Struggling Again. *sigh*

I'm having a rough time again, and I can't pinpoint why. So I retreat and hide and do stupid stuff that doesn't really solve anything, all the while pretending to the outside world that everything is just fine.

Ugh. Think I'll go to bed.

My morning "routine"

The topic of morning routines came up in conversation recently. I generally get up and ready before I take the girls to school, so that I can at least pretend to be ready for the day.
Realistically, however, as we wind toward the end of the school year, my morning looks like this:

6:40 Alarm goes off. Push snooze. Repeat every 7 minutes until Alana makes me get up or 7:10ish, whichever comes first.

Stumble into bathrobe and slippers, glasses are optional.

Wander bleary-eyed into the kitchen, wondering once again why I haven't taught the kids to have my coffee concoction ready and waiting.

Make coffee concoction. Sip nectar of the gods and wait for caffeine to penetrate the brain.

Remind children to wipe up milk, put away cereal, rinse their breakfast dishes and put away the milk. Wonder why I have to say the same. exact. thing. every. stinking. morning......

Stumble up the stairs and into the shower. Jump in and out of the water stream as it gets hot/cold because the children are rinsing their blasted dishes and/or brushing their teeth.

Get out of the shower, referee yet another "discussion" about who used which toothpaste when and where is it now?!

Insert contacts. Hopefully into the correct eyes.

Moisturize, anti-wrinkle, anti-dark circles (drink more coffee).......make up, lotion, hair....

Tell Tristan, like I do EVERY morning, to leave the paper neat and tidy, preferably NOT in a puddle of milk.

Ask Tristan if he's sure he'll be warm enough in just a sweatshirt. Ignore the rolled eyes.

Throw him out the door to his ride at 7:20.

No, Alana, I don't know where your shoes are.

No, Shannon, I haven't seen your jacket. If it were MY jacket it'd be tossed on the chair nearest the door hanging in the coat closet.

Remind Alana that she needs something other than gogurt, 3 wheat thins, butterscotch pudding and a CapriSun in her lunch. Make her a peanut butter sandwich, in spite of her adamant declarations that she will NOT eat it.

Drink more coffee. Wish I could mainline caffeine.

Put girls in the van around 8:20, give or take.

Stop van in driveway so Shannon/Alana can run back in to grab lunch/backpack/jacket/homework/science fair project/show-n-tell.

Drop girls at school at 8:30, give or take.

Remind them to look both ways before they cross the street. Love you, have a good day, *muah*

Return home. Drink more coffee.

Adrift

That's me. But first, I need to back up a bit. And I can already tell that this post will be a rambling mess, so bear with me.

Backing up.....Sunday's sermon was on John 21. Jesus has been resurrected, and he's appeared to the Disciples, but now he's gone again and they're a bit lost. It's been a rough week in Jerusalem, and it's still probably dangerous for anyone of Jesus' followers. The Disciples aren't sure what to do next. They've spent the last 3 years following Jesus, learning from him, and teaching about him, but now they're lost. They don't know what to do next. So, they return to what they do best; what they did before Jesus. They go fishing. They fish all night and don't catch anything. As morning comes, a stranger appears on the shore and tells them to cast their nets on the other side of the boat.

I don't know about you, but I'm not sure my reaction would've been theirs. These guys grew up in boats. Fishing was their livelihood. Truly, it was their life, and here's this unknown person saying "cast your nets on the other side." Dontcha think they would've thought of that already?! And yet, they do it. And the net is full to bursting. The Bible says there were 153 large fish, but the net does not break. (Side note: According to my minister, 153 is the number of known fish in the world at the time of Jesus, so there's symbolism there too). The stranger, of course, is Jesus, and he cooks breakfast for them on the shore of the lake. They are then sent out into the world to teach and preach.

The point of the sermon wasn't about fishing though. It was about how we perhaps need to things differently in our own lives; cast our nets on the other side of the boat.

