Ramblings on Frustration

I'm tired. This isn't a surprise to anyone who knows me, but it's frustrating to me nonetheless. I get particularly frustrated with myself because I say I'm tired, and then stay up to watch fluff on the 10 o'clock news. Yes, I know for many of you, 10 is early, but when I really need to be functioning by 6:30 or so the next morning, it's late. And yet.....

Of course, I have reasons to be tired. Last week was completely crazy and I demanded a high price from my poor body.

Wednesday: 9-1 Work at Dream Dinners. Run errands all afternoon, back to work at 5 until midnight.
Thursday: Taught 1st grade. Kids that age are adorable and totally exhausting. Set up at the Expo from 4:30 to 8:30. Home to finish up some final prep for that.
Friday: Expo from 8 am to midnight. Yes, that's 16 hours.
Saturday: Expo from 8 am to 8 pm, including take down.
Sunday was church and a nap in the afternoon, but then I had Expo stuff to sort out so I worked some on that as well.

I'm frustrated over Expo.
I'm frustrated that the kids' rooms aren't finished.
I'm frustrated that I haven't cleaned out much of the rest of the house.
I'm frustrated that I made mistakes at work, causing me to be removed from that particular task. I'm relieved to not have that added responsibility, and then frustrated because I'm relieved. I could use the hours to pay off the CC bill from the inventory I purchased for Expo.
I'm frustrated that I struggle to get dinner made each night. Last week we had eggs 3 different nights. That just screams "YOU'RE A TERRIBLE MOTHER!!!"
I'm frustrated with the word "budget." That's become a new 4-letter word in my mind.
I'm frustrated that I don't have time to read or create.

This week is Spring Break, so you'd think it'd carry a lighter load. And yet.

We're mucking out the kids' rooms this week. On Friday the girls got a really good start on theirs, with Bruce's help. I was really proud of them because it was their own idea and mostly their own efforts. Tristan has been working on his as well, though right now, it looks like a bomb went off. He's got his bookcase cleaned out as well as his closet, and has removed 4 bags of trash/recycling. The boy has no sentimental attachment to anything, though, as he was ready to get rid of ALL of his school projects from years' past. I salvaged a small stack and I know he'll thank me down the road....or his wife and children will!

We're in the midst of fundraising season, raising money for bell tour, Scouts, and the youth mission trip. I've written before about my frustration with the youth leader and her "youth is the only thing that matters" attitude, so I won't expand on that too much except to say that it's adding to my frustration.

I'm feeling a great deal of pressure myself to get the rest of the house cleaned out. I'd hoped to do the bedding switchover this week, but the weather, so far hasn't cooperated (I like to dry the bedding outside as the sun is a natural germ-killer/bleaching agent). Today is beautiful, but I've decided that chore needs to wait just a bit longer and I'll be okay with it.

I was also hoping to do the clothing switch-over too. But again, the weather is so fickle right now that it seems prudent to wait a few more weeks.

So, I'm frustrated about that, and relieved at the same time because it's one less thing I *have* to do this week. And then I feel guilty for being relieved.

I need to follow up on leads from the Scrapbook Expo, finish unpacking my stuff from that adventure, etc. One of the 6 consultants involved in that has been driving me crazy too. She treats me like I don't know what I'm doing, scolding me like a child, nagging, and so forth. Makes me completely insane! I haven't worked this particular venue before, but I have done trade shows and I've worked in customer service-type jobs for YEARS. I know what I'm doing. Further, she's the culprit in many of the problems, NOT ME, so it's very hard to listen to her tell me what to do when she's ignoring her own "wisdom." Clean your own house, lady, before you start white-gloving mine!

So, in the next few days, I need to:
Help the kids finish up their rooms
Get a hair cut
Go to the library
Get new shoes for myself and Tristan
Tristan's passport photos
Tristan to passport office (as a minor, it requires both parents to physically show up at the office to get him a passport, which he needs before getting on a plane for bell tour this summer..photo ID required and it seemed better to do a passport than a state ID).
Make contact with all the leads from Expo (there's 40-50)
Sort and inventory my submissions for the consignment sale. Hanging and tagging would be a bonus.

Looking further ahead:
Alana's birthday and birthday party
Consignment sale
National Scrapbook Day

Then I look around and see other people and start comparing myself to them. I have two friends who have very large families. They (seem to) keep their homes clean, do the laundry, cook meals for their brood and the entire community, make their beds everyday, can their own salsa, raise chickens, AND find time to be creative, all on a shoe-string budget. And they HOMESCHOOL to boot! Why can't I? *sigh* And then I'm frustrated with myself for the comparisons. I know these wonderful ladies have their own struggles and challenges, as I know them well and am blessed to be allowed to peak into their hearts and souls during the trying times too. So who am I to complain? And the vicious guilt cycle starts up again.

