life with WE

I do indeed talk to strangers.

I'm that person who will tell you that your tag is sticking out of your shirt, even if I don't know you.  I'll also let you know if your skirt is tucked into your underwear, if you've dropped your wallet, if your gas tank cover is open, if you are wearing a particularly awesome shirt/outfit/pair of glasses etc.  I talk to babies while waiting in checkout lines.  I commiserate with other parents when kids act up in a store.  Yes, I'm a talker and I'm about to get all up in your business.

I do these things in the hope that others will do the same for me.  You know, build a community, show some compassion and/or kindess and all that jazz. 

Why won't anyone tell me when there is a giant whitehead on the side of my nose ready to pop?  WHY?

I mean, when you go into the bathroom and see something like that, you die a little inside.  You  begin to wonder how many people you've interacted with that day that noticed that and wondered, "why doesn't she pop that thing?"  It's because I DIDN'T KNOW.  You're supposed to tell me. 

Is it wrong to mention zits to people?  I guess perhaps there should be rules.  For instance, if it is a teen or even adult who is clearly battling acne?  Let it go.  If it's me, and it's a giant underground red zit generally associated with that time of the month?  Don't mention it at all.  In fact, compliment me on how thin I look and how pretty my face is.  But your typical whitehead sticking out ready to go? 

Please tell me.

Won't you?

Even though it's summer break, it's still a Monday.

Day 1 of summer break and I've already had to explain to Elaine that people still have to work during the summer.  Twice.

"Why is daddy getting ready for work?"

"What do you mean you are working Tuesday and Wednesday?"

Seriously child.

Next up?  The grocery store.  I've bribed them with the library if they participate without much whining.  Do I know how to start the summer off right or what?  Warren's already settled in to the summer of wii.  Or so he thinks.  I'm going to have to burst that bubble - stat!

A time to rejoice, unless you live at my house.

At most houses, the last day of school is cause for major celebration.  Of course, not at this house. 

Let's remember the children that live here, shall we?  Elaine - she who abhors change.  Warren - he who is prone to major anxiety and is quite sensitive.

These two?  They HATE the last day of school.   Making things worse is the fact that W's teacher is retiring.  Between the two of them, they are basket cases. 

I tried to make them focus on the fact that they have had great school years and it's time to celebrate.  I've tried to point out that we will see their teachers again.  In fact, E's teacher will still be at our school and W's teacher plans to sub up at school.  Yet it is not enough.

Elaine, she's easy enough to distract and move onto other things.  Warren on the other hand... it's like the anxiety had a chance to rear its ugly head and now it's ready to feed.

I talked to him some more.  "It's okay to be sad for a moment.  But then we must think of how great it was that you had your teacher the last year before she retired.  Others won't have that opportunity.  And how great for her that she can now take a break and have more time for fun things and STILL plans on substitute teaching..  Let's think of the positive for her and be happy.  Also, you crying about it isn't going to change anything, is it?  So be sad for a moment, and then move on.  I'd chose to focus on the positive things."  More tears, more coughing, and an attempt at making himself throw up.  Awesome.

I may or may  not have gotten a bit loud.  First to distract him and to get him to focus on blowing his nose.  Then because I was annoyed at how a ten year old is incapable of blowing his nose.  So very annoying.  Back to the topic at hand - the end of school - and his crying is renewed.  I explained once more how he needed to solve this for himself.  That he had the tools.  Tools from me, from his school counselor, from his dad - all of which would work, but required him to use them.  And that's where it breaks down.  Every time.

He doesn't want to do it himself.

He wants someone to fix it. 

Specifically, that someone is me.

So now what started as a sadness about the end of school has escalated into an anxiety episode, and has me nothing but frustrated and angry and sad for my son who shouldn't have to feel like this and who needs to step up to the plate and OMG I'm going to lose my ever-loving mind.

When I interviewed for the second part-time jobI have now, they asked me outside of my family, what was my biggest accomplishment?  I scoured my brain for one from a job I had held more than 11 years ago.  Then they asked out of curiousity about my biggest family accomplishment.  My answer?  Managing to keep my high anxiety son alive this long without the two of us hurting each other and surviving each and every anxiety episode - his or mine.

Seriously.

Too honest?  Too bad.

I don't think you get it unless you are crazy like us.  I don't think it's possible.  But here.  Here I am making sure he has the tools he needs to master this.  To manage and control it.  But he won't use them.  He refuses.  And when he looks hopeless and wants to blame someone/something, it's me.  I know it's my job to accept it as the mom.  Fine.  But I still don't like it.  I don't think I ever will.

Wow, this started out in a place completely different than where we ended.  Sorry about that.  Clearly I needed to vent, again.  You people are always held hostage to my rantings.  Sorry about that as well.  Actually, I'm not all that sorry because I feel better.  Thank you.  And happy last day of school!

Warren's heaven...

Yesterday at our mother's day celebration, Warren got to put on my Uncle Tom's Cardinals World Series ring.  It's the real deal.  One step down from the one the players get.  He (Tom) is an electrician at Busch Stadium.

