There's 2 for Every 1

Bullying.  It's a constant worry of mine.  I don't ever want my kids to be on the receiving end of a bully.  Obviously I don't want my kids to be the bully either.

My daughter has had an issue in the past with a girl in the past.  The girl pulled away my daughter's friend and told my daughter she couldn't play with them.  Yes, my girl was hurt by this, but at the same time, she was able to move on.  I hate the term "popular", but at times it seems to fit.  If someone doesn't want to play with GG she finds another friend to play with.  And quick.  Older, younger, green, purple, boy girl - it doesn't matter.


Earlier this week, there were Talent Show auditions for the fourth and fifth graders at my kids' school.  I'm not sure why elementary kids need to "try out" for a talent show, but that's another story for another day.

This same day, I had a Macaroni Kid event to work at a local restaurant.  Since there is construction everywhere I turn, I wanted to make sure we left by a certain time to avoid being late.  Very unprofessional.

As we were waiting for my daughter to perform her dance routine with a friend, I asked when they were scheduled to go on.  I was told last.  Glancing at the clock, I asked GG to ask if she could perform a tad earlier in the line up.  She confidently walked into the gym to ask the teachers in charge.  When she returned to the hallway, I saw it.  Proof that for every 1 bully, there are at least 2 good kids.

GG walked out into the hallway, head down, and was instantly surrounded by every kid in the hallway.  Most were in fifth grade.  Some were in sixth grade, there helping younger siblings.  I didn't recognize any of those kids as her friends or siblings of her friends, but there they were, comforting my daughter.

GG said the teachers wouldn't listen to her.  She misunderstood me and thought we had to leave "right now". She wasn't going to be able to try out for the show.  I reassured her we still had plenty of time.  As I explained this, one boy explained that he plays an instrument.  Dance routines always try out before instruments.  Another girl, I believe from the middle school, came up and hugged my daughter.

Lately I have seen more and more kids being disrespectful to their friends as well as their parents.  I have seen kids clearly misbehaving in front of their parents, who do nothing to correct the poor behavior.  This group of kids, showing support and encouragement to a younger girl, made me forget all about that.  There were no parents around to encourage them to show their support.  There were no kids laughing or pointing at my daughter for crying.  There was no sense of competition that they would do better than a girl who was upset.  These kids were just there.  They were there for my daughter.

I wish I could personally thank all of those parents and let them know that there kid is proof that good kids far outnumber the bad.

Ready to wash my hands

Happy anniversary to Shell and Pour Your Heart Out!

Can you believe it's been two years?

Amazing!

Not that I have anything offensive to say today, mostly because I have calmed down a lot before I started typing this out.  I'm quite proud that I didn't drop any F-bombs, because they were surely flying out my mouth left and right earlier in the evening.  But offensive or not, as always, please be respectful.


I'm a busy lady, and for the most part, I love every minute of it. The highs, the lows, the in-betweens.  No matter what, at the end of the day, I feel accomplished.  I matter.  I made a difference to someone, somewhere.

But things are starting to change.  I no longer feel accomplished in certain aspects.  I no longer feel I make a difference.  I feel frustrated.  Fed up.  Ready to wash my hands of it all.

I have been involved in Girl Scout in one way or another for a few years now.  I am now in my second year of being a leader for my daughter's troop.  It's rewarding and frustrating, but it's been fun.  Until recently.  Once a month us leaders get together for meetings to plan events and catch up on what each troop has been doing.  At first I was gung-ho about volunteering more of my time at events.  If I couldn't physically be there, I would offer suggestions to help it be a success.

A few months ago we were planning our Valentine's Father/Daughter dance.  The participation was down compared to the previous year.  Being a publisher for my local Macaroni Kid, I offered to include the dance in our list of events.  As the dance grew closer I learned that participation had increased and the girls were given a larger room at the banquet hall as a result.  Was this because of my listing in the newsletter or a result of other leaders reaching out to troops in surrounding neighborhoods?  I do not know.  All of the thanks was given to the leader coordinating the event.  No thanks were given to those other leaders who helped spread the word.

Lack of appreciation makes me want to volunteer less of my time.  Right then I decided that I would focus more of my time on my own troop instead of the group as a whole.  Selfish?  Yes, but if little or no effort is made to individually thank those who go above and beyond, why bother?

Just I became accustomed to the level of volunteering I was willing to give, cookie sales came around.  Getting those delicious cookies to our area was a living nightmare!  That's a story for another time, but that should have given me a heads up that this whole process was also going to be a nightmare.

We all know how delicious Girl Scout cookies are.  What I can't figure out is why none of those who realize that live anywhere close to me.  Our troop has had great success the past two years with our sales.  We would hold booth sales to make extra profit and those also went well.  Silly us, we assumed this year would be the same.  It is not.  If you are friends with me on Facebook, I'm sure you have noticed me begging people to buy cookies.  We have not sold as many as expected and therefor might owe instead of receive a profit.

