I blow my wad too soon

You'd think I was a man writing about sexual problems.

But my problem has nothing to do with that.

Enthusiasm is great, and my general pattern is to be very enthusiastic about things I begin.  When I began my first "real" job at 21, I completed the 3-month training period in under a month.  I just plowed into the work and got good quickly.  Same thing could be said of my first years as a teacher....I like to think I was mostly stellar.  (My former co-workers can argue with this line of thinking, if they'd like.)

The downside of this trait is that I tire of things quickly too.  Being extremely gung-ho is simply not sustainable over the long-term.  One cannot continue to operate at this level forever.

Just like my other jobs, I think I've blown much of my mothering wad.

When I only had N, I was gung-ho.....overly gung-ho.  Deeply wounded when I had to be away from her.  Eager to engage with her almost constantly.

Now, two additional kids and almost 8 years later, I find myself easily distracted by my freelancing work.  I find myself spending time planning Girl Scout activities because it engages my mind in learning and educating others.  I religiously attend twice a week exercise class instead of doing music or exercise classes with my boys or taking them places to play as I did with N.

On the one hand I feel sorta guilty about this because I do not give as much of my focus to G and M as I did N.  I recognize that some of this is simply, "The way it is."  It would be impossible to give the boys as much of my time and focus as I did N.  Having three kids triples (at least) the amount of laundry, clean-up, food purchasing and preparation, etc.

I also recognize that it isn't always a good thing to devote so much attention to a child.  M, perhaps because he is the 3rd kid, is really good at occupying himself, and that is a great skill to have.

Finally, I recognize that after 8 years of doing anything, you get tired and bored and need to change things around....hence the freelancing and volunteering and exercise.  I know that working full-time would add more stress and be completely detrimental to me and my family, so I do what I am able to do to jazz things up for me without causing unbearable stress and still allowing my kids to be with me most of the time.

Lord knows, I am still very devoted to my boys.  We do playgroups and read together and snuggle and love on each other.  Based on how my boys act when I've been gone for awhile, they are truly "Momma's boys" who think I am the only one who can care for them properly.

I guess what I need to remember about myself is that maybe I'm not as gung-ho excited about stay-at-home mothering as I was 5+ years ago, but I don't give up.  I try to re-invent the days, switch things up to keep momma happy, and continue on with what I have committed to do.

And that isn't such a bad thing.  

The new turd 'round these parts

Today M screamed, cried, hollered "Mah-ee" (Mommy) and was a highly disagreeable little turd from the time I dropped G off for speech therapy until over an hour later when I went to pick G up and have his exit meeting (he has "graduated" from speech therapy with significant improvement in under a year----HURRAY!).

I ran into Target to pick up some photos I had developed, and the employee asked me if I had other shopping to do.  M was in his snowsuit, coat and hat, but had only his socks on because he had flung his boots off before I ever got him out of the car, and was flailing in front of the customer service counter whining and crying.  I looked down at him, looked up at her, and said, "No, I believe I am done." 

M is at that delightful stage where if I ask him if he wants something like a drink or his pacifier he yells, "NO!"  Since he has declined the item, I remove it which causes him to scream for whatever it is, as if he desperately needs it in order to survive.  But when I hand it back towards him, he says, "NO!"

This happens at least 4,000 times a day.

Like G at the same age, when he is completely pissed he bangs his head on the ground or on the wall and then runs over screaming even louder because it hurt.  

Lord only knows what sets him off but he has a maddening ability to just keep carrying on and on and on.  I thought for sure this morning he would eventually wear himself out and shut up but it was literally a full hour of screaming and fussing.  And, believe me, I was checking my watch....mostly because I had to pick up G from speech but also because I was waiting for the toddler torture to end.

It is hard to reconcile this raving maniac of a child with the sweet little one who asks me every night to sing him "Fiddle-I-Fee" (which he just calls "Fee") before I put him into his crib.  The one who adds all the animal sounds and then says, "Ock Bay-bee," which is his way of asking me to sing "Rock-a-Bye Baby."  The one who I hear at 5:00 in the morning going "HI-YAH" in his crib, apparently doing judo on the little Mickey Mouse stuffed animal that we keep in M's crib.

Given all the craziness that was G the last two years, I really don't know if I have it in me to handle this 2-year-old and eventual 3-year-old insanity.

Well, I guess I have no choice but to handle it, but it won't be graceful or pretty.  

The common denominator is me (also titled: I can't keep my mouth shut)

Whenever I hear of someone who has married more than 2 times I think to myself that the "problem" with the marriages is likely the person who has been married the most times---either that person is a pita or that person continues to not learn from his/her mistakes and keeps choosing marriage partners who really aren't well-suited to him or her.

When patterns repeat themselves over and over again, I look for the commonality between the patterns.  

It has just dawned on me that I am now the common denominator.

