This will be quick — or at least that’s the plan as I sit here – because I am EXHAUSTED. It’s been a draining week emotionally, and on top of dealing with the anxiety and the sore tummy and the crying, the other two have had less than stellar nights. They’re happy and fine and great during the day but the nights have been rough. Graham has a head cold with a sore throat, and Emily has been having bad dreams and crawling into my bed/wedding her feet into my ribs and smacking me in the face when she rolls over. Tuesday night saw me up between the hours of 2:30 and 5:00 a.m. and then getting up at 5:45 to head to work.

Oh, and I’ve come down with a cough.

The only reason I’m making an effort to sit down and write something here is because, after a couple of days of tears (both his and mine), yesterday saw a breakthrough. School has not been happening, because it’s become this insurmountable fear, and causing the bulk of the worry. Matthew spent the day in Nathan’s classroom (working in the corner, back to the class) and Nathan had a great! day. He was engaged, and played with his friends at recess and lunch, and ended the day with a smile on his face. He complained of a sore tummy twice – when he was not in sight of his Dad – but no tears and his teacher got him back on track. The plan is for Matthew to only stay until lunch time tomorrow, and this caused NO drama tonight.

Oh, you guys, I haven’t detailed what our days have been like but this is HUGE. Time will tell if it works, but his lack of “sore tummy” last night is something we haven’t had in nearly two weeks. And while he’s had a lot of good moments, yesterday afternoon and evening he seemed like the “regular” Nathan. Laughing and goofing around and excited about show and share at school tomorrow (he’s bringing his baby photo book). He’s excited for 100′s Day on Friday as well and ate all of his supper and didn’t have any quiet and sullen moments and, oh. I feel like I can breathe a little bit.

We still have plans to talk to somebody and I’m sure we’ll still have to hand hold him for a little bit, but yesterday gave me hope. Hope. Gosh, It feels so good to say that.

This is where I would love to say that everything is fine. It’s all worked out and, oh! Maybe I built it up more than it was or maybe we turned a corner or maybe we found a solution. No, no, and no.

We did talk to a counselor (psychologist? I think?) who goes to our church. She called me back on Thursday night after the kids were in bed and gave me hope that this was normal and not insurmountable. She gave me some tips for now, and is going to try to squeeze us in this week. Matthew talked to her at church yesterday and she feels as though God is telling her that she should help us as quickly as she can. So, yay!

It’s still been hard, hope aside.

I have Fridays off, and we thought it would be fun to take the kids out of school to go skiing. Nathan, aka He Who Is The Best Skier, got worked up about going skiing. He was worried that he “might get hurt.” We told him that he did not have to ski. Dad and Mom would take turns sitting with him if he didn’t want to go. If he changed his mind, he could ski if he wanted to. We would support him either way. He had nothing to worry about.

He still worried. And cried the tortured cry and clutched his stomach.

We had this conversation multiple times on the hour-long drive up to the ski hill, and played it cool. And then he strapped on his skis.

The rest of the morning was good. SO GOOD. Back to (our) normal, even.

And then we broke for lunch.

All of a sudden the mere thought of skiing was enough to make him tear up and clutch his stomach. Again.

Matthew stayed with him while I did a run with Graham and Emily. They did some runs on the bunny hill during our absence and upon our return we decided to one run all together — just one — and go from there. That run turned into one more, and then Jr. Sporto and Sr. Sporto did yet another run together.

It’s been a non-stop ride all weekend, this anxiety train. Life is good! We’re having fun! His stomach is hurting because … something may happen in the future. His last worry at the end of the day yesterday was that his stomach might hurt. His worrying is what makes his stomach hurts, and he was worrying that his stomach might hurt. If only he understood irony.

We’re dealing, because we have to, but I won’t lie to you guys (or myself). This is really, really hard. We’re doing the best with the tools that we have, but we’re both pretty worn down. Matthew has an anxiety background, so he “gets” where Nathan is coming from, but even he is at a loss. Something snapped within Nathan, and we don’t know why, and we don’t have the right duct tape on hand.

