I don't know why, really, but I'm always surprised when something pops up that I actually sort of expected to happen along the way. The latest surprise smacked me in the face this morning when I decompressed with my kids from their weekend away.
We talked things through in such a civilized manner when I actually made the decision to leave. I packed my things. We had conversations about who would take/keep what, when the kids would visit, how we would do Christmas, who we would explain things to, how we would go about that process, who would pay the bills, what child support would look like. We didn't fight tooth and nail, we didn't involve lawyers and judges. We agreed. We wrote it down. We turned it over for legaleze drafting. We read it, fixed details, signed it, returned it.
It's been 11 months. Things change. I shouldn't be surprised.
But I still am.
The things that started out so civil don't stay that way over time. I don't know if feelings get hurt or realities set in or bitterness kicks back in over time or distance or realization or what actually happens...but civility slips away. Maybe it's just nature. Maybe when you stop thinking about it all the time you get lazy about what you said you would do. Maybe you just forget. I don't know.
My heart breaks for my kids, though. And I am reminded of how carefully I must use my words. They are worth a constant, vigilant, humble effort. I will put in that effort. I will not forget.
Showing posts with label Family Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family Life. Show all posts
Monday, September 12, 2011
Monday, November 8, 2010
Blogging
I'm blogging. I make no promises regarding this post...none at all. Blogging has taken a back seat to the rest of my life over the past three months. For those of you who have been chomping at the bit (HA) waiting for a post, I apologize. Truly. Today is about biting the bullet and getting it out there...no more putting it off.
In the past, I blogged to remember things I didn't want to forget. To leave something behind to commemorate what had happened in our lives...primarily because typing happens so much more quickly than writing. My journals went by the wayside when babies came along (and really before that, because life turned into teaching and living...as it should have.)...so...I blogged to keep track of what kept happening in life, despite my lack of time to physically write it down. When things have gone crazy, I have slacked on my blog, but...I have always come back to it. Blogging has been a respite...a place to find my sanity as I babbled through it.
Such has not been the case over the past three months. I have six or seven 2- or 3-sentence-long posts in drafts that sat completely untouched in that amount of time. That's all I could come up with.
See, even in the past when things have been tough, I have wanted to remember that we made it through them. I have wanted to tell, even without detail, that we were making it. That God had provided for our needs. That through whatever garbage we struggled, we had struggled through. And it's not that we're not making it through it right now...we are...it's just...so much. More than I've wanted to share. More than I've wanted to admit. More than I've wanted to blog. I'm really still there, to be honest, but...here I am.
In three to four months, the divorce will be finalized. The past three months have brought us to that point. The kids and I moved in with my parents while we make the transition, and we'll find our own place, hopefully within a few months. We haven't worked out all the details...they're all a bit overwhelming at this point...but we're getting there. That has become my very least favorite statement in the world over the past year or two: "We'll get there." If I never hear it or say it again...I'll be fine with that.
If you pray, please pray with me. For peace and comfort for my children who didn't see this coming, and don't know what to do with it. For wisdom and protection for Seth and me as we figure it out.
I want to blog more consistently...I should just caution you...it may not be fun reading. It probably won't be fun writing.
In the past, I blogged to remember things I didn't want to forget. To leave something behind to commemorate what had happened in our lives...primarily because typing happens so much more quickly than writing. My journals went by the wayside when babies came along (and really before that, because life turned into teaching and living...as it should have.)...so...I blogged to keep track of what kept happening in life, despite my lack of time to physically write it down. When things have gone crazy, I have slacked on my blog, but...I have always come back to it. Blogging has been a respite...a place to find my sanity as I babbled through it.
Such has not been the case over the past three months. I have six or seven 2- or 3-sentence-long posts in drafts that sat completely untouched in that amount of time. That's all I could come up with.
See, even in the past when things have been tough, I have wanted to remember that we made it through them. I have wanted to tell, even without detail, that we were making it. That God had provided for our needs. That through whatever garbage we struggled, we had struggled through. And it's not that we're not making it through it right now...we are...it's just...so much. More than I've wanted to share. More than I've wanted to admit. More than I've wanted to blog. I'm really still there, to be honest, but...here I am.