To say selling cookies this year has been stressful would be the understatement of the year.  I understand that there are only so many cookies close friends and family are willing to buy.  I don't expect them to go broke trying to help me and my co-leader out, but that won't stop me from bitching about my frustrations.  Which is exactly what I did to a family member.  Her response to my venting was "Lesson learned".

There was no lesson being taught so there was nothing for us to learn.  And really, why would you say that to someone frustrated beyond belief about the situation they are in?  It certainly won't help matters.  It will only make them worse.

Just as I was learning to manage any frustrations I had with Girl Scouts, these cookies came along and became the straw that is about to break my back.  I do not want to let anyone down, least of all my own daughter, but I cannot take much more of this.  My house is a nightmare.  I have barely spent any time with my kids.  I've been staying up later than I should trying to work with the hopes of making a buck or two.

I love being busy.  I love being involved in the lives of my kids and the community.  But I'm not sure how much I can take.


*For most of today,  I won't be around.  I will respond to comments and return visits, but I will need some time.  We are making a last ditch effort to get rid of these cookies.  I hope they all go into the hands of someone else and we can put an end to cookie sales for the year.  That would make the straw on my back feel not as heavy, but my frustrations will still be there.*

I am a hollow reed

Trouble blows through me like the wind.

A friend and I would say this all the time, but mostly when we were teenagers, standing in line for the newest roller coaster that was really fast and turned you upside down.

Being a hollow reed is a good motto to live by. When things get tough, stop and breathe. Relax and your troubles will flow out like the wind through that reed.

But lately things are different. My reed seems to be getting clogged. At times I'm not even sure a light breeze would flow through it.

Some days are fine, but others are not. On those bad days, I feel my world is closing in. One task is due this day, another is due that day. Homework needs checked, laundry needs done. Holy shit the kids need to back up out of my face because, oh my god, I need to find something nutritious for my family to eat for dinner!

A long, hot shower used to isolate me from it all and grant me the time I needed to refocus. That no longer works. My crochet projects that I wold work on every night to soothe my mind and calm my nerves - I am slowly losing the desire to finish any project I have started. This leads to nagging by a child if the project is for them. And that leads to more clenched knuckles and visions of red.

At first I thought it was adding a new job to my already full plate. It was a new task so naturally that must be the straw that's about to break my back. But it's not. I absolutely love my job as a Macaroni Kid publisher. I have an amazing group of women I can go to for support and my partner who started the newsletter for our area is nothing short of amazing. Like me, she knows the work that needs done. She also understands that having families can make those deadlines a bit more flexible.

Since it's not my new job, perhaps it is Girl Scouts that is starting to burn me out. With new books and new badges, it's a learning process for us all. The troop is small, but don't let those girls fool you. They can be quite trying. I'm not a big drinker, but something with an umbrella sounds very appealing after I return home from a meeting.

If it's not Girl Scouts, perhaps it's family things. I hate the house we live in, but it's anything but easy to just pick up and move. Paying for mistakes from our pasts is something we must do, and we are, but it is trying. The brakes squealed on the car yesterday. Does this mean we need to put off new glasses for me or replacing my computer for yet another month?

Are things as bad in reality as they are in my head? Probably not. But having too many things on my plate and constant dialogues running through my head reminding me what needs done makes it feel really bad.

I am stuck at a crossroads. I know I need to take a new path. One not riddled with anxiety. I also know I can't take everything on my plate with me down that path. But what needs to stay behind?

I need to find a way to let that breeze once again flow through my reed.

I understand, but stop

If nothing else, I have learned that after school pick-up is a great place to gather blogging material. And since I'm too nice of a person to actually say "Shut the fuck up" to some one's face, I turn to this lovely blog.

Dear mother of my daughter's friend,

I understand your frustrations. I went through the same thing last school year with my daughter. I know that you are not exaggerating when you say it took hours to rid your own daughter's hair of lice. And then you had to do the same with your 2 other children, also in school. It's a long process. It's gross. I understand where you are coming from. But I have to draw the line somewhere.

Yesterday you informed me that 2 of your 3 had lice again. Perhaps you didn't get it all on the first round or maybe the child your got it from wasn't properly treated. I'll never know. Marching up to me and saying you are not bringing your kids back to this "fucking school" until "every child has been fucking checked"- that is where I draw the line. There's frustrated (rightfully so) and inappropriate.

I guess you didn't notice that most of the elementary kids were running past you as you were dropping F-bombs left and right. Other parents waiting for their kids could also hear you. Not only could a child run home and drop the F-bomb for their parents, but you may very well have started a panic. Parents panicked and unnecessarily treated their kids earlier in the year. Hearing your rant is going to make this possible panic all that much worse.