We’ll get there, I know, but it won’t likely be any time soon.

*Jars of Clay. We saw them January 28th. Their music is woven into the tapestry of my life.

I consider myself to be an eternal optimist. I see the glass as half full, I roll with the punches, I have a stiff upper lip, insert other positive cliche HERE. I have bad days like everyone else but I know that they will pass. Usually.

Last Monday still haunts me because I have never been that dark before. It also haunts me because while I haven’t been unable to do anything whatsoever, I still feel like my feet are mired in the mud and I cannot pull myself out of the pit. Every day since then has seen one or five things fly at me, like life has decided to give me a cross-punch, a hook, an upper and a kick to the junk for good measure. And then it peed on my head and set me on fire.

So many things, so many things.

My head is spinning and my heart is aching and, oh. Optimism has taken a vacation and I have become someone who is just waiting for another shoe to fall. Probably on my head. And then it will crush my baby toe. And then I will trip over it and fall face first back into the miry mud.

So many things, so many things.

Here is but a few of them.

My sister Mel emailed the family a few weeks ago to tell us that she’d had a mole removed and biopsied. It first came back clean but it was sent to Ottawa (she’s in the Army) and it turns out that it’s malignant melanoma. There’s a chance that the biopsy got it all, but there’s a chance that Dr. Google is horribly right. She’s gone for a second biopsy, and we’re waiting to hear the results. She is the one sibling with whom I share both parents, and who has the same skin type as I do. I’ve made an appointment with my family Doctor for next week for her to take a look at me, because it would be stupid not to. We’re praying that Mel is fine because … she’s my baby sister, you know?

It’s no secret that I have been struggling with my career, and while I won’t go into the details here (I did already here), it’s just not been good. I don’t know where I fit, exactly, and the communication has been sub-par. I don’t belong there, but I don’t know where I do belong, which leaves me feeling stuck. I had a few neon arrows pointing a different direction yesterday, which gave me hope, but my Debbie Downer attitude as of late (TOTALLY JUSTIFIED) wonders if it will all work out. One neon sign, at least, is pretty concrete (Hi, Kami!), and another one would be pretty rad (Hi, Amanda and Shelley!), and the other signs would be great but maybe I’m grasping at straws. (Related: Hire me.)

I missed some important filings for the company that we use for our self-employment work and got a notice in the mail that they were going to DISSOLVE OUR COMPANY. Being the government, they made it sound like it was a done deal, and I quickly did the filings and sent this wordy cover letter and all of this documentation to back up why our company still exists (BECAUSE IT DOES). I’ve been fretting over this for a WEEK, but haven’t been home during their (short) work hours. When I called yesterday to see the status, expecting them to say TOO BAD SO SAD, the girl was all, “Oh! You filed! We’re all good.” Way to freak me out, Big Brother.

Matthew and I had it out on Monday. By “had it out”, I mean “addressed some relationship deficiencies in an open and honest two-hour discussion.” The details are not for the Internet, but our marriage wasn’t firing right. We’re back on track, and are thankful that we hashed it out, but having that in the midst of everything else was not my favorite. We’re both having a rough go of it and going it alone made it even worse. So was having to deal with restoration on top of everything else. Because REALLY?

The hardest thing this week has been Nathan. My baby boy is dealing with a lot of anxiety. He’s anxious about things that happened in the past (barfing, hockey checks) and anxious about things that could possibly happen in the future (barfing, hockey checks), but when you talk about what happened/is happening today that makes him anxious, there is nothing to report. This anxiety results in a “sore tummy” and it mostly happens at school. We’ve been talking and working with his teacher (who is AMAZING) and yesterday she emailed me at lunch to say that he was having a GREAT day. Shortly thereafter, he called me in tears (again) and I went to pick him up. While he packed his bags, she gave me the rundown of the afternoon. She was in tears, I was in tears, and he was (still) in tears. I’ve used every tool at my disposal (communication, cuddling, prayer) and nothing is working.

