Taking a break

I've started this post several times but haven't been able to put the words together. . . .

Today is the last Monday of school and due to the busyness of summer, Mom Advice Mondays will be sporadic at best until school starts back up in August.

I've got lots of explanations but the main one is that I'm currently in danger of stretching myself too thin and until we get our new activities/job/schedules/routine worked out my brain just isn't going to be able to pull the funny/interesting/spiritual together enough to post valuable info here. 

Hopefully you won't be too disappointed and may even still be around when posts return to regularity.  Have an awesome summer.

Liz

Where in Liz tries to lose her mind but never really can

 

I missed Mom Advice Monday last week. May 4th & 5th I'd attended a writer's conference. It was my first BRAVE test of the year. Results were mixed (I might tell you more later - that'd have to be a whole other test of brave that I'm just not ready for yet). Due to the fact that I'd been sick at the conference and hadn't slept well all week, I was still recovering on Monday. I felt better the next day and thought about posting then. But Mom Advice Tuesday doesn't have the same ring to it and I'd have to make my husband invent a new graphic . . . So I just decided that my brain would be more helpful and productive a week later. That isn't what happened so today's advice will be full of all things random.

1.  The last two Sunday's I've been really weepy for a variety of reasons. It hasn't helped that whoever is picking the songs seems to have some secret list of "These songs make Liz cry EVERY time, for maximum impact please pick at least three." The lesson I want to my kids to learn is that sometimes you cry when you are happy. The lesson I think the kids are learning is that when mom leans over and says nice things about you in your ear she makes a really ugly face and then her eyes leak . . . a lot. So maybe you should be naughty in church next week so that doesn't happen anymore.

2.  I have one shy child. All the others boldly go whenever they are asked. The shy one is so much more like me. Once he is comfortable, you'll forget how much work it took him in the beginning. You might even forget how shy he truly is. Yesterday he didn't want to go to the front of the church and sing. Instead he wanted to sit in my lap and cuddle. I think both options are equally valid.

3.  May is always busy. I should stop pretending it's not.

4.  I started a new job. It's the best job ever (and yes I've said that before about other things I've done that didn't turn out to be all that great, but this is the best job ever). I'm going to be teaching kids to sew. I enjoy to sew and to quilt--they are not the same--but it is a very expensive hobby. One that I've put in the closet to help with the "get out of debt" plan. But now I'll be able to do it again, because I'll be getting paid. I only have to work a few hours a week, and my bosses are other moms. When asked if I could come in for training and I said "No, it's #2's dance recital." They totally understood. So now I can do something I love, and get paid, and still show up to all things important to my kids. BEST. JOB. EVER.

5.  I believe one of the best ways to teach your kids is by example. Because I believe this, I do lots of (perfectly normal) things that are extremely hard for me. I put on my brave face that says "See this isn't bad. Mom does it, so you can too." Afterward I go into my bedroom and fall apart. It is from this state that my husband very lovingly tries to put back all my pieces. All the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put Humpty together again. But my husband can, and does on a regular basis. He finds every single piece and puts them back in place stronger then they were before. He is the reason that I can again leave the room to do more hard things. He is the reason that I appear to have everything together. I am able to mother my kids, because I have someone by my side who they call Dad.  

It all comes down to this . . . .

Okay it really doesn't but I needed a good title for what I'm sure will be a rambling post because my insides are so tied up in knots it's hard to think straight (see I'm already rambling).

I've often wondered how people do "crazy" things like jump out of airplanes or race anything really fast, or work in a dangerous occupation where many die. When I was younger I worked hard to not divulge my fear of heights. I road all the roller coasters, water slides, Ferris Wheels, sky rides, etc. The whole time trying to have my face not show the internal trauma I was feeling, knowing we would all soon be plummeting to our doom. But I couldn't hide it once the ride started because I'm a screamer. (You have all now been officially warned) I'm pretty good at it too. My screaming starts off as something you'd hear in a horror movie, not the startled scream but the one that comes out of the victim's mouth just after she realizes she stands face to face with the bad guy. And if the drop is long enough my scream turns from that loveliness (sorry seatmates) to some sort of feral tribal death moan. Oh yes, it is oh so pretty.

Shortly after I finished my college degree my husband and I visited Disney World. We didn't have kids yet and didn't go with friends. Scott wanted to ride Tower of Terror, which has like an 87 story drop or something. I didn't want him to have to ride alone, and I didn't want to wait alone while he rode without me, so I agreed to go on this crazy ride. We'd been married for a few years at this point and he'd known about my problem with heights for a while, so he said "If you're sure." (I wasn't but nodded my head yes anyway) and off we went. The whole time in line my heart raced and my brain ran around in circles with all the nasty scenarios of what could possibly happen. My hands got shaky and my whole system was so full of adrenaline that I actually had myself convinced they were going to drop the elevator when we were standing to watch the story film (if you haven't been there before this happens before you even enter the loading area). After the ride, I went numb. Head and extremities totally incapable of rational thought or movement for at least an hour after we were safely planted on stable ground.

That same shaky, heart racing, adrenaline pumping feeling is what started happening this morning. And I'm not planning on jumping out of any windows or visiting an amusement park. Tomorrow my writer's conference starts. I haven't been filled with as much excitement/terror since right before each of my kids was born. This time I'm trying to bring a different kind of life into the world, one that has been baking for over three years. Months ago when I mustered off the courage to send some of my work out into cyberspace I thought that was brave. But while it was in cyberspace real live important writer people were reading it, and critiquing it, and judging it. On Saturday I find out what they thought. I've been trying to tell myself that I just don't care what they say and I'm not really all that interested in winning the contest but in getting the feedback to improve myself. But that isn't entirely true. I want to win (and I don't because then I have to stand up in front of lots of people) and I want people to love what I've written because I love it, and it's a piece of me down on paper that I don't show to many people.

So I try to keep myself busy with all the things that need to be done at home so that Mom can be gone for 2 days and 1 night. And I print out the syllabus and obsess over which classes I'll take and what I'll wear and if I can force myself to be brave enough to go to the Publisher's mingle. But most of all I try to not fall apart and look brave on the outside when I feel like jello in the blender on the inside.

After all of my hard work, in the end it all comes down to what someone else thinks of it. And my work is out there having someone else think about it and talk about it and it is totally terrifying. If any of you out in cyberspace wouldn't mind to think happy thoughts for me around 3pm on Saturday afternoon, it would be greatly appreciated. And maybe you could say a little prayer that I keep my brave face and won't burst into tears (even if they really really like what they read).