I'm frustrated as well, and trust me, there will be hell raised if one of my children come home with lice, but right now, I am not the person you need to go off on. For the sake of avoiding mass hysteria, I really hope you take my advice and talk to the proper people, ie. not me. The principal, the school board, the superintendent, I don't care. Just not me.

Sincerely,

The mom of your daughter's friend who is fucking sick of bugs in the school, but can't do much beyond keeping them away from her own kids.

Check out Shell at Things I Can't Say for more info

How do I know?

It doesn't need to be said that, as parents, we will fight for our children. They are young, still learning. Often how they feel cannot be put into words. It is our job to make sure they succeed. It is our job to make them better when ill.

But how do we know when to fight and when to sit back and wait?


At 6, my son can give you all kinds of tips and tricks when playing Lego Pirates of the Caribbean.
Even though we are now on the same level. And I had to help him catch up to me.

He can name almost any construction vehicle, as well as explain what each one does.

He can draw a blueprint of something he wants to build and explain each step along the way.

What he cannot do is tell me why his head hurts.

Every so often, he complains of headaches after school. Sometimes he says they happen after gym or outside recess. But he cannot tell me why. He didn't fall. A friend didn't push him. He just has a headache.

At first I thought I should get his eyes checked. I know he will need glasses because, as of now, he is the only one without them in the family. But he shows no signs of needing them. He doesn't squint. His teacher hasn't mentioned him having trouble seeing the board from the back of the room. Hell, he can see things far away that I can't see and I wear glasses!


I want to fight for my child to find an answer, but I don't know where to start. Calling the doctor to say he has a headache seems a little silly. Some Tylenol and quiet time will clear that right up.

But what if there's more that I cannot see and he cannot tell me? Do I fight and risk sounding overprotective about something trivial? Or do I sit by and wait, hoping it's nothing?

How do I know?

It's not a competition

Worrying if I am doing the best for my children is a constant struggle of mine. I know I am not alone in this. Not a day goes by when I don't see another mom, online or off, struggling with her role as a mother.

Along with raising our children to the best of our abilities, part of motherhood is also supporting our fellow moms. When another mom is struggling, we rally together to offer our support. When another mom is bragging about her child's latest accomplishment, we join in her celebration.

What motherhood is not is a competition.


Earlier this week, my son, who is 6, made dinner. And I'm not talking peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I'm talking this...

Beef Stroganoff

Aside from cutting up and cooking the meat and onions, he cooked the rest of the meal. And it was delicious!

Of course I had to share. I posted to Facebook and I posted to Twitter. I expected one of two things - congratulations or nothing at all. What I did not expect was a woman warning me about a cooking disaster her daughter had. This is not the first time this woman has turned my proud moment into a disastrous moment about her daughter.

I brag about my children because I am proud of what they do. I do not need my joy crushed with warnings of what could happen. If you want to share a similar story with me about your child, by all means, please do so. I would honestly love to hear it. But your child is no better than mine. And mine are no better than yours.

I wish everyone would stop and think before they speak, tweet, or comment. It's about supporting, not competing.




Visit Shell for more PYHO links and come back on Friday if you want the recipe for this delicious stroganoff!

Thankful

Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful. Thankful is something you should be all year, but this time of year it is stressed. I have many things to be thankful for.

Even if they are a pain in my ass.


I am thankful for...


Mount Laundry

Not a day goes by where I don't have one pile or another of clothes to wash. But every time I trip over one of those piles or leave a trail of socks behind me as I walk down to the laundry room, I am reminded of how thankful I am we are able to all have clothes on our backs. Or the floor.


Skyscrapers of dishes in the sink

Or on the counter. My daughter and I share the responsibility of washing said dishes. If I'm not complaining about the lasagna that burned to the pan and won't come off, then I'm bribing her to actually wash them at a reasonable hour. No matter how much whining and crying I do over those dishes, I am reminded of thankful I am we are able to fill plates with food each and every night.


Children

Whether they are fighting or laughing, I know that they always have and always will love one another. I can't imagine my life without them. It is truly a miracle that the husband and I let them live this long created such beautiful creatures.



Creaky floors and leaky pipes

It is no secret that I hate this house. So many memories have been made here, but most days, it still doesn't feel like a home. Just a house. But no matter how I feel about this house of ours, I am always thankful that we have a roof over our heads.


Alarm clocks

Not a day goes by when I don't want to chuck them into the wall. Yes I said them. This chic loves her sleep! But since one of those alarms is on my phone, which I also love, I resist the urge to throw things at the butt crack of noon dawn. Instead of throwing, I remind myself that hearing my alarms every morning remind me that I am alive. And I am very thankful for that.


Coffee

Do I really need to explain this one?!


***********************

I am taking the remainder of this week off to enjoy a day of good food, followed by a long day of shopping. I hope everyone out there has a happy turkey day.