I feel like I’m failing as his Mom, because I don’t know how to make it better. Moms are supposed to make it better.

But how am I supposed to make it better for him when I can’t figure out how to make it better for me? I don’t even know.

*NEEDTOBREATHE. This song is on repeat. The lyrics are perfect for me and the chorus is especially hitting home right now.

Give me the answer
Give me the way out
Give me the faith to believe in these hard times

I didn’t want to leave that dreary post up over the weekend, so I thought I’d balance it out with things that make me smile.

Graham, aka He Who Loves To Read/Write/Build, signed up for the basketball team. He had his very first game on Wednesday.

WHERE DID MY BABY GO?

Emily drew me this picture (hover to read the story behind it).

She’s my little artiste.

These tea cups I got for my birthday.

I feel so FANCY.

My bi-weekly girls’ night with Emily while the boys are at Spudz.

I read while she watched her Barbie movie, and then we watched Enchanted. Love.

A few non-photo-related things that make me smile:

• Inexpensive date night ideas
• That two Canadian teenagers sent a Lego man to space. You need to watch the video.
• You can redeem your Air Miles for ski lift tickets. Matthew and I have five each coming in the mail.
• This DUI test video. BEST TEST EVER. (Hat tip: Schmutzie)
• I have plans for a dinner out this Sunday with the same ladies who came to my birthday night. I can’t wait.

What’s making you smile?

I’ve talked a lot this fall and winter about how I thought I had finally beaten the S.A.D. monster. I ramped up my vitamins, I’m exercising at least five days a week, and we’ve taken up skiing. That, there, has been HUGE. Being above the clouds, in the sunshine and fresh air, exercising (my demons) all day long. Throw in a birthday weekend full of happy kids, good food, and beautiful friends, and I thought I had January beat.

Then Monday came along.

(Cue DJ, scratching a needle across a record and then, complete silence.)

I hit a perfect storm on Monday morning which saw me crashing from the birthday high, with a nauseous stomach that wasn’t stress-related, complete with a number of things on my mind that are stress-related, and trying to battle this after a horrible nights’ sleep. I got the kids to school, crawled back into bed, and thought that I’d wake up with a bit of clarity. I thought wrong.

I woke up, still nauseous but at a manageable level, and read for a bit. I made my way downstairs, had some tea and a snack, and thought I’d do some work. I opened my laptop and just … blinked. For minutes. Maybe I should read some more? I read for another hour or so, sat back in front of my laptop and found myself physically unable to do anything. I had never felt this way before. I always have thirty (thousand) things to do and idle time is not something that happens often, if ever. My reading time is grabbed in small portions as we drive up to the ski hill or a few moments before bed or while waiting for an appointment. If I have hours alone, I will work or edit/upload photos, or write, or just DO something. I was home alone, I didn’t have my head in the toilet, and here I was feeling like my arms were dead weights and my head was a London fog.

I read some more. I tried to work/write/engage in some way a few times, but every time I hit a wall.

I can’t do this.

I felt powerless, which made me equal parts frustrated and apathetic. I talked to Matthew and told him how I was feeling. About how sad I was feeling, too, which is the sum of some things I can’t talk about yet and a hundred other things. He told me that it’s OK to have bad days, and it’s OK to have sad days. And then I cried.

The afternoon got better, especially once the kids were home, but I felt quiet. I still feel quiet. I haven’t felt as I did Monday morning, and I hope I don’t again, because that was a first for me and I didn’t like it. I can’t even blame any of it on raging female hormones, which made it all the more odd for me.

I hope that it was January’s last attempt to get me down and while she succeeded for a day (or three), I’d appreciate it if she exited quietly. I have a life to live.

