One Saturday late afternoon…

Ring

Ring

“Beth your phone is ringing.”

“Oh, is that mine.”

For a second I thought about not going to see who was calling and letting it go to voice mail. It had been a hard day and I already felt worn out. But instead I reached for my phone and saw that Alice was calling. I answered it.

She sounded tired and frazzled. She sounded like I felt.

Her first words were:

“What are you doing? Do you want to get coffee with me? Please, it has been a really hard day.”

My answer was “Nothing, yes and yes!”

Mike looked at me curiously when I hung up, hearing me say “Sure where should we go?” was probably was a clue that I was thinking of getting out of the house and it wasn’t even dinner time yet. But then I told him the full extent of our conversation, which included more than the coffee & yes. It included the need to share the experiences of mothering with another mom. One who understood what it was like to get dressed in what you thought were clean clothes only to realize after you are in public that your pants have a small dirty hand-print on the back and you didn’t realize it but everyone else does and by the way that chubby kid hand-print is on your butt. Or what it is like to NEVER go to the bathroom without someone intruding, someone asking for food (hello! I am in the bathroom) or someone deciding that is the moment to tear apart your entire living room. Or…well you get the picture!

Mike said he understood when I told him why. After all I am home all day with the kids and my day is one of constant “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” while I try to home educate them, run a home and have some semblance of a career. He is aware that while his work isn’t easy he does get to leave, talk to grown-ups if he so desires, he gets to have quiet bathroom breaks, and he has some sense of peace in his car (no one is shouting while he drives “HE IS LOOKING AT ME!!!” or singing the Phineas and Ferb theme song at the top of their lungs…just sayin’).

So, I got ready and within an hour she and I were sitting there in the cafe drinking our coffee. As we talked about everything under the sun from faith to education to hobbies to our kids we both relaxed more into our chairs and felt recharged. I am sure those around us could see the frazzled mom vibes starting to melt off of us.

At one point while we were talking I told her that I was so happy to have her call. It had been one of THOSE days. The kind where you think maybe if this mothering jig was a reality show it would be “Survivor Island.” And your day is right at the point where someone is going to get voted off this motherhood island and secretly you hope it is you. It is not that you don’t love your kids, because you do. You would give up everything for them and in many cases you do, willingly. Still every momma needs some time to hear herself think! Coffee with a good talk and a mom who has been there was the perfect break.

As she heard me talk about how it was perfect timing her smile got bigger.

Her next words…

“You know what? It is good to know I am not the only one who has days like that and it is good to know I am not alone. I love my kids but today was just a really hard day.”

And you know what?

She was right. As we finished our coffee it was good to know that there was someone else, like me, who had hard days and days where she needed to find space to breathe. It was good to feel like I wasn’t alone.

I am so glad I answered my phone.

::Watching::

Lately, I have been watching Oprah’s Next Chapter. I am always interested in learning more about those who are successful, their success and how they manage their lives is intriguing to me. I often feel like they have unlocked a mystery to life that I have not. They found out how to open the doors that I have not. However, the reality is they have challenges unlocking certain doors and they do struggle to overcome certain walls in their lives. When I watched the interview she did with Chris Christie in it I especially liked the way she and Chris Christie discussed about their weight and body images. I can relate to their struggles. It is hard to know that you can successfully manage so many other areas of your life but struggle with your body, weight and how to manage your health.

::My body::

Watching them talk about body image and weight struggles made me think about how this year I have committed to work to love my body. For better, for worse and for the extra stretch marks I carry. I have struggled with loving my body for as long as I can remember. Judging, measuring, belittling it when compared to others. Instead of recognizing that I have been given a beautiful body. Stretch marks, big hips and all. This body has done amazing acts, it has taken me to the fire of life and through it. This body is mine.

::My Health::

And as part of loving my body I am aware I have to be more conscious of caring for it. It is a gift that I have been given from God one I have not fully embraced as I should. So I have been focusing on getting healthy, on what I put in my body, how I care for my body, and the sleep I get {or don’t get}, the way I move and many other things. Also, while I know my weight should not define me and for the first time it hasn’t, but I am pleased to have lost 17 pounds since September, this isn’t the baby weight from Baby Girl. I lost that weight fairly quickly after her, no this is the weight and the baggage I brought with me into my pregnancy with her. After I had D-man I lost a good amount of the baby weight immediately after. However, my weight crept back up during the months after. In dealing with postpartum depression, other health concerns, finishing my dissertation, the special needs of my children, and the stresses of every day life I became focused on survival but not true health. And as a result I didn’t care for my body, my health and my soul like I should have during that time, I did begin to work at it. I started on the path. The path I am now on, the one that kept me from having a hard pregnancy with baby girl and hard recovery. And knowing that my body is carrying a little less of that baggage I brought with me, the baggage I need to shed, reminds me on the right path.