May you gobble til you wobble!

Safe, but at what cost?

My oldest recently turned 10, but even when she was a toddler, I knew I didn't want to be a parent like my dad was. Don't get me wrong, my father was a great man and a great parent, but we definitely had our moments. One thing him and I disagreed on was a certain friend of mine. Her and I formed our bond in third grade. As high school approached, she had numerous piercings and watched shows like 90210 and Melrose Place. He deemed her a bad influence.

I never wanted to be a parent like that where I told my children who they could or couldn't be friends with. In light of recent events, I fear this may have to happen.

A few Fridays ago, GG's friend called asking her to join her at a high school football game. It had been a while since the two girls hung out so I helped GG bundle up, shoved a few bills in her pocket, and sent her on her way. Little Dude was upset he couldn't join the girls. It had been a long day and I just wasn't up for dealing with the noise of the game along with the chilly Fall weather. I didn't realize until later in the evening that this game was the last of the season.

Little did I know that our high school football team would win that last game and make it the playoffs. The following Friday, GG's friend called once again inviting her to the game. Once again I bundled her up, shoved a few bills in her pocket, and sent her on her way.

Immediately after I turned to Little Dude and told him to bundle up as we were going to the game as well. When Little Dude and I arrived at the stadium, I asked him to pick a seat. We would try to find his sister, but that didn't mean we would sit with her and her friend. It's a struggle for me, but I am trying to give my daughter more independence.

We spotted GG and her friend a few sections over. We made our way over to let her know we were there. As I sat down, I began to look for her friend's father. I assumed he had gone to the concession stand for treats or hot chocolate. Perhaps he even went up the hill behind the bleachers where you are allowed to smoke. As the first quarter of the game came to a close, the friend's father had yet to show.

This was when I made the realization that he had dropped the two then 9 year old girls at the stadium by themselves. This was also the time I began to freak out.

We have been to our high school's football games in the past. It is a very family friendly environment and being a small community, most people know each other. Regardless, "you never know who is out there" and "it only takes a second" kept running through my head. Especially when the girls went off the play with friends behind the end zone where it's not as well lit. I know our team won the game and I did see some of the big plays, but for the most part I was keeping an eye on the girls.


I know this family has been through a lot over the past few years. This friend and her sister lost their mom to cancer. It is now just the girls and their dad. But that doesn't make it right to let them have free reign to do as they please, without the supervision of a responsible adult.

Sadly, because of other things I hear these girls are permitted to do, I don't feel that talking to their dad would make much of a difference. Right now I feel my only option is to limit where my daughter is allowed to go with her friend. My daughter, at 10, still sees the world as a perfect place. Yes, she knows there are bad people out there, but she has yet to understand how serious and how devastating it can be to run into those people.


I only want to keep her safe, but I do not like some of the decisions I have to make to ensure that.

The proof is on the paper

People tell me I am Super Mom.

I am not only a member of the PTA, but I attend each and every meeting. I volunteer my time at school functions. I am a Girl Scout leader. I make home made Halloween costumes. I crochet Christmas gifts. I do crafts with my kids. If I am not running here, I am running there. I have so much on plate, but seem to get it all done.

I can also pretend. I may appear to be Super Mom, but if you look closer, you will realize I am not.

My house is a mess. My list of unfinished projects is almost as long as those I have finished. I have a smile on my face, but I may not be truly happy. I yell at my children. Oh, how I yell.

My children could care less about the projects I have not finished. They could care less about the mess, which most often leas to the yelling. And the yelling they care about.


Sunday night. Just home from my in-laws and a mountain of things to do before the kids went to bed. My son didn't finish putting his toys away before we left, but now he was "too tired" to do it. My daughter needed to wash some of the dishes. I needed room in the kitchen to bake the following day. The dry skin on her elbow hurt and the soap only makes it worse.

I asked. I pleaded. I began to yell. They wouldn't have time to play with glow sticks in the tub if they didn't finish their chores.

Things were beginning to unravel, but they finally finished their jobs.

My son played in the tun while my daughter practiced her flute. But he finished his bath first. He quickly dressed and ran downstairs to pester her. Already being frustrated with her flute practice, she began to yell. I yelled at my son as I stormed up to the bathroom too prepare my daughter's bath.

All was calm while she played, but when the last drop of water drained from the tub, tempers flared again. I was tired. I had enough. I yelled and scolded for the things they have not done. Daily chores that are ignored. Too many toys taken out that take too long to put away.

"Why do I have to keep reminding you? Why do you make me yell? I am not happy! I am very disappointed!"

My children shuffled off to bed while I escaped to the couch, holding back tears. I heard what I said and I didn't like it. My children went to bed upset and I did not like it. I needed to apologize and let them know just how much I love them.

