I should learn to knit

Sometimes it feels like Motherhood is a ball of yarn that I coil up tightly each night, tucking the ends in under the bottom. I wake each morning all freshly wrapped up, ready to start the day with a cheerful disposition and happy heart. Occasionally, I will enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning light and reflect upon how awesome I am; how easily I can remain composed and courteous. Somewhere within that first or second cup of coffee, my younger children will awaken. If they wake with a smile and a skip in their step, all is good. All is well. I might even begin a chore or two before someone begins to tug at a loose bit of yarn.

Tug, tug.

Perhaps it's just a little fray, at first. An argument over a lack of cereal or adequate milk to pour over it. A foot that crosses over a "line" on the couch, daring to invade another's "space."

Sometimes those tugs can unravel my tightly wound yarn-ball. Like cats, they snarl and claw over the loosened strands and I can feel myself rolling about; fraying and knotting and snagging on the minutiae that young human beings feel so desperately passionate about.

I am not adept at crocheting a blanket from the yarn that spills about me each night. It is all I can do to simply circle it around my hands, breathing deeply as I unknot and untangle and unwind the snarls of the day.

Ever sit at a stop light and think about putting the car in park? Just parking it in the intersection and stepping away, through the traffic, and into anonymity...

There is much doubt in my mind that my children will ever write sweet platitudes about their patient and selfless mother. Their memories will contain moments of sweetness, for sure. After all, I am a person who WILL go to great lengths to help someone, my children especially. I want to make everyone happy, but not at any cost. I know what I need and I am not afraid to be vocal about it. Down time. Alone time. Writing time. Reflection time. Time to just talk. Time to have adventures in a space outside of our own. Time, time, time...

I have been asked why I blog quite often lately. The answers aren't a simple few to be paraphrased like a mission statement, but one reason is very clear: I need to be quiet and still, as though I were walking alone through the woods. I need to reflect and remember. I need this, especially during the days that unravel my peace while living in the constancy that is motherhood.

The concept of a ball of yarn came to me yesterday. I could feel it unrolling throughout the day, bit by bit, and by nighttime, all I wanted was to curl up within myself. All I wanted was to close the bedroom door and be with my husband and connect... Instead, I woke with a start in the early morning hours, having had no moments of reflection with Patrick. Head pounding behind my eyes and snow piling ever higher about our house, I fear for how quickly I may unravel today.

Stream of Thought Thursday

Hey there.

How's things?

The days have flown by just as they have dragged. This "Polar Vortex" thing has certainly lived up to its name and caused some serious issues with my own space-time continuim. I've been wrapped up in the frigid cold with all 3 in the house (which also = "no school work" for the younger two. Have you ever tried teaching 2 kids while everyone else in the region is off of school? Yeah...no). I've literally been WRAPPED.UP. In blankets of both ordinary and electric varieties, extra socks and constantly reheated cups of coffee. I've been wrapped up in the details of finding the money for not one but TWO vehicles to get heaters repaired. And to top it all off, the emotional turmoil of reading the heartfelt words from hopeful submissions for the Listen To Your Mother Show has been a roller coaster.

I have compared the production of the show to pregnancy and childbirth before. It is never more similar than this year, our third year, when we are no longer first-timers or even just returning for a second go-around. With the third show, as with my third child, I knew ALL TOO WELL what I was getting into. I didn't have a fuzzy recollection of childbirth; it was CLEAR in my mind. There were no surprises with my third pregnancy-the pains, nausea, anxiety... I went into that pregnancy with my eyes wide open.

I think that this is why I feel so differently this year. I am JUST as excited and JUST as hopeful for the stories to be told. But I know, without a doubt, that for every squeal of joy over being chosen for auditions or the cast, there will be many more tears and feelings of rejection... And there's nothing I can do about that. No matter how we word it, telling someone they haven't been chosen is still a "No." It's still painful.

Maybe producers who cast shows all the time think we take it too personally. It's possible. Probable, actually. But I think it speaks of our integrity when we say that we honestly discuss each and every piece and what it means not only to the show, but also to the writer. We all just want to be heard. To be validated.

Sigh... There isn't enough coffee in the world to alleviate this pain in my head today. I am at least glad that I get to drive through the potential incoming blizzard to Wisconsin this weekend (with a working heater in my van! Woot! Woot!). Corinne has a gymnastics meet and we will be staying overnight to slide around in bathing suits. In February. In WISCONSIN. Makes perfect sense. But it will be a huge distraction for my mind. The upcoming month includes about 2.5 days of inactivity. You read that correctly. There are literally only two and a half days in February where I am not shuttling someone somewhere/working on the show/entertaining/etc. It is going to be so awesome.

Silver linings: My family is healthy. We finally have heated vehicles. I don't have to do the show alone (I love Melisa).90% of the incoming month's activities actually are enjoyable. For all of that and much more, I am grateful. And with that, I am off to teach and pack bags and find socks and be happy.

Good Thing

Surprise! Easter is on Sunday.

Did you know that?

Dude. Good thing the Easter Bunny buys the candy and treats because if it were up to me, we'd be heading to the dollar store at the last minute, grabbing whatever was left (i.e. the chocolate eggs that taste like baker's chocolate and the jelly beans that may just be made out of ACTUAL jelly instead of the gourmet ones we usually have). I mean, if I were to be the one in charge of all of the Easter shenanigans, it would be a sad, sad egg hunt indeed because our change jar is nearly empty and I didn't budget for Easter candy or tiny gifts that fit into those colorful, plastic eggs that cut your skin when you try to crack them open (stupid eggs).

Good thing there's the Easter Bunny to be in charge.

Good thing...

Too long for Twitter

I think it's a cruel trick of the Cotton Industry that their material always shrinks at just the moment that my ass grows. Someone should look into the timing of chocolate advertisements, too. I'll betcha they up their media exposure every 28 days.

There is probably some conspiracy between the chocolate and fabric industries.

And the government.

And maybe even God.