If I had any wits left, I'd be at the end of them. I'm just so doggone tired. My brain is full every day. I know that this is a temporary state of being and completely normal but it is hard to live like this for long.
I started my new job two weeks ago. I think it is going well. I am on complete information overload. I am trying to learn as much as I can about Long term care and my new responsibilities. For those who may read this and do not read any other stuff or talk to me in other capacities, let me fill you in.
In November, I learned that my nice job at the county was going to end due to budget cuts. My last day was January 8, 2010. There are frustrating things that one encounters when working for a large state operated system and union rules. Bureaucratic red-tape is the best description. Communication with me, the lowly staff person, does not seem to terribly high on the priority list. I found out on December 24 via an email that I did not actually read until the next week when I came back to work after the Christmas holiday that I had a temporary reassignment onto a unit that was going to be shut down and transferred to another facility, in another town. And because of that, I would also be included in their lay-off group and would be getting an official lay-off notice with my options. My options included a)take the lay-off b) "Bump" a less senior RN out of their position of which I could choose from one of the following 4 options...1 was a rotating day and evening position, 3 were straight nights. or c) take an open position but less than full time.
The way I had always understood things was that if you had a significant amount of seniority, the options should not be so lousy. I had 30 people under me in seniority and this was my option. Something about this really bugged me but I couldn't put my finger on it until the week I started back at the Treatment center in orientation and talked with some of the staff who were working on the unit that was being shut down. A very brand-new RN had bid off to another unit and for some reason, was considered "safe" from the lay-off or from being "bumped". Why would this RN who had worked for a few months be assured of a job when I, who had worked for the state for over 6 years, 3 1/2 of which were as an RN get stuck working nights? It didn't make sense and I was getting mad.
An opportunity sort fell into my lap. There is no other way to describe it. My friend from college works at a nursing home in Minneapolis. She is one of the directors and told me that they were looking for a couple of nurse managers and would I consider it? Initially, I said I would wait a while and see how things played out with the state but then when I started learning about all this other junk going on, and she posted a little plug on Facebook about the job (not just to me but to others who might know good nurses) I wrote to her and said, "Consider me interested." As she and I wrote back and forth, the administrator chimes in on the discussion and says, "Tulip, you call me tomorrow."
In actuality, my first week of training at the treatment center, I knew I had this job interview so I tried to be positive and keep an open mind, knowing that I was exploring other options and was not stuck. The interview went well and I was essentially offered the job if all went well in a meeting with the Assistant Director of Nursing the next week. The following week was a holiday, so my kids and I were going to the Mall of America for the day and the Administrator asked me to call during the day and schedule an appointment with the ADON. Instead, I came in on my way home from the MOA, with my 4 bedraggled, sweaty children and had an interview with the ADON and met again with the Administrator. I walked out with the job.
And I learned that I would be another Assistant Director of Nursing, sharing duties (to be determined later) with the other ADON. That began my whirlwind of excitement, exhaustion and losing all my wits. But the more I dig in, the more I like what I am doing and the more I feel like this is what I am supposed to be doing. I'm far from relaxed but I can see where I am headed.
The stress is taking its toll however. I feel like I am running and never catch up. However, the beauty in that is that I am realizing my children are far more capable then I have given them credit and it is not wrong of me to expect them to pick up some of the slack. However, it is wrong of me to expect them to do things to the same skill that I would or with the same efficiency and dedication. We are all growing in that area.
The use of the computer is helping all of us in that area. I can type out my To Do lists and even write out what I want them to do exactly. They can have time to use the computer if they do what they have been asked to do. And there are things that we have to keep up with every day or it piles up and gets overwhelming. This pertains mostly to the kitchen because our kitchen is small and the dishwasher does not work.
BB is reacting to these changes in a way that is frustrating. He has been so angry and irritable. I sat down with him and described what I was seeing as him putting out spikes like a cactus or a porcupine. And when someone is acting prickly it is because there is something they want to protect from being hurt. We talked about the changes in our family over the last few months and how it is understandable that he would want to protect himself from being hurt by sticking out his prickly parts. But his prickly-ness is hurting his family and we are getting tired of being yelled at, answered with sarcastic, rude comments. The only thing that he actually said that was bothering him was that I now have homework from my own school and he feels like that is taking time away from him.
As I think about it, that does make sense. He wants my attention and he is doing all sorts of things to send me a message that he is unhappy. He is also doing things to interfere or disrupt with our family life. He does not like my going to school. I agreed that going to school is hard and has changed things a bit but it is getting easier. I also told him that I was going to take the summer semester off because we all need a break and need to have some time to spend together.
After that, he started to smile again and he started to relax. I think I hit the nail on the head. I did also tell him that things will not always feel this crazy. It's just a lot of things happening in a very short amount of time. It will get better.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Embracing change
So many things are changing right now. It does seem to make my head spin and I wonder how it is that I am not huddled in a corner, knees to chest, rocking and sucking my thumb.
Because I am a grown-up, that's why. And, because I have realized that the only thing I can truly count on staying the same is that everything is going to change eventually. I may not like it. It may hurt or feel uncomfortable and it usually means I am will be tossed out of my comfortable bubble. Tough. That's life.
I am reading a chapter in my course book for my Master's degree and this week's topic is on change. One of the statements that hit me, like a stake to my heart, is that "the tension between stability and chaos creates change" (Grossman & Valiga, 2009, p. 116) and "a system maintains itself only if change is occurring in it all the time." (Grossman & Valiga, 2009, p 117). I realized as I read this that it is this very process of chaotic craziness that is changing me and helping me grow! So embrace it, baby!
I thought it would be "fun" to write out the changes that are occurring in my life at the moment. If nothing else it will show me that I am living my life out on that edge of chaos and there is a purpose for it. I may not know all of the purpose for it but for me, I am a simple enough person to be content to know that sooner or later, I will know the reason.
1. Grieving the death of my Dad. This is still huge. A friend of mine mentioned that grieving takes 1000 days. I like that because it takes the pressure off of me when I think ,"Come on, get over it. Let it go." Yet at the same time, the process of letting it go takes time and cannot be rushed.
2. One job ending. It was not something I wanted to happen. I was content. But at the same time, if I am truly honest with myself, I knew that it was never going to be "the last stop" in my career. At some point, I was going to grow beyond that job. What I had to let go of was the loss of it being on my terms and by my choice.
3. A new job beginning. This is exciting. New challenges, new responsibilities. But stress, anxiety and fear. I'm just laying it out there.
4. Going back to school again. Granted, I do all my schooling from home, filling it in around the rest of my life. There is no other way I could do it! But it does add stress and a burden. At the same time, I feel like my mind is just a sponge. I had been sitting on the fence for so long about whether I should start or not and could I hack it. Now I am reading books like the one I mentioned above and seeing how my learning process is spilling over into every area of my life. I am ready for this.
5. A teenage daughter. So far, so good. I'm seeing more emotional lability and some challenges to my authority. But she is a good girl and I think we have a good relationship. So we talk about the changes going on with her. I'm working through some grief knowing that my time with her at home is getting shorter and she is going to start pulling away. It has begun already with long weekend trips with the youth group and summer camp. So, I say to myself alot, "Give her roots and wings."
6. Another adolescent on the verge. An 11 year old boy who makes me laugh, cry and scratch my head or want to ram my head into a wall in frustration. And that is just in 30 minutes. Yet, I have seen so much growth in him over the last year. His brain is developing and the logical aspects are kicking in. He is very black and white. Some of that is being ADHD. He also has to see how this applies to him and if it does not, good luck getting him on board.
7. More battles with the school regarding absences and a report to the county of educational neglect. Ugh. I know in my heart that I am not "Educationally neglecting" my children but the thought that someone out there thinks I am, because my kids got the very illness that is causing a "pandemic" across the world, just bugs me.
8. Another move. It's been almost 2 years. I'm frustrated with this townhouse. I have a place to go. It's hard to wait. But the thought of packing and unpacking again. Sigh.
9. Basketball practice once a week and games on Saturdays. And a boy who wants to play but is struggling with a coach who is a little harder and does not go by BB's rules. As soon as the clock hits 7pm, BB believes practice is over and he starts to shut down. I watch him at practice and in games and while he seems to have a good time playing, this is not something that stirs passion in him. It's painful to watch.
10. A comment from my 8 year old, while we were at the Mall of America, "We need another person in our family. A father." That is something that has been with us for 7 years and is a wound that I can't heal completely from myself. How do I explain to him that I know he wants and needs a father and at the same time, I am going to be very, very picky about who gets to be that for him? At the same time, there is a very real possibility that a father at this point in his life, is not part of God's plan. Instead, I pull him close, kiss him on the head and whisper, "I know, baby, I know."
I think that is it. It's enough, isn't it? Is it any wonder that I feel tired and a little overwhelmed? When I look at that list and then I walk through my house, I find myself lightening up a bit on my aggravation with how things are not clean for long. In many ways, we are still working on a "survival mode" while also developing some skills. It's a season. We are dancing on the edge of chaos but it is that edge that sharpens us, pulls us together as a family and builds our character.
Grossman, S. & Valiga, T. (2009). The new leadership challenge: Creating the future of nursing. Philadelphia: F. A. Davis Company.
Because I am a grown-up, that's why. And, because I have realized that the only thing I can truly count on staying the same is that everything is going to change eventually. I may not like it. It may hurt or feel uncomfortable and it usually means I am will be tossed out of my comfortable bubble. Tough. That's life.