I returned to the steps and began to climb. As I reached the top step I realized it was not my children who had disappointed me. It was me who disappointed my children. The proof was sitting on the floor outside my son's room.

No Mom

Mom not alawde
(Mom not allowed)

This may very well be the hardest post I have written. I want to be the kind of mom my kids look back on as adults and think how great their childhood was. I try. I really do. But on this night I failed. Lately I feel like I fail more than I succeed. The proof is on the paper.

Can't You See?

I don't always understand those around me and the decisions they make, but I make it a point to learn, empathize, or hopefully begin to understand. Lately, I have run into more people that I care to count who can't seem to look past their noses. They assume I, and my loved ones, would do things the way they would. They assume that we will side with them and turn against flesh and blood. I do not understand those who can't see around themselves. No matter how hard I try, I don't think I ever will.


I will never understand my aunt's claims to be the victim. No matter what she says, she will never make me believe. She is not the victim. She is the controller. She is the one who drives people away. Playing victim to those too kind to tell her the truth will never be acceptable to me.


I will never understand those who think I can drop everything to cater to them. My family and I were invited to a wedding. My mother-in-law planned for months the outfits she would buy my children only to find out last minute they are not invited. Upon my mother-in-law's request, or demand depending on your point of view, we opted out of attending this wedding. Because of those I failed to mail back my RSVP. My MIL, who has been avoiding their calls out of hurt for a week, finally caved and picked up the phone. She explained to the bride's grandmother my family and I cannot go to the wedding because no one is available to watch our children. The grandmother asked if my mother could watch them for the night.

How lovely it would be to have my mother, or anyone, available at the drop of a hat so I can have a much needed night out with adults. But that is not my life and she shouldn't assume that it is.


I will never understand those who believe a charitable donation should only be given to a certain group of people.

My borough is small, yet at the elementary level, it is divided in two. My children's school tries every year to raise money for a local family in need. It is a game for the students. A game they greatly enjoy. And they are all made aware of what they are doing - helping those in need. The family we are helping this year lives on the other side of the borough. How crass of someone, a teacher, to say we should help a family on our side of the borough instead. To me, that is like saying we should only support troops overseas who come from our town.


Quite often I judge and I do so too fast. I keep those opinions to myself so I can open my ears, not my mouth. My judgements may be wrong, but I will never know unless I give the time to learn more about those around me. But no matter how hard I listen, some people I will never understand.

Mean girls

I worked in the child care field for many years, with numerous age groups. While the job can be extremely frustrating, it did not lessen my love for children. As it is with my own 2 children, I will always love them. But that doesn't mean I always have to like them.

Over the years I have learned that children, who are such little beings, can be mean. Very mean. Especially girls. This is something we are currently dealing with in my house.


My daughter is a little social butterfly. She will play with anyone and everyone. She has always been that way. Over the past year or so I have noticed cliques forming within her classmates. I knew it was a matter of time, but I had hoped she would be the girl that everyone likes. The girl who can float from clique to clique without upsetting anyone.

My hopes are nothing more that hope, slowing fading away.

Two girls that my daughter has played with for years are suddenly ignoring her, at least when the two girls in question are together. My daughter asks to be on their team for one activity or another. She asks to play with them at recess. Every time she asks, some excuse is made to not include her, if they don't completely ignore her all together.


At the tender age of 9, I've already had a talk with my daughter about what a real friend is. Still believing she can be friends with everyone, I know this will take some time to sink in. Because it will take time, I know there will be more heartaches.

I need my girl to understand that she is special. She is a good person with a big heart. Others who pick and choose when they can be friends are not worth her time. I don't care if she is the most popular girl in school. I don't care if she becomes head cheerleader. What I do care about is making sure she surrounds herself with true friends. Girls, and maybe boys, someday, who treat her right. Friends who aren't afraid to say they are her friend. Friends who will stick with her through thick and thin. Friends who will listen to her secrets and keep them close to their hearts.

Mean girls are a part of life's lessons. I know this is only the beginning. I hope my daughter realizes sooner rather than later that she can rise above that. She has good friends. True friends. She is too good of a person to be ignored.

A little consideration please

We all know what happens when we assume. Perhaps I am being an ass in this situation, but that doesn't mean I'm not upset.

Months ago, before summer, my mother-in-law informed me of an upcoming wedding. The husband's cousin was getting married in November. I'm not too familiar with his side of the family, but had every intention of attending. A few years prior we also attending this girl's sister's wedding. Our son didn't join us because he was still a teeny baby, but his older sister was with us.

Now that both of our kids are older and able to go to such events, my MIL was quite excited to buy them new outfits. A new dress for our daughter and an actual suit for our son. I was looking forward to seeing my little boy in a suit and later watching him cut it up on the dance floor.

My MIL and this girl's mother are close and talk quite often. This wedding has been the topic of their conversations for quite some time.

