In the middle of the night...

That one night when we hardly slept for no good or apparent reason? Yeah, that was LAST night. (this post is way too long to reflect the 18-hour night we just endured)

6:59 pm: Toddler was sleepy after bath, rubbing eyes and putting blankie over face. Took two books and about two minutes to get zzzzz's. Mommy then sits on sofa to work on her words with friends games.

7:14 pm: Mommy showers for the night and settles into the sofa for some quiet while Daddy works on his online classes.

7:40 pm: Toddler starts screaming like it's the end of the known world. "Might have a poo..." Mommy thinks. Gives him a few minutes to settle. He doesn't settle. Mommy goes in.
Todder: "Hi." Nonchalantly. Standing up. Still smells like baby powder. Seemingly just wants to chat. Shows me toys. Asks (ironically?) for her to read him his potty book. Mommy refuses. Turns off light, rocks, and he is out in moments.

11:30 pm: Shoot. Mommy and Daddy meant to get to bed earlier. What happened? Mommy recounts details of potty book to Daddy as a goodnight story.

after midnight: Parents finally asleep.

1:30 am: Toddler starts screaming like it's the end of the known world. "Might have a poo..." Mommy thinks. Daddy volunteers to see about it. Screaming continues while we wait to see if he can settle down on his own. Mommy slides out of bed.

In the hallway, she sees a kitchen light turning off and on intermittently. Weird. Jerod never leaves lights on. Never. At first she thinks it's lightning, then maybe car headlights. But neither of those fit the bill.

Mommy: "Hon. There's a weird light flickering in the kitchen. Did you leave a light on?"

Daddy: "I don't think so."

Mommy tinkles and goes in to see about toddler. No poo. "May as well change him since we're all up. Maybe he'll sleep later in the morning if he isn't soaked," she thinks.

Daddy reports that the light over the sink blinked once and then was fine. Odd. It was definitely going off and on. At this point, toddler on the changing table says aloud, "Scary."

Daddy feels uneasy. Mommy rocks toddler for a solid ten minutes trying to determine what woke him up. He is happy as a clam in her lap and falls asleep swiftly. Pops his head up after a few minutes, "Shirt. Mommy shirt." Points to Mommy's shirt. This gets him chatting about music. Mommy turns on soft music. "I just want to go to bed," she thinks. "Please. Let. Me. Sleep."

Toddler again asks for potty book. Mommy turns off light and hopes for the music to do its trick. Toddler falls asleep. In transit to the crib, full-on wake up, screaming, standing...Mommy leaves the room to let him sort it out. All known variables have been addressed.

"Mommmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Toddler screams.

Daddy and Mommy discuss weirdness of the light. Now they're both uneasy. Toddler still screaming. Everything is weird in the middle of the night.

1:52 am: Mommy returns for one more round of rocking chair. Toddler easily falls asleep but oddly clings to her like a tiny monkey when she tries to return him to crib at 2:10 am.

Attempting sleep. Moments of quiet.

Toddler is sitting up in bed, visual courtesy of video monitor. Mommy is watching monitor to see if he lies down. Oddly, while watching, bleary-eyed, the monitor says "Medium Frequency" and then "NO SIGNAL." Ugh. Daddy thinks this is weird. Neither of us has ever seen this message.

Toddler still screaming.

2:30 am: Daddy brings toddler to parents' bed.
2:31 am
Toddler: "Dark. Mommy's bed....night night Mommy." Mommy hopes for dreams.

2:34 am: Toddler pops up. "Dark....pillow. Daddy's pillow? Mommy's pillow. Night night." Mommy's insane optimism. "Maybe he means it," she thinks. What could be better than sleeping between your parents?

2:36 am: Toddler adjusts positions seemingly trying to get comfortable for a solid 15 minutes. Some of the positions he tries are elbows-in-Mommy's-ribcage and on her head. Mommy has the head-end. Daddy must have been dealing with the kickers.

