Making Peace With Being an Introvert

I have spent most of my life hating the fact that I was "shy", "quiet", seemingly "stuck-up" and on a really bad day "backwards". I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I was failing at life. I hated that I was not the life of the party, and actually, if I was really honest, I hated that I flat out hated parties. Well, to be brutally honest, I hate most social engagements/obligations. I thought having a bevy of friends was the best gauge of how good of a person I was, and since the closest friends I have are my husband and sister, I felt that I was not "good enough", since they kind of have to be my friends. I have worried and prayed about the fact that my child has shown signs of being more "shy", feeling that I have already failed him, even saying with dread that he is "just like me".

But lately, especially in the last few weeks, I have really spent time thinking about this specific aspect of my personality. I have not only come to terms with it, but am starting to embrace the fact that I am a true introvert. Not only do I prefer quiet alone time, but I crave it. My soul needs this, just like it needs routine to feel fulfilled and at peace. I am starting to understand that not thriving in a crowd does not make me a failure. Being introverted, just like being extroverted comes with challenges, but does not make me "less of a person". Neither does it make be better than extroverts. It simply is part of the unique package that makes me, me. God knew that being introverted, which is an innate part of my personality, would help me accomplish His plans for my life. It means I am usually insightful, careful with the words I speak, conscientious regarding others feelings, able to enjoy the calm/quiet/routine times in life, and able to be alone without feeling lonely. This aspect of my personality has made me great at working in the mental health field, and at caring for my family.

I do believe God wants us to stretch outside of our comfort zone, and being very introverted means most new social interactions are hard for me, but this is part of learning reliance on Him, just like an extrovert has to rely on God for peace, comfort and guidance during times when he or she is alone. But, it truly is a beautiful thing when the thing you have hated about yourself, becomes something you truly love. I no longer stress whether Lane is "too shy", but have decided to work hard to let him know that God created him just the way he is supposed to be. I will always push him to stretch outside of his comfort zone, so he can enjoy all that life has to offer, but I will not force him.

Hmmm...apparently being 40 really is about making peace with yourself :)

The Struggle is Real

Life has gotten scary lately. Mostly about finances, but there are a lot of "things" that have contributed to this, such as all of the crazy world things (have you seen our choices for President this year), my child seeming completely uninterested in learning things, the not enough time with my husband for us to feel like we can connect thing, and so on that make life seem a little terrifying, but mostly, today it is the financial thing.

I hate it, because we have been working hard on paying off debts, rebuilding credit, paying bills on time, all of the really grown-up financial things that one does when they are, you know, a grown-up. It took us longer than most to pick up on this adult way of living regarding our finances. But in the last year and a half, we have been far more adult about our finances, but yet in the last few months  have found ourselves under an increasingly significant financial strain. This time it is far less our poor spending habits, or other usual culprits, but simply not enough income versus the output. Poor medical insurance (thank you Obamacare for ruining awesome coverage we used to have through our employers), large medical costs, including an ambulance and hospital trip for the youngest amongst us, coupled with a significant, albeit unavoidable decrease in my already limited work hours for an extended period of time, have simply put a financial strain on us. Strain or intense, diamond forming pressure (potato,potatoe), either of these would fit the bill. I have gone from setting financial goals of saving a certain amount to a goal of simply having a certain amount left in savings by the end of the year. We cannot save right now, we cannot keep from pulling from savings. It feels a little like drowning, and I am simply trying to minimize the damage.

Jason and I are considering whether I should go back to work full-time. Taking out of consideration the time I would be losing with Lane, which would completely break my heart, I really do not know how we would manage without having a support system of people to help when he gets sick (which is often), or the daycare is closed.  The sad part of this is that we have lived here for a very long time, and still do not have this support system. Knowing how complicated and sad me going back to work full-time would be, it is quite possibly becoming the only option.

We are praying. I know God has this, and that lessons will be learned, faith will be built, and we will be okay. Sometimes knowing this, and having faith, does not make the struggle any easier though.

Perspective

I am a worrier by nature. I have had a few mild anxiety attacks in my life. I tend towards high-strung. I will over dramatize a situation for a short time, but usually I can get back to calm fairly quickly.

