The Discombobulated Mommy

Just Keep Running

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Tue, 15 Sep 2020 19:27:00 +0000

I have been running for about 8 years. Maybe longer. The time is starting to blur together. I know that I started running after the birth of my third child and I wish that I had discovered running 5 years earlier. I think it would have been easier to cope with postpartum depression.

When I first started running I ran across an old college classmate who had taken up running. She was running marathons and half-marathons and I was struggling to get through a mile. But I followed her posts and started asking for advice. She happily gave it to me and we ran our first race together about a year later. I have continued to run through postpartum depression, to help me cope with my mother-in-laws unexpected passing, on good days and on tougher days. Running hasn't forsaken me even if I've forsake it when times were too tough.

One of the things I've done for the last four or five years has been to belong to a virtual running community dedicated to mother runners. I'm usually just an observer even though I have participated in a few of their challenges in the winter months. They developed another program that was similar with a focus on workouts and not pace. This is something that I needed after becoming burn out on racing. I have used training plans for years to help me maintain focus and motivation. But over the last couple of years I was losing my running mojo, but I didn't want to quit because I knew how much it helped with my mental frame of mind.

Joining a virtual running community has helped me to continue running through the pandemic and through my cancer diagnosis. It has been so good for me to maintain some semblance of exercise. While I'm not running the same number of miles I did pre-cancer, I'm still running, albeit slowly, and that's good enough right now. I share my thoughts on it in my article: Just Keep Running on Medium. Running continues to be a mode of self care for me.

In this time where we are in quasi-quarantine how are you finding time for self care? Pandemic fatigue is a real thing. I miss seeing my friends and family regularly. I miss volunteering at my children's school. I miss meeting friends at the gym. But I also know that taking a break from that right now is better for me and my family while I continue to undergo treatment and try to heal my body from all the trauma bestowed upon me from having cancer

I encourage you to find time to get outside if you can. Breathe in some fresh air. Read a book outside in the sunshine. Call a friend. Check in with someone. Take care of yourself.

xoxo-The Discombobulated Mommy

Coping Differently

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Wed, 19 Aug 2020 13:55:00 +0000

When the pandemic hit, I was busy going breast cancer diagnosis and treatment. I was busy trying to hold it together for my family. My house looked like a tornado hit it and I spent a lot of time resting.

Each of my children have coped different with my diagnosis and treatment. It's interesting to see how each of them handle the news.

My youngest, is ever ready with my "fwo-up" bucket. Fortunately, after finding the right medication, I did not have nausea. I had wicked headaches that were cleared up with a prescription medication. On my treatment days she would sit and color on the bed next to me while I napped.

My third born also hovered on the bed. He and the youngest had an unspoken agreement that I was never to be left alone. So they would take turns, each one sitting with me while I napped. While the youngest would sit and color quietly, the 9 yo sat reading at the foot of the bed. Whenever I opened my eyes I would see one of them standing guard.

My oldest daughter spent her time helping her younger siblings. She took them out for walks around the neighborhood, helped with homework, or assisted me if I needed anything. She has a nurturing nature and I am so blessed to have her. Often, she was the one that made sure that the two youngest attended their distance learning in the spring.

Unbeknownst to me, my oldest child was coping by writing. He kept it from me while he develop his stories and created a website. For the last 4-5 months he has been busily tapping away at his keyboard developing characters. When he was ready to share his work, he was already knee deep in several stories. I could not have been more impressed. As a fellow writer, I am incredibly proud of him and all that he has done. As his mama, I am beyond tickled that he is following in my footsteps, surpassing me, and already a better writer than I could ever hope to be.

He had a harder time assisting around the house and spent his time buried in his work and the worlds that he created. We all cope differently.

I've finally had a chance to read some of his pieces. If you are looking for something new to read, check out his work on: https://edgeofstory.com

You won't be disappointed.

As for me, I've turned the corner on my treatment. I'm going to less appointments. I've finished chemo and radiation and now go in only every 3 weeks for Herceptin. That will continue for about another year. I've also started taking tamoxifen, a drug that will hopefully prevent developing breast cancer again. I get to take that drug for about 5-10 years. So far, I've responded well to treatment.

I've continued my own writing. You can find more of my recent work on Medium. Check it out, if you haven't already. I'll post links to specific articles in future posts.

In the meantime, be well and happy reading!

Ruminations on Elijah McClain

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Wed, 01 Jul 2020 17:50:00 +0000

This morning I woke up and the kids and I sang and danced to the Hamilton Soundtrack as our celebration for "No Chemo Wednesdsay."

This pandemic journey is still so surreal. Even as I sing and dance with my kids, I have been thinking hard about case of Elijah McClain. Do you know his story? This young man was walking home last August and was stopped for suspicious behavior. Conversations with family and friends point that Elijah may have been neurodivergent. The police stopped him, there was an escalation, and the young man was subsequently pushed to the ground. He was put in a carotid hold, he passed out, he threw up several times, and then was given a dose of ketamine to help "subdue" him. This story crushes me the more that I read about it. I have a neurodivergent son. My son is White and Elijah is Black, my son may never be stopped for suspicious behavior. But that doesn't mean that people wouldn't look at him differently.

Elijah's story worries me on many levels. I wonder if the law enforcement are taught effective de-escalation tactics and if they are taught about how to work with neurodivergent people. There is still so much misunderstanding that surrounds autism and neurodivergency that people do not know what to do.

What happened to Elijah is a tragedy and it's taken 10 months for the case to be investigated thoroughly. It was originally closed and written off because the Elijah's death was "undetermined." I have serious doubts about that and excuse my language, but I call bullshit.

I have a lot of thoughts on this and have written two article; one about Elijah and neurodivergency and the other asking for accountability in his death. You can find them here: Elijah McClain: Say His Name and Accountability in the Case of Elijah McClain

As a mother of a neurodivergent son, I feel it is my responsibility to share Elijah's story. His death is an injustice and we should examine how law enforcement is not only taught to work with neurodivergent people, but also be held accountable for their actions.

Done with Chemo and Next Steps

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Tue, 30 Jun 2020 15:51:00 +0000

I am officially finished with chemotherapy! I had my last blood draw and chemo appointment last week. I am thrilled to be done and my poor body needs the rest. My port area is slightly bruised from all the sticks. I have found that if I drink about 3-4 liters of water a day my body does a really good job of flushing out all the toxins. If I am not good with my water intake, I feel pretty lousy.

Last week I also had a CT scan and my radiation oncologist is developing a plan for my radiation treatment. I still think it's weird to say I have oncologists (plural). Who am I?

Overall, my medical oncologist is pretty happy with how I have handled chemo. I still have side affects like edema and a change in my eyesight. I'm hoping that the swelling in my body will go down since I am no longer going to chemo and that my eyesight will go back to what it was.

I did a happy dance on my way out the door of my last chemo appointment. I'll have to go back every three weeks for targeted therapy (Herceptin) through my port. But the nurses said that it should not make me feel as fatigued as chemo. That would be a nice change.

I begin radiation next week and it will be everyday for 5 days/week for four weeks. The side affects are a wicked sunburn and fatigue. Once that's over, I'll be put on Tamoxifen. So much treatment! But the goal is to prevent the cancer from recurring so I'll take it.

This sure has been a weird 2020. I found the lump in my breast and then our country went into lockdown for the pandemic. My journey started in January and it's now 5 months later.

This is the first summer without a swim season in 9 years and the kids are adjusting pretty well. Except that the third kid has already been to urgent care due to a slip n slide injury. He managed to cut his ear and they needed to glue it back together. This is the same kid who broke his nose three times before he was three, got a lego lodged up his nose several years later, cut is eyebrow during swim practice and needed stitches. This is about par for the course for him, but I feel like I need to wrap him in bubble wrap for the rest of his life to protect him. He will always keep me on my toes.

I'm still writing and a have a few things posted on Medium. Here's the article about my last chemo appointment: Cancer in Quarantine Diaries: Getting to Know You

I have a few more articles I'll share with you. In the meantime, let's keep moving forward.

The Haircut

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Thu, 11 Jun 2020 17:36:00 +0000

In late March, before the world shut down, I went to the salon for my last professional haircut. The big haircut was a milestone in my cancer journey. There are so many steps during this journey. I'm a person who hates blood draws, injections for vaccinations, and surgery. I would never have made a good health professional. Here I am with getting poked and prodded on a weekly basis and sometimes multiple times a week.

Getting the first big haircut during my cancer journey didn't physically hurt. But it definitely affected me. My oncologist strongly suggested I cut my hair because the treatment he recommended would make me lose my hair. I hate to admit that I cried my stylist cut my hair. It really wasn't so much about the hair as it that it was one more step. One more thing I had to do.

When I started this journey I was so overwhelmed with the number of appointments and the barrage of information I received from various sources. For many weeks, I was in a state of shock trying to absorb the details. I was also trying to keep up a brave front for my kids. I think that's been the hardest part. I never want to scare them. But truth be told, my husband and I were scared. We didn't always have the answers for them. I still feel like we don't.

Before and After

I wrote an essay about what it was like getting my first "big" haircut in preparation for possibly losing most of my hair, if not all of it, due to chemotherapy. You can find it here: Cancer in Quarantine Diaries: The Haircut. This was one time in the previous six weeks where I did not have an immediate family member nearby and I could be vulnerable. I did not have to put on brave face for my children, or even my husband. My husband has walked alongside me during this entire journey, but I still want to protect him from my own uncertainty and grief. It's hard to watch my husband suffer with me. During the haircut I was able to cry freely. When Julina started crying with me as she cut my hair, I knew she felt my fear and uncertainty. She also gave me a haircut to move confidently into the next stage.

One of the blessings about the journey is that friends and family have reached out with love and support. I didn't expect to get so much support from the salon I frequent. I knew that my stylist, Julina, would approach the situation with compassion. But I didn't expect all the love and support I received form the other stylists and their clients. Truly.

