Within a few weeks, both of my kids will be off to school.

One in first grade.

One in full day kindergarten.

And for the first time in many, many, many years, I’ll be alone.

I’m so nervous about this next chapter in our lives, not because I think my kids won’t benefit from and even prefer this new set up, because I know they will.  I’m nervous for selfish reasons.

I don’t want to be alone.

I run into so many people who ask questions about the kids and their ages, who have no idea about my history and they seem so excited that my kids will no longer be at home with me throughout the day. “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH ALL OF YOUR TIME?!” they ask.  I would probably feel different, no, I know I would feel differently if I had James and Jake strolling around the house for me to keep me busy.

But I don’t.

I promise to you, I am okay.  The quiet is going to be really difficult to get used to but I have so many projects that I am working on that I am really excited about.  There is so much to keep me busy and I even plan to exercise.  And I can finally, finally focus on being a business owner which is what this family needs for me to do financially.

So, I guess part of me is excited, maybe the logical part.  But my heart, my heart aches knowing that all of my babies will be in the care of someone else, which is just hard because I sort of feel like I am about to lose my job.

A job I really, really love.

Some days, it’s all I can do to even make the kids lunch, especially the few weeks before now when my thyroid levels were down.

And some days, I feel pretty good, especially since my thyroid dose was increased. I try not to stress over “the things”, in the end, everything must get done and in the end, only one person is going to do it. (although sometimes, Brian will go to the store for me and THAT is one of my favorite things.)

So today, when Noah came into my room at 5:20 in the AM to ask me if he could sleep with me, I said “sure!” I mean, why not? Brian had left for work and have you seen how cute this boy is? How could I say no?

He laid down and got cuddly and then said “oh! I have to go to the bathroom.” So, he went. And then he started telling me about a dream he had about me running a red light and a bumble bee that talked.

“Okay, Noah, go to sleep.”

“wait! There’s more,” he said. And he continued. His dreams are very long, very detailed.

Finally, he stopped and we laid there and he couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t sleep. His mind was probably racing with bumble bees and Mario Kart while mine raced with EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD.

Finally, he decided to go back to his room because he “missed his puppies and stuff.” It was 6:15, the sun was shining, I tucked him back into his bed.

I laid back down in my bed and all I could think about was my to-do list.

So, doing the exact opposite that I normally would have done, I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, made the bed, poured the coffee, got dressed, put on makeup and sat in silence, working, until 8:30.

It’s interesting because even though I woke up so early and I’ve been tired all day long, I’ve been a kitchen cleaning, floor mopping, toilet scrubbing, laundry doing, grocery shopping, bank going, fruit cutting, brownie baking, post writing fool.

But, still, if he ever, ever wakes me up at 5:20 in the AM again, I’m pretty sure he’s going to have to find his own apartment.

And by the way, he fell back asleep and didn’t wake up until 9:45!

I am constantly writing about how I wish my house were clean, or a little bit clean, all of the time. I realize that systems need to be in place and dedication needs to be had and I need to have the whole family on board for this to happen.

Noah, well, he’s a clean boy. And he’s a good helper, willing to clean up whenever I ask him to lend a helping hand.

Brian, well, he could use some help, but he at least helps me clean whenever I ask him to, which is a bonus, I suppose.

But Anna? Oh, my dear sweet, lovable, smart six year old daughter. SHE is a tornado. Like an F-5 that storms through the house with whatever she can get her hands on.

On one hand, it’s kind of cool because she is always playing. But on the other, she has no idea the concept of putting something away before getting something else out. I blame myself, for sure.

Anyone that knows me in real life knows what a crazy mess maker she is. They know because I OPENLY COMPLAIN about my DAUGHTER.

I can’t believe I just typed those words out for the world to read. I feel like such a jerk, such a failure, like the Mom I never wanted to be.

But it’s true. I laid in bed last night thinking about how I tell everyone how messy Anna is. Makes me so sad. Makes me so mad.

So, I’ve decided to tackle this little challenge of ours in a new way. Just between she and I. We will deal with it quietly, calmly, slowly; privately.

I think quiet, calm and slow may be my new approach to a lot of things in the future.

I just hope it works. QUICKLY.

I’m starting to accept the fact that mother nature hates me.

I hate cold weather.  So, in the cold weather months, Mother Nature makes it as cold as possible.  Painfully cold.

I love hot weather.  so, in the hot weather months, Mother Nature make it as cold as possible.  Stupid cold.  It’s July 8th and I’m pretty sure we haven’t been above 75 degrees, am I right?

Right now?  SIXTY-TWO DEGREES.  Cloudy, rainy, gross.

I totally appreciate not having to wear a jacket outside and the fact that there is no snow to shovel, but man, I WANT TO SWEAT.  I want to throw an egg on the sidewalk and watch it FRY, BABY.