In three to four months, the divorce will be finalized. The past three months have brought us to that point. The kids and I moved in with my parents while we make the transition, and we'll find our own place, hopefully within a few months. We haven't worked out all the details...they're all a bit overwhelming at this point...but we're getting there. That has become my very least favorite statement in the world over the past year or two: "We'll get there." If I never hear it or say it again...I'll be fine with that.
If you pray, please pray with me. For peace and comfort for my children who didn't see this coming, and don't know what to do with it. For wisdom and protection for Seth and me as we figure it out.
I want to blog more consistently...I should just caution you...it may not be fun reading. It probably won't be fun writing.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
I know.
I know exactly how she feels right now. Exactly. I remember the thoughts that went through my head as I lay on my bed, sobbing into my pillow.
He is so mean. He's trying to ruin my life. He doesn't want me to have any friends. That way, he doesn't have to worry about where I am or what I'm doing or who my friends are, he can be in complete control of everything I do, every second of the day. He wants me to be miserable. He likes when I get in trouble. And why did I get in trouble? What was I doing that was so wrong? I'll bet (fill-in-the-blank-friend's-name)'s parents don't tell her she has an attitude all the time. This is so stupid. I hate my life!!
Hot tears. Angry words. The injustice.
Sigh.
If I had a dollar for every time that rant went through my head when my dad disciplined me for something I had done or took something important away from me as a result of my actions...gosh, I'd have a lot of dollars. Not that those dollars would do me a lot of good right now. While my baby girl lies on her bed. Sobbing. Occasionally punctuating those sobs with, "I hate my life!"
What I didn't realize as a kid was the depth of pain my dad felt when he actually had to follow through on the discipline he threatened. That proverbial "this hurts me more than it hurts you" (to which I always responded under my breath, "yeah, right."). Tonight, Reasa's attitude about helping clean her room (displayed by slamming her boots onto the floor as she took them off) resulted in the threat, "If I see one more display of your lousy attitude tonight, Reasa, I will call Taylor's mom and tell her she can't come over tonight." The most unfortunate part of the situation is how desperately Reasa wants Taylor to be here tonight. Actually, maybe the most unfortunate part is how miserable Reasa's attitude toward me and Seth has been lately. I really thought her desperate desire to have Taylor here would outweigh her miserable attitude toward (well, especially) me lately (since Seth wasn't home yet).
I was wrong.
So, 40 minutes later, as I cleaned the kitchen (because that's what I do when I get worked up: I clean), thinking about what I needed to say with her as follow-through to my text to Taylor's mom, can I think of anything brilliant to say to her? Nope. Because all I want to do is wrap her up in my arms and cry right along with her. I despise having to follow through on threats. It would be so much easier to say, "It's ok, honey. I changed my mind. Just don't let it happen again." I know in my head that doing what I said I would do will make her think the next time she considers sassing me, or pushing it just a little bit farther, or slamming the milk down on the table just a little harder than it needs to be slammed...but oh, my heart in the meantime. And hers as well. The thought of her laying there, thinking of me as mean, or unjust, or controlling absolutely breaks my heart. But not more than the thought of her seeing me as inconsistent or irrelevant or anything less than an example of the mother she someday hopes to be. She can't see any of those things right now. But I hope she can eventually.
Probably while she's standing in her kitchen wiping syrup off the table while her daughter sobs in her own bedroom.
He is so mean. He's trying to ruin my life. He doesn't want me to have any friends. That way, he doesn't have to worry about where I am or what I'm doing or who my friends are, he can be in complete control of everything I do, every second of the day. He wants me to be miserable. He likes when I get in trouble. And why did I get in trouble? What was I doing that was so wrong? I'll bet (fill-in-the-blank-friend's-name)'s parents don't tell her she has an attitude all the time. This is so stupid. I hate my life!!
Hot tears. Angry words. The injustice.
Sigh.
If I had a dollar for every time that rant went through my head when my dad disciplined me for something I had done or took something important away from me as a result of my actions...gosh, I'd have a lot of dollars. Not that those dollars would do me a lot of good right now. While my baby girl lies on her bed. Sobbing. Occasionally punctuating those sobs with, "I hate my life!"