I know we were headed into a lockdown soon and that in some ways this journey was going to be more solo than I would have anticipated or preferred. It's still weird that when I finish the majority of my treatment, her will be people who I haven't seen because of the pandemic who won't even know that I have been going through cancer treatment. It's not something I have felt comfortable sharing on all of my social media platforms, because I don't want the sad eyes and I'm still processing. Can you still process something if it's been going on for two and half months. If you've been following the blog for the last few weeks and have been reading my stories. I'd still appreciate the prayers.

Looking to the Blessed Mother for Hope

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Tue, 26 May 2020 18:16:00 +0000

This from the annual May crowning at my FIL's home last year

My faith is a big part of who I am. I am grateful for the hope it gives me. My faith has grown so much in the last few months and I will touch more about that in another post. I just need to sort the words in my head. In the meantime I've been doing a little more praying and a lot more of giving thanks. It seems weird to say that I'm thankful in the time of having cancer during a pandemic, but I am.

May is a time that my family gathers together to takes time to remember those who have passed before us. We do it during the annual May crowning. Before becoming Catholic, I did not always understand the fascination with Mary. Jesus has always been the focus of my faith and how I follow His word. But over the last 14 years, I have learned to look to her for her example of faith. She was the first one to say "yes" to Him. That is a pretty darn big "yes" when she carried the Son of God. Not only does she teach us obedience, she also teaches us faith and sacrifice.

I am learning to love my children as Mary loved Jesus. It's not as easy as she makes it look. Sometimes my children try my patience to the point that I need to give myself a time out so that I don't say anything that I'll regret. Sometimes they make me say a whole lotta bad words in my head as they try to push their boundaries and establish their independence. It's all developmentally normal, but it does make me weep every so often. And some days, more often than I'd like to admit.

During this time of cancer in quarantine, I've been waking up every morning and pray a Hail Mary before starting the day. There is something about starting my day with a prayer that I feel less alone. It doesn't mean that the day will necessary be sunshine and roses, but it does start my day with a better attitude. In this time of uncertainty, I look to the Blessed Mother for hope and guidance. She's seen her more than her fair share of hardship and grief.

I share my thoughts in an essay I wrote for Medium: Missing the Crowning of Mary and Looking for Hope.

Where do you look for hope? Are you able to find it through out your day? I firmly believe that we are not alone, but sometimes you have to be willing to look.

I pray that you are safe and healthy. Thank you for taking the time to read my blog posts and my "diary" entries on Medium. Peace be with you.

The Loss of a Swim Season

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Fri, 22 May 2020 19:56:00 +0000

My kiddo swimming last summer

We got the word last night that our summer swim season has officially been canceled. My husband says that I am oddly conflicted by it. He's right. I am. I am undoubtedly relieved that we can continue to limit the germs that come home, but I'm grieving, too. I've been holding on to hope that things are getting better. But the loss of the season is a reminder that we're not quite there, yet. I'm still processing my feelings. Underneath it all I know that losing the summer swim season has less to do with missing out on a summer staple, and has more to do with my current situation. It's not the swim season. It's missing my community, missing my extended family, missing my friends, and the loss of certainty. I try to process my grief in my latest article: The Loss of a Swim Season and Stages of Grief

What Will my Children Remember?

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Tue, 19 May 2020 15:37:00 +0000

I'm still grappling with my diagnosis of HER2+ breast cancer. I haven't made it public on social media and I'm just starting to share it here. I have so many emotions that envelope me. There are good days and there are bad days. There are days I feel like a warrior and there are days that I just want to snuggle in and hunker down and ride out the wave of grief and terror in the safety of my family room couch. A lot of my emotions are tied to how my diagnosis and illness affect my children. It's always been about my children. I find that writing about my journey, my fears, my thoughts helps me to process all of it. And sometimes it just too big for me. I have big feelings and always have. My concern is how to allow my feelings to come out and how it affects my children. I don't want to scare them, but if I don't show some of the hardships, then it is a lie.

Most of the time when people ask "How are you?" I tell them the standard answer: fatigued. Fatigue is a safe answer. People are okay with that answer. They can understand fatigue. But not all of them understand the terror or the rage. I reserve those answers for my husband during the long evening walks around the neighborhood. I don't have to hide my feelings from him. He lets me cry and yell and throw things. I also share my real struggles with a friend who has undergone the pain of breast cancer. She doesn't chastise me for being angry. She doesn't tell me that I can't be angry. She tells me straight on: "Dude, it's sucks." And while she won't let me pity myself, she also doesn't tell me it's going to be easy or that it's all going to be okay, but because we quite frankly don't know. She sends the virtual hug and raises a glass to me and stands with me in solidarity.

And through it all, I am still in shock that I have breast cancer. I also know that I can frame this experience for my children. The world is in a standstill right now. We're all sheltering at home. In some ways this makes it easier, because then we don't have to worry as much about the germs that we can bring in from the outside and we have a better control of what we touch or who we interact with. For my husband, it's the grocery store. For me it's the lab for the weekly blood draws and the oncology nurses and the reclining chair for my weekly infusions. It's much harder to rein in four children who would interact with easily a hundred people in a given day if they were attending school. So I'm grateful that they are home. They understand the seriousness of my illness and to their credit, not one of them has complained about having to stay home.

We've spent our time watching movies, working on puzzles, coloring, listening to books, reading books, and cooking s'mores over the fire pit. My children have seen the fatigue, the naps, and the tears. I hope that's not the only thing they see and I write about it here: What will my Children Remember?

It's a journey. I'm still processing. And through it all I'm just as discombobulated as ever.

New Perspectives

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Mon, 18 May 2020 15:02:00 +0000

I have been working on my writing journey. Last year my story "Running Full Circle" was published in Chicken Soup for the Soul. (Happy Dance!) It was such a thrill to have a story published. Since then, I have been dedicating time to my craft when the littlest one was in preschool. It was all a precursor to next year where I would have more time to write. I was using the 3-4 hours a week I had available to write. I've continued to submit my work, and have another story that has been accepted and due to the current situation with COVID-19, the publishers are waiting to have it go out to the masses. When it does, I'll make sure to post it here and let you know.

As you know, the world has changed tremendously. The kids are home full time and are getting their education via distance learning. Our house has more laptops than seems normal. Time that was dedicated to writing is now used for supporting the kids while they learn from home, figuring out our new normal, and I really need to drop the "new" because now after 8 weeks it's just "normal." I'm not writing as often as I would like and when even when I can it is punctuated with doctor's appointments and fatigue.

While I wait for my next story to be submitted (details to come!) I decided to write for Medium. If you are not sure what that means, Medium is an online platform for reading stories from all around the world. It also makes a way for writers to share their work. I took the plunge and published an article I've been working on.

Here it is if you'd like to read it: Cancer in Quarantine: Perspectives

I have so much more to say on the topic, but my thoughts are still simmering.

Yes

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Fri, 25 Oct 2019 13:49:00 +0000

Yesterday, as we were driving home from errands my youngest sidekick as me if I liked to taking care of all of them all the time. Without hesitation I said, "Yes!" And you're thinking, of course you said, "yes" why wouldn't you? Because there was a time I would have hesitated and I would have cried and felt guilty about crying. Motherhood is hard. It's freaking hard. I was a teacher before I was a mother and I was a good teacher. I loved my students and I built a rapport with them. So much so, that I am still in regular contact with at least two of them. I've been out of the classroom for 11 years and I still get excited when I see or speak to a former student and they tell me how they're doing.

But my little one's question brought me such joy because I could honestly answer yes when I don't think I would have said it in the early years of motherhood. Motherhood was not an easy transition for me. I struggled with postpartum depression. As I was transitioning into motherhood I was transitioning out of job because I felt the job and the those in charge hated me. For years I struggled with the question, "Am I good enough?" Was I good enough mother? Was I good enough wife? Was I a good enough teacher? Forget being a good enough daughter, sister, or friend. I couldn't extend myself that far. I cried regularly because I felt like a failure in every part of my life.

A friend recently told me that when I quit teaching I put all of my energy into being the best mother. But I don't think she realized at the time how much I struggled and for how long I struggled. It took me about 8 years for me to become comfortable with being a stay at home mom and to think I was doing something right. Because I didn't. I never thought I did anything right. My husband saw my anxiety and concern and my sweet man tried his darnedest to make me see that I was doing just fine. And thank goodness for therapy. Therapy is not a bad word. My doctor helped me see what I couldn't and she taught me how to give myself grace.

This is a year of transitions for me. My oldest is applying to high schools programs, my second is applying to middle school programs, my third is applying to another elementary school program, and my youngest will be starting kindergarten in less than a year. Finally, when I feel like I have a handle on motherhood, one by one they are each finding their independence. It's so bittersweet. Each of them are tiptoeing out on their own and I feel like that mama bird who pushes her babies out of the nest encouraging them to fly.

This week my oldest has been in New York City with a school group. We sent him with prayers and hugs, money, the necessities he needed (clothes, deodorant, body wash, books), and without a cell phone (the horror!). He doesn't own a cell phone nor has he asked for one. He was with a large group and his chaperone (whom we adore and trust!) kept me in the loop daily (thank you, C!!!). And through her pictures and texts I saw my boy grow. He will come back a different person. He will still stink, roll his eyes at me, and be embarrassed by me, but he will be a little more independent, a little more mature, and a little more willing to take a few more steps out on his own. It's moments like these where I think maybe I've done something right.

It will be weird for me to learn how to live my life without a constant sidekick. This year is a practice run while JellieBean goes to preschool a whopping 5 hours a week. I will finally have time to run, write, run errands, and volunteer without a constant hand to hold, to receive a snuggle and a hug when I least expect it, and a little voice in my ear asking me what we are doing next. (Did you notice I didn't mention the house or laundry?)

