Starting somewhere.

I have started new blog after new blog, only to feel.... unsatisfied. So in a pathetic attempt to just start writing again, putting ah pen to paper if you will; I'm not expecting much. But what I do know is I have to start. And if scrapping the entire lot and starting over isn't gonna happen, well I might as well continue on.

Years have past since I've been here last. Oh sure, I plan to move all those random "blog" entries so it looks like I poked in every now and then. But actually I was surprised this blog was still here, AND I remembered the password. I went back and read all that I had put down and it made me remember all that I had not. There IT was! All the reasons I hadn't been blogging, all the excuses I've made for not writing, right there! It makes no difference if I write about my today... TODAY, it will really matter later down the road. It seems they don't kid about time moving faster as you get older. And with 30 beating down my door, I suddenly feel the need to be me.

How odd. The age I always thought I'd have everything figured out by, seems to be the age I finally want to start figuring me out. There is so much about me that was. Then there came all that there is of me in the role I play in the day to day. Like there is a big block wall between the artistic and fantastical girl and the reliable and consistent mother. Because of the time and space in which I became a mother I just never had an integration process. I emerged from one world, one body, one mind; to submerge into something completely different. Not that it was wrong, it was what I needed to do to get through a time in my life. And now that my head is finally bobbing above water I can see that it is now time to find a merge. I can realize dreams that I had once, but I must find he ebb and flow. And it starts here, pen to paper, practice.

Stating all over again.

I’ve been telling myself I would do this for all of 2009. I played, and procrastinated, and pondered. Then I made a zillion excuses, turned off the computer and found something else to do.

That’s the thing about suburban life, there are always things I NEED to get done. Often times they cast a dark shadow over the things I’d like to be doing. (Funny how heaping piles of laundry can block out the sun.) So that’s what this blog is about; a suburban housewife/mother of three struggling to walk the line between domestic acceptance and bohemian artist. We’re talking Martha Stewart, meets Linda Perry, meets Janis Joplin, meets Rachel Ray, meets Nancy Botwin. If they all had 3 kids, a man who works like mad, and a home in suburbia. So there’s a little of everything and anything that crosses my path or my mind during the throes of this life.

A weekend of "AH HA" moments

Labor day weekend came with a heap of "AH Ha" moments. We got to go out and see people we haven't  seen since before Tristan was born. We took no children as it was more of an adult event, but the dogs did attend. Loki was my first "moment", that pup needs socialization and training like yesterday. He is unsure of how to play or respond to unfamiliar dogs or people. He barks at strangers both furry and human, then yelps when they initiate play. He is a stubborn one that will take work. Urbn, my dog, on the other hand is blossoming into quite a special dog. Not only was she incredibly patient and playful with the two young huskies that are still coming into their own, she protected her pup, Loki, with calm assertiveness. Not biting, but body checking the other dogs as they tried to antagonize pathetic Loki. Eventually she had to assert her dominance over one of the dogs that I saw nip both her and Loki more than a dozen times before, but she did not attack the dog. She growled and stood her ground, then stood over the submissive dog as she yelped and cried by her owner. I had to laugh, this dog was so aggressive, nipping and growling at my dogs when her owner was no where by. In fact, she seemed to feed off Loki if he yelped and fled. My good girl simply put that young husky in her place, protecting her pack. I took her back to camp and treated her to a left over Brat. I of course was looked at like a bitch by the dogs' owner since my Boxer appeared to be the aggressor. But that damn dog obviously had no training. She jumped all over me when I tried to feed my dogs, yes they were waiting patiently, she kept nipping my dogs (not nicely), was persistent at antagonizing Loki, and Urbn gave her more that a few warnings before she put her on her back. Now Robert's husky had quite a spirit also, but more manners. And her and Urbn had the same running playful energy and got along great.  So Urbn is moment 2, so smart and sweet. Yet she watches after the kids, Loki included, has a passive dominance (really she could have ripped the husky's throat out),  and will only take so much shit before she puts her foot down. I love my dog and need to bath that smelly fur bag so she can enjoy the inside fruits of practicing good manners and the gentleness of growing out of her puppy stage. 

It didn't take me long to realize Jer and I are not the same people that used to party like that. We used most of the time to be quiet and relax without kids' or obligations demanding our attention. I didn't realize that not everyone is changed by the birth of their own child. Our children have really helped us realize the kind of people we want to be and we have started to come into our own. Finding the world so much bigger and shifting the dynamic of our priorities dramatically. I am not trying to judge, just don't understand. I believe our children were given to us to help Jer and I evolve in this life. To help us see beyond ourselves, change our spirits eternally. Perhaps that was not their lesson for this life, or perhaps they have missed it. 

Moment 5 comes in the form of after-the-fact. All the prepping, money spend and cleanup that is still needing to be done, so I could spend the entire time wishing I had brought my kiddos. I really am a different person than I used to be. 

Next would be the fact that my husband has a dire need for balance in his life. He works too much and is losing precious time with his young family and he struggles to stretch himself practically translucent over all the obligations he has taken on. Sometimes I think he has forgotten what he is working for. All the money doesn't matter if we have to trade him for it. I told him long ago I'd live in a shack with him, as long as we were happy. I worry we have lost that. I am eternally grateful, but fearful that the happiness I thought would be in my life right now has eluded me. I spend far to much time bitter and jealous towards his career that now absorbs the majority of his thoughts, time and energy. Not me, not the kids, not our home, but a job that doesn't even appreciate him like we do. What would happen if he neglected his job the way he has neglected us? Would they still love him, forgive his faults, welcome him and keep him as his family does? What if we responded the way they would if the tables turned? Would we hold as much value as the company?

There are more moments I'm sure, but that last one has brought about emotions I'm not ready to deal with on the Friday morning so...

Hey that's MY cub!

We had many a long talks with T over the weekend about getting dropped off with the other kids and getting in line with his class all on his own Monday morning. He not only seemed okay with it, but excited, even as we pulled in and made the circle. But when the nice young teacher opened the van door and started to help with his backpack Tristan began stranger danger panic. "No mommy, please walk with me."

"But honey, your class is lined up and waiting right there, I can see them. Go hop in line, she will help you."

"Yeah, come on buddy. I'll walk you over." She was encouraging and soft, obviously dealt with this a time or two.

"Noooooo, please mommeeeeeee!" As he used all his might to tug his backpack back in the van. 

I threw a sheepish smile at the teacher, "I'll just park and walk him in, it's okay." She tossed me a reassuring wink, and closed the door.

We unloaded the crew and had to wait outside the class door for the rest of the class and Mrs.M to make their way in. His enthusiasm was fading. I deposited him at the end of the line as he begged me to walk him in, I explained I couldn't with Mims and Z. Mrs.M took his hand and began to guide him from me inside as he called out "Mommy please don't leave me!" Mrs.M and I exchanged understanding smiles as she reassured him I would be back for him sooner than he thought and the door closed. Another mom overheard walking by and gave a "sympathetic" Awww. 

"This started in the drop off area. I think I expected too much too soon."

"Both my boys cried the first bit of kindergarten. But my baby girl has been so eager since day one, although I cried when I sent each of them off."

"I'm hoping if I just gradually back off how far I'm willing to go with him it will ease the transition, last week was all the way into class. Baby steps." 

And then she said it, "Well did you check his pinky finger before you left?"

"HUH?" 

"To make sure you weren't still wrapped around it."

I was too surprised to have a come back. Fortunately we had reached the outside of the front doors and parted ways into the parking lot. As I loaded the other kids up and I ran over and over the brief conversation in my head. Had this mom who was sympathizing and sharing her kindergarten woes with me, just insulted me? I was really trying to make this a positive experience for everyone, doing the best with the parenting skills I have and really, I know my kid better than anyone. I decided to shrug it off, what are the odds I'd be dealing with her again, her "golden daughter" wasn't in T's class.

TUESDAY: The decision was made to this week, walk T to the drop off area and let him line up with his class while mommy watched from afar. But again resistance and begging to walk in with him. So, to avoid a bigger melt down, we decided this week I would walk to class with him, next week I would only walk to the drop off area, then graduate to actually being dropped off. We brought up the tail of his class line, since mommy only gave in because we had reached the time to walk into school, and had to jump in back. As I followed T and the rest, with Mims and Z in tow, I heard a conversation taking place behind me.