I’m not a kid anymore. Obviously.

I don’t hate January like I used to. I have a December baby and I, like most people, think that having a December baby is not the ideal. The thing is, we were just happy to have a baby. And my December baby, right now, loves having his birthday close to Christmas. Don’t spoil it for him, okay?

Back to January.

It’s a hard month for many. I think that God has a good sense of humor and kind of plans stuff. (That was me being eloquent.)

I love to plan and host parties. Love, love, LOVE. I may get a little bit (or a lot) crazy in the midst of pulling all of the pieces together but I thrive on it. I buzz and I zoom and I flap my arms and my entire body vibrates. Having a son with a December birthday so close to Christmas means that we have his “friend party” in January. We’ve spent many Saturdays skiing, so this past weekend saw his party and my birthday collide. If you know us at all, you know that we’d have it no other way. We can sleep when we’re dead. Or something.

Friday night saw us out for dinner with two of our closest friends, and another friend who was in town to speak at a conference at our church – he married us! – and it was so great. There’s just something about friends that you’ve known forever.

Saturday was … busy.

We hosted Graham’s “friend” birthday party on Saturday. We (they) waited for friends to arrive.

There was a bunch of sledding involved, in our backyard/forest.

I made a cake for Graham, and decorated it this way, because I cannot decorate with frosting.

I hosted a girls’ night in for my birthday, which had a wine/appetizer theme. I wore this.

I got to spend many hours with the prettiest ladies on the planet.

January isn’t so bad.

*Cue the fanfare and a ticker-tape parade*

I’m kidding. But only a little bit. Birthdays for me have always been a big! huge! deal! It’s MY DAY. And if it’s your birthday, it is also a big! huge! deal! It’s YOUR DAY. Truth be told, I often stretch my “day” into a good week of celebrations. I had lunch with coworkers today, I’m going out for a nice dinner tomorrow with Matthew and another couple, and I’m having a “girls’ night in” (wine and appies) with my besties on Saturday night. Then next weekend, Matthew and I are going to a concert. (Jars of Clay!)

I like celebrating, is what I’m saying. What I don’t like, especially this year, is the number on the calendar.

37

I mean, look at it. It just looks old, like it should be hanging by one rusted screw on a wartime house. I know that it’s not old, and that I may not have even lived half of my life yet — God willing — but I still feel like I’m twenty. The mirror, however, sets me straight. The “laugh lines” around my eyes, that deep number eleven between my eyebrows, the loss of elasticity … everywhere. Oh, and the grey hair that I’ve been coloring since my early twenties. OH! And that GREY HAIR I FOUND IN MY EYEBROWS.

I don’t mean to sound vain, because I’m truly not, but I know people who were grandmothers at the age of thirty-seven. Yes, really.

That all said, I don’t beat myself up too much about aging because, hey! There’s nothing I can do about it! And (SPOILER ALERT) neither can you! And, to quote a family friend I talked to this week, getting older is far better than being dead.

There is also a lot that I like/love about being thirty-seven:

• I am married to the perfect man for me, and not do I only love him, I like him.
• My kids are the funnest! age! ever! We’re in the eye of the storm between toddler tantrums and teenage angst and it really is the best stage (so far).
• I think that I’m a pretty great Mom. I’m not perfect, no, but I’m comfortable and confident and think that I have these three (and they have me) for a reason.
• I take good care of my body. I spent almost twenty-five years not knowing how to eat healthy or exercise. I attend boot camp, I run, I do crazy workout DVDs, I SKI. I also eat more protein and vegetables and less pasta and rice than I did fifteen years ago.
• I know what clothes look good on me (v-neck tops, A-line skirts, dresses) and what clothes don’t (turtlenecks, skinny jeans). I’m also not afraid to try a new style and possibly even like it on me.
• We live in a home that we love, in a community we adore, with the best friends and a great church family. I couldn’t imagine being any happier living any place else.
• I have a good sense of where I came from and a pretty good idea of where I’m going.
• I know who is worth my time, and who is not.
• I know what makes me content creatively, and I know what things I want to try next.