When I asked JellieBean why she asked me if I liked taking care of them she said, "I never asked you before and I was just wondering. I think you like it, but I wanted to make sure." It's been a long time coming for me to be comfortable in this place in my life. To see my value as a stay at home mom, a wife, and mother. I love that JellieBean asked me and I could answer her in the affirmative. I want to be a positive role model for my kids. I want my girls to see that motherhood is an honorable vocation and not a chore. I want my sons to see motherhood (and fatherhood) is a blessing and to support their future wives if she decides she would like to stay home and raise their children.

I am so happy I said yes, even when I was scared. While I am a little crazed right now looking at new schools for the kids and helping them fill out their applications and find their testing dates, I know that this is but a short moment in time. In less than a year they will all be out of the house more than they are in it. I will start my new adventure in finding out who I am without a constant sidekick. I will have the strength to let go and let them tiptoe out on their own, while being there to anchor and guide them as needed. I'm glad I said, "yes."

"Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies." --Mother Teresa

Humbled by my Middle Schooler

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Wed, 02 Oct 2019 20:27:00 +0000

Wise beyond his years

My son and I had a recent conversation that humbled me. Our school district requires students to perform at least 75 hours of community service. They have to fill out a form, have it signed by the coordinator, and remember to turn in said form. Service hours are counted beginning in middle school and are collected through senior year of high school. The schools offer service hours and also have them incorporated in lessons. For example a class lesson might be a field trip to do a stream clean up. My son is in 8th grade. This happens to be the same year that he will be confirmed in our church. His Religious Education coordinator told the students that it is expected to do community service hours to support our parish in three ways: individually, with the family, and with fellow religious education students/community. She said that she expected them to do it and no, she will not collect forms, sign forms, or count hours. She is going to trust them to complete the required community service. They will take time throughout the year to discuss the work they are doing and the value of the work they are doing. Several of the students were put off by the concept of not being recognized by the work they were doing.

Maybe I'm doing something right?

Go back to my conversation with my 8th grader. He has completed his 75 hours of community service required by the school system. He's turned in the required paperwork and I can see online that it's been counted. He said he's done and he's not filling out another form. I started to argue with him that he can keep doing community service and why not fill out the form? He'll be recognized at high school graduation for doing more! He still has 4 years and the rest of 8th grade to rack up the hours! And this is where he stopped me and humbled me. He said, "Mom, just because I don't fill out the forms, doesn't mean I won't continue to help the community or our parish. I just don't see the point in tracking the hours. I've completed my hours, but it doesn't mean I'm done helping." And then he proceeded to list where is going to help and when. He has a plan. He had one all along and I missed it. I missed it because I was looking for the accolades and the recognition. And he is doing exactly what I am trying to teach him when we talk about corporal and spiritual works of mercy.

Doh. He is so right. Isn't this what I try to instill in my kids on the daily: We are called to serve one another. We don't do things to gain recognition and credit. We serve others because it is what is right. He just remembered it better than I did. I was both proud and humbled.

His reminder is coming at a time where I am feeling dismissed in my personal life. I do try to live by the motto: We are called to serve one another. I bring meals to others, take people to appointments, support behind the scenes, volunteer at school and activities and to do it without looking for accolades or recognition. And sometimes it does become overwhelming. There are weeks where I am out of the house everyday because I am checking in on someone or providing a service and I have little time do the things needed for my own family. And there are weeks when things slow down and I'm not needed. And I love serving. When all of my kids are in school full time I have discussed with my husband about several charities and organizations where I feel called to serve as a volunteer.

Me and my gaggle of kids

And I have to be completely transparent: there are times I am looking for that thank you or recognition because I feel that people see me solely as "that mom with all the kids" and I want to be known for more than that. I have felt and heard the disgust when people realize that I have a brood and they feel the need to comment on my procreative activities (None of their business thankyouverymuch). I have also been told, "Oh, I didn't recognize you without all of your kids" on the rare occasions I've gone out solo. I have felt the dismissal because people do not see the value of staying home with my family and supporting my husband. I remember the year that I had my third child. I frequently came to pick up the oldest from kindergarten with some new spit-up on my shoulder. I usually wore the same sweatshirt at pickup with my messy mom bun. I was pushing a stroller with two kids in it to meet the oldest. A teacher, knowing that I was looking to connect with other moms suggested to a mom with a child in the same class that maybe she and I could connect and she flat out told him that she and her husband are educated and that they don't associate with those kinds of people. I could only assume she meant me; The mom with the spit-up on her shoulder and disheveled clothes and the gaggle of kids in tow. She didn't bother to get to know me or know that I have a graduate degree in education. All she saw was the efforts of my labor: tired mom with the messy clothes and the gaggle of kids.

Recently a principal I know asked me if I was willing to come back as a substitute. He said they are waiting for me whenever I am ready and I have to admit that it felt damn good. He said he can give me as many hours as I wanted. He said he knew my family was important to me and that I can be flexible. This came at a time when I have felt dismissed, unappreciated, and undervalued. Maybe it's up to me overcome those feelings, but sometimes it's hard to push through when no one sees you. I am taking a class right now and my professor is totally dismissive. I thought maybe I was seeing something that wasn't there, but after three classes, he's definitely not a fan. And the unprovoked dislike is more than I can bear right now.

I'm not looking for sympathy. I am sharing this because I'm transparent and I had to be reminded by my 13 yo that our work is greater than looking for recognition. I am hurting and feeling dismissed and my innocent son reminded me that I am called to serve others and not to look for recognition. He did not know that I needed to hear this right now. My reward is not here on earth. The work that I do will hopefully continue after I'm gone. My goal is raise children who follow their faith, know that Jesus loves them, to serve Him by serving others, and to be kind. Saint Teresa of Calcutta reminds us, "We cannot all do great things. But we can do small things with great love."

What things are you doing with great love? And to those who are feeling dismissed, invisible, and unrecognized, peace be with you. You ARE doing great things, for without you, there would be less hope and less love. Continue to love.

Peace be with you.

Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Fri, 10 May 2019 12:52:00 +0000

For the past few months I have had some health issues. I was finally able to make it in for a doctor's appointment. It was with a doctor that I have been with for years and I trust him. We talked about my health and my concerns. He proceeded with his examinations and we talked about next steps. One of the steps was waiting for results. I like him because while he is cautious and matter of fact, he is not an alarmist. We talked through his thoughts and where he was headed in my healthcare. I appreciated all of it. And let me tell you 3 weeks to hear the results for something is a real freaking long time to wait! And fortunately the results came more quickly than that and all of my results were normal. My doctor was able to address the issue in an office visit. But we're both keeping an eye on it and I'm supposed to call him if my issues come up again.

So while I waited I thought of next steps and long term. I thought about my children and my husband and what I was going to do for different scenarios. I looked up my symptoms for the first week of waiting and then I let it go because worrying and perseverating were not going to get me anywhere and it only made me more anxious. That is not to say that I forgot about it, it was all in the back of my mind. Waiting, wondering, and thinking of next steps.

But as I waited and wondered, I also approached my parenting, my care for my husband, and daily activities very differently. The unknown made me more conscientious about how I was spending my time and how I interacted with people. All the irritations and mild annoyances that plague daily life became less irritating and less annoying. I was facing bigger disruptions if my health issues weren't cleared up with a routine doctor's appointment.

In those three weeks I learned a few things:

Take a deep breath before answering my children when they were being fussy, rude, and hot messes. Usually they low blood sugar or needing to use the bathroom is to blame. Address those issues first and then everything else will usually fall into place.

Nothing is a big deal and most of the time a meal, a nap, going to the bathroom, or a time out with a good book will cure most of the woes...especially when it comes to children and low blood sugar.

There is no use worrying about something. Make plans for a plot twist in life, but don't worry. Making plans is helpful and useful, worrying is not.

Spend time with the people who matter to you. Friends and laughter will help with an anxious soul and help put worry aside, even if for a few hours.

And by the same token, don't waste time on people who do not add value to your life. I spent some time unfollowing and unfriending people on social media. I realized that their negativity was cluttering up my life in a way that is unhealthy for me. I can choose who I spend time with and how I want to spend my time. And some people are not worth the extra effort of scrolling through their images and negativity. Buh-bye.

Keep going. While I made adjustments to my perspective on everyday life, I didn't stop living it. I still got up every morning, made breakfast and lunches, did the laundry, menu planned, and I exercised. I didn't tell the kids I was worried. I just kept moving forward, but with a better attitude. I think they noticed. I snuggled more, I read more books with them, and my answer was often: "Take a deep breath. It's not the end of the world. Let's step away from this right now and we'll go back to it in an hour. Go do something fun. Read a book. Eat a snack. Color. Be creative." You know what? That made a huge difference. My kiddos were able to go back later to whatever mini-crisis they were having and have a different perspective and accomplish something that seemed impossible earlier in the day.

Nothing puts life into perspective like having a health concern that may put you out of commission for a lonwhile or permanently. I was scared stupid. I wanted to talk to my friends and my sisters, but I also didn't have any information except it may be cancer or it may be absolutely nothing. So while I waited, I made plans with many friends, took an evening walk with my husband every night talking about the day, and hugged my kids extra long everyday. Now that my health concerns have passed, I still do those things. I'm making plans to spend more time with friends, I hug my kids extra long every single day, and I spend extra time with my husband with an evening stroll or sitting on the couch watching a favorite show. It has been much easier to cull out what is the important thing I need to accomplish today: Love my family...and probably feed them ;p Peace be with you.

"Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the action that we do. If you want to bring happiness to the whole world, go home and love your family."
--Mother Teresa

Lenten Journey

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Fri, 19 Apr 2019 21:56:00 +0000

Good Friday is a day of contemplation, reflection, and fasting. I still think of myself as someone who is still fairly new to her faith. This Easter I am will be celebrating my 13th birthday in the Church but I am still learning and still growing in my faith. It is definitely a journey and not always an easy one. I am often convicted and then filled with grace as I listen to the homily and receive the Eucharist. There are times I leave Mass full of reflection and conviction and I strive to do better throughout the week: To love more, to forgive more easily, to be more patient, to live as an example of Jesus’ love, grace, and mercy. I am a sinner and while I do my best to live a good life filled with love and charity I make mistakes. I judge, do not easily forgive others, and I am not as patient as I should be with others.