I work with people who have serious mental illness. I have always thought I understood their anxiety, their depression, etc. I sometimes want to fix them by giving them coping techniques that work for me. I want them to just "get it", sometimes really, secretly meaning "just get over it".  I feel like this should be easy, if they just do it.

God has a way of giving me perspective though, and that is by giving me a chance to experience what a day in their lives may feel like.

Two weeks ago I had a mammogram, the welcome to 40 gift from my doctor, which came with a lecture about the dangers of trying to conceive another child at my age. Yes, I will be changing doctors. One week later, I get the dreaded call that says " we need more tests", which could mean the pics they took were not clear, or "you have cancer". They proceeded to schedule me for these tests at their earliest opening 10 days later!!!!!! Ten days of wondering, picturing the best and worst case scenarios, fearing I will not get to see my baby grow up, wondering if I will lose my breasts, wondering if my dreams of conceiving another baby are truly gone, and so on. I still have not had that test. The worry, fear and trying to cope through it are making me feel like I am losing my mind. I seriously vacillate between wanting to live each moment I do not know the outcome in blissful unawareness and wanting to crawl under the covers and cry until the day I go in for my test. I feel  "crazy". I know that this will end once the test results are read, good or bad, because for me the unknown is scarier than the known. I can gear up for battle if I know there is a battle to fight. Of course, I am truly hoping to hear there is no cancer and I have worried myself sick for nothing.

 I will say that I have learned an invaluable lesson out of this, and that is to be more understanding, patient and kind to those I work with. Although I cannot truly understand what some of my clients go though, never seeing an end in sight for their symptoms, I now feel like I have a better understanding of the challenges they face. God has a way of bringing good from each situation, if we are open to receiving it.

And, if you are reading this and can say a prayer for me that would be great.

Finding Motivation (or Not)

I have become far more efficient these days. It still amazes me how much more of a home “manager” I am today, then I was when I was single, or even when Jason and I first got married. I mean seriously, the house was ALWAYS a disaster (except for the very, very rare occasion I got a wild hair to clean it), I could not make it to work with my hair done and makeup on, and I was rarely on time to well, anywhere. I was a mess!!!

Now my life looks much different. Our house is not spotless, but is definitely drop-in company ready 90% of the time. I have a morning routine that includes putting makeup on down to a tee, and can have Lane and I out the door in less than in hour, with both of us completely ready for the day.  Many things have contributed to this. One was the absolutely need to be more together when I had Lane, because he brought a beautiful chaos to our life that made me CRAVE the routine of it all. Then came reading numerous blogs, many teary jags with me asking why EVERYONE had it together and I could not do anything (I tend to be a bit of a drama queen when I am in a funk), and a ton of trial and error.

But, the biggest battle I continue to fight is finding the motivation to keep doing the day-to-day mundane tasks that make life run smoother. I have one epiphany like way I find motivation, and that was reminding myself why I was doing the task. For example, Why am I going to work? To make  money, to get out of debt and to have money to do fun activities with my guys. Why am I doing the dishes? Because it means Jason does not have to come home to a messy kitchen, he does not have to do them, and we have plates to eat off of for the dinner that Jason will cook, since I still can’t/don’t. I can find good, motivating reasons for all of the tasks on my “to do list”. If I cannot find them, then I do not make time for the activity. Answering the why of it all, typically gets me off my innately lazy butt and I do the mundane, but necessary tasks.

But, this does not always work for me, as I have a huge, immeasurable propensity to be so lazy!!! So today, I had less of an epiphany moment, but an equally motivating moment when I realized that sometimes I have to “just do it”, as the famous Nike Slogan goes. I have to remember that I will not always be able to feel excited about completing the tasks. Sometimes the why of it all does not get me moving, and I just have to get up and do. So then I got up and well, wrote this blog, because avoidance (you know choosing a less important, more fun, but equally productive activity over the essential activity) is still a pretty big issue I need to tackle. Of course I will leave that for another day (says my inner procrastinator), because I really only feel equipped to take on one character flaw at a time.

What if....