"Oh it was so sad, there was a little boy yesterday STILL crying on day 4 of kindergarten. And his mom just left with him so upset." I tossed a glance over my shoulder, it was HER! She went on about the "poor boy", my boy. I finally turned and very quietly and nicely said. "That was MY boy, and me." She looked surprised and gave me a "Oh I'm sure it wasn't." 

"Oh I'm pretty sure it was." We made it to T's class and got him in without incident. After the door closed I wheeled around, SHE was still talking with the other mother in the hall. "And I checked to make sure I adequately unwound myself from his pinky today. Thanks for the concern." We left her looking stunned with her mouth hung agape.

A First for everyone

We left Tristan yesterday for his very first day of kindergarten. After weeks of him going back and forth from day to day whether he was on board with the idea of big kid school or not, we met his teacher Monday night and he seemed amped up. Jer and I both walked him into class, took pictures and helped him follow the directions of Mrs.Mohler to put his lunch in the basket and hang his backpack. All was well until it was time for us to leave. I made exit first, which went fine. But when Daddy said god-bye the resistance began. Puppy-dog eyes, pleas of "no, stay" and a mild jumping/flapping fit as a class assistant stepped in the help make the transition. Jer met me in the hallway and felt horrible. "Was I just supposed to leave him all upset?"

"It's kindergarten, a right of passage." 

"But he's the only one not sitting quietly, and the ONLY one crying."

"He'll be fine, he's actually doing not too bad." I motioned to the kid in the hallway in full blown crying hysterics with his mom. "He was resistant to Pre-k to and loved it."

"I just wish someone would have helped give me direction on how to deal with this. It's my first day of kindergarten too! They do this every year, shouldn't they have tools for this?" We had reached the end of the hall and the front door was ahead. 

"Do you want to walk back and check on him?"

"YES!" We walked a bit back down the hall, "Let's not. I don't want him to see us and get more upset."

"They 'll call if it gets out of control. I'm not worried" I lied right to my husband. He's my first baby, I just left him with people I don't know, he's upset, of course I'm worried! I want to run in, scoop him up, and say he can stay home for another year. But alas, what kind mom would I be if I wasn't strong for my boys. 

At home Jer turned down pancakes before work. Too worked up I suppose. I busied myself all day til it was time to pickup. 

If not for Mims' last minute poo, I would have been 15 minutes early, instead I was 5. I waited in line 20 minutes til I reached T's class line. Mrs.Mohler helped load him into the van, explaining he was complaining of an upset tummy and she said she thought he was really hot. I looked into Tristan's face as I buckled him in and it was BAD! He was gray, clammy, and about to pass out. Definitely going into heat stroke, and I made up my mind in about 2 seconds that if he hadn't cooled off and perked up by the time we drove past the urgent care I would be taking him in. I pushed the cold juice I brought for him, turned the ac on him, and started to dig through his lunch bag. He had barely touched his juice from lunch, and odds are hadn't drank much throughout the day. He had left his cookies from lunch so I gave him those to boost the blood sugar, and insisted he drink his juice. It only took a few minutes to get color back in his cheeks, but he spent about two hours on the couch complaining of an upset stomach. Jer and I both had some concern regarding this incident, but I figured we would push through Friday and if anymore "incidents" happened we could reevaluate out school choice. Tristan was not put off at all as was ready to go back today.

This morning T and I walked the drop off zone so next week he could be dropped off with the rest of the kids and not walked in. We waited in the class line and walked to his classroom. He put away his lunch box, hung his backpack, retrieved his supplies box and sat at his table to color with his friends. I got three kisses bye, but no tears. And I was happy to see that each cubby box now had a bottle of water with each of the kids' names written in sharpie. Apparently Tristan wasn't the only issue from yesterday. I also got him a new drink box with a straw for his lunch box to encourage him to drink more. And now that I have the idea for pick-up I will either arrive early to be at the front of the line, or park next to his class line-up so I can run over and get him so he doesn't have to wait in the heat.  I'm waiting either way, just as long as he's not. 

But alas, Tristan has started kindergarten. He is five and growing up so fast. Thanks to Jer and him having a tough morning, I was spared myself going into despair.  Yes I am sad, but he is becoming a little man and growing up is inevitable. It seems so far away to think about all three kiddos off at school all day, but Tristan was just a baby yesterday.