Tuesday

It's Tuesday again. Tuesday is my Nemesis, my Groundhog Day.

Yes, this would be my toilet.

 

 

 

You see, my cleaning lady comes every Tuesday. Now, before you go thinking 'Kathy is too highfalutin' for me,' just know that I don't pay her very much. She's not that good. And I'm okay with that because 3.2 seconds after she walks out the door, someone spills their full glass of milk all over the kitchen floor or pees all over the bathroom wall or smudges up the glass on the front door with their fingerprints.

 

So each Tuesday, after she leaves, I inevitably have to use the toilet in the master bathroom at some point in the day. And each time I use it, I have to scoot the toilet paper keeper - thingy back up next to the toilet because she has scooted it all the way back in the corner.

 

Why is my toilet paper not on a toilet paper holder, you ask? Because the same little humans that mess up the house in 3.2 seconds managed to break it off the wall, that's why.

 

Anyway, each Tuesday, as I am sitting on the toilet and scooting the toilet paper back up next to me - again - I am thinking, 'It's Tuesday again? What did I do last week?'

 

In fact, I'm kind of feeling like my life lately has been this endless series of Tuesdays that leave me scratching my head and wondering what I am doing with my life.

 

One glance at my already full January calendar tells me what I've been spending most of my time on.

 

Everyone has their own color.

 

Sometimes I long for the early days when the boys were little, and we had nowhere to be. An outing for us was the grocery store or the library for story time. I never got bored because I always had someone to play with.

 

But my boys are growing up, and unlike the lazy days my older boys experienced, Baby E's schedule is determined by the older boys' or how many errands Mommy thinks she can run before nap time. That's just the life of a family, I guess.

 

Not that I mind (most days), but as the new year is beginning - ironically on a Tuesday - I can't help but reflect on one nagging thought: What the hell did I do last year?

 

And more importantly: What will I do this year?

 

No, this isn't going to be a New Year's Resolution post. I've done that before. And I think it's safe to tell you because we're all friends here - I didn't do any of those five things I said I was going to do, with the exception of writing more. In 2011, I posted 23 times. In 2012, I posted 116 times.

 

In April, I was asked to be part of a new website called Her View From Home, which highlights the many wonderful aspects of my home state, Nebraska. (No seriously, Nebraska rocks! It's a great place to live.) I am currently writing two family posts and one gluten-free post a month, which post on Wednesday mornings. Even if you live nowhere near Nebraska, I promise you, the site has something you will enjoy.

 

Lately, I have also been featured on other sites. Mamapedia was the first to post something of mine. I really wanted to see my own name on my daily e-mail from them. After submitting about eight times, I was ready to give up. I had a post that had gotten a good response from people, so I said 'What the hell - one more time.' And that's the one that did it. You always hear that many famous people were rejected several times before they found success. But, rejection sucks - for real. I guess my takeaway there is that the more I submit, the more likely someone will grab something they like.

 

I've had success on other sites, too, like The Huffington Post. From there, I have gained new followers for whom I'm so grateful. I may not have thousands of followers, but I know the ones who are here are here because they really want to be and want to hear what I have to say. And that's humbling, but also inspiring.

 

As far as those getting healthier and exercising goals - holy crap, you guys! This has not been a good year for that. I have neglected myself big time. That fact glared back at me a few times from pictures I saw of myself. Here I am on my 40th birthday:

Not bad, right?

Here is a professional photograph I had taken this summer that is now following me around the interwebs as my gravitar:

 

 

 

This picture is horrible! Holy moley, I look godawful! I think you can still see the old me in my smile and eyes, but the bags under my eyes and the bloated face tell onlookers what's been going on - way too much crappy food and way too little sleep. My mom keeps telling me, 'Well you are 42, you know.' Yes, thank you, Mom, I can count. I'm not denying aging, but looking the way I do in the second picture is preventable and - hopefully - fixable.

 

And there's the aging body. Yes, again, I'm in my 40's, metabolism is slowing down, blah, blah, blah. But friends, I have gained a serious amount of weight his year. Which obviously is not acceptable. I know I am probably never going to have my honeymoon, pre-baby bikini body back - like, ever - but, I did promise Hubby I would consider wearing a bikini on our tropical vacation later this year. Instead of airbrushed magazine models, I'm using me as inspiration.

 

 

I used to think I was fat. It was the thighs. I've always

had, er - ample - thighs.

 

 

 

We joined a new family-friendly gym, and I just have to go. Or do something at home most days. There's really no excuse. One of my sons is getting a little chubby, too. I feel like I've been setting a horrible example - failing as a mom. I need to do better.

