Now I'm awake...

I wasn't going to blog today.  I was heading to bed, tired after a day of housekeeping, child keeping, and sanity keeping.  I came into my room and to the side of the bed, over the alarm clock on the wall by the head board was a spider.  !!!  He was big and black and there was NO WAY he was going to be living much longer.  I hhhhaaaatttee spiders.  Always have.  I had nightmares about spiders as a child.  Me and Ron Weasley are kindred spirits.  

As Mom I have to don the cape and swoop to the rescue of my children when the spiders appear.  I am tough and dispatch of them without a quiver under the watchful eyes of my daughters, showing them, "see? Nothing to be afraid of."  All the while inside I'm shrieking and doing the Flip Out dance-----you know, the one with the prancing/jumping on tip toe, hands flapping, saying "ew! ew! ew!"  If the Mr. is home, I make him do all of the spider eradication, no matter how small.  And, it's not enough just to squash them.  No, no.  They must be squashed and flushed down the toilet for insurance.

So, to come into my bedroom and see a fairly large spider on the wall next to my head board gave me the quivers.  The Mr. is still out on business.  I'm on my own.  Gulp.  However, I gathered my courage and told myself to buck up.  I put on my shoes (you choose your armor, I'll choose mine) and a great wad of toilet paper, and with my nightie billowing around my ankles, I carefully approached said spider.  I got close and moved the alarm cord out of the way.  It ran.  FAST.  Aaaagggghhhhahhhhaaaaa!  

I managed to keep the screaming to myself and leaned the headboard back as far as it would go.  No spider.  I shoved the bed out of the way and moved the headboard all the way out of the way.  No spider.  I moved all the bits of things under the bed away from the wall.  NO SPIDER!  It's disappeared.  I can't sleep in this bed with a rogue spider on the loose.  Especially a turbo charged rogue spider.  I'm currently down at the other end of my bed facing the wall and keeping my eye out for the little jet fueled demon to reappear.  

When I came in to go to bed I was already half asleep.  Not anymore.  Hello, Insomnia.

Here We Go Again

Today was the big day.  Anticipated all summer by the littles, anticipated for several years by me.  The day I would install my offspring into their classrooms and walk away a free woman.  

I planned skipping.  And jumping.  Projects.  Cleaning.  Decluttering.  Painting.  I had Big Plans.  There was a list a mile long of what I was going to get done as soon as I had some child free hours to myself in which to accomplish it all.  I was going to relish my newfound free time and really make it count for something. 

I was worried there might be tears.  And clinging.  (I dread the clinging.)  Instead, both children were deeply disappointed to learn that they would be escorted to class this first momentous day.  "Mom," they said, "we know where we're going and what to do, just drop us off."  In the nicest way possible, I said, "Fat Chance."  I could barely keep up as we crossed the playground to drop off Big Sis first, (that may or may not have had anything to do with the two grocery bags FULL of paper, glue, tissues, wipes, and various other supplies for each child, I was carrying; I'm surprised my arms didn't fall off in the process).

The scene was nearly the same at both classrooms: obligatory posing for photos by the backpack, looking around for friends, "K-byemomIloveyouseeyouafterschool," rushing off to play on the playground, me standing there, them turning around to see me with a look that said "are you still here?", me still standing there, standing there, standing there, and finally deciding it was okay to go.   

As I finally made my way out of the school and slowly walked to my car I pondered these independent little gals.  What had happened in the night to transform them from Nervous Nellies to Daring Divas?  Where did that come from?  Surely I was proud of them.  Relieved that we had avoided the tears and clinging.   I kept waiting for the release, for the sense of Freedom to descend upon me, for the skipping and jumping.  

It didn't come.

I returned to the quiet house, waiting expectantly for me and my Big Plans.  I just stood in the doorway, unsure.  In all of my waiting and planning for this day I never imagined that I would feel so...so...lost.  Suddenly I realized that maybe I wasn't ready for this emptying nest.  In all my preparing my children for this day, I had neglected to truly prepare myself.  They were ready and anxious to get on with their new adventure and leave me behind, and I realized that I'm not quite ready for it.  

So, as I struggle to figure out, once again, who I am and what I'm doing in this new stage of motherhood, I've realized that there will be tears.  