What I didn't realize as a kid was the depth of pain my dad felt when he actually had to follow through on the discipline he threatened. That proverbial "this hurts me more than it hurts you" (to which I always responded under my breath, "yeah, right."). Tonight, Reasa's attitude about helping clean her room (displayed by slamming her boots onto the floor as she took them off) resulted in the threat, "If I see one more display of your lousy attitude tonight, Reasa, I will call Taylor's mom and tell her she can't come over tonight." The most unfortunate part of the situation is how desperately Reasa wants Taylor to be here tonight. Actually, maybe the most unfortunate part is how miserable Reasa's attitude toward me and Seth has been lately. I really thought her desperate desire to have Taylor here would outweigh her miserable attitude toward (well, especially) me lately (since Seth wasn't home yet).
I was wrong.
So, 40 minutes later, as I cleaned the kitchen (because that's what I do when I get worked up: I clean), thinking about what I needed to say with her as follow-through to my text to Taylor's mom, can I think of anything brilliant to say to her? Nope. Because all I want to do is wrap her up in my arms and cry right along with her. I despise having to follow through on threats. It would be so much easier to say, "It's ok, honey. I changed my mind. Just don't let it happen again." I know in my head that doing what I said I would do will make her think the next time she considers sassing me, or pushing it just a little bit farther, or slamming the milk down on the table just a little harder than it needs to be slammed...but oh, my heart in the meantime. And hers as well. The thought of her laying there, thinking of me as mean, or unjust, or controlling absolutely breaks my heart. But not more than the thought of her seeing me as inconsistent or irrelevant or anything less than an example of the mother she someday hopes to be. She can't see any of those things right now. But I hope she can eventually.
Probably while she's standing in her kitchen wiping syrup off the table while her daughter sobs in her own bedroom.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Shaking my head
Today we will do something I knew would happen. I will admit I expected it would happen sooner than this...but...it sort of did. ;)
Today, the girls become roommates again.
While searching for houses last summer the girls absolutely insisted that they wanted their own bedrooms. They understood early in the process that if we could only find a house with three bedrooms that fit our budget, they would have to room together, but we did look for four bedrooms with their request in mind. It just so happened that the house we fell in love with (both of them, actually) had 4 bedrooms, and the second had 4 bedrooms and enough space for a classroom. The girls got their wish. And thoroughly enjoyed personalizing their own spaces for the first time. Reasa couldn't wait to have her room always neat and tidy...just the way she likes it. Lainie anticipated loud music, walls plastered with her designs, and bright colors. For the first few months, all was well with their world.
Sometime mid-winter, Lainie decided...maybe the basement wasn't her favorite place to be. It is far away from the rest of the bedrooms (and secretly, this has always bugged me--hence the telephone at the head of her bed, and the cell phone under my pillow every night). Basement noises "creep you out." Yucky spiders (or freaky other bugs) sometimes hide in your bedroom. Having overnight guests in your room (even if said guest is your brother or sister) is more difficult on even a carpeted floor in the basement. And frankly, being alone? Not all it's cracked up to be. It's lonely and boring having your own bedroom. Sleepovers in Bryson and Reasa's rooms became common occurrences. The occasional "fort night" in the family room suddenly wasn't so occasional. Despite the desire to have their own spaces and express their own personalities on their own...the girls really missed each other.
"I told you so" seems appropriate here. :) But in the best possible way.
I love that my girls love each other enough to give up their own space and their own things and their own little bit of comfort to be together. I love that most of the time when they have slept together, they have begged Bryson to join them. This summer has been one big sleepover...I can't remember the last time each of them slept in his or her own bed. Even in Reasa's room, she's usually on the floor to accommodate one of the other two ("Lainie needs a good night's sleep tonight because she has gymnastics early in the morning.")(even on days when she had swimming on that same morning).
