Thursday, March 31, 2016

THANK YOU!!




Oh my goodness!

First of all I have to say how pumped I am to be able to say:
“Oh my goodness, you guys!”

Because… I loved hearing from so many of you, living in so many places, that you also say “you guys!" Huge perk from that post, which I was NOT expecting. I had no idea how wide spread that was -- I took my one time incident to mean it was only a Chicago thing (on that trip to Texas I was also made keenly aware of my chicago-y use of the letter “A” inside my words-- lol -- I guess I just felt strangely about all my words there.) Anyway I may accidentally end up saying “You guys” entirely too much for normal speech patterns in the up coming posts. But I will be loving every second of it.


SO….

Oh my goodness, you guys!


You have blessed me so much.

I was not expecting anything like that when I asked those questions.
I really thought I’d just be reading a list of something along the lines of “I read for the pregnancy posts only.” “I read for furniture makeovers only.” “I was just hoping you’d post allergy recipes” (Not that I’ve really done that, so that pretend person might be on the wrong blog.)
I just really thought I was taking a cut and dry poll of some sort.

Then instead you went and blew me away with love and kindness and sweetness.

I seriously had no idea you guys were even there. I had kind of just been typing to myself for years, like this was my own journal. I could see that people were viewing the page, or joining the different ways to follow -- but I had heard so little from anyone that it still felt like I was really the only one here.
Then bam -- I find out what I thought was just me flopping around like a fish out water, randomly journaling about it for myself, was actually reaching people and really meaning things to people.
I’m still pretty much speechless and awed.

I’m not sure I can find the words. But "Thank you", are definitely in the mix of words I need to use.

I had been viewing myself quite differently. I had not been seeing myself as... pretty much anything anyone used to describe me in the comments.
When I asked for a mirror to see myself with, I truly thought I was asking to see a harsh reality of things I needed to work on and change. (I thought I was being a major downer, just ruining anyone-who-read-the-blog’s day (all the stinking time.) Or if I wasn’t doing that, then the rest of the time I was just being vain, and stuck on shallow stuff, and annoying everyone with way too many details.) So when you held the mirror up and said you think I’m optimistic, strong, and brave (and you like my details, and all my random things)-- my jaw just dropped. Inside I feel so little of that, I hear so much intense struggling inside so often. But you being willing to share those things (and all the other things) helped me look at myself from outside and really admit to the fact that I have had to be brave and strong to get through things. It really helped me feel so much less hopeless right now. It helped me quiet down all the negative self talk and take another step forward right now.

I don’t mean to be over dramatic right now, but I’m truly not sure how I would have kept putting my feet forward right now without you guys chiming in with all that you have. I am not overstating the fact that your comments have changed my life.

I had no idea I had so many friends, and so many people who cared about me -- cheering me on. And I’m blown away to hear from those of you inside similar situations -- here I thought I was super alone and I’m not. And equally as blown away by those of you who have other situations entirely but still connect, because of, and in spite of them -- that also feels “not alone” as it speaks to how human hearts work and how important that is to honor that.
I had no idea anyone would value my pain (not that you want me to feel pain, but that you would join in, or connect with me there.) (A lot of my in-person experiences when I open up about pain it something along the lines of ‘shh’ing.) I had no idea anyone could relate to all of my seemingly "different and strange" life stuff. And I really wasn’t sure if they random tips and helps, really helped. I just really didn’t know.
My heart is so full it hurts, in a good way, after hearing back from you all.

And it’s not just changing how I feel. How I feel, is making it so I can keep going.
Inside the grief it is so easy to let everything get heavier. And it was getting to where I wasn’t sure I was willing to come back full strength. I wasn’t sure I was willing to try to be all of me anymore. Why not just settle for some-of-me, good enough right?

Only I knew it wasn’t good enough. I didn’t want to let parts of me go. I missed them. I just didn’t have the gumption to go get it all back.

You guys just gave me the gumption.

It’s not going to be easy. But you made me see I want to do it anyway.