 

So that's the thing. I need to do better. I know I can do better. I told someone today, I've had too many of those Why bother? moments this year. And I shouldn't have. Despite the fact that yes, I am still grieving the loss of my beautiful boy and I will be for the rest of my life, I do have the rest of my life ahead of me. And Hubby's and my sons. I want to be the best me I can be. I want to at least be trying harder.

 

We've heard all the sayings - Happy wife, happy life. - If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

 

Seriously, these are true. And the wife and mama hasn't been too happy for a while now. Really happy.

 

But you know what? I think I've finally come to a place where I know what makes me happy - what used to make me happy anyway. And all I can do is say I will try. No resolutions, no goals. Just maybe a few dreams in mind, maybe some things I want to do. I'm not going to spell them all out here. I'll keep them close to me for now, but I promise I will share if I meet with success.

 

I have spent way too much time this past year feeling sorry for myself, thinking nothing I do matters anyway. I know that is simply not true. It matters. I matter. I don't want to feel tired and hopeless. I want to feel invigorated and hopeful.

 

There are things I want to do.

 

All I can do is try.

 

It is Tuesday after all.

 

 

 

 

Do you have a New Year plan?

 



 

 





 

 



 

What I Learned on My Vacation

I'm back to my blog after about two weeks off. Two weeks away from social media. No blogging, no tweeting, no pinning, barely any commenting on other blogs. I needed a break. Things were getting to me. I was tired, physically and mentally.

I wrote this post, and then went on vacation to San Diego with my family. The perfect time to step away.

In my absence, I received all manner of comments ranging from empathy and understanding to speculation that I am depressed, still grieving, or really ill.

Well, it's nice to know people care.

The truth of the matter is that I am probably all of those things. I am a busy mom, trying to do too much and not taking care of myself.

The truth is that I am depressed - about Joey, about family "stuff", about myself and feeling like I'm in a sinking boat while my only oar floats away.

The truth is that I grieve for Joey every day, but so much harder some days than others.

The truth is my well-being is ill because it hasn't been attended to in a long time. My treadmill broke. I eat like crap. I'm tired, but I won't go to bed because of everything that's weighing on me.

I slept a lot on vacation. As I sat in our bungalow each night waiting for the boys to fall asleep, I'm sure Hubby was sitting outside with a glass of wine waiting for me to join him and look at the stars over the bay and listen to the water lapping against the sand.

But I was sleeping. Because I needed it.

I took two naps, too. Because I needed them.

I didn't bring my laptop, and I deleted a lot of blog posts that were e-mailed to me (I did read the ones from all my most favorite friends - AnnMarie, Steph, Meredith, Kimberly, JD, and a handful of others, but I just didn't comment). I didn't look at Twitter, and I barely checked Facebook.

And you know what?

Life went on.

Bloggers blogged, Tweeters tweeted, Pinners Pinned, Facebookers updated statuses.

And honestly, I really don't think I missed much.

What I didn't miss was having fun with my family at Legoland, watching the sheer exuberance of three little boys who ran screaming through the Mini-Land display to all of their favorite Star Wars scenes.

 



Or the fascination that all my boys - big and little - had with the fish pond at the resort.

 

 

 

Or watching all four boys have a total blast simply playing in the wet sand getting completely filthy.

 

 

 

Allowing myself to allow them to get completely filthy.

 

 

 

My mistake was thinking that things would change once I arrived back home. Thinking that I would have this magic change of heart or profound inspiration or strong motivation to eat tofu and run 6 miles every day.

 

Nope.

 

Monday morning greeted me with two appointments and no babysitter, and Monday afternoon slapped me with two activities and one little boy who didn't want to do either.

 

My treadmill was still broken, I had vacation laundry to do, I had a post to write for HVFH, and I fell back into my old pattern of staying up way too late at night and noshing on too many unhealthy foods.

 

I realized that there were things to be learned from a week away . . . and they weren't necessarily things I wanted to admit.

• No matter how much sleep I get or how many naps I take, I will always be tired.
• I like junk food; and if it's here, I will eat it.
• I am a night owl. I always have been. Old habits die hard.
• There is no laundry or toy fairy who visits your house when you are gone (oh, wait a minute . . . yes, there is. Her name is MOM!! Thanks Mom!).
• I logically cannot spend all of my time on social media. It is not my job. That's great that some people treat it like their job, but I just can't right now. And I can't let myself get upset about certain things not happening because I am not trying as hard as someone else.
• That pile of crap on my desk and all that junk in the "Lego" room is not going anywhere. I will get to it eventually.

Please tell me you have a room like this in your house, too.