I’m sick of this May weather in July.  Unless of course it means we are going to sweat in December, if that’s the case, I’ll just shut my mouth.

But I’m thinking that’s not likely.

So, give it up Miss Nature, give us the heat and make it snappy.  or else we’ll move, like soon, and bring some miserably cold weather down to the south with us.  Oh yes, we will.

I’m trying to do it all.

The ultimate Mom, a good hostess, a dedicated photographer and designer, a mediocre writer, a friendly wife, a decent friend.  I realize I’m not alone in my quest to do it all.

I don’t necessarily think I’m failing, although, I’m certain I have a few clients who would like to disagree with me and I’m also sure my husband thinks I could be a little bit friendlier.  (it was a rough week, thanks PMS, you big jerk.)

This morning I’m trying to knock out some work before cleaning my house as we have house guests coming until Sunday.  My entire family is in town, which is a rare, sacred occasion and then we have family in town on Brian’s side of the family which is a rare, sacred occasion and then I also need to toss in work into the mix and all it’s doing is giving me a deep, stressful pit in my belly.

Speaking of belly, it’s expanding at a dangerous rate, when family is in town the words “donuts” and “pizza” fill my vocabulary (and my mouth) more than usual.

In the midst of cleaning (and yes, all of the eating), there is laundry and grocery shopping and baths (for all of us) and WORK.  But most importantly, trying to get it all done quickly so we can let the relaxing and visiting begin.

But first things first…I need to get rid of this horrible, dark, stressball sitting inside of me.  I’m not sure how to go about it, but I’m thinking closing this computer and drinkings lots of coffee will be a great start.

That and a shower.  And getting an assistant.

I’m ready to let it all go so I can begin enjoying the special moments this holiday weekend holds for us.  I realize through all of the stress and the haze and the goals and the laundry that STILL life is so awesome.

I’m ready to go live it.  RIGHT NOW.  or as soon as the laundry and the work is done.

A few weeks ago, my neighborhood held their annual garage sale.  After the two day sale, we got rid of a ton of stuff and donated the rest, we also made enough money to pay for the little road trip vacation we had planned for our family.  We deemed the whole experience a big success.

One of the coolest things to happen was meeting some neighbors.  Because we moved in last July and took way too long a few months to get settled and then winter came and stayed a few months WAY TOO LONG, we had only met a few of our neighbors.  So, the weekend of our garage sale, we were able to meet so many new people and it was wonderful.

One of our neighbors, who almost shares a backyard with us, has a six year old girl who goes to the exact same school as Ariel.  Same age.  Both girls.  In the same neighborhood and we had no idea.  A few hours after her Mom and I realized we have the perfect play date arrangement, she brought her daughter over.  We watched the two girls immediately connect, like they had been friends forever.

Within ten minutes, they were ready to leave and the two girls gave eachother the biggest hugs goodbye.  For the rest of the day, all Ariel did was talk about her new “best friend.”  All day long.  She drew her pictures and created dream playdates in her mind and shared her big ideas with me.

Later that night, her Mom and I emailed and found that both girls were reacting the same way to each other.  They instantly shared so much love.  They had no barriers, they hid nothing, they were just happy to have found eachother.  I said to her Mom, “wouldn’t it amazing if everyone was like that?  If we all just acted and reacted how we wanted without thinking about what the other person would think?”

And which point her Mom and I started hugging and running around the yard holding hands.  I’M KIDDING.

But it did make me think about blogging and friendships and how sometimes bloggers have an instant connection just like that once meeting.  Because we get to read about what is REALLY going on inside someone’s heart and mind.  There is no hiding, usually.  Most bloggers, the good ones, are real.  They talk about their dark days and their laundry piles and how their kids and husbands make them crazy sometimes.  They write about eating too much and not being able to keep up with the other Moms in the PTO.

But the Moms we meet at the school and on the street, well, there are always walls and facades and it’s not that anyone is doing anything wrong, it’s just that that is how we are programmed. It always feels like a competition to me to see who has it all together.  I make no secret to anyone I meet…I DO NOT.  (but I still won’t let people see my house messy.  I’m working on it.  I swear.  P.S. it’s always messy.)

I’ve been thinking about how people refer to online friends as “friends” with the big quotation marks and how some people don’t really view them as real.  When really, it’s those friendships, the ones where we let others really see whats inside that ARE real.

The virtual community can have it’s lemons, there are sickos and jerks and people who are just dishonest and mean.  But for the most part, it’s a really amazing place, connecting really amazing people.  I have found that I really know less about people I have known for years and years “IRL*” then those I have met and shared with through blogging.