I am reading a chapter in my course book for my Master's degree and this week's topic is on change. One of the statements that hit me, like a stake to my heart, is that "the tension between stability and chaos creates change" (Grossman & Valiga, 2009, p. 116) and "a system maintains itself only if change is occurring in it all the time." (Grossman & Valiga, 2009, p 117). I realized as I read this that it is this very process of chaotic craziness that is changing me and helping me grow! So embrace it, baby!
I thought it would be "fun" to write out the changes that are occurring in my life at the moment. If nothing else it will show me that I am living my life out on that edge of chaos and there is a purpose for it. I may not know all of the purpose for it but for me, I am a simple enough person to be content to know that sooner or later, I will know the reason.
1. Grieving the death of my Dad. This is still huge. A friend of mine mentioned that grieving takes 1000 days. I like that because it takes the pressure off of me when I think ,"Come on, get over it. Let it go." Yet at the same time, the process of letting it go takes time and cannot be rushed.
2. One job ending. It was not something I wanted to happen. I was content. But at the same time, if I am truly honest with myself, I knew that it was never going to be "the last stop" in my career. At some point, I was going to grow beyond that job. What I had to let go of was the loss of it being on my terms and by my choice.
3. A new job beginning. This is exciting. New challenges, new responsibilities. But stress, anxiety and fear. I'm just laying it out there.
4. Going back to school again. Granted, I do all my schooling from home, filling it in around the rest of my life. There is no other way I could do it! But it does add stress and a burden. At the same time, I feel like my mind is just a sponge. I had been sitting on the fence for so long about whether I should start or not and could I hack it. Now I am reading books like the one I mentioned above and seeing how my learning process is spilling over into every area of my life. I am ready for this.
5. A teenage daughter. So far, so good. I'm seeing more emotional lability and some challenges to my authority. But she is a good girl and I think we have a good relationship. So we talk about the changes going on with her. I'm working through some grief knowing that my time with her at home is getting shorter and she is going to start pulling away. It has begun already with long weekend trips with the youth group and summer camp. So, I say to myself alot, "Give her roots and wings."
6. Another adolescent on the verge. An 11 year old boy who makes me laugh, cry and scratch my head or want to ram my head into a wall in frustration. And that is just in 30 minutes. Yet, I have seen so much growth in him over the last year. His brain is developing and the logical aspects are kicking in. He is very black and white. Some of that is being ADHD. He also has to see how this applies to him and if it does not, good luck getting him on board.
7. More battles with the school regarding absences and a report to the county of educational neglect. Ugh. I know in my heart that I am not "Educationally neglecting" my children but the thought that someone out there thinks I am, because my kids got the very illness that is causing a "pandemic" across the world, just bugs me.
8. Another move. It's been almost 2 years. I'm frustrated with this townhouse. I have a place to go. It's hard to wait. But the thought of packing and unpacking again. Sigh.
9. Basketball practice once a week and games on Saturdays. And a boy who wants to play but is struggling with a coach who is a little harder and does not go by BB's rules. As soon as the clock hits 7pm, BB believes practice is over and he starts to shut down. I watch him at practice and in games and while he seems to have a good time playing, this is not something that stirs passion in him. It's painful to watch.
10. A comment from my 8 year old, while we were at the Mall of America, "We need another person in our family. A father." That is something that has been with us for 7 years and is a wound that I can't heal completely from myself. How do I explain to him that I know he wants and needs a father and at the same time, I am going to be very, very picky about who gets to be that for him? At the same time, there is a very real possibility that a father at this point in his life, is not part of God's plan. Instead, I pull him close, kiss him on the head and whisper, "I know, baby, I know."
I think that is it. It's enough, isn't it? Is it any wonder that I feel tired and a little overwhelmed? When I look at that list and then I walk through my house, I find myself lightening up a bit on my aggravation with how things are not clean for long. In many ways, we are still working on a "survival mode" while also developing some skills. It's a season. We are dancing on the edge of chaos but it is that edge that sharpens us, pulls us together as a family and builds our character.
Grossman, S. & Valiga, T. (2009). The new leadership challenge: Creating the future of nursing. Philadelphia: F. A. Davis Company.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Aha!
I don't know if this has ever happened to you. Maybe it is only me and it means I am weird. I am actually OK with that. I read a magazine article and by the end of it, I was in tears because the author could have been describing my life or she said something that resonated so personally that it seemed as if that was put in there just for me.
I get this experience a lot at church, quite frankly. How could the pastor know I am going through that? How did the worship team know that I needed to hear that particular song? They did not know it on a person level of course. It is what I believe is the Divine moving inside me. Only the Lord knows exactly what I am going through and what I need to hear, see, read or touch. He orchestrates those moments. If I am receptive, I catch them.
As a single parent, I do not get a lot of time to myself. Sometimes my only safe haven is in the bathroom. And even that can be interrupted at any given moment. However, as my children get older they are less likely to barge in and are learning to respect the closed door. (This does not extend to a door that has not been closed solidly. If there is a crack or a broken seal, then it must mean it is OK to come in. It could not possibly mean that Mom was in a hurry...or that there are two doors and one was missed?) So, I will confess, I spend perhaps a little extra time in my little porcelain retreat than the job requires.
