It started yesterday. Day 10. I lost my mojo.
We had been coasting quite nicely, and the previous 9 days had honestly flown by without a hitch. Sure, I had been going to bed ridiculously early. I hadn't been able to keep up on everything around the house. But, basically, things were good. Most importantly, the kids had been happy. We had been busy, having fun, and Brad's absence had only been a minor ripple on our already constantly rippling pond.
Then came day 10. I was tired. I was cranky. The kids were also feeling a little over run. (Remember I mentioned the busy fun we'd been having? That means later bed times!) I lost my stride.
My patience was short. I was giving in purely 'cause it was easier. Another juice box? Sure. Just one more show before bed? Whatever. Ice cream and chips at the grocery store? As long as you're quiet.
I needed an escape. Since it wasn't possible to actually leave, I was into whatever it took to be able to lay on my bed and withdraw for awhile. A check-out, if you will. Undisturbed. Eat what you want. Drink whatever you wish. Watch that which suits your fancy on TV. Just do it without me, and quietly.
Wrong? Perhaps. Life altering? I doubt it. Badly needed to keep on with the next 10 days? Absolutely.
We survived. Day 10 is behind us. Day 11 has been WAY better. I've taken the reins again and said no to too much sugar, tv, boundary pushing. They weren't ruined in an evening of slacking off, and have fell back in line accordingly. Well done, children. I still haven't ruined you.
The cracks have been patched, for now. I'm sure they'll resurface eventually. That's only normal though, right? I'd feel way too robotic if there weren't struggles now and again. It's nicer to feel, cope and move on than to varnish a glossy veneer and fester inside.
Bring on the next 8! I'm ready.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
You know you're getting older when.....
I had a bit of an 'Aha!' moment last night.
Men in Black was on tv. My girls were watching together, and when Lauren inquired who was 'in' it, Madison replied 'Will Smith'. After being met with a blank stare she explained further; 'You know, Willow's Dad.'. Which immediately clarified for Lauren.
Sure makes you feel old when your kids are referencing movie stars of MY day by their up and coming children.
Ouch.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
Men in Black was on tv. My girls were watching together, and when Lauren inquired who was 'in' it, Madison replied 'Will Smith'. After being met with a blank stare she explained further; 'You know, Willow's Dad.'. Which immediately clarified for Lauren.
Sure makes you feel old when your kids are referencing movie stars of MY day by their up and coming children.
Ouch.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The Things We Carry.
Sorry for the gap in posts. I was unable to sign into my account for some reason. The 'glitch' seems to be fixed now. Hurray!
I attended a workshop on writing for Island Parent Magazine recently. It was fun and informative, motivating me to get on writing and submitting potential articles to them. I'll let you know if any get published!
They had a 10 minute 'prompt' style challenge. Where we each wrote about whatever came to mind, with the option to share or just listen afterwards.
The prompt was 'The Things We Carry'.
Here is what came to me:
The Things We Carry...
How often did we cringe, as young, carefree children when our elders used a word, a phrase, a point 100 times too many?
Your Mom using your middle name on which was surely the fifth time calling you in for dinner.
Your babysitter preaching that 'It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye'.
Your Nana starting a story with 'I'm sure I've told you this - but...' and indeed embarking on a story you remember better than her by now.
I remember the exasperation, the eye rolling, the tuning out of said anecdotes and words.
Then, unbeknownst to me, I grew up. I've had children of my own. I've caught myself in the same snarls of life, using those once scoffed at expressions.
Now though, even as I catch myself and see the inevitable eye roll from my own smalls, I feel love in these sayings.
I feel closer to my Mom. My Nana. Other, now considered wise, adults who have shaped my life. I pause and ponder, 'What else was that she said?'
I use these small tools and bits of knowledge when sharing and bestowing wisdom to friends and family.
They have become some of the most cherished things I carry.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
I attended a workshop on writing for Island Parent Magazine recently. It was fun and informative, motivating me to get on writing and submitting potential articles to them. I'll let you know if any get published!
They had a 10 minute 'prompt' style challenge. Where we each wrote about whatever came to mind, with the option to share or just listen afterwards.
The prompt was 'The Things We Carry'.
Here is what came to me:
The Things We Carry...
How often did we cringe, as young, carefree children when our elders used a word, a phrase, a point 100 times too many?
Your Mom using your middle name on which was surely the fifth time calling you in for dinner.
Your babysitter preaching that 'It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye'.
Your Nana starting a story with 'I'm sure I've told you this - but...' and indeed embarking on a story you remember better than her by now.
I remember the exasperation, the eye rolling, the tuning out of said anecdotes and words.
