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Easton, birth 007, originally uploaded by soukii.

Easton and Mommy were released from the hospital on Monday. We got home at 2:30 in the afternoon.

Why are hospitals so against sleep? They wouldn’t let me turn the lights off (“You can’t see if the baby turns blue!?” Um, I can’t see if the baby turns blue if I’m asleep either?) And they were coming in at least every hour and a half to check on or do something to one of us at a time. They NEVER did something to both of us in one visit. (“Ok, here are your meds. I’ll be back in an hour to check the baby’s vitals.” WTF?!?!)

So, needless to say we are happy to be home. However, things haven’t improved much in the sleep department.

 

Adoption Update

Well, after all the early drama of being contacted by my birthmom, things have settled down quite nicely. It is important to note, the drama was all mine and completely self-imposed and created.

I have really enjoyed getting to know “Kathy.” I’m glad it happened the way it happened. The only thing I would have changed would have been the way I told my mom (adopted mom). Telling her is what contributed to the extra stress and drama I experienced. I don’t think I could have kept it a secret from her for very long, and I don’t know that anything would have made it better for her (which in turn would have made it easier for me), but I shouldn’t have told her I was contacted by Kathy until much later, when I knew how I felt about it. But that is in the past now and I still have to balance how much to tell my mom. (Trust me, I lean towards telling her nothing most of the time.)

Anyways, Kathy is an amazingly interesting woman whom I am glad to be related to. I don’t feel an intense, biological ”connection” to her, but there has been something very nice about knowing someone biologically related to me. We talk about once each week on the phone and will email a couple times per week. I feel like we are developing a nice friendship. She knows I am not looking for a new mother.

I think it is fairly safe to say that she definitely feels more of a connection to me and she has been amazing about not being pushy. She is definitely letting me set the pace of our relationship. As a mother myself, I completely understand where she is coming from and respect her immensely for being patient and waiting until things calm down for me. I mean, who could have predicted that when she chose to find me it would be during such an incredibly crazy time in my life: moving, baby, lifestyle, etc?? No one. But it is what it is and we are working around it.

We are setting up a date to meet in person sometime in May. She is going to come down here for a visit. I am looking forward to meeting her, but not to the balancing act I will have to negotiate with my mom. I am trying to take the same approach with my mom about everything Kathy-related: IT IS NOT ABOUT HER (a-mom), IT IS ABOUT ME AND KATHY. Although my mom feels very threatened and nervous about the whole thing, that is just her really wishing she could control the situation or erase the situation completely- which she can do neither. All I can do is be matter-of-fact about things and only share with her things I want to share. Although, my mom better realize soon that the more she tries to find fault with Kathy and the things I tell her about Kathy, the less I will share with her. So it will come down to what is the stronger desire for my mom: her need to know some of what Kathy tells me OR her need to make herself feel better by putting Kathy down. Hmmm. I don’t think my mom would like those two choices. But again, I am in the driver’s seat here.

So, that is the update for now.

 

Adoption Issues

Hmmm. I never thought I’d be writing this post. I never thought I’d be having to make these decisions. I really wish it wasn’t happening right at this moment.

Today I was contacted by a person hired by my birthmom to find me. (BTW: have I mentioned I’m adopted? since birth. private adoption. CLOSED adoption.)

I was so shocked by this– I still am– I don’t quite know what to think about it all.

My initial reaction is: WHY NOW? Why after 33 and a half years does she want to initiate contact. What does she want from me? What does getting to know me after all these years do for her, now?

This is such a bad time for me. The depression, the move and this pregnancy do not have me in the most “stable” place right now, emotionally speaking. Gosh, a year ago, even 2 or more years ago, I would have been excited and honored that she still thought about me– I would probably have gone so far as to say “flattered” that I was not something completely erased from her past. But now? Again, I have to ask: WHY NOW?

Am I curious? Of course I am.

Have I thought of finding her?  More than once.

