All Hail, the QUEEN!

I'm such a Drama Queen.

No matter how hard I try to quit, I keep finding myself mired in the muck.

Oh, well. I guess a mud bath is good for you now and then. Doesn't it help exfoliate? Maybe a good wallow will help scrub off some of the old, dead emotions that are just hanging around, clogging the soul.

Just so long as we don't stay stuck in the muck, right?

That's why it's handy to have someone hanging around, ready to help pull us out when the sticky slime tries to suck us back in.

Someone strong.

Someone smart.

Someone funny.

Someone who doesn't mind getting his shoes a little muddy.

Everyone needs a Knight in Shining Armor.

Mine drives a Honda and wields power tools.

Confession

It's my birthday. I wish it wasn't.

I don't feel like celebrating.

I don't want to slap on the "happy face" and act all excited.

I don't want to answer the phone or see my email box full of Facebook notices about all the people who wrote on my "wall".

I don't want to figure out where to go for dinner, or how to spend my birthday money. It's just more pressure to make more decisions.

I don't want to pretend it's a special day when it really isn't: there's still work to do, laundry to put away, dishes to be washed, food to prepare, chauffering to do. Life still has to go on. I can't put everything on hold just because it's my "special day".

Birthday is just one more "to do" this year. I'd rather make it a "to don't". That's what I really want for my birthday. A day off. From EVERYthing. Every social obligation, work obligation, family obligation, home obligation, decision obligation, church obligation, a day off from my To Do list.

I feel like such a jerk because people are genuinely wishing me a good day and I just want it all to go away.

I'm such a cow. Moo.

Troll Tirade

Something has been bugging me lately. It's an itch I can't scratch so I'm just going to say it and let it go.

I'm a fan. I'm a fan of certain books and movies. I get a little crazy about my fandom sometimes, but it's just fun. Trust me, I'm most definitely grounded in reality. Sometimes crushed by Reality. Which is why I enjoy my fandemonium.

I get that not everyone is a fan of everything. I get that not everyone understands why someone could like something that they themselves don't like. Tirade alert: THAT DOESN'T GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO CRAP ALL OVER SOMEONE ELSE'S EXCITEMENT!! Just because you yourself do not care for something doesn't mean that you are better than that person. It also doesn't mean that you now have free license to call them stupid or dumb, or worse, launch into a list of why that person has bad taste, or try to change their mind!! Because frankly, some of the stuff that you like, I think is dumb and in bad taste, but I think it's cool that you have something you like and get excited about. Go, you!

SO, let's all just quit being trolls, shall we?

Thanks, and good day.

Tirade over.

I should just keep my big mouth shut...

I just reread my last post. All optimism for the next big adventure after graduation. All bright shiny hope for what was on the other side of that Door of Opportunity. Well, I found out all right. And, it's been kicking my rear ever since. Why didn't I keep my wonderings to myself? It's almost like inviting the universe: "Come and get me, please!"

In the last month and a half I've feared for my sanity on a daily basis. That balance thing I was looking for when I started this blog all those months ago....yeah, that dream's been pretty much vaporized. But, the most amazing thing in all of this is the fact that I actually wouldn't change it if I could. It's been pretty amazing at times, and, in this moment, I think it's all worth it.

But, check back with me tomorrow. I might be ready for the men to bring me that nice white coat with all the shiny buckles....

Pomp and Circumstance

Two years ago, The Mr. came home late at night buzzing with energy and some excitement.  It was the first of two years worth of late nights he would spend working towards his MBA.  Nights and weekends were now defined by projects, presentations, conference calls, and team meetings.  Our week revolved around class nights and sometimes class weekends.  

Drama.           Work.            Stress.

Last night he came home late. 

Buzzing again.  

For the last time.

  

He's finished.  

Hallelujah!

It's bittersweet.  He's thrilled to be done with homework and presentations, late nights and projects.  I'm delighted to have the Mr. back full time.  I miss him when he's buried in school. However, he will miss the people.  The stimulating and challenging nature of working with intelligent and driven colleagues.  I'll miss having an evening or two a week where I can get away with PB&J for dinner and have the remote to myself, guilt-free.  

Once again we will both have to find a new rhythm, learn new steps, make a few adjustments.  So, it really isn't an ending, it's just another new beginning.  

I wonder where we'll end up this time?

Uncompromising Balance

Since I've had kids my life has been all about simplification.  Especially lately.  I've been trying to strip things down to the essentials.  To cut through all of the excess and get to what really matters, what is truly important.  I've been learning to say "No" to the extras so that I have more time, more energy, even more money to say "Yes" when it means the most.  It is a liberating feeling to shed the burdens, both physical and mental.  It's even more liberating to release myself from the guilt or even dissatisfaction that goes with the "not enough" philosophy.  

However (you knew it was coming, right?), I am finding that there are things that I don't want to simplify, my whole being rebels at the very idea.  It's probably also some of the things I most need to simplify.  I have jokingly referred to myself as having "Crafting ADHD" because I have far too many hobbies and bounce around doing too many projects and have too many Big Ideas.  I'm a total spaz when it comes to inspiration, and it's hard to settle on one thing for very long.  Most of the time I manage to complete the projects, but until they're done they take over my brain, my life, my house, and my money.  Unfortunately, there are plenty of times when I get the Big Idea, make purchases for the Big Idea, and then fizzle.  It's embarrassing to admit, but I have a whole room full of fizzled Big Ideas.  This is an area of my life that is ripe for simplification, ready to cut out the excess of Big Ideas that take over my life and Fizzlers that suck up space in my brain and in my house.   I know I should take control of those Big Ideas and change them into Little Ideas that don't take over my life.  Or if I can't manage to simplify the idea, then I need to say "No" before it simply becomes another Fizzler.  