And yet, it seems that they THRIVE on just a few hours of sleep each night. Exhaustion doesn't seem to get in the way of their lives. But again, how do I know that? Maybe they just don't complain as much as I do? And then I have guilt.

AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

I wish that made me feel better.

Okay, so it does, if only a little bit. :-)

Why can't I cut myself a break? Why am I so very demanding of myself? How do I motivate myself to be the best Erica I can be without the damaging effects from guilt and perfectionism? Why do I do this to myself? And, more importantly, how do I stop?

Just in time.....

A friend posted this on one of my chat lists and it's perfect timing.

40 Bags in 40 Days

Bag Count: 27

So, here's the start of my list of areas to cover:

1. Main floor bathroom
2. Kitchen Pantry
3. Kitchen Junk drawer
4. China Hutch
5. Music Room
6. Coat Closet
7. Kid's Bathroom (heaven help me!) It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, and the older kids helped a bit which made it easier.
8. Master Closet
9. Jewelry Box (I bought a new one that's larger and I just need to move into it). Turns out the new jewelry box doesn't hold as much as it looks like it would, so I still have at least 2, but I've gone through my jewlry, so that counts!
10. Dresser
11-12 Alana's Room (2 days, or one full day)
13-14. Shannon's Room (again, 2 partial or one full day)
15-16. Tristan's Room (yet once more, 2 partial or one full day)
17. Master Bathroom, particularly the catch-all ledge
18. Picnic Closet
19. Toy Closet
20. Store Room--Food area
21. Store Room--The rest of it
22-23-24? My craft room. That's got to be ready for a potential long-term house guest come June and it needs a LOT of cleaning out.
25. White computer cupboard
26. DVD/Book/Computer Game shelves
27. Kids' Art Shelf and Game cubbies Yippee! Lots of things found their righful home, and lots of stuff tossed or recycled. This wasn't on the "list" for today, but Bruce got started on it, and once he does that, there's no holding back. Of course, I still wonder why there was a sweatshirt shoved in next to the coloring books, or why the dress-up clothes wound up crammed inside the Little People House, but whatever.
28. Laundry Room
29-31 Garage (This one is Bruce's problem)
32-33 Shed (Again, mostly on Bruce)
34. Computer Files....technically not something that will result in actual "bags" of "trash," but there will be lots of things to be sorted, organized, and ultimately recycled. I need to move files, especially photos and scrapbooking projects on to my external hard drive, but I'm not sure how to do it in a way that my program will be able to find them again. Cleaned up some of my "Favorites" today. 3/26 Moved my photos and scrapbook projects to my external and then deleted from my hard drive. My computer is MUCH happier!
34. Master Bedroom Bookshelves

Update 3/22: Today I cleaned out the "lost sock basket" that was about 1/2 full of mismatched, lonely socks. Some of them found their life partners again and will happily join their sock friends in the sock drawers. Others found their mates and will be going off to make new friends in someone else's sock drawer. And, yes, I kept some because I haven't finished all the laundry, nor have I even begun to see what's waiting under the kids' beds. But a pile of them went out to the trash. Of course, by throwing them away, I've now just about guaranteed that I'll find some mates this week or next, but really, who cares? It's a pair of socks. We have plenty of socks, and if we didn't, well, we'd be able to buy more, thankfully.

Update 3/29: Over the weekend, while I was at the Scrapbook Expo, Bruce and the girls got started on their rooms. There's lots of work left to do, but the girls did a great job and I'm so proud of them for taking the reigns

It's barely 8 am

and I've already managed to embarass myself senseless.

Anyone who knows me, or even knows the tiniest thing about me, knows that I don't do mornings. Now, because the rest of the world seems to think that 7:00 am is a perfectly reasonable time to do things, I've had to adapt. But I don't like it, and I stretch out my sleep as much as possible (read "punch the snooze alarm several times and race out the door at the last minute"). Once upon a time, I actually got up and got ready for my day BEFORE I took the Jr. High kids at 7:20. Then I came back to myself. Now, I roll out of bed around 7:19, throw on some pajama pants, a sweatshirt, and slippers, and off we go.

(Yes, I've heard all the advice that I should get up early, get a better start to my day so I'm not running around like a crazy person, blah, blah, blah. People who say that are morning people so, of course, that makes perfect sense in their warped morning-people brains. The sane among us, the night owls, know better).