And clinging.  

Definitely clinging.

Back to School Bonanza

Today was the last day of Summer at our house.  

Tomorrow we are back to school.  

We spent much of today in preparation for the Big Day.  I cleaned out old clothes, making way for the fresh new school clothes.  We chose the special First Day of School Outfits and they are as bright and bold as the girls who will be sporting them.  This afternoon we spent some time at the school getting to know Big Sis's teacher, classroom, and playground in an effort to help her with the changes.  After that meeting we went to Kindergarten Orientation for Lil' Sis and she was all nerves.  She kept curling up into a ball on my lap.  It's such a strange experience to see my little fireball subdued into a little match flame.  She usually fills up any room with her very presence.  She must be nervous indeed.  

After all of the meetings we went to the PTA Ice Cream Social to have a popsicle and hang out with friends we haven't seen all summer.  It's a nice Farewell to Summer and Hello to School event, a nice way to end the summer on an exclamation point!  Sometimes it's easier to make the transition when there is an event to signal the change from old to new, something in our brain makes the shift more easily when associated with a party or celebration.  

It's all wildly exciting, but tonight as I decorated pencil boxes and packed the new backpacks with requested supplies, I couldn't suppress a little quiver of anxiety.  

I'm nervous for them.  It's a new year with new challenges, new friends, new teachers.  For Lil' Sis this is a big change...this is It.  Kindergarten.  The whole enchilada.  How will it go?  How will they do?  Have I taught them enough?  Have I prepared them enough for the Big Bad World?  I have to hope so, because tomorrow they embark on their new adventure, ready or not.  I should have more faith in my two little spitfires.  They both came into this world on their own terms and in their own ways, and have carried on that tradition.  They'll be fine.  

But, will I?

Feline Felicity

This is my cat, Buster.  

We call him The General, or the War Beast, for his prowess as a hunter of all things small and furry or feathery, and for his general toughness and tenacity when it comes to claiming and maintaining his territory.  Nobody messes with his Royal Fightyness.

He's your typical Rum Tum Tugger cat (and if you don't know Rum Tum Tugger, then you need to make the acquaintance of a little book called "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats", by T.S. Eliot.  I recommend the version illustrated by Edward Gorey).  In essence he's Mr. Unsatisfied.  If he's in, he wants out.  If he's up, he wants down.  If you're busy, he wants a love, but if you have time for him, he wants nothing to do with you.  You get the idea.

He also has the uncanny ability to settle wherever it's most inconvenient for his humans; on my newspaper, my keyboard or mousepad, my book, etc.  His favorite sleeping place is on the legs of his humans whilst we're trying to sleep.  It's almost like it's a game for him to see how weirdly contorted we can sleep or to see how much of the bed he can conquer and claim in one night.  Currently he's sprawled out on my bed right about where my knees should be, making it hard for me to hold my laptop on my lap properly to write.  This, after he stole my spot next to my pillow while I was gone for just a minute.  I should mention that the Mr. is on a business trip right now so there is no reason for my cat to be crowding me in this fashion.  He has the whole rest of the bed that he could sprawl on and claim.  

So, why haven't I kicked him off the bed yet?  Did I mention that the Mr. is away on business? At night is when it's most lonely to have him gone, so it's nice to have some quiet company to provide a little comfort.  Even if he is clingy and has cat food breath.

Another piece of the puzzle

I actually started this post last week and I've been working it over in my mind for a few days now.  I needed to come back to it because I just couldn't seem to get it right.  I think I've got it now.  Maybe.

My book club met here last night and I have to say a few words about it because it was like a puzzle piece fitting snugly into place in the right way at the right time in my life.  I can't not write about it.

We read Viktor Frankl's book, Man's Search for Meaning, and it's about his own experiences in the concentration camps of World War II and how it applies to his theories of logotherapy.  On the surface it sounds depressing at worst and dry text bookish at best.  However, I found it to be compelling and inspiring.  In a nutshell (if it's even possible to boil it down) his point is that we as human beings must have meaning or purpose in our lives; as long as we have that meaning or purpose then we can survive even the most miserable and horrifying of experiences.  He quotes Nietzsche: "He who has a why to live for can bear with almost any how."  When we lose sight of our whys then we start to have difficulty coping with all the hows in our lives.  This is precisely what I have been working on lately; I've realized that in many ways I have lost sight of my "why's".  I'm too caught up in the survival of it all.  It's one of the reasons I started this blog.  I was trying to remind myself of all the "why's" in my life.  To connect with the meanings that give my life purpose and direction.

