Hmmmm.... Where to start? I guess saying that today was a better day. The kids slept through the night last night--A miracle! Actually, I have a theory about that. I think that Abbie spends so much time awake during the middle of the night because it's the only time that she can see Alan. My theory was validated last night when she slept all night long because he wasn't home. I digress. I didn't sleep too well--I never sleep well without Alan home, but at least I didn't have to be up with the kids. That was a huge blessing. Anyways, we got up, showered, ate breakfast and got ready for church. Amazingly, we were out the door on time!
I debated for a while last night and even a little this morning on whether or not I wanted to take the kids to church. That was stupid. I'm so glad that I went. It was wonderful to see friends, many of whom I hadn't seen in a while because we've been sick and out of town, etc. I needed to be bouyed up. As I looked around the chapel, I counted at least three other women who were there without their husbands. Not just sitting alone because their husbands were on the stands, but actually alone at church. It was strangely comforting. More than that, it was humbling. It was like I was slapped in the face--"Hey lady! You're not the only one!"
One of the talks at church today was about the talk that I posted yesterday. In our church, the clergy does not do the speaking during our meetings. The members do the speaking. I was so blessed by the people who spoke today. I felt like I learned something from each of them. The woman who spoke about the talk that I posted yesterday did an amazing job. Again, I felt like she was speaking to me. Thank you so much. If I had gotten nothing else out of church today, your talk was proof to me that I was supposed to be there.
And then miracle of miracles, Alan got done with work early at like 11 and came to the end of church! The kids and I hadn't seen him since Friday night, so it was a lovely surprise. To top it off, our home teacher seemed to be incredibly in tune with the Spirit and offered to watch the kids for a couple of hours this afternoon. I can honestly say that God was watching over me today. I totally didn't deserve it, especially after my rant yesterday, but there He was. I am blessed.
I did find something pretty amusing at church today that I just have to throw in here. Our Relief Society lesson was about virtue. One of the things that was brought up a couple of times was swearing. Hee hee.
Anyways, this afternoon, we dropped our kids off at our home teacher's house. The kids are friends with their kids and were excited to play. Alan and I didn't really do anything. We just went for a drive. It was nice to get out for an hour. When we went back, we were invited to stay for dinner. It was so wonderful. I wonder if this family knows what they did for us today. I'm sure that they don't, but I do hope that they are blessed for it. It was so nice to talk to adults for a few hours--To talk to another mom with kids the same ages as mine. I realized that I used to do things like that a lot. I've become a shut-in. I felt so much better leaving their house. I think that they sensed that things have been difficult because they offered to babysit for us next Saturday if Alan can get off for the evening. (I'm really hoping!) What good people they are. These are the kind of people who I can only hope to be like someday.
So here's what I've come to: I didn't use to sit at home all day alone. Abbie and Nate and I used to get out and hang out with friends. I didn't used to be bitter and angry. I didn't used to hate life. I need to be proactive. This situation isn't going to change. The only thing that can change is how I react to it. Period. So I am going to call people. I am going to suck up my insecurities and call people, despite my worries that they don't like me. I am going to make plans ahead of time--Days ahead of time. I am going to make lots of plans, for every day. I'm going to take control of my life. I'm going to stop letting life control me. Here we go!
Rachel, sorry Adeline has been sick. It's always something, isn't it? Is OB as bad for Sam as you thought it would be? I'll call you this week. Let's do something.
Erin, life is funny, isn't it? It's so true that in high school, I did know you through your sister. But motherhood really does bring people together! I know a lot of people doing PhD programs. That can be pretty ridiculous too. How much longer does he have? I'm so glad that you've found a job to get you through things. Hang in there! And thank you for your comments!
Kara, the 80 hour work week is a law, but they sort of cheat. It's an 80 hour average over 4 weeks. So you can work 100+ hours one week as long as it's not more than 320 hours in 4 weeks. And you have to have 1 day off every 7 days, but that's over 4 weeks too. They screw them as much as they can. Garrick so made the right choice!! Tell him he's a genius!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
None Were With Him
Every six months, in April and October, the leadership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gives a General Conference. Counsel is given and we are taught. This past General Conference, I tried to listen as it was broadcast over the internet, although Alan was on call all weekend, so it was difficult to listen while keeping the kids occupied. I did manage to hear one talk. I believe that I heard that one talk for a reason. Even as I listened earlier this month, I remember thinking that it was the best talk that I've ever heard. I love that it is doctrine. Sometimes the talks that are very opinionated and not so much doctrinally based really bother me. Anyways... I loved this talk. After I wrote my, um, colorful entry earlier, I had this talk pop into my head. Actually, I was talking to a friend about it yesterday, ironically enough. I found it at lds.org and was amazed at how it truly spoke to me. It's like it was written for me. I thought I'd post it here. Maybe it will be comforting to someone else too.
None Were with Him
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland
Of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
Trumpeted from the summit of Calvary is the truth that we will never be left alone nor unaided, even if sometimes we may feel that we are.
Thank you, Sister Thompson, and thanks to the remarkable women of this Church. Brothers and sisters, my Easter-season message today is intended for everyone, but it is directed in a special way to those who are alone or feel alone or, worse yet, feel abandoned. These might include those longing to be married, those who have lost a spouse, and those who have lost—or have never been blessed with—children. Our empathy embraces wives forsaken by their husbands, husbands whose wives have walked away, and children bereft of one or the other of their parents—or both. This group can find within its broad circumference a soldier far from home, a missionary in those first weeks of homesickness, or a father out of work, afraid the fear in his eyes will be visible to his family. In short it can include all of us at various times in our lives.
To all such, I speak of the loneliest journey ever made and the unending blessings it brought to all in the human family. I speak of the Savior’s solitary task of shouldering alone the burden of our salvation. Rightly He would say: “I have trodden the winepress alone; and of the people there was none with me. . . . I looked, and there was none to help; and I wondered that there was none to uphold [me].”1
As President Uchtdorf so beautifully noted earlier, we know from scripture that Jesus’s messianic arrival in Jerusalem on the Sunday preceding Passover, a day directly analogous to this very morning, was a great public moment. But eagerness to continue walking with Him would quickly begin to wane.
Soon enough He was arraigned before the Israelite leaders of the day—first Annas, the former high priest, then Caiaphas, the current high priest. In their rush to judgment these men and their councils declared their verdict quickly and angrily. “What further need have we of witnesses?” they cried. “He is [worthy] of death.”2
With that He was brought before the gentile rulers in the land. Herod Antipas, the tetrarch of Galilee, interrogated Him once, and Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor in Judea, did so twice, the second time declaring to the crowd, “I, having examined him before you, have found no fault in this man.”3 Then, in an act as unconscionable as it was illogical, Pilate “scourged Jesus, [and] delivered him to be crucified.”4 Pilate’s freshly washed hands could not have been more stained or more unclean.
Such ecclesiastical and political rejection became more personal when the citizenry in the street turned against Jesus as well. It is one of the ironies of history that sitting with Jesus in prison was a real blasphemer, a murderer and revolutionary known as Barabbas, a name or title in Aramaic meaning “son of the father.”5 Free to release one prisoner in the spirit of the Passover tradition, Pilate asked the people, “Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you?” They said, “Barabbas.”6 So one godless “son of the father” was set free while a truly divine Son of His Heavenly Father moved on to crucifixion.
This was also a telling time among those who knew Jesus more personally. The most difficult to understand in this group is Judas Iscariot. We know the divine plan required Jesus to be crucified, but it is wrenching to think that one of His special witnesses who sat at His feet, heard Him pray, watched Him heal, and felt His touch could betray Him and all that He was for 30 pieces of silver. Never in the history of this world has so little money purchased so much infamy. We are not the ones to judge Judas’s fate, but Jesus said of His betrayer, “Good [were it] for that man if he had not been born.”7
Of course others among the believers had their difficult moments as well. Following the Last Supper, Jesus left Peter, James, and John to wait while He ventured into the Garden of Gethsemane alone. Falling on His face in prayer, “sorrowful . . . unto death,”8 the record says, His sweat came as great drops of blood9 as He pled with the Father to let this crushing, brutal cup pass from Him. But, of course, it could not pass. Returning from such anguished prayer He found His three chief disciples asleep, prompting Him to ask, “Could ye not watch with me one hour?”10 So it happens two more times until on His third return He says compassionately, “Sleep on now, and take your rest,”11 though there would be no rest for Him.
Later, after Jesus’s arrest and appearance at trial, Peter, accused of knowing Jesus and being one of His confidants, denies that accusation not once but three times. We don’t know all that was going on here, nor do we know of protective counsel which the Savior may have given to His Apostles privately,12 but we do know Jesus was aware that even these precious ones would not stand with Him in the end, and He had warned Peter accordingly.13 Then, with the crowing of the cock, “the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord. . . . And [he] went out, and wept bitterly.”14
Thus, of divine necessity, the supporting circle around Jesus gets smaller and smaller and smaller, giving significance to Matthew’s words: “All the disciples [left] him, and fled.”15 Peter stayed near enough to be recognized and confronted. John stood at the foot of the cross with Jesus’s mother. Especially and always the blessed women in the Savior’s life stayed as close to Him as they could. But essentially His lonely journey back to His Father continued without comfort or companionship.