I.   just.  can't.  do.  it.

I've thought about this.   A lot.  Why am I unable to successfully simplify here?  

Here's what I've discovered:  my life right now is full of compromises, it's full of accepting less than the ideal.  Not in a bad way.  It's actually very positive that I've been able to let go of enough perfectionism that I can actually live my life and be happy with what is rather than what I think it should be.  It's healthier for me and it's healthier for my family.  It's being flexible and adaptable and it's necessary.  My life and my work right now is so very intangible.  Most of what I do all day every day is not something to be seen or held or measured.  So, when I actually do have something that I've worked on, spent time on, something that will last longer than 5 minutes, I don't want to compromise.  I want to be able to dream big and create big.  I want perfection.  I don't think that's such a bad thing.  It's balance.  It's retaining control or perfectionism in one small area of my life so that I can relinquish control and perfectionism in the areas of my life where those two qualities would do the most damage.  

And, balance, that precarious juggling act of everyday life, is the whole point.

Right?

On How I Became the Warrior Mama

I had another one of those moments today.  The ones where I suddenly realize, again, that I'm on a different path than many of the people around me; a path I never expected to tread.  

Years ago when I thought about becoming a mother I was nervous and excited.  I wanted to be the Ideal Mom.  The one who baked cookies with the children and rolled around on the floor with them,  played games, read books, sang songs, snuggled, giggled, kissed and cuddled, and taught them all of the wonders in the world and out of it.  I had this romantic Super Mom image in my head created from all of my reading as a child about the kind of cool, fun, loving, and Perfect Mother I was going to be.  I thought it would come naturally and easily to me simply because I wanted so much to be that person, I would find a way to make it happen.

When we had a little trouble getting pregnant as quickly as we wanted it was only a little fly in my ointment.  I tried to remain positive as I watched friends bellies swell, went to baby showers, and sat watching these new mothers beam with pride and gloating over their little accomplishments.   The comments about wanting to see us "get started" stung a little, but I tried to brush it aside with the thought that it would happen for us "when the time was right".  And, it did happen, as it so often does, when I had given up trying to remain in control.  When I finally relaxed and committed it to the hands of the Lord, it did come.  And I was happy.  It was exciting to finally begin to plan in earnest.

Fast forward a few months into my pregnancy and all was going well. We had just returned from a fun trip to Disneyland and I was starting to swell just a bit going into my last trimester.  When I walked into my doctor's office that week for a check-up I had no idea that I would not be going home until I had delivered a baby.  The swelling was worse than I knew.  I was dumping protein.  The test at the doctor's office sent me to the hospital for a more conclusive test, which concluded I needed a 24 hour test, which concluded that I had full blown preeclampsia and would be on bed rest at the hospital until I could no longer carry the baby.  For a young couple, embarking on our first parenting experience this was overwhelming and completely new.   In neither of our families did we have experience with this kind of birth drama.  As we navigated the difficult waters of trying to understand our situation, trying to make wise decisions about our situation when we didn't understand it, and trying to reassure ourselves and our families about what we didn't truly understand, I had no idea that this would become a pattern of our lives as parents.

When my precious little girl finally entered this world, 9 weeks early, precariously premature and tiny (3 lbs!), I could only focus on the miracle of her birth and the preservation of her life and mine.  I could only get through one day at a time as we both recovered.  

It was the Mr. who first had to embrace his role as Warrior Dad, to be strong enough to protect me and our child from Too Much of Everything.  He had to deal with doctors, nurses, administrators, family, friends, all who had something to tell us or some decision for us to make, or who themselves wanted Answers from us.  Answers we so often didn't have.  And he did it.  He was our rock.  Our Protector.  Our Knight in shining Adidas.  It was his strength and courage to stand up for us that gave me the strength and courage to stand up for my girl and fight for what we thought was best for her.  The doctors and nurses and administrators didn't always understand or agree with our choices.  I'm sure our families didn't either.  But we did what we thought was best for her, and we did it together because we were a Family now.  Even if it wasn't the ideal picture I had created in my head.  

We had landed in the land of the Preemies, Complications, Developmental Delays, and eventually Autism, and we had a much different journey to take than the one we had planned.  Upon our arrival in this strange new world we had to quickly adjust to new rules, new directions, new skills, and a whole new language.  It's taken nearly 8 years of learning to adapt to this new destination, and I find that I'm constantly making little adjustments all along as our path changes and alters abruptly here and there.  

Today as I sat at the school I felt another adjustment coming upon us.  I felt the drum of my heartbeat as I started to mentally suit up for another battle, another skirmish in defense of my child brewing.  I'm more prepared today than I was all those years ago.  I've got some experience, gained some weapons, and some confidence I wish I had had when this all started.  

At least now I know who I am, what my role is.  

I am the Warrior Mama.  

Bring it on.