  The second point he makes is that even when we have nothing left, circumstances are totally out of our control, we do still have one thing.  We ultimately have the ability to choose how we respond, whether we allow our circumstances to control us or whether we are able to turn them into personal triumph.  It really does boil down to our own attitude, it can make or break us.  Which may sound like an easy answer, but in the day to day living that can be very hard.  It was a reminder that I needed.  And, to come full circle, I think when we appreciate the "why's" of our lives and focus on them with greater purpose, we are more able to master our attitudes and achieve that personal triumph he speaks of.

Frankl says it more beautifully and profoundly than I ever could, but these were ideas and concepts that have been simmering in the back of my mind for some time now.  It was one of those rare moments of harmony when external and internal life connect in a more meaningful way.  

There are things in this book that we all need to be reminded of from time to time.  Which is why this book is now on my list of rotating reads, the ones I return to often because they have become dear friends.  We learn something new from them every time we visit with them and we always come away richer for the experience.  I'm always excited to find another friend to keep handy on my shelf, ready for a visit whenever the mood strikes.  

So, welcome to my collection, Mr. Frankl, I believe you'll be around for a good long while.

Kidasana (kid-AH-SAH-NAH)

Tonight we had an excess of energy amongst the wee ones and it was just a little chilly so we decided to do a little yoga.  Now, yoga at our house consists of two giggling girls on a single pink yoga mat and me trying to remember the few yoga poses I know, while at the same time trying to convince my muscles to let me do them.  There's also a lot of flopping around like dead fishes, but I'm not naming names.

The really delightful part came after the downward dogs and mountain poses were all done.  I watched from the sidelines as Little Sis and Big Sis came up with their own poses.  First, there was the Nightstand, followed by the Flamingo (the Flopping Flamingo rather), then we had Lion pose, Snake tail, and The Stretcher.  Last time we did yoga there was the Snowman as well.   I can't even begin to describe what these poses looked like, so fleeting was their existence.  Only the Flamingo was attempted more than once, but only because it caused the biggest giggles.  

It was mommy nirvana.

Caterpillars and Butterflies

Our family is in a bit of a transition lately.  We've been in survival mode for so long that we've sort of lost our sense of direction a bit.  It's a bit like being lost in a sandstorm or a blizzard; we've been clinging so tightly together to get through the endless barrage that we've kind of gotten off the track.  There's nothing wrong in this, we just need a little reorienting, a little moment to fine tune our coordinates so to speak.  In a way we're experiencing growing pains.  

In our children's lives and often in the teenage years we recognize these moments of change and growth, and the excesses of emotion and struggle that accompany these changes, for what they are: growing pains.  They are phases we must pass through to enter into the next stage of life.  What we seem to forget or ignore is that we keep growing and changing our whole lives.  We don't suddenly become a Grown Up one day, and that's it.  We continue to evolve and change as our life experiences mold us and shape us on a daily basis.  We find love, we marry, we have children, and all of these major events in our lives affect us.  Isn't it natural that some of those same feelings of insecurity, fear of the unknown, and even downright panic would accompany these transitions in adulthood?  Not only is there insecurity and fear, there is also some exhilaration and excitement as we stretch our wings a bit and learn what we really can do.  Hopefully there is that wild, out of control, anything can happen,  and "I can make anything happen" feeling too.  It makes us alive.  It's what makes us different from the rocks and trees, the mouse and the monkey.  We learn and grow and hopefully, improve.

I have a lot more to say about all this (honestly, when don't I have a lot to say?), but for now I'll content myself with a quote.  I'm a word collector and when I come across the exact word, or phrase, or way of expressing a thought, feeling, or idea I swiftly scoop it up and hoard it like a precious jewel.  This is one of them:

"Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a beautiful butterfly."

I'm still trying to find that butterfly.