Now I speak very carefully, even reverently, of what may have been the most difficult moment in all of this solitary journey to Atonement. I speak of those final moments for which Jesus must have been prepared intellectually and physically but which He may not have fully anticipated emotionally and spiritually—that concluding descent into the paralyzing despair of divine withdrawal when He cries in ultimate loneliness, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”16
The loss of mortal support He had anticipated, but apparently He had not comprehended this. Had He not said to His disciples, “Behold, the hour . . . is now come, that ye shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave me alone: and yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me” and “The Father hath not left me alone; for I do always those things that please him”?17
With all the conviction of my soul I testify that He did please His Father perfectly and that a perfect Father did not forsake His Son in that hour. Indeed, it is my personal belief that in all of Christ’s mortal ministry the Father may never have been closer to His Son than in these agonizing final moments of suffering. Nevertheless, that the supreme sacrifice of His Son might be as complete as it was voluntary and solitary, the Father briefly withdrew from Jesus the comfort of His Spirit, the support of His personal presence. It was required; indeed it was central to the significance of the Atonement, that this perfect Son who had never spoken ill nor done wrong nor touched an unclean thing had to know how the rest of humankind—us, all of us—would feel when we did commit such sins. For His Atonement to be infinite and eternal, He had to feel what it was like to die not only physically but spiritually, to sense what it was like to have the divine Spirit withdraw, leaving one feeling totally, abjectly, hopelessly alone.
But Jesus held on. He pressed on. The goodness in Him allowed faith to triumph even in a state of complete anguish. The trust He lived by told Him in spite of His feelings that divine compassion is never absent, that God is always faithful, that He never flees nor fails us. When the uttermost farthing had then been paid, when Christ’s determination to be faithful was as obvious as it was utterly invincible, finally and mercifully, it was “finished.”18 Against all odds and with none to help or uphold Him, Jesus of Nazareth, the living Son of the living God, restored physical life where death had held sway and brought joyful, spiritual redemption out of sin, hellish darkness and despair. With faith in the God He knew was there, He could say in triumph, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”19
Brothers and sisters, one of the great consolations of this Easter season is that because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so. His solitary journey brought great company for our little version of that path—the merciful care of our Father in Heaven, the unfailing companionship of this Beloved Son, the consummate gift of the Holy Ghost, angels in heaven, family members on both sides of the veil, prophets and apostles, teachers, leaders, friends. All of these and more have been given as companions for our mortal journey because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the Restoration of His gospel. Trumpeted from the summit of Calvary is the truth that we will never be left alone nor unaided, even if sometimes we may feel that we are. Truly the Redeemer of us all said, “I will not leave you comfortless. [My Father and] I will come to you [and abide with you].”20
My other plea at Easter time is that these scenes of Christ’s lonely sacrifice, laced with moments of denial and abandonment and, at least once, outright betrayal, must never be reenacted by us. He has walked alone once. Now, may I ask that never again will He have to confront sin without our aid and assistance, that never again will He find only unresponsive onlookers when He sees you and me along His Via Dolorosa in our present day. As we approach this holy week—Passover Thursday with its Paschal Lamb, atoning Friday with its cross, Resurrection Sunday with its empty tomb—may we declare ourselves to be more fully disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, not in word only and not only in the flush of comfortable times but in deed and in courage and in faith, including when the path is lonely and when our cross is difficult to bear. This Easter week and always, may we stand by Jesus Christ “at all times and in all things, and in all places that [we] may be in, even until death,”21 for surely that is how He stood by us when it was unto death and when He had to stand entirely and utterly alone. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
NOTES
1. Isaiah 63:3, 5; see also D&C 76:107; 88:106; 133:50.
2. Matthew 26:65–66; see footnote 66b.
3. Luke 23:14.
4. Matthew 27:26.
5. See Bible Dictionary, “Barabbas,” 619.
6. Matthew 27:21.
7. Matthew 26:24.
8. Matthew 26:38.
9. See Luke 22:44; Mosiah 3:7; D&C 19:18.
10. Matthew 26:40.
11. Matthew 26:45.
12. See Spencer W. Kimball, Peter, My Brother, Brigham Young University Speeches of the Year (July 13, 1971), 5.
13. See Mark 14:27–31.
14. Luke 22:61–62.
15. Matthew 26:56.
16. Matthew 27:46; emphasis added.
17. John 16:32; 8:29.
18. See John 19:30.
19. Luke 23:46.
20. John 14:18; see also v. 23.
21. Mosiah 18:9.
Of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
Trumpeted from the summit of Calvary is the truth that we will never be left alone nor unaided, even if sometimes we may feel that we are.
Thank you, Sister Thompson, and thanks to the remarkable women of this Church. Brothers and sisters, my Easter-season message today is intended for everyone, but it is directed in a special way to those who are alone or feel alone or, worse yet, feel abandoned. These might include those longing to be married, those who have lost a spouse, and those who have lost—or have never been blessed with—children. Our empathy embraces wives forsaken by their husbands, husbands whose wives have walked away, and children bereft of one or the other of their parents—or both. This group can find within its broad circumference a soldier far from home, a missionary in those first weeks of homesickness, or a father out of work, afraid the fear in his eyes will be visible to his family. In short it can include all of us at various times in our lives.To all such, I speak of the loneliest journey ever made and the unending blessings it brought to all in the human family. I speak of the Savior’s solitary task of shouldering alone the burden of our salvation. Rightly He would say: “I have trodden the winepress alone; and of the people there was none with me. . . . I looked, and there was none to help; and I wondered that there was none to uphold [me].”1
As President Uchtdorf so beautifully noted earlier, we know from scripture that Jesus’s messianic arrival in Jerusalem on the Sunday preceding Passover, a day directly analogous to this very morning, was a great public moment. But eagerness to continue walking with Him would quickly begin to wane.
Soon enough He was arraigned before the Israelite leaders of the day—first Annas, the former high priest, then Caiaphas, the current high priest. In their rush to judgment these men and their councils declared their verdict quickly and angrily. “What further need have we of witnesses?” they cried. “He is [worthy] of death.”2
With that He was brought before the gentile rulers in the land. Herod Antipas, the tetrarch of Galilee, interrogated Him once, and Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor in Judea, did so twice, the second time declaring to the crowd, “I, having examined him before you, have found no fault in this man.”3 Then, in an act as unconscionable as it was illogical, Pilate “scourged Jesus, [and] delivered him to be crucified.”4 Pilate’s freshly washed hands could not have been more stained or more unclean.
Such ecclesiastical and political rejection became more personal when the citizenry in the street turned against Jesus as well. It is one of the ironies of history that sitting with Jesus in prison was a real blasphemer, a murderer and revolutionary known as Barabbas, a name or title in Aramaic meaning “son of the father.”5 Free to release one prisoner in the spirit of the Passover tradition, Pilate asked the people, “Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you?” They said, “Barabbas.”6 So one godless “son of the father” was set free while a truly divine Son of His Heavenly Father moved on to crucifixion.
This was also a telling time among those who knew Jesus more personally. The most difficult to understand in this group is Judas Iscariot. We know the divine plan required Jesus to be crucified, but it is wrenching to think that one of His special witnesses who sat at His feet, heard Him pray, watched Him heal, and felt His touch could betray Him and all that He was for 30 pieces of silver. Never in the history of this world has so little money purchased so much infamy. We are not the ones to judge Judas’s fate, but Jesus said of His betrayer, “Good [were it] for that man if he had not been born.”7
Of course others among the believers had their difficult moments as well. Following the Last Supper, Jesus left Peter, James, and John to wait while He ventured into the Garden of Gethsemane alone. Falling on His face in prayer, “sorrowful . . . unto death,”8 the record says, His sweat came as great drops of blood9 as He pled with the Father to let this crushing, brutal cup pass from Him. But, of course, it could not pass. Returning from such anguished prayer He found His three chief disciples asleep, prompting Him to ask, “Could ye not watch with me one hour?”10 So it happens two more times until on His third return He says compassionately, “Sleep on now, and take your rest,”11 though there would be no rest for Him.
Later, after Jesus’s arrest and appearance at trial, Peter, accused of knowing Jesus and being one of His confidants, denies that accusation not once but three times. We don’t know all that was going on here, nor do we know of protective counsel which the Savior may have given to His Apostles privately,12 but we do know Jesus was aware that even these precious ones would not stand with Him in the end, and He had warned Peter accordingly.13 Then, with the crowing of the cock, “the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord. . . . And [he] went out, and wept bitterly.”14
Thus, of divine necessity, the supporting circle around Jesus gets smaller and smaller and smaller, giving significance to Matthew’s words: “All the disciples [left] him, and fled.”15 Peter stayed near enough to be recognized and confronted. John stood at the foot of the cross with Jesus’s mother. Especially and always the blessed women in the Savior’s life stayed as close to Him as they could. But essentially His lonely journey back to His Father continued without comfort or companionship.