Toddler notices alarm clock. "One!" He says proudly. "I'm thinking it said TWO, baby. I remember a TWO. Do you know what TWO means at the beginning? It's time for night-night. Night-night, sweet baby." Toddler goes face-first to mattress. Mommy covers up alarm clock with a stuffed animal monkey. Mommy hopes for dreams.

Toddler pops up. Notices alarm clock on the other side. "Nine."
Mommy: "Cover that up."
Daddy: "Working on it."
Mommy: "Night-night, Shepard," she says with firmness and meaning.

Sounds of toddler sleep-breath. Mommy tries to get comfortable. Puts hand on toddler to see where he is. Why is Daddy's arm right there? Daddy tries to dislodge arm from under 30-lb. toddler. Toddler awakens. Again readjusts to get comfortable for a solid ten minutes. Squishes Mommy's chest and pulls her hair.

3 - 4 am: toddler moves around about every minute. Several times landing on Mommy's back or head and seemingly diving toward the edge of the bed. Mommy sighs audibly. Daddy sighs audibly.

Daddy: "what should we do?"
Mommy: "take him back to his bed."

Sometime around 4, but not sure because there's a monkey covering up her clock:
Daddy takes toddler back to his bed. Rocks him for 15 minutes. Gets him good and asleep. Mommy finally starts to drift off. Toddler will not go in crib. Screams. Daddy brings him back to bed.

Daddy: "He won't get in his crib. What should we do?"
Mommy: "Let him cry. I have to get some sleep." Mommy was callused and exhausted.

Daddy: "I won't be able to sleep if he's in there crying." Daddy brings him back to bed. Daddy is the nice one. The ratio between lack of sleep and Mommy's lack of sweetness is concurrent and direct.

Toddler kind of settles long enough for Mommy to have a paranoid dream about four people busting up into her house at 4 a.m. and acting strangely. Then she dreams of a violent thunderstorm outside, and a tree crashes through their bedroom. She takes the toddler to the nursery, and a tree crashes into the nursery, grazing Daddy's head. Next, she discovers that the people who visited earlier left magnetic nametags on her chairs that had bugs for listening embedded in them. She realizes they had been there under false pretenses. Daddy seems unconcerned. People show up on her doorstep again. She goes Georgia-hood-rat on them and starts yelling and hitting. They barge in anyway. Child won't sleep in the dream. They are in her guest room, bedrooms, and are interacting with her kid. Uncool, weird people.

Oh wait. Child is still crawling on her back and head and ribcage in real life. Perhaps there is some dozing between 5 - 6:15 am. Light dozing. And sweating because she's afraid to move.

6:15 am: Toddler moves to the foot of the bed and seems to get comfortable. Mommy laments that alarm is set for 6:45 am. Moves monkey and pushes alarm forward five minutes. Like that will help.

6:36: Toddler awakens. Tries to slide off side of bed. Mommy catches him with her feet and slides him back up. "Ten more minutes, baby. Please." She closes her eyes and hopes. Not for dreams, but for a magical dose of rest.

6:38: Toddler is ready to greet the sun.

6:40: Mommy finds sippy cup and Mickey Mouse on DVR. Makes strong coffee. Attempts to curl hair. Cannot get into any conceivable rhythm for getting ready. Has to be at work early today of all days.

7:30 am: Toddler is refusing all foods except four puffs and half of a graham cracker.

Hello, Wednesday. I've spent so much time with you already.

If you happen by my desk, and don't see me; I'm underneath, dreaming about a toddler climbing on me like a jungle gym in the night.