So, today, Seth is taking apart beds, reassembling them into their bunk bed form, we're sorting out clothing and closets, deciding what will stay downstairs and where desks will end up (Lainie is giving hers to Bryson, since both of the girls technically have two right now, and Lainie never uses the one in her bedroom), and we're repurposing bookshelves. And tonight, my kids will sleep where I like them sleeping...all on the same floor as me and on mattresses. Maybe. We'll see were Bryson ends up tonight. :)
Today, the girls become roommates again.
While searching for houses last summer the girls absolutely insisted that they wanted their own bedrooms. They understood early in the process that if we could only find a house with three bedrooms that fit our budget, they would have to room together, but we did look for four bedrooms with their request in mind. It just so happened that the house we fell in love with (both of them, actually) had 4 bedrooms, and the second had 4 bedrooms and enough space for a classroom. The girls got their wish. And thoroughly enjoyed personalizing their own spaces for the first time. Reasa couldn't wait to have her room always neat and tidy...just the way she likes it. Lainie anticipated loud music, walls plastered with her designs, and bright colors. For the first few months, all was well with their world.
Sometime mid-winter, Lainie decided...maybe the basement wasn't her favorite place to be. It is far away from the rest of the bedrooms (and secretly, this has always bugged me--hence the telephone at the head of her bed, and the cell phone under my pillow every night). Basement noises "creep you out." Yucky spiders (or freaky other bugs) sometimes hide in your bedroom. Having overnight guests in your room (even if said guest is your brother or sister) is more difficult on even a carpeted floor in the basement. And frankly, being alone? Not all it's cracked up to be. It's lonely and boring having your own bedroom. Sleepovers in Bryson and Reasa's rooms became common occurrences. The occasional "fort night" in the family room suddenly wasn't so occasional. Despite the desire to have their own spaces and express their own personalities on their own...the girls really missed each other.
"I told you so" seems appropriate here. :) But in the best possible way.
I love that my girls love each other enough to give up their own space and their own things and their own little bit of comfort to be together. I love that most of the time when they have slept together, they have begged Bryson to join them. This summer has been one big sleepover...I can't remember the last time each of them slept in his or her own bed. Even in Reasa's room, she's usually on the floor to accommodate one of the other two ("Lainie needs a good night's sleep tonight because she has gymnastics early in the morning.")(even on days when she had swimming on that same morning).
So, today, Seth is taking apart beds, reassembling them into their bunk bed form, we're sorting out clothing and closets, deciding what will stay downstairs and where desks will end up (Lainie is giving hers to Bryson, since both of the girls technically have two right now, and Lainie never uses the one in her bedroom), and we're repurposing bookshelves. And tonight, my kids will sleep where I like them sleeping...all on the same floor as me and on mattresses. Maybe. We'll see were Bryson ends up tonight. :)
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I sincerely hope you have an amazing family.
What brought that up? The fact that I have one. And as a result of that incredible truth, I think everyone else should too.
I posted a status update this morning that said something about the fact that today is Tuesday and it's raining and it's the perfect day to accomplish something (as opposed to the last two days, basically). A friend quickly pointed out that, "umm, Mindy, it's Wednesday!" Why did I wake up this morning thinking today was Tuesday despite the fact that all of the events of the day (and last night, etc.) point directly to that obvious fact? Probably because the previous 36 hours of my life caused my brain not to register the fact that 36 actual hours have passed, and, it is, indeed, Wednesday. And those 36 hours we spent mostly with my family. Family who makes time go so quickly and so sweetly that you seriously just don't realize it has slipped by until you discover just how exhausted you actually feel.
The kids and I made a whirlwind trip to Rochester on Monday to cheer for and celebrate my brother's photography studio's Open House event (Studio 180). The kids couldn't wait to see their cousins, hang out with their favorite babysitter in the entire universe (thank God for Lauren), and stay up waaaaaay past their bedtimes while Mommy and the other grown-ups laughed, listened to fabulous music, and ate delectable sweets (and some delicious hors d'oeuvres)(that word is impossible). Spending that entire evening visiting with my parents, my brother's (awesome) in-laws, and my sisters reminded me just how fortunate I am. So fortunate. The night was a smashing success, the place was packed, and the response...overwhelmingly positive.