Now I speak very carefully, even reverently, of what may have been the most difficult moment in all of this solitary journey to Atonement. I speak of those final moments for which Jesus must have been prepared intellectually and physically but which He may not have fully anticipated emotionally and spiritually—that concluding descent into the paralyzing despair of divine withdrawal when He cries in ultimate loneliness, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”16
The loss of mortal support He had anticipated, but apparently He had not comprehended this. Had He not said to His disciples, “Behold, the hour . . . is now come, that ye shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave me alone: and yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me” and “The Father hath not left me alone; for I do always those things that please him”?17
With all the conviction of my soul I testify that He did please His Father perfectly and that a perfect Father did not forsake His Son in that hour. Indeed, it is my personal belief that in all of Christ’s mortal ministry the Father may never have been closer to His Son than in these agonizing final moments of suffering. Nevertheless, that the supreme sacrifice of His Son might be as complete as it was voluntary and solitary, the Father briefly withdrew from Jesus the comfort of His Spirit, the support of His personal presence. It was required; indeed it was central to the significance of the Atonement, that this perfect Son who had never spoken ill nor done wrong nor touched an unclean thing had to know how the rest of humankind—us, all of us—would feel when we did commit such sins. For His Atonement to be infinite and eternal, He had to feel what it was like to die not only physically but spiritually, to sense what it was like to have the divine Spirit withdraw, leaving one feeling totally, abjectly, hopelessly alone.
But Jesus held on. He pressed on. The goodness in Him allowed faith to triumph even in a state of complete anguish. The trust He lived by told Him in spite of His feelings that divine compassion is never absent, that God is always faithful, that He never flees nor fails us. When the uttermost farthing had then been paid, when Christ’s determination to be faithful was as obvious as it was utterly invincible, finally and mercifully, it was “finished.”18 Against all odds and with none to help or uphold Him, Jesus of Nazareth, the living Son of the living God, restored physical life where death had held sway and brought joyful, spiritual redemption out of sin, hellish darkness and despair. With faith in the God He knew was there, He could say in triumph, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”19
Brothers and sisters, one of the great consolations of this Easter season is that because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so. His solitary journey brought great company for our little version of that path—the merciful care of our Father in Heaven, the unfailing companionship of this Beloved Son, the consummate gift of the Holy Ghost, angels in heaven, family members on both sides of the veil, prophets and apostles, teachers, leaders, friends. All of these and more have been given as companions for our mortal journey because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the Restoration of His gospel. Trumpeted from the summit of Calvary is the truth that we will never be left alone nor unaided, even if sometimes we may feel that we are. Truly the Redeemer of us all said, “I will not leave you comfortless. [My Father and] I will come to you [and abide with you].”20
My other plea at Easter time is that these scenes of Christ’s lonely sacrifice, laced with moments of denial and abandonment and, at least once, outright betrayal, must never be reenacted by us. He has walked alone once. Now, may I ask that never again will He have to confront sin without our aid and assistance, that never again will He find only unresponsive onlookers when He sees you and me along His Via Dolorosa in our present day. As we approach this holy week—Passover Thursday with its Paschal Lamb, atoning Friday with its cross, Resurrection Sunday with its empty tomb—may we declare ourselves to be more fully disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, not in word only and not only in the flush of comfortable times but in deed and in courage and in faith, including when the path is lonely and when our cross is difficult to bear. This Easter week and always, may we stand by Jesus Christ “at all times and in all things, and in all places that [we] may be in, even until death,”21 for surely that is how He stood by us when it was unto death and when He had to stand entirely and utterly alone. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
NOTES
1. Isaiah 63:3, 5; see also D&C 76:107; 88:106; 133:50.
2. Matthew 26:65–66; see footnote 66b.
3. Luke 23:14.
4. Matthew 27:26.
5. See Bible Dictionary, “Barabbas,” 619.
6. Matthew 27:21.
7. Matthew 26:24.
8. Matthew 26:38.
9. See Luke 22:44; Mosiah 3:7; D&C 19:18.
10. Matthew 26:40.
11. Matthew 26:45.
12. See Spencer W. Kimball, Peter, My Brother, Brigham Young University Speeches of the Year (July 13, 1971), 5.
13. See Mark 14:27–31.
14. Luke 22:61–62.
15. Matthew 26:56.
16. Matthew 27:46; emphasis added.
17. John 16:32; 8:29.
18. See John 19:30.
19. Luke 23:46.
20. John 14:18; see also v. 23.
21. Mosiah 18:9.
Where Do I Go?
Warning: Ridiculous and disgusting amounts of profanity to follow. (When I get really mad, I swear. It's a bad habit. Alan thinks it's hilarious. If it offends you, I apologize. You've been warned.)
This fucking sucks. FUCKING SUCKS. The shit has hit the fan. We're talking one of those huge industrial strength carpet drying fans. Wall-to-wall carpeting. And a lot of shit. A whole lot of shit.
I think that I figured out how everything fell apart at once. Whoop-dee-fricking-do. This is about so much more that being a SAHM. I've been coasting along now, patting myself on the back for how well we've been doing. Alan's been working like a fucking madman (which is funny since he's a psychiatrist) and we've been fine. I never broke down when he was gone overnight 3 nights a week for a month. Even the 80 hours a week didn't break me. Great work, Em. You rock! (I'm an idiot.) Here's the rub: I wasn't thinking. I was just doing. I was living from minute to minute. I never thought about how much he was working. I never counted the days until we got a day off. I never counted the hours. I never thought about how much it sucked. I just kept going. That's how we survived. And it worked. Until I thought about it. Then me and my fucking monkeybrain decided to count how many hours Alan worked last week. After that, why not use that monkeybrain to count how many days straight he works. I am a fucking moron. Why couldn't I just keep doing? Why did I have to think about it?!
So that's the problem. It all caught up with me. All the hours. The hundred hour work weeks. You try--Look at this written out and imagine it's your husband's schedule:
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday (OVERNIGHT)
Sunday
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
SUNDAY OFF
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
SUNDAY OFF
And then it just keeps going like that. 6 days on, one day off (if we're lucky and don't have a black weekend). I don't know the call schedule, so that's not even included. Hours are too variable to say--Before we get up in the morning (ass crack of dawn) til after dinner in the evening. Call days are ACOD one day till 1PM the next day. That sucks, right? Am I wrong that this schedule blows chunks? I realize that I'm complaining. I'm bitching. I get it. I need to bitch. I'm fucking pissed about this damn schedule and I'm fucking sick of it. I'm going to bitch about it, damn it. Then I'll be done and hopefully feel a little better. Phhh.
I've hit my limit. I get that there are people who can just do this. Although after talking to a good friend in the same life situation, we have noticed that most of the people who seem fine didn't go through med school AND internship AND residency WITH their husbands and children. Of course there are exceptions. I wish I were one of them. There are women who seem happy all the time despite never seeing their husbands. We wonder if it's a facade--Or do they just not care about their husbands the way we do? Maybe their husbands are past this shithole intern year and actually see their families. Maybe they're just frigid bitches who don't care about anything. That was mean. Sorry. Anyways, my point is that I can't do this anymore. I can't be home alone all day every day and half the nights. I'm done. But the worst part is that I don't have a choice. It's not like Alan can just cut back on his hours. This doctor shit is fucking bullshit. FUCKING BULLSHIT. If you're thinking about going into medicine, GET OUT NOW. Even Alan (and a lot of the other residents--not just psychiatry) that he talks to will tell you it's not worth it. And that whole dream of marrying a doctor from the 50s or whatever? PSYCHOS!
So what do I do? Where do I go? Do I pull Nate from school and move home with my parents for the next 4 years until Alan's done with residency and fellowship? Do I email this lovely blog entry to his fucking boss and hope that he gets fired so that he can work at walmart? I think that the worst part of all of this, maybe even worse than the hours is the trapped feeling. We don't have a choice in any of this. He can't call in sick--He can't take time off. There are no sick days. Ironic, isn't it? No sick days for doctors. I am not angry at Alan for any of this. He feels just as awful about it as I do. SO WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO? I just want to scream. There's no solution. He can't come home and make it better. He can't come home at all.
I feel like suck a selfish bitch writing all of this. At least I have a husband! At least my husband has a job! Way to count those blessings, Em! I know how this must sound. But it's how I feel. And I have spent the entire afternoon balling my eyes out, so I had to get it out somehow. My kids are at my inlaw's house. After I got out of the shower crying and they saw me crying and they started crying, I realized that it was time for some help. Apparently I'm not doing as good a job at hiding my shitty mood as I thought I was. My poor kids. Now Nate and Abbie are paying for it. I'm not okay with that. I can deal my own disasters, but when it starts to effect my children, something has to change. But what to change? I'm so stuck. I honestly don't know what to do.