Mexican for Mother's Day

We were pulling out of church, full of encouragement and thoughts on friendship. Our sleepy little boy in the backseat, already saying, "All done." Um. We have a 30-minute ride, son. You'll have to get comfy. Being the one named Mommy, I got to pick the lunch spot. I opted for the very close and recently discovered Mexican dive near church, Miguel's. If you saw this place, you'd probably keep driving. It looks like it's attached to a sketchy motel by interstate. But their fajitas are fantastic. And they have an "A" rating.
There we are, and within 30 seconds of entering, Shepard knocks over the basket of tortilla chips. But within moments, we have a Mother's Day miracle! I show him for the 100th time how to drink from a straw (even though he has his own sippy cup, he really loves to play with straws). He takes the drink from me and promptly drinks through the straw! This endeavor is a leap away from last week's Sunday lunch that ended up in a full clothes-change in the Showmars bathroom. (For him, not me) Last week's sippy cup got left behind at the church, so we were trying to help him drink milk from a styrofoam cup. Milk-bath.
Fast-forward to Miguel's. I was so excited. I had started to worry that Shepard would be in his first day of college telling his classmates that the one distinguishing thing about him is that he never learned to drink from a straw.
 Our massive plates of fajitas came, as did Shepard's rice and grilled chicken. "RICE!" That kid loves some rice. As is usually the case, about half the rice makes it to his mouth, and the other half ends up in his lap and on the booster seat. We have at least graduated from the "everything on the floor" phase. As he started poaching the rice off my plate, and I had a teeny moment of "hold up! It's my Mother's Day lunch! Calm down little poacher!" Then I realized. I am his mommy. I am mothering him.  I helped him eat and drink (!), and I'll scoop all my rice to his plate so he can drop half of it. I will cheer him on when he tries the beans, even if he makes yucky face. I will take him outside and shake off his lunch in the bushes by the restaurant. I will carry him, draped over my shoulder in sleep, into the house after church and lunch and kiss his forehead and cover him up and pray for a good nap. I will hold him in my lap in his Elmo pajamas when I should be fixing my hair or doing the dishes...because he climbed up there and that's where he wants to be. I will tell him 298 times to sit on his bum and put him in time out despite his protestations. I will do all these over and over because one Mother's Day in the not-too-distant future, he will sit and eat something he ordered for himself and he will eat it all and ask for seconds and grow taller than I am. His long, lean body will get too long to sit in my lap, and his cartoons will turn into car shows or time alone in his room. I will tell him to sit on his bum because one day he'll be at a friend's house, and he'll need to set the example. I will always mother him to varying degrees, of course, but now I get the privilege of being hands-on. He still takes my kisses and runs to me at the end of a school-day. He still mostly fits in my lap. It takes four times longer to get ready in the morning because he still needs me. One day he'll brush his teeth and put on his own clothes. I constantly tell myself this or that phase will be over soon enough, but in truth, I'm not sure I want it to be. I'm very busy celebrating my "moments made of now."

Thank you, Shepard, for making me a Mommy. It's one of my favorite names.

All I really want for Mother's Day

 Here's the part where I should write something heartwarming about how just BEING a mom is thanks enough. It is, really. I try to squeeze joy out of each minute (even the temper tantrum minutes...that seem so long). I steal kisses and hugs and light up at the thought of all little man is learning.
I can also dream. So, for this Mother's Day, I'm going to dream a big dream...a flight of fancy, if you will.
I'm going to be real. A real working mom's wish list...

What I would love:
1. A grocery concierge. Someone to go put stuff in the cart that will magically turn into meals. I'll pay for the grocery bill. I just find grocery shopping to be overwhelming and tedious. Much like staring at a full pantry and wondering what we have to EAT. (first world problems, I know)
2. Three days in a row with no morning wake-up. No alarm, no video monitor, no lawn mowing neighbors, no worries about whether I'll get an actual shower or have to resort to a bird-bath in the sink. I just want to awaken naturally and feel the cool sheets and wonder what day it is and smell some coffee...ease out of bed and take deep breaths because there's just no hurry. I sometimes get this little delight on Saturday. It feels like a morsel of heaven.
3. For my entire house to be entirely clean, even if it's just for a day. The baseboards clean, the kitchen art free from oatmeal splatters, the assortment of toys under the sofa gone, the corners of the bathroom sparkling, the laundry done, the bills all filed...I actually don't have enough imagination to see this in my mind's eye. I can only make a list and pretend that it could ever be possible in another dimension or world.
4. One day a month to do house and crafty things. Pinterest alternately inspires me and repels me. I find lots of the posts to be actual do-able decorating ideas. I just don't know when or how to accomplish them. There are always other irons in the fire, it seems. And I have limited wall space. But there is a end table in my den calling my name. I need to figure out how to get that re-done. Soon. Perhaps I'll just take a day off and send little man to school.
5. Instant hair-dryer. This one may seem silly to you. I detest drying my hair, especially May through October. It's like willfully submitting myself to a sweatbox. My hair just doesn't air dry for myriad reasons. It must be blown out. If it could happen in 30 seconds, that would be a slice of heaven.
6. More time to volunteer. I know, I went all humanitarian on my dream list. But it would be amazing to have some time that I could dedicate to helping someone else. At this point in life, I just don't know where to fit that in on a regular basis. It's kind of all I can do to take care of the ones I have.

That's a short list, right? Not too much to ask or dream?  :) Dreaming is good for the soul.

And when I get back to my reality, my never-quite-clean house, there's this little nugget to keep me smiling:

Shiny week and half-brain syndrome

Alright, now that I've officially announced my no-new-clothes resolution (I started to type no-clothes resolution, and realized that's an ENTIRELY different affair!)...I could say I'm on week three. I haven't bought anything but "unmentionables" and some socks for Jerod so far in 2012. It is SHINY week. I started yesterday by sporting a shiny orange top, and have continued today with a shiny gold/leopard top with a black sweater. (maybe there will be pictures. no promises)
I'm hopeful I can make it all the way through the week with something shiny each day.
In other news, I have realized that I am suffering from half-brain syndrome. Do not race over to WebMD. It is not an actual disease. Except to those of you who suffer from it.
I find that now that I have a running, climbing, curious toddler, I cannot have a conversation with adults when he's in the room. I try valiantly. But most of my brain is in mommy-mode, making sure that he's not dangling from the back of the recliner by one hand. Adult conversation has become nearly impossible with anyone other than Husband, who is also suffering from half-brain syndrome. So, between the two of us, we have one whole brain and can make some gibberish into what passes for conversation. But at least he understands when I give the look that says, "can this wait until after bedtime?" Because half-brain syndrome also comes with temporary aphasia.

According to the mayo clinic online, a person with aphasia may:

• Speak in short or incomplete sentences
• Speak in sentences that don't make sense
• Speak unrecognizable words
• Not comprehend other people's conversation
• Interpret figurative language literally
• Begin to make spelling errors
• Write sentences that don't make sense

They may as well have listed, "people with small children may..."
So, bear with us. When the little man is around, we are operating on instinct to keep our offspring intact. He is thus far fairly fearless and more curious about everything with a button, plug, or climbing ledge than I ever thought possible.