Yesterday, I read an article or an essay about a Mom who was struggling with connecting to her teenage son. She described the turmoil of adolescence for both of them in such a way that I was moved to tears and I was left with a new found insight into how I could approach the two children I have that are entering this stage.
She said that for some children, moving into adolescence, the transition seems relatively painless. They find their niche and go with it. For others, it is more painful. She described how it is like a caterpillar who has created it's chrysalis. A mother cannot climb in there with her child. It is an event that her child must go through alone. Her son created an environment that said, "Stay out" with his angry music, long black sweatshirts and questionable bedroom decor. But when she began to see it as his cocoon, she found she could slowly find ways to move back in to his life and reach back in to his world. The caterpillar in this cocoon stage is going through profound changes, as is a teenager. Everything about them is changing; hair, body, voice, brain and so forth. It is a scary time.
Like I said before, I got to the end of the article and the tears were pouring down my face like sheets of spring rain. Aha! I have been thinking about how much I am afraid of these impending teen years because of the changes I see. I see that time with my children is slipping away. It is moving to fast. I am grieving it. I missed the perspective of my children and what it is like for them.
Smacking myself in the head. I used to be a teenager. I remember feeling isolated a lot. I remember feeling like my parents "just don't get it". I remember thinking torn between what life used to be like when I was a kid and then also all the exciting things that were happening with new freedoms. Sometimes, I just wanted to be a kid. Mostly what I wanted was to be heard.
My son, the one who just turned 11, told me on Sunday that I do not know him at all, that I do not understand him. I wanted to shout back at him, "Of course I do! I have known you since before your born. I held you closer than any other person the planet!" Things are changing inside him and he is right, in a sense, I do not know him. I know glimpses of him and what he shows me and tells me. It is now my job to connect back to him and ask him to share himself with me, to let him tell me who he thinks he is and to help him figure it out or to just be here and support him while he enters his cocoon, goes through these changes and we see what comes out at the end.
I still want to cry. I want him to stay a little boy forever. I still think about the baby who would reach out to me, smiling when I picked him up at the end of the day. It's hard to let go of that.
I get this experience a lot at church, quite frankly. How could the pastor know I am going through that? How did the worship team know that I needed to hear that particular song? They did not know it on a person level of course. It is what I believe is the Divine moving inside me. Only the Lord knows exactly what I am going through and what I need to hear, see, read or touch. He orchestrates those moments. If I am receptive, I catch them.
As a single parent, I do not get a lot of time to myself. Sometimes my only safe haven is in the bathroom. And even that can be interrupted at any given moment. However, as my children get older they are less likely to barge in and are learning to respect the closed door. (This does not extend to a door that has not been closed solidly. If there is a crack or a broken seal, then it must mean it is OK to come in. It could not possibly mean that Mom was in a hurry...or that there are two doors and one was missed?) So, I will confess, I spend perhaps a little extra time in my little porcelain retreat than the job requires.
Yesterday, I read an article or an essay about a Mom who was struggling with connecting to her teenage son. She described the turmoil of adolescence for both of them in such a way that I was moved to tears and I was left with a new found insight into how I could approach the two children I have that are entering this stage.
She said that for some children, moving into adolescence, the transition seems relatively painless. They find their niche and go with it. For others, it is more painful. She described how it is like a caterpillar who has created it's chrysalis. A mother cannot climb in there with her child. It is an event that her child must go through alone. Her son created an environment that said, "Stay out" with his angry music, long black sweatshirts and questionable bedroom decor. But when she began to see it as his cocoon, she found she could slowly find ways to move back in to his life and reach back in to his world. The caterpillar in this cocoon stage is going through profound changes, as is a teenager. Everything about them is changing; hair, body, voice, brain and so forth. It is a scary time.
Like I said before, I got to the end of the article and the tears were pouring down my face like sheets of spring rain. Aha! I have been thinking about how much I am afraid of these impending teen years because of the changes I see. I see that time with my children is slipping away. It is moving to fast. I am grieving it. I missed the perspective of my children and what it is like for them.
Smacking myself in the head. I used to be a teenager. I remember feeling isolated a lot. I remember feeling like my parents "just don't get it". I remember thinking torn between what life used to be like when I was a kid and then also all the exciting things that were happening with new freedoms. Sometimes, I just wanted to be a kid. Mostly what I wanted was to be heard.
My son, the one who just turned 11, told me on Sunday that I do not know him at all, that I do not understand him. I wanted to shout back at him, "Of course I do! I have known you since before your born. I held you closer than any other person the planet!" Things are changing inside him and he is right, in a sense, I do not know him. I know glimpses of him and what he shows me and tells me. It is now my job to connect back to him and ask him to share himself with me, to let him tell me who he thinks he is and to help him figure it out or to just be here and support him while he enters his cocoon, goes through these changes and we see what comes out at the end.