With that being said, I find that Lent gives me time for introspection, contemplation, reflection, and being open to grace. I have the hardest time with fasting. When people think of Lent they often think of giving up sweets and chocolate. And while that is how I initially started my journey 13 years ago starting with the “easier” things to give up, I have learned that fasting is not just giving up the sweet things it also means fasting from things that me less of the type of person I want to be. About 5 years ago we started fasting from television during Lent. It was really hard for me. I love television and the mental break it gives me from reality. But I found that my kids and I were too invested in the characters on the screen versus the people in real life. So we gave up television for Lent. It was hard the first time and has become easier each year. This year even the littlest one knew that we were giving up television and asked if we could play in the basement away from the tv on the first day of Lent because the temptation of asking to turn on the television would be too much. We spent a couple of hours in the basement. While I crocheted she played with her doll house and dollies making up stories for them. Giving up sweets and television are very tangible ways to practice fasting.

But there are the others ways to abstain and they are not as easy for me. I am also learning to abstain from judgmental thoughts and an unwillingness to forgive easily. I still struggle with fasting from social media, but I am learning that I need to give that one up more regularly. Too often I compare myself to others and lament my own inadequacies in my parenting journey. That is not a healthy place to be because most people only post the good things they want people to see. Other people post only the negative things that are affecting us. There needs to be a balance and I do not often see it on Facebook. There are a few pages that give me peace, grace, and balance and I try to stick with those. And can I say that #Catholictwitter has been kind of amazing this Lenten season? I started following priests, brothers, and nuns on Twitter. I almost never post on Twitter, but I have become enriched and more reflective by reading their tweets, especially during Holy Week. But they are not always so serious. They find humor in their chosen vocation. Knowing that they are not always serious, makes my own faith journey a little easier: To know that I can be silly and devout, to know that I can still hold onto my beliefs while loving others, to be forgiven when I sin. It’s a beautiful and sometimes arduous journey.

This brings me back to today: Good Friday. A day in years past that was really difficult for me because I like food, I like sweets, I like being comfortable and Good Friday takes away all of that. It is in the uncomfortable that I find my true self and it’s not pretty. I am not a nice person when I am hangry and focused on hunger and food. I am not as patient and forgiving. I do not want to be contemplative and reflective. I want to eat. I want to feel comfortable. And I want my kids to fall in line. But I have learned over the years to offer it up. My kids will often hear me mutter to myself during Lent, “Just offer it up. OFFER.IT.UP.” It’s a little silly, but oh so true. Saying it aloud makes me try just a little bit harder. And also, my kids see Mama struggles sometime, but she tries and I think that’s a good example to give them. We are not perfect creatures and showing our children our own vulnerability will hopefully make them more open to understanding their mistakes, asking for forgiveness, and sometimes just offering up their struggles to Jesus because we need a little divine help in getting through this journey.

Jesus sacrificed his life for ours so that we can have eternal salvation. It puts things in perspective for me. It makes me feel rather petty and small to be worried about my own comfort. And now, I look forward to these times of forced discomfort. Because let’s be real, sometimes we do not do things unless forced. And Lent and Good Friday is a good time to do things out of my comfort zone. It is a set time in my life to be more focused on what the kind of person I want to be for myself and for others. I’m not saying I can’t do this all year long, but as time goes by, I start to fall in my old habits and Lent becomes a time of growth and renewal.

What does it mean to be "Light of the World"

Today I was reminded of my faith journey. Not only because of Good Friday, but because of the family faith lesson I did with my son on his journey to receive his first Eucharist. Today the lesson was “Be the Light!” My son and I read several instances in the Gospels where Jesus showed mercy and love to everyone, even to the ones that others thought were undeserving. My son was asked to list some ways he can be like Jesus and while he filled out his sheet, I thought brought back to my own thoughts of how I can live like a light into the world.

I have also started to look forward to attending the Stations of the Cross during Lent. Each time I attend I find something that speaks to me. Today it was Station 9 when Jesus falls the third time. The leader prayed from the booklet we use: The Way of the Cross,” …Almighty and eternal God, you permitted your Son to be weakened, crushed, and profaned so that He might rise from the dead freed from the ravages of sin. Help us to accept our weaknesses and failings as forerunners of our glorious resurrection in union with your Son.” Asking for help to accept our weaknesses and failings made me think of a recent story I shared about how I am learning to accept my mistakes and perceived failures and learning to recalculate when situations do not go as expected. Asking for help is powerful when facing trouble.

There was a time I dreaded Lent and Good Friday and now I look forward to it. I look forward to this time where I can be introspective and learn not only to receive grace but also to give grace when I rather not.

As we turn the corner towards Easter how can I pray for you? How can we each be examples of God’s love and mercy especially in a time of political and social discord? How can we be a light unto one another when the rest of the world seems so negative. I wish you peace at this time. Please pray for me as we come to the end of our Lenten journey this year and that I may continue my journey towards peace, grace, and mercy. Peace be with you.

Be Amazed

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Fri, 21 Sep 2018 15:00:00 +0000

Last weekend we went to visit my husband's aunt for a housewarming get together. I love spending time with our extended family and I love any time that my kids get to spend time with any of their cousins.

While we were there my 16 year old nephew was sharing card tricks to the range of 3-12 year old cousins who were in attendance. I happened to pass through to check on JellieBean when Buggy asked him to show me his card trick. I dutifully sat down and gave him my utmost attention. He did his card trick and I immediately let out a, "Whoah! That's cool!" He looked at me a little doubtfully at first, but there was no denying my sheer enjoyment. He leaned back and said, "That's the reaction I wanted." He waved towards his younger cousins and said, "They just sat there. They weren't amazed." And his cousins nodded seriously and said, "Yeah. Now show her another one." They were just as entertained by my reaction.

My nephew showed me another card trick and was pleased by my reaction. He said that I was the audience he wanted to have and we made deal that he would learn a few new ones and he would show them to me at the next big family gathering. And it struck me, "Be amazed." I think that phrase could be said about any of the simple pleasures in life. As I read through past posts on my blog I notice that the common thread is about time passing us by too quickly. I am almost trying to hold onto time, but it slips through like water in between by fingers. I can't catch it and I can't hold on to it. But I can enjoy it while I have it.

The littles quickly figured out the card trick and offered to show me the secret and I declined. I didn't want to know. I wanted to be "amazed." I spend so much of my life trying to coordinate and organize my family of six that most of the time I don't take the time or feel that I have the time to be amazed. I only see my to do list and I keep pushing through.

One of the neat things about having more than one child and especially having four is that by the time the next one comes around you are a little more confident in your parenting abilities that you can absolutely enjoy the time you have with your kids. Or if you have one kid, as time goes on you realize, "You've got this" and you can relax and enjoy time with your kid and not worrying about every little thing. I have a friend who makes the most of every minute she has with her kids. They are always going on adventures even if it's to the little beach by their house. They are looking at seashells, little creatures, enjoying the feel of sand or water between their toes. She clutches to those small moments in time because when she at work, she has to be 100% percent on the job as a labor and delivery nurse and in that job, time is of the essence. I have another friend who works mad hours and I scroll through her instagram pictures of her time at the park, out for a meal, or out for a run with her little one. And there are times I feel like I should be doing more of that; Just enjoying time with the kiddos and to be amazed at our surroundings and the new skills they have and want to share with me.

Peter reminded me to "be amazed" with the small pleasures. As I sit here waiting for my JellieBean to be released from preschool, I am enjoying the clicking of the keys as I type, I'm watching the falling leaves outside my window, and I am enjoying the contented feeling of drinking a rare hot mug of tea. I don't have to be anywhere immediately. I can take a breath and reflect. My preschooler's advice might be the best one given today, "Enjoy your time with Daddy while I'm at preschool." Even at three years old she has unlocked the secret to happiness: "Enjoy your time."

So as we hurtle through the weekend and all the activities it holds: What will amaze you?

"So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun." Ecclesiastes 8:15 (NIV)

Slowing Down

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Wed, 12 Sep 2018 13:30:00 +0000

Oh, how I wish I would talk to my younger self, 11+ years and 4 babies ago, sitting with that brand new baby and say, "Nothing matters, but spending time with your little one. He'll sleep through the night. He'll potty train. He'll learn to dress himself." Here I am with "baby" number four and she isn't really a baby anymore. She decided at 18 months that she wanted to potty train and before her third birthday she successfully potty trained, mostly from her own doing She's also dressing herself and getting into her seat at the kitchen table all by herself. Where did the time go? As I look ahead to next year and considering preschool programs, I find myself slowing down. And the more I want to slow down, the faster the time goes. I feel like that's the theme for this blog. Time just gets faster the more I want to slow it down and #babiesdontkeep.

When baby #1 came around I was so unprepared. Of course I read all the baby books and took the nursing class and the infant classes. I had been around babies. I babysit all through high school and even a little through college. But nothing, nothing, prepared me what I was in for. The sleepless nights, crying babies who couldn't be soothed, the Aspergers/autism diagnosis for one my children, the joy I felt when they called me by name the first time, the exhaustion I felt when they don't stop calling my name while I'm in the bathroom.

Now, with baby #4 I know what to expect. By the time she came around, I knew that she could sleep in the same room with us in a co-sleeper and we'd both sleep better. I knew that switching to formula for her to gain weight was not the end of bonding because she needed more than nursing. I knew that she'd eventually potty-train and probably before I was ready. And I knew that she'd be on the go and that I'd never catch up once she started walking. And now all I want to do is savor every cuddle. On a recent trip to a crafts store to pick up materials for a project, Beanie decided that she wanted to push the cart up and down the aisle. Nine years ago, I would have been frazzled with 2 kids under 3 and there is no way I would have let my 3 year old push the cart. I also probably wouldn't be leisurely wandering up and down the aisles of a crafts store looking for materials for a project that I wanted to do.