I feel really good in this space I’m in — you know, aside from the sagging skin, grey hair and face crevasses — and above all of that, I think this is going to be a great year for not only me, but for my family. I’m happy. Really happy. Which is good, considering it’s my birthday.

At Work It! Mom: How do you celebrate your birthday?

At The Bad Moms Club: Bad Moms Join Photo Challenges

AT Life Made Delicious: Tasty chili that’s also good for you

*Fun fact: That’s a term accountants use when we want a file done with very little time spent on it.

As I mentioned last week, Matthew and I took the kids out of school to spend a week at my boss’s cabin at the local ski hill. We had looked into going on a tropical vacation but the cost for the five of us was a little more than we could swallow. Instead, we decided to spend the week honing our newly acquired ski skills and that’s what we did all of last week. How was it? AMAZING. Also, EXHAUSTING.

The days were a good rhythm of routine. Get up, wake up, take the dogs for a walk (me), get our ski gear on. Do two or three runs in the morning, come back for lunch, take the dogs for a walk (Matthew). Do a few more runs, then Matthew sitting with the tired kids (Graham and Emily) while I did a run with the Sporto (Nathan), then me taking G & E back to the cabin while Sr. Sporto (Matthew) and Nathan did a couple of more runs. Take the dogs for a hike in the forest (Matthew)(the rest of us went twice), make dinner (me), start watching the Harry Potter movies for the first time (all of us). Put the kids to bed, have alone time (Matthew and I).

The only variation to this routine was Tuesday. Tuesday! Monday is usually the bad guy, but Tuesday wanted a turn. Monday was PERFECT. Sunny skies, no wind, a temperature just above zero (or freezing)(36 (?) if you’re American). See the photo at the top. We tried a new run called the Grandfather’s trail, which is an easy run that winds all of the way around the mountain. It was a great run to practice turning (Or, for my kids, bombing down while doing the “pizza”) and we had a fantastic day.

On Tuesday morning, we woke up to wind gusts. I took the dogs for a walk and cut it short because furious winds in my face are not something I equate with “enjoyable.” We headed to the hill, like the newbies we are, and I found myself — she who already clenches every time she gets on a chair lift (It’s so HIGH) — finding said chair being blown about. We made it to the top and the wind whipped snow every which way but loose and all three kids were teary/crying. I was green and felt like I might lose my cookies. We made a plan to get down as fast as we could and then head back to the cabin to wait it out. We made it, chilled to the bone despite our good gear, and sat in the cabin for a few hours. We headed back in the afternoon and took the lift on the other side of the hill. Much better, and we managed to get a few runs in.

Tuesday wasn’t my favorite.

The rest of our week was my favorite but, oh. Skiing full days, five days in a row is a little hard on the body. And yet, we fulfilled our promise to do Friday night tubing with the kids. They spin you! Down a big hill! And you laugh/scream!

That lasted for about an hour and then the kids said what I was thinking.

Can we be DONE? I want to go HOME.

That’s exactly what we did. We drove home, put the kids to bed, unpacked the necessities, and then my body waved the white flag and shut down. We had a great week, and are excited to back up to the hill as soon as we can, but my poor (old) body needs to rest up first.

Exhaustion aside, I’m still smiling from our week. My kids, who were so frustrated on their first day of lessons, can ski. And, after spending the first three days doing the “pizza” (snowplowing), they finally heeded their Mom’s advice to practice their turns. Jr. Sporto would shadow Sr. Sporto and Graham and Emily would shadow me. I am so, so proud of them for sticking it out during their lessons, and for how they are so excited to keep learning and getting better (more lessons are booked for spring break).

Best vacation EVER (so far).

More photos from the week: