May: One Big Bad Ball-o-Stress

We've just survived a horrendously over scheduled week here at our house, with only two more to go until school gets out, Dad's play starts, and Mom's job schedule switches into something different (and hopefully a little more manageable). During May we have choir concerts, and dance recitals, and end of the year funness for the kids. Add that to our already hectic schedule and you get an awful lot of rannin' around.

I want them to enjoy it. I also want to be able to enjoy watching them perform. However what is actually happening is Mom turning into a revolving (rotating? spinning? oh well moving in some sort of circular fashion) ball-o-stress.

I'd explain, but it would take way too long and you'll get bored. So I'll sum up with this example. Saturday both girls had dance recitals, which for extra fun were scheduled at 2 different times. Girl #2 had to be ready and in position 30 min after Girl #1 finished her recital. Now I would insert a complaint here, but other moms had more girls in the recitals and had to watch even more dances than we did. Suffice it to say that the studio my girls attend has lots AND LOTS of classes. Briefly here is how the day went.

• Dad leaves before mom with the boys to pick up flowers and save seats
• Mom finishes getting the girls ready and is already sweating profusely from having used a flat iron to curl hair for the last 30 min and we load the car.
• Car returns home 2 times to pick up forgotten items.
• We show up 10 min late for Girl #1 to be in position but luckily Dad arrived early and has saved seats.
• Girl #1 performs, does get job, tears are shed. Recital continues for another 45 min.
• Dad leaves recital early (but after seeing & filming Girl #1) to get to play practice.
• Recital #1 runs long, leaving Mom 15 min to get Girl #1 out of her costume (after pictures taken) and Girl #2 into costume (with pictures taken), move the car to a closer spot, force everyone to eat lunch quickly, send Aunt to save seats for recital #2 and drop Girl #2 off at her designated spot. Again we are about 10 min late.
• Watch another hour of dances. Dad is now gone, so Mom attempts to record (badly) Girl #2 dancing, worry about zooming in/out, catching the entire dance (oh wait Girl #2 is now out of camera view - aaahhh). Girl #2 finishes, Mom tries to quickly gather the bags of lunch, costumes, street clothes, and games to keep other kids occupied, her purse, 3 children, 1 aunt, and 2 grandparents and leave the auditorium as quickly and quietly as possible.
• END SCENE

Are you sweating yet? It was a crazy crazy day. And really the only part I was able to enjoy was sitting at USwirl with the kids when all the had to do things were done. I guess I can be proud that I showed up and cared and have some sort of video evidence of what happened that can be viewed with rested eyes at a later date. Again some people didn't have that, so I should be grateful. But I worry about the lesson I'm teaching my kids. Add another thing to the growing list of items that need to be handled differently now.

I've recently been diagnosed with anxiety (read more about that here). Finally I have a diagnosis and treatment that is working . . . . slowly. I no longer have weekly panic attacks lasting several days and I haven't had trouble getting dressed or into the shower since I started taking my meds. But I still don't handle stress the way I used to. I'm beginning to see that there are some things that just won't go back to the way they used to be. Not just because of this condition but because I've gotten older and my memory isn't as good. And I just can't push myself the same way I could when I was 18 or 25. Though I absolutely love change, it isn't always easy to accept or deal with.

When I was first married, I managed to attend school full time, work full time, clean the house, fix meals, and still have a complete and coherent conversation with my husband at the end of the day.  Even the thought of that, now makes me want to take a nap. In the last 12 months my kids have had to adjust from the mom who did everything, to the mom who could do nothing, to the mom who can do most things but needs lots of help. 

Hopefully this whole experience/trying time/trial will end up being good for our family and we'll learn lots that we wouldn't have otherwise be able to learn. For now, I worry that all my kids will remember from their big events is how stressed Mom was. So I'm working on relearning the lessons of asking for and accepting help when I need it AND saying no to things sometimes. It's hard. I know, understatement, if it was easy I would just do it and not spend time telling you about it. I'm also sure that you all have stuff that you are doing right now that is hard too. Let's all band together to find the courage to admit to ourselves sometimes hard is worth it. Sometimes saying no to that activity you really wanted to attend means that you can sit and read a book with one of your kids instead. Sometimes saying no means you can go to bed on time or maybe a little bit early. Sometimes it means you teach your kids to be able to do more things on their own, and they surprise you with how responsible they can be. And sometimes its still hard and all you can do is cry about it and then move on.