It's always easier to do things for our kids. Put their shoes on, put on their jackets, hold their backpacks, push them in the stroller so they aren't walking ever so slowly while we are in a mad rush to get to school on time. My husband has always been so much better than I have been with teaching the kids to become independent. He taught the first three kids how to dress themselves. He taught the older two how to get their own breakfast cereal in the morning and how to cook oatmeal in the microwave. And I am grateful. He helped me by teaching our children how to do things for themselves. He was the youngest of five and learned how to be independent. Like in any large family, his siblings helped him and he learned to do things on his own. I came from a small family and my mom graciously did a lot of things for me. It wasn't until I lived on my own in college that I learned to do laundry and how to cook. And I could only make about 3 meals when I got married. Fortunately, I've learned a few more since then.

And as I sit here contemplating that the last one started preschool today and that I started writing this post 9 months ago, I have not slowed down too much. In fact not only haven't I slowed down, but neither has time. I'm sitting here feeling a little guilty that I am going to sit and take time to write and work on some personal goals. I have exactly 90 minutes to do that. Once Beanie gets home from preschool it will be business as usual: chores, errands, making dinner, coordinating the family calendar, and the usual to-do list. But this 90 minutes is mine to slow down, take stock, reflect, and renewal. #thisis40

Proverbs 16:9 In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps.

Almost Wordless Wednesday--Running Buddy

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Wed, 20 Sep 2017 15:46:00 +0000

My son and I after his first 10K

Within the last year, my oldest has taken up running races with me. Usually it entails him rolling out of bed minutes before I leave, scarfing down a quick breakfast, and totally smoking me in the race. At the end of his first race he said, "Mama, where were you? I was waiting for you and I was getting a little worried because you were taking so long!" Yeah, kid, I run a LOT slower than you do!

Ever since that first 5K race, we realized that he is a natural runner and has run several 5Ks, a 5-miler, and most recently a 10K with me. And by "with me" I mean, we travel together, the starter goes off, and he's gone. Several times he has said that he'll start with me and then take off. Hasn't happened yet. I think the adrenaline gets to him and he's gone.

I registered him for rec Cross Country. He only has to run a mile and I told him that it was good for him to work on his speed work. We have a 5K to sign up for and I realize that it is less than 10 days away and I really should sign up for it ASAP! I am happy to have a running buddy and that my sweet boy has found something that he enjoys. He enjoys the race and his aunt made him an awesome bib hanger/chalkboard where he can write down his race times. I love that this is something that he and I can do this together. I strive to look for something to do with each of my children and to partake in their interests. Whether it's racing with #1, coloring in our favorite coloring books with #2, playing legos with #3, or watching Cinderella over and over again with #4. As they age, I'm sure their interests will change and I hope I can keep up.

First Week of School 2017

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Sat, 09 Sep 2017 00:30:00 +0000

We are finishing up the first week of school. I think in some ways I was more nervous than the kids. We have a new schedule with the oldest starting middle school. He is on his way to the bus stop by the time I wake up the other kids. He is probably finishing up first period before we even walk out the door to make it school. Hubby has committed to taking Boogs to the bus stop in the morning which is a huge help. I have even been able to work out a few mornings before I had to wake up the house. I even had breakfast every single morning before I took the middle kids to school. This is a huge win because there are many mornings where I have walked out the door without breakfast only to realize I'm starving at the end of my workout.

Boogie has had a pretty good week. He did forget his binder yesterday and Hubby came back to the house to grab it and made it back just in time before Boogie grabbed the bus. I don't think I have mentioned it before but Boogie has been diagnosed with a learning disability and has an IEP. The last two years have been difficult with a case manager who just didn't do her job and this is by her own admission during a transition meeting. I mean, Seriously???? Already this year, Boogie's case manager has contacted me every day about things here and there and has checked in with him every.single.day. She has made the transition to middle much smoother. Boogie struggles with organization and executive functioning. As a result he has already forgotten to turn in his summer homework and has started cramming papers in his backpack. She has already started working with him on his organization. Amazing. It's like night and day between last year's case manager and this year's case manager.

Buggy is starting 3rd grade and we're blessed that she has fantastic teacher. Boogie had her in 3rd grade and we are thrilled to be with the same teacher this year. Buggy has just a few friends in her class this year. That will be a challenge, but she does get to see the rest of her friends during recess. She is already looking forward to signing up for her favorite after school art class and this year she wants to join the chess club. Yes, to all of this!

Mr. Bananas had a much harder transition. We were thrilled to find out that he has another fantastic teacher. She taught Buggy in first grade and we are thrilled to have another kid in her class this year. Even though he had the teacher he wanted, I knew something was up when Mr. Bananas ended up in our bed every night since coming back from the beach. The morning on the first day of school was atrocious as he woke up in a terrible mood, screaming at us, slamming doors, and basically losing his mind. I knew it was just anxiety, but my patience was up when he slammed his bedroom door and I found him sitting in bed reading a book instead of getting ready for school. He pulled it together and ended up have a great day. He hasn't been in our bed since, so it's safe to assume that he's more comfortable with starting first grade.

I think Beanie has had the hardest time. All of her favorite playmates are in school and she is the last one at home. She so desperately wants to go to school. After we dropped off all the kids at school. I went upstairs to get something and found her sitting on the floor facing the tv, which was turned off, rubbing her blanket and crying quietly. When we snuggled she told me she missed her "sib-bings."

As the week has gone on, the mornings are smoother, and I'm finding that the earlier wake up time with the first born is allowing me to get a little bit more done during the day, whether it's an early morning work out, washing all the dishes, or putting in a load of laundry. I miss my big kids, but I know that they are in good hands. I'm relishing my mornings with the "baby" and looking forward to getting more done during the day.

It's Friday so tonight will be a yummy dinner followed by family movie night. Boogie and I will get up early tomorrow for his first cross country practice and we are all enjoying a rare quiet weekend before all of the weekend activities begin in the next couple of weeks. We're still transitioning which means tired kids, earlier bedtimes, and a quiet-ish weekend. And as I write this, Hubby has nixed family movie night because the kiddos are so tired. We'll try for tomorrow night.

As the school week draws to an end, I am grateful for all the teachers who work so hard to provide an positive learning environment for their students. I am grateful for the teachers who have my most precious babies in their classes. I am grateful for the the administrations that support their teachers. Here is to a happy and healthy new school year. Peace be with you.

Third grade and first grade, here they come!

Buggy, ready for 3rd grade

She was all smiles until she realized that they were leaving her

"I miss my sib-bings"

After school picture. They came home with smiles.

Enjoying an after school ice cream treat.

Babies Don't Keep

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Thu, 31 Aug 2017 00:38:00 +0000

Family pic with my parents

We've only been home 4 days since coming home from our beach trip. And already, I am busy with appointments, prepping for the first week of school, fielding email, and honestly, just sucked into social media (bleh!) Social media really is my weak spot. I like catching up with what's going on with my friends, but I'm finding myself losing time.

Last week was wonderful week spent with my parents and my father-in-law. I loved this multi-generational beach vacation. It meant that my children were able to spend some quality time with their grandparents. And as close as we live to my parents, I wish my kiddos were able to spend time with them a little more. My father just retired, so maybe we'll get to him more often. And no, I don't mean for babysitting. I mean just to see him and spend time with him. My mom still works full-time, so that's a little harder.

Grandpa and the kiddos

One of the best parts of our vacation is that we do not turn on the tv and I spend way less time on my phone. I ran almost every single day of vacation and it was glorious. During the week we put together a puzzle, went out for ice cream, browsed the local bookstore, and listened to audiobooks while playing games. My kids had so much fun playing Uno. The giggles were great. We also did one night of Settlers of Catan. I swear my big kid really draws out the game because he likes to negotiate every time it's his turn. It drives me a little batty. But overall, it's a good time had by all.

And it's during vacation that my big kids get up without complaint to catch a sunrise. My dad started this tradition last year. And yes, it's becoming a tradition. The big kids like that they get this special time with Lolo and Lola. It's so special to them that they don't want me to miss it so my Buggy asks me to catch a sunrise with her on another day. I thought she had forgotten this year, but sure enough two days before we left she asked me if we could catch the sunrise. She even invited her older brother along. It was so worth it. We headed to the beach. I saw that it was cloudy, but we got to see the sunrise and it was glorious. I appreciate that my sweet daughter thinks of me and tries to make me slow down and appreciate the here and now. She encourages me to be present even though my mind is racing with all the things on my "to-do" list.

On the last morning, I had woken up early. I planned to finish packing up the house and getting it ready. I was relishing a little quiet time before I had to wake up the house. But sure enough, my sweet daughter was already awake. We opted to eat breakfast together on the back stoop and we spend our time chatting. I asked her how she felt about the impending school year. While she is excited to have the teacher she wanted, she was nervous about some of her academic struggles. We were able to go through them, talk about them, and come up with some ways to address them this school year. If I had gotten to eat breakfast solo as I had anticipated, I would have missed this precious time with my girl. It was time she needed with me to reassure her, to comfort her, and for her to have one-on-one time with Mama. It was so good to spend that time with her.

As my kids start another school year: 6th grade (read: MIDDLE SCHOOL...EEEK!), 3rd grade, and 1st grade, I'm really starting to feel my time with my kids slowly slipping away. I'm way too busy and I'm way to preoccupied with what needs to be done. Being at the beach gives me that opportunity to slow down. But that is only one week. In the next two weeks, my kids will begin their fall activities. Their Saturdays will be filled with meets and games and their evenings filled with homework. Somehow, through all that, I need to find carve out time to be present and to be with them. Thankfully, we sit down for dinner together every night. Hubby is trying to make it home earlier, but most nights it's just me and the kids. And I am grateful for this sliver of time to be with them and to hear about their day. When they say "Babies Don't Keep" they weren't kidding. May you find time for the people you love and to be present for tomorrow doesn't keep.