I tend not to waste time on “What If’s” anymore. It seems rather pointless, to ruminate on how my life would have been if I had not wasted time in dead end jobs, relationships, or making extremely poor financial choices. I now realize that although there are many things I regret in life, rather than spending time focusing on the “what if”, my time and energy are much better spent focusing on solutions. And although the following sentence sounds extremely off topic; I really am not a fan of science fiction books, movies, etc. So when a question/idea popped in my head the other day that focused both on asking “what if” and had a hypothetical, sci-fi movie feel, I did not allow myself to think about it too hard. But, this question has popped back into my head multiple times over the last few days. I have realized that the answer to the question could have real life applications, so I figured, why not spend a little time pondering this internal query.

WHAT IF WE WERE ONLY GIVEN A CERTAIN NUMBER OF WORDS TO USE OUR ENTIRE LIFE?

What if, after we reached a certain age of accountability (let’s say 16 years old), we were only given 10 billion words to use, either written or spoken, and then our life ended.

So if we wanted to live to be 70, that would leave us 54 years that we would have to use our words wisely. That would equal approximately 185,185,185 words a year, 507,357 a day, which only breaks down to 28,186 an hour (based on 18 hours of awake time). If you wanted to live 10-30 more years, this would significantly reduce the words you could use. (I am pretty sure my math is flawed, but you get the jest).

How would we want to use our words if we knew each one we spoke took time off of our life? Would we use them to condemn the mother whose child climbed into the gorilla cage, or to condemn others that supported her? Would we allow ourselves to rant about situations completely out of our control? Would we spend time telling our children no or lecturing, when a simple explanation would suffice? Would we spend time complaining about what we did not have? Would we waste time talking bad about others, just because they do not make the same choices we do? What words would we realize are unnecessary and unfruitful? What words would we determine were unnecessary, such as curse words and name calling? What jobs would no longer exist, such as journalism, the music industry, etc. Social media would most likely not exist, because we would not want to waste our words interacting via the internet, especially regarding things that did not necessarily matter to us personally.

On the flip side, what words would we want to use more of? I tend to think I would want to “waste” my words telling others I love them, encouraging them, leading them to Christ, teaching, uplifting, etc. Maybe this is why these are the things the Bible says to focus on. I would want to teach my child to speak moderately, kindly and wisely. I would want him to realize the impact of his words, so that once his words impacted the length of his life he would know the best way to use them. I would want to use my words planning adventures and expressing joy in my life.

I acknowledge that this concept leads to a lot of pointless questions, and I am very grateful this is hypothetical and not a fact of my life. I know that if this concept was true it would lead to some people becoming hermits, just to add years to their lives, while others lives would be shortened, because they simply could not contain their words. I also recognize that so much of the life we appreciate in America is built on words, opinions and debates. I would seriously miss reading novels, magazine articles and listening to music, since a wide variety of these would most likely not exist. But, spending time thinking about this, has made me think more about the importance of the words I speak, and I am hoping to frame more of my conversations with this question, knowing that the words I speak that are uplifting are not wasted words, while many of the other words I speak in a day (complaints, talking rather than listening to others, rants, etc.) have no real purpose. Of course, even if this concept were true, there are probably days that I would still feel these “wasted” words were necessary, but I am betting this would happen a lot less often.

By the way, if I only had a certain number of words to use I would have just “wasted” about 820 of them on this blog post….

P.S. My husband just pointed out that there was a movie made a few years ago based on this exact concept, which I actually remember seeing now, so apparently this is not an original thought at all.

 

 

