Possibilities

A new year with new possibilities is on me. What is my purpose. What is my destiny. Not to be overly dramatic here, but I am still unsure sometimes. I'm unsure about what direction my life is going. Or, to be honest, what direction I want it to go.

Being a mother involves so many wonderful things, but it is so challenging.
 I am selfish, I'll admit it. I like to have a hot cup of coffee in the morning, the whole cup, hot the whole time. I like a neat house. The more chaos in my bedroom the more likely I'll have trouble sleeping. The more chaos in my home equals the more chaos in my mind...mind clutter is detrimental to me personally. I like to ride in the car quietly and think or talk  with my husband about everything and anything. It is important to me to do that. I find it incredibly intimate to talk with someone who values me and is interested in the "absolute nothingness" that is coming from my lips. I like those things. I like coffee shops. I like book stores. I love reading. I don't read anymore. I'm tired. I'm spent. It seems, recently, that I'm at my breaking point more often than usual.

My son is two. He is an imaginative, smart, caring, curious, tender child. I adore him...but he is also two. Two year olds are scary. They will hug you so gently one moment and then bite you on your bottom when your back is turned the next (true story, happened yesterday). He has never bitten anyone before. Why yesterday? Why me? Because I was there. Because he was curious. After tears and time out and squatting down to explain why it is not nice to bite or hit or kick or punch or throw toys he hugged me and rested his head on my shoulder and said, "I love you" ...and off he ran to play. I had to catch my breath. I was so mad and in moments he had forgotten and played. no resentment. no lingering anger. I think I could learn from this boy!

But to get back to my original point, what to do...with me...
maybe this is it. Maybe this is where I am meant to be. I don't mean that in a whoa is me, bust out the fiddle kind of way. I mean, maybe spending this time with my children right now, is what I am meant to be and do at this time in my life. There will be a time for more focus on me. Time for me to go out and achieve greatness. Maybe the throw-up and temper tantrums and back rubs and screaming and food throwing and hugs and unconditional love and kisses and bottom-biting and singing and laughter is my current greatness...already achieved. Embrace now. This is the time for whatever it is you're doing. This is my time right now, to spend with my children. There is a reason I was laid off. I have to believe that this is where i am meant to be. And if I don't embrace this now, I will have learned nothing. I will have lost my ability to appreciate now.

Hot Tea

Hot Tea
There are more moments that exist


when I want to see my children grown


where the worry lines on my face,


etched carefully, subtly during their teens,


are visible in the quiet light




I sit with a hot cup of tea


a scene that I longed for


throughout their childhood


when my eldest wouldn't nap


and instead chose to scream


which woke up my youngest


This pull and push,


brought me to the very brink of sanity, the very edge


looking below I saw the depths of insanity


that drew


closer


and closer


with


each


exhausted


wail


from


upstairs




but I step back from the sanity ledge


the hot cup of tea


the quiet living room


the soft light


instead, I step into the chaos


I hold my youngest


and cry with her


we are both in need of comforting


she provides the calm that I am able to restore to her


I lay her down gently


I tuck in my oldest, kiss him softly


 