I just don't know what to do.
After re-reading this entry, I have several thoughts. The first is that I will probably alienate myself even more by posting this. I should probably go ahead and make the blog private. I've been thinking about it for a while and after posting something like this... Well, friends don't come around much as it is. Second, I'm sorry about all of the swearing. I hope that you can find it funny like Alan does. If you have virgin ears (Diana Dimond), sorry. I haven't always been Mormon... And lastly, despite how miserable everything seems, I am grateful for a lot of things in my life--Alan being the number one thing and my kids being two and three. I love them more than I could ever explain, and no matter how much I complain, I'm so glad that they're mine.
This fucking sucks. FUCKING SUCKS. The shit has hit the fan. We're talking one of those huge industrial strength carpet drying fans. Wall-to-wall carpeting. And a lot of shit. A whole lot of shit.
I think that I figured out how everything fell apart at once. Whoop-dee-fricking-do. This is about so much more that being a SAHM. I've been coasting along now, patting myself on the back for how well we've been doing. Alan's been working like a fucking madman (which is funny since he's a psychiatrist) and we've been fine. I never broke down when he was gone overnight 3 nights a week for a month. Even the 80 hours a week didn't break me. Great work, Em. You rock! (I'm an idiot.) Here's the rub: I wasn't thinking. I was just doing. I was living from minute to minute. I never thought about how much he was working. I never counted the days until we got a day off. I never counted the hours. I never thought about how much it sucked. I just kept going. That's how we survived. And it worked. Until I thought about it. Then me and my fucking monkeybrain decided to count how many hours Alan worked last week. After that, why not use that monkeybrain to count how many days straight he works. I am a fucking moron. Why couldn't I just keep doing? Why did I have to think about it?!
So that's the problem. It all caught up with me. All the hours. The hundred hour work weeks. You try--Look at this written out and imagine it's your husband's schedule:
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday (OVERNIGHT)
Sunday
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
SUNDAY OFF
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
SUNDAY OFF
And then it just keeps going like that. 6 days on, one day off (if we're lucky and don't have a black weekend). I don't know the call schedule, so that's not even included. Hours are too variable to say--Before we get up in the morning (ass crack of dawn) til after dinner in the evening. Call days are ACOD one day till 1PM the next day. That sucks, right? Am I wrong that this schedule blows chunks? I realize that I'm complaining. I'm bitching. I get it. I need to bitch. I'm fucking pissed about this damn schedule and I'm fucking sick of it. I'm going to bitch about it, damn it. Then I'll be done and hopefully feel a little better. Phhh.
I've hit my limit. I get that there are people who can just do this. Although after talking to a good friend in the same life situation, we have noticed that most of the people who seem fine didn't go through med school AND internship AND residency WITH their husbands and children. Of course there are exceptions. I wish I were one of them. There are women who seem happy all the time despite never seeing their husbands. We wonder if it's a facade--Or do they just not care about their husbands the way we do? Maybe their husbands are past this shithole intern year and actually see their families. Maybe they're just frigid bitches who don't care about anything. That was mean. Sorry. Anyways, my point is that I can't do this anymore. I can't be home alone all day every day and half the nights. I'm done. But the worst part is that I don't have a choice. It's not like Alan can just cut back on his hours. This doctor shit is fucking bullshit. FUCKING BULLSHIT. If you're thinking about going into medicine, GET OUT NOW. Even Alan (and a lot of the other residents--not just psychiatry) that he talks to will tell you it's not worth it. And that whole dream of marrying a doctor from the 50s or whatever? PSYCHOS!
So what do I do? Where do I go? Do I pull Nate from school and move home with my parents for the next 4 years until Alan's done with residency and fellowship? Do I email this lovely blog entry to his fucking boss and hope that he gets fired so that he can work at walmart? I think that the worst part of all of this, maybe even worse than the hours is the trapped feeling. We don't have a choice in any of this. He can't call in sick--He can't take time off. There are no sick days. Ironic, isn't it? No sick days for doctors. I am not angry at Alan for any of this. He feels just as awful about it as I do. SO WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO? I just want to scream. There's no solution. He can't come home and make it better. He can't come home at all.
I feel like suck a selfish bitch writing all of this. At least I have a husband! At least my husband has a job! Way to count those blessings, Em! I know how this must sound. But it's how I feel. And I have spent the entire afternoon balling my eyes out, so I had to get it out somehow. My kids are at my inlaw's house. After I got out of the shower crying and they saw me crying and they started crying, I realized that it was time for some help. Apparently I'm not doing as good a job at hiding my shitty mood as I thought I was. My poor kids. Now Nate and Abbie are paying for it. I'm not okay with that. I can deal my own disasters, but when it starts to effect my children, something has to change. But what to change? I'm so stuck. I honestly don't know what to do.
I just don't know what to do.
After re-reading this entry, I have several thoughts. The first is that I will probably alienate myself even more by posting this. I should probably go ahead and make the blog private. I've been thinking about it for a while and after posting something like this... Well, friends don't come around much as it is. Second, I'm sorry about all of the swearing. I hope that you can find it funny like Alan does. If you have virgin ears (Diana Dimond), sorry. I haven't always been Mormon... And lastly, despite how miserable everything seems, I am grateful for a lot of things in my life--Alan being the number one thing and my kids being two and three. I love them more than I could ever explain, and no matter how much I complain, I'm so glad that they're mine.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Check
Everybody needs a good cry every now and then, right?
Shower check
Nate to school check
Cry check
Life got the best of me this morning. This afternoon. Today. It got me good! I've known that it was coming, if I'm being completely honest with myself at least. I don't have anything to complain about--Life is good. I've actually been counting my blessings recently. Hallelujah! Right? I'm not going to say that things haven't been stressful. I can honestly say that Alan worked at least 100 hours last week. That's no exaggeration. He was gone at work at least 100 hours. That's a lot to handle right? I've been sick with some sort of cold, bronchitis crap for 5 weeks now. Abbie's got it too, along with double pink eye. Alan's got some weird stomach bug. We've all had fever. But honestly, life is good. Nobody is dying. Nobody is depressed. Things are good. Alan's job is secure--All 100 hours of it. :) So what's the problem? I'm asking myself the same thing!
MONOTONY. MONOTONY. MONOTONY.
Every day I get up and Alan is gone. The kids and I eat breakfast, we get Nate ready for school and drop him off. Abbie and I come home. I shower and get dressed. Lately, I stand in the shower until ALL of the hot water is gone--A time waster to be honest. Abbie reads or plays quietly or comes to ask me when I'm getting out, leaving the door open and letting all the hot air out with it. :) If it's warm, we walk the dog. Then if I'm lucky, it's 9 AM. Only 6 hours til we get to pick up Nate from school. There lies the problem. What the hell am I going to do for the next 6 hours? Every day is the same. Abbie is a homebody. She hates going anywhere. If it were up to her, we would sit at home all day every day. I have to leave the house for my sanity. Conflict! Recently, I have found my days dragging. By the time I get out of the shower, I really wonder what on earth we're going to do for the rest of the day. Do I try to save myself and get out of the house--Is it worth the crap the Abbie is going to lay down when I try to make her leave? Or do I resign myself to spending the next 10 hours until bedtime at home, knowing full well that I might have to take another shower to make it through the day?
I know it sounds horrible. I feel like a failure of a mother writing this. It's not that I don't love Abbie. There are moments every day that I love being home with her. Reading, playing outside, sidewalk chalk, imaginary play, her laughing, etc. We really do have fun. And the thought of being away from her all day or even a large part of the day makes my heart hurt, but I don't know if I can do this anymore! The day just goes so slowly. It's like torture sometimes. How awful of me to say, right? Being a SAHM is torture? Is that what I'm saying? Ugh! What am I saying?
All my life I've had a hard time following through with things. My parents have told me that I quit everything I start. The only I didn't quit was school--I finished that with a vengeance! And I didn't quit Alan. And I haven't quit my kids. So I'm a little sensitive about this. But I feel like I might need a change. Maybe I need a part time job. Maybe I just need to get Abbie involved in some classes. Maybe I just need some friends. I've never felt so lonely or isolated in my entire life. Alan says that all SAHM feel isolated, but I wonder if sometimes people just like being home. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who feels lonely. Nate had a dentist appt. this afternoon and I seriously couldn't wait to get to that appt. so that I could talk to an adult. I really feel like being home alone with a three year old all day isn't healthy for my head. Maybe it's fine for some people, but it's not for me. There, I said it. I just don't think that this is working for me. I don't know that a job is the answer. But something has to change. Maybe a class for me. Maybe regular playdates. Maybe regular outings. But it has to be scheduled. I think that's the key. Ugh. Who knows what the key is. Obviously I don't or I wouldn't have spent an hour crying today.