Secondary Infertility Sucks Too

I have written about this before, and in reality most of the time I am okay with the fact we have not been able to conceive after Lane. I wish it was different, but I feel so blessed to have Lane that the sadness ebbs and flows rather than invading every moment of my life like it did the first time I waited for the dream of motherhood to be realized. But then there is that moment that I am forced to sit in the waiting room of labor and delivery for work, in the hospital my sweet boy was born four years ago, watching new mothers and babies pass by, observing young children sporting Big Brother and Sister shirts, and hearing the excitement in the voices of the families anxiously awaiting news of the newest member of their family, that tears sneak up on me, surprising me as they threaten to pour down my face. It was so obvious that I had to make a lame excuse to my pregnant client, about the tears and emotion I was experiencing, to cover the pain. I suspect these emotional surprise bombs will continue for awhile, as I become increasingly aware that the window for me to conceive is very small, and that this hope of Lane having a younger brother or sister will soon end completely for me. For me, I know I am blessed to have one beautiful child and I would never compare my sadness to the pain of a person longing to be a parent to their first child, or one grieving multiple losses without the joy of getting to parent even one of the babies they carried for whatever amount of time they were given with them, but as in many things in life it does not make my pain any less real. And for what it is worth to the mama that may come across this, that almost feels guilty for being sad over secondary fertility, I get it! Please hear me when I say (as much for me as I say it for you), that although it may be a different type of pain, how we feel and react is okay, because  secondary infertility sucks too!

Our "Baby" Story

This is "Baby" also known as Bunky Monkey.

He joined our family before Lane did. Actually, we bought him the day we had our first ultrasound, as a celebration and I think subconsciously I needed something tangible to hold on to through those long months. He was our sweet boy's first gift, and became lovingly known as "Bunky". I held on to Bunky for dear life during the time I started spotting and was afraid we were losing our baby, after being told I had gestational diabetes and when I was referred to a high risk specialist. As embarrassing as it is for an adult to admit, I cuddled him many days and nights until I had my boy to cuddle. 

In the almost four years since my boy has been adventuring through this life with us, Bunky has been by his side, not continuously, as he could often be found under a bed, under a couch, or other dark, scary place, where sometimes forgotten toys reside. In actuality, he was by  Lane's side because mommy put him there a lot of times, until about a year ago. That was when Lane decided he wanted us to have a baby. After we explained that we could not just make that happen, he decided Bunky was his " Baby", and Baby became a more significant part of his life.

Then Baby had to be buckled in the car with us.

He had to go to daycare, in the infant class, where they lovingly cared for him while Lane was in his big boy class. Lane had a special bed for him, that he put right beside his bed (when he isn't in Lane's bed). 

He has been to the park many times, to Amazement Square, on road trips, on a cross-country flight, to the beach and most recently to North Carolina for a birthday party. 

It wasn't until 9 days later that Lane decided he wanted to take Baby to school with him, prompting a rushed search for the missing Baby, who was nowhere to be found. After searching some more before I went to work, I quickly realized the last time I remembered seeing baby was when we were in NC. I called my sister who checked her house to no avail, then she called the hotel for me to see if they had found it. When the answer was no, I began to panic a little, and realize I was possibly more heartbroken then my little guy was going to be over the loss. Until I remembered that Lane wanted Baby to come with him to eat a doughnut at Krispy Kreme before we headed back.

I remembered telling him Baby would get too sticky eating a doughnut, seeing this for the ploy it most definitely was, to get an extra doughnut. He decided Baby could "watch", so he came in with us. And, my stomach knotted when I realized that was the last time I remembered seeing Baby. After a frantic Google search to figure out where the heck the Krispy Kreme was located, a slightly ridiculous call asking the poor girl who answered the phone if they by any chance had found a monkey there, an overly ecstatic response when she said they actually did have it, a special trip by Lane's uncle to go pick it up, an elaborate explanation about the great adventure Baby had been on to my (at this point) very upset, "I can't live one more minute without Baby" son, a special trip by my super awesome sister to ship Baby back to us, he came home! 

And he has barely left my little guy's side since.

A very long ramble for no particular reason

I seem to be writing a lot more lately, and I think I really have so much more to say these days. I think this is partially a part of getting older. Over the past few weeks, I have become more self-assured, self-aware and happy with who I am as a person, and I seem to just want to share it. Again I partially contribute this to the process of aging. As you get older, you realize what really matters to you. At least this is true for me. You also realize that other people’s opinions of you and of what you believe matter very little. In my life, I have narrowed down what matters most to me to two categories. The actual and true first, most important aspect of my life is simply knowing that I am joined in true relationship with Christ. I used to always place this first, because it was what was expected of any good, Christian woman. Now I mean it. This relationship is the reason I have all else in my life. My relationship with Christ dictates who I am, what I pursue and how I live, every day. I fail Christ a lot, but His grace has never failed me.