A couple of days later, I was at a business meeting with my Creative Memories Consultant friends. A story came up about a dog. This dog LOVED to play fetch with a tennis ball. His owner would throw the ball, and the dog would bring it back, but the dog didn't want to give up the ball. Owner would eventually get the ball back and throw it again. And, of course, the ball would get pretty nasty. So the owner got out a new tennis ball and threw it. The dog went bounding after it, but when he found it, he had a problem.......he's still got that nasty ball in his mouth and he can't pick up the new ball! The dog has a choice to make. He can hang onto the familiar, well-used but worn-out ball, or he can drop it and pick up the shiny new tennis ball.

One of the morals of this story is that we often have to give up old habits, habits that have served us well in the past but aren't working so well now, in order to move on to new and better things.

These two stories, coming so close together, seem to be a message to me, but I'm not sure just what to do with that message. And here's where I'll get rambly...

In the Bible story, the disciples go back to what they do best, but then are told to do it in a new way. One lesson I'm hearing is that I need to go back to what I do best, but do it differently. That begs the question, what do I do best? And I really don't know the answer. There are glimmers of answers coming through, but perhaps because I've never felt truly *good* at anything, I'm rejecting all of them. So my own lack of self-confidence is getting in my way, and it's frustrating. I can't seem to see things clearly....the self-doubt and criticism is like a fog obscuring my way.

Another lesson I'm hearing loud and clear is that I need some new habits. I think I've known this for awhile, as I've felt stuck for a rather long time; stagnating and unsure of my future path. But I continue along my way, doing the same old thing, and waiting for some lightning bolt from heaven to tell me what to do next. Maybe this isn't a lightning bolt, but the message seems pretty clear.

Sorta. What habits do I need to change? What habits do I need to let go of so I can create new ones? Will just ANY new habit or activity bring about the change in my life that I'm seeking; the change that I'm sensing is right around the corner? Or does it have to be just the "right" habit/change? There's that perfectionism creeping in....if it's not the RIGHT habit, it won't work! Or is any change better than the stagnation I'm feeling now?

Then there's another lesson in the dog story. The silly dog won't even let go of the ball so it can be thrown again! The dog LOVES to chase and find the ball, but he won't let it go. Is he afraid that his owner won't throw it anymore? So he's got to cling to it with all his might? What about me? What am I holding on to? What am I clinging to that's preventing me from enjoying that same activity?

Told you....rambling.

This last 18 months has been really, really hard. Those of you who pay any attention to me at all are well aware of this. Tomorrow marks one year of gluten-free eating for Shannon. We've largely adjusted. I can scan an ingredient label like nobody's business, accepting or rejecting the product in a heartbeat! We've found suitable alternatives for most of Shannon's favorite foods. Some of them are expensive (her "granola" bars are $4 for a box of 6 and her crackers are $4.50 a box), but I'm grateful that we have the means to make it work. The other kids are sensitive to Shannon's needs, and careful about eating "forbidden favorites" around her. From what I can tell, she's accepted this lifestyle, though every now and then, she comments about missing one thing or another.

As a family, we're probably healthier. We don't eat out much. It's just too challenging and frustrating to find things she can eat. And, let's face it, I'm a bit of a paranoid control-freak about it. If I don't prepare it, how can I be *sure* it's safe for her? I imagine that will fade in time. It had better, because, at some point, the child will be on her own to manage all of this, unless I plan to go to college with her (hmmmmm........).

What I'm noticing, as I look back over the time since Tristan's diabetes diagnosis, is that I've lost that creative spark. I go through the motions with scrapbooks and sewing, but the spark just isn't there. I don't spend much time crafting, unless it's "scheduled," like my crops, or "tradition," like Easter dresses and grandma scrapbooks. I just don't feeeel like it. I don't feeeeel the inspiration that drives me down into the sewing room for hours at a time. Sometimes, there will be a bit of a nudge, but it's quickly shoved aside in favor of "more important" duties like laundry or cleaning out the pantry.