True Love

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Mon, 28 Aug 2017 22:39:00 +0000

Always my Superman

My husband and I recently celebrated our 16th wedding anniversary. We were babies when we were married. Just graduated from college and working real salaried jobs. I remember Hubby's father interviewing us before our wedding asking if we knew what we were getting into, to which I replied with, "Of course." He said the real answer is, "No. No we don't." He was so right. We thought we knew what we were in for, but really we had no clue. I don't know if anyone really knows. Were we ready, yes. But did we really comprehend what we were doing. Heck no. It has been a roller coaster of emotions and events over the last 16 years. And yet, 16 years later, we would still do it all over again. It was the right decision then, and it's still the right decision now.

When sharing my experiences about true love with some of the teens/young adults that I mentor, I tell them that true love is not flowers and fancy dinners. True love is your spouse washing vomit filled sheets at two in the morning. It's tag teaming each other when every single person in your family of six has the stomach flu and no one feels well and everyone is vomiting. You take turns sleeping and cleaning out vomit buckets. It's finding out your 8yo came home with a head full of lice, stripping all the sheets, treating everyone's head, and then picking nits out of each other's head at midnight. It's looking across the dinner table and laughing at an untold joke. It's being able to read each other so well that few words are needed.

True love is not the fancy stuff, it's the nitty gritty life stuff and doing it together. It's knowing that you can rely on your spouse and that your spouse can depend on you. I wouldn't give up the last 16 years and I look forward to many more of life's adventures with the love of my life. It doesn't have to be fancy. It just has to be with him.

Where do I Fit? I Don't Know.

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Wed, 18 Jan 2017 19:36:00 +0000

I know. I have written sporadically. I actually do keep up on The Discombobulated Mommy Facebook page. It's not every day, but I still keep up and share pictures. These days, I rarely find the time to sit and write out full blog posts. I miss it. I miss writing regularly. I have so much I need to record and yet, life keeps me busy and I have so little to time reflect, ponder, and absorb. Maybe that's what I need to do more.

So what has prompted me to write this current post? I just found out via Facebook, that I am a bit of a unicorn. Yes. A unicorn. I find that I don't ever quite fit neatly into a label. I'm too liberal for my conservative friends and I am far too conservative for my liberal friends. Often I scroll through Facebook and I cringe and scroll on when I read such posts as: "All Christians believe..." "All Pro-lifers don't..." "All Republicans are..." Fill in the blank. Usually when posts lump you in with "all" it's not a good thing. Although I consider myself a writer, I don't feel that I am always articulate. Passionate, yes. Articulate, no. And therefore I rarely jump into the social media arguments.

So about 3 years ago, on Facebook, I posted a link to an inflammatory article about Planned Parenthood and those who support it. I posted the article because of the very last sentence, "We have to care." That was the one line that truly resonated with me. I was raked over the virtual coals by friends who were insulted and incensed by what I had chosen to post and I was asked to think very carefully about my audience and maybe I just shouldn't post those types of things. Most people didn't read the article because they were so ticked by headline. After 3 days of going back and forth on Facebook on this one particular post, a lot of good discussion came out of it though in the end we still agreed to disagree. Three years later, I am still hurt by what people said to me and how harshly they said it. My heart still pounds when I think of that article and my face still flushes with embarrassment. I never meant to insult anyone and fortunately one of my friends (who still disagreed with the article) pointed that out. I am frustrated with myself for not being as articulate as I wanted to be and having such a thin skin and not standing up for myself a little better.

So I bring you to today. In two days we will have a new President. There has been a lot of frustration and anger as what our country has done by electing Donal Trump as our new president. And speaking with friends, many didn't vote for him or for Hillary Clinton. I was frustrated that the candidates I wanted to vote for weren't around by the time it came for my state to put in their vote. So I was left with two people who I felt did not represent me. But I still voted. As per usual, I voted with an significant issue in mind. I voted for life. I voted for a possible third party candidate who had a pro-life platform. Alas, he did not win. But at least I tried. I voted.

The day after the Presidential Inauguration, there will be Women's March. Many of my friends started posting about it and how they wanted to be a part of it. I warily looked into. So many good reasons to go. So many voices to be heard. So many important topics to support and I would be proud to support them. But again, I watched the posts on Facebook from several friends and groups. I was invited, along with others, to walk with local women, many of them personal friends. And yet, I hesitated. I continued to watch, read, and listen. And more and more I felt like I didn't quite belong. You see, and what you have probably have already deduced is that I am a pro-life woman. And at the time that the beginning preparations for the march were happening, that probably didn't matter. So what? But you see, as a pro-life woman, it is often asked why wouldn't one support women's rights? How could I, as a woman, not support other women? But did you know that you can still be a feminist and be pro-life? And actually, I wasn't sure if you could. I knew that I was, but I knew others wouldn't consider me a feminist, so I doubted my existence. I allowed other people to label me and set me aside solidly into one camp. It didn't bother in the sense that I was still going to support women's rights, but I would also support the rights of the pre-born.

Over the last few months I have read personal heart-wrenching stories from women about why they are grateful abortion is legal and why late-term abortion should be legal. I wept. I wavered in my position. I wondered and still do if there can't be a better way to support these women so that they don't have to go through still-births, horrific miscarriages, and instances where they felt that abortion was the only possible choice for them. And I don't have an answer. It doesn't mean I've stopped looking for one. But it does mean that I am working harder at supporting women at all stages. Being pro-life means that we look at the whole and not just the birth of the baby. It means supporting the mamas who have made the decision to keep their babies even though their circumstances were less than ideal. Being pro-life means providing better and affordable health care for women and the men and families who support them. Being pro-life means, advocating for better mental health care. This one hits personally as I am who struggles, sometimes daily, with depression. A depression that can be so profound that it has tipped to the side of suicidal thoughts as recently as two years ago. How can I be pro-life while at the same time contemplating my own suicide. Paradoxical isn't it? It happens. Again, I don't fit into any one box.

We so often link pro-life advocacy and pro-choice advocacy as if they go hand in hand. But pro-life is more than just the birth of a baby. It is the support of life throughout various physical and mental challenges, and I am talking about the every day person, not just infants. And I believe that being pro-choice is more than just abortion. You may disagree with me. And that's okay. Which brings me to my point.

Women are angry and frustrated with the politics surround them. They want to march in Washington, Chicago, New York, and wherever a group of women can get together and support their ideals and values. We want you to HEAR us. But I unfortunately found out through social media that I don't exist because I can't be pro-life and a feminist, and because I don't exist, I don't have a voice. And that is frustrating to me. So I won't be marching. Organizers have decided to make a pro-choice platform a very big one and as a result have dissolved a partnership from one of the pro-life feminist groups who applied and was granted partnership for the march.. Oh, wait, you didn't know that there were pro-life feminists groups? Neither did I until recently and that is when I found out that I was unicorn. That there are others like me who feel strongly about women's issues AND the life of the pre-born. But I digress. I am sad and frustrated to know that we as women, have alienated one another at a time we should be walking in solidarity. That we are not allowing every voice to be heard in partnership with the march. Yes, the pro-life feminist groups will still march in solidarity. But they will not be considered a partner. And that is is to me a sad commentary of what this election has done to our country. It has divided us when we should be united. Let us be heard. Let all the voices carry weight. And let us do it with compassion, empathy, and grace.

As I struggled about what I could do and what I wanted to do and how I wanted to approach the post election days and years to come, I know that I wanted to still be a voice. So, I personally have decided to put my head down and work. Work to help others. I will choose to be kind, to support other people, and to work for social justice. I realize that I don't need to be loud. That's not necessarily my personality either. But I can still donate diapers and wipes to the pregnancy center. I can make baby blankets for new babies. Afghans for new mamas. I can provide meals for a homeless shelter. I can provide food for a food pantry. I can bring my children and teach them do the same. And we do it in solidarity. We do it to provide support in whatever way we can. Sometimes quiet servitude is all that it is needed. There will always be someone more articulate, louder, more knowledgeable than I am. So instead of being flustered or insulted or labeled, I will simply be Heather. A mother. A wife. A writer. A slow runner. A person who is often discombobulated and lacks organization or the ability to keep to a schedule. A person who will always struggle to know the value of her self-worth, but will work at it each and every day. A person with great passion. And I will try to remember to do small things with great love. And I humbly ask each of you: no matter what you believe in, please approach each day with great love and compassion. We are called to serve one another. I think we will find that when we serve one another, we will begin to unify and heal our hurting country.

As Always, very humbly yours,
Heather, The Discombobulated Mommy

She is Worth More than Rubies

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Sun, 10 Apr 2016 15:03:00 +0000

Giving my mother-in-law a rose as a part
of our wedding mass

On Leap Day this year,my mother-in-law passed on from this life and went to be with her Savior. It was only 7 hours from the time I heard the news that she was going to the hospital and to the news that she had passed away. My sister-in-law Becky texted all of her siblings and their spouses to let us know that when she went by to visit her mother that she was disoriented and not feeling well so Becky called 911 and Mom was transported to the hospital. At the time we thought she was dehydrated because Mom had thought she had a stomach bug and hadn't eaten or had much to drink prior to when Becky came to visit. But as time went on the prognosis was not good. Mom had had a heart attack sometime after the paramedics came and they were able to resuscitate her. The doctors did find that she was bleeding in her abdomen and immediately began prepping for surgery. However, as they prepped, they realized that they wouldn't be able to repair the bleeding artery and that my husband's mother was dying. We received another text minutes after Hubby came home from work saying that the doctors recommended everybody come to the hospital. Within 15 minutes my husband was changed out of his work clothes, grabbed some food, hustled out the door and drove 45 minutes to be with his family. Around 11pm that night, I received a text from my sweet husband telling me his mother had died. I cried.