So here’s some concrete evidence right here:
Since that post four weeks ago, about the pregnancy weight struggles -- I went ahead and gained 5 of the 10 pounds I had just lost, back -- just being too sad, tired and defeated to care.
(On Easter, a lady at church asked my baby if he wanted to tell her if there was another one of him coming (I’m holding him propped up over my waist -- Her: “Do you have anything you want to tell me? Is there another one of you coming?”) Honestly I’m still confused about that conversation. The easy path to go down is “Yep I still look pregnant, thank you for noticing.” But that lady is not usually like that (and my kind husband insisted I don’t look pregnant right now -- I’m not sure I believe him, but) and she didn’t seem to exude “I put my foot in my mouth” when I said “oh no…not now, maybe not ever, I don’t know” so maybe she was just having hopeful  thoughts for later? Either way -- not my favorite conversation I’ve had.)

Anyway you guys helped me cross over that invisible wall of “I’ll never do this.”
Monday I started eating healthy again. Tuesday night after kid bedtime I made it to the gym and swam laps, after a very LONG absence of anything like that at all.
That’s honestly an enormous victory, that I did that. I had to cross over the emotional hurdles left over from pregnancy (working out made me sicker -- so I was still dealing with post traumatic work out stress or something.) I had to put on a swim suit and be around humans. {I currently fit in nothing I own right -- each option looking terrible because it’s either too big and pregnancy accentuating (AKA makes me look like I’m definitively early pregnant and over-excited to wear my maternity suit), or my other options are shamefully too small and scary. (I went with too-big-and-pregnant-ish.)} I also had to just cross over the pride line of “wow -- I’ve been paying for a gym I never go to for so long, I don’t deserve to go back.” And I had to face the fear of how hard it would feel physically -- how out of shape, how winded, how slow, how pathetic my laps would look and therefore how daunting the mountain might seem once I start.
I almost backed down numerous times, on the way there I felt like turning the van around. But I kept going because I felt like you guys were there with me. I could tell myself people were routing for me. And that’s saying a lot -- honestly I didn’t know how I was going to step foot back in the place again. You got me there.

It actually felt extremely good to swim again. I was slow, but not as slow as I thought. I was winded, but not as winded as I thought. And I had a lot more stamina than I figured I would. I was so happy about it, I am sure I will be going back, and often. (I couldn’t go last night just because life was too busy for our family.)

Since Monday I’ve been able to get 4 of the 5 pounds I threw on recently. (Fast on = fast off.) And once I get this last one off soon, I’ll be working on the “real deal” -- and finally getting this pregnancy weight off. My hoped-for goal is Bronson’s birthday in early July (or at least close to.) I think it’s doable -- I hope. And anyway -- having a goal is always helpful for me -- and that one hits the pride spot, so it’s very motivational.
But I’d love your oh-so-helpful cheering on as I do this. I have a lot of obstacles in the road -- but I really want this -- I just want to be healthy and feel healthy. I may need some love to get there though. Emotions -- they are a beast.


In other news:
I’ve also spent this week reassessing our home school curriculum. (Which I would have had to do at some point either way -- but your guys sweet words really did help me feel confident in myself during this process.)
(By the way, of anything I blog about, blogging about school stuff makes me the most nervous. I know many opinions are out there in MANY variations about school any way you look at it. I just want to do my very best for my kids, but you know how it is when you are a mom, the ever-doubting thoughts “Am I doing good enough?” Not because of me, but because of them and how much I love them. I get nervous to put this stuff on the blog in case anyone implies what I’m doing is going to limit them in some way. But whatever, I know I’m doing my best, and so I’m gonna blog it anyway.)
     So here’s where I admit I’ve been really bad at keeping consistent with doing school this year. Sick-pregnancy, newborn, grandpa dying, brother dying -- I should be glad we’ve done anything at all. (I am actually. Good job me.) And I do keep telling myself at least we are only messing with kindergarten right now. I also keep telling myself that, initially I had hoped to do the Charlotte Mason thing and start school at 6 years old. So I’m not actually behind where I really wanted to be.
But I’ve been feeling the mom-guilt seeing all the peers getting ahead in reading. I feel like I’m not doing Jasmine justice.
But the reality is this…she’s a mathy kid. Math just comes out of her pours, naturally. (I find this somewhat hilarious because I am the worst at math.) BUT reading stresses her out. She hates failing, and since this is new, she will “fail”  in her estimation -- so she will just freeze up and cry during anything to do with reading so far.
She’s been getting what we are doing, without really getting it. She can sound every part out, but she’s so full of nerves she doesn’t hear the word happen, and then gets really upset.

So I’ve decided to do an about-face and switch curriculums even though we should be getting close to done with the school year.
      I’ve actually really liked My Father’s World kindergarten. I think it’s very well done. And I still really like it’s compilation of Charlotte Mason stuff with standard stuff. I might choose to come back to it for Ruby and/or Bronson. And I might come back to MFW for older grades. But for Jasmine right now, the math is too easy and the lessons not occurring in the week often enough for her. And the style of learning-to-read just isn’t hitting her mental gears the right way for her personality.
     Part of me wishes I could have known that a head of time, saved money and effort. BUT I couldn’t have known -- all of this is brand new to all of us. So I’m glad I started  here because it was such a nice combination of things it really aided me in seeing what works for her. And I think we will still use the extras -- the reading lists and science projects. (And if I use it later with another kid, then I didn’t waste money at all.)

Anyway I’ve learned she loves the games and certain worksheet styles. So I’ve spent this last week scouring the internet for information on all stuff school. I’ve looked at so much my brain hurts. I was trying to simultaneously address our current issues while also trying to decide what to do next year. (I wanted to make sure they can transition properly.)
I looked at all sorts of home school curriculums, all sorts of reading programs/techniques/teaching styles (I was determined to find a less stress inducing way for her), as well as Illinois’ school standards of learning. I wanted to see where everything connected and “what’s the big picture goal” kinda thing. What I’ve come to see is that first grade is some what of a holding pattern of getting what is picked up in kindergarten really settled in deep. Some expounding, but not really adding a whole lot. That also made me feel a lot better about where we are at.

Anyway, so my current plan is to start using our new stuff, maybe use a bit of the old stuff as well, and just kinda of keep on trucking through the summer months, because... for one, why not? We need stuff to do all day, summer or not. As well as the fact that we’ve been very slow moving with the way life has come at us this year --- we at at the place where could really rush ourselves and finish our curriculum about when public schools let out -- but I don’t want to do that when we are already crying over reading lessons at a slow pace.

So I’m gonna switch and what I’ve gone with for now is:

 Singapore Math (We got the “Math Essentials” A & B books -- Here and Here.) I like the way they focus on mental math and how they visualize things the way they do -- I feel like that would have benefited me as a kid to grasp things better. Blake is in engineering and he highly approved of their style in terms of how he’s had to grasp math concepts in his field. That played heavily into my decision (since he’s the one who knows what he’s talking about, not me.) AND the style of the worksheets was on par with what Jasmine gets excited about. I showed her some the the samples before hand and she was begging for more. (Win!)
 I think she could have started out with at least the B book, maybe even the first grade one(?), but I figured I’d like to make sure we lay a good foundation since so far MFW has done so very little with math. Jasmine is somehow teaching herself math in day to day life without any help. It’s really cool. But I want to make sure she’s kind of doing it in a way we can keep building on. I’m guessing we can get through these pretty fast, with how much she loves math. But we will see.


And for reading - I’ve bought the starter books for Explode the Code -- Getting Ready for the Code A,B, C books. I know she knows the stuff we will be starting with. But SHE doesn’t know she knows it. She doubts herself so badly. So I wanted to start with something easy and fun so we can hopefully break the “I can’t do it” mental habit.
I’m hoping we can fly through these books and get in a better spot all around. But I need to prepare myself to go slow in case we need to.
But they came in the mail today and she was begging to work on them because she loved how they looked. We started on them and she was thrilled and was having fun. It’s definitely a good fit for her. We will see how far they can get us.
    I also read in a forum about using Bob Books along side these to teach reading. So I ordered those (found a cheap set on ebay) and they are on their way. I think those will also work for us because they start simple and will really aid in the “fear of failure” department, when she will be able to actually read the first book.

