Sunday, July 3, 2011
Let's hope it gets HOT!
After yesterdays post, I got some requests to post a picture of our vacation savings thermometer. I hope that temperature rises fast!! Here it is! The children can all quote without looking "OUR INCREDIBLE, AMAZING, AWESOME, FAMILY VACATION ADVENTURE!" I think I'll need to get T-shirts made when the time comes that say just that.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Fat woman flies!!!! (or Yep, that is my butt!)
When I started writing again last year it was because I wanted to chronicle my health journey, and speak on things that plagued my mind, kind of "talking it out" with my friends and family as I wrote. I remember that I had big plans to be "fit not fat by 40". Well, I'll be 40 in about 4 months and I'm not fit and I'm still fat. Let's just get that out there. I went terribly awry somewhere along the way. I gained back much of the 25 pounds I lost, though not ALL of it. I'm about 10 pounds less than when I started last time. I've joined Weight Watchers recently and I've thought a lot about how I eat, how I live, and how to make healthy eating easier for my lifestyle. I'm trying to "engineer my environment" to help me. I made a spreadsheet this morning with all the staples we tend to have around the house all the time on it, and their WW points plus values. I'm going to laminate it and stick it on the fridge so I can see at a glance and have no excuse to be lazy and not track it. I went online and designed myself a plate! Did you know you can do that? It's a plate to remind me of my goals and to remind me what I should be putting on the plate! When I get it in the mail, I'll post a picture of it. I've decided that my mind likes to trick me and that the only way I'll win this battle is to trick it back, so I'm trying to think of the things that get me off track and proactively trying to find ways to work around them and derail my minds evil plans. I really want to be healthy and strong and I'm never going to give up, no matter how many times I have failed. I will figure out what works for me, and I will succeed. I will. Just you wait and see.
I haven't written for several months and there has been some highlights. My husband and I went on our first ever getaway since our marriage. It was just a short weekend in Bryson, NC, but it was WONDERFUL. We so needed that time alone and away. It was an anniversary present for my husband, from me, and I planned it full of stuff I thought he would enjoy doing. The one thing he always wanted to do was ziplining. I am dreadfully scared of heights so it always gave me a not so pleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach to think about zipping through the treetops tethered only by a small metal clip and a piece of string. I read and researched and read reviews and after several hours of this talked myself into buying us two tickets for ziplining. He was thrilled, but right up until we zipped the first time, I felt slightly nauseous. Guess what? Fat women can fly!!!! More amazingly, it was FUN. The only problem for me was that whenever I would get going too fast I would take a little mini panic attack and grab hold of the line (you are NOT supposed to do that, you are supposed to just lay the flat of your hand on the line to slow yourself down). When you grab the line, you stop jarringly, painfully, and suddenly and THIS happens:
I haven't written for several months and there has been some highlights. My husband and I went on our first ever getaway since our marriage. It was just a short weekend in Bryson, NC, but it was WONDERFUL. We so needed that time alone and away. It was an anniversary present for my husband, from me, and I planned it full of stuff I thought he would enjoy doing. The one thing he always wanted to do was ziplining. I am dreadfully scared of heights so it always gave me a not so pleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach to think about zipping through the treetops tethered only by a small metal clip and a piece of string. I read and researched and read reviews and after several hours of this talked myself into buying us two tickets for ziplining. He was thrilled, but right up until we zipped the first time, I felt slightly nauseous. Guess what? Fat women can fly!!!! More amazingly, it was FUN. The only problem for me was that whenever I would get going too fast I would take a little mini panic attack and grab hold of the line (you are NOT supposed to do that, you are supposed to just lay the flat of your hand on the line to slow yourself down). When you grab the line, you stop jarringly, painfully, and suddenly and THIS happens:
Yep, that is my butt! In all it's glory. flipped upside down by my panicked grabbing of the line on
a 637 foot zipline. Still, I did it. I enjoyed it, and the only fear I felt was actually when we were
standing on the platforms in between zips. They were high up and looking down gave me that feeling like my body was against its will leaning towards the vast empty spaces below me. So I started landing on the platforms and immediately hugging the tree in the middle of the platform and not looking down. Yes, I became a tree hugger. Literally.
The thing that makes me so proud is that this is probably the first time I've ever VOLUNTARILY faced
down one of my fears and overcame it. I've been forced to face my fears before, but it isn't the same thing. I DECIDED to face this one, for my husband, because I loved him and wanted him to do something he'd always wanted to do. Because I didn't want to hold him back. And it wasn't
that big of a deal. Infact, it was fun and I'd love to do it again! I think I'll make that picture this years Christmas card.
Another highlight since I last wrote. I finally really figured out this budget thing. I don't do it the way most people might, but I've found a system that works for me. It isn't pefect, but I generally know how much is in the bank, how much we have for any given budget item and what we will be able to do about things we need coming up. I've got a tiny bit going into savings on a regular basis and I'm getting most of the bills paid. I say most because we still have some medical bills from Josh's surgery we are trying to pay off that are above and beyond our monthly budget. I'm even starting to make slow progress on those. I have to say no a lot. No Honey, we can't afford new wood for your lathe, No kids, you can't have that, No kids, we have no money to eat out, No Tanya, you can't go to the craft store. No, No, No. But at least I'm not saying "No, electricity bill, you can't be paid". That's what matters. That's a personal victory, because I've been trying and failing at budgets for 20 years.
Thank you Lord for the creator of the "box budget" spreadsheet. For me, with Josh getting paid each week, it's the only thing that has helped me keep track. I'm a complicated girl, with the need for an uncomplicated budget. I'm proud I've figured something out. I'm actually now at the point where I can PLAN AHEAD FINANCIALLY. I've never been able to do that.
Speaking of planning ahead financially, there is big exciting news around the Cockrell House! We are taking a family vacation!!! When, you may ask? Well, whenever we save up enough money! But we are going! It occurred to me one day that if we didn't actively plan and save to take a family vacation we would never go before the kids were grown. You just don't "happen" to end up with enough extra money to take six people on vacation! Ever. My kids (after next month) will be 8,8,10, and 14. The next year or two is, to me, the perfect time to take them on a family vacation when they will be young enough to still be filled with wonder and not be "too cool for school" about the places we go. So
I talked to the kids about where they wanted to go most, and thought to myself about what would make a family vacation for them and us just the best ever, and did a bunch of online research to figure out how much a vacation such as that might cost. (a LOT!!). I then printed out many pictures of all the places (most notably, the wizarding world of Harry Potter/Universal Studios and Discovery Cove Florida) that we wanted to go (also seaworld and busch gardens) and laminated them and made a giant poster with all the pictures surrounding a large (about three feet tall) thermometer. Each line on the
thermometer represents 500 dollars towards our goal. I don't know how long it is going to take, but hopefully within the next 12-18 months we can make really good progress and take the longed after family vacation. It is probably the only one the kids will get until they are grown, the only big one anyway, so I want to make it good. I want to make it memorable. The kids are super excited about having this to look forward to. Any friend who comes in the house is immediately shown the thermometer and told of our plans. The 3 smaller kids have been crushing pop cans for ...has to be... at least a year now. They crush the cans and we put them in big black garbage bags. They've got two big black bags. The idea was, they crush all the pop cans and when we take them in for recycling they get to split the money between the three of them. Well, they've decided they want to put that money in the family vacation fund and see the thermometer go up by that much. I was impressed with this sacrifice and told the kids that whenever they sacrificed something of theirs for the common cause of a family vacation, I would find a place to sacrifice in the budget to match their contribution. So that their sacrifice would double. So if they get 30 dollars for their cans, 60 dollars will end up in the fund. They love this. I have set an automatic savings plan to come out of the paycheck each week. 10 dollars into the vacation fund. It's a tiny amount I know, but we're also saving for an emergency fund and most of the money has to go to that until it's reached a reasonable level since we have no credit cards anymore to fall back on in an emergency. But I just want the kids to see the thermometer going up, no matter how slow, so that they can see we ARE making progress towards our goal. I think it's cool. It gives me and the kids something to look forward to, and gives the family another thing to work towards together. I'm all for everything and anything that makes the family more of a team.
Well, I just wanted to post and say "I'm back" and I'm still fighting. Some things have gotten better since I stopped writing seven months ago, some have gotten worse, but life goes on and God is good! I'm glad to be back.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
On turning 39. (or BIG DEAL!)
I've been 39 for going on a week now, and I can tell you confidently that it is shockingly similar to being 38. The only thing I notice is that I'm more cognizant that I am now on the last year of this decade of my life. Next year I will be MIDDLE AGED. That should give me a foreboding shiver, but it really doesn't. It seems the older I get the less I really care about my age except in relation to how close it is to retirement and how little money I have in savings, and how fast my children are growing up. Birthday conclusion - no big deal!
I was thinking about writing about what I've learned over the past 39 years, if anything, but then I decided that was best left for the big 4-0. Surely I will have learned something between age 30 and 40? I still have a year left so I hold out hope! Instead, I will tell you about a birthday in the land of Tanya.
I woke up with a headache, and I didn't immediately recall it was my birthday until my husband rolled over and like an excited 5 year old asked "do you want your present now!?" (he had asked the night before and I had calmly replied no, I didn't, because it wasn't my birthday. He asked me again after midnight. I again said no. He is much like me in that once we have something for somebody we really want to give it.)