Hubby and his mom during the mother and son
dance during our wedding reception

It happened so fast and it was so unexpected. The grief that surrounded us was numbing and the all of it seemed surreal. This could not be happening. But it did happen. My husband had lost his mother and my children had lost their grandmother.

I was lucky and blessed to have had a wonderful mother-in-law. She accepted and welcomed me into the family. My husband is the youngest of five and the last one to be married. My mother-in-law treated me as if I was one of her own children. She shared her love of books and her strong faith with me. She introduced me into Diana Gabaldon's Outlandish world and she prayed for me during my conversion into the Catholic faith. She came to the hospital after the birth of each of my children, usually being one of my first visitors. She and Dad came with flowers and arms ready to hold small bundles of joy. She cherished each of her 22 grandchildren and did all she could to spend one-on-one time with each one for their birthdays. Mom loved being a grandmother and she was good mother-in-law.

Grandma with her 13th grandchild, Boogie

As the days slipped by one by one, my husband and I were gripped with a grief like we had never felt before. Life seemed much more vulnerable and fragile. My husband grieved silently and spent many days with his siblings and his father preparing funeral arrangements. After a few days he spoke and shared his version of what he saw and experienced in those final hours. My heart broke again. It was difficult to be strong for him and keep up with daily routines for our children while I also grieved. My husband is an amazing man. His strength and tenderness are incredible. He wrote and shared his eulogy at the funeral. He mourned. He grieved. He met each day getting by one hour at a time. His grief encompassed him and I felt like there was nothing I could do to ease his pain or his grief.

I also grieved and felt that I could not lay claim on the grief I had. I felt that it could not belong to me because it was not for me to take. It was not my birth mother who had died. Yet, I grieved. I had known my mother-in-law for nearly 20 years and she was a constant in my life. I grieved for my husband. I grieved for my father-in-law. I grieved for my sisters and brother-in-law. I grieved for my children. And I grieved for myself. When I finally allowed myself to lay some claim on the grief, the pain eased. But it eased in miniscule increments, like water droplets.

Grandma with her 16th grandchild, Buggy

I was touched to be asked to be one of mom's pall bearers during the funeral. I cried as I, my brothers-in-law, and my sister-in-law walked Mom down the aisle towards the front of the church. My sweet baby took tissues and wiped my face when I came to our pew. My husband gave his eulogy during the wake. My sister-in-law Mary sang and cantored the funeral service. Every person in our family had a part in the funeral service. My two youngest greeted the visitors. My big kids handed out programs. My oldest brought up the eucharist with his cousins. My in-laws and husband walked Mom up and down the aisle for the wake. We all had a part. We were all included. Every grandchild was given a part to be a part of their grandmother's exit from the physical world. It was humbling, loving, inclusive, and sad. And sad doesn't even begin to cover it.

Grandma and Grandpa with their
19th grandchild, Mr. Bananas

When my family embraced our grief and accepted it, it was then that we were able to move on. It doesn't mean we don't greet each day with a bit of sadness. It meets us at unexpected times. It comes over us. It passes over us. It kisses our cheeks. And then it slides away, but it doesn't go far. It's always there. It lingers. Through this sadness my husband and I have clung to each other a little more tightly. The kisses goodbye when he leaves for work are more tender. Our hugs are a little tighter. We say "I love you" in greeting and in passing. We hold hands a little longer. We snuggle in a little closer on the couch. All in the effort to remind each other that we are together, that are we there for each other, and that we are doing this life together.

We feel more vulnerable. More exposed. More fragile. So therefore, we hold on a little tighter.

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 “Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.”

Grandma with her 22nd and last grandchild, Bean.

Hubby and his parents on our wedding day

Hubby and his parents at his graduation

Give a Little Grace

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Mon, 23 Nov 2015 17:22:00 +0000

This morning as I waited at the school's doors waiting for them to open so that my daughter could enter I noticed a long line of cars in the parent loop. The idea is that the parents drop off their children and then move on allowing the cars behind them to pull up and do the same. This morning there was a car in the first slot in line and she was just idling. The cars behind her became impatient and started to honk. They couldn't get around her as there were large orange cones blocking their path and for good reason. If they weren't there the parents tend not to pay attention zoom around the car that is "too slow" and it's a recipe for disaster. However, as it was still early and the staff member that monitors the parent loop wasn't out yet. Impatient cars were honking and the cars were lining up. Looking out into the street you could see the long line of cars in either direction. Without the cars moving through the parent loop, other cars could not get in and well, it results in loooooong lines of cars, impatient parents, and antsy children.

My friend and I were watching the increasingly angry event and decided to give a hand. While my friend spoke to the parent, I moved the cones and started directing cars to move forward and around. Mind you, I was holding my one year old and I was praying that the frustrated parents wouldn't be in such a rush to move around the waiting car that they would zoom too quickly by and nick us. One parent was hesitant to move forward I asked if he had enough room to get by. He assured me he did, but I could see that he was debating about whether or not to approach the parent. I wished him a Happy Monday and encouraged him to keep moving. One parent pulled up to me and told me that the waiting car shouldn't be there and someone needed to tell her to move. My friend already had and I told him I was just a parent like him and not staff so "Have a happy Monday and move on."

Finally the assistant principal came out and spoke to the mother. Come to find out this was her first day of doing drop off and her little preschooler needed a one on one to escort him in. She looked and sounded frazzled, there was miscommunication, and she was getting increasingly upset as she waited for the staff member (who never came out) to assist her. It was all a miscommunication.

All I could think was, "Oh, that poor woman. She must be frazzled and slightly embarrassed and frustrated." She is dropping off her most precious heart to school and the long line of cars behind her were showing her their irritation and frustration. And I thought, "Folks, grant each other grace." How often do we move through the day irritated and frustrated with the person in front of us in line who is taking too long, the child who is moving too slowly because he wants to do "by himself!" the person crossing the crosswalk with 4 children and doing it slowly as the 4 year old wants to hop across instead of walking briskly...and the list could go on.

As we get ready for Thanksgiving and head into the Advent season where the stores will be crowded, the lines will be longer, and the sugared up children will be slightly more off as they are overstimulated by the lights and sounds that accompanies the Christmas season, remember to grant each other grace. Greet each other with a smile and friendly hello. Hold the doors open for each other, be patient with one another, and grant each other grace.

Peace be with you as we head into the preparation of celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior.

"Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ." 2 Corinthians 1:2 (NIV)

Mama's Heart Breaks Just a Little

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Fri, 20 Nov 2015 17:23:00 +0000

My sweet and goofy Boogie

We've been through some big transitions in the last year. Bean was born just a little over a year ago and while I was learning to navigate post-partum and mothering 4 children I had to learn to navigate the IEP (Individualized Educational Plan) process from the other side of the table. Being an educator, I knew the process, being a mother who has a child who may need an IEP is a whole different story. Since preschool I had had some concerns over my son's development. Things weren't clicking for him as I thought they should. More than once I was told that he's doing "just fine." But that didn't work for me. You see, I could tell that he was bright, but there was a disconnect. Even though he was reading and processing and comprehending above grade level texts, he was still doing letter reversals in his writing. His handwriting was horrible and he had a hell of a time with executive functioning and following multi-step directions. So in my 2nd month of pregnancy we started down the road of having him tested. More than once I was told that he could be on the spectrum. What spectrum you ask? The autism spectrum. And quite frankly the developmental pediatrician said that my sweet Boogie walks a fine line. He said if Aspberger's was still an independent diagnosis and not lumped under the very wide umbrella of autism, there would have been a chance he would have diagnosed Boogs as having Aspberger's. But now the diagnosis would be high functioning autism because of the way it's defined in the DSM. But at the time, the pediatrician didn't have enough data to make that diagnosis. He said that Boogie definitely has dysgraphia (difficulty with writing) and he is diagnosed with that. We will have to do further testing and evaluation if we want to determine definitely if Boogs is on the spectrum. Right now, we decided to wait.

I bring this up because this has been a tough year trying to understand my son a little more and trying to support and guide him a little more. Meeting his needs and giving him the tools and skills he needs to navigate life. Academically he's aces. Socially and emotionally he needs a lot more help. So we did the IEP process. We had him assessed through the school and from their point of view he came up with NOT being on the spectrum, but having a lot of difficulty with executive functioning. His writing disability came up. We also found out he's effing brilliant. I don't say that easily. I knew he was bright, but it came up over and over again, "Do you have any idea how intelligent your son is?" I nodded and said, "Well, I know he's bright." It wasn't until I had in my hand his results that I realized that my son is not typical. Not in any way. And as my husband says, "Why be normal?" He can't tie his shoes, but he can give you every single detail from every single book he has ever read. He can give you specific stats on just about every animal. His background knowledge blows me away and often I have to say, "I don't know the answer to that, let me look it up." But he can't follow more than one direction at a time. He can't put together legos. He can't see the forest for the trees. As a result of the testing and giant discrepancy between his cognitive abilities and his writing abilities Boogie was given an IEP. So that we're clear, they (being the school system) don't hand out IEP's like they're candy. They are actually hard to come by and the school systems have a lot of keeper of the keys and they are kind of stingy about handing those out. So imagine my shock when we didn't get a 504 plan, which is lot easier to receive, but an actual IEP. My son has goals, a case manager, accommodation, and support where he needs it most. Not only that, he was also tested as part of his application to attend a program for the highly gifted students. So Boogs is academically in the top 3% of 4th graders in the county. (I had no idea until someone else told me the stats). So now we have an IEP and now we are switching schools to meet my son's academic needs because as it was gently put to us, they can't meet his needs at his home school because his academic needs are above his peers. So we accepted his acceptance and now Boogs attends a school that is a 20 minute bus ride away.