But this is real. She’s out there and wants to reach out to me. She has paid someone money to find me. She’s serious. My curiosity never took me that far. My curiosity never got that serious because several things got  in the way: my own fear and fear of/for my mother.

For myself, I was fearful of rejection. She gave me away once, how hard would it be for her to dismiss me again? Except this time it would hurt. Being rejected as an adult would make me question myself, my life and my very being. I couldn’t open myself up to that.

The fear of/for my mother is a little more complicated. I’m, of course, talking about the only mother I’ve ever had, the mother who fed me, clothed me, loved me, protected me, and raised me: my adopting mother. My mom and I have our own issues, but at the core is love. I’ve always known that my searching for my biological mother would be interpreted by her as me rejecting her. I could never hurt her like that. There have been many times when she’s said she’ll support me, if that what I want to do, but the look in her eyes was always clearly, “I hope you don’t need it. I hope I haven’t failed you. I hope I’m enough of a mother for you.”

Now, as a mother myself, I can’t argue with those feelings. What mother would ever want their child to seek out something that they could never give them? As a mother, you hope and pray with all of your being that you are “enough” for your child. You may not be perfect, but there is comfort in knowing you are doing the best you can for your child and giving them exactly what they want and need. But for an adopting mother, I have to imagine there is an extra amount of doubt. A doubt in wondering if you really deserve this child and are doing right by her. At least, that is what I imagine my own mother, a notorious self-doubter to begin with, imagining.

If I seek out a relationship– even in the most non-threatening way possible– I will have to live with the guilt that I am hurting my mother.

I know that I am an adult and have a “right” to see this thing through to satisfy my own basic curiosity and needs. But what is the cost to me? What do I stand to lose?

What if she is a crazy person? With my own mental health issues it is completely possible that she is unstable. It is possible that she is not well-adjusted and is doing this on a whim with no thought to the repercussions to herself or myself. And unfortunately, I think the only way to discover that will be through hind-sight.

Things won’t ever be the same. Learning information, even information that I have wanted to know for years, can’t be unlearned. The good, the bad, or the ugly information can’t be erased once heard by my ears. Stuff that is part of my family history, medical and personal, will finally become known to me. There has been comfort in not knowing my past. I didn’t know it until I faced not ever having the comfort of that ignorance again. 

The woman who was hired to find me is a  birthmother herself, so of course she had very positive things to say about me at least talking to my birthmother. Not to mention the fact, that she was paid to find me. I don’t trust that she has my best interest at heart. She is a professional, I guess that is what someone who has facilitated reunions on more than one occasion can be called. When I told her I didn’t think I was ready for this right now, she let me know, in a very nice way, that there could be repercussions to any future relationship I may or may not have with this woman if I take that stance. She asked me to sleep on it tonight and then she will call me tomorrow to go over what could be the possible consequences of waiting a few days, weeks, months or even years– whatever that means. It felt a little pushy to me, after the fact.

I told her I was concerned about how my mother would feel. (Interesting aside: I didn’t even think that my dad would be affected by my decision either way. Not that he doesn’t care, but this is not something he could ever get worked up over.) She told me that 50% of adopting parents are against any type of reunion and 50% support it to some degree. She said it would be hard for me to know which way my parents would go (HA! She didn’t even ask if I had an idea of how my mom would go, probably because as a birthmom she automatically discounts adopting parents feelings.) But she did say that “most” come around to accept whatever decision the adoptee makes. But hello? What other choice do they have? I am not fearful of my mom “disowning me,” I am trying to protect her feelings as my mother.

She did give me some information. She told me her first name. She told me she lives in Washington State.  She told me she never had any other children. She told me that my birthmom recently had contact with my birthfather and that she doesn’t think badly of him. (I guess that is not typical, which is why she told me.)