I still want to cry. I want him to stay a little boy forever. I still think about the baby who would reach out to me, smiling when I picked him up at the end of the day. It's hard to let go of that.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Birthday season is upon us
Today, my oldest son turns 11 years old. This is so unreal to me. He is so cute and has planned his whole day. We will be busy for sure. Right after school, BB and Peanut have doctor appointments (ones which had to be rescheduled from December and November due to our family's personal battle with H1N1), followed by BB's first basketball practice since he got sick in November and finally, a birthday dinner at the restaurant of his choice: Wise Guys pizza. None of us have ever been there so it's going to be interesting.
I have been working with him over the past year to gain more independence with personal hygiene. Each of my kids, with the exception of Peanut, can now turn on their own showers and complete that task with minimal intervention from mom, other than the occasional, "I need a towel." He floored me this week when he has begun to comb his hair daily, even trying various arrangements using hairspray and water and even deciding he wants to grow a mullet. Does this mean the same thing to him as it does to me? I'm not sure. I'm picturing the full Billy Ray Cyrus "business in the front-party in the back" hair and I want to scream. However, I am realizing that the time has come for me to let go of that too. And I should be grateful he is taking such an interest.
Earlier this year, BB and I had so many bathing battles. The last straw, and it could be the event that *finally* drove the point home to him that he was being utterly ridiculous, was when he was refusing to get in the shower and it has been days, possibly weeks since his last shower and he smelled bad! I jokingly, but with a serious mission in mind, chased him up the stairs and into the bathroom (My days of throwing him up over my shoulder passed with the last birthday.). He then continued to refuse to get in. I turned the water on, stripped him with my own eyes closed and then told him he needed to wash or I would do it for him. He did not believe me and just stood as far away from the water as possible. So, I pulled the curtain back and stepped in with one foot. He immediately got himself under the water and shouted, "Fine, I can do it myself." Since that day, it still takes a lot of cajoling to get him up to the shower but he will inform me, "I can do it all by myself and I DO NOT need any help from you." Excellent.
THis week, with the hairstyling and the combing every day, he tells me that "I have decided that I should take a shower every other day. That means I should take my next shower on Tuesday."
This my friends, is ownership.
I'm holding my breath as it is Tuesday and the day is young. He does have basketball practice, so I do have that little leverage. My plan is to merely remind him that he said he would do this and then, oh this is so hard for me, let it go.
To me, this is one of the hardest parts of parenting. The ultimate objective, after teaching them about the love of Jesus and I have done my job in teaching them about being Christians, is to set them out into the world as capable, confident, hopefully well-groomed and hygienic adults. However, it is also a bittersweet task because as they meet each objective in achieving their independence, it reminds me that the years are passing quickly and my time with them in this little family bubble is also passing quickly. Before I know it, they will be off on their own. I wonder if this is why I tease them each birthday and tell them how I would like them to stay this age "just a while longer". I've enjoyed them at this age and the next year brings us another step closer to their independence.
I think if I do a good job with parenting, they will leave my home but will always know that I am close to them. Our relationship will change. Just like BB declared he would no longer call me "Mommy" but simply "Mom", it is how it must be.
A month ago, Peanut turned 7. In a few weeks, Princess will turn 13 and will conclude our season of birthdays, until May when PH and I celebrate ours.
I have been working with him over the past year to gain more independence with personal hygiene. Each of my kids, with the exception of Peanut, can now turn on their own showers and complete that task with minimal intervention from mom, other than the occasional, "I need a towel." He floored me this week when he has begun to comb his hair daily, even trying various arrangements using hairspray and water and even deciding he wants to grow a mullet. Does this mean the same thing to him as it does to me? I'm not sure. I'm picturing the full Billy Ray Cyrus "business in the front-party in the back" hair and I want to scream. However, I am realizing that the time has come for me to let go of that too. And I should be grateful he is taking such an interest.
Earlier this year, BB and I had so many bathing battles. The last straw, and it could be the event that *finally* drove the point home to him that he was being utterly ridiculous, was when he was refusing to get in the shower and it has been days, possibly weeks since his last shower and he smelled bad! I jokingly, but with a serious mission in mind, chased him up the stairs and into the bathroom (My days of throwing him up over my shoulder passed with the last birthday.). He then continued to refuse to get in. I turned the water on, stripped him with my own eyes closed and then told him he needed to wash or I would do it for him. He did not believe me and just stood as far away from the water as possible. So, I pulled the curtain back and stepped in with one foot. He immediately got himself under the water and shouted, "Fine, I can do it myself." Since that day, it still takes a lot of cajoling to get him up to the shower but he will inform me, "I can do it all by myself and I DO NOT need any help from you." Excellent.