Then, unbeknownst to me, I grew up. I've had children of my own. I've caught myself in the same snarls of life, using those once scoffed at expressions.
Now though, even as I catch myself and see the inevitable eye roll from my own smalls, I feel love in these sayings.
I feel closer to my Mom. My Nana. Other, now considered wise, adults who have shaped my life. I pause and ponder, 'What else was that she said?'
I use these small tools and bits of knowledge when sharing and bestowing wisdom to friends and family.
They have become some of the most cherished things I carry.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Horton hears a......Lane?!
My world was shook up yesterday.
My two year old may have a life long fear of elevators.
It was definitely a 'gold star' moment for Mommy of the Year awards.
We were at my Mom's condo, riding the elevator up. Myself and the 3 kiddies, as we do all the time. Upon arrival at her floor we all (or so I thought) burst out and headed for her door. I was already gracing the premises and chatting at my sister inside when I heard my girls' panicked shouts.
'Lane's inside still! The door SHUT!'
OMG....what?! I spun around and took in the scene. My girls staring open mouthed at the indeed, closed door. One frantically pushing the call button. Both looking shell shocked. Irrationally I, too, started slapping at the call buttons. Up, down, WHATEVER! Just open the god damn door! To make matters worse, there are TWO side by side elevators, and of course the other one kept opening for us. My sister joined us in the hall, just in time for us all to hear Lane's cries drifting up or down the shaft and leaking through the doors. The saddest sound ever.
After shouting 'stay here!' I hit the stairwell and bounded down, two, three stairs at a time. All I was sure of is I didn't want him coming out street level, alone, or, horror of horrors, to the open arms of strangers. I again frantically hit the buttons and called his name. A heart wrenching plea made it's way to me...'Me here! Me here! It's Lane!' Oh. Sob. I could actually hear him passing by the still closed doors, and his voice fading as he went up and down.
Then. Silence. My heart stopped. What happened?! Finally! The door opened! A sickening drop of my stomach. He wasn't in there! Oh. My. God. What floor is he on? It's not mine, so please let it be where I left my sister. Otherwise there are 14 other floors and 3 below ground levels of parking. And so many possible dangers.
During this eternity (maybe 3 minutes?!) a young couple had come in from the street. They stood back, probably thinking I was insane, as I talked through the doors, trying desperately to console the sobbing voice they most certainly heard. As the silence fell, and doors slid open to nothing I'm sure I looked stricken. I stumbled over my words, explaining the situation and asking them to let me into the stairwell. (Worst timing ever to need a PHOB to get anywhere in a secure building)
Again, I dashed through the stairwell, hoping against hope he'd be with my sister and girls. Bursting through the doors, my eyes feasted on the sight of him. He turned upon hearing me and stumbled across the threshold on shaky legs, sobbing and falling into my open arms.
Between hugs, kisses and 'I'm so, SO sorrys' he too, clung to me, crying his hardest and exclaiming 'Don't EVER do that to me AGAIN.'
You know what?! I won't. I can guarantee I will never step out of an elevator again without all my smalls accounted for.
That is, if I ever get him to set foot in one again.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
My two year old may have a life long fear of elevators.
It was definitely a 'gold star' moment for Mommy of the Year awards.
We were at my Mom's condo, riding the elevator up. Myself and the 3 kiddies, as we do all the time. Upon arrival at her floor we all (or so I thought) burst out and headed for her door. I was already gracing the premises and chatting at my sister inside when I heard my girls' panicked shouts.
'Lane's inside still! The door SHUT!'
OMG....what?! I spun around and took in the scene. My girls staring open mouthed at the indeed, closed door. One frantically pushing the call button. Both looking shell shocked. Irrationally I, too, started slapping at the call buttons. Up, down, WHATEVER! Just open the god damn door! To make matters worse, there are TWO side by side elevators, and of course the other one kept opening for us. My sister joined us in the hall, just in time for us all to hear Lane's cries drifting up or down the shaft and leaking through the doors. The saddest sound ever.
After shouting 'stay here!' I hit the stairwell and bounded down, two, three stairs at a time. All I was sure of is I didn't want him coming out street level, alone, or, horror of horrors, to the open arms of strangers. I again frantically hit the buttons and called his name. A heart wrenching plea made it's way to me...'Me here! Me here! It's Lane!' Oh. Sob. I could actually hear him passing by the still closed doors, and his voice fading as he went up and down.
Then. Silence. My heart stopped. What happened?! Finally! The door opened! A sickening drop of my stomach. He wasn't in there! Oh. My. God. What floor is he on? It's not mine, so please let it be where I left my sister. Otherwise there are 14 other floors and 3 below ground levels of parking. And so many possible dangers.