I got a pink toolbox. Before you get that fixed in your mind, let me rephrase that. I received a magenta toolbox, so get that pastel baby pink out of your mind. Yuck. I received a magenta toolbox with a short fat little magenta and black hammer, two short and fat magenta and black screwdrivers... HEY! Wait a minute... I see a theme here all of a sudden that I am not so sure I like!! Why all these short stubby tools honey? are you trying to tell me something? At any rate, I love my toolbox. Here's a picture:
The reason I so love this toolbox, and the man who bought it for me, is that in order to know I wanted this, he had to have listened to me stomping around the house in a fury several months ago in search of nothing so much as a hammer and a couple of finishing nails. I had some tools when I was single, but all my tools got ABSORBED into his tools when we got married and now I can't find anything. It is highly frustrating when a woman just wants to hang a picture or fix a small something or other! I was mad because he wouldn't tell me where to find some finishing nails and I yelled something about how I was going to get a toolbox and fill it with everything I needed and nobody else would be able to touch it! I may have even been crying. I DO tend to cry when I'm angry. That means in the middle of me being a ... well... a not so loving kind person... he took the time to listen to the real need under the tirade and file it away as something to get me. That's nice. If you'll notice, it has a little protruding rounded part on the front center. THAT, my friends, is a place to put a lock. I plan on getting a lock and I plan on filling up my toolbox with all things good and tooly and handy and I plan on locking it away from my four children and my husband and jealousy guarding the contents with my life. Okay, that might be a bit dramatic, but just a bit. I was very happy with my toolbox.
Now, considering that none of my children have money and two of them are under 8, I wasn't expecting anything else for my birthday except some hugs, and a happy birthday from the little ankle biters. Little did I know, that my children love me more than that! I got many handmade tidbits for my birthday. I got a card promising me free babysitting or chores or snuggles from Elizabeth. I got two handmade "kite" cards; one from Abby and one from Jackson. Jackson, who hates hates hates to write, even wrote several words in praise of me! (my mommy is the best!). WOW! That's downright verbose for him! My 9 year old, Sammy, made me a paper airplane, and inside it said "I love you so much I'd fly all the way to china for you". It then had the words USA and CHINA with a plane and an arrow pointing from one to the other drawn on it. Abby made a small little piece of paper that said "happy birthday mommy" and had a 3-D sticker of a present to add to her kite offering. The day after (she worked on it all night, but it wasn't finished until the next morning) I received a wonderful little scrapbook from Elizabeth with page after page of wonderful things. My favorite pages are "you are the diamond in my rough" and "you give me wings" and "no matter how big I get I'll still be your little girl" and "no matter how big you get you'll still be my mommy" (again, I'm wondering if this is referring to BIG... hmmm.. could I be paranoid.?). Oh, and also "every cloud has a silver lining and you are mine". It has taken her a long time to start calling me mommy, even part of the time, but lately she says it more and more. Her book showed me how much my being in her life meant to her, and that was the greatest gift I could ever get. I love being her mommy, and I hope I can fill part of the void left by the death of her birth mommy. I'll be bringing the scrapbook to church wednesday to show off to my friends.
You'd think that would be enough, but wait, there's more! You all know I'm trying to get healthy and lose weight right? Well, when my hubby made me sit in the living room while all the kids gathered in the kitchen I was thinking "well, so much for my diet". However, when I sat at the chair in the kitchen with my eyes closed and started hearing that too familiar refrain of "happy birthday to you" I opened my eyes to the most amazing thing! I would post a picture, but I can't find the camera right now that the picture is on. Here was a plate with six (count 'em! six!) skinny cow ice cream sandwiches all in a circle on the plate. The middle sandwich was impaled with two glowing candles that read "29". I burst into laughter! MY HUSBAND JOSH IS TOO COOL. I guess he was trying to top my cake for him last year at his 38th birthday. Here is a picture of his cake last year. Heehee. At any rate, it was one ice cream sandwich for everyone, and I got the pleasure of having a "cake", and no harm done to my diet!
I really adore my family, and I'm grateful for them. Turning 39 was no big deal chronologically, but the love I was shown by the 5 people who make up my little universe made it a BIG DEAL indeed. A really big deal!
Happy Birthday to me.
Blessings, Tanya
I was thinking about writing about what I've learned over the past 39 years, if anything, but then I decided that was best left for the big 4-0. Surely I will have learned something between age 30 and 40? I still have a year left so I hold out hope! Instead, I will tell you about a birthday in the land of Tanya.
I woke up with a headache, and I didn't immediately recall it was my birthday until my husband rolled over and like an excited 5 year old asked "do you want your present now!?" (he had asked the night before and I had calmly replied no, I didn't, because it wasn't my birthday. He asked me again after midnight. I again said no. He is much like me in that once we have something for somebody we really want to give it.)
I got a pink toolbox. Before you get that fixed in your mind, let me rephrase that. I received a magenta toolbox, so get that pastel baby pink out of your mind. Yuck. I received a magenta toolbox with a short fat little magenta and black hammer, two short and fat magenta and black screwdrivers... HEY! Wait a minute... I see a theme here all of a sudden that I am not so sure I like!! Why all these short stubby tools honey? are you trying to tell me something? At any rate, I love my toolbox. Here's a picture:
Now, considering that none of my children have money and two of them are under 8, I wasn't expecting anything else for my birthday except some hugs, and a happy birthday from the little ankle biters. Little did I know, that my children love me more than that! I got many handmade tidbits for my birthday. I got a card promising me free babysitting or chores or snuggles from Elizabeth. I got two handmade "kite" cards; one from Abby and one from Jackson. Jackson, who hates hates hates to write, even wrote several words in praise of me! (my mommy is the best!). WOW! That's downright verbose for him! My 9 year old, Sammy, made me a paper airplane, and inside it said "I love you so much I'd fly all the way to china for you". It then had the words USA and CHINA with a plane and an arrow pointing from one to the other drawn on it. Abby made a small little piece of paper that said "happy birthday mommy" and had a 3-D sticker of a present to add to her kite offering. The day after (she worked on it all night, but it wasn't finished until the next morning) I received a wonderful little scrapbook from Elizabeth with page after page of wonderful things. My favorite pages are "you are the diamond in my rough" and "you give me wings" and "no matter how big I get I'll still be your little girl" and "no matter how big you get you'll still be my mommy" (again, I'm wondering if this is referring to BIG... hmmm.. could I be paranoid.?). Oh, and also "every cloud has a silver lining and you are mine". It has taken her a long time to start calling me mommy, even part of the time, but lately she says it more and more. Her book showed me how much my being in her life meant to her, and that was the greatest gift I could ever get. I love being her mommy, and I hope I can fill part of the void left by the death of her birth mommy. I'll be bringing the scrapbook to church wednesday to show off to my friends.
You'd think that would be enough, but wait, there's more! You all know I'm trying to get healthy and lose weight right? Well, when my hubby made me sit in the living room while all the kids gathered in the kitchen I was thinking "well, so much for my diet". However, when I sat at the chair in the kitchen with my eyes closed and started hearing that too familiar refrain of "happy birthday to you" I opened my eyes to the most amazing thing! I would post a picture, but I can't find the camera right now that the picture is on. Here was a plate with six (count 'em! six!) skinny cow ice cream sandwiches all in a circle on the plate. The middle sandwich was impaled with two glowing candles that read "29". I burst into laughter! MY HUSBAND JOSH IS TOO COOL. I guess he was trying to top my cake for him last year at his 38th birthday. Here is a picture of his cake last year. Heehee. At any rate, it was one ice cream sandwich for everyone, and I got the pleasure of having a "cake", and no harm done to my diet!
I really adore my family, and I'm grateful for them. Turning 39 was no big deal chronologically, but the love I was shown by the 5 people who make up my little universe made it a BIG DEAL indeed. A really big deal!
Happy Birthday to me.
Blessings, Tanya
Monday, November 1, 2010
Halloween Horror (or from poop to panic in one short week)
What a week. Really, that's all I can say. It started with my getting some kind of stomach upset that had me stopping for emergency bathroom breaks on the way to and back from dropping the kids off at school, and praying to the Lord at the Red Light by my house to please please let me get home before I had to poop my pants like a two year old. Now, when you pray that prayer, let me tell you it is a fervent one! Thankfully, that day the Lord answered my prayer in the affirmative and I was able to rush into the house past the confused puppies who were wondering who that blur was, and make it to the bathroom just in time. whew!
Now, I am used to being in pain. I have chronic back and neck pain, and I've given birth twice. Usually when I feel bad, I just get up and keep going. After all, I've got stuff to do, kids to raise. I'm by no means a woman who lets a headache or a bodyache or even bronchitis keep her down. I once went to a trade show with walking pneumonia, because I just really didn't want to miss it. I can keep going in the worst of cases, but when I have something wrong with my intestines or stomach... when something is coming out the bottom or the top, I become a pitiful mess. I start feeling sorry for myself. I just feel gross, and don't want to be near other people at all. I actually don't even want to be touched. So I felt like that for a few days.. and it was accompanied by some weird vertigo that had me feeling like I was going to fall down every time I got up!
My husband and I had a huge fight the other night. I mean, big. yep. We're over it now, but that stuck with me too. I envy his ability to just let it go when it is over. With me, it hurts for days and weeks and months sometimes. I don't like feeling bad towards him, and I don't like him feeling bad towards me. It just makes me really sad!
Speaking of fighting, my ex husband and I have been fighting over the custody schedule for two weeks. It's getting ugly, no matter how hard I try to keep it nice. He's impossible. I'm determined to get a schedule that is good for the kids, that is workable long term. That has them living as normal a life as possible with the least amount of back and forth craziness between our houses (we live an hour apart). This whole process had me rocking and crying yesterday, on the verge of a panic attack. I haven't had one of those in a long time, but my ex can make me crazy. He scares me to no end. He's the coldest person I know. Even my kids say he never smiles "unless he's telling a joke or being in a picture". I know they love him and he loves them, and that is why I keep trying so hard to make him happy in all this, when nothing has ever made him happy and I fear nothing really ever will.