But it is this last piece of information that unsettled me the most. Where is this woman at in her life that she has had contact with a former lover, whom she had a child with and is now seeking out said child? What is going on with her life? What does she want from him and from me? Why wait 33 years? Why do it before the holidays? WHY NOW?

<sigh> The sad, unmistakable fact is this: If I want that question and more answered, the only way to do it is to go ahead and have contact with her. However, I am aware that once I ring that bell, it cannot be un-rung.

 

Parenting Blind

One of the things about parenting that I’ve heard over and over again is that there is no “How To” manual. Man, I have never needed one as badly as I needed one this week.

Our kids (8 and 5, girl and boy respectively) play with the neighbor kids (11  and 7, boy and girl respectively).  My kids LOVE playing with them. They ride bikes and scooters and play tag and catch and imaginary things like “bike car wash.” Anytime the neighbor kids ring our door bell my kids will drop everything to go outside. Since I haven’t been feeling well since we moved here, the supervision has fallen to Scott. He usually hangs out outside while they are playing. He’ll either do something around the yard or just pull up a chair in the garage and watch them. But he is outside while they are outside at least 85% of the time. The neighbor kids’ parents? Yeah, we’ve seen them maybe 3 times. They never are outside. They never come over to check on them, since 90% of the play time is outside our house or in our garage. Have I thought this weird? Yes, but they let their kids have more independence than we let ours– example: the 11 year old walks his sister to school daily and then returns home and rides his bike to his school (he’s in 6th grade, middle school). Then the 7 year old walks home by herself. I walk with or drive my kids to and from school daily. We probably won’t let them walk themselves until 7th grade– if that. Overprotective? I guess. But just last week a girl from the local middle school got hit by a car when crossing the street against the light. Kids just don’t have the best judgement. It is something that comes with age, maturity and supervision.

Enough background.

Sunday afternoon all 4 kids were playing outside our house and in our garage. Scott was in and out because I needed help moving some furniture. Nothing unusual.

That night Macy is crying that the 11 year old said something to her that she couldn’t say aloud to us because it made her embarrassed. She wrote it down.

“XYZ told me we should do s*x.”

So upon further questioning it turns out the boy told Macy they should “do s*x” because Macy said she had a crush on him. He then went on to say something about how they could find a quiet, dark place where no one would catch them. They were in our garage with the other 2 kids. Macy doesn’t know if the boy’s sister heard. We asked Owen if he heard anything, but he’s a pretty self-absorbed 5 year old, and if it wasn’t said TO HIM, it might as well not been said around him.

So, Macy is upset and worried that she’s not going to get to play with the kids anymore, especially the sister, with whom she has become good friends. She feels badly that she told on the boy, but knew she had to because it made her “feel weird” when he said it to her. We of course praised her for coming to us.

But now what? Scott wants to rip this kid’s head off. I take a more calm approach. It is now almost 10 pm and too late to go talk to his parents on Sunday. We decide that we’ll go over on Monday night. But what will we say? What do we want? What will be best for our daughter? What will the boy’s parents say? Will they believe Macy? Will they defend their son? Will they deny it as not possible? Will they agree with us? Where is the darn “How To Manual”?

The few things we know about the boy are from what we observe when the kids play. He is immature for his age. We have never seen him with any boys his age. He is not very coordinated when it comes to playing sports. He really seems to enjoy himself when playing with the younger kids, not just “acting” like he is having fun to not be bored. He has never, that we have witnessed, been bossy or mean to the younger kids. He plays as if he is their age.

So Scott and I decide that we will talk to his parents and tell them what Macy said. Tell them that we are going to more closely monitor them when they are at our house. Continue to NOT let the kids go into each other’s houses or backyards. And ask that they make sure the boy understands that certain topics are not appropriate to be discussed with the younger kids.

We also decide that I will do the talking, since Scott doesn’t want to lose it. I HATE that I have to talk because I avoid confrontation at all costs. So I ask that Scott not interrupt me or contradict me when I am talking.