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Part of me wants to delete this post and run for the hills because I ever wrote it. I'm ashamed to admit these things about myself. But I'm going to post it. Honesty is what I'm supposed to be about. And the only reason I wouldn't post it is because I would worry about what people are thinking. Here's to not giving a rat's *#$...
Shower check
Nate to school check
Cry check
Life got the best of me this morning. This afternoon. Today. It got me good! I've known that it was coming, if I'm being completely honest with myself at least. I don't have anything to complain about--Life is good. I've actually been counting my blessings recently. Hallelujah! Right? I'm not going to say that things haven't been stressful. I can honestly say that Alan worked at least 100 hours last week. That's no exaggeration. He was gone at work at least 100 hours. That's a lot to handle right? I've been sick with some sort of cold, bronchitis crap for 5 weeks now. Abbie's got it too, along with double pink eye. Alan's got some weird stomach bug. We've all had fever. But honestly, life is good. Nobody is dying. Nobody is depressed. Things are good. Alan's job is secure--All 100 hours of it. :) So what's the problem? I'm asking myself the same thing!
MONOTONY. MONOTONY. MONOTONY.
Every day I get up and Alan is gone. The kids and I eat breakfast, we get Nate ready for school and drop him off. Abbie and I come home. I shower and get dressed. Lately, I stand in the shower until ALL of the hot water is gone--A time waster to be honest. Abbie reads or plays quietly or comes to ask me when I'm getting out, leaving the door open and letting all the hot air out with it. :) If it's warm, we walk the dog. Then if I'm lucky, it's 9 AM. Only 6 hours til we get to pick up Nate from school. There lies the problem. What the hell am I going to do for the next 6 hours? Every day is the same. Abbie is a homebody. She hates going anywhere. If it were up to her, we would sit at home all day every day. I have to leave the house for my sanity. Conflict! Recently, I have found my days dragging. By the time I get out of the shower, I really wonder what on earth we're going to do for the rest of the day. Do I try to save myself and get out of the house--Is it worth the crap the Abbie is going to lay down when I try to make her leave? Or do I resign myself to spending the next 10 hours until bedtime at home, knowing full well that I might have to take another shower to make it through the day?
I know it sounds horrible. I feel like a failure of a mother writing this. It's not that I don't love Abbie. There are moments every day that I love being home with her. Reading, playing outside, sidewalk chalk, imaginary play, her laughing, etc. We really do have fun. And the thought of being away from her all day or even a large part of the day makes my heart hurt, but I don't know if I can do this anymore! The day just goes so slowly. It's like torture sometimes. How awful of me to say, right? Being a SAHM is torture? Is that what I'm saying? Ugh! What am I saying?
All my life I've had a hard time following through with things. My parents have told me that I quit everything I start. The only I didn't quit was school--I finished that with a vengeance! And I didn't quit Alan. And I haven't quit my kids. So I'm a little sensitive about this. But I feel like I might need a change. Maybe I need a part time job. Maybe I just need to get Abbie involved in some classes. Maybe I just need some friends. I've never felt so lonely or isolated in my entire life. Alan says that all SAHM feel isolated, but I wonder if sometimes people just like being home. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who feels lonely. Nate had a dentist appt. this afternoon and I seriously couldn't wait to get to that appt. so that I could talk to an adult. I really feel like being home alone with a three year old all day isn't healthy for my head. Maybe it's fine for some people, but it's not for me. There, I said it. I just don't think that this is working for me. I don't know that a job is the answer. But something has to change. Maybe a class for me. Maybe regular playdates. Maybe regular outings. But it has to be scheduled. I think that's the key. Ugh. Who knows what the key is. Obviously I don't or I wouldn't have spent an hour crying today.
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Part of me wants to delete this post and run for the hills because I ever wrote it. I'm ashamed to admit these things about myself. But I'm going to post it. Honesty is what I'm supposed to be about. And the only reason I wouldn't post it is because I would worry about what people are thinking. Here's to not giving a rat's *#$...
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Nate Turns SIX
On April 14, Nate turned six years old. Crazy! I can't even believe that he's six. He has two loose teeth, plays on a soccer team, can read--It's unreal! Nate is such a special kid. Last week when Alan had to be on call multiple times in one week, he bought the kids a couple of little lego sets to play with. Nate is really good with legos, but Abbie needs a lot of help building hers, even though these were just tiny sets. Well, Nate helped Abbie build her set and then played with her for a little bit before he even built his. That's just how he is. He always thinks about others. He's good to the core. I have to remind myself that he is still a kid because he definitely does not act like a six year old should. I am so blessed to have Nate in my life. Happy birthday, Nate-Nate!
Diana's Wedding
I am completely ashamed to admit that I have no good pictures from this wedding. In fact, I don't have a single picture of Nate at all. It's a travesty because he looked so good in his little vest and did such a good job as the ring bearer (wedding #3). I don't have a good picture of Abbie's dress, which I did finish despite the kids splashing paint all over it. And the only picture I have of Alan and me makes us look drunk. Maybe we were. We left Madison at 5:30PM Friday evening and were home again by 10AM Sunday. So we didn't even spend a total of 36 hours in DC. Needless to say, the kids were tired. I was sick the entire trip. Nate fell out of bed the first night and got a fat lip. It was the longest short trip we've ever taken... But Diana got married--Yeah. Here's the photo evidence that we were there:
Diana and Justin at their reception on the Miss Cherry Blossom (a boat on the Potomac)
View from the boat
Alan can't handle his liquor nearly as well as I can
This prety much sums up the trip. Abbie freaked out cause she was getting hot in the car on the ride from the airport so she took off her shirt and then immediately fell asleep.
Diana and Justin at their reception on the Miss Cherry Blossom (a boat on the Potomac)
View from the boat
Alan can't handle his liquor nearly as well as I can
This prety much sums up the trip. Abbie freaked out cause she was getting hot in the car on the ride from the airport so she took off her shirt and then immediately fell asleep.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Motivation...Procrastination
I've been thinking a lot recently about purpose. Mainly, what is my purpose here? Sometimes (right now) I feel like I'm just floundering around, not really getting anywhere. I guess that I've always been a goal-oriented person. I function well under pressure. I thrived in college where there were tests and deadlines, etc. Being a nurse was good too because, well, babies come when babies come! Shifts start and end at a set time. But this mothering and homemaking thing is hard! Everything is so open-ended. The days and nights (and then days again) blend into each other. Heck, the weeks and months blend into each other. So I guess I'm struggling to figure out how to motivate myself to do everything that I need/want to do when there's no real deadline. (Yes, I realize that this screams procrastinator.) My house will be shiny clean if we are having company over for dinner, but during the week when it's just Nate and Abbie and me at home--Pff! How do I fill my day with meaningful activities? What do I fill my day with? How do I make myself do these things when I don't technically "have to?"
Ramblings of the queen of procrastination. In college, I used to drive my roommate (and fellow nursing student) insane because I wouldn't study for tests until 4AM the morning of the test. I wouldn't start papers until 9PM the night before and then I would quit at 11, only to get up at 4 or 5 to finish. I struggle to do things when they don't absolutely have to be done. I know that this is not a good habit, but it's how I function. I wonder how I can learn to live this lifestyle around that lifestyle....
Ramblings of the queen of procrastination. In college, I used to drive my roommate (and fellow nursing student) insane because I wouldn't study for tests until 4AM the morning of the test. I wouldn't start papers until 9PM the night before and then I would quit at 11, only to get up at 4 or 5 to finish. I struggle to do things when they don't absolutely have to be done. I know that this is not a good habit, but it's how I function. I wonder how I can learn to live this lifestyle around that lifestyle....
Wandering Abbie
Abbie has a habit of getting out of her seat during mealtimes to wander around the house. I'm not sure why she does it, but she just can't seem to sit still while she eats. Tonight I finally strapped her into her booster seat at dinner. A for effort, Mom. A+ for effort, Abbie.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
There
40 pounds lost. 41 actually. I'm so glad that it's still coming off. I got new glasses and contacts as a reward for hitting that milestone.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Too Ironic
Comparisons are easily done
Once you've had a taste of perfection
Like an apple hanging from a tree
I picked the ripest one
I still got the seed
You said move on
Where do I go
I guess second best
Is all I will know
Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into your eyes
You're like an Indian summer
In the middle of winter
Like a hard candy
With a surprise center
How do I get better
Once I've had the best
You said there's
Tons of fish in the water
So the waters I will test
He kissed my lips
I taste your mouth
He pulled me in
I was disgusted with myself
Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into...
You're the best
And yes I do regret
How I could let myself
Let you go
Now the lesson's learned
I touched it I was burned
Oh I think you should know
Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into your eyes
Looking into your eyes
Looking into your eyes
Oh won't you walk through
And bust in the door
And take me away
Oh no more mistakes
Cause in your eyes I'd like to stay...
stay....
Katy Perry. I'm laughing out loud. I swear I don't go looking for these!