We had parent teacher conferences for three of our four kids last week. Let's just say only one of them is normal! I say this with a laugh, but really, my heart was broken in many ways. My youngest son has such a poor attitude towards learning and his woman teachers that I'm at my wits end (and so is his teacher). Being as I'm new in his life, and I don't know what happened to him before I came along, it is hard to know where it comes from. His dad thinks it may come from what he did or didn't get from his mom before she passed away. With him being at work all day we don't know what was said or done that might have harmed his little psychological well being.. We know only that she stopped feeding him properly when her disease took hold of her, but we don't know what else might have been said or not said, done or not done. We don't know what seeing her bedridden for the last year of her life did to him, and we don't know, frankly, what her dying did to him. We are thankful I am here and that he readily made me his mommy in his heart and mind, but this mommy worries so much about what to do to help him make his way along in this world amidst the constant negativity he brings to his work and school life. He is making slow improvements, but they need to be faster if he has hope of moving up and it is so hard to be on him and on him, when all you really want to do is scoop his little blong self up in your arms and love him until all the bad goes away. If only you could love the bad away, he'd be the happiest most well adjusted child in the world. He has so much love.
My oldest son is academically shining, but socially he's falling apart. His Asperger's is causing him no end of grief in the social field, and I couldn't help crying when his teacher told me that she found him crying in the playground one day and he told her "I am the most unfortunate and unhappy boy in this whole school". (yes, he really talks that way). He has a real persecution complex and thinks if somebody looks at him wrong that he is being shunned and hated. Most of the kids at his small private Christian school are as sweet as can be to him, but he can't always see it. He's emotionally fragile, and changes make him worked up. His teacher says his disconnect and disorganization will catch up to him in older grades if he doesn't get them together. She says right now his innate intelligence is helping make up for those shortcomings, but won't forever. The worst thing is, she says she sees ANGUISH in him. I've seen the same anguish. I don't know what to do for him anymore. I've given all the mommy love and encouragement I can. I have a friend who has a great counsellor for Asperger's kids. I'm calling insurance to see if he is covered.
My little girl is fine, thank God. The teacher said she sometimes seems like she's lacking a bit of confidence. Oh well. That is the least of my worries!!! She's doing great in school, she makes friends, she keeps friends, she plays well, she works hard and she is cooperative and happy. HIgh point of my week.
Oldest girl is currently failing grade 8. She blames herself saying she didn't hand things in because she was lazy or socializing. We're taking her to the doctor to see if we can get her a new ADD drug to help her focus. Her brother's new meds are really helping him, and they have the same kind of metabolism so we're hoping it might help her too.
We're trying so hard to be good parents. It is hard to admit that some of your kids problems are beyond what you can help. Discipline and love don't take care of everything. Prayer doesn't even seem to. Although I know the Lord will lead us where we need to be to help the kids. Waiting on his perfect timing is never easy though.
All this stress made my week in health goals go badly. I gained 3 pounds for the first time since I started this journey. My metabolism shuts off if I miss a meal and I missed lots this week because of 1) feeling nauseous 2) stress 3) distraction of dealing with my ex all day and working on the stupid custody schedule or 4) the stupid budget. It is always so easy to think "why do I try" and to think "why don't I just eat what I want and be happy with who I am!" Stress makes you go "this is too hard". It makes it easy to say yes when Jackson says "Mommy, do you want a pixie stick? I got it trick or treating!" That was a good pixie stick. stupid,stupid,stupid. Short term pleasure, long term pain.
My week was looking up when my good friend Leah invited me to her halloween party. I took the two kids that were home and my husband and we showed up (about two hours late, which is a whole other story). Sometime around the time I left I realized my husband was not acting right. I made him let me drive, and by the time we got to Leah's I was downright worried. He was loopy and swaying. Nothing he said made sense and he was seeing stuff that wasn't there. Long story short, my friend and I were concerned enough to call the paramedics and we ended up in the hospital until 2:30 in the morning. I thought my husband was having some kind of neurological issue. He just had open heart surgery in May, and I was worried that here I was again, maybe going to lose him to a stroke or something. I was panicked to tell the truth. I didn't show it. I acted really calm. Although he doesn't know this, and would never believe it, I am actually great in an actual crisis. He's never seen me in an actual crisis, but I've been in a couple, and when I am I get preternaturally calm. I am able to cope well. I might break down when it is all over, but during I am fine. Last night was like that. I was calm and even joking on the outside, but on the inside I was on the verge of panic. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what was wrong with my husband. It was pretty much a case of "That boy, he just ain't right!". After my first ride in the front of an ambulance, and many hours of waiting in the ER and listening to my husband say funny yet alarming things (do you see the patterns on that poster moving? is this new poster technology? Is there a screen between me and you, because it looks like there's a screen right there in the middle of the room!) it was determined that he had a negative reaction to some medicine. He was going to be fine. Thank God.
He told me to apologize to Leah for ruining her party. She graciously said "tell him he didn't ruin it, just made it more exciting!" Did I mention how much my friends rock? I love you Leah. At any rate, my halloween was truly a horror. I would trade this week for another, easier week. I would do that. I would love to do that, but I've come to believe that everything in life is for a reason, so I'm asking the Lord to teach me from this week, to use it to make my kids happier and healthier, my husband and I closer, my faith stronger, and my determination greater to keep fighting the good fight and running the race with endurance.
Hello new week, I love you, and may we be good friends!
Blessings, Tanya
Now, I am used to being in pain. I have chronic back and neck pain, and I've given birth twice. Usually when I feel bad, I just get up and keep going. After all, I've got stuff to do, kids to raise. I'm by no means a woman who lets a headache or a bodyache or even bronchitis keep her down. I once went to a trade show with walking pneumonia, because I just really didn't want to miss it. I can keep going in the worst of cases, but when I have something wrong with my intestines or stomach... when something is coming out the bottom or the top, I become a pitiful mess. I start feeling sorry for myself. I just feel gross, and don't want to be near other people at all. I actually don't even want to be touched. So I felt like that for a few days.. and it was accompanied by some weird vertigo that had me feeling like I was going to fall down every time I got up!
My husband and I had a huge fight the other night. I mean, big. yep. We're over it now, but that stuck with me too. I envy his ability to just let it go when it is over. With me, it hurts for days and weeks and months sometimes. I don't like feeling bad towards him, and I don't like him feeling bad towards me. It just makes me really sad!
Speaking of fighting, my ex husband and I have been fighting over the custody schedule for two weeks. It's getting ugly, no matter how hard I try to keep it nice. He's impossible. I'm determined to get a schedule that is good for the kids, that is workable long term. That has them living as normal a life as possible with the least amount of back and forth craziness between our houses (we live an hour apart). This whole process had me rocking and crying yesterday, on the verge of a panic attack. I haven't had one of those in a long time, but my ex can make me crazy. He scares me to no end. He's the coldest person I know. Even my kids say he never smiles "unless he's telling a joke or being in a picture". I know they love him and he loves them, and that is why I keep trying so hard to make him happy in all this, when nothing has ever made him happy and I fear nothing really ever will.
We had parent teacher conferences for three of our four kids last week. Let's just say only one of them is normal! I say this with a laugh, but really, my heart was broken in many ways. My youngest son has such a poor attitude towards learning and his woman teachers that I'm at my wits end (and so is his teacher). Being as I'm new in his life, and I don't know what happened to him before I came along, it is hard to know where it comes from. His dad thinks it may come from what he did or didn't get from his mom before she passed away. With him being at work all day we don't know what was said or done that might have harmed his little psychological well being.. We know only that she stopped feeding him properly when her disease took hold of her, but we don't know what else might have been said or not said, done or not done. We don't know what seeing her bedridden for the last year of her life did to him, and we don't know, frankly, what her dying did to him. We are thankful I am here and that he readily made me his mommy in his heart and mind, but this mommy worries so much about what to do to help him make his way along in this world amidst the constant negativity he brings to his work and school life. He is making slow improvements, but they need to be faster if he has hope of moving up and it is so hard to be on him and on him, when all you really want to do is scoop his little blong self up in your arms and love him until all the bad goes away. If only you could love the bad away, he'd be the happiest most well adjusted child in the world. He has so much love.
My oldest son is academically shining, but socially he's falling apart. His Asperger's is causing him no end of grief in the social field, and I couldn't help crying when his teacher told me that she found him crying in the playground one day and he told her "I am the most unfortunate and unhappy boy in this whole school". (yes, he really talks that way). He has a real persecution complex and thinks if somebody looks at him wrong that he is being shunned and hated. Most of the kids at his small private Christian school are as sweet as can be to him, but he can't always see it. He's emotionally fragile, and changes make him worked up. His teacher says his disconnect and disorganization will catch up to him in older grades if he doesn't get them together. She says right now his innate intelligence is helping make up for those shortcomings, but won't forever. The worst thing is, she says she sees ANGUISH in him. I've seen the same anguish. I don't know what to do for him anymore. I've given all the mommy love and encouragement I can. I have a friend who has a great counsellor for Asperger's kids. I'm calling insurance to see if he is covered.
My little girl is fine, thank God. The teacher said she sometimes seems like she's lacking a bit of confidence. Oh well. That is the least of my worries!!! She's doing great in school, she makes friends, she keeps friends, she plays well, she works hard and she is cooperative and happy. HIgh point of my week.
Oldest girl is currently failing grade 8. She blames herself saying she didn't hand things in because she was lazy or socializing. We're taking her to the doctor to see if we can get her a new ADD drug to help her focus. Her brother's new meds are really helping him, and they have the same kind of metabolism so we're hoping it might help her too.