THis week, with the hairstyling and the combing every day, he tells me that "I have decided that I should take a shower every other day. That means I should take my next shower on Tuesday."
This my friends, is ownership.
I'm holding my breath as it is Tuesday and the day is young. He does have basketball practice, so I do have that little leverage. My plan is to merely remind him that he said he would do this and then, oh this is so hard for me, let it go.
To me, this is one of the hardest parts of parenting. The ultimate objective, after teaching them about the love of Jesus and I have done my job in teaching them about being Christians, is to set them out into the world as capable, confident, hopefully well-groomed and hygienic adults. However, it is also a bittersweet task because as they meet each objective in achieving their independence, it reminds me that the years are passing quickly and my time with them in this little family bubble is also passing quickly. Before I know it, they will be off on their own. I wonder if this is why I tease them each birthday and tell them how I would like them to stay this age "just a while longer". I've enjoyed them at this age and the next year brings us another step closer to their independence.
I think if I do a good job with parenting, they will leave my home but will always know that I am close to them. Our relationship will change. Just like BB declared he would no longer call me "Mommy" but simply "Mom", it is how it must be.
A month ago, Peanut turned 7. In a few weeks, Princess will turn 13 and will conclude our season of birthdays, until May when PH and I celebrate ours.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A Christmas I will not soon forget
Believe me, I write these words mostly to myself because I need to hear them. However, I knew going in to this Christmas season that it was going to be difficult. I knew things would not feel the same without my father. Even with knowing all of those things, I was still not prepared for how raw and emotional I was (and still am) going to be. I was not prepared for how emotional my kids would be. I expected it of my Mom, even though she keeps her pain close to herself and does not often let others see.
I wanted to prepare myself. I decided that I would start my own little family tradition. On Christmas Eve it was going to be only myself and my little family. So, I decided that I would allow my children to open two gifts. One was their present from their Grandma Jan, who is their father's mother. The other was from me and part of my new tradition. I gave them each a brand new pair of pajamas.
I planned the evening out. I planned the menu. I planned the order of things. I did not plan for variables. And the variables are where things fell apart. I had to work part of the day on Christmas Eve and I had to write a final paper for my Grad school class. That adds a lot of stress. Two of my children had been battling H1N1 all week and were still recovering. Princess had been sleeping off and on most of the day, waking up between the fevers and to cough. By the time I was ready to take all of us out to the service, she came upstairs and told me that she was feeling dizzy and was so tired. She proceeded to crawl into bed. The boys and I went ahead to church.
It was lovely and I managed to keep my annoyance at their "When is this over?" questions to a very low level. It did help to hand Pumpkin-head the bulletin so he could follow the order of service. And I do think that we enjoyed ourselves. When it was over, BB said, "You know, that was not that bad. I kind of liked it."
Back at home, I woke up Princess and suggested she get in the shower while I finished putting things together for our simple, no fuss dinner of crackers and cheese. I lit the candles on my mantle and set the ambiance. It looked so nice. I went in search of my camera, which Peanut had been using earlier, and could not find it. He looked but still has such short term memory and the attention span of a housefly, he gave up quickly.
I fell apart. I may have said something to the effect of, "Well, since none of you seem to care a bit at all about helping me find this camera so we can start our family Christmas, I may as well cancel it all and go to bed." And in a flood of tears, I ran upstairs. I continued to look, tears filling my eyes til I could not see any more. And I found myself muttering unkind things involving just about every person in my family. I groaned about how a silly purple camera was ruining my plans for a sweet, family Christmas. While sitting on the floor of my closet, it hit me.
It had nothing to do with perfect plans or purple cameras. It had nothing to do with my perceptions of insensitive people who cared more about their own stuff than the needs of others. This was grief. My heart was hurting. Christmas was not going to be perfect. No amount of planning or preparation was going to fix the pain I felt. Making sure that my kids were happy and content was not going to keep them from hurting. I could not plan away the sorrow and by pretending that I could, all I was doing was shoving it under the rug and pretending that the big lump sticking up wasn't there.
What I needed...what I wanted more than anything, was to have my Dad here. I wanted to go downstairs and see him sitting in my big brown chair with Peanut curled up in that little nook by his hip while they chatted about 7 year old secrets. I wanted to be able to go down, and as much as I would hate it, I wanted to smell the cigarette butts in my trashcan. I wanted to see his mug of coffee on my table. I wanted to hear his voice as he talked to my kids. I wanted him here and he was not.
Once I realized that THIS was what all of this freak-out was about, I was able to pull myself together. I wiped away the tears and saw my silly camera sitting on the floor by my window. I went downstairs and told the kids I was sorry for yelling at them but I was better now and we could start. The rest of the evening was fine. I enjoyed watching them open their two presents more than I have ever enjoyed it. We sat together and watched a silly movie in our pajamas eating crackers and cheese. We laughed and it hit me that I had indeed created a memory, minus the meltdown.