But those pursuits, including my writing, are an important part of me; a part of me that I'm losing. Or, more accurately, a part of me that I'm letting go. But I wonder if that's at the root of this uneasiness; this constant restless feeling. I just don't know. All of this is spinning around in my head and so very little of it makes sense.

We're so freaking busy right now, but I think I use that as an excuse. Wait, who am I kidding? I KNOW I use that as an excuse. And, of course, there's ALWAYS laundry to be done, meals to cook, cupboards to clean, walls to wash, closets to clean out, etc, etc, etc.

But I also KNOW that I MUST explore my creative outlets. Frequently. Or a part of me; perhaps even the best part of me, will die.

I can't let that happen.

Another anniversary

We passed another milestone this weekend.

Shannon's been diabetic for a year, since March 21, 2009.

It seems a little weird to think about it as we're still adjusting in many ways. Recently, we've had to adjust her insulin to carb ratio for various meals because her sugar was spiking at specific times during the day. But now, with the weather improving, she's become more active, and we had a devil of a time getting her blood sugar high enough last night so that she could go to bed! (It has to be above 100 before bed because blood sugar naturally drops during the night and diabetics don't have the 'reserve' sugar in the liver for the body to cover that drop).

Every now and then, it hits me once again that this craziness is my life....usually when I'm sweeping up used test strips or grousing at the kids for leaving their used needles around (while they each deny responsibility....some things never change!). It seems so surreal!

Other times, I'm amazed at just how much knowledge I've accumulated over the last year, particularly about gluten! Did you know, for instance, that most orange soda is made with malt and is therefore NOT gluten-free? Yeah, me neither, at least not a year ago! Meals out are a challenge, so we don't go out very often, which really isn't a bad thing. Mexican is usually okay, as long as she avoids flour tortillas. Asian is out because the most popular brand of soy sauce for restaurants is fermented with wheat (Kikkoman. LaChoy is safe). There are a couple of noodle restaurants that have gluten-free options (Old Spaghetti Factory and Noodles & Company). Who'da thunk that it would be the pasta joints that would be so accomodating?! I can't remember the last time I bought a can of condensed soup....they're ALL made with wheat starch or barley or something. That's been a big challenge for my cooking since many of my "old standbys" start with cream soup as the base. I've found decent substitutes for most of the casseroles, though.

I checked out more gluten-free cookbooks from the library and I've put a hold on a couple of others, trying to find more recipes to draw from for baked goods. Today I'm going to make a batch of GF chocolate chip cookies, and I need to make a loaf of GF bread for lunches too. I haven't decided if I'm going to try a new recipe or go with the standby. Maybe I'll try the new one and if Shannon doesn't like it, I can make her regular loaf this evening?

It's been a challenge, and it's stretched me in ways I did not want to be stretched. As a mother, it breaks my heart to see my children suffer. I'd take it on myself, in a heartbeat, if I were given the choice. That's been an amazing lesson for me, and for the kids. I know they sometimes think Mom is an idiot, but they know deep down just how much I love them. This has brought us closer as a family, as we work together to manage the challenges that come up. I think, too, it's shown the children just how strong they can be. They're learning to make choices that will impact both their short-term and long-term health, and I hope that those lessons will carry over to other areas of their lives. They're learning to deal with some pretty heavy emotions. They're learning that they are not alone, as our family, friends, and neighbors encourage and support them.

These are all great lessons, but I can't help but wish they were learning them another way.

I need a little push to start journaling or blogging again, and I think there are things I need to discover about myself, but I’m not entirely sure what they are. So, I’m shamelessly stealing from a “guided journal” I bought. Well, I guess, since I bought it, it’s not stealing is it? Though I am inviting you, my 3 dear readers, to steal it and blog or journal yourself, so…..

Anyway, the book is called "The Woman’s Book of Confidence," by Sue Patton Thoele. From the inside front cover “Let us not wait until tomorrow—or eternity—to accept who we are. Let’s do it right now.”