Please note that Warren is wearing his Yadier Molina 360 shirt under his David Freese jersey, as well as his Cardinals bracelet.  Because that's the kind of fan he is.  And also please note my godkid/cousin Cody appearing in the background!

Elaine also had to touch the bling.

Hooray for Uncle Tom!  I'm sure that ring makes the 90 hour work weeks totally worth it.  :)

 

It's all okay now. Hooray!

My family went camping this weekend to a place we go at least once a year with our friends and their kids - Camp Ondessonk, in the Shawnee National Forest.

It was JUST what I needed.

Anxiety lessened.  Senses overwhelmed with nature.  Bug bites all over my children – check.  Blisters on Elaine from wearing too small of crocs as she played in the creek?  Check.  Spirit?  Restored.

Although it was hot, humid, and the air didn’t move at times; we had a blast.  As the adults chatted on lawn chairs away from the fire - the kids created a “kid zone”, which was in the creek near our units.  Adults weren’t allowed as they frolicked in the creek, climbed rocks, and captured frogs,  baby turtles, tadpoles and crawdads.  (Crayfish?  Crawfish?  Whatever, those tiny black lobster looking things you can find in creeks in Missouri and Illinois.)  We hiked.  We saw the supermoon through a telescope.  We were swarmed by bugs, but we ate, drank, had adult conversation, sang kid songs, made s’mores, listened to the Beastie Boys (RIP ‘MCA’ Adam Yauch) and just re-charged.  It is so awesome to realize that you are not alone.  You have friends living parallel lives to you – struggling with their kids, laughing with/at their kids, managing this crazy life we all lead.  We laugh over college memories; such an easier time – but so glad to be where we are now.

It was exactly what the doctor ordered.

And then last night, I sank into bed, so very happy to be home, on a soft bed, not being swarmed by bugs searching for exposed skin, and in the cool air conditioning.  Long live AC!  I love me some filtered cool air.  I’m ready to face the week!

A peek inside my brain. You might want to run!

Today my anxiety is in overdrive.

This week is bananas, schedule wise.  Additionally, I have started a new workout thingy (more on that in a later post) which now three days in, hurts.  A good hurt, but nonetheless hurts.  Today I would love to call in sick from life, huddle down in my bed, and read a book.  Escape from the world.  You know?  And when I was finished, all of my to-do’s would be magically to-done! 

My crazy brain makes even the most non important tasks seem life threatening at times.  And I put more tasks upon myself than anyone ever possibly could.  Mike will offer to help, to ease the burden, but I can’t even tell him all the tasks going on in my head because he would tell me to skip one or two or twenty and I can’t accept that.  I just can’t.  It’s failure.  The pressure I put on myself to do it all and do it the best is ridiculous.  And in a day or two, I will know that and be disappointed that I wasted a day feeling like this. 

I KNOW this is crazy.  I take my medication regularly and talk myself down as often as I can.  I think I’m definitely making progress letting go of something things, facing other things I hate head on and what not.  But today, the crazy is really really trying to win.  And fighting it seems to take more mental energy than I can muster.

I still have a great attitude, or so I think.  But I know in the near future, I will collapse.  Physically?  Maybe.  Emotionally – hells yeah.  It will happen, as it always does.  The way it will present is anyone’s guess.  It’s been anything from complete bitchiness, withdrawal, tears, anger, an inability to do anything, lethargy, binge eating or drinking, or a whole façade of “I can do everything y’all better get out of my way” manic high thing. 

Is it helpful to know it’s coming?  I’m not sure.  Sometimes I think that means I’ve made progress.  Other times I think it’s a sign that I still don’t have this under control.  Am I complaining?  God I hope not!  I’m just being honest about what is rattling around in my brain right now.  In the grand scheme of things, life is great and all is well and I need to suck it up.  Which I am trying to do.  But sometimes, the crazy wins.  I’d love to kick crazy’s ass, but haven’t figured out how to do it just yet.

This is one of those posts I will not re-read.  I’m sure it has grammatical errors, and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.  But if I stop to re-read it, it won’t see the light of day.  I will bury it.  Which is so my standard operating procedure.  Bury it, or bury my head in the sand.  Whatever.  I can’t be funny today.  I can’t relax today.  I just can’t.

Tomorrow will be better.  Actually today will be better, now that this is off my chest. 

It was a surprise to me, but not to Mike.

You may know (or may not I suppose) that Warren is into all things St. Louis Cardinals or Lego.  Oh wait.  He does love him some angry birds as well.  But the two big things are the Cardinals and Legos.  His room is a shrine to all things Cardinal baseball related and Legos.  I mean if you aren't a lego or a Cardinals player, you're not of any real importance to Warren G.  I'm just sayin'.  He watches every game he can, and comments along with Mike.  He's frustrated by bad calls by the umpires.  He's confused when Matheny doesn't start Molina.  It's hilarious.