September 11th was the day of the bridal shower. I thought it was tacky, but not my decision to make. I went with my MIL and my daughter. My MIL even bought the bride-to-be a gift specifically from my daughter. We talked of some hassles that went into setting up the bridal shower, as well as conversations about the wedding itself.

Two weeks ago I finally received one of the fanciest wedding invitations I have ever seen. While looking over the RSVP card, I became confused. There were 3 options of what to choose for our main dinner course. I wasn't sure what to do when it came to the kids. Were they expected to eat one of those 3 options, or would there be child friendly meals at the reception?

I held off on filling out the card until I talked to my MIL. I was getting the impression our kids weren't invited to this wedding. My MIL called the bride's mom and asked her what I should do. The response we got - she didn't think children were invited to the wedding (even though there are children in the bridal party).

In all of the conversations my MIL had with the bride's mother, you think "no children allowed" would have been mentioned.

This wedding is on a Friday, at 5pm. Who am I going to find to babysit my kids since everyone I know works? But before I could even worry about that, my MIL told us to not even bother going to the wedding.

I should have assumed that not everyone wants children at their wedding and reception. However, this bride should also have taken into consideration how difficult it can be to find a babysitter on a weekday afternoon.

I'm relieved to not have to attend this wedding, especially since our daughter's birthday is the following day. But I'm upset that this little detail of no kids wasn't mentioned earlier than a month before the wedding.

Which way to turn?

When I first became a mom, I never thought of it as a difficult task.

I was 10 when my brother was born. I was old enough to help feed him and by 11 I could cloth diaper a baby like nobody's business. I was not required to do these things, but I did like to help. I was also old enough to remember the steps my parents took when my baby brother was sick.

A few years after he was born I began to babysit. Not only my brother, my other children in the neighborhood. After high school, I spent 2 summers working in day care. After college, I spent many more years working in day care full time.

These years of experience taught me how to care for children. Day care cannot prepare you for those middle of the night feedings, but I felt well prepared to handle the rest.

I was not one to call the doctor for every sniffle or fever. I may have called for advice, but I would not press for my child to be seen unless they still were not better after 2 days of over the counter medications. I panicked when my daughter had her first asthma attack, but having watched my brother go through similar experiences, I still knew what to do. Having my mom with me that day didn't hurt either.

My children are now older, and I still am not one to fuss over every little thing. I do not jump and run when they fall. I let them climb every slide at the playground, as well as the surrounding trees. I know what to do at home when my daughter has asthma issues. I also know when to call the doctor for her asthma.


I am not one to worry, but this is beginning to change.


For quite a few days, my son, who is 6, has been complaining of a belly ache. Mostly in the mornings before school. I have talked to him many times asking if something is going on at school. He can tell me and I won't be mad. I can't fix it if I don't know. His only reply is his belly hurts.

Since he has no other symptoms and is usually fine by the end of the day, unless I mention his tender belly, I send him to school. The papers he brings home are full of check marks and stars. He always tells me who he played with and sometimes, if I'm lucky, what he learned in class.

I thought about emailing his teacher or sending a note asking for a conference. My brother pulled this stunt on my mom more times than I can count. I don't want my child to not want to go to school.

The husband was out of town and perhaps that was related. I decided to keep an eye on my boy to see if his belly ache continues. But now he has another symptom to add to the list. His head.

When sitting in the back of the class, his head hurt when he touched it. I asked where. Behind his ear. Did he bump it? Did he fall? No, he answered.

Perhaps he needs glasses. I know that's inevitable. But why would his head hurt when he touched it?

I am at a loss. I don't know which way to turn. Do I talk with his teacher? Perhaps something in class is causing him grief. Do I call the doctor and hope they don't brush me away because of a silly belly ache?

Scrubbing desks

I have a secret.

One that I keep to myself
when away from immediate family.

I am not ashamed. In fact, I am quite proud.

I keep my secret to myself because of how it makes others feel.


My daughter is smart. Very smart. I am not saying this just because she is my daughter. I am not saying this so I can write a "my kid is better than yours" post. That's how she is.

She has always excelled in school. Homework has always been a breeze. A few teachers have told me she does things above her grade level.


I realize my daughter is different when I talk about these things to friends. Their child may struggle with certain subjects. Homework may take hours. I don't meant to compare our children. I don't mean to make them feel disappointed. But that is what happens.

Their child may get in trouble for not doing their work. My child gets in trouble for finishing her work too fast and drawing on her desk because she is bored.

I am incredibly proud of my daughter. I will continue to challenge her and push her to her full potential. I will try to work with her teacher so we can avoid future punishments.

But sometimes guilt makes me keep my proud secret to myself.

Jealousy

Jealousy is an ugly thing. It can also be a crushing thing. It crushes your spirit. It elicits fear. It can make you think ugly thoughts about people.