And that’s the journey I’m on. I’m not the person I thought I would be when I imagined my life (who is?), and really, when I take off the “Mom” and “Wife” hats, I’m not entirely sure what’s left. There’s some good stuff there, for sure, and I want to delve deeper into that. As my kids get older and don’t need me for every little thing; as they enter school and are gone for hours at a time, I find myself with that time on my hands, and I wander a bit aimlessly. Sure, there’s laundry to do (always and forever….seriously, I can’t ever die because the laundry will NEVER be done…..I digress), bathrooms to clean, floors to mop and vacuum, walls and windows to wash, and so forth, but I just have the feeling that there’s something more to my life; something more I’m meant to be doing. Or maybe I’m just bored out of my head with the minutiae that occupies my days. Either which way, there’s more for me out there and I want to find it!

Another quote from the inside front cover “Use these pages to record your inspirations, your motivations, your victories, even your failures. Learn to love the skip of your own step, to gain confidence in the words that only you can hear. Learn to be the best you can be, right now”

The first section or chapter is titled “Reclaiming Childhood Dreams.” The introduction says, in part, “Many of the hopes, desires, and dreams we had as children were indicators fo the special gifts we brought into this life. If we have lost track of our dreams, we can reconnect with them now by encouraging ourselves to look back and explore them.”

Question 1: What make-believe did you revel in when you were little? Where did you go in your fantasy world?

It’s been fun to ponder this question. I remember pretending to be a princess, but not very often. The most vibrant and active make-believe took place in The Old West, probably inspired by watching “Little House on the Prairie” all the time. I loved that show (still do, much to my husband’s amusement). My sister and I would pretend we were settlers on the plains, harvesting grasses and the like, fashioning tools from sticks and vases or dishes from mud. We were attacked by fierce mountain lions, battled raging wildfires, and battening down the hatches in the face of tornadoes. Or, we’d hang out on my double bed, pretending it was a covered wagon headed west. Sometimes the bed became a ship, used to escape mean and nasty step-parents under cover of darkness.

What stands out to me in these memories is the sense of independence, and, too, the sense of being alone in the world with no one to protect us. Of course, we were pretending to BE adults, so maybe that’s where that comes from. Or maybe that’s what I perceived adulthood to be about, independent and alone? Hmmm…..must ponder that one some more. I often felt a sense of accomplishment, going about my “chores” in that little house out west. It felt good to be taking care of my imaginary kids (sometimes played by neighbor children). I remember thinking that the pioneer life was so. Much. WORK! LOL! And I suppose it was.

Rest In Peace, sweet Ginger

I had to make the decision today to put Alana's guinea pig to sleep. The vet said she was critical and gave her less than a 50/50 chance. She said that these 'prey' animals tend to just roll over and give up when they get sick and really, that's what Ginger was doing.

Shannon's devastated. I hated having to be the one to make the choice, but when I asked the vet what she would do, she said she'd put her down. It just all came on so suddenly. Sunday she was fine, held and loved by the girls. Yesterday afternoon, she was lethargic and today she was almost non-responsive, not eating, not drinking, the works.

Thing is, she was a YOUNG pig, less than a year old and it seems like such a shame. I had pigs as a kid that lived for years and years, no health problems, nothing. The vet says they're just not as hardy as they used to be; too much inbreeding.

Shannon's home sick today, so she's sipping cocoa and crying. Alana will find out when she gets home from school. Don't know if I should clean up the cage and everything and put it all away or if it would be good for Alana to help me with that.

*sigh* Adulthood really sucks sometimes!

And all of this happens just as I'm vowing to stop whining and complaining on my blog! Really, I stood there the vet's office, trying to decide what to do, knowing in my heart that the treatment plan she was proposing would not work and we were going to lose her no matter what, but not quite wanting to admit it. I thought I was prepared to lose her, but when the time came to decide, that was really, really hard. I found myself wondering why *I* was in charge of this. Well, because I'm the mom, that's why. But, wait, when did I become the responsible grown-up? Is there a way to undo that? Because, at times like this, I really really really want someone else to be in charge.