Christmas Day...a whole other story. So, lets just say:
To be continued...
I wanted to prepare myself. I decided that I would start my own little family tradition. On Christmas Eve it was going to be only myself and my little family. So, I decided that I would allow my children to open two gifts. One was their present from their Grandma Jan, who is their father's mother. The other was from me and part of my new tradition. I gave them each a brand new pair of pajamas.
I planned the evening out. I planned the menu. I planned the order of things. I did not plan for variables. And the variables are where things fell apart. I had to work part of the day on Christmas Eve and I had to write a final paper for my Grad school class. That adds a lot of stress. Two of my children had been battling H1N1 all week and were still recovering. Princess had been sleeping off and on most of the day, waking up between the fevers and to cough. By the time I was ready to take all of us out to the service, she came upstairs and told me that she was feeling dizzy and was so tired. She proceeded to crawl into bed. The boys and I went ahead to church.
It was lovely and I managed to keep my annoyance at their "When is this over?" questions to a very low level. It did help to hand Pumpkin-head the bulletin so he could follow the order of service. And I do think that we enjoyed ourselves. When it was over, BB said, "You know, that was not that bad. I kind of liked it."
Back at home, I woke up Princess and suggested she get in the shower while I finished putting things together for our simple, no fuss dinner of crackers and cheese. I lit the candles on my mantle and set the ambiance. It looked so nice. I went in search of my camera, which Peanut had been using earlier, and could not find it. He looked but still has such short term memory and the attention span of a housefly, he gave up quickly.
I fell apart. I may have said something to the effect of, "Well, since none of you seem to care a bit at all about helping me find this camera so we can start our family Christmas, I may as well cancel it all and go to bed." And in a flood of tears, I ran upstairs. I continued to look, tears filling my eyes til I could not see any more. And I found myself muttering unkind things involving just about every person in my family. I groaned about how a silly purple camera was ruining my plans for a sweet, family Christmas. While sitting on the floor of my closet, it hit me.
It had nothing to do with perfect plans or purple cameras. It had nothing to do with my perceptions of insensitive people who cared more about their own stuff than the needs of others. This was grief. My heart was hurting. Christmas was not going to be perfect. No amount of planning or preparation was going to fix the pain I felt. Making sure that my kids were happy and content was not going to keep them from hurting. I could not plan away the sorrow and by pretending that I could, all I was doing was shoving it under the rug and pretending that the big lump sticking up wasn't there.
What I needed...what I wanted more than anything, was to have my Dad here. I wanted to go downstairs and see him sitting in my big brown chair with Peanut curled up in that little nook by his hip while they chatted about 7 year old secrets. I wanted to be able to go down, and as much as I would hate it, I wanted to smell the cigarette butts in my trashcan. I wanted to see his mug of coffee on my table. I wanted to hear his voice as he talked to my kids. I wanted him here and he was not.
Once I realized that THIS was what all of this freak-out was about, I was able to pull myself together. I wiped away the tears and saw my silly camera sitting on the floor by my window. I went downstairs and told the kids I was sorry for yelling at them but I was better now and we could start. The rest of the evening was fine. I enjoyed watching them open their two presents more than I have ever enjoyed it. We sat together and watched a silly movie in our pajamas eating crackers and cheese. We laughed and it hit me that I had indeed created a memory, minus the meltdown.
Christmas Day...a whole other story. So, lets just say:
To be continued...
Thursday, October 8, 2009
One Month
My Dad has been gone one month, today. I still cannot believe he is really gone. I find myself thinking I can call him on the phone and chat with him about my day or his. Or that I could pull in to the driveway and he will be standing in the garage at his workbench, and he will turn and wave at me. Instead, the phone is unanswered. The garage stands empty. And I am very sad. And apparently, I do really dumb things when I am this sad.
For example: I woke up with a bad headache yesterday. It didn't start as a migraine but became one later. I decided that I would start my day a little later so I took some medicine and went back to bed. But I did not call work to say that this was what I was doing. My supervisor was very frustrated with me and also probably very disappointed. She left me several voice mails asking me to explain what happened and then scheduled a meeting with me today to discuss it.
I wracked my brain all day and all night to figure out why I would do such a stupid thing. I have never done that before. It's very irresponsible and very unlike me to do that. I had no good reason for it. Until I talked to my mom and she told me it is grief. But she warned me that I need to increase my awareness of my grief and make sure that I still keep up with my responsibilities while dealing with my sadness.
On the same day, BB lost a shoe and did not get on the bus. He and I looked every where and could not find the shoe. I still have no idea where that silly shoe could be. So, I told him we would drive up to Target and get him new shoes. He really did need them but I had been asking him to wait til payday which was a mere 2 days away. My 1 hour of lateness turned into 3, thanks to a missing shoe and construction traffic.
To add to my day, I got an email from Peanut's teacher informing me that Peanut only had a juice box in his lunch and the lunch helpers had him go through the line because he would need more to eat than that. Then he said that if Peanut ever needs a lunch, just let him know and he would take care of it.