Secondly, I need to know that I am providing a loving, nurturing home (not always the cleanest or most organized, but safe, enjoyable, fun home) for my husband and son. I need to be spending time building these relationships, because these are the ones that matter the most.

In addition to the top two absolutely necessary parts of my life, I have a few other pursuits that ultimately bring me peace and joy. One of these, is that I need to know that I have travel plans in place. I love to travel. Travel is important to me, and has often taken a backseat in my life. Jason and I are finding that we want this to be a very important part of our life. We want Lane to see other places, have experiences that take away his fears of the unknown, gain a greater understanding and admiration for different cultures and to cultivate a love of travel as well. We want to give him the world, and in my opinion we can do this best by giving him adventures and experiences over material possessions. I remember very few toys I received as a child, but I remember the camping trips, our trip to Arizona when I was a child, our cross-country road trip moving from Washington to Virginia, driving around on random backroads on a Saturday with a roadside picnic, hiking, spending the night in a hotel where my grandparents were managers, and so on. We were not wealthy, but we had plenty of toys, yet these adventures are hands-down my favorite memories.

Another desire and avid pursuit for me is that I do have a somewhat clean, somewhat organized living environment. This has always been how I function best, but only recently have I realized the role a chaotic living environment plays in my moods and therefore my behaviors. I now keep up with our home much better, and even my husband has noted I am far more stable these days (read: not a crazy, frantic, stressed out, yelling, crying mess…at least not most of the time).

I need and want financial security. We are still working on this one.

I need and want friends. But the true kind. I went off Facebook for almost a year and a half. It was amazing and necessary. At the time it hurt too much to see who was spending time with who, who was not inviting me to a get together, who was having more fun than me, who’s life seemed perfectly put together, etc., and I simply could not keep comparing myself. I was becoming jealous, miserable and felt all alone in the world. Most surprisingly, shrinking my world to the people that matter the most, my truest friends (mostly my husband and sister) brought far less loneliness and far more clarification of what I want out of friendships. I reactivated my Facebook account today, only because I was ready. I am ready to reconnect with people, but I am no longer looking to compare myself, or needing their validation. True friendship is not a “like” on Facebook, or how many comments people make on a post, it is the phone calls and texts, the laughter over coffee, the shared dreams and the pleasure of knowing that true friends will always be there.

I need to be making a difference. I seek every day to show other’s Christ’s love and whenever possible to let people know they are loved and cared about. I also want to help those struggling through many difficulties, whether it is poverty, mental illness, feelings of failure, exhaustion, helplessness, grief, etc., however I can. I still think I can change the world. I still believe it is my job to make a mark on the world and to leave it a better place. Every day is an opportunity to help improve someone’s life, to teach my child how to love the very best he can, to encourage the world-changers around me, and so on and so on.

While there will always be various dreams, goals and hopes guiding my choices and what I seek to accomplish, I now know who I am and what truly matters to me. At times, I am almost ashamed that it took me this long to narrow down my core values and to find what I need most to be happy. I am even somewhat embarrassed that it took opting out of Facebook for a year and a half to drown out the noise and truly hear myself think, leading to me finding my voice again (which I guess is why I am writing so much these days), but then I realize, some people never really find their purpose, simply letting life toss them here and there, so I guess taking 40 years to do this is not the worst case scenario. It feels freeing and amazing to finally feel like I know who I am. To weed out the lesser things, especially when life feels out of control, as it will often do, because I now know if what I am pursuing does not fit under one of the above, then it will not get top billing in my life.

I dreaded 40, but I am not going to lie, I am kind of digging it these days J

 

The #1 Reason I Love My Husband

I love my husband for a million reasons, but I have to say that quite possibly the biggest reason I love him is that he does the weekly grocery shopping. Every week. He does not like to do it anymore than I do, but he does it, for me, out of love for me. It's that act of sacrificial love, along with the many, many others he does every day that make me fall in love with him again and again!

Confession Time

"Confession is good for the soul". We have probably all heard this saying at one time in our lives, and if you are confessing your sins to Christ, this is abundantly true. I also believe that letting others know our faults and failures is also not only a sweet release, but can place a salve on someone else's broken spirit, or serve as an inspiration as they struggle.