During this eternity (maybe 3 minutes?!) a young couple had come in from the street. They stood back, probably thinking I was insane, as I talked through the doors, trying desperately to console the sobbing voice they most certainly heard. As the silence fell, and doors slid open to nothing I'm sure I looked stricken. I stumbled over my words, explaining the situation and asking them to let me into the stairwell. (Worst timing ever to need a PHOB to get anywhere in a secure building)
Again, I dashed through the stairwell, hoping against hope he'd be with my sister and girls. Bursting through the doors, my eyes feasted on the sight of him. He turned upon hearing me and stumbled across the threshold on shaky legs, sobbing and falling into my open arms.
Between hugs, kisses and 'I'm so, SO sorrys' he too, clung to me, crying his hardest and exclaiming 'Don't EVER do that to me AGAIN.'
You know what?! I won't. I can guarantee I will never step out of an elevator again without all my smalls accounted for.
That is, if I ever get him to set foot in one again.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
Monday, May 23, 2011
Wee man pee.
Lane comes up to me saying 'Mom, Mom, come see! I made foot prints!'. Okaaaay....I'm thinking as I get up to see. Sure enough, there they are, cute little two year old foot prints meandering in circles on the hardwood. But they are awfully wet. We DID just walk in from the pool however.....? Hmmmm. Where IS the towel on the floor that must be so wet?! Wait....what's THAT?! The puddle of.....of....?! 'Lane! What is that?!'. 'Pee!'. He exclaims proudly. Oh dear.
The footprints ARE still pretty cute though!
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
The footprints ARE still pretty cute though!
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
Fallers Wife Angst
Today is the first day Brad is actually falling again. Due to some circumstances out of our control he ended up with his first 2 days off. So, while I felt I was adjusting well to him being gone, last night it kind of hit me. Not him being away. But his god forsaken line of work. It's scary. It's dangerous; second most after Alaskan crab fishing apparently. There are so many 'what ifs' that lurk up while I lay still in the dark trying to push them down and get some rest. Two major 'what ifs' are thankfully not part of this job. No helicopter or float plane rides. Hurray for that. The act of falling the trees is still so nerve racking though. Words like 'snag' and 'widow maker' do nothing to quell my unease. Yes, I feel assured he is good at what he does. Yes, I believe he won't put himself in a situation that isn't reasonable. But while I run these things through my mind, other, brutal scenarios still fight to rear their ugly heads. Sigh. It is what it is though. I'm sure after day one, and each subsequent day, my racing mind will quiet. The day to day of being home alone with three kids will take over more and more of my physical and mental energy. Leaving me to do nothing else but crash at the end of the day. I will welcome the fatigue with gratitude. Anything to put an end to the awful 'what ifs' playlist on repeat in my head.
Be safe, Brad.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
Be safe, Brad.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
Sunday, May 22, 2011
What's in a Name?
Morning, Readers,
Wow, have things changed around here! Some major, life shifting, changes.
We've left three jobs, and picked up one new (old) one. I politely declined continuing my 'second' job as part of my 'scaling' down efforts to re-balance myself. You may remember some struggles I was having awhile back. A lot stemmed from too much on my plate. I was still left with my job at Starbucks though. A job I actually really, REALLY enjoyed. It was an excellent adult/social outlet for me after spending so many hours with my 3 babes. It was easy, I was good at it, and for the most part, enjoyed every minute of it. But there were downfalls. Downfalls that slowly started showing themselves over the 18 months I worked there. Things that, at first, seemed a fair exchange for what we gained. Gradually though, I started questioning whether it was worth it. My house became harder and harder to keep nice. Basics were getting done, but piles of clutter, paperwork, STUFF were starting to inhabit closets, corners, flat surfaces. Laundry was never ALL done. Kids toys were in random bins everywhere. Library books and shoes were missing. It became apparent that with 3 kids, 2 working parents, and very little time when those 2 parents were home together, that we were lacking in both time and energy to get more than the basics done. After feeding, bathing, homework, school runs, grocery shopping, laundry (some!), dishes and bedtime, our tanks were running dry. My heart tank was starting to run dry. It ate at me that things were unraveling. On the school front I was missing field trips, concerts, plays, sporting events. I was forgetting to send a towel on swim days, shoes on track days, a coveted item on show and tell days. I had faint memories of reading and signing field trip forms, and monthly 'overviews' of upcoming events. I still forgot many. I didn't get to read to them 4 evenings a week. I didn't get to help with homework more than half the school week. I was missing snuggles, bathes and tuck-ins. On the other hand, Brad was working all day and then dragging himself through all these routines on dead feet. Missing me, and my help, while I felt I was missing out. It wasn't working for us. It slowly became apparent that the sacrifices we were making just weren't worth it.