The D word

As I continue to reflect on 2011 and the roller coaster that it was, the most defining thing was really discovering that I was depressed. Depressed? Shelley? I am an optimist by nature. I always think the best of people, that the situation will get better, that God has everything under control and that all things work together for our good. I love to laugh. I love to make people laugh. But there wasn't a whole lot of laughing going on for a good bit of last year.
After the birth of my son, I was on the lookout for signs of baby blues. I did the screenings, which usually consist of questions like, "Do you feel overwhelmed since the birth of your child?"
Um. Yeah. If you took your first child home from the hospital and didn't wonder what the heck you were doing MOST of the time that first month or so, raise your hand.
*waiting*
Right? Getting the hang of breastfeeding, recovering from a return trip to the hospital the week after giving birth, getting absolutely NO sleep, and trying to maintain some semblance of who I used to be about wiped me out during maternity leave. Then  I had to go back to work. I had to leave the sweet blue eyes that had depended upon me every moment of every days for over two months in the arms of a relative stranger and go sit behind a desk every day and pretend that I knew what day it was and that I was competent to earn my salary. All of this while still not really getting much sleep.
I'm not complaining...the fantastic thing about motherhood is that you have a LOT of company in those trenches. People to ask questions and help you decipher the mystery that is "baby." Just explaining that I had all the disorientation of someone who had been dropped off on another planet.
Somewhere between fall, winter, and spring, though, I became increasingly off-kilter. I would be overwhelmed with the smallest tasks. Sometimes just choosing what to eat for lunch would send me spiraling into despair, as I was also coping with a new body and less time in general. Forget trying to get dressed when nothing fit the way it used to. I cried every day. I would usually cry while rocking Shepard to sleep in the evening, lamenting the time that I didn't get to spend with him that day, wondering how he acted in his infant "class." I would either cry or fall asleep myself in the rocking chair.
I had had friends who had dealt with the baby blues. I was on the lookout for it. I just assumed that this overwhelmed feeling was a natural part of becoming a mother. How would I know? I had never been one before; and in a lot of ways, you have to learn a new way to be...putting your own needs aside to care for the littlest member of the household. And I did all of this with the most supportive husband/dad you could ask for. I can't even imagine not having had that.
It seemed that at every turn, I was not enough. I would see blogs for stay-at-home moms who had time to do artsy-crafts worthy of selling on Etsy who made their baby's organic food they had grown from seed in their backyard. Working moms with small waists who could plan the church festival, volunteer at the homeless shelter, and make sure each weekend was packed with educational and fun family time. (perhaps I exaggerate, but realize that this was what it felt like...) I was literally doing well to get Shepard dressed, remember to haul all the stuff I needed for the day, get myself showered and dressed and keep up with my job. There was no way I could incorporate a daily learning activity into our mornings or evenings. Exercise? I mean, how? I didn't have enough energy to sit with my eyes open, much less hit a treadmill.
I remember well the day that I was able to identify what was going on with me. I had just had a conversation the day before with a friend. This friend is the working mom who has a weekly meal plan and seemingly endless energy and a clean house...that I perceived as having EVERYTHING together. When she admitted that she had had a bout with depression after the second child and had to use some medication for a time, something in my spirit just clicked. The next day, as I sat at my desk crying, embarrassed to be crying at work...just wanting to run out and take my kid to the park...I saw the depression for what it was. It was something out of my control. 

It had nothing to do with my faith or lack thereof. It said nothing about my capabilities as a wife, mother or employee. 

It was a perfect storm of NO SLEEP, a dangerously low level of vitamin D (as I found out when I went to the doctor), and some baby blues.
The only was I can describe how I felt is that I was in the bottom of a deep hole. I could see the sky above, but could conceive of NO WAY to get out of the hole. It was a tired despair. I had been fantasizing about stealing Shepard and Jerod and moving to another country (France!). Thankfully, I never progressed to suicidal or anything dangerous to myself or others. But, I had lost all hope. And that is a dark, dark place to be.
Once I went to the doctor, found a medication that would help even me out, and starting in on some hefty doses of vitamin D, I began to feel human again. Oh. There is a ladder out of this hole! Sometimes we need help. Let's not continue to whisper about depression. Let's help each other through life's ups and downs. I still don't have my weekly meal plan worked out or have the gumption to make my first million selling handmade crafts; but I breathe deeply, count my blessings, and thank God for doctors. I also quit reading most of those blogs that made me feel less-than. I am all that God created me to be as long as I follow after Him.

Santa...(not for little eyes)

I've been giving Santa Claus a lot of thought over the past week or so. It's something we'll need to decide by this time next year. I must admit, I'm leaning on the side of THIS. (for real click over and read) 

My friend Michelle said it really well. I'll keep you posted. We won't be in the business of ruining anyone's fun and fantasy, but I think we're going to focus on Christ's birth and let Santa be the mascot, not the omniscient gift-giver. There's only one of those.