We're trying so hard to be good parents. It is hard to admit that some of your kids problems are beyond what you can help. Discipline and love don't take care of everything. Prayer doesn't even seem to. Although I know the Lord will lead us where we need to be to help the kids. Waiting on his perfect timing is never easy though.
All this stress made my week in health goals go badly. I gained 3 pounds for the first time since I started this journey. My metabolism shuts off if I miss a meal and I missed lots this week because of 1) feeling nauseous 2) stress 3) distraction of dealing with my ex all day and working on the stupid custody schedule or 4) the stupid budget. It is always so easy to think "why do I try" and to think "why don't I just eat what I want and be happy with who I am!" Stress makes you go "this is too hard". It makes it easy to say yes when Jackson says "Mommy, do you want a pixie stick? I got it trick or treating!" That was a good pixie stick. stupid,stupid,stupid. Short term pleasure, long term pain.
My week was looking up when my good friend Leah invited me to her halloween party. I took the two kids that were home and my husband and we showed up (about two hours late, which is a whole other story). Sometime around the time I left I realized my husband was not acting right. I made him let me drive, and by the time we got to Leah's I was downright worried. He was loopy and swaying. Nothing he said made sense and he was seeing stuff that wasn't there. Long story short, my friend and I were concerned enough to call the paramedics and we ended up in the hospital until 2:30 in the morning. I thought my husband was having some kind of neurological issue. He just had open heart surgery in May, and I was worried that here I was again, maybe going to lose him to a stroke or something. I was panicked to tell the truth. I didn't show it. I acted really calm. Although he doesn't know this, and would never believe it, I am actually great in an actual crisis. He's never seen me in an actual crisis, but I've been in a couple, and when I am I get preternaturally calm. I am able to cope well. I might break down when it is all over, but during I am fine. Last night was like that. I was calm and even joking on the outside, but on the inside I was on the verge of panic. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what was wrong with my husband. It was pretty much a case of "That boy, he just ain't right!". After my first ride in the front of an ambulance, and many hours of waiting in the ER and listening to my husband say funny yet alarming things (do you see the patterns on that poster moving? is this new poster technology? Is there a screen between me and you, because it looks like there's a screen right there in the middle of the room!) it was determined that he had a negative reaction to some medicine. He was going to be fine. Thank God.
He told me to apologize to Leah for ruining her party. She graciously said "tell him he didn't ruin it, just made it more exciting!" Did I mention how much my friends rock? I love you Leah. At any rate, my halloween was truly a horror. I would trade this week for another, easier week. I would do that. I would love to do that, but I've come to believe that everything in life is for a reason, so I'm asking the Lord to teach me from this week, to use it to make my kids happier and healthier, my husband and I closer, my faith stronger, and my determination greater to keep fighting the good fight and running the race with endurance.
Hello new week, I love you, and may we be good friends!
Blessings, Tanya
Saturday, October 16, 2010
The Ugly Truth (or E is for Endurance)
I've been meaning to take a picture since I started this new healthy lifestyle. I want to record this weight loss and health journey in pictures and words. Somehow I kept forgetting. I don't know if my forgetfulness was a self protective ruse I was pulling on myself, or just my regular perimenoapausal forgetfulness, but I started this new plan on August 12th, and now it is two months later and until today I had STILL not taken a picture. I've lost 25 pounds since August 12th. I'm pretty proud of that. You know what the first thing I thought when I viewed these pictures was? "wow, and I was 25 pounds fatter than THIS!" Uggh. It's the ugly truth. I have 16 more pounds to go to break into "onederland". I used to have 41! This is a good thing! That doesn't mean I don't hate these pictures. I really do. But without the before, how will I be able to enjoy the after! Okay, here's the ugly truth. This first picture was taken July 4th, 2010. This was about a month before I started my new eating plan, so is probably the best picture I have of where I started on this thing, within about 5 pounds or so.
I almost deleted this picture, because I hate it so much. I hate that I let myself get that fat. I hate that I didn't even really notice how fat I was getting. I mean, I KNEW I was fat, but when I looked in the mirror I didn't SEE it... truthfully, I think I kind of stopped looking in the mirror at some point. I'd look, I'd brush my hair, and my teeth, but I wouldn't SEE. It is amazing how much your own mind can protect yourself from pain without you even having a conscious say in it! And yes, this picture does cause me pain. This person in the picture isn't a confident person, and isn't a happy person. This person thinks everyone is staring at her, thinking how fat and ugly she is. I'm glad I'm not this person anymore.
The pictures below were taken today. 25 pounds thinner. I'm still way overweight. I am still 215 pounds and 5 foot 4, but I like this girl better. This girl makes more good choices than bad choices. This girl looks in the mirror and can say "I'm moving in the right direction". This girl can feel proud that she's on a healthy journey. This girl is somebody I can live with. I feel very vulnerable posting these photos. Normally I'm trying to hide that stomach, hide those fat arms, and well....just hide. I've made myself a promise though. No more hiding. I have nothing to be ashamed about. I made bad choices and combined with my body type and my metabolism and my health issues, this is what resulted. It didn't happen overnight. It won't come off overnight. As long as I'm heading in the right direction, I'm content. I look forward to the pictures a couple of months from now, and the pictures a couple of months from then, and so on. I'm looking forward to the differences I'll see. It's such hard work, but thinking of it that way, it's almost exciting! I just have to keep up my endurance. The word says "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with
endurance the race God has set before us." This is the race I'm running, in my faith, in my health, in my life. God has set me a race and I just need to keep running it. Blessings, Tanya![]()
endurance the race God has set before us." This is the race I'm running, in my faith, in my health, in my life. God has set me a race and I just need to keep running it. Blessings, Tanya
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
D is for Depressed.
I read once that Depression is anger turned inwards. This definition has started to make more sense to me, the older I get. When anger at your situation can not be let out constructively, you turn it inwards, where it grows and festers and molders. Depression and I have a long and intimate relationship. The first time I remember being seriously depressed was in grade six. Back then I was depressed because I lived in fear of a local red headed bully named Jolene. I remember ducking from car to car on the walk home trying to avoid that flash of brilliant red hair. She was so good at appearing out of nowhere, and always grabbed my scarf and tried to choke me with it. I was depressed because it seemed my 3 years older brother beat me up almost every day. I was depressed because my single mom had been forced to take a second job as a janitor at night and I never felt I had time with her anymore. I was depressed because I stole from a desk at school in a desperate bid for attention and ended up getting the strap for it. This was a huge humiliation to a girl whose only real positive attention at school was from the teachers. It did get the desired attention from my mom however, and soon I was accompanying her on her rounds as a night janitor. I've never stolen anything since, not so much as a pen. Some things are just not worth it.
I've had many episodes of depression since then, some lasting days or weeks, some lasting months. However, I've always been a kind of Pollyanna at heart and inevitably I tend to pull up my socks, put on my big girl panties and move on with life. I try to look on the bright side, and I try to make the best of what is thrown my way, despite the melancholy nature I was born with.
It isn't until my husband left me after being together 15 years in May of 2007 that it became too much. It wasn't so much that he left me. It wasn't even that it seems he'd had nothing but contempt for me for some time and hadn't said anything. It wasn't that his tawdry computer affair with a married mom of four disgusted me beyond imagining. It wasn't that I found out about the affair when I was on vacation in Canada and my kids were half a country away in California with my in laws, left without me for the first time in their lives. What did me in was that he threatened to take my kids away. He said I was a horrible mom and that he was going to prove it in court and take my kids away and I'd only see them every other weekend. He got himself an ugly barracuda of a female lawyer (roundly despised by me, my lawyer, and every other person I met in the process) and started what my lawyer called a "shotgun prosecution", meaning they will shoot as many bullets as they can and hope a few hit.
It was the first time in my life I'd ever been to court (despite my short criminal career in grade six) and I had no idea that the judge sees this kind of thing every day. All I could think of was "can he do it? can he actually take my kids from me? Will the judge believe all these lies". My kids, since the moment they were born, became like the sun in my universe. They were the reason I woke up in the morning, the reason I walked about all day, and the reason I kept going when all else failed. All my energy went into them, and all my love was lavished on them. As my husband became more and more cold and hateful, the more and more it became me and the kids. He was not involved much at all in taking care of the kids prior to the divorce, and I was the one who did everything for them. They were my right arm and my left leg. The idea of losing them was incomprehensible. It was like thinking of them dying. I had been living in fear for a long time. Fear of my husband's disapproval mostly. It is very hard to explain unless you've been emotionally abused, but my husband had a LOOK. I spent a good deal of my time trying to avoid that look. It was a look that withered the soul. A look so filled with loathing and contempt you couldn't help but feel stupid, ugly, and four inches tall when it was leveled at you. I would walk constantly on eggshells trying to please him to avoid that look. The LOOK aside, I was now experiencing a level of fear that I had never known. A fear of my whole world being pulled out from under me like a rug. A fear of my reason for living being taken away.
I didn't feel depressed at this time. I was unhappy, oh Lord knows, I was unhappy. I Loved my husband, though God knows why because he didn't deserve my love. I'm just the type of person that once I love I can't just stop loving. My heart isn't given half way. I was unhappy he was leaving me. I was unhappy he wouldn't consider counseling, not even for the sake of the children. I was miserable at the thought of having to put my children through the trauma of divorce. My son, already a special needs child, is extremely emotionally sensitive, and I knew this would be super stressful on him. So I was unhappy, but I didn't think of myself as depressed. When I'm depressed I feel it is hard to get up in the morning, but I was full of action. I was doing what I needed to do to try to keep my kids. I was going around to teachers and doctors and friends and family and collecting affidavits of the truth to fight the lies ( I had 24 affidavits to his 4 when I was done ). I was a woman of action and prayer. Never have I cried out to God like I cried during those long months of the custody battle and divorce hearings. I was literally on my knees every Sunday in church, weeping and pleading with the Lord for his help and his mercy. After years and years of struggling with depression, it wasn't depression that finally drove me to the doctor for help.