I thought it would be easier. I thought that since he had an IEP he would get the support he needed while his learning was enriched. I LOVED his old school. I loved the teachers and the administration. I felt supported, I felt like they KNEW and UNDERSTOOD my child. And they did. They still ask about him when I go to pick up my daughter. But every school is different. My husband will tell you our home school is like a warm hug. It is welcoming. The new school is all business. No warm hug there. It's just very different. We struggled this first quarter to get this case manager to follow Boog's IEP. I was told over and over again, he doesn't need the support as outlined. Nonetheless, they need to follow the IEP until we review and deem it unnecessary. After a meeting and some strongly worded emails, we are getting a little more support. Not a lot, but more.

And then, my son missed his bus this week. Not once, but twice. He missed the bus coming home. Because of Boog's difficulty with executive functioning he has come to rely heavily on his peers. He observes routines and situations and sets into place things that will help him. When those variables change, he has difficulty going with the flow and putting in new support systems. So this week the teacher changed the seating in the classroom. End of the 1st quarter so everyone got new seats. No big deal, right? Well unbeknownst to her and to us Boogie has been relying on the two girls at his table to know when to leave for the bus. They never told him to get up, but he noticed when they left the table and he would just follow them to make it to his bus. Well now no one at his current table takes his bus. His cues are no longer there and as a result he missed it when his bus was called. TWICE this week. The second time he was just beside himself sobbing on the phone. I calmed him down and drove the 20 minutes to go pick him up. And here, this where my heart breaks just a little. So Boogie needs help. When Hubby and I asked him what he could do to ensure that he could make it on the bus he said he could ask his classmates/bus mates to tap him when they leave to catch their bus. Okay, so it's not taking full responsibility, it's still relying on others to help him. But it was a strategy. I found out last night that he asked a bunch of kids and most of them said, "no." They said "no." That's where my heart broke. They just said, "no." Some had after school clubs and wouldn't be taking the bus everyday. But others who don't just said, "no." "No, I won't help you." What? So my heart broke. And today while relaying the story to a friend I broke. I cried. The tears that had been threatening since last night spilled.

I realize I hate the new school. I hate the lack of support. I miss the warm hug and welcoming smile. It's so closed off and business like. So my heart breaks and I struggle with how to best help my son and support him. In my head I go back and forth about whether or not to pull him from school. For now, I won't. He belongs in that program. He needs that enrichment. He needs that higher level of learning. He needs that push. But he also needs compassion, support, and guidance. I will strive to give that to him from home. I will strive to teach him to be that kind of person who says, "Yes, I'll help you" when someone asks for help because, quite frankly, I don't want to raise an asshole. And boy it is hard to raise kids who are kind, caring, and compassionate. To some it comes quite easily, and to others, it's a skill that needs to be taught. So I pray that I will have the tools and skill to raise my children so that they are not assholes. Don't we all want that? So let's do it.

Bean at 6 months old

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Tue, 29 Sep 2015 22:10:00 +0000

Our Bean at 6 months

I don't know how it's possible that I haven't blogged in almost 6 months except, well I have four kids and one is a baby. We keep busy and I try to document as much as I can on my phone. Thank goodness for social media and that I can look back on pictures on my phone and share the experiences of the past 6 months.

I have to say that Bean has been a great baby and life is going really well. It doesn't stop, it doesn't slow down, and if anything it seems to go by faster with the more children we have. I attribute it to the big kids and all of their activities. The more they do, the less I'm home. But I will say that while I'm not blogging everything, I am experiencing it and really trying to be in the moment.

My brother and I with our little ladies.

Six months was a busy time for the Bean. She took her first plane ride and she and I went to visit her brand new cousin A., my brother's baby. It was the first time since college that I have traveled by myself. My husband and I have been together over 13 years and we usually travel together except when he travels for work. I was really nervous about the plane flight and all the stuff I had to bring (stroller, carseat carrier, diaper bag, my carryon). I had so much help on the way to Omaha. There was a man traveling by himself and offered to help me load up the stroller onto the belt at security. He told me he has 3 kids and he was traveling alone this time on business and he knew all the ins and out of traveling with little ones. He flipped down the stroller like a pro and flipped it back up in the right position after it went through security. He made sure I had everything before he went on his way to his own gate. I noticed he was wearing a St. Michael's medal and I felt that God was giving me a helping hand on my journey. Bean and I had great seat mates and when it was time to leave the plane the gentlemen behind me not only helped me pull my stuff out of the overhead bin, but walked me off the plane and helped me load up the stroller. My brother met me outside and I was able to spend three days cuddling my niece, giving my brother a chance to sleep while I took care of night time feedings, buying some furniture to help them with all the extra clothes, and decorating A's wall with fun wall clings. I enjoyed spending time with my sweet niece and loving on her while I could.

Bean and her cousin A. meeting for the first time

My brother and I aren't very close and in a way I pushed my way into a trip to visit him. He wasn't ready for me to visit, but I desperately wanted to be of some help to him. I wish he would accept it more often, but he and I are very different people I think me being the older sibling makes him feel like he is being judged all the time. I wish he would see that my help was what it was...help. I remember the days of having a first baby and learning the ropes. He is my only sibling and I just wish we were closer. I spent the 6 months I knew of A's impending arrival extending the olive branch with regular and frequent phone calls to check up and to offer emotional support. My visit was the same. I'd like to say the regular phone calls and visit made us closer, but for whatever reason it didn't. We are back to status quo. Sigh. I continue to extend the olive branch, but I don't think it is being accepted. So I pray and I keep trying.

Six months was also marked by Bean's first Easter and celebrating the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior. As always we make it to my in-laws house for the annual Easter egg hunt. Next year I see her giving it a go. This year she was happy to observe.

If you look closely you can see her newly adorned ears.

We also had her ears pierced! This is a cultural custom. In the Philippines baby girls always have their ears pierced. I think mine were done at 3 weeks old. Here in the States they like for you to wait until you are 6 months old. I love my husband. He knew her 6 month birthday was coming up and said, "So when are we getting Beanie's ears pierced?" He was also the one to sit with her and hold her. My heart did stop for a second when the gun became stuck and they had to pull a little harder to remove it from the earring and the ear attached! Bean was a trooper and after a few tears and a nursing session, she recovered quickly and her ears are adorned with pretty gold balls.

At 6 months she continues to sleep in her co-sleeper and she sleeps well. She is sitting up in her Bumbo and had her first try of baby cereal. She is not a fan of any kind of baby food and would much prefer to eat what we eat. But the child needs some teeth first. In the meantime she is eating mushed bananas, mushed sweet potatoes, and anything else we can mush. She is a delight and I can't believe that she is well on her way to becoming a year old.

Happy Easter!

Bean and A. shared a crib while we visited my brother.
Bean just turned 5 months and A. just turned a month old.

Hanging out with the girls after a late night feeding.

After I decorated A's wall. Not too bad if I say so myself

A milestone is that Bean learned how to give kisses.
I LOVE her kisses.

Mr. Bananas and Bean hanging out together.
Mr. Bananas loves sharing the iPad with his sister.
He really can't get enough of her.

The Bean at 5 months Old

noreply@blogger.com (The Discombobulated Mommy) — Mon, 27 Apr 2015 15:33:00 +0000

The Bean turned 5 months old in March and it was pretty uneventful in a good way. She continues to laugh, grow, smile, and loved by everyone. Her big blue eyes take in everything and she ~~loves~~ adores her older siblings. She is the one thing that they can all agree on. They all love her and want to be with her. It's like she has always belonged and we were just waiting for her to show up in our family. I can't imagine our family without her.

She likes being in her carseat and running errands with me. I know that she is exhausted and should nap, but it's like she wants to take everything in and it's just too good to miss. So my curious girl stays awake, coos, and smiles. I try to go to the gym when I can and go on the days that my aunt works. Bean spends most of that time happily in my aunt's arms. She likes the walk to school and the walk home. She loves hanging out with us. She is starting to sit up more and more and likes when the big kids talk and play with her. Mr. Bananas has discovered that he can recall the words to books and will sit and read to her. He is so good about sharing his books with her. Most times when he's playing on the iPad he'll sit with her and angle the screen towards her so that she isn't left out. She just loves being next to him and spending time with him. I see another friendship in the making. I thought by now that he would grow tired and move on, but no. He proudly proclaims to all that she is HIS baby.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you See?

Buggy is a fantastic helper and will sit with The Bean while I make dinner, help Boogie with his homework, or take a quick shower. She anticipates her needs pretty easily and helps with wiping her nose, changing her diapers, or sitting and chatting with her.

Boogie wants to hold her, but is nervous about dropping her or jostling her too much. So he admires her from afar. Boogie can be sensitive to noise and I thought for sure that he would complain about her squeals and cries, but no. He is able to block it out when he needs to...I just wish he would do the same with his younger brother.

Celebrating with the Epitos at their
50th Wedding Anniversary Celebration

Life is good. Some days are harder than others. Some are easier. I forgot how tiring it can be to have an infant in the house. I think our biggest challenge these days is getting on a good napping schedule. I didn't really care in the past because 3 other kids were fairly good nappers and could nap anywhere. But not our Bean. Comfort is everything and right now she would rather nap on me. Second best is in the cosleeper next to our bed. I've tried transitioning her to her crib for nap time while keeping her in the cosleeper at night. Nothing doing. She isn't buying it. So I'm going to appreciate the sweet quiet moments, read a lot of books while the baby naps on me, and try really, really hard to let everything else go. The one good thing is that I've been pretty good at saying no to volunteer activities and not feeling terribly guilty about it. It's hard for me, but I feel like time continues to slip by and my days of the baby napping on me are numbered. So if you're looking for me, I'll be on the couch, cuddling a baby, and reading a good book.

Sporting a beautiful hat

Love this sweetness

I actually managed to get all 4 kids in green for St. Patrick's Day.
It will probably never happen again.