In spite of all of that, I pride myself on never going out in public without being dressed. I don't go anywhere in public in my pajama pants. Ever. I don't go out in public without at least a little make up on, and I'm usually dressed in something more than just a t-shirt or sweatshirt. It's just one of my "things."

The van needs to have it's inspections done so we can get new registration stickers for it. We opted to do that today. Bruce stayed home from work this morning to take the kids to school and then take me to the mechanic. Well, as we left to take the Jr. High kids, I thought I was supposed to go to the mechanic and he'd meet me there after taking the kids. I also thought it'd be a quick trip, so I wasn't dressed.

I drove over to the mechanic and the gate was closed. I pulled over and waited. When Bruce got there, I asked him what time they opened. 8:00 am. So what the heck am I doing here at 7:35?! Um, well, it seems we had a bit of a communication issue. He assumed that I knew they didn't open until 8:00, so when he saw me pull out of the driveway, he thought I was okay to wait or something. Who knows what goes through his head? Instead of calling me to ask me what I was doing, he assumed he knew. I assumed that he needed to get to work ASAP, so I was trying to get this all taken care of as quickly as possible.

So we're sitting on the side of the road, waiting for the place to open. But really, this is ridiculous. Alana didn't have her coat or her backpack, and I have things to do today, darn it. And really, had I known that I didn't have to be there until 8, there's a good possibility I'd have still been in bed! We decided I'd take the Pilot home and get Alana's things, then meet back at the mechanic. I get out of the van with Alana and then, because cars are coming, I can't just hop into the Pilot.

That's right. I wound up standing in the street, next to the Pilot, waiting for all these cars to pass so it's safe to open the door......IN MY PAJAMA PANTS AND SLIPPERS! The last car to pass me? A police car. Mortifying, I tell ya.

Alana and I came home, and I put on some real clothes. Or at least real pants and shoes.

On the upside, I've already started laundry.

Is anybody out there?

Really? Is anybody reading?

Over the weekend, I was reading back through my blogs. I used to be pretty funny at times! LOL! I guess I've gone into hiding a bit, for a number of reasons, feeling like I can't share my whole self. There are reasons for this, but most of them are silly, so I need to stop.

The other thing I noticed was that I used to have comments on my blog all the time. Now I don't. Makes me wonder if anyone is reading anymore.......

Feeling Beautiful

I recently read a book that I really enjoyed. It's not a literary masterpiece, but it was a fun, entertaining read. The book? Twenties Girl by Sophia Kinsella. The author is more well-known for her Shopaholic series, I guess, but I'd never heard of her until this book came up for my book club.

The main charactor in the book is a young woman who's great-aunt has recently died. This young lady's life is in a bit of a mess, in large part because she's not being true to herself, nor is she trusting her instincts. Actually, she's got her head buried in the sand and has no idea that her instincts are even there!

But really, that's not the point of this post. In the book, the great-aunt's ghost haunts her because Sophie (the aunt) needs her necklace back. She doesn't know why she needs it, just that she can't rest until she's got it back. When the niece asks what's so special about the blasted necklace, all Sophie can say is "I felt beautiful when I wore it."

That got me thinking. Do I have something that makes me feel beautiful when I wear it? That seems a bit shallow, but really, I'm a girl, and girls like to feel beautiful. And feeling beautiful makes me feel more confident, energized, and happier. I think that's true for most of us female types.

The necklace in the book wasn't anything special, really. It had pretty beads and a lovely pendant hanging from it. I don't recall if it was real stones or just glass beads. And that's part of the point. Whatever makes you feel beautiful is the point. It doesn't have to be expensive or fancy. It just have to have some meaning for you. So, I challenged myself and my book club to find that special *something* that makes you feel pretty; that something that is "you;" that special thing that becomes part of your signature.

The power of a mother's love

It started this morning, with this song by Amy Grant, that a friend sang in church.

"God loves a lullaby
in a mother's tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes......

"We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody.....
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts......
Are better than a Hallelujah"

That first line took me back to that dreadful time just over two years ago, when my baby was in the hospital, unconcious, with an insulin drip, IV fluids, and a blood sugar over 1100. There was nothing I could do for my son. Nothing I could say to make it better. The doctors and nurses taking care of him in the ICU.....the tubes....the confusion and pain for all of us.

So I did what any broken-hearted mother does.

I sang.

I sang lullabies from his childhood; songs I'd sung to him all those nights long ago when he was a baby, his tiny head resting on my chest as I snatched song after song out of my memory and sang to him until he fell asleep.