We go over there around 7pm. There is only 1 car in the drive way. The door to the house is open, but they have a mesh security screen door that is closed. I can’t see in the house or the dad when he answers the door. I tell him that I wanted to let him know about something that happened yesterday afternoon. He says OK and then doesn’t move to open the door or anything. I can’t see him or his facial expressions. I don’t want to have this conversation in the blind. After an awkward silence where he is waiting for me to begin, I lamely say, “I can’t see you through the screen.” He says something about his dogs and slowly comes outside. I go to start and then realize this is the first time I’ve met him. So I stop, reach out my hand and say, “By the way, I’m Nicole.” He tells me his name and shakes my hand.

So I tell him the story, after being interrupted by Owen coming across the street and by Macy calling my cell phone to tattle that Owen was coming over.

The dad looks surprised, but not shocked. He gives me very little reaction. Actually, I could have just talked to the screen door and got the same reaction. The only thing he says is that “the boys in middle school are always talking about s*x in the PE locker room.”  He then says that his son knows he shouldn’t talk about it with younger kids. Then he says very little more.

Scott says (after the fact) that I sugar-coated it and made excuses for the boy and he (the dad) didn’t get to understand the full-impact of what happened. I think it is possible that I tried to make it sound a way that would be nicer for a parent to hear about their child. My goal was to not be accusing and judging, just stating the facts of what happened and what we were going to do from our end. Have I mentioned how much I HATE confrontation? I did the best I could. The facts were put out there in as nice a way as possible. The dad gave no reaction except for slightly surprised. He then kind of shrugged, and said ”Thanks, I guess.” He went inside.

Scott is disappointed in my telling of the facts, but I did the best I could for my comfort level. I didn’t mean to sugar-coat it or make excuses for the boy, but deep down I really just hope it was him trying to be funny and not getting the magnitude of what he was saying because of his immaturity. Because if that is not the case, then I have no choice but to consider him a predator to my children and treat him as such.

Macy saw the sister at school the next day and she said that she was standing by the door and heard the whole thing (I couldn’t see her through the screen). She said that her brother didn’t get in trouble. However, no one came over to play last night.

How do I want the situation resolved? Hmmm. I guess I want the parents to not let the boy play with my kids anymore. I want it to come from them, not us, because I should not be punishing my kids for something their son said. If he were my son I wouldn’t allow him to play with the girl anymore for both of their protection. However, if he comes over again to play, I am prepared to ask him to leave, even if that means that my kids are mad at me and that Macy and the sister can’t be friends anymore. Man, this Being- The-Parent-Thing can SUCK!

 

When Bad Things Happen to Good People

We just found out Scott does not have a position at his school next year. I am devastated. Scott is a rock. God, he is amazing.

It is really complete crap. They are splitting his current school into 2 schools next year. However, he assumed his job was safe because he is beloved by teachers, students and parents. That means crap in his district. They are losing one assistant principal position in this transition. They have three APs now because the school is so large and split over 2 campuses. Each middle school next year will only have one AP. Scott’s the odd man out. They gave some pretty weak examples of not being happy with his “performance” in the past year and a half, but these are things that were never brought up at the time. I believe it is truly a case of taking care of their own, and Scott wasn’t here long enough to become one of them. He has no job security.

They said they would help him find a new job, but that means nothing when the district has no openings. They promised they would “speak to his strengths” if called upon as references– we’ll have to wait and see.

I’m just reeling. There isn’t a word strong enough to express how upset I am.

I just don’t see how this can happen after all the sacrifices we’ve made to make a life for ourselves here in Colorado. I keep wondering if this is a sign that we made the wrong choice. Then again, I don’t know if I believe in signs. I’m scared and worried. I’m upset and angry.

Scott is amazing. He’s calm and collected and making a plan of action. He’s not taking it personally. I know he is hurting inside, but he won’t show me right now until he knows I am OK. This is one of the many reasons why I love him. I know I need to be better so he can express his feelings, but I just can’t stop crying. I want to be better so I can be there for him. I will be better so I can be there for him.