So here is my mommy confession, which to some may seem comical, while others would be mortified. For about 5 months I have allowed the television to babysit my child for hours (sometimes 4-5 a day). This goes against my core parenting beliefs and all the education I have received. I know the dangers. I have complained about other people doing it. That being said, it was easy and happened almost without me realizing it. It started when we finally got satellite last November, because I felt we needed some educational shows for Lane and Christmas movies for me :) He quickly found new shows that he loved, and for the first time ever he was totally in to watching a show from beginning to end. I was able to actually clean house, lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling, talk on the phone without interruption, and so on, while he did this. Then he was so excited by a couple shows he would ask for more and rather than establishing limits from the beginning, I figured "oh why not". Plus it gave me more time to complete tasks around the house. 

I quickly realized he was spending too much time watching TV, and tried to rein it in, but holidays, sickness, my laziness, and vacation would derail my best laid plans. Until this week, when I decided to buckle down and be the parent I know I am capable of being. So he now has limits to his TV time, and you know what, sure he balked initially at some of the restrictions, and I had to be careful to make sure he did not see these limits as a punishment of some kind, but he seemed better than okay with them. He actually seemed to find his voice again. He had tons of energy. He has been more imaginative. He hasn't rushed through meals. He hasn't whined about not having more TV. He has played with the room full of toys again. He has actually slept better. He has asked us to play more, which sometimes feels like a distraction, but it is truly the greatest investment we can make with our time. And, the greatest reward from this was last night, as he was laying in bed he tells me that he loves me and Daddy " much more than any other people". Although he has always loved us, less TV meant more one on one time, us being more creative with him and him knowing that he mattered to us, which most assuredly led to the overflow of love from him, which made all the extra "work" this week so worth it!!!!!

Thankfully, those few months probably did not do too much harm, but seeing the vibrant, awesomeness of my boy this week makes me feel bad I wasted the preceding months, and will serve as a reminder not to backslide on the restrictions again, just to make my life simpler.

Super Mommy (I Am Not)

This week I have alternately been my child's hero and broke his heart. It's amazing how humbling parenting can be, and how often as a mom I beg God to extend His grace to my child and me, to cover over some of my seemingly epic mistakes. But for purposes of memorialization for those times I screw up royally, I wanted to write about those moments that seemingly made me my child's hero this week.

The first one was when he came running into the bathroom, just as I had started the water and gotten in the shower. He was terrified, because there was "a spider" in his toy box. I understand my child's fear of bugs, since I am almost positive it originated from my over the top reactions to unexpectedly seeing a bug in my house, so I jumped out of the shower and bravely took the Lysol and sprayed the life right out of a bug that was not a spider, but was quite gross and huge(ish). Afterwards, I could see the adoration radiating from his eyes and hear it from his voice, as he thanked me without being prompted (kind of a miracle in itself)!

The second time I felt like his hero was when he realized that mommy wore the necklace and earrings that he bought, with his own money (completely his idea) for me, for my birthday. Although the necklace and earrings may not be my usual style, the fact that it says "Mom", he picked it out, spent his own money on it, and he wanted me to have it, make it beyond special. What he does not know is that every time I touched it today I thought of him, just like every time I look at my wedding band I think of my husband. And, the look in his eyes when he saw me wearing it was priceless. Later as I passed him in the hallway at daycare (me working, him playing), he told me that he "never wants to leave me" and that "he misses me all the time". And for just a minute, I felt like a "Super Mommy". Although I know that I am not always a super hero in his eyes, I cherish the moments that I can be.

This boy and his daddy have my heart!!!

I am 40

Well to be honest I will be 40 in an hour. But, those two words attached to that particular number, have stirred up a lot of angst these past few weeks. Angst I could laugh off and ignore, until the last hours of my 30's quickly fade. I do not feel old until I say my age, because 40 is, well, old. I have been on this earth 4 decades. I truly do remember the "good old days" before everyone had a computer in their hand, heck nobody even had computers in their homes when I was a child. I remember quieter, safer times where kids left to play in the morning and came home at dinnertime, without their parents worrying about them. Where families had dinner at the table, and when arcade games were the only video games. I still remember the first Nintendo. I watched the first "Full House" on its first run. I am that kind of old.