Shannon is pretty upset, and that, in turn, upsets me. Ginger was a sweet animal. Inquisitive and fun to have. She loved brocolli, even though it really wasn't good for her, so we limited what she'd eat. She was okay on carrots, but spinach and parsley were favorites too.

Alana's not home from school yet, but I think she'll handle this better than her sister. I told her this morning that Ginger wasn't looking good and I was worried that she wouldn't make it. Alana told me if Ginger died, we'd get another guinea pig.

We'll have a piggy funeral this evening, though I'm not sure where we'll put her to avoid sprinkler lines. I'll get one of those stepping stone kits for the girls to make too.

I don't know how to guide them through their grief. I want to make it go away. More accurately, I want it to be gone so I don't have to watch them hurt. But I don't want to rush them or discount their feelings of loss and sadness either. I've read several online articles on the subject, but I still feel woefully inadequate.

*sigh*

WARNING: Whining Ahead

I hate this time of year. Really.

I'm tired. The weather's crappy, or teasing us with *almost* nice weather and then going back to crappy.

Did I mention I'm tired? As in, could sleep for several days, tired.

Blah.

Tomorrow's payday. Yippee! Money comes in.....and money goes out. But, hey, at least it all balances. Job is secure, payroll is made, utilities are paid, mortgage, food, and even clothes for the kids who won't stop growing! Yes, I am grateful, even when there doesn't seem to be any money left, that there was enough to begin with.

So, because tomorrow is payday, it is also grocery shopping day. I have a love/hate relationship with this. I LOVE finding deals on food. Things like the "manager's specials" in the meat department where things have been marked down because they're nearing their 'use by' date. I buy and I freeze and we eat. I love combining a coupon with a clearance deal and getting things for next to nothing....

I found, in the clearance section, the Laughing Cow cheese wedges for $1.50. And, I had coupons for $1.00 off two, so they were $1.00 each. And they didn't expire until December 2010. No idea why they were in that bin, but there they were. I bought 4 because I really really really like that cheese. It's the only exception to my no "pasteurized processed cheese food" rule. LOL!

Now, inside these little treasures, I found another treasure.....a coupon for $1.00 or $1.25 off the purchase of the little mini gouda cheeses. You know, the ones that come wrapped in wax? Yeah, those.

Guess what I found in the clearance bin the other day? Yep, mini gouda cheeses for $1.50 each. Go me! I got 4 of them for less than $3.00 and I still have a couple more coupons!

This excites me. Yes, yes, my life really is *this* boring.

Now back to my love/hate relationship with grocery lists. I plan meals two weeks at a time. Lately, I have zero imagination and even less motivation. I can't seem to figure out *anything* for us to eat. Tristan doesn't like red sauce, fish, or shellfish. His vegetable consumption is limited to canned green beans and raw carrots. He has, however, recently stopped disecting his food, parsing out just *exactly* what's in it like an archeological dig. Alana is at that "vegetarian" stage, so she's not eating much meat. And Shannon is on a gluten-free diet.

Many people subscribe to the "serve what I want and the kids have to suck it up" school of thought. I understand this, however, it just doesn't sit well with me. How would I like it if someone told ME that I must eat something I don't like?! So, I save the spaghetti, salmon, and shrimp for nights when he's not here, which is usually once a week or so.

Throw in the time constraints of busy evenings, plus the fact that 5:00 pm is probably the point at which my energy is at it's lowest. I don't WANT to peel potatoes or make rice or brown this or cook that, thankyouverymuch!

Bruce gets home from work at 6:00 at the earliest. Often I don't start dinner until then, which means we're eating at 7:00, and the kids don't get to bed on time as a result. I've *got* to do something about that, getting dinner on the table earlier, but per the last paragraph, 5:00 means ZERO motivation for me. Really, I want to take a nap!

I'll figure it out, I suppose....and the coupons are calling my name.