We'll still learn about St. Nicholas, get pictures with Santa, and watch Christmas movies. And we're still deciding. Shepard has no idea about all the hoopla this year. There is just a shiny tree in place of his toy box right now. Most of all, I want him to learn about giving, grace and obedience in the context of scripture rather than fairy tales; and we want to create meaningful traditions.

UPDATE: Since I posted this this morning, I also ran across this blog. I'm inclining more and more to eschewing the over-materialization of Christmas. More for me to think about and consider.

Christmas 2011

Working...an update and a history

If I post today, then it looks like I at least attempted during November, right? I had two friends returning to work today and leaving their precious 2-month old sweeties in the arms of another. Both were asking aloud on facebook how that was going to work. Boy, do I know that feeling. I sent up extra prayers for them. It's the hardest thing to do.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I spent months working on our budget, crunching the numbers sixteen different ways, hoping it would magically turn out that I could be a stay-at-home mom (SAHM). I had been keeping up with our budget, so I knew what we were spending in a given category. There was just no magic. We make fine livings in the teacher-pay-grade category (due to the tanking state economy, I still make the same amount as a teacher with far less experience than I have...yippeeee!). We are comfortable. But, there was just no way to come up with a spare $900-$1000 a month. That's what it would take to cover our bills and basics no matter what I cut out. We live in a VERY affordable 1200 square foot house. It's cheaper for our mortgage than most apartment rents. We drive a 10-year-old truck and a car that will paid off in the spring. We live south of Charlotte, so our gas, taxes and everything is cheaper for us than our northern neighbors. We have the free cell phones with no data plan. Most of the "toys" we have were given to us in random acts of graciousness--cameras, iPad, computer, etc. We do have cable and internet, but cutting that out would not only cut a SAHM off from the world, but would only add about $80/month to the household. Cutting professional clothing from the budget would be maybe an average of another $50-$100 month. MAYBE. I work in town, so my gas costs wouldn't really go down, as there are still errands to run. I might have more time to coupon, so possibly I could save $100/month on groceries and maybe $60/month on eating out. We don't have a home phone, take very few trips/vacations (that's what we already cut), and have been extremely blessed with TONS of second-hand stuff for Shepard.
Even if you add up the maybe-savings, at the most, you're looking at $350/month. There was nothing I could do to make up the other $650/month shortfall, aside from moving to an apartment so we don't have home upkeep expenses. But then, you have no equity, interest write-off, etc. We explored even that. Even taking childcare expense out of the equation, there was still not enough.
I can truly say I want for nothing. I can also truly say that it's sad when you have two people who have ZERO credit card debt and don't live extravagantly cannot afford to let one parent stay home.
I don't know how people do it.
But over the past year, I've learned a lot. I am not super-mom. I am just doing the best I can to juggle all of this. Most days, I feel like I'm not doing anything well. I'll never be organized enough, creative enough or anything enough...and that's ok. I let myself off the hook. Working makes me interesting, forces me to prioritize, and gives me a lunch break to run errands toddler-free. Did you know that you can buy groceries for the week, get the cold stuff put away, eat a sandwich and get back to work in less than an hour? Hmmm?
I do really well with deadlines and expectations. I'm not sure I'd be ME without a job or something to get my day going with a schedule. I thrive in the confines of external responsibility. I long for more time for my family, but God hasn't yet provided me with another alternative. HE (God) is my job. My employment is a way to provide for my family. Until we form a commune or one of us lands the CEO job somewhere, this is what we have. We're determined to make it work. God is helping us. God loves us, and certainly loves Shepard. I'm leaning on Him and counting on Him to work it all out.
If you have any leads on winning lotto numbers or posh part-time jobs, holla at me!  :)