One of the gifts I found for him for Christmas (which was basically Cardinals or Legos - duh), was a calendar for 2012, with all World Series pictures in it.  As an added bonus - every game is marked on that calendar including spring training.  I wandered into his room today to check what time the game started.  I stopped in my tracks as I checked the calendar and started giggling.  I called Mike into the room and showed him.  People, it has gone to a whole new level. 

He's tracking the score of each game on the calendar. 

Not only that - he's not taking the calendar down to write on it.  He's writing on it while it hangs, as evidenced by the demented looking writing - he generally has flawless cursive penmanship.  As an added bonus, he's made some comments on the bottom of April's page.

Sorry for the poor picture quality.  I took it with my cell phone!

I know it's hard to read from the glare, but it says 'stupid cubs and umpires'.  That my friends, is the piece de resistance.  Freaking hilarious.  And my apologies to Melinda and her beloved Cubbies.  But that's how we feel up in the House of WE.

Mike wasn't at all surprised.

My kid cracks me up.  And?  My kid is awesome.

 

Self-realization

Have you ever realized you’ve been a real asshole as a spouse lately?  Yeah, that’s the realization I’m having this morning.  

I’ve known it all week and hidden behind my headache – which is legit and never ending and so annoying – and my anxiety.  Both of those things are true things, and yes make a person be on edge, but it does not justify my butthead behavior and lashing out.

So I’ve sent an apology text to my hubs who is currently in a meeting, and I’m blogging about it.  It that like throwing myself on my sword?  What does that even mean anyway – if I threw myself on my sword I’d be dead, wouldn’t I?  I guess that’s one way to apologize.

Ugh, I need more patience, less headaches and perhaps more meds.  And I just need to be NICER. 

Seriously, being an adult and trying to be a good/better person is a never ending journey, isn’t it?  You’d think I’d have it mastered by now!  Ha! 

I wish I could say TGIF, but I'm going to say WTHF - what the heck Friday?

Bad morning here at House of WE.  Following a bad night.

Let's see...  kissed Warren good night and on my way out the door he tells me, "momma, I'm sad."  Huh.  So I turn back and sit on the edge of his bed.  I wait.  The tears well up in his eyes and he tells me that he's started thinking about Truman (our dog) dying.  "I don't want him to die.  I want to die before he does.  And if he dies can we get another dog and name him Turman?"  Ouch.  So we talked for a bit.  I told him dogs can't live forever, but that Truman's not dying today and that we can't think about him dying all the time or we'd never get out of bed.  His stomach hurt, so we chatted a bit more, and then I told him it was time to focus on something else and to stop thinking about it.  As he went through is states and capitals, we decided where to meet in our dreams.

Finally in bed, I fell fast asleep only to wake at midnight to small child whispering something about peeing her bed, 'just a little bit mommy'.  UGH.  That makes two nights in a row, and of course we hadn't done all the laundry, so there was NOT a waterproof mattress pad on her bed.  For reals.  So we got up to change those sheets, and of course did not have pleasant things to say while doing so.  I mean two nights in a row from a girl who is about to turn 8 and has a history of lying, therefore I cannot believe her when she says she was in a deep sleep even though I know she is in fact a deep sleeper but I also know she can in fact, be an excellent liar.

A night full of bad dreams and I'm up at 6:30 to wake the kids.  They get going about their morning, and I hear them watching TV.  Is the dog fed?  Is the dishwasher unloaded?  Are the backpacks ready?  Is that homework being done right in front of the TV that is due today?  UGH again! 

So the momma roared.  Which is always so pleasant in the morning.  And while roaring, I tossed in the fact that Elaine would be needing to switch the laundry and re-make her bed when she got home from school.  Oy vey, the tears flowed and the pouting began.  As Warren grabbed the box of art supplies looking for glue I may or may not have suggested that if he left that box out I would smack him with it when he got home. 

Good thing that testing wrapped up yesterday!

And for the record?  Still on my meds.  No worries there.

 

Testing, 1 2 3

This week at school, Warren is taking the MAP test.  As are all the other third, fourth and fifth graders, and junior high students and probably high school students in our district.

It’s the standardized test I think it stands for Missouri Aptitude Test – you remember it from back in the day, or something like it.  Filling in dots and making your best guesses and your teacher is unable to help you because they have to just administer the test and not help?

Our school tries to hype the kids and families up about the importance of the test.  They talk about test taking strategies, getting a good night’s rest, eating a healthy breakfast, taking your time, doing your best and not stressing out.  There are posters in the hallway made by kids at our school showing you how to fill in your answer circle completely, and telling you not to stress out.

Guess who is stressed out?

Yeah, Warren.  I’m guessing he didn’t read the posters.  Either that or he thinks the fate of the entire school rests upon his test results.  As exhaustion set in Sunday night, he lost his marbles thinking about the test.  I reassured him that all he had to do was his part.  I explained that these tests did not affect his grades, and that he was one of many children taking the test, not the only one.   He was still convinced his test was of the utmost importance.

That kid.  He’s so like me sometimes it’s scary.