I once heard that if you've crossed everything off your to-do list, that means you're dead. I think I am going to be around for a while.

 

As far as my writing goes . . .well, I'm not sure where it's going. What I do know, is that I need to take my own advice.

 

A young person whom I love very much and who has been very important to my family the past seven years, came to me for some advice. I told her one of my favorite pieces of life advice from one of my favorite people from my past.

 

My speech teacher in high school was Mary Kay Mueller. Today, she is an author, a motivational speaker, and life coach. She always had a smile on her face as she repeated to snotty, bored high school girls, "Happy people take risks."

 

Happy people take risks.

 

For 25 years I have been carrying this saying around - and telling other people this, too.

 

But not really living it.

 

You see, I'm scared of risk. With risk comes loss, and I've already lost too much. Loss hurts.

 

But without risk, you may never find happiness. No one was ever happy simply standing still. Content? Perhaps. But happy? No.

 

So yeah, I've got to take some risks. Recently, I applied for a paid blogger job and found out I was a finalist for the position. Wow, 'cause last year when I applied for this same job, I wasn't even considered.

 

I didn't end up getting the job; but I took a risk, and it made me happy.

 

So, going forward, I'm following the old school advice that Kit gave Vivian in Pretty Woman: Take care of you.

 

It seems so simple. Don't worry about anything else. If you take care of yourself, the rest will come. No comparisons, no beating myself up for something I am not. No gimmicks, no trying too hard. I am me, and I am unique. I am not anyone else and shouldn't try to be. I should just be the best me I am capable of being.

 

Without totally exhausting myself again, that is. ;)

 

 

What's the best piece of advice you've ever gotten? Did you follow it? How did it turn out?

 

 

It's Time for a Change in Direction

 

We were sitting in the pharmacy drive-thru. My head was half hanging out the window of the van, my eyes closed. I could hear the soft bing bongs and bleep bloops of the boys' video games.

 

I was tired. I felt myself drifting off, and then, "Can I help you?"

 

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Driving off with prescription in hand my fog continued. We were stopped at a red light when it dawned on me: I can't remember what clothes Joey was buried in.

 

I know they must have been green - his favorite color was green - but I can't remember exactly which ones. I know we didn't put shoes on him. The only shoes that fit his swollen feet were his tennis shoes, and I didn't think it was appropriate to bury him in tennis shoes. Besides, no one would see his feet anyway.

 

I searched my brain for the visual of Joey, but all I could remember was touching him in his coffin and feeling his cold, waxy face. I couldn't see what the shirt looked like, but I remember hearing crinkling when I touched it, like Joey had been wrapped in Press 'n Seal before he was dressed.

 

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I'm so tired I can't remember what I buried my son in.

 

I'm so tired I can't complete a task without getting distracted.

 

I'm so tired that my brain is having trouble thinking of the words my mouth wants to say.

 

I'm so tired I can't even be patient with my children.

 

I'm so tired I don't want to spend time with my husband.

 

I'm snapping and negative and yelling. And then I wonder why they talk to each other that way. I'm not too tired to realize they are learning it from me.

 

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I'm tired because my house is a mess. Papers are everywhere. Toys and clothes and junk we don't use anymore have piled up and a house that once seemed big is shrinking from too much stuff.

 

I had a baby a year ago. A year's worth of no time to organize, clean out, start fresh.

 

Now, I have made lists and planned my time and I know what I want to accomplish.

 

But it's not happening and I feel like I am chasing my tail.

 

Chasing it into the wee hours of the night.

 

Falling asleep in a chair.

 

School lunches unmade.

 

Dishes in the sink.

 

The pile of photographs from summer 2011 still sitting unlabeled on the dining room table.

 

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I'm heavier than I have ever been in my life. There is a least fifteen pounds of extra weight around my middle that has no business being there.

 

But I'm too tired to do anything about it.

 

And my treadmill broke and my gym membership expired.

 

My husband asked me if we were still married.

 

I need a girls' night out.

 

He wants a date.

 

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It's all swirling in my head along with the fact that I am doing nothing that I should be doing.

 

Sleeping.

 

Cardio.

 

Yoga.

 

Nourishing my body with healthy food.

 

Starting my novel.

 

Seeking out paid opportunities to write.

 

Spending time with my family before they are all grown up and gone.

 

What I am doing is getting lost. I'm getting lost along a path that I thought I knew. A path I didn't need a map for. A path that came out in a clearing.

 

But somewhere along the way I got distracted by the scenery, led off course to somewhere I thought I should be going.

 

I'm stumbling. I'm drained. I'm flailing. I'm failing.

 

I'm losing myself.

 

And now I need to find my way back.