Ra, at least you'll get it right (my insanity and the irony)? Oh yeah, and this is totally TEAM EDWARD. Suck it, sister.
Once you've had a taste of perfection
Like an apple hanging from a tree
I picked the ripest one
I still got the seed
You said move on
Where do I go
I guess second best
Is all I will know
Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into your eyes
You're like an Indian summer
In the middle of winter
Like a hard candy
With a surprise center
How do I get better
Once I've had the best
You said there's
Tons of fish in the water
So the waters I will test
He kissed my lips
I taste your mouth
He pulled me in
I was disgusted with myself
Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into...
You're the best
And yes I do regret
How I could let myself
Let you go
Now the lesson's learned
I touched it I was burned
Oh I think you should know
Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into your eyes
Looking into your eyes
Looking into your eyes
Oh won't you walk through
And bust in the door
And take me away
Oh no more mistakes
Cause in your eyes I'd like to stay...
stay....
Katy Perry. I'm laughing out loud. I swear I don't go looking for these!
Ra, at least you'll get it right (my insanity and the irony)? Oh yeah, and this is totally TEAM EDWARD. Suck it, sister.
Kindergarten Concert
Yesterday afternoon, Nate's kindergarten class had a music concert. Here is some video from the last song that they performed. You can tell it's the last song because they NEVER stop moving. Wiggle wiggle wiggle! I was very impressed with their performance. They memorized a lot of lyrics and the kazoo playing was fantastic. :) Yeah, Nate!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
It's Time
After a while of not posting about it, it may appear that my Twilight addiction has finally begun to fade. Appear would be the key word in that sentence. Mwa-ha-ha. I have finally accepted it for what it is, though. I no longer regard this as an obsession. I am beyond that. This is an addiction. I asked Alan if he thought that I needed addiction counseling, but he insists that since the addiction is not having negative consequences in my life, I'm okay. I saw a t-shirt the other day that said, "Please feed me. My mom is reading Twilight again." Maybe we should ask Abbie and Nate about those negative consequences...
I've been trying to keep my Twi-thoughts to myself because I realize that I am definitely the most obsessed person that I know. In my honesty in motherhood post, I talked about screening what I write on my blog, but everybody said to just write whatever I want. So really, it's your fault that Twilight is reemerging here. I warned you...
I have never in my life been this obsessed with something. Seriously. Twilight permeates almost every thought that I have. It's completely ridiculous, actually. Here's a little insight into my madness--Today, I dropped our exersaucer off at a friend's house for her son to borrow. They live in Eagle Heights near Lake Mendota. It was a cloudy day and as I drove around the back by the lake, all I could think of was Bella cliff diving in La Push. Every single song I hear on the radio reminds me of Twilight.
Beyonce's Halo--JACOB!:
It's like I've been awakened
Every rule I had you breakin'
It's the risk that I'm takin'
I ain't never gonna shut you out
Hit me like a ray of sun
Burning through my darkest night
Kelly Clarkson's My Life Would Suck Without You--Edward and Bella-New Moon:
Guess this means you're sorry
You're standing at my door
Guess this means you take back
All you said before
Like how much you wanted
Anyone but me
Said you'd never come back
But here you are again
Cuz we belong together now, yea
Forever united here somehow, yea
You got a piece of me
And honestly
My life (my life) would suck (would suck) without you
Being with you is so dysfunctional
I really shouldn't miss you,
But I can't let you go,
Jason Mraz's Lucky--Isle Esme-Breaking Dawn:
And so I'm sailing through the sea
To an island where we'll meet
You'll hear the music fill the air
I'll put a flower in your hair
Though the breezes through trees
Move so pretty you're all I see
I think you get the picture. It's not just the little things. Our neighbor is a single dad from Oregon (Pacific NW, like Twilight), whose daughter goes to kindergarten with Nate. I had a dream that he was a vampire and now I can't quite talk to him the same. When it rains, I think it's a good day for Edward. The other day we were at the pharmacy drivethru at Walgreens and Alan said (in a very melodramatic voice), "Jacob is in the car next to us." I tried to tell him not to egg me on (see right there--I think about Bella craving eggs in Breaking Dawn) and to quit supporting my addiction. But he was emphatic that Jacob was in the backseat of the car next to us. Finally, I looked. There was this massive wolf-dog. Even my family feeds the obsession.
Okay. The first step is acknowledging that you have a problem, right? How's having read Twilight 12 times? New Moon 8 times? Eclipse 5 and Breaking Dawn 4? I told you it was bad. Really bad. The good news is that the new prophylactic medication that I started for my migraines is also very effective for alcohol addiction. I'm hoping it is just effective for addictions in general...
Some ridiculous youtube videos...
I've been trying to keep my Twi-thoughts to myself because I realize that I am definitely the most obsessed person that I know. In my honesty in motherhood post, I talked about screening what I write on my blog, but everybody said to just write whatever I want. So really, it's your fault that Twilight is reemerging here. I warned you...
I have never in my life been this obsessed with something. Seriously. Twilight permeates almost every thought that I have. It's completely ridiculous, actually. Here's a little insight into my madness--Today, I dropped our exersaucer off at a friend's house for her son to borrow. They live in Eagle Heights near Lake Mendota. It was a cloudy day and as I drove around the back by the lake, all I could think of was Bella cliff diving in La Push. Every single song I hear on the radio reminds me of Twilight.
Beyonce's Halo--JACOB!:
It's like I've been awakened
Every rule I had you breakin'
It's the risk that I'm takin'
I ain't never gonna shut you out
Hit me like a ray of sun
Burning through my darkest night
Kelly Clarkson's My Life Would Suck Without You--Edward and Bella-New Moon:
Guess this means you're sorry
You're standing at my door
Guess this means you take back
All you said before
Like how much you wanted
Anyone but me
Said you'd never come back
But here you are again
Cuz we belong together now, yea
Forever united here somehow, yea
You got a piece of me
And honestly
My life (my life) would suck (would suck) without you
Being with you is so dysfunctional
I really shouldn't miss you,
But I can't let you go,
Jason Mraz's Lucky--Isle Esme-Breaking Dawn:
And so I'm sailing through the sea
To an island where we'll meet
You'll hear the music fill the air
I'll put a flower in your hair
Though the breezes through trees
Move so pretty you're all I see
I think you get the picture. It's not just the little things. Our neighbor is a single dad from Oregon (Pacific NW, like Twilight), whose daughter goes to kindergarten with Nate. I had a dream that he was a vampire and now I can't quite talk to him the same. When it rains, I think it's a good day for Edward. The other day we were at the pharmacy drivethru at Walgreens and Alan said (in a very melodramatic voice), "Jacob is in the car next to us." I tried to tell him not to egg me on (see right there--I think about Bella craving eggs in Breaking Dawn) and to quit supporting my addiction. But he was emphatic that Jacob was in the backseat of the car next to us. Finally, I looked. There was this massive wolf-dog. Even my family feeds the obsession.
Okay. The first step is acknowledging that you have a problem, right? How's having read Twilight 12 times? New Moon 8 times? Eclipse 5 and Breaking Dawn 4? I told you it was bad. Really bad. The good news is that the new prophylactic medication that I started for my migraines is also very effective for alcohol addiction. I'm hoping it is just effective for addictions in general...
Some ridiculous youtube videos...
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Lucky
There's a new song out by Jason Mraz, featuring Colbie Caillat, called "Lucky." (Alan found it!) I love it. It makes me smile that smile that leaves your face hurting. I won't get all gushy, but I will say that it just makes me think of Alan and me. That's all--It's just us.
Do you hear me,
I'm talking to you
Across the water across the deep blue ocean
Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying
Boy I hear you in my dreams
I feel your whisper across the sea
I keep you with me in my heart
You make it easier when life gets hard
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
They don't know how long it takes
Waiting for a love like this
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss
I'll wait for you I promise you, I will
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
Lucky we're in love every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday
And so I'm sailing through the sea
To an island where we'll meet
You'll hear the music fill the air
I'll put a flower in your hair
Though the breezes through trees
Move so pretty you're all I see
As the world keeps spinning round
You hold me right here right now
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
I'm lucky we're in love every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday
*Hey Diana, can you get this one for your wedding reception? It's good for dancing!
*In the spirit of honesty and not painting false pictures, I will disclose that sometimes Alan stays up until ridiculous hours playing computer games and it makes me want to throw a brick at his head. (Is that better?) :)
Do you hear me,
I'm talking to you
Across the water across the deep blue ocean
Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying
Boy I hear you in my dreams
I feel your whisper across the sea
I keep you with me in my heart
You make it easier when life gets hard
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
They don't know how long it takes
Waiting for a love like this
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss
I'll wait for you I promise you, I will
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
Lucky we're in love every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday
And so I'm sailing through the sea
To an island where we'll meet
You'll hear the music fill the air
I'll put a flower in your hair
Though the breezes through trees
Move so pretty you're all I see
As the world keeps spinning round
You hold me right here right now
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
I'm lucky we're in love every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday
*Hey Diana, can you get this one for your wedding reception? It's good for dancing!