But, I am still young as well. I still feel like the world is my oyster. That I can and will accomplish anything I choose. I still have the possibility of having another baby, a slim one, but still the hope. I still feel passion for my husband, and butterflies when we go on the rare date. I still have many years ahead to raise a young child, to see light in his eyes and to watch him discover who he is and to guide him on his journey through the short decades of his life. I am still young enough to have older people say "oh, you're still young...." I still have good health and the ability to do all that I dream. I feel young at heart, and mostly in body.

I am hopefully not yet to the middle of this crazy, amazing roller coaster of a life. A life where I have learned many valuable lessons about loving God, myself and others. I am more self-aware, self-assured and happy in this season of my life than I have ever been.  So, after a few hours of bemoaning "my descent into oblivion" (yep, these were the exact words I spoke to my husband), I am now ready to decree, with a little less angst and a little more perspective  "I am 40" (in 39 minutes, let's not rush it). And I have to add I am so very, very blessed.

"You will never sleep again"

You know, one of the many pieces of parenting "advice" or warnings I either did not believe or chose to ignore, was that I should sleep now (while pregnant...seriously what woman sleeps well while she is pregnant), because I would never sleep again. And, I laughed, every time. Mostly because I tend to deal with insomnia more often than not, so I am kind of used to not sleeping, and because I figured after a few months of newborn all-nighters, my sleep schedule would be back to normal. The beauty of it is that we were blessed with a good sleeper for the most part. I may have even laughed again, after Lane started sleeping through the night, at all the doomsday warnings of never sleeping again. Of course having only one child does make sleep more likely than having multiple children on different sleep schedules does (which means my sister, who has 3 children one of which is still an infant, really NEVER gets a full night's sleep). But then your child gets sick and after a couple nights of sleeping on the air mattress in his room, listening to him having difficulty breathing, whimpering and calling for mommy each hour, you are no longer laughing at the naysayers, but instead feeling the need to call every pregnant woman you know to warn her that she needs to sleep while she can, because she will NEVER sleep again!

***This post is mostly said in jest, since I know I will in fact sleep again (never a whole night though -see the insomnia reference, but mostly because my bladder seems to find joy in being most active between 10 PM and 4:45 am).

***I do recognize that some mamas out there really cannot remember the last good night sleep they had, and that my little whinefest will seem trivial and a little like bragging all at once. Please know I am mostly trying to make light of a situation where  I, a natural worrier, am very worried about how sick my little guy is :( I also highly respect and even envy you for those sleepless nights.

Time and a child have definitely changed me

When I was a teenager and young adult, I was unbelievably shy, as in I would blush when talking to my family at the dinner table kind of shy. I still tend to be a wallflower and thought I was easily embarrassed until today. After today I can say without a doubt that it is much harder to embarrass me, well I was embarrassed, but am not so easily deterred or affected by my embarrassment.

It started with realizing Lane's pants were on backwards while we were at a car lot. Not an unusual occurrence actually, but bears mentioning for the remainder of the story. I told him I would change them around when we got to Old Navy, my favorite clothing store. As we are walking into Old Navy, it somehow does not register that he is carrying a large cup of milk from the coffee stand. We walk through the doors and within 30  seconds he drops the entire cup all over the floor. My brain processes this in slow motion as the white fluid proceeds to splatter across the shiny concrete floor, and I stand there with my mouth gaping open. Jason promptly takes Lane out of the store, while I help the poor guy working there clean up the mess with 100 small paper towels, presumably from the bathroom, making excuses and joking that this would have been far less embarrassing at Walmart. The part that shocked me most was that I proceeded to shop for 30 minutes, visited with a friend, and tried clothes on, instead of leaving immediately. The old me would have left and never, ever gone back. The "new" me shopped and fully intends to go back in April to use my $10 off coupon.