If you know me personally, please don’t call or email me right now. I just can’t talk about it. Feel free to comment on this site, I will definitely appreciate that.

 

Post-trip Procrastination

Eleven days and I am back home. I love home, well, I will when I get through the 10+ loads of laundry, find places for all the kids’ new crap Christmas toys, tackle my 100+ “projects list,” pay the bills, make my weekly menu, go to the grocery store, get my car washed, train the puppy, change the sheets and…. um… DO I EVER REALLY LOVE HOME?? Yes, I do, especially after eleven days away. Eleven fun-yet-stressful days away at my parents’ house.

However, today I sort of went into a post-travel, too much to do, pre-tonsil biopsy “slump.” Aside from spending money at Target (ah, retail therapy), I didn’tcouldn’t do a thing until 9:30pm. Unless you count yelling at the kids, yelling at Scott, and my online reading of HORRIBLE accounts of tonsil cancer. (I have a biopsy of my tonsil tomorrow for a “suspicious” growth on my right tonsil. I thought I was OK about it, but it has been growing on my mind and for some strange reason I thought I would feel better after googling “tonsil biopsy.” Yeah right, no such luck.)

So I spent the WHOLE day NOT doing any of the things I was supposed to do (ooh, I just remembered, I DID manage to make dinner! Phew, I’m not a complete lazy slug).  So after wallowing in self-misery, I managed to snap out of it. It is now just after midnight, and in the course of the 2 hours and 30 minutes that have passed I have sorted all of the laundry (11 loads!!), done 2 of those loads, unpacked 3 suitcases, cleaned up the kitchen counter (junk piles galore), cleaned up the kids shoes (at least 6 pairs!), got my stuff together for the next day (really today already), and while waiting to put the last loads in the dryer and washer for the evening (shhh, don’t tell my mom I run the washer and dryer at night!) I have updated my blog.

Phew, I am now completely exhausted. However, I am hoping this will be the momentum I need to start tomorrow properly: let the Procrastination Fairy have left this house for a few days!

 

Boys and Men

I think an ongoing problem Scott and I are going to have is in regards to how to raise a son.

So far it has been small, subtle, insignificant things. But I think it is indicative of a bigger issue for Scott. Bottom line: Scott wants Owen to grow up to be a MAN. Not a Mama’s Boy, sissy, wimp, or, God forbid, Fag.

On one hand, I understand where he is coming from. Working in education he has seen first hand the problems some boys have. He’s seen the Mama’s boy who has no idea how to stand up for himself. He’s seen these boys get picked on mercilessly at the middle school level. He tries to counsel and guide these boys about what it takes to be a man, only to have their mother’s come in and coddle them and strike out at everyone else who “did this to her son.” These mothers refuse to see their boys as future men.

But, he knows that that is not how I am. But he is hyper-aware, even sensitive that I may turn into one of those mothers at anytime, so he feels like he has to be on guard. Even early in Owen’s life, I’d be breastfeeding him or Owen would show a preference for me (as infants are known to do) and Scott would make comments about how “he’s such a Mama’s boy.” And then now, when Owen comes up to wrestle Scott, he’ll say something like, “he’s my boy now.” I don’t know where it comes from other than a deep down fear of Scott’s.

x-mas pjs, originally uploaded by soukii.

Tonight I gave Owen these pajamas and Owen didn’t like them at first. I had to talk him into them. They are just red flannel with cute little fat penguins. I asked Scott to help “talk him into them.” Scott felt the need to take me aside and say these were not very “boyish” pajamas and that if Owen didn’t like them, I shouldn’t force him to wear them. It is important to note, Owen did not say this, this was Scott interpreting Owen’s not liking them.