::Hoping::

I’m hopeful that in going through this I will break down my self-made walls and unlock doors. The ones I closed years ago. Maybe I can also learn to appreciate that I am a work in progress.

I may have finally kicked my addiction to sweet cream in my coffee. And I did it without a stint in rehab.

Seriously, it was bad. Real bad. I needed the stuff and I needed it everyday, all day.  It made me feel good but it was adding in a lot of extra sugar in my life.  And my body.

However, at the start of the year instead of sweet sugary flavored coffee creamer I began to add in almond milk. I now have gone 12 days without any sweetened creamer or additional sugars, only almond milk, in my coffee.

Yep, 12 days.

12 days and counting.

12 days…but hey who is really counting?

Oh yeah, me that’s who.

I never knew before making this small change how much it had a hold over me. How deep I was in. But now I see it clearly and am hoping I can stay off the stuff for good.

Here’s to 2012 sweet coffee creamer free.  And to be clear so nobody goes all crazy on me and suggests I go coffee free.  That ain’t gonna happen. No way, no how.

But I may be starting to break some sugar addiction in small ways. Small but very real ways.

I am almost done with the semester. I can see the finish line!!

Well, maybe not the finish line. But at least a place to rest for a bit before I have to get going again.

As a student I would dread finals and the rush to get everything done before the end of the semester. Absolutely dread it! But now as the instructor I cannot wait for it, right around Thanksgiving the fact that the end is around the corner begins to set in.  I look forward to it with glee. Not because I don’t enjoy my students or the classroom because I do.  I also enjoy  the other projects I work on, I believe in them. But do ya know what happens after the end? What happens once all the papers and exams are graded, the emails answered & the submit button hit?

Winter Break!

Meaning relaxing, reading for pleasure, watching movies under a blanket at night with the kids all snuggled with us, spiked eggnog, wrapping Christmas gifts & trimming the tree, cookies & stockings hung in a row, and awaiting to rejoice at Christmas Eve Mass & so much more.

I am excited for the break. The chance to refresh, restart and recharge.  I am trying (there’s that word again!) to not think about how I have to start back on my feet again with the winter term.

Instead…

I’m looking forward to next week.

And did I mention there will be cookies? And spiked eggnog? Oh yeah, I am so ready.

“Mom, Mommy, Mom, Mommy, Mommy, Mom, Mom, Mommy…”

Huh? I realize someone is talking to me in real life, not in my dream.  Makes sense given I am dreaming about being on a beach with no one else around except my husband & magical drinks which keep appearing.   I thought it was odd while I was laying on the beach that Mike would be calling me Mom or Mommy in my dream, we don’t roll that way.

Then I realized slowly that it wasn’t him, it wasn’t in a dream, but one of my kids.

I will be honest, I tried to ignore it. I tried to keep my eyes closed as I was dead tired. And Mike had been up with the kids, he was giving me a chance to sleep until he left. I was thinking whoever this is can go & ask their father.  After all I was busy. Sleeping. That thing I don’t get to do regularly at this stage in my life.

But it starts again.

“Mom, Mommy, Mom, Mommy, Mommy, Mom, Mom, Mommy…”

But it doesn’t stop.  Now the tapping is accompanied by breathing.

Someone is breathing on my face while saying “Mom, Mommy, Mom, Mommy, Mommy, Mom, Mom, Mommy…”

I opened one eye to see Mamacita tapping my arm.

“Yes?”  I mumbled in my half-awakened state.

“Hi Mommy. Are you sleeping?”

“Not anymore. What did you want sweetie?”

She must have some dire emergency to have woken me.  One that requires her to wake me, on the day I am getting to sleep in, one that her father can’t help her with. One that requires only Mommy.  One that needs me up to come to her rescue.

Then she answers with this:

“Oh, I just wanted to know if you were sleeping.”

Seriously?! That is all she wanted. She just wanted to know if I was sleeping?

And for those who haven’t seen this before, this is how I felt.

When she opens her mouth and sings I get chills.

I am also reminded of being a little girl and my mother would throw on a Janis Joplin album. When I heard that album I knew that music could speak to your soul. Music could speak for your soul. It could say things you couldn’t or wouldn’t.

Adele’s voice speaks to my soul, for it and in a way that causes me stop, to think about what could have been, what is and what may be. To think of when I was younger, of where I am now, of when I had less, had more and had everything but nothing at the same time. Even if I don’t know the path the words have walked I know the emotion they convey.