But the story gets better. When I leave I go to meet Jason and Lane at another store,  where I finally realize Lane is still wearing his pants backwards. So we go to the bathroom to change him and we both proceed to walk in on a woman doing her business in the bathroom stall. Granted it was more her fault for not locking the door, but it was just the icing on the cake from everything else. Again though, I was amazed at my fortitude as I made my apologies, proceeded to change Lane's pants around and go through an unusually quiet checkout line with a very rambunctious, loud child. After that though, we decided it was not worth taking another chance out in public and went home.

Thankfully there are no pics to accommodate this post.

TGIF

I am so glad it is Friday, but thought it would be fun to recap some moments that brought me laughs or made me happy this week:

 These cakes are a little slice of heaven for a woman who craves cinnamon rolls and is on a diet!

This little guy and I only walked about 3/4 of a mile in an hour, but it was one of the best hours of the whole week!

Finding this when I opened my computer to finish paperwork very early Tuesday morning! My husband still makes my heart skip a beat!

Coffee rarely needs any explanation as to why it makes me happy, but a friend bought this one for me today, which made my day much brighter.

Anyone one up for a little "Tinkle, Tinkle Little Star"?!?!?!?

And then there are the moments that did not make it in a picture, but are worth remembering, such as Lane and I taking a break from the hectic morning routine to cuddle this morning right before walking out the door, seeing a very light dusting of snow this morning and knowing it is hopefully the last snow before spring, talking to my sister on the phone about our kids antics and dreaming wild and crazy dreams with my husband.

Now come on weekend!!!

I Think I Will Keep My Day (And Night) Job

I am not a good cook, nor am I a natural born housekeeper. I am not extremely organized. I am lazy to a fault. I am none of the things that I believe make a good wife and mother. I am rarely patient. I do not handle sickness and/or weakness well. I am easily frustrated. I fly off the handle over little things and make flippant, cold comments without batting an eyelash, while my husband truly takes it from me without retaliating. I often feel like I am failing at all the important aspects of motherhood and being a wife.

But, it is also my favorite part of my life. I LOVE being Jason's wife. I LOVE being Lane's mom. I love my life, as it is, with all of it's simple, beautiful, albeit at times frustrating moments. I feel so blessed that God gave me these two amazing people to love and care for. I am finding joy in cleaning my house, a desire to learn to cook for my guys, a joy in managing our finances and even joy in getting off my butt to cater to the youngest among us many, many needs and whims. Because this is my real "job" in life. The part-time jobs I do to help us financially, are insignificant in comparison and do not get my first priority like jobs used to. Sure there are going to be many things I will do in my life that may be deemed important, tasks that may even make me seem more important to others, but short of maintaining a true relationship with God, I do believe wholeheartedly that loving, serving and caring for them is my most important "job", as well as my greatest gift.

So although I am not what I deem good at the job, and although I will always be striving to do it better, I am so glad that I get to do this everyday (and night). So even though I may not be perfect at this job, I will gladly keep my day (and night) job!

The Hurt I Try To Ignore

Several times over the last couple weeks I have been told in one way or another that Lane needs, deserves or should have a sibling. I laugh, and make some flippant remark, a few times walking away so I don't cry, or say words that either reveal too much, or worse say words that may hurt them. For over two years I have longed to have another baby. For some people making a baby is easy, even accidental. But for us, it has been a struggle. We waited almost two years and suffered a miscarriage before Lane came into our lives. We have tried longer this time.

There are distinct differences between the first struggle and this one. The first time I was consumed with fear that I would never be a mother, doubts, and anger. This time, I know I am blessed to have one beautiful, amazing child. I am a mother. This pain is a dull ache, compared to the piercing pain of the first time, but it is still there. At times it hurts worse than others, especially when my little guy pretends his stuffed animal is a baby, because he wants us to have one, or when his "best friend" is getting ready to have a sibling, making him the only child in his class who is an only child. It's the hurt I hide each month when my body confirms that I am not pregnant. It's the hurt I try to bury when I see a tired mom of multiple children, and know deep down that I wish it was me. But, thankfully this time, I have learned not to let the hurt consume me, destroying the joy in spending each day with my husband and son. I don't let the pain overwhelm me. I truly do trust in God's timing and sovereignty. But, sometimes it still hurts a little too much and for a short tume becomes the hurt I cannot ignore.