*In the spirit of honesty and not painting false pictures, I will disclose that sometimes Alan stays up until ridiculous hours playing computer games and it makes me want to throw a brick at his head. (Is that better?) :)
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
P.S.
I need to write a little something extra after my post from last night. First, thank you to all who have already commented. I guess people really do read my blog! :) Second, I meant no offense. I was not trying to single anybody out or criticize the way that others blog/journal/Facebook/talk/etc. I was speaking more to society. I so understand wanting to chronicle the good--Of course we want to look back and remember the happy times! That makes the most sense. While I hadn't thought of it, I really agree with Heather. Sometimes you just have to say things are okay because it will take too long to explain everything else. Sometimes you have to say things are okay because if you say that they're not, you might start to believe it and then you'll lose it. I get it. Also, Andrea, I agree with you that sometimes the facades that women put on are to help them cope. You're right--If we make it look like we are doing it all, then to some extent, we have to be doing something.
Last night was a vent. I know it was a little harsh. I know it was extreme. I'm always amazed at how my posts about motherhood bring commentors out of the rafters. :) I guess that it's an issue about which a lot of people feel strongly. Thanks again for the comments. I am always uplifted by hearing your stories and your sometimes different points of view.
Last night was a vent. I know it was a little harsh. I know it was extreme. I'm always amazed at how my posts about motherhood bring commentors out of the rafters. :) I guess that it's an issue about which a lot of people feel strongly. Thanks again for the comments. I am always uplifted by hearing your stories and your sometimes different points of view.
Monday, March 23, 2009
My Attempt To Bring Honesty To Motherhood
I've had too much time to think recently. I guess that's what 7PM bedtime for the kids and a husband who isn't home several nights a week will do for you. It's not necessarily a bad thing--It just is. I've been tossing a lot of ideas around in my head that range from grocery shopping to God to friends to grass. (I really do have too much time to think because I mean that I'm really thinking about grass, not just having passing thoughts about it.) I have a lot to write tonight (with Alan on call again), but I'm having trouble saying it. Part of that I can blame on a new daily medication that I started to quash my migraines--One of the most common side effects is difficulty with word recall. You know when you get a word on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't think of it--That's me, but for one word a sentence. Hopefully that improves. The other problem that I'm having is figuring out what is appropriate for my blog. Now this blog is the only journal I keep, as journal writing has always been a nightmare for me. So part of me thinks that I should just say whatever I want to say, but I also realize that absolutely anybody can read this (although sometimes I wonder if anybody does), so I should probably watch it a little bit. I guess that's where I'll start...
The caption of my blog is: My attempt to bring honesty to motherhood. Dishonesty is a pet peeve of mine. People who pretend to be something/someone they're not, people who act a certain way or say certain things because that's what they think other people want to hear--It drives me crazy. It just gets under my skin. Fake. Ugh. That being said, I think that mothers are some of the most dishonest people on earth. "Every day being home with my child is a joy." "I am so blessed to be able to spend every waking minute with my children." I know it's harsh, but I think it's bullshit. Temper tantrums, constantly runny noses, potty training, accidents, vomiting on everything. And not just the clearly not so fun stuff--Playing baby for 3 hours every day, having 12 tea parties a day, reading the same book over and over and over, not being able to pee or shower with the door closed, NEVER sleeping through the night, naptimes that don't let you leave the house, whining. I'll say it--It's not always joyful. I don't always feel blessed to stay home. Sometimes I wish I could work so that Alan could know what it's like to spend 14 hours straight with a 3 year old. Now don't get me wrong. I love my children. I even love that I am a stay at home mom. I enjoy motherhood. I wouldn't change it. But you will never catch me saying that it's all smiles and laughs and warm mommy moments. And here's where the honesty things comes in. I think that anybody who says it is is being dishonest.
But nobody's supposed to say that. We're not supposed to talk about how lonely it can be staying home all day every day without adult interaction. We're just supposed to smile and gush about how rewarding it is to watch our children day in and day out. Well here's my attempt at honesty. I'm just going to put it all out there.
*Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I think, "14 hours til bedtime."
*I enforce quiet time not because Abbie needs it anymore, but because I would crack without some time during the day for myself.
*I hate laundry. I seriously hate laundry. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I would rather wear old sweatpants than clean jeans.
*I get lonely during the day. Abbie is a great companion, but she's no adult. I miss having somebody to talk to. Sometimes my day crashes because I feel so lonely.
*I get sick of playing baby/princess/restaurant/etc. after about 10 minutes. Abbie could play for hours on end and sometimes we do, but after a while, it seems like the clock is moving half as fast as it should.
*I used to be a no-TV mom. Ha.
*What on earth is the point of cleaning a house when there are children living in it? They don't care what it looks like. Alan is never home anyways. Why do I bother?
*I have found myself yelling, "Stop yelling at me!" Seriously?
*Sometimes I get through my day in parts--If I can just make it till lunch. Then if I can just make it till we go get Nate. Then if I can just make it till dinner. Then if I can just make it till bedtime. Then if I can just make it till Alan comes home. Is that how we're supposed to be living?
*A lot of time, I exercise in the morning because it kills an hour so I don't have to figure out what else to do during that time.
*I take advantage of Abbie playing by herself. She'll play by make-believe by herself for extended periods and sometimes, even though I'm not really doing anything else, I'll just let her do it so that I can sit and read or check my email or get some cleaning done. I wonder how much it's healthy for her to play alone?
*Sometimes I feel like the only mom in the world who feels like this.
I used to care a lot about what other people thought about me. It really used to bother me when I knew somebody was talking about me or if I knew somebody didn't like something about me. I've pretty much gotten over that. Once I figured out that if people are talking behind my back, they are probably pretty crappy friends anyways, I gave up caring. If people don't want to like me for who I am, fine. I don't need them in my life anyways. It is a little scary, though, saying things like this. Our society does not encourage this kind of honesty. I am very aware that there will be people who think that I am an ungrateful complaining.... But I heard about two things today, both of which involved other mothers, and neither of which I will go into on this blog, that led me to write this post tonight. It was made very clear to me that this fallacy about motherhood needs to be axed. I have felt enough guilt over these feelings to know that they can eat you alive and if we could know that even one other mom feels like this, it might ease some of that guilt significantly.
So there we go. A journal entry of all journal entries. My attempt to bring honesty to motherhood.
The caption of my blog is: My attempt to bring honesty to motherhood. Dishonesty is a pet peeve of mine. People who pretend to be something/someone they're not, people who act a certain way or say certain things because that's what they think other people want to hear--It drives me crazy. It just gets under my skin. Fake. Ugh. That being said, I think that mothers are some of the most dishonest people on earth. "Every day being home with my child is a joy." "I am so blessed to be able to spend every waking minute with my children." I know it's harsh, but I think it's bullshit. Temper tantrums, constantly runny noses, potty training, accidents, vomiting on everything. And not just the clearly not so fun stuff--Playing baby for 3 hours every day, having 12 tea parties a day, reading the same book over and over and over, not being able to pee or shower with the door closed, NEVER sleeping through the night, naptimes that don't let you leave the house, whining. I'll say it--It's not always joyful. I don't always feel blessed to stay home. Sometimes I wish I could work so that Alan could know what it's like to spend 14 hours straight with a 3 year old. Now don't get me wrong. I love my children. I even love that I am a stay at home mom. I enjoy motherhood. I wouldn't change it. But you will never catch me saying that it's all smiles and laughs and warm mommy moments. And here's where the honesty things comes in. I think that anybody who says it is is being dishonest.
But nobody's supposed to say that. We're not supposed to talk about how lonely it can be staying home all day every day without adult interaction. We're just supposed to smile and gush about how rewarding it is to watch our children day in and day out. Well here's my attempt at honesty. I'm just going to put it all out there.
*Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I think, "14 hours til bedtime."
*I enforce quiet time not because Abbie needs it anymore, but because I would crack without some time during the day for myself.
*I hate laundry. I seriously hate laundry. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I would rather wear old sweatpants than clean jeans.
*I get lonely during the day. Abbie is a great companion, but she's no adult. I miss having somebody to talk to. Sometimes my day crashes because I feel so lonely.
*I get sick of playing baby/princess/restaurant/etc. after about 10 minutes. Abbie could play for hours on end and sometimes we do, but after a while, it seems like the clock is moving half as fast as it should.
*I used to be a no-TV mom. Ha.
*What on earth is the point of cleaning a house when there are children living in it? They don't care what it looks like. Alan is never home anyways. Why do I bother?
*I have found myself yelling, "Stop yelling at me!" Seriously?
*Sometimes I get through my day in parts--If I can just make it till lunch. Then if I can just make it till we go get Nate. Then if I can just make it till dinner. Then if I can just make it till bedtime. Then if I can just make it till Alan comes home. Is that how we're supposed to be living?