Lord knows I don't want to rehash all the sh*t that went down with two of my neighborhood friends in 2008. (See minefield and rant)

In both of those situations, I stood up and spoke out for something I believe in....my daughter and common sense.  And in both of those situations, I lost a friend, although the argument could be made that I wasn't truly friends with either of these women.  We were friendly because of a playgroup.  Being a parent sometimes puts you in close contact and "friends" with people you may or may not have been friends with of your own accord.

Moving along to this new situation.....

N has been in a Girl Scout troop since 2009.  I was due to deliver M in October of that year so I knew I wasn't up to leading, co-leading or doing much other than nursing a newborn and trying to keep my sanity intact since G was only two.  For the first year, my MIL took N to her troop meetings.

Once M got bigger and wasn't at my breast constantly, I started taking N to troop meetings, and I offered to help the troop leader as I could.

Over time I began to notice that the girls didn't seem to be working toward patches, and I felt and feel that this is part of the big fun of being a Girl Scout---setting a goal, doing neat activities and earning a patch to put on one's vest or sash.  There were also some issues with follow through---as in plans were discussed or made but nothing was ever actually accomplished.  For example, last summer the girls planted seeds with the intent of doing a community garden, but the troop leader never contacted any of us over the summer about actually planting the plants.  So the seeds sprouted, the plants grew for awhile and then all of us threw them out when they died.

Last year, two of the girls left the troop specifically because their mothers were sick of the disorganization of the troop meetings and that the troop wasn't doing anything to earn patches.  When I saw one of the moms a few weeks after they left at a school function she said, "You all don't know what you are missing.  This troop is so much better."

N very much likes the girls in her troop (one she has known and played with since preschool), so I didn't like the idea of abandoning the troop completely.  But I did ask the troop leader if I could plan some activities for the girls.

Since September I have been planning every single meeting for the troop.  In those few months the girls accomplished more than they did in all the months preceding (back to the late summer of 2009).

But I have been growing increasingly frustrated because when I'd ask how much money was in our account so I could plan some extra activities I was never given an answer.  In September I asked if we had registered the troop because I didn't remember filling out a form; this email got no response.  I felt like it was nearly impossible for me to be in the "know" for planning purposes if I'm not receiving emails about local Girl Scout events or getting answers to my questions.

The clincher came in the past 3 weeks when the troop leader "forgot" about selling Girl Scout cookies.  The girls still have not gotten the order forms---I've been taking orders and writing them on a copy I made of last year's order sheet.

So I called the local Girl Scout office thinking I could just go pick some up to bring to this week's meeting and I was told our troop wasn't registered.  (Despite my email which, to my way of thinking, should have served as a reminder way back in September.)

This is the proverbial straw.

To make a long story short, another troop mom (DV) and I will be trained this weekend with the intention of starting a new troop.

Last night I emailed the current troop leader to ask if I could take over the troop with DV as my co-leader.  In no way do I expect her to go for this, but if all 4 of the girls go to the new troop it leaves the current leader's daughter by herself.  And I think it really sucks for this girl to no longer have a troop just because of adult difficulties.

It sucks that something as innocuous as Girl Scouts can become such a stressful headache.  Such a drama.  It sucks that this has caused me to lose a friendly acquaintance.  She and I were certainly not best friends or even "real" friends, but it doesn't make anyone feel good to know someone wouldn't give them quarter.

This is now 3 burned bridges with me being the common denominator, and I have to wonder....what is it with me????

I know what it is with me....I don't let things go.  I don't back down.  I am too honest.  I always strive to be civil and polite, but I also say what I think.  And I blog, which further pisses off someone who was already pissed off at me (even though I never name names).

When I look back on the "Friendship Fallout of 2008," I don't regret saying or doing anything I did.  It's not in me to just let things go.  If it was, I would not be so well medicated.  I have truly reflected on these events far more than I perhaps should have.  I don't like people to dislike me, to have a bad opinion of me.

But the bigger truth is that I don't want to have a bad opinion of myself.  And sometimes not being honest and not doing what I feel is right and best would lessen my opinion of myself.

So I just deal with the fallout.  Have a few nights of poor sleep.  Blog about it.
And move on.

The Bobo Brothers

For Christmas, M received a bunch of Diego books.  Anyone who has read a Diego book knows that the Bobo Brothers often make an appearance.

The Bobo Brothers are monkeys that are always, always creating mischief of some sort such as bouncing on a half-broken branch on which a sloth is clinging in a windstorm.  They are merry and laughing and generally unaware that they are complete simian hellions.

As my boys get bigger, they are increasingly Bobo-like.

For the past two days, it has been nice enough after lunch for the three of us to go outside and play in the yard.  G and M have played in the sandbox, chased bubbles, pushed or rode their bikes down the driveway at breakneck speed, run around the arborvitae and swung on the swings.  Even though this freakishly warm weather for January makes me worry about the pending doom of global warming, hearing my boys' peals of laughter and camaraderie does my fretful heart good.  As exhausting as they are because they never.ever.stop.moving, I delight in their roughness in the great outside.