We talked about what we needed. For our relationship, our family life, our monetary existence. Everything. It looked more and more like Brad returning to falling, and 'camp life', would provide sustenance for all these things. Yes, he would be gone for extended periods of time. Yes, I would lose my 'adult time' outlet. Yes, it wouldn't be all easy. BUT, it would provide us quality time together when he was off, it would allow me to re-invest myself in my top 3 priorities; my kids, it would give us the chance to alleviate much financial stress and plan for 'extras' as well. So I left Starbucks. Brad left his job. I became a camp wife again. We have embarked on a camp life.
We are on day 2. So far, so good. It will take some settling in. There will be a learning curve. Brad will be missed. He will miss us. In my heart though, I feel peace. I believe this was a good move. I believe I will start to feel whole again. Not empty and stretched and grasping.
That brings me to the post title, 'What's in a Name?' Part of my commitment to this new endeavor is to also get back in touch with my Blog. I need it. As an outlet for my thoughts, feelings, days recounting. To keep myself in touch with that 'outside world' I've stepped away from. It helps me to relax, gather my thoughts and reflect. It WILL likely take on a new feel though. That of a stay-at-home Mama living on her own for stretches of time. Sooooo....I am changing the Blog name. I've never been satisfied with what it is called now anyways, so it fits my 'new leaf' sort of life right now too.
Stay tuned. Change will happen in next few days.
Smiles, Be Well, Crystal
Wow, have things changed around here! Some major, life shifting, changes.
We've left three jobs, and picked up one new (old) one. I politely declined continuing my 'second' job as part of my 'scaling' down efforts to re-balance myself. You may remember some struggles I was having awhile back. A lot stemmed from too much on my plate. I was still left with my job at Starbucks though. A job I actually really, REALLY enjoyed. It was an excellent adult/social outlet for me after spending so many hours with my 3 babes. It was easy, I was good at it, and for the most part, enjoyed every minute of it. But there were downfalls. Downfalls that slowly started showing themselves over the 18 months I worked there. Things that, at first, seemed a fair exchange for what we gained. Gradually though, I started questioning whether it was worth it. My house became harder and harder to keep nice. Basics were getting done, but piles of clutter, paperwork, STUFF were starting to inhabit closets, corners, flat surfaces. Laundry was never ALL done. Kids toys were in random bins everywhere. Library books and shoes were missing. It became apparent that with 3 kids, 2 working parents, and very little time when those 2 parents were home together, that we were lacking in both time and energy to get more than the basics done. After feeding, bathing, homework, school runs, grocery shopping, laundry (some!), dishes and bedtime, our tanks were running dry. My heart tank was starting to run dry. It ate at me that things were unraveling. On the school front I was missing field trips, concerts, plays, sporting events. I was forgetting to send a towel on swim days, shoes on track days, a coveted item on show and tell days. I had faint memories of reading and signing field trip forms, and monthly 'overviews' of upcoming events. I still forgot many. I didn't get to read to them 4 evenings a week. I didn't get to help with homework more than half the school week. I was missing snuggles, bathes and tuck-ins. On the other hand, Brad was working all day and then dragging himself through all these routines on dead feet. Missing me, and my help, while I felt I was missing out. It wasn't working for us. It slowly became apparent that the sacrifices we were making just weren't worth it.
We talked about what we needed. For our relationship, our family life, our monetary existence. Everything. It looked more and more like Brad returning to falling, and 'camp life', would provide sustenance for all these things. Yes, he would be gone for extended periods of time. Yes, I would lose my 'adult time' outlet. Yes, it wouldn't be all easy. BUT, it would provide us quality time together when he was off, it would allow me to re-invest myself in my top 3 priorities; my kids, it would give us the chance to alleviate much financial stress and plan for 'extras' as well. So I left Starbucks. Brad left his job. I became a camp wife again. We have embarked on a camp life.
We are on day 2. So far, so good. It will take some settling in. There will be a learning curve. Brad will be missed. He will miss us. In my heart though, I feel peace. I believe this was a good move. I believe I will start to feel whole again. Not empty and stretched and grasping.
That brings me to the post title, 'What's in a Name?' Part of my commitment to this new endeavor is to also get back in touch with my Blog. I need it. As an outlet for my thoughts, feelings, days recounting. To keep myself in touch with that 'outside world' I've stepped away from. It helps me to relax, gather my thoughts and reflect. It WILL likely take on a new feel though. That of a stay-at-home Mama living on her own for stretches of time. Sooooo....I am changing the Blog name. I've never been satisfied with what it is called now anyways, so it fits my 'new leaf' sort of life right now too.
Stay tuned. Change will happen in next few days.
Smiles, Be Well, Crystal
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