While this was very kind and sweet, I felt so silly again. I tried to explain that I am teaching my children to make their own lunches and Peanut packed his own but I did not know why he only put the juice in there. When I asked him later, he told me he just ran out of time and couldn't find anything else to put in it.
It's a training issue, not a food issue. Again, my Mom suggested that these two incidences are also signs of grief. Forgetfulness. Maybe.
For example: I woke up with a bad headache yesterday. It didn't start as a migraine but became one later. I decided that I would start my day a little later so I took some medicine and went back to bed. But I did not call work to say that this was what I was doing. My supervisor was very frustrated with me and also probably very disappointed. She left me several voice mails asking me to explain what happened and then scheduled a meeting with me today to discuss it.
I wracked my brain all day and all night to figure out why I would do such a stupid thing. I have never done that before. It's very irresponsible and very unlike me to do that. I had no good reason for it. Until I talked to my mom and she told me it is grief. But she warned me that I need to increase my awareness of my grief and make sure that I still keep up with my responsibilities while dealing with my sadness.
On the same day, BB lost a shoe and did not get on the bus. He and I looked every where and could not find the shoe. I still have no idea where that silly shoe could be. So, I told him we would drive up to Target and get him new shoes. He really did need them but I had been asking him to wait til payday which was a mere 2 days away. My 1 hour of lateness turned into 3, thanks to a missing shoe and construction traffic.
To add to my day, I got an email from Peanut's teacher informing me that Peanut only had a juice box in his lunch and the lunch helpers had him go through the line because he would need more to eat than that. Then he said that if Peanut ever needs a lunch, just let him know and he would take care of it.
While this was very kind and sweet, I felt so silly again. I tried to explain that I am teaching my children to make their own lunches and Peanut packed his own but I did not know why he only put the juice in there. When I asked him later, he told me he just ran out of time and couldn't find anything else to put in it.
It's a training issue, not a food issue. Again, my Mom suggested that these two incidences are also signs of grief. Forgetfulness. Maybe.
Friday, October 2, 2009
I am really struggling. I am hating the fact that I have to work. I am hating the fact that my house is falling apart. The laundry is piling up. The bathrooms are natural disasters. I'm afraid that something furry is going to grow in my kitchen because I have dishes to do. I feel as if I am stuck in slow motion while the rest of the world has sped up. I fear I will never catch up.
And I wonder if people forget that I am still grieving, that it is going to take a long time for me to feel normal again, for me to wake up and not feel like crying every day, for me to not wish I could just pick up the phone and call my Dad, just to hear his voice. I am afraid I will forget what his voice sounds like. It's horribly unfair.
My kids are working through their sadness in their own ways. Pumpkin-head had some regression back to wetting the bed a few times. That seems to have stopped but he worried every night that he was going to do it again. All of them have issues with concentration and focus in school. Peanut is the one who just breaks my heart because he will ask me questions that are completely out of the blue, in my eyes.
"What if you die, Mom?"
"Is Aunt Desert Bloom dead?"
"What if Charley dies?"
"I sure do miss Grandpa."
Bless his little, 6 year old heart. He is trying so hard to grasp it all. And he is afraid. So, when he asks me questions like this, I just try to answer honestly.
Well, sweetie, we don't have a guarantee about how long we will live. But when Mommy does die, I'm going to be with Jesus in heaven, so that is a good thing. I wonder if you worry about who will take care of you? You will not be alone. Aunt Desert Bloom or the Mrs and Biker Boy will take care of you. Mom will make sure that you are taken care of.
I need to write up my will and make these plans official.
And I wonder if people forget that I am still grieving, that it is going to take a long time for me to feel normal again, for me to wake up and not feel like crying every day, for me to not wish I could just pick up the phone and call my Dad, just to hear his voice. I am afraid I will forget what his voice sounds like. It's horribly unfair.
My kids are working through their sadness in their own ways. Pumpkin-head had some regression back to wetting the bed a few times. That seems to have stopped but he worried every night that he was going to do it again. All of them have issues with concentration and focus in school. Peanut is the one who just breaks my heart because he will ask me questions that are completely out of the blue, in my eyes.
"What if you die, Mom?"
"Is Aunt Desert Bloom dead?"
"What if Charley dies?"
"I sure do miss Grandpa."
Bless his little, 6 year old heart. He is trying so hard to grasp it all. And he is afraid. So, when he asks me questions like this, I just try to answer honestly.
Well, sweetie, we don't have a guarantee about how long we will live. But when Mommy does die, I'm going to be with Jesus in heaven, so that is a good thing. I wonder if you worry about who will take care of you? You will not be alone. Aunt Desert Bloom or the Mrs and Biker Boy will take care of you. Mom will make sure that you are taken care of.
I need to write up my will and make these plans official.
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