We got home way too late (1:15), slept far too little (till 7)(well, Paul and Sarah got up before that--Paul had to be at work at 7), and the kids got up early...before I did...rifling through legos and furry friends. In the span of 6 hours, I got to snuggle my nieces and nephews and chat with my sisters about everything from home education to preschool to jobs and finances and marriage and decorating. Tearing my children out of both of their homes required nearly super-human strength, especially going on very little sleep. How many people can say they adore their sisters-in-law and consider them two of their dearest friends? How many parents don't have to mediate one single argument between 5-7 children even once in 24 sleep-deprived hours? Even on the 2.5 hour trip home (with an hour break to stop and see MeMe and Ompy in the middle), the only actual complaint I heard from my children had to do with a hungry belly. Call it Residual Family Happiness.
Incredible. Wouldn't trade it for anything.
So proud of Paul. And of Sarah, who is an amazing, supportive woman/wife/mother/artist/educator/person-in-general. Paul couldn't have done this without her, and he would tell you that. So grateful for Kevin and Jenn and their friendships and love. So amazingly blessed by my parents and the roles they have played as mentors, teachers, supporters, guardians, grandparents, and friends.
Blessed and grateful. Great way to start a day. A Wednesday, even.
What brought that up? The fact that I have one. And as a result of that incredible truth, I think everyone else should too.
I posted a status update this morning that said something about the fact that today is Tuesday and it's raining and it's the perfect day to accomplish something (as opposed to the last two days, basically). A friend quickly pointed out that, "umm, Mindy, it's Wednesday!" Why did I wake up this morning thinking today was Tuesday despite the fact that all of the events of the day (and last night, etc.) point directly to that obvious fact? Probably because the previous 36 hours of my life caused my brain not to register the fact that 36 actual hours have passed, and, it is, indeed, Wednesday. And those 36 hours we spent mostly with my family. Family who makes time go so quickly and so sweetly that you seriously just don't realize it has slipped by until you discover just how exhausted you actually feel.
The kids and I made a whirlwind trip to Rochester on Monday to cheer for and celebrate my brother's photography studio's Open House event (Studio 180). The kids couldn't wait to see their cousins, hang out with their favorite babysitter in the entire universe (thank God for Lauren), and stay up waaaaaay past their bedtimes while Mommy and the other grown-ups laughed, listened to fabulous music, and ate delectable sweets (and some delicious hors d'oeuvres)(that word is impossible). Spending that entire evening visiting with my parents, my brother's (awesome) in-laws, and my sisters reminded me just how fortunate I am. So fortunate. The night was a smashing success, the place was packed, and the response...overwhelmingly positive.
We got home way too late (1:15), slept far too little (till 7)(well, Paul and Sarah got up before that--Paul had to be at work at 7), and the kids got up early...before I did...rifling through legos and furry friends. In the span of 6 hours, I got to snuggle my nieces and nephews and chat with my sisters about everything from home education to preschool to jobs and finances and marriage and decorating. Tearing my children out of both of their homes required nearly super-human strength, especially going on very little sleep. How many people can say they adore their sisters-in-law and consider them two of their dearest friends? How many parents don't have to mediate one single argument between 5-7 children even once in 24 sleep-deprived hours? Even on the 2.5 hour trip home (with an hour break to stop and see MeMe and Ompy in the middle), the only actual complaint I heard from my children had to do with a hungry belly. Call it Residual Family Happiness.
Incredible. Wouldn't trade it for anything.
So proud of Paul. And of Sarah, who is an amazing, supportive woman/wife/mother/artist/educator/person-in-general. Paul couldn't have done this without her, and he would tell you that. So grateful for Kevin and Jenn and their friendships and love. So amazingly blessed by my parents and the roles they have played as mentors, teachers, supporters, guardians, grandparents, and friends.
Blessed and grateful. Great way to start a day. A Wednesday, even.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Update
I clicked to my spaces.live blog this morning and noticed...no blog entries. At all. Examining a bit further, I realized that I haven't blogged at all yet this month (now, it's only the 3rd, so...I mean...maybe cut me a little slack), and I'm wondering if that's why my posts appear to be missing. As far as I know, that hasn't happened before. I think, generally, the most recent five posts show, or something like that.