*A lot of time, I exercise in the morning because it kills an hour so I don't have to figure out what else to do during that time.
*I take advantage of Abbie playing by herself. She'll play by make-believe by herself for extended periods and sometimes, even though I'm not really doing anything else, I'll just let her do it so that I can sit and read or check my email or get some cleaning done. I wonder how much it's healthy for her to play alone?
*Sometimes I feel like the only mom in the world who feels like this.
I used to care a lot about what other people thought about me. It really used to bother me when I knew somebody was talking about me or if I knew somebody didn't like something about me. I've pretty much gotten over that. Once I figured out that if people are talking behind my back, they are probably pretty crappy friends anyways, I gave up caring. If people don't want to like me for who I am, fine. I don't need them in my life anyways. It is a little scary, though, saying things like this. Our society does not encourage this kind of honesty. I am very aware that there will be people who think that I am an ungrateful complaining.... But I heard about two things today, both of which involved other mothers, and neither of which I will go into on this blog, that led me to write this post tonight. It was made very clear to me that this fallacy about motherhood needs to be axed. I have felt enough guilt over these feelings to know that they can eat you alive and if we could know that even one other mom feels like this, it might ease some of that guilt significantly.
So there we go. A journal entry of all journal entries. My attempt to bring honesty to motherhood.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Two Years Alive
I thought I'd take a minute tonight, while Alan's on call and the kids are asleep, to write about tomorrow. (Because there won't be time tomorrow...)
Tomorrow marks a two year anniversary for me. It will be two years since I had my thoracotomy. In early March of 2007, I had some chest pain. I went to the ED at UW Hospital. I was diagnosed with Pneumonia, given Zithromax and sent home. Two days later, my chest pain was worse and I was having difficutly breathing. I decided to go to the Immediate Care by West Towne. The Dr. listened to my lungs and ordered a CXR. My O2 sat was in the low 80s. I was then told that my x-ray was the worst that anybody in the office had ever seen--I asked to see it and it really looked like my right lung was just missing. The Dr. told me that I needed to be admitted that night. I was really suprised--I don't know what I thought would happen, but hospitalization was not it. So off to Meriter I went. I had Group A Strep Pneumonia. I ended up with a loculated pleural effusion/empyema (basically puss outside my lung, but in my pleural space). I had a thoracotomy and decortication--A long incision was made in my 5th intercostal space (between my ribs) along my back and side. The surgeons broke 2 of my ribs and then cleaned out the crap on/around my lung.
This is my incision (duh), not too long after the surgery. You can barely see a few of the chest tubes under the bandage on my side. The tiny tube (looks like a wire) in the middle of my back is my epidrual.
The next 3 weeks are pretty much a blur. I remember bits and pieces. I remember the insertion of my first 2 chest tubes. Now I've had kidney stones, 2 babies, a thoracotomy and 2nd degree burns to my face, ear and neck from a cooking fire, but the chest tubes were hands down the most painful experience of my life. I can't even describe the pain, other than horrendous. I get shivers down my spine just remembering it. I remember the cardiothoracic surgeon coming in to explain the procedure to me and my mom. He got mad at me because I fell asleep while he was talking (I was competely drugged, hello?!)--He may have saved my life, but he was still a surgeon... I remember when they removed my epidural, a few days after the surgery and I was allowed to get up to walk. My family had to push a wheelchair with all of my chest tube drains next to me while I walked. I had 5 chest tubes--3 between ribs down my right side and 2 in my back. It took everything I had to walk from one end of the hallway to the other. I think we had a party when I made it around the entire unit. I remember a time when they were worried that it was TB and they told me the kids couldn't come to visit. That was heartbreaking. I remember coming home. I remember the pain that lasted for months. I remember getting my first blood transfusion. I remember the physical therapy that I had to do for months following the surgery/3 weeks in the hospital. I remember that they had to install grab bars and a bench in my shower because I wasn't strong enough to stand. I also remember that I had a positive Romberg when I got home. (Basically, I couldn't stand with my eyes closed without falling over.) I remember being grateful that I'm a nurse so that I could do my own antibiotic infusions through my PICC line at home. Alan and I could work together to change my dressing too. I remember my mom staying with me at the hospital every single night. I remember Alan trying to take care of the kids, the house and me all while doing his surgery rotation for med school. Surgery is notoriously the worst rotation of all of med school. Ironically, he was doing cardiothoracic surgery.
Looking back, I can't believe that this all happened to me. I had no idea at the time, probably because I was drugged for months, how sick I really was. I could have died. Looking at the facts (and the CT scans), I probably should have died. My survival is nothing short of a miracle--I would not have made it without Dr. Gilliam, my surgeon. I would not have made it without Dr. Fox, my infectious disease doctor. It seems like I should have something very profound to say--Something huge I learned from this event in my life. I think that I am still learning, though. If I ever question the devotion that a mother should show to her child, all I have to do is remember my mom sitting next to me all day and night for those 3 weeks. I will never wonder if my husband can do it all--He is a superhero. I will never worry that my children will go uncared for if something else were to happen because my inlaws cared for them unceasingly for months. I will never question the love, kindness and infrastructure of my church. Meals, childcare, cleaning, etc... It was all covered, for months. I must have needed a serious lesson in humility--Not only did I need help with my kids, home, etc. for a LONG time, I couldn't even shower by myself. I really had to let people help. I'm not very good at that. I'm definitely still learning lessons from all of this.
But I am alive, and I am so grateful that I am.
Tomorrow marks a two year anniversary for me. It will be two years since I had my thoracotomy. In early March of 2007, I had some chest pain. I went to the ED at UW Hospital. I was diagnosed with Pneumonia, given Zithromax and sent home. Two days later, my chest pain was worse and I was having difficutly breathing. I decided to go to the Immediate Care by West Towne. The Dr. listened to my lungs and ordered a CXR. My O2 sat was in the low 80s. I was then told that my x-ray was the worst that anybody in the office had ever seen--I asked to see it and it really looked like my right lung was just missing. The Dr. told me that I needed to be admitted that night. I was really suprised--I don't know what I thought would happen, but hospitalization was not it. So off to Meriter I went. I had Group A Strep Pneumonia. I ended up with a loculated pleural effusion/empyema (basically puss outside my lung, but in my pleural space). I had a thoracotomy and decortication--A long incision was made in my 5th intercostal space (between my ribs) along my back and side. The surgeons broke 2 of my ribs and then cleaned out the crap on/around my lung.
This is my incision (duh), not too long after the surgery. You can barely see a few of the chest tubes under the bandage on my side. The tiny tube (looks like a wire) in the middle of my back is my epidrual.Looking back, I can't believe that this all happened to me. I had no idea at the time, probably because I was drugged for months, how sick I really was. I could have died. Looking at the facts (and the CT scans), I probably should have died. My survival is nothing short of a miracle--I would not have made it without Dr. Gilliam, my surgeon. I would not have made it without Dr. Fox, my infectious disease doctor. It seems like I should have something very profound to say--Something huge I learned from this event in my life. I think that I am still learning, though. If I ever question the devotion that a mother should show to her child, all I have to do is remember my mom sitting next to me all day and night for those 3 weeks. I will never wonder if my husband can do it all--He is a superhero. I will never worry that my children will go uncared for if something else were to happen because my inlaws cared for them unceasingly for months. I will never question the love, kindness and infrastructure of my church. Meals, childcare, cleaning, etc... It was all covered, for months. I must have needed a serious lesson in humility--Not only did I need help with my kids, home, etc. for a LONG time, I couldn't even shower by myself. I really had to let people help. I'm not very good at that. I'm definitely still learning lessons from all of this.
But I am alive, and I am so grateful that I am.
Abbie Can Write!
During quiet time, Abbie was doing some coloring. Then she asked me, "Mama, how do I write Abbie?" I just spelled it for her: A-b-b-i-e. I didn't write it down--I didn't show her! Then I looked over and this is what she had written. Holy moly! Apparently Abbie can write and knows a lot more about her letters than I gave her credit for. Sometimes when Nate's doing his reading, Abbie chimes in with words. I just assumed that she was filling in common phrases or things she'd heard before, but now I'm starting to wonder... I'm a proud mommy today!
3 For Today
Alan has been on Q3 call for the last few weeks. Needless to say, he hasn't been home much or able to help out with the kids/house. After I went to sleep last night, he made a midnight run to the grocery store and I woke up to these beautiful spring blossoms on my table. Thanks, Love!
Spring cleaning is in full swing at our house. All of our dining room furniture came from my Grandma Urs, my dad's mom. I emptied all of the drawers in a huge buffet type thing--When I pulled up the paper to vacuum them out, I found this! It's a book about entertaining with china and sterling silverware. It shows how to set a table for each meal, tea, etc. I love it, especially because she marked the pages where her silver is pictured. It makes me smile and helps me remember what an amazing woman she was.
Nate's hair is awesome. What more is there to say?
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