands
4:25-8:45 my new part time job ("only" 2 nights a week)
8:45-10ish finish picking up the house, laundry, business, pack orders, spend time with kids and/or husband, any leisure, etc.
10ish try to go to bed, but more likely all of the above takes til much later than 10.
Rinse. Repeat. Daily.
This is my life these days. I am struggling. Within this schedule I am finding it difficult to add in:
-driving to/from my oldest son's classes that are 45 minutes away (thankfully, I usually only have to do this once a week)
-having any personal crisis, illness, or need
-anyone else that I care about having any personal crisis, illness, or need
Last week included the death of a friend from church, calling hours, 20 extra hours of working at the not-quite-so-part-time part time job, a stressful situation with a family member, a personal problem that was stressful, some health issues for me, fatigue, PMS in all it's glory, trying to get a handle on the house mess/laundry/grocery shopping/meal plan/discipline/etc. etc. etc. Oh..and did I mention that my 17 year old is now homeschooled, which means that I'm needing to keep up with the reading for Sonlight 300? And try to discuss all of the reading with my son? Who is almost always on the go with his friends? Oh boy.
Today has been spent trying to catch up. It seems like every time I cross one thing off my list, 3 more items take it's place.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Dreams can be amazing. Stir up all your conscious issues along with the subconscious and the peripheral things in your life, let your brain get quiet enough to puzzle-piece it all together, and you get a movie. Sometimes it's just weird. Other times it's powerful enough to shake you to your core.
A week or two ago I had a dream. All of my immediate and extended family was celebrating some holiday at my Gram's house. It was as it is today, remodeled and with the belongings and style of my uncle and his girlfriend that now own it. We were all milling around, and then I caught a glimpse of Gram, standing in the front entryway.
My breath caught. I moved slowly for a closer look, thinking she was a ghost that could just disappear if I moved too fast. My grandfather was there, standing behind her, hands on her shoulders. They had a great view of what was happening both in the dining room and the living room, and they looked radiantly happy. They took my breath away.
I heard my uncle come up behind me. He quietly said, "Wow. They look so real." I had the quick thought that if he and I were both seeing the same thing, then it had to be real! And they heard it and looked at us. I ran to her and threw my arms around her and was overcome with hysterical crying. She was real! They were there! They were so happy to be together again, and to see how their family had grown. They were drinking it all in. All was well. Family members came running from all corners of the house, reaching and hugging and crying. It was powerful, all of us unified in our surprise and joy at them being with us.
The realness of that dream shook me from my sleep. I had not even been aware that such raw emotion was still hanging out under the surface of my heart. The desperation I felt for the opportunity to hug and kiss my Gram again was huge. The relief at being able to see her again was palpable. Seeing my grandfather so clearly was powerful. He died when I was 7, so it's been a long, long time since I've seen how tall he was or how broad his shoulders were. But there he was, and it seemed like there could be no doubt that I was seeing it all exactly as it was.
Every time I think about that dream it shakes me up again. For now I prefer to let myself believe that somehow it was true, that Gram and Papa met me in my dreams, gave me another chance to show my love and feel their warmth again.
Friday, September 04, 2009
One of the things I love most about young children is their secure faith in how much they are adored.
The other night I was snuggling with my youngest and it went something like this:
A: I love you sooooooooooooo much!
Me: I love you too! I love you HUGE!
A: You are the best mommy in the whole wide world!
Me: You are the best six year old in the whole wide world! I am a lucky mom to have such a great kid as you.
A: Yep! I'm the best kid God ever made!
I laughed and laughed. What a delight.
Yesterday while doing school with the kids something came up that caused my daughter to jokingly say, "That's because I'm mom's favorite!"
My youngest turned toward me urgently, saying, "WHAT?! I thought *I* was your favorite!!"
He was completely serious.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
5 years ago today I started blogging. Which seems fairly significant, actually.
5 years ago my kids were ages 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, and 12. That sure is different landscape from today when they are 6, 8, 9, 11, 13, and 17. Lightyears away, it seems.
Blasts from the past:
5 years ago I
explained how I came up with the name for this blog
vented about AOL (never have heard anything better about them in all these years, either)
shared a manifesto I wrote (and still think about often)
told about the 4th day of school
4 years ago:
I was wondering what the proper and appropriate response is for the victims of Hurricane Katrina
1 year ago
I was dealing with an avalanche of business catastrophes that I eventually bounced back from, plus we had a new family member: our rescue dog Marlee (We love her! Such a sweet soul!)
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
The other day we took a short drive through the cemetery, on the way to pick up my oldest. My 8 year old immediately started thinking of Gram.
"I wish Gram was dead HERE so we could go and see her."
I explained that although Gram is not buried near us, we would not be able to see her even if she was. I reminded him that Gram is in heaven now, with Jesus and God and her husband. We talked about how great it is that we have so many good memories of her, but he seemed unmoved from the pain of not being able to see her.
At home I immediately got the children gathered at the dinner table, but my 8 year old was a no-show. Thinking he was in the bathroom, I just called to him to say it was dinner time, and didn't worry about it. He'll be along soon.
Nope. He was on his bed, sobbing into his pillow.
When I found him there I gave him a hug and asked what was making him sad.
"It's all too much! Gram is dead and I will never get to see her again. And Ono and Oyeah* live far away and I have not gotten to see them for a long time either. Gram is dead and it is all too much!"
It was hard to see his pain. I was stricken to hear him describe it the way he did. One of my less verbal children, always fascinating me with the deep things he shares.
*Ono and Oyeah are what my kids call my mom and her husband.