There is no one particular person that I am jealous of at the moment, but my husband keeps coming to mind. His professional career is really starting to take off. I am so unbelievably proud of him and I will continue to support him every step of the way, but I have to wonder. Why can't that be me?

I want my name to be out there. I want to be known for what I do. I want people to come to me for advice and direction.

I am a mom. I am very proud to be a mom and I love my children dearly. If someone has a parenting question, I will do my best to answer them. But there is more to me than just a mom.

Part of my feelings stem from blogging. You get what you give and while I am making an effort to give, I do have a life outside the computer. Those who are well known around the blogosphere and other social network sites have put a lot of time into getting their name out there. I respect that and they should be proud. I am trying to follow suit, but it is not easy. And I am not a patient person. Patience is a virtue I have yet to learn.

Blogging is not the only aspect of my life that brings out the jealous side of me. I am a crafter. Mostly crochet. I put a lot of work into what I create. A Lot! Someday I would love to be successful at selling what I create. I could go the Etsy route, but that can be a pain in the ass. I make things, I pay to post pictures of my creations, I promote, and wait. If nothing happens, I pay and promote again. I know it's not expensive, but how many time do I have to post before to really starts to feel like I'm losing money and it's no longer worth the effort?


When people ask what I do, I want to say something other than a SAHM. I am very thankful that I am able to be a SAHM, but I also want something that is just me. Something that I can showcase to the world and hope to get more than a "Good job" before they walk away.


I realize this sounds like just another woe is me post, and I suppose that it is. But I do have a plan. I am going to carve out some time for just me.

My midgets start back at school next week (thank god!). I have some major work to do on organizing this house (help!). Some of my time will also be spent volunteering at the school (wine, please?). In between that, I am going to get crafty and find a way to promote myself. I know it will take time, and I need to constantly remind myself of that, but I am going to find a way to make a go of this crafting thing that I am so passionate about.

So much to say - I feel like DMB

I love linking up with Shell's Pour You Heart Out. It's a safe place to say whatever I want without worrying about being judged or criticized. I may not link up every week, but the weeks where I do I always have a specific thing that I need to get off my chest. This week I just don't know where to start. It feels like there is so much going on. Too much.

I have a resale event coming up in 2 weeks and I really need to get my ass in gear with getting everything together. But I just don't have it in me. Because of certain policy changes, I swore I wasn't going to participate this time around. In the end I decided "just once more". I'm regretting that decision. The money I will get at the end isn't even motivating me at the moment.

Add the resale stuff to returning from vacation and having a to-do list not even 24 hours later and I may lose my mind. Not only do I have to unpack, but I have so much I want to get done around the house. School is starting in a few weeks so I have to get the kids ready for that. Our Girl Scout year will be starting soon as well and we have to plan that out. Phone calls to make, emails to reply to, doctor appointments to go to... I may go insane.

All of this is probably why I completely freaked out the other night over the sweater I am making. I have put in a good 4 hours on a certain section of it. Monday night I realized I completely screwed it up. Do I continue and hope I can make the proper adjustments? Or do I rip those 4 hours of work out and redo them? I ended up ripping out all of that section and starting doing it over. I admit I cried a few times over something so silly as a sweater.

I know I will get through this. At least I hope I can. I have so many other things to worry about. Yes, there's more than the freak out I just rambled about. I guess it's a good thing that I'm not some big shot blogger. I'm not sure I could handle the fame. Although sometimes I think I might not mind it so much.


I think I'm done rambling. For now anyway. If you made it this far, thanks.

If I tell you

For the past few PYHOs, Shell has talked about judging others, something I know I am guilty of. I think everyone is guilty of this and if you say you don't judge, you're lying. The only difference is, some are respectful enough to keep their thoughts to themselves.

I am not an expert, nor do I claim to know all of the answers to much of anything, but I do know what I believe. I believe that many of us judge in order to make ourselves feel better about our shortcomings.


I started this blog so I would have a place away from family where I could write about my own fears and shortcomings. I don't want to talk about my kids over here, but I still do. My kids are my safety net. I may feel alone in the moment, but I know other parents have had those days where all you do is scream because your children refuse to listen.

My kids are not the only part of who I am. I have fears and doubts. I have had experiences that still haunt me to this day. I have my own beliefs that I do not express when they may differ from yours. I could write about all of that here. Yet I don't.

I am afraid of being judged.


If I tell you my kids have had cookies for dinner, will you tell me I am a bad parent?


If I tell you some days I would rather crawl back into bed than play with my kids, will you tell me I'm just trying to get some attention?


If I tell you about the night I almost lost my husband, will you chastise me for not trying to prevent it?


If I tell you I'm not sure if there is a God, will you turn and walk away, or preach to me to prove your beliefs?