I said I wasn’t forcing him, that he was 4 and tends to not like anything that is not on his current list of favorites: Star Wars, Pirates or weapons or guns. I said 4 year-olds don’t like most things that aren’t their ideas, but it is our job to guide him. I told him that these pjs were completely acceptable and not at all “feminine.”

He said that he didn’t mean that. He said that he should be allowed to have an opinion about things he’s wearing. Then he said something ridiculous about how Owen’s not my brother. WTF?!?! He said that my mom probably made my brother wear pajamas like that. And at that point I should have said, “Yeah, pajamas is what made him gay.” But instead, I said “F#@$ off.” Not my most mature moment.

But he gets so sensitive about things like this, but I really don’t understand what it is that sets him off. It was like he saw this little typical 4 year-old assertion of opinion and read way more into it. It was like he felt he was standing up for Owen against me. He was trying to be all calm and rational in the way he convinced me that these pajamas were “evil.” Like if he could convince me of this, he would be saving Owen from having an over-bearing, controlling mother who wants her son to stay a baby forever.

Um, honey? They’re just pajamas.

 

Unspoken Thoughts

This was Thanksgiving #2 away from family. So while we were sitting down to turkey dinner here in Colorado with our “friend-family,” my extended family was sitting down to dinner at my folks’ house. Except this year, my 92 year-old grandma (mom’s mom) had an episode which ended with her in the emergency room.

Now, I could go on for hours about Grandma’s situation– but that would be boring. Short version is that after 7 years of living with my mom and causing my mom to have some health issues (not to mention MAJOR stress), she has been living in a elder-care “home.” My mom visits her 4-5 times per week. She takes her out for lunch or other activities once every two weeks.

Grandma’s health is weird. A stroke she had 7 years ago is her primary ailment, I guess. That’s what prompted the move to Mom’s. But over the years, she has started to “lose it” mentally. But other than having been overweight for most of her adult life, and some severe hearing loss, she is COMPLETELY healthy physically. And she is completely MISERABLE.

She hates the “home” and my mom for putting her there– when she remembers. She tells everyone she wants to die, yet she continues to take all of her medications. She complains about 100s of aches and pains, yet when she goes to the doctor she tells them, “I’m fine” (with a smile). She can’t hold conversations because she can’t hear what people are saying in spite of her hearing aides.

Here’s what no one will say: “We’re ready for her to die.” In fact, we’re truthfully waiting for it.

When my brother and my mom relayed her episode of unconsciousness to me, neither of them said the above, but it was clearly the sentiment. They took her to the emergency room. But I deep down want to know why? What good will it do? She is DNR. At the emergency room they have done EKGs, CAT scans, blood work and a lot of other tests. Again, I ask “Why?” She’s 92 and wants to die, what can medicine do for her?

But we don’t talk about it. It just leaves me to sit here and stew and wonder if I’m a bad person for thinking these thoughts. Why can’t we talk about these thoughts without feeling like we’re evil? Dying is part of life, right?

 

Current Mood: UP, way UP

I had a great day today. It was almost so great I didn’t write about it. But, as I was about to shutdown my computer, I decided I had better write about it to see if writing would help me figure out what the “magic formula” was and/or so I could document that I do have good days– despite what I tell myself in the depths of despair.

So it started with me getting to sleep in until 8:45. I love it when Scott is off! The only reason I even got up at that time was to inform the kids as to the whereabouts of their snow gloves. We had a great little layer of snow last night and some flurries until about 10:30 this morning. This was a perfect snow because our street and driveway were melted on their own by 1pm. No shoveling necessary– BONUS!

I came down the stairs just as the kids were going outside. I checked my computer/internet junk and remembered that Enchanted started today. First and cheapest showing was at 10:10. I asked the kids and Scott if they wanted to go, which of course they did, so I got in the shower. I weighed myself before getting in the shower and it was a depressing number (249.9!!) which helped to confirm my resolve to lose weight.