Bliss and Chaos

I took my journey to the mountains. And it was lovely. Except for the little traffic snag through Shelby, NC, which I ameliorated with a Cookout milkshake. I have oft heard tale of the Cookout milkshake and their 40 flavor offerings. Peanut Butter Fudge kept me happy while I drudged through stop-and-go. The nice lady on my GPS took me up a road I'd never traveled, complete with farms, antique stores (I lost any extra time in that traffic. SHOOT!), barns and sprawling ranch homes. I would momentarily become whistful about living in the country and then remember that these people had little to no access to a Target or grocery store. I love rolling fields, but am just not quite ready for loss of amenities.
Where was I? Oh yes, winding up the foothills toward Marion. I arrived in Montreat just in time for a light rain. As I waited for the group to arrive, I listened to the rain dripping out of the mountain laurel and smelled the mossy-dirt smell that instantly makes me want to throw a tent in the woods and cook something yummy over an open flame. And listen for bears.
Then I met my companions for the weekend. Pretty much all of us are mothers of pre-schoolers, with a grandparent or two enlisted in helping "Dad" with childcare so we could make a quick escape. I instantly felt at home with these ladies, after we cleared up that I was not the housekeeper. I might have laughed so hard I peed. But I won't tell.
Life has been so full of hurry and the mysteries of pre-toddlerhood lately that I hardly knew what to do with myself upon being given the option to shop or sleep/read. In the instant I had to decide, sleep/read won. Boy, did it win.

The group after our killer hike up Lookout Mountain. I won't lie. I was dying. But I did it!

I loved our retreat study, Loving Well, by Beth Moore. I hate to tell my Baptist friends, but that lady is all-out Pentecostal!  :) In any case, it was so evident that she is a woman of prayer and love above all. We really dove in to divine love, loving beyond our capabilities. Anyone can love those who love them back. But we are called to love the unlovable, the unloved, our enemies and the stranger. An by love, I mostly mean "serve." That's what love really is when it comes down to it. Am I willing to give up some of my "me..." my time, my resources, my energy and spend it on "my neighbor?" Very challenging. I need to continue drinking from the loving well to love well.
Of course, wee little dude decided to really take off walking AFTER I LEFT on Friday. I mean, I was home until 2:30 pm! Daddy and Grandma got to watch him do 7-8 steps at a time. Oh well, he put on a walking show for me when I got home by walking from the front door to the sofa! And don't ask me why I put exclamation points all up in this paragraph. His walking means more mommy running--hopefully outrunning. And that sneaky momma-fear that creeps over you when things get a little too quiet. I will always be wondering where he's going to go next and hoping like heck the bathroom door is closed and he isn't discovering what his rubber ducky looks like in the toilet bowl.
The mountains were bliss and peace...but so is my current chaos.

It's not that I am out of things to say...

Rather, I have so many it feels overwhelming. But I think for my own sanity, I need to let some of them out. In writing. Here. I just do better when I am writing through my thoughts rather than letting them roll around in my mind and bump into one another. If motherhood has been anything, it has been an exposure of all in my heart and life that are still under construction--my impatience and need to perform and clutter problem. And my curious confusion about working. I want to have work to do, but I don't seem to want to have to go into an office every day for 8 hours to do it. I want the satisfaction of having done something concrete and adult interaction, but the cost of time away seems too high for me to bear.
So, I've been wiggling between the rock and the hard place. And still feel at an impasse. I'm trying to make it cozy here at the impasse and make it work, but I can't get past the fact that something is still not in place as it should or could be. And for that, I will just have to trust the Lord. Which may be the purpose of the rock/hard place.
That's where I am today. Looking for a pillow or something soft. 'Cause this place is not. It's just all hard. I'm just trying to make it to Christmas. It seems like Christmas might be a nice stopping off point for my head and heart. A chance to breathe a little. And the promise of a new year with new hope.