If I tell you 2 men or 2 women should be granted the same rights as me and my husband, will you shake your head in disgust and tell me how wrong that lifestyle is?



I may mention these things, but fear holds me back from taking it further. I have never received a negative comment, but I fear if I write more about my feelings and beliefs, I will have one. Or many. Or maybe none at all - do you not care or did I scare you away?


I constantly worry about myself and my family. I stand firm in what I believe, except for religion.

I also wear my heart on my sleeve.

I worry, even when I don't have to

A night out with friends. I am ready to go. I wave to my kids as we drive away.

I wonder what they will do while we are gone.


From the passenger window I watch the fields pass by as we head down the highway.

I wonder if my son is still watching the bulldozers digging up Grandma's street.


We stop at Subway for dinner. Five dollar footlongs for all!

I wonder if my kids are eating their pizza. It's not from our usual pizza shop.


We arrive at the concert site and quickly open our beers. We chat as we watch those around us stumble to the ground.

I worry about what my kids are doing. Are they fighting? Did someone fall? They are quite clumsy.


We make our way in to hear a favorite singer. The music is loud as we sing along.

I worry my kids are watching too much tv. Did they choose a show not allowed in our home?


The music is over. We find our way back to the car. Traffic was light in the direction we chose. The back roads are dark, but they have an advantage.

I worry that my kids are still awake. It is much past their bedtime, and they don't like the dark.


From the passenger window I watch the fields pass by as we head down the highway. The fields that were once covered in sun are now peppered with the gentle glow of fireflies.

I worry about my kids, but I know they are safe. They are surrounded by family and I by my friends. We will always be there to keep each other safe.






*to answer the question as to what my kids chose to watch- let's just say my 5 year old now knows the theme song for Cops!*

I don't like to lose

Competitions

I love them.

During football and hockey seasons, one can find me on my couch, head to toe team colors, eyes glued to the tv, and possibly profanities escaping my mouth.

During soccer season for the kids one can find me as close to the field as I am allowed, maybe more. Camera in hand, cheering my kids on.

Even though I'm not always very good, I often like to compete with myself. After all, apps in the Android Market Place were meant for me right?
hello 3 versions of Angry Birds!

I've also been known to compete with the husband. Tennis. On the Wii. Because I suck at it in real life.


What I do not like to compete with is the husband's job.

We have been married for over 9 years and I have competed with his jobs since the beginning. The first of those jobs called for early mornings and late nights. Quite often I would fall asleep before he even came home. That job, while it may have sucked, was our life line. With a new baby, I could not work. I couldn't ask him to change something that we desperately needed.

With his current job, he is aways on call. Something breaks? Here comes the husband to swoop in and fix it. However it is rarely an easy fix. Computers rarely cooperate when you need them to. The office hours are thankfully closer to 9-5. Actually 7-4. Even if I didn't take him to and from work, he would almost always be home for dinner. However, work does not stay at work. His smart phone is his lifeline and his computer could pass for our third child. The husband often babysits programs to make sure they continue to work.

He loves his job and I am so glad for that. Finding a job you love with good pay is not always easy to attain. As happy as I am for him, I do not always love his job. If it comes down to dinner out with the family or fixing something for work, work always wins.

I understand he has to do what he has to do. This job gets our bills paid. We are finally at a point financially where we can buy ourselves things we want, but may not necessarily need. Many good things for the husband, as well as me and the kids, have come from this job. And I hope there will be more in the future.

But I don't like that I have to compete with the job.

And I don't like to lose.

It is what it is and it's always there

Because I feel like something should go here before I jump right into what was a difficult post for me to write.....

From Shell - just a brief reminder that everyone linking is pouring their hearts out and we should all be respectful in our comments. ;)



Anxiety is a state of uneasiness or tension caused by apprehension of possible future misfortune, danger, etc; worry (via dictionary.com)


Anxiety is using a new recipe for dinner. Will they eat it? Is the recipe a keeper?


Anxiety is going out in public wearing clothes that fit, not baggy clothes you can hide in.


Anxiety is sending your accident prone son outside to play. It's only a matter of time before his bumps and bruises become true emergencies.


Anxiety is laying in bed listening to your daughter cough well into the night. Most illnesses trigger her asthma. It has been a long time since she has been admitted to the hospital. Will that other shoe finally drop?


Anxiety is getting in the car after the first big snow and hoping you can make it back home.


Anxiety is getting in the car to pick my husband up from work, knowing there will be traffic along the way. Will the cars behind me see that I am stopped or will I get hit again?


Anxiety is wondering where another child will fit. The husband has stated our two children are enough, yet he makes no effort to prevent a third from entering our lives. I am also partly to blame.


Anxiety is the lump in my throat, the rocks in my stomach, and the lack of words to express what I feel deep down inside.


Anxiety is thinking about what tomorrow will bring.


Anxiety is clicking publish.