All the more reason to get things switched over here.
I'll be working on that.
In other news...after celebrating Memorial Day with my parents with a hike through Watkins Glen and dinner at Jerlando's (I know...very picnicky, right?), this week marked the beginning of summer's schedule. Bryson and Reasa started daily swim practices on Tuesday evening (which I completely forgot about, and later realized that I hadn't put this in my calendar because they hadn't given us a formal schedule at sign-ups, explaining that they would be emailing the initial schedule before the season started. They sent the email on Tuesday night after the first practice. :) ). We have cut back to one horse lesson a week, and have taken a break from karate to make room for swimming. I will admit, they still haven't decided what they think about swim practices, but considering they have had no formal swim instruction, and this swim team actually competes with actual technique and actual timers...they need some work right off. I have told them they need to attend at least the first two weeks, and we'll go from there. Because I'm mean like that. Lainie starts her summer gymnastics schedule June 14--when the swimming schedule moves to mornings, hers does too. Monday-Thursday, 8:30-11:30.
I have a feeling we're going to be tired by August. Actually, I have a feeling we're going to be tired by the weekend. Every weekend. It's 8:15 and even Bryson, my earliest riser, is still asleep.
Our pool at home is sparkly and shining (it took us about a week and a half and three trips to the Warm Up Shop to get things under control there), the lawn is mostly green (except for the big yellow rectangle where Seth left the pool cover folded for too long...), the weeds have completely taken over the beautiful landscaping out front (I'll get on that today, I promise), the air conditioner is working much better thanks to our friend, Brock, and his expertise, the seeds are sprouting in the "garden"...and we're finishing up school so we can really enjoy our downtime.
Ha. That's funny. Downtime.
I can pretend, right?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Weekends
I work through each week with the constant goal of Friday afternoon. Well, usually evening. If we can survive all the school, horse lessons, gymnastics practices, karate practices, rehearsals, meetings, unexpected trips to the store, expected ones, occasional appointments (when I don't forget I made them ;) ), cakes to bake, and work to plow through...Seth being out of town, Seth being back in town, remembering the schedule he thought he actually wound up having, rather than the one he planned at the beginning of the week...if we can get through all that, pick Laine up from the gym at 6:30, and get everyone settled in...
...we've survived till the weekend.
You may think that because we stay home, homeschool, and choose all of this staying-at-home business, the weekend would feel kind of relative to us.
You would be wrong.
And the thing is...an ideal weekend for me does not include running all over, either accomplishing something or finding something interesting to do. I would so much rather spend the weekend jumping on the trampoline, doing something to the house, tearing a project apart and putting it back together (or not. he he), cleaning like crazy so I don't have to catch up from the chaos of the weekend on Monday, planning and preparing delicious meals, maybe having a family of friends over Friday or Saturday evening...and not doing anything remotely productive for a large chunk of time somewhere in the process. If I have to spend the weekend thinking or planning or doing...or especially thinking and planning and doing all at the same time...I think I'd rather have the week back, thank you. The weekends when I wish it could just get to Monday already...not my favorites. And I have lots of favorites.
Can it just be Monday? Actually, can it just be next Monday?
Pretty please, with a cherry on top??
...we've survived till the weekend.
You may think that because we stay home, homeschool, and choose all of this staying-at-home business, the weekend would feel kind of relative to us.
You would be wrong.
And the thing is...an ideal weekend for me does not include running all over, either accomplishing something or finding something interesting to do. I would so much rather spend the weekend jumping on the trampoline, doing something to the house, tearing a project apart and putting it back together (or not. he he), cleaning like crazy so I don't have to catch up from the chaos of the weekend on Monday, planning and preparing delicious meals, maybe having a family of friends over Friday or Saturday evening...and not doing anything remotely productive for a large chunk of time somewhere in the process. If I have to spend the weekend thinking or planning or doing...or especially thinking and planning and doing all at the same time...I think I'd rather have the week back, thank you. The weekends when I wish it could just get to Monday already...not my favorites. And I have lots of favorites.
Can it just be Monday? Actually, can it just be next Monday?
Pretty please, with a cherry on top??
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