Makes me wish everyone could see why blogging really is so amazing.  It’s an experience that is big, new and wonderful and one that should be accepted and encouraged because it’s not going away anytime soon.

Thank God.

*in real life.  For those non-virtual folks.

To me, summer is one long weekend.  I realize this makes me incredibly lucky, I’m not complaining, suddenly my weekends and my weekdays are turned around.  I want to get up early on weekends and I end up sleeping late during the week.  (but I usually just sleep late everyday because it’s fun)

During the school year, we hold a very rigid schedule.  Our kids are in bed at 7:30 and they wake up at 7:15 in the morning.  We would always have dinner at 5:45, baths would happen at 6:30.  The only nights we’d let them stay up a little late would be Friday and Saturday, where they could stay up until 8:15 or so, but they would still end up waking up at seven on the weekend and they would spend their weekends a little on the cranky side.

Now that it’s summer, I’m beyond excited that we can let go of that strict school schedule.   The only problem is, I’m already starting to feeling guilty and it’s only been three days.

Why?

Because we are sleeping too late.   Actually, I am sleeping too much.  I adore sleep, back in my prime, I could go on almost no sleep, all of the time.  And then something happened and now sleep and I are the best of friends.  I can’t get enough, I could do it all day long.  (I don’t do it all day long, but I could.)

The kids sleeping in is wonderful, they’ve been going to bed at 8:45 or so and sleeping until nine.  That’s when they wake me up.  And I go to bed at 11:30.

That’s a lot of sleep.

And then around three in the afternoon, I usually take a 30 minute nap.

I’m thinking that once your body gets used to a lot of sleep, you become tired more easily.  So, I need to sleep less.  I’m just not sure how to accomplish that and honestly, I’m not sure I want to.  Admittedly, since starting this new schedule with the abundance of sleep, I have had headaches every single day.

So, do I force myself to wake up at 7:30 in the morning and get some work done during the beautiful silence or do I just sleep when I want, because it’s IS summer after all?  And well, sleep is awesome.

You tell me.  And I’ll do it.

Nothing went as planned, nothing was picture perfect about my labor and delivery when I had Anna.  My blood pressure was high, I had to be on magnesium sulfate, I then had a c-section and then she was taken away because she wasn’t breathing properly.  She was intubated.  There was a sign on her hospital bed that read “do not touch.”

The sign was for me.

Once she came home, the sleepness nights nearly killed me, every night I thought I was going to die.  I remember thinking “what we were thinking?  WE PLANNED THIS?“  Anna was born a few weeks before my birthday.  I can remember well-meaning family members saying “well, you got your birthday present.”

This? This is my birthday present?   Sleepless nights?  Swollen boobs?  No showers?  Endless laundry?  The biggest, grossest, squishiest belly I have ever seen?  My hormones gone wild?  This is my birthday present?

um, thanks, but no thanks.

I felt guilty for my negative thoughts, I had never heard of woman not LOVING motherhood.  What was wrong with me?  These thoughts sunk me further into my depression.

When I would complain and cry to my husband he would look at me like I was an alien.  He did not know what to do with me, I hated that my husband thought I was crazy.   We just didn’t know.

When Anna was thirteen weeks old, I went back to work.  I can remember after  the first two hours I started to feel like me again.  I had thoughts and ideas and REAL LIFE CONVERSATIONS with REAL LIFE PEOPLE.    I realized then that after having Anna, the problem wasn’t with her, it was that I was lost.  I was forgotten.  Not just by me, but by everyone.

People would come over to meet the baby and it was like I didn’t exist.  I was okay with that, though.  I wanted to talk about the baby, I loved the baby.  I walked into work and people would say “how’s the baby?”

In hindsight, I’m realizing how hard it was to go from adored pregnant woman, who wasn’t even allowed to get her own glass of water to the person who was in charge of herself, her home and this new human being that could do nothing for herself.

In theory, I knew it was going to happen, but I just didn’t know what it was going to FEEL like.  I did not know how hard it was going to be.

Four months after Anna was born, I found out I was pregnant with Noah.  I felt fear, guilt, anger, horror and just a smidge of excitement.

But only a smidge.

Once Noah was born, my depression deepened.  After another c-section and another child intubated after birth, another sign not allowing me to touch my baby, along with having another baby at home, it was all I could do to face the day.  But I always did, because I was A MOM and I loved my babies so much.

With my second pregnancy I went to a new doctor’s office, a female doctor, she seemed to understand being a woman a little better than my previous OB.   At my six week check up she asked “how are YOU?”  It was her first question.  And she looked AT me when she asked me.  I told her that I was feeling pretty down about things, not feeling like me, etc.

She began treating me for depression at that appointment.  Not just with medication but with advice and conversation.