You know some music just makes me FEEL, it surges through the sounds of my soul.

Last night it was so quiet before bed.  I was surrounded by sleeping children, nursing the baby down and Mike was working on a project late into the night. He would come up from the basement every now and again to talk with me and to share in the quiet moments of the night.  It was simple and reminded me of the beauty in slowing down. In just being.  Not rushing to throw in that last load of laundry or run behind everyone else to see what needs to be put away.

I just was.

It turns out I have been pushing myself a little too much since the baby was born.  Not emotionally but physically.  I had my postpartum checkup and was reminded that I can slow it down some.  I didn’t think I was moving too fast.  In fact, quite the opposite I feel like I have been taking it too slow!  But my body decided to tell me otherwise by giving me the cues a new mother, no matter if she has just had her first or 52nd child (could you imagine!), has to let her know she needs to take her steps wisely. With going back to work, activities restarting and the rushing of the new season I may have jumped back in with too much gusto.

So, last night I took the advice to take a step back.  And I did just that. I rested, feet up, baby nestled close and the sounds of the night starting to filter all around me. While I was sitting there I realized I also haven’t been taking enough time to feed my soul lately.

I haven’t been taking the time to grow in my passions, to be thankful, to be prayerful, and to enjoy the simple pleasures around me or to simply be.  However, I am also reminded that with every season whether it is the fall arriving with its harvest moon or welcoming a new life into family a new beginning is awaiting.   A beginning that takes time to refill, refresh and reinvigorate the soul with the fresh cool breeze of Autumn.

After deciding to out myself as suffering from postpartum depression after the birth of our fourth child I knew going into having a fifth child people would wonder about my health.  More specifically my mental health. It only makes sense that people would ask about how things are going.  Usually when they ask it’s with the nodding to side head bob, lowered voice and inserted randomly into the conversation.  “So, how is the baby doing with nursing? And how are you? No, really how ARE you?”

Heck, I was concerned too as was Mike going into having another baby.  I can’t lie about that.  I won’t lie about that.  Those hard days and struggles with postpartum depression are part of who I am, they are part of our the strength of our marriage, part of the amazing husband Mike is and the testament to fighting for a life well loved.  It showed us that we aren’t perfect but we are stronger than we realized.

I won’t romanticize it to the point of saying either of us want to go back there.  It’s more of a “been there done that have the t-shirt thankyouverymuch” kind of thing.  However, the experience did teach us how to put a plan in place with my doctor to make sure that if things went south again we’d be prepared, Mike knew what to look for and what I needed to get well.  And we put a general life plan in place to help simplify and support the process after Little Miss Baby Girl arrived. For example some things we did, I took a full maternity leave from my work, Mike took off more time and did not work during that time, I found out where support groups were ahead of time (should I want or need them) and there was a simplifying of our life routines.

While none of those thing can be a guarantee to prevent postpartum depression from happening they did and do help take the pressure off for me to be perfect.  To be everything to all people all the time. I am over the idea I can do it all, that I will never fall.

I am not perfect.

I am not a Supermom, Superwife or Superwoman.

I am human.

I am a good mom. I am a good wife. I am a good woman.

I am doing the best I can.

I am doing my best in this moment.

And that’s OK.

Simply accepting that reality has been a huge shift in my life.  In our life as a family.  In our marriage.

So, yes to answer the question on how I’m doing, I am OK.  No, really I am.  In fact, I am doing better than OK I am doing really good. Perfect no, but good yes. I am no longer the enemy of the good in myself. Instead, I am living in this moment and riding the waves of life as they come.  I am living a life well loved.

This is Lost In My Mind by The Head and The Heart. It is beautiful. Period.

Momma once told me
You’re already home where you feel loved
I am lost in my mind
I get lost in my mind

In other news I am NOT changing my blog name. I know I wrote about it before. But turns out I am married to her.  I can’t leave her. Even if I want to say it was a moment in time one I want to leave behind, turns out that moment is part of ME.  And I love her.  I am her. I am no longer running from who I am.

Ignore the fact that :

I took it in my bathroom. Myself.

Or that it’s the end of the day.

Or that it’s the start of morning. I have a newborn those times run together.

Or that I am technically in my nightgown.

Or that I haven’t brushed my hair since I got up.

But I DO have make-up on. Granted it is from earlier in the day.

OK…the remaining make-up is really from the day before.  But still it proves I do clean up.

Occasionally.

I am just too lazy to clean up, again.

Once is a lot of work.