It was sleep.
I fell into bed each night exhausted beyond belief. I'd usually fall asleep within minutes, or even seconds. The problem was, I'd wake up a few hours later, usually at 2 or 3 am. My brain would start spinning and I couldn't go back to sleep. The exhaustion was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It wasn't just physical - it was mental, emotional and spiritual exhaustion as well. I was constantly shaking, my stomach was constantly roiling like a pot of witches brew, and I felt as if the eyes I was looking out were not even my own. The disconnect from my own mind was huge.
I'd been going to my doctor for years. He knew me. I told him what was happening and I told him I needed a sleeping pill. I told him if I didn't sleep I was going to die. I believed it, and at that point it may very well have been closer to the truth than even I knew. He told me he wasn't going to give me a sleeping pill. He told me he was going to give me an anti-depressant. I argued with him (we have a long history of arguing actually. I like having a doctor I can argue with). I'm not depressed, I tell him, I'm tired. He proceeds to explain that my nerves are completely shot. He said that there's a box we all live in and that I'm not even in that box anymore. He says the stress of what I'm going through has caused every nerve in my body to be like a split end on my hair. I'm feeling twice the sensation on every nerve ending, it's never ending, and it's blown the box wide open, ripping it at the seams. He says it's not about depression, it's about repairing that box so I can live inside it again and not be flying around in pieces all around it.
Well, I'm paranoid as can be at this point. My soon to be ex husband has been subpoenaing everything in my life, from my diaries, to my scrapbook pages, to my personal letters, to my date books. He's been trying to get ANYTHING to back up his claims. All of a sudden that cute scrapbook page I made of Sammy when he emptied a bottle of baby powder all over his room when he was two isn't cute anymore. It's an example of what a negligent mother I am! I'm constantly looking over my shoulder. Heaven forbid I forget to brush his teeth one day, or that I let him out of the house without socks on. Every little thing is now a big thing. I tell my doctor, no way. I can't be on anti depressants. He'll just use it against me in court. Say I'm unstable. That I can't care for the kids because of it. The doctor explains to me that no court in the world would hold anti depressants against me. He said if everybody on anti depressants glowed green, Atlanta could be seen clearly glowing from outer space. He gave me 30 days of a free sample. So I didn't have to go through insurance. Did I mention I love my doctor? I took the offering and went home.
It was about August or September of 2007 by this point. I was living in the same house as my soon to be ex. He had cut me off from all funds. I had to tell him what we needed and he'd buy it if he felt like it. This, after 13 years of running the household, the budget, the lives of the whole family, I was reduced to begging for food for the kids, or clothes for the kids. He did all he could to humiliate me, to take away any security I had, and to try his best to steal all purpose from my life. Though we never fought in front of the kids, the tension in the house was so thick it was like wading through molasses just to walk or breathe. My sensitive boy started biting me at random. He'd never been a biter. Never bitten a child or me. (except once when nursing and my reaction caused him to stop that immediately!). I'd have my arm around him and we'd be looking in the fridge for lunch and all of a sudden he would chomp down on my arm. HARD! We are cuddling on the couch and all of a sudden a sharp pain radiates through my breast as he takes a fair sized bite out of the side. It was horrible. My daughter, thank God, was young enough that as long as she had mommy she was okay. She was 4 going on 5 when he left. She was sad, but mostly because everybody else was. This weird divorced life is really all she remembers and all she knows. In a way it's a blessing for her. Sammy remembers a lot about when we were a regular family, and for him it is harder.
At any rate, the pills did help me crawl back inside the box. I made it to court, and I believe admirably represented myself. I only had to be chastised once by the judge as I angrily cut off the barracuda lawyer. I tell you, this woman could sorely try the patience of Mother Theresa herself. She was the perfect compliment for my cold hearted and merciless husband, who, by the way, was the only person who actually liked her. I prevailed in court, and got primary physical custody of my children. Joint legal custody. Final decisions if we disagree are mine. So good. But this isn't about my divorce, this is about depression.
I've been on anti-depressants of one kind or the other ever since then. The whole experience of the divorce I feel changed something physically and fundamentally inside me. My Anger burns hotter these days. Quicker. I've got a new kind of depression that seems to suck the Joy out of my days. It's harder to crawl out of, and it's harder to stay out of. Even though I've got a wonderful husband, two added wonderful kids, and a pretty good life. I've been on a spiritual journey lately, seeking God for the answers. He is the only one who has them. I know, and I've blogged about this before, that forgiveness is key. I feel forgiveness of myself is a crucial step. When you are slammed so thoroughly and dragged so unrelentingly through the mud, even the lies start sounding like the truth. Every little thing I've ever done that was less than perfect as a mother starts to look bigger and more evil. I'm harder on myself for the little things. Worse, I know my ex is still looking, still making notes. Everything I do, I do in light of what HE might think, what he might say, if we go back to court. So yes, he still has some control over my actions and that, excuse my language, pisses me off to no end. It makes me mad that someday my kids will have a choice of who they live with. My ex husband's house has very few rules, he has more money so they do more "fun" stuff. Our house has rules, chores, and no money. Our fun stuff consists of going to the Library for a new book, and occasionally a movie at the dollar theater. I can't compete with six flags and vacations to California. I just can't. The only thing I have to compete with is my love and my determination to teach them what they need to know to be successful and happy in this world. Do I fear them saying "I want to go live with DADDY!" when they turn 13 or 14 and I've said "no" yet again. Yes, I do. I fear it horribly. I can't raise them with no rules and no discipline and turn out spoiled little brats because I want them to love me though! I just can't. I'd be failing them, and failing my God. So I do what I must, and I trust God. Never again though, can I be the mother who just enjoyed her children without thought. Now I must think through everything very carefully. It has taken some of the joy and some of the spontaneity out of motherhood. That in itself, is quite depressing. Life changes though, and we adjust. We adapt. That's what human beings do right?
So yes, I do what I need to do, I take my anti-depressants, and I pray for the best. I try really hard to enjoy the little moments, to take pleasure in the smallest things. I try to realize that my peri-menopause is wreaking havoc with my emotions and that I'm riding out a long and crazy storm that I'm going to have to learn to fine tune for years to come. I know that GRATITUDE is key. I need to be thankful for the small things. I am. I'm grateful that my baby Abby sets her alarm for 6:30 in the morning to have a little private time with mommy before the day starts. Those few moments of her cuddling in my arms in the dark living room are moments I treasure up in my heart. More importantly, I think she treasures them in her heart. I am grateful for the moments when my Sammy smiles and laughs as he gets some joke I've shared and we meet eyes and I know how much he loves me. I'm grateful for his long, totally wasted on a boy, thick eyelashes. I call them black diamond ski slopes for the Whos down in Whoville. He finds that very funny. I am grateful for my Jackson, who will grin at me with that megawatt smile and strike a goofy pose and make all my troubles melt away for just that minute. I marvel at the things he builds with his building toys. I am grateful for Elizabeth, who loves me so much. I tell her not to cuddle me while I'm trying to eat supper so she'll slide down and give my foot a hug before bouncing away. "I figured you don't eat with your feet" she'll cheerfully say. When I'm crying, she is always the one who can make me laugh. I'm grateful for my husband making up goofy songs about things. I'm grateful he keeps singing them even when I'm in a mood and just glare at him. I'm grateful that he never holds a grudge. I'm grateful I have a God who loves me and that Jesus died for me on a cross 2000 years ago. Forgiveness and gratitude. I keep working on them both. I know they are key. Forgiveness, gratitude, and let's not forget my "happy pill".
I've come to learn that real, lasting depression is a disease. It's not a sin. It's not something you can just turn off or turn away from. You don't need a good reason to have it. Your brain decides for you. It takes medication, it takes therapy, it takes understanding family and friends. It takes Jesus. It takes your all just to keep on keeping on. You will have your good months and you will have your bad months. I'm just now to the point where I can stand back and look and really try to figure it out. I find it imperative to do so, because I can see that my son tends towards depression. I keep a very close eye on him. He is blessed, because he has a mom who is very aware of him. I will not let things get to a point of crisis with him. I am on the job. I am watching. All the time.
Life is a blessing People. Even being a person with depression I can see that. I will fight the monster of depression lurking inside me every day because life is so beautiful in so many countless ways, and living to the fullest is something I will never give up on. I have so much to live for. I have four beautiful children with limitless futures. I have a husband who loves me no matter what. I have a God who loves me even more than that. I have a roof over my head, I have food in my belly. I live in a country where I can speak freely about whatever it is that is on my mind - where I can worship my God without fear of state persecution or jail or death. Even on the verge of bankruptcy, I have more than most of the people in this whole wide world do. Life is beautiful, even if depression causes me to sometimes see the beauty through a fog.
I waited a long time to get medication for my depressive tendencies. If you are waiting because you feel shame or fear, don't. Just go get help. It isn't anything to be ashamed of. It is part of who you are, and there is help out there. Sometimes you don't even realize you are depressed. When I started to attend therapy as part of the divorce proceedings the therapist asked me "why are you so terrified of your husband?" I didn't know I was terrified. I'd lived in that state of being for so long, it didn't even register as fear. It was just life. she told me I was depressed and that is why I was so tired all the time, and why it was so hard to focus, to clean house, to get organized. I just thought that was life too. Sometimes you've been coping with a way of being for so long you don't even realize you live there. If you suspect you live there, go talk to your doctor. Try some medicine and see if it doesn't help a bit, or a lot. You'll just be one more glowing green dot that you can see from space, but you might be a happier dot.