Last man standing

Saturday was a day of receiving sad news.  My uncle, my mother's brother, passed away.  He was 81 and had been in poor health for awhile.  My own bout with gestational diabetes certainly made me more aware of sugar and my eating habits, but hearing about Uncle B's 3 times a week dialysis scared the shit out of me. Diabetes is a scary, scary disease.

His death makes my mother the last of her siblings to remain living, which has to be a sad "honor" to have. She was one of 6 to survive childhood (an infant sibling died at around a month old).  Her oldest brother G died in the 1970s of a heart attack, I believe.  The brother J who was 3 years older than my mom died of esophageal cancer.  I'm not sure what the cause of her other brother J's death.  Her sister had dementia and had been in a nursing home for years.  And now Uncle B is gone.

Mom told me when she spoke to her nephew (who is only 18 months younger than her) about B's passing, he said, "Well you know what this means?" and mom replied, "Yes, that we're the next to go."  Apparently his thinking was that now my mom and he are the oldest living relatives in the family, but I got my positive thinking from someone....and it was obviously my mother.

While I am sad for B's wife and sons and grandchildren, I am also sad for my mother, and even for me.  Because time marches on and age catches up with us all.  Because loss is an integral part of life.  Because it is a reminder to me that somehow I am 3 someones' mother and almost 40, and my mother will be 74 this year.  Because one day I will lose my parents or my children or my spouse.

And that is a terrible benefit of being left standing.  

Does this mean I'm gonna die soon?

Today has been a day of all sorts of good news.  

This morning I learned that next Friday G will be having his last speech therapy session followed by his exit evaluation/meeting.  In less than a year, he has gone from a slobbery mush-mouth to an age-appropriate pretty articulate little kid.  

In N's folder was a note from her art teacher stating that N's artwork is being entered into a local (and pretty prominent) museum's art contest.  She was one of 5 students selected from all the second graders at her school.  

Wow!  Superb news!  Exciting!

To prove that OCD and generalized anxiety cannot be eliminated, only relieved, by antidepressants, I did have the thought, "Surely all this good news means I am gonna die soon because things cannot possibly be going so well without something horrible happening."  Old catastrophic thinking habits die hard.  I was able to swish it away with my great Jedi-Lexapro force, but the fact that it still reared its head is always a little disappointing.  I may feel cured, but I ain't and never will be.  

Of course the something horrible could just be the weather, which is freakishly warm for January and surely a sign of humanity's doom.  Most people enjoy the days of 65 degree temps in winter, but they set me into short panic spasms.  

Dammit, it's January.  We need some snow if for no other reason than to lull me into a false sense of security that global warming may not really be real (despite endless scientific studies showing it is).   

Somebody seems to be winning today's irrationality fight, and it's not the medicated side of my brain.  

I really didn't expect to be this busy

Being a mother is all about realizing how dumb I am.  How little I know even though I've been doing this gig for almost 8 years.

When I was pregnant with N and started looking for fabric for her nursery, I picked a cute yellow fabric with alphabet letters and animals.  I clearly remember thinking, "This should last until she is about 5 years old."


HARDY-HAR-HAR.

It lasted until she was almost 3 and decided that she was down with Disney Princesses.  I didn't realize how quickly children move from blathering blobs to small people with actual personalities and opinions.

And now, here I am again---realizing how little I know.

All of a sudden, our weeks are plum full of activities in the evenings.  Mondays nights are piano lessons for me and N.  Every other Wednesday night is Girl Scouts.  Every 3rd Wednesday evening I have my neighborhood board meeting.  Every 1st Thursday night is my book club.  The first Tuesday of every month is dinner at Papaw's house.  

This sounds very scattered until this week when we have piano lessons, Papaw's, my book club and an extra Girl Scout event on Friday night.

So something has to go, and it is book club, which on the one hand saddens me because this is "my" event, but it also relieves me because it is one less thing on my mental calendar.

I didn't expect that when I have an almost 8-year-old, a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old, my life would be so dang busy with activities.  G's preschool on Mondays and Tuesdays and speech class on Fridays.  M's playgroup on Wednesdays and G's playgroup on Thursdays.  My exercise classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I thought the kids would all be older, perhaps in middle school, when I would feel like I was constantly on the go, driving hither and yon, taking them to activities.

Of course some of this feeling of "What the hell is going on????" could be due to us having done absolutely nothing during the last two weeks of December.  I am off my game and slowly having to re-acclimate to the schedule, the routine.

Just as I'm being mindful of clutter and saying "no" to more tangible stuff, I am also going to have to be mindful of those occasions, like this week, when there are more things to do than what feels right.