I return to my tea which has turned cold


and am fulfilled with each sip


because there will be a time for hot tea


and I am certain,


as I drink it then,


I will long to hear crying from the upstairs

The come back

So I left...and then came back. I wasn't sure that what I was writing about really mattered. Who would read this? Who would want to read this? Why is my ordinary day filled with the mundane worth reading about? Thanks to my husband, I have realized that it doesn't matter if I am the only one who reads this. It is therapeutic to write. To journal. To get it out.
I am staying home with my two children right now. I have a 2 1/2 year old and a four month old. Being a stay-at-home-mom is challening and rewarding and thankless and full of thanks and predictable and fickle...all wrapped into one. There are days when I swear to myself that I can't give one more ounce of myself without cracking and crashing and burning into a complete and utter pile of ash that my husband will be forced, unknowingly, to sweep up once he comes home. And there are days when my children are purely delightful and full of inspiration. Days when I can't believe that I grew those chubby fingers handling the crayons. Days when I see, or attempt to see, the world as they see it.
I am lucky. Lucky that my son can stay in his "dajamas" until 11am or all day. I am lucky that I can make my son pancakes with sprinkles for breakfast. I am lucky that we can stay inside and watch the snow fall while wriggling our toes in fat socks. Days that consist of putting together puzzles and having picnic lunches on the living room floor.
On those days where I feel the pile of ash creeping just below the surface. Where my skin starts to crawl by 8am because my son has been playing his noisy guitar for an hour. Where I find myself scraping "nice" krispies and play-doh of the floor daily. When I clean all day and it doesn't look like it. When my son hits me and screams. When I experience what every other mom of a two year old is experiencing but somehow feel entirely alone in the struggle.
I must go into the catalogue in my brain that I keep, complete with belly laughs, unwarranted hugs, silliness, and my sons constant reminder, unknowingly, that the window in childhood is so small. The time in life when there isn't stress and schedules and responsibilities and trouble is so very small. He reminds me of this. His imagination and spirit are unmatched. His awe at everyday things that I so often take for granted. The way his eyes light up when I use cookie cutters on his peanut butter sandwich. I must remind myself that I can always teach again. I can't, however, get time back when my children are little. This is the time. This time, no matter how crazy, is so beautiful and miraculous.

The Bucket List

OK, here goes it...Things I want to accomplish hopefully by 30, maybe not.
The list is also written in pencil if you can imagine it, therefore, things can change.
Why, I wonder, do I feel the need to place a disclaimer on my wish list?

- Become a 46R
http://www.adirondack.net/TOUR/HIKE/highpeaks.cfm

- read all of Alice Walker's work
- get a teaching job (come on NY state)
- run a 5k (and hopefully more)
- create my own tea recipe and press it myself
- become more spiritual
- learn more about religions around the world to teach to my children
- practice yoga regularly
- learn to sew, make a pillow
- become more self-reliant
- publish a children's book or book of poetry


OK, I will cross them off as I go. I will start small and start reading Walker's work. I will contact a friend of mine who works for a publishing company.

Let's start at the very beginning...

...a very good place to start. Well maybe I'll start where I am now, which very well could be looked at as a beginning. It's new, that's for sure, but beginning I'm not so sure about. I was a teacher. I am a teacher. I was laid off-does that still make me a teacher? Just not presently. I love teaching. I taught English at the middle school and high school level for 5 years. I love teaching English. I love teaching literature. I love planning and writing lesson plans. I loved looking at my calendar and having a sense of where my class would be in two weeks. That sense is gone.

After the birth of my daughter in August I went out and bought two calendars. I bought one for the kitchen to go on the wall and one that I could carry with me. I apparently thought that being an unemployed stay-at-home mom would render a lot of appointments which would require a planner. I came home and filled in every one's birthday, and known doctor appointments for the family. I penciled in my husband's football schedule (he coaches high school) including games and practices and scouts. He teaches English also and I started penciling in school activities that he was a part of. He is the junior class advisor and had a few obligations as a result. after, I took a long look at our family calendar. I realized that the only thing penciled in for me was a dentist appointment six months from now and a gynecologist appointment.

I guess I am realizing the need for something valuable in my life. I have a loving and incredibly supportive husband who is my best friend in the whole world. I have two beautiful children that are overall healthy and happy. I have amazing women friends that are beautiful and strong and inspiring. I have a warm home, a bachelor's degree and Master's degree in Education. I am happy. I love that I have the opportunity to be with my children right now. I know that no one in this world is better for my children than my husband or I. But I want more. I'm not sure what, but something. I have created a bucket list of things that I want to accomplish before my 30th birthday. Perhaps in completing some of the tasks (hopefully all) I will feel a greater sense of self.

Hopefully writing will help me find what I'm looking for. I have no known audience. I am not writing this for anyone but myself. I have always had tremendous faith in my ability to trust myself. I am tunneling into my soul through this process with the only hope of being more. More what, I'm not sure. But definitely more.