D is also for Decision. Make the decision to put yourself first for a moment. D also stands for Destiny. It is hard to fulfill your destiny when you are wading through the pits of depression. I wish I would have received help years and years ago. I'd probably be much farther along on this road to self discovery and fulfilling my potential if I would not have spent so many years in the dark. If you are feeling your way blindly along in the darkness of depression, as I was for so many years, please come towards the light. You are so worth it.
Blessings, Tanya
I've had many episodes of depression since then, some lasting days or weeks, some lasting months. However, I've always been a kind of Pollyanna at heart and inevitably I tend to pull up my socks, put on my big girl panties and move on with life. I try to look on the bright side, and I try to make the best of what is thrown my way, despite the melancholy nature I was born with.
It isn't until my husband left me after being together 15 years in May of 2007 that it became too much. It wasn't so much that he left me. It wasn't even that it seems he'd had nothing but contempt for me for some time and hadn't said anything. It wasn't that his tawdry computer affair with a married mom of four disgusted me beyond imagining. It wasn't that I found out about the affair when I was on vacation in Canada and my kids were half a country away in California with my in laws, left without me for the first time in their lives. What did me in was that he threatened to take my kids away. He said I was a horrible mom and that he was going to prove it in court and take my kids away and I'd only see them every other weekend. He got himself an ugly barracuda of a female lawyer (roundly despised by me, my lawyer, and every other person I met in the process) and started what my lawyer called a "shotgun prosecution", meaning they will shoot as many bullets as they can and hope a few hit.
It was the first time in my life I'd ever been to court (despite my short criminal career in grade six) and I had no idea that the judge sees this kind of thing every day. All I could think of was "can he do it? can he actually take my kids from me? Will the judge believe all these lies". My kids, since the moment they were born, became like the sun in my universe. They were the reason I woke up in the morning, the reason I walked about all day, and the reason I kept going when all else failed. All my energy went into them, and all my love was lavished on them. As my husband became more and more cold and hateful, the more and more it became me and the kids. He was not involved much at all in taking care of the kids prior to the divorce, and I was the one who did everything for them. They were my right arm and my left leg. The idea of losing them was incomprehensible. It was like thinking of them dying. I had been living in fear for a long time. Fear of my husband's disapproval mostly. It is very hard to explain unless you've been emotionally abused, but my husband had a LOOK. I spent a good deal of my time trying to avoid that look. It was a look that withered the soul. A look so filled with loathing and contempt you couldn't help but feel stupid, ugly, and four inches tall when it was leveled at you. I would walk constantly on eggshells trying to please him to avoid that look. The LOOK aside, I was now experiencing a level of fear that I had never known. A fear of my whole world being pulled out from under me like a rug. A fear of my reason for living being taken away.
I didn't feel depressed at this time. I was unhappy, oh Lord knows, I was unhappy. I Loved my husband, though God knows why because he didn't deserve my love. I'm just the type of person that once I love I can't just stop loving. My heart isn't given half way. I was unhappy he was leaving me. I was unhappy he wouldn't consider counseling, not even for the sake of the children. I was miserable at the thought of having to put my children through the trauma of divorce. My son, already a special needs child, is extremely emotionally sensitive, and I knew this would be super stressful on him. So I was unhappy, but I didn't think of myself as depressed. When I'm depressed I feel it is hard to get up in the morning, but I was full of action. I was doing what I needed to do to try to keep my kids. I was going around to teachers and doctors and friends and family and collecting affidavits of the truth to fight the lies ( I had 24 affidavits to his 4 when I was done ). I was a woman of action and prayer. Never have I cried out to God like I cried during those long months of the custody battle and divorce hearings. I was literally on my knees every Sunday in church, weeping and pleading with the Lord for his help and his mercy. After years and years of struggling with depression, it wasn't depression that finally drove me to the doctor for help.
It was sleep.
I fell into bed each night exhausted beyond belief. I'd usually fall asleep within minutes, or even seconds. The problem was, I'd wake up a few hours later, usually at 2 or 3 am. My brain would start spinning and I couldn't go back to sleep. The exhaustion was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It wasn't just physical - it was mental, emotional and spiritual exhaustion as well. I was constantly shaking, my stomach was constantly roiling like a pot of witches brew, and I felt as if the eyes I was looking out were not even my own. The disconnect from my own mind was huge.
I'd been going to my doctor for years. He knew me. I told him what was happening and I told him I needed a sleeping pill. I told him if I didn't sleep I was going to die. I believed it, and at that point it may very well have been closer to the truth than even I knew. He told me he wasn't going to give me a sleeping pill. He told me he was going to give me an anti-depressant. I argued with him (we have a long history of arguing actually. I like having a doctor I can argue with). I'm not depressed, I tell him, I'm tired. He proceeds to explain that my nerves are completely shot. He said that there's a box we all live in and that I'm not even in that box anymore. He says the stress of what I'm going through has caused every nerve in my body to be like a split end on my hair. I'm feeling twice the sensation on every nerve ending, it's never ending, and it's blown the box wide open, ripping it at the seams. He says it's not about depression, it's about repairing that box so I can live inside it again and not be flying around in pieces all around it.
Well, I'm paranoid as can be at this point. My soon to be ex husband has been subpoenaing everything in my life, from my diaries, to my scrapbook pages, to my personal letters, to my date books. He's been trying to get ANYTHING to back up his claims. All of a sudden that cute scrapbook page I made of Sammy when he emptied a bottle of baby powder all over his room when he was two isn't cute anymore. It's an example of what a negligent mother I am! I'm constantly looking over my shoulder. Heaven forbid I forget to brush his teeth one day, or that I let him out of the house without socks on. Every little thing is now a big thing. I tell my doctor, no way. I can't be on anti depressants. He'll just use it against me in court. Say I'm unstable. That I can't care for the kids because of it. The doctor explains to me that no court in the world would hold anti depressants against me. He said if everybody on anti depressants glowed green, Atlanta could be seen clearly glowing from outer space. He gave me 30 days of a free sample. So I didn't have to go through insurance. Did I mention I love my doctor? I took the offering and went home.
It was about August or September of 2007 by this point. I was living in the same house as my soon to be ex. He had cut me off from all funds. I had to tell him what we needed and he'd buy it if he felt like it. This, after 13 years of running the household, the budget, the lives of the whole family, I was reduced to begging for food for the kids, or clothes for the kids. He did all he could to humiliate me, to take away any security I had, and to try his best to steal all purpose from my life. Though we never fought in front of the kids, the tension in the house was so thick it was like wading through molasses just to walk or breathe. My sensitive boy started biting me at random. He'd never been a biter. Never bitten a child or me. (except once when nursing and my reaction caused him to stop that immediately!). I'd have my arm around him and we'd be looking in the fridge for lunch and all of a sudden he would chomp down on my arm. HARD! We are cuddling on the couch and all of a sudden a sharp pain radiates through my breast as he takes a fair sized bite out of the side. It was horrible. My daughter, thank God, was young enough that as long as she had mommy she was okay. She was 4 going on 5 when he left. She was sad, but mostly because everybody else was. This weird divorced life is really all she remembers and all she knows. In a way it's a blessing for her. Sammy remembers a lot about when we were a regular family, and for him it is harder.
At any rate, the pills did help me crawl back inside the box. I made it to court, and I believe admirably represented myself. I only had to be chastised once by the judge as I angrily cut off the barracuda lawyer. I tell you, this woman could sorely try the patience of Mother Theresa herself. She was the perfect compliment for my cold hearted and merciless husband, who, by the way, was the only person who actually liked her. I prevailed in court, and got primary physical custody of my children. Joint legal custody. Final decisions if we disagree are mine. So good. But this isn't about my divorce, this is about depression.
I've been on anti-depressants of one kind or the other ever since then. The whole experience of the divorce I feel changed something physically and fundamentally inside me. My Anger burns hotter these days. Quicker. I've got a new kind of depression that seems to suck the Joy out of my days. It's harder to crawl out of, and it's harder to stay out of. Even though I've got a wonderful husband, two added wonderful kids, and a pretty good life. I've been on a spiritual journey lately, seeking God for the answers. He is the only one who has them. I know, and I've blogged about this before, that forgiveness is key. I feel forgiveness of myself is a crucial step. When you are slammed so thoroughly and dragged so unrelentingly through the mud, even the lies start sounding like the truth. Every little thing I've ever done that was less than perfect as a mother starts to look bigger and more evil. I'm harder on myself for the little things. Worse, I know my ex is still looking, still making notes. Everything I do, I do in light of what HE might think, what he might say, if we go back to court. So yes, he still has some control over my actions and that, excuse my language, pisses me off to no end. It makes me mad that someday my kids will have a choice of who they live with. My ex husband's house has very few rules, he has more money so they do more "fun" stuff. Our house has rules, chores, and no money. Our fun stuff consists of going to the Library for a new book, and occasionally a movie at the dollar theater. I can't compete with six flags and vacations to California. I just can't. The only thing I have to compete with is my love and my determination to teach them what they need to know to be successful and happy in this world. Do I fear them saying "I want to go live with DADDY!" when they turn 13 or 14 and I've said "no" yet again. Yes, I do. I fear it horribly. I can't raise them with no rules and no discipline and turn out spoiled little brats because I want them to love me though! I just can't. I'd be failing them, and failing my God. So I do what I must, and I trust God. Never again though, can I be the mother who just enjoyed her children without thought. Now I must think through everything very carefully. It has taken some of the joy and some of the spontaneity out of motherhood. That in itself, is quite depressing. Life changes though, and we adjust. We adapt. That's what human beings do right?