We got to the theater just as the previews started. We shared a medium popcorn and two drinks– I love that our theater lets us get free refills on any size soda and popcorn, although it is tough to get up in the middle of a movie to go get them! Macy and I LOVED the movie. Scott didn’t care for it and kept wanting to escape to sneak into Fred Claus. I think he would have done it if Owen would have gone along with it, but Owen found parts of Enchanted extremely entertaining and the other parts weren’t as important as HOW HUNGRY HE WAS. (“Don’t you know I’m going to DIE, Mommy, if I don’t get some REAL food?!”)

Anyways, I really liked Enchanted. It was silly and funny and totally implausible, but I did enjoy myself. It truly was a real-life fairy tale. Of course, it probably didn’t hurt that Patrick Dempsey was in it– I love me some Dr. McDreamy!

So then we went home and ate lunch, while I started homemade chili for dinner. I went to snuggle Owen to sleep for his nap and was quite prepared to take one myself, however I wasn’t super sleepy and my HORRIBLE cough decided to strike again. (I must say this is the weirdest cough I’ve had in recent memory. I’m not coughing throughout the day, but about 6-8 times per day I will go into a coughing fit that leaves me gasping for breath in between coughs, peeing my pants (!), and a couple times already, I have coughed so hard I threw up. But when I’m not coughing, I’m TOTALLY FINE. Very weird. The only thing that seems to help is puffing on my inhaler during a fit.)

So I got up from snuggling my cute, little boy and went down stairs to straighten up the house. This is the first time since early in our marriage that I actually want to decorate for Christmas. There have been a few years, in the very recent past, that I didn’t even want to do it but I HAD to because of the kids. So I started cleaning up the house so I can decorate tomorrow, because I have this weird rule about decorating a dirty house– I just can’t do it.

So I made corn bread and yummy rice (just like my mom’s) to go with the chili. Dinner was delicious! After dinner, I made a salad and sweet potatoes to take tomorrow to Thanksgiving dinner at our friends’. I did a craft with the kids. I used our new electric pencil sharpener to sharpen ALL the colored pencils and writing pencils in the house– at least 100! (But BOY, will it be nice not to have to hear that there are no sharp pencils anywhere!)

Macy and I danced and sang away to Laurie Berkner, which was probably the highlight of the day. We used to listed to the Victor Vito cd all the time when Owen was first born and she was 3. We knew all the words and hearing it again was awesome! I really love Laurie’s music, voice, etc.– in fact, I wish she didn’t just do children’s stuff. It was listening to her cd and dancing and bopping about that made me realize what a good mood I was in. I think part of me associates good feelings with that cd and just hearing it made me feel happy.

So Scott and the kids went to bed at 8:45, and I stayed up to finish the sweet potato casserole. I’ve still got a bit of a mess to clean up in the kitchen, but after no nap today, I’m going to bed as soon as I hit “Publish.”

I think one of the reasons I’m pretty pleased with my mood being so good is that I’ve been off the Eff*xor (anti-depressant) for over a month now, and deep down I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop and it hasn’t. I’ve been feeling great- normal, even! I have times when I’m down, but it is clearly not the depression, so I’m able to cope. And even tonight when I was feeling so good, I had to stop and ask myself, “Am I manic?” and the answer was clearly NO, I was just having a good day and enjoying time with my family.

Man, I hope this is my future!

 

Frustrations of Men

OK, I’m frustrated and I know if I don’t write this down and get it out it will come out wrong if I mention it to my husband.

He messed up the laundry. I know it’s not the end of the world, but I know he knows how to do it. It’s kind of like he did it wrong so I won’t ask him to do it again. ARGGGG!

I have to admit he is being such a trooper now that I’m working a couple evenings a week. He is and always has been awesome with the kids. He’s a good guy– no, a great guy. Why does a little thing like the laundry mess-up bug me so much? I need to get over it. I’ll start by being the bigger person and not even mentioning it to him. Wish me luck.