After having a baby, it took me so long to find myself again.  It’s like I lost that once spunky, fun person once I was midst the poopy diapers and the middle of the night feedings.  My identity was my baby.

It took me years to become me again.  The real me.  I never once didn’t love my children, but there were many moments where I did not love me.

Time.  It just took time.

I think we forget to remember other new Moms, I think husbands don’t expect depression, I think the term “baby blues” should be blown up with a grenade, because it’s more than just the blues.  As long as we call it something that simple, then that’s how it will be portrayed to society.  It’s not that simple.

And here I am, wanting nothing more than to have that experience again, because it’s all part of this journey.  This long journey called motherhood that starts with the simplicity of a stick and continues with one hundred different emotions from the moment I wake up in the morning to the second I lay my tired head down on my pillow at night.

Not every moment is squishy cheeks and giggles.  Since becoming a mother I have experienced more pain than I could have ever imagined, so much frustration.  And the heartbreak, oh my God, the heartbreak.

But I’ll take it all.  I’ll put it all in my basket and keep it for me because all of this, all of them, every experience I’m dealt, the good, the funny and now the grief, well, it’s all a part of me now.

And I really, really like what I’ve become.

I told her I would color with her.

She had accidentally ripped an earring out of her ear as she put on her pajamas.  She cried so hard.  It hurt her.  I tried to soothe her before putting the earring back into her ear, but she was scared of more pain.

She continued to scream and she began to sweat.  She was feeling fear.  I told her I would color with her.

I never take the time to color with her.

She loves to color and she loves me.  For her, it’s a perfect combination.  She thought that sounded very nice.  She bravely faced me as I placed the earring back in her ear.  She told me she was tired and I told her I would lie down on my bed with her.

She said “and color?”

I told her no.  She decided we should go downstairs to color.

We began to color.  Within two minutes she asked about James and Jake.  “were they so little?”  “did you hold them?”

I wonder how often she thinks about them.  About that time where there was such darkness.  I often fear for her because she remembers.

The sadness.  The anger.  The depression.  The unknown.  I decided to take her upstairs to “the chest.” It holds everything.  I showed her their footprints and she laughed and said “how cute.”  She said “are those James’ feet and those are Jake’s?”  I looked at the back of the paper where their names were written and she was exactly right.

I showed her the hats they wore, the blankets that kept them warm.  She smelled them.  I smelled them, too.

We shared so much more, tender musings, but I’ll keep them between me and her.  But I know, they would have loved her so much.  (I know they do love her so much.)

I felt the paper that held their tiny prints with my fingertips, realizing that THEY once touched this paper.  They were real.  Not a dream.  Tears filled my eyes.  We headed downstairs for more coloring.

The time we are going through right now is not the same, but it’s very dark and I’m wondering if she can feel it.  I wonder if she can see it.  I wonder if she worries.

We colored for a long time.  Flowers, birds, the sun and clouds.  Her beautiful name, Anna, written on paper and surrounded by color and life.

I wonder if she knows how loved she really is.  I wonder if I show it enough.  I wonder if she truly is happy.

I hope she can feel her guardian angels.

Something is wrong with me.  I am not feeling like myself and I don’t like it all.

I instantly want to blame my thyroid, with my history of Hashimoto’s, it’s easy to do, but I’m fully aware that sometimes that diagnosis can be a crutch, a way to prevent you from improving upon things that can be taken care of with simple life changes as opposed to seeking medical attention.

I’m emotional.  I’m tired.  I’m short tempered.  I haven’t really laughed in a while.

When I say tired?  I mean TIRED.  Not just tired, but I could literally sleep all day long.  I don’t…but that’s all I’d like to do.  Throughout the day I daydream about crawling into bed and just blissfully falling asleep and staying there for as long as I want.

At night, I sleep wonderful.  Anywhere between 7-8 hours every single night, sometimes, maybe on the weekends, I may sleep even more than that.

But my dreams…my dreams are so strange and detailed and frustrating, they’re exhausting.

I think about how selfish it is that I want to sleep during the day, even though it will never happen.  Instead of wishing for sleep, I should be wishing for energy to play with my children and do laundry and weed the garden.

I beat myself up for being selfish.

Something is wrong with me.

I’m wondering if I’m fighting off an illness and so my body is drained and everything about me, my typically positive demeanor and my ability to laugh are silent, can I blame an illness that may or may not be?

I had blood work drawn on Friday, which is interesting because on Friday I felt fine, it was a scheduled thyroid check.  I’m interested in what will come back, but I’m not counting on anything being off.

I don’t know much, but I do not that I HATE feeling this way and something has to change.

And no, I am not pregnant.  Just tired, frustrated, lonely, angry and emotional.  I feel like I’m feeling nothing.  I’m just flat.

That is all.