So yes, I do what I need to do, I take my anti-depressants, and I pray for the best. I try really hard to enjoy the little moments, to take pleasure in the smallest things. I try to realize that my peri-menopause is wreaking havoc with my emotions and that I'm riding out a long and crazy storm that I'm going to have to learn to fine tune for years to come. I know that GRATITUDE is key. I need to be thankful for the small things. I am. I'm grateful that my baby Abby sets her alarm for 6:30 in the morning to have a little private time with mommy before the day starts. Those few moments of her cuddling in my arms in the dark living room are moments I treasure up in my heart. More importantly, I think she treasures them in her heart. I am grateful for the moments when my Sammy smiles and laughs as he gets some joke I've shared and we meet eyes and I know how much he loves me. I'm grateful for his long, totally wasted on a boy, thick eyelashes. I call them black diamond ski slopes for the Whos down in Whoville. He finds that very funny. I am grateful for my Jackson, who will grin at me with that megawatt smile and strike a goofy pose and make all my troubles melt away for just that minute. I marvel at the things he builds with his building toys. I am grateful for Elizabeth, who loves me so much. I tell her not to cuddle me while I'm trying to eat supper so she'll slide down and give my foot a hug before bouncing away. "I figured you don't eat with your feet" she'll cheerfully say. When I'm crying, she is always the one who can make me laugh. I'm grateful for my husband making up goofy songs about things. I'm grateful he keeps singing them even when I'm in a mood and just glare at him. I'm grateful that he never holds a grudge. I'm grateful I have a God who loves me and that Jesus died for me on a cross 2000 years ago. Forgiveness and gratitude. I keep working on them both. I know they are key. Forgiveness, gratitude, and let's not forget my "happy pill".
I've come to learn that real, lasting depression is a disease. It's not a sin. It's not something you can just turn off or turn away from. You don't need a good reason to have it. Your brain decides for you. It takes medication, it takes therapy, it takes understanding family and friends. It takes Jesus. It takes your all just to keep on keeping on. You will have your good months and you will have your bad months. I'm just now to the point where I can stand back and look and really try to figure it out. I find it imperative to do so, because I can see that my son tends towards depression. I keep a very close eye on him. He is blessed, because he has a mom who is very aware of him. I will not let things get to a point of crisis with him. I am on the job. I am watching. All the time.
Life is a blessing People. Even being a person with depression I can see that. I will fight the monster of depression lurking inside me every day because life is so beautiful in so many countless ways, and living to the fullest is something I will never give up on. I have so much to live for. I have four beautiful children with limitless futures. I have a husband who loves me no matter what. I have a God who loves me even more than that. I have a roof over my head, I have food in my belly. I live in a country where I can speak freely about whatever it is that is on my mind - where I can worship my God without fear of state persecution or jail or death. Even on the verge of bankruptcy, I have more than most of the people in this whole wide world do. Life is beautiful, even if depression causes me to sometimes see the beauty through a fog.
I waited a long time to get medication for my depressive tendencies. If you are waiting because you feel shame or fear, don't. Just go get help. It isn't anything to be ashamed of. It is part of who you are, and there is help out there. Sometimes you don't even realize you are depressed. When I started to attend therapy as part of the divorce proceedings the therapist asked me "why are you so terrified of your husband?" I didn't know I was terrified. I'd lived in that state of being for so long, it didn't even register as fear. It was just life. she told me I was depressed and that is why I was so tired all the time, and why it was so hard to focus, to clean house, to get organized. I just thought that was life too. Sometimes you've been coping with a way of being for so long you don't even realize you live there. If you suspect you live there, go talk to your doctor. Try some medicine and see if it doesn't help a bit, or a lot. You'll just be one more glowing green dot that you can see from space, but you might be a happier dot.
D is also for Decision. Make the decision to put yourself first for a moment. D also stands for Destiny. It is hard to fulfill your destiny when you are wading through the pits of depression. I wish I would have received help years and years ago. I'd probably be much farther along on this road to self discovery and fulfilling my potential if I would not have spent so many years in the dark. If you are feeling your way blindly along in the darkness of depression, as I was for so many years, please come towards the light. You are so worth it.
Blessings, Tanya
Saturday, October 9, 2010
B is for baking, and big brown eyes, and C is for Cupcakes and Compassion.
Thursday and Friday this week were very tiring for me. My three youngest children and I spent from 9-3 on Thursday planning, shopping for supplies, and baking 165 cupcakes in three different flavors. The kids go to a wonderful little Christian School in Lilburn, GA and every year they get two days off school while their teachers are at a conference. During these two days they are required to do a service project taking at least 4 hours from each day. They decided to bake cupcakes, decorate them, and deliver them to the police station, the fire station and an assisted living home. I was expecting to have two exhausting days (I did this last year with two kids and it was exhuasting - I knew adding in the third child would make it even more so this year) and for it to be over, and our obligations met. Little did I know that my children and I would birth a year long project and that a fire would be lit in their little hearts (and mine) to serve in a very real way. Thursday morning started with a lot of baking. Below is Jackson cracking eggs into a Pyrex measuring cup (I figured it would be easier to pull shells out of that than directly out of the batter, but there was only one tiny fragment of shell in the whole batch!).
Here are the first two batches just out of the oven. Unfortunately, I have only one 12 cup muffin tin and two six cup ones, so I can only make 24 cupcakes at a time. I feel a strong need to get three more 12 cup muffin tins as soon as I can fit it in the budget. Mass producing cupcakes 24 at a time is REALLY time consuming. We had piano lessons at 4:30 and we baked right up until we had to leave at 3:45. We got home after lessons, had supper, and the kids had to go to bed. I spent the rest of the night baking the last batch of cupcakes and putting the plain vanilla or chocolate frosting on them. I got to bed at 12:50.
Friday morning everybody was up bright and early to start decorating. We started before 8. I don't think anybody ate breakfast, now that I think about it. Everyone was too excited. Below, Jackson and Abby are making candy corn hair on our "peeking monsters" cupcakes.
This is a precise process that takes great concentration.
Sammy carefully repairing a cupcake where some hair got too enthusiastically pushed on.
Abby's impression of our "little monster" cupcakes.
Jackson's much more subdued impression. Abby overseeing him to make sure he gets it right.
Abby piping "bloodshot lines" on our eyeball cupcakes. she said she "tried to make it a little messy so it looked actually bloodshot". she says "mom does this look bloodshot?". I said "I don't know, look at my eyes and tell me if it looks the same." Sammy is working so fast, he's a blur :)
Jackson trying his hand at piping the bloodshot eyes. He's my second youngest, but smallest child, and his tiny hands just did not have the strength to pipe that red icing. He got through about half a cupcake with determination but then his hands were just aching. Sammy did two eyeballs and had the same problem. Abby is the only one who had enough hand strength to really crank out the eyes. She was a trooper. She squeezed out those thin red lines until we had an army of tired eyes staring back at us.
one of four finished trays of cupcakes. We have from left to right, the peeking monster, the little furry monster, the running skeleton, the vampire, and the bat. Second row we have the eyeball, the ghoul, and right below the eyeball, the mummy. there are also many small green faced witches with candy corn noses, and some small halloween sprinkle cupcakes as well. I thought we managed a good variety for such a very small cottage industry!
Finally all the trays were done at around 10:45 am and I already felt like I had put in a full day. I don't know how full time teachers do it. I got a second wind as I contemplated delivering the cupcakes though, because giving them away is my favorite part! Jackson and Sammy cleaned out the back of the van and put down the seat to make a large flat area in the back to transport all the cupcakes. Jackson neglected to get OUT of the back of the van before pulling down the seat so we had a brief delay as I comforted him over the loss of his now forever crippled right leg. However, it must have been a blessed day, because he miraculously regained the use of his leg in a mere three minutes, and we were off to deliver! Those that have never ridden with me don't know what a precarious and terrifying trip this must have been for the poor cupcakes. I tend to be, let's just say, slightly leadfooted, and I also tend to brake as fast as I accelerate. It was very hard to drive slowly and moderately enough to keep 165 cupcakes happy, as well as the drivers behind me. Abby and Jackson kept a worried eye on the cupcakes as I drove to our destination. "mommy, a vampire is on it's icing!" "mommy, a mummy fell over!" "mommy, they are all squishing together on one side of the tray!"
I got some very dirty looks and a couple of honks from drivers as they passed me by, and it was all I could do not to scream out the window "Hey you losers! I'm trying to SERVE and GIVE here, give me a break!" Thankfully, I am not a road rage type girl, and I simply smiled and sent up a Jesus on the cross prayer. That's what I call "forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do!" I'm sure I was annoying, but I had to get a lot of cupcakes intact to their destination!
Finally, we reached our first destination, the Lawrenceville Fire Department. All 3 kids were beaming as we carried in a tray of our cute spooky masterpieces. Right as we got out of the car a firetruck pulled into the station so we stood there and watched and they honked and waved at us on their way in. We were immediately greeted by happy fireman who took us to their kitchen and deposited our first delivery safely on the table. A couple of firemen then consented to get their picture with the kids, and they pulled a firetruck out and let each of the kids sit in it before taking the group photo. One of the fireman indicated his fear that all the cupcakes would be gone before he got a chance to eat one.
Here are the kids right as we were about to leave for delivery. holding a try, and sampling the wares. After all, we can't give away products we haven't tasted!
Fire woman Abby to the rescue!
Fireman Jackson on the scene!