Right now, the lesson I want my kids to learn is Mom isn't perfect. She does her best to attend your events, listen to your stories, and support you in all you do. But it is okay if the day isn't perfect. In the end she loves you. That is what I want them to remember.

The power of "I can do it!"

The Little Engine That Could is one of my favorite stories. I love the message "by the power of positive thinking things that appeared to impossible, and that people said you couldn't do, are achievable". At 5, or 8, or even 19 it seemed that as long as I could dream it, I could achieve it. But it isn't always about the dreaming. In the end the Little Blue Engine makes it up the hill and into the valley to save the toys not just because she thought she could, but because she worked hard and actually did it.


Phineas and Ferb live in some mystical land where they get 104 days of summer vacation, we get 78. It was a total bummer when I figured that out a few years ago. So I decided in order to make the most of those few days and so that the kids will have other activities to do than to bicker, touch, fight, scream, etc at each other, we needed to make some plans. Two years ago, in addition to a bunch of fun summer activities, I also had some things I wanted to get accomplished. Like swimming lessons and everybody learns to ride a two-wheeler bike. Though we've had swimming lessons each year, the last Stone child did not finish the bike riding task until about a month ago. There is a reason that it took many years (and a completely different parent) to get those last 2 kids up on two wheels, but that is a completely different blog post for another day.

This is the story of how my oldest learned to ride a bike. The almost youngest (she is older than her brother by one whole minute) picked up riding the easiest. Twenty minutes in the church parking lot and she was good to go, with just a little help to push off. By the next day she could do that by herself too. I thought this is going to be so easy. I'd obviously completely forgotten that potty training and shoe tying for the oldest one took three times as long as it took with the other kids. As I ran alongside and pushed him off and watched him fall or jump off over and over again, I could see in his eyes, feelings I have often felt at the bottom of the hill. I knew I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. Then inspiration hit me. I told him to say these words out loud "I can do it. I can do it." When he wobbled and wanted to stop, I held him up and he said "I can do it. I can do it."  Eventually I could let go and off he went. Each time he started from a stopped position, I could hear him say "I can do it." By the end of the day he could stop, start, turn, and peddle all by himself. No longer did he need to tell himself he could do it, because he knew he could.

Two years ago I started this post and never finished it. It sat unpublished in my list. Occasionally I'd look at it when I didn't think I had anything to say for the week. I'd read through what I had written and then put it away for another day. It wasn't until this weekend that I actually figured out what I needed to learn from this little incident. I've had lots of super fun hobbies that I've picked up and put down as I've gotten busy with other things and bored with others. I've quilted and sewn, and dabbled a little bit in family history. I've attempted scrapbooking and other craftiness, and learned to cook a bunch of things from scratch.

Through it all there has always been a story to tell. In an attempt to get better at this writing thing, I've been attending a great writer's conference for the last few years. I've met friends, and attended classes, and learned from published authors, agents, and editors. I've worked hard at being brave and trying new things and generally discovering what I really want to do with this. Last weekend I spent some time with friends from an past unsuccessfully tried critique group. I had been wanting to stretch myself a little bit lot, so together we formed a new group. This one to look at whole manuscripts. Luckily everyone else is farther along than me, so I got to be last in the rotation.

I've started more than a few books/stories and had ideas for a few more, but the furthest I've ever gotten was about 65 pages written. After I got home I realized that instead of the year I thought I had, I've only got nine months to finish my first entire book. That's only 174 days to write around 80,000 words. The task sounded overwhelming. And within five minutes, I was at the bottom of the hill saying what I have said so many times before, "I know I can't. I know I can't." That was when I remembered "Z" and his bike. Many times my kids set wonderful examples for me, but I also want to set an example for them. That I can make a goal, follow through and accomplish it. So I broke that huge impossible sounding number of 80,000 down into a daily task of about 500 words. That may still seem like a lot but this post currently sits at over 900 words (and I'm still typing).

So in the spirit of Zachary I will say "I can do this!" from now on. I will show my kids that I don't just preach but I follow through on the hard things too. And almost exactly nine months from today I will have a draft of my first book finished. Even if it's horrible and needs to be severely edited, it will at least be complete. And that alone is a very big accomplishment.