As I sang to my now 12 year-old "baby," looking so frail and vunerable in that hospital bed, my tears flowed. I tried to stop them, at first, wiping them away, wanting to be strong for my son. But soon, I gave up trying to hold back the flood. I was terrified, hurting, scared, anxious, worried. My tears released all of that, in silent prayers for understanding, for knowledge of how to help my child, for protection in the future.

And I sang.

I sang songs from church, popular Christian songs, and country songs. Toby Keith and Tim McGraw, Lonestar and Amy Grant and Micheal W. Smith and Twila Paris, snatches of hymns and songs from camp.

And Tristan, in spite of how very sick he was, heard me. He knew I was there and he found comfort in my voice.

When we came home from the hospital several days later and went to bed that night, we snuggled up and talked. He was worried about how to handle his condition at school. What would his teachers think? Would he be able to eat whenever he needed to? Where would he check his blood sugar? The enormity of all of this was starting to sink in. Tristan was scared and he was angry at the unfairness of it all. He cried, and so did I, and we talked it all out.

But he still couldn't sleep.

So, again, I sang.

This time, he had requests.

I sang Lonestar's "Amazed" and "Already There.' I sang "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," and "Pass It On."

And my voice brought him comfort and peace. Neither of us knew where this startling new path was taking us, but Tristan knew, without a doubt, that we would walk it together. The power of a mother's love.

He fell asleep listening to my love through the songs I was singing.

I find myself in awe of the power of a mother's love. A mother's love is fierce and protective. It is sacrificing and generous. It truly knows no bounds. I knew all of that, but somehow today, I realized just how amazingly powerful that love is in the life of a child.

I couldn't make him better, though I would've taken the diabetes on myself to spare him. In a heartbeat. I couldn't take it away from Tristan, but I could comfort him.

My voice; my songs let him know that I was there and sometimes that's all that matters. Being there. Being present and the child knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that mom is unfailingly, annoyingly, lovingly, there.

Of course, I can't speak to a father's love, though I would imagine it's similar. See, it was Bruce who spent the night in a recliner next to Tristan's bed in ICU. Bruce who was there when Tristan regained consciousness. And it was Bruce who told him where he was and what all the tubes were. Again, the gentle reassuring love of a parent guiding our young man back into his new and different life.

Looking forward to Lent

This year I didn't really get around to New Year's resolutions. I've got a list as long as my arm of things I'd like to improve, and I'm working more on monthly goals, but there has been a conspicuous absence of resolutions as such.

Enter Lent. I'm actually EXCITED about Lent this year! It's like I've finally caught up to the new year and am working on goals and resolutions. Or maybe I'm reframing my "year" into a religious context? From a theological/church standpoint, I've still got it wrong since the liturgical year begins with Advent (before Christmas), but I think it's still okay. God welcomes our awakenings whenever they happen, and I feel like I'm on the cusp of mine.

Since my post about how busy life always is, I've pretty much stopped complaining about how busy things are. Life is good; really good, with jobs for everyone, worthwhile activities for all of us, and friends and family who care.

Back to Lent.......As many of you know, I give up things for Lent. It's a tradition that goes back centuries, when folks gave up something to commemorate the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert, being tempted by the devil, in preparation for Easter, which truly is the point of Chrisitianity. The older I get, the more seriously I take Lent. And it seems my children are getting the idea too. Last year, Tristan gave up soda. This year Alana is talking about giving up something (I suggested whining, but that only made her whine). Shannon, jokester that she is, has already decided to give up gluten! Which takes me on another tangent.....a friend of Shannon's at church is going gluten-free for Lent. She said, "If Shannon has to do this all the time, I can do it for 6 weeks!" The young lady is 12. Yeah....WOW!

See? Lent can be a powerful thing. And I'm hoping it'll be powerful in my life too. I need a jolt or 12. I'm giving up my usual soda and junk food, to be replaced by iced tea and crunchy healthy stuff like nuts or veggies. I haven't decided if popcorn is junk food or not. I suppose it depends on just what's on the popcorn.

I'm also giving up computer games. I added this one a few years ago, but found myself cheating out of habit. I'd simply click over the the game and be playing before I knew it. It was automatic, habitual, and completely brainless. All of the things I'm trying to reprogram. In place of computer games, I'm cleaning out closets, cupboards, and kids' rooms. And reading. Reading the Bible, reading for pleasure, reading for inspiration. And crafting. I think I spend waaaay more time playing games than I realize, and I'm hoping that this 40 days will be the reboot I need to break habits and move on into the life I *really* want.