Fireman Sammy, happy to serve!
Company 15, Gwinnett fire services! They thanked us and we thanked them for all they do and I asked the kids "doesn't giving feel GREAT!" and they all were jumping up and down saying "YES!".
The school the kids attend is in Lilburn, so we decided to go give to someone in Lilburn too. So I made a few calls and we decided on the Sunrise Assisted Living Center in Lilburn. Sammy was excited to see it was the same place his class had performed at the previous year. He already felt a connection to the place, so that was pretty neat. Miss Crystal at the front desk greeted us and took us to the Bistro where residents can help themselves to treats. She said a lot of the residents had a sweet tooth and that they would love these. The kids waved and smiled at the residents as they walked by and we were invited to the Halloween party they are having and told that if we call there are always events there we could come share with the residents. It was nice to find that out!
Miss Crystal and the kids
The kids offerings in the bistro, waiting to be eaten!
Outside sunrise with some Halloween themed lollipops that Miss Crystal gave them. Isn't it interesting that a lot of times when you give, people automatically want to give you something back? I find this to be especially true when children give. It seems whenever I take the children to do service projects the recipients seem almost frantic to give them something in return. I don't know if it is because they want to reward the children for their kind hearts or what, but I've found it interesting to note.
The kids didn't just give of their time and talents for this service project. They spent about 11 hours total on the project, but also wanted to help out mom and dad for the expenses of buying all the supplies to make and deliver the cupcakes. Our kids have recently started getting an allowance. It is actually bingo tokens. Each child has a color, and they get two tokens a day if they have done all their chores. The tokens are worth a quarter. This means that if they work hard all month and do all their chores, they will earn tokens worth 2.50 a week. (I normally don't pay for weekends, I feel as if some things are done just to help the family out) At first, Sammy was trying to give me 4/5th of his hard earned allowance. He has saved earnestly since we started this and had about 20.00 worth of tokens. He was trying to give me 16.00 worth. I couldn't bear to let them part with so much after they had worked so hard to earn it and I knew it would take another two months to earn that back. So I gave them a limit of 5.00 worth of tokens. Sammy came back with 5.25. He is a smart cookie. He knew I wouldn't get on him for being only .25 cents more generous than I said. Well, this started a giving war. Each child wanted to out give the other. Jackson added two more tokens onto that. Abby added one more onto that. When Sammy started running back to his room for his token jar I put a stop to the token war once and for all! They contributed 17 dollars between them. This offset some of the considerable cost of supplies and made mommies heart grow big. There was no hesitation, and no holding back with these kids. They wanted to help. They wanted to give. If there is one thing I don't mind my kids competing against each other on, it is who can give and serve the most!
The real magic started on the way home though. We were talking about how tired we were, but how good it felt to make all those people happy. I was really only thinking aloud when I said "that was fun, but next year it would be nice to do something different." Sammy immediately agreed. He said "It is nice to thank the police men and make people happy, but nobody NEEDS cupcakes." He had just spoken my thoughts. "yes," I said "it would be nice if next year instead of thanking someone we could try to meet some real needs". Sammy started asking who were people who really needed help. I told him about homeless people, I told him about soup kitchens, I told him about woman's shelters. I told him about crisis pregnancy centers. He wanted to know what a lot of these were, and I told him in the gentlest way I knew how, but he asked question after question. "Mommy, husbands hit their wives? why did they marry them if they don't love them? How can they think they love them and hit them? Do they hit their children? Do they stay safe at the shelters? do the shelters take the children too or do they have to stay with the bad husband?" He was also concerned with the pregnancy centers. He wanted to know that the babies would be okay. It dawned on him yesterday that there were evils in the world he knew nothing of. I could see in his big brown eyes his concern as he tried to process this new information and fit it into the world he knew. I was sad because I felt like he lost just a bit of innocence, but I was glad to see that he cared. The boy without empathy continues to grow in love. Praise God! I see Compassion in his eyes.
Soon, he and I had formulated a plan. We were thinking how to best be able to serve one of these places next service day. I mentioned that to make a big difference maybe we should start now. That we should pick a place to serve next service project day and start now to plan for it so we could make a big impact. Sammy mentioned maybe asking at the school if everybody could bring one item for a baby so we could make diaper bags full of supplies for a pregnancy center or shelter. He said 75 families each bringing one item could make a big difference. I said we'd have to ask the principal if she'd allow that, but it was a great idea. We came up with each child giving one or two of their tokens each week towards the cause. Over a year this would add up to 72 dollars if each child gave two tokens a week. The other kids loved the idea when we set it to them. I pledged to the kids that if they gave from their allowance, I too would give something from my weekly spending money of 20 dollars towards the cause. We pledged that we'd look for great sales throughout the year, that we'd ask all our friends and their moms for any outgrown but still good condition diaper bags. I could see a fire light in the kids' eyes, and I felt something sparking in my heart. A year in advance I was looking forward to the next service project with a light and happy heart , not dreading it like I normally do! (I never dread serving, it was wondering "what should we do" - waiting until the last minute to think about it, never knowing, always going "well, we could make cookies for someone". Yeah, the fat girl falls back on baking every time. It's something I know well.) It felt GREAT to have a plan, to feel like we could really make a difference. Not that I'm dissing cupcakes. Cupcakes are great, and we should never stop thanking those who risk their lives to keep us safe. Not ever.
Sometimes though, we need something more. Something to inspire us at a deeper place. Something to light the fire of purpose in our hearts. Yesterday in the car, Sammy and I discovered that something. I feel like we are at the start of an adventure. I daresay it will bring my kids and I closer, working towards a common goal, and will increase their empathy and understanding of those in need. Maybe it will help them to appreciate the home they live in and the family they have just a little bit more. It will be exciting to see our savings grow, to see our supply closet increase, and next service day to assemble and deliver all the things we've collected to bless the moms and babies.
And it all started with a cupcake.
I got some very dirty looks and a couple of honks from drivers as they passed me by, and it was all I could do not to scream out the window "Hey you losers! I'm trying to SERVE and GIVE here, give me a break!" Thankfully, I am not a road rage type girl, and I simply smiled and sent up a Jesus on the cross prayer. That's what I call "forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do!" I'm sure I was annoying, but I had to get a lot of cupcakes intact to their destination!
Finally, we reached our first destination, the Lawrenceville Fire Department. All 3 kids were beaming as we carried in a tray of our cute spooky masterpieces. Right as we got out of the car a firetruck pulled into the station so we stood there and watched and they honked and waved at us on their way in. We were immediately greeted by happy fireman who took us to their kitchen and deposited our first delivery safely on the table. A couple of firemen then consented to get their picture with the kids, and they pulled a firetruck out and let each of the kids sit in it before taking the group photo. One of the fireman indicated his fear that all the cupcakes would be gone before he got a chance to eat one.
Here are the kids right as we were about to leave for delivery. holding a try, and sampling the wares. After all, we can't give away products we haven't tasted!
Delivery one accomplished, we set off down the street just two turns and less than five minutes away. The Lawrenceville Police Headquarters. It had moved from where we delivered last year, and when we saw the new building Sammy wisely insisted we give them TWO trays instead of one. It was a very big building and LOTS of people must work there. I agreed, and so Sammy and I carried in the trays while Jackson and Abby opened and held doors. The police station is always locked down tight, but there happened to be a police man in the records room when we entered, along with the records lady. They were very excited and touched by the kids offering. The police officer looked with amazement at the cupcakes and said "you kids made these??" and "wow! That's so nice! you must have worked so hard!" The kids, of course, were just beaming. They said they would take them down and put them in the break room and they'd probably be gone in an hour. That seemed to please the kids to no end.
The kids with the nice records lady and the officer who was so touched by their gift.
Miss Crystal and the kids
Soon, he and I had formulated a plan. We were thinking how to best be able to serve one of these places next service day. I mentioned that to make a big difference maybe we should start now. That we should pick a place to serve next service project day and start now to plan for it so we could make a big impact. Sammy mentioned maybe asking at the school if everybody could bring one item for a baby so we could make diaper bags full of supplies for a pregnancy center or shelter. He said 75 families each bringing one item could make a big difference. I said we'd have to ask the principal if she'd allow that, but it was a great idea. We came up with each child giving one or two of their tokens each week towards the cause. Over a year this would add up to 72 dollars if each child gave two tokens a week. The other kids loved the idea when we set it to them. I pledged to the kids that if they gave from their allowance, I too would give something from my weekly spending money of 20 dollars towards the cause. We pledged that we'd look for great sales throughout the year, that we'd ask all our friends and their moms for any outgrown but still good condition diaper bags. I could see a fire light in the kids' eyes, and I felt something sparking in my heart. A year in advance I was looking forward to the next service project with a light and happy heart , not dreading it like I normally do! (I never dread serving, it was wondering "what should we do" - waiting until the last minute to think about it, never knowing, always going "well, we could make cookies for someone". Yeah, the fat girl falls back on baking every time. It's something I know well.) It felt GREAT to have a plan, to feel like we could really make a difference. Not that I'm dissing cupcakes. Cupcakes are great, and we should never stop thanking those who risk their lives to keep us safe. Not ever.
Sometimes though, we need something more. Something to inspire us at a deeper place. Something to light the fire of purpose in our hearts. Yesterday in the car, Sammy and I discovered that something. I feel like we are at the start of an adventure. I daresay it will bring my kids and I closer, working towards a common goal, and will increase their empathy and understanding of those in need. Maybe it will help them to appreciate the home they live in and the family they have just a little bit more. It will be exciting to see our savings grow, to see our supply closet increase, and next service day to assemble and deliver all the things we've collected to bless the moms and babies.
And it all started with a cupcake.
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