I haven’t settled on our first grade stuff yet. It depends on how all this stuff goes. But I’ve really been exploring the Simply Charlotte Mason site in depth and I'm feeling like I will probably piece together my own hodge-podge of things in the vein of their curriculum style, but kind of leaning on the Illinois standards to guide where I get certain elements ; and I may buy pieces from other curriculums I’ve eyed like Sonlight  and later on maybe the core of MFW (but their first grade is just not up our alley at all.)

Anyway - no one really commented saying they were all about home school -- so maybe no one cares about this whatsoever. But it’s on my mind and you guys made me feel right at home sharing whatever I want on here -- so it’s your fault if it’s boring ...lol just kidding.

I have SO many more thoughts in my head. I’ll try to get them out for ya in the near future -- as random as the come.

Anyway,
Thank you again. SO MUCH.
It means more to me than you will every know.
I hope we can keep our conversations going. But either way -- it’s so nice to hear from you all, even this much. Life changing…seriously.

Friday, March 25, 2016

?

So I’d like to ask you all a favor.
(Trivial Side Note: I grew up an hour from Chicago -- I therefore naturally say “you guys” instead of “you all” or any other option that refers to a group -- that’s just the way we do it here. But, I naively used that once as a kid while visiting Texas and I had a rather offended girl on my hands insisting she wasn’t a guy. I’m now nervous any time I go to write something addressing everyone at once while Blogging. ha!)

I’ve noticed that as a whole "you all” have been more open with me in commenting and/or writing lately. Which I totally appreciate. It makes me feel sure people are actually there, ya know.

So I’m wondering if you regularly read this, if you could do me the favor of answering this question:

“Why do you read this blog?”

Maybe you could tell me how/why you found this blog, and why you’ve stuck around. Maybe you could tell me which parts/subject matters appeal to you. Maybe you could tell me if you feel a personal connection. Maybe we know each other in-person and this is how you keep up with my life.  Maybe I’m just enough of a train wreck that this blog is kind of like watching a reality TV show you just can’t quite drop. (If that’s your answer, I don’t mind if you want to tell me that. I like honesty. I much prefer it to flatter. Honesty is the best way to go.) Whatever your reason, whatever you want to share -- I’d gladly gather it up.

I’d really appreciate hearing from you.

I’m in a questioning place. When something very big changes, it kind of makes everything change, or changes how everything seems. So I’m constantly asking myself why about lots of things. Big, small, things that might not even have why-ablity. I’m asking it all, all the time.

So you answering will help me with two things:

1) Kind of giving me a mirror to see myself with. (Losing my brother has caused me to pause and wonder who I am, and what am I doing, and how to I affect people.)

2) Help me figure out which way to go with the blog currently.
     I keep having all sorts of passing thoughts that sound like, “If everything were normal right now I’d totally blog _______” and then I question if it’s even worth it. I’m honestly not sure why you have been/are sticking with me on this blog thing. I started the blog to show house stuff, then it turned in to pregnancy blog + c-section/vbac/birthy-stuff, then back into house stuff. I thought a couple times I’d try to do some clothing stuff but never stuck to that too well. I’ve mentioned our food allergies as well as home school. Then the blog turned into the lady who cries because she’s pregnant and sick, and then the lady who cries because her brother died. And then sort of the lady who’s still kind of doing house stuff, but still a mess. But I also have other random stuff in my head. I just don’t really know why anyone is here. So in my questioning state I’ve felt stumped on what to share. All my subject matter seems so random, I can’t figure out how anyone’s found a reason to stay.
     I mean, I get that this is my blog, so I can do whatever I want. (That’s kind of my style.) But currently I’m feeling kind of like I need to be my own parent (for lack of a better way to describe it.) I know I’m in a very strange emotional place, I feel like parts of me have gone back to childhood (makes sense with losing someone who was my childhood.) So part of me feels like I need to protect myself in a parental way. Like “Hey maybe you shouldn’t share that on the internet because when you "grow up” (aka get your normal brain back) you will think that shouldn’t be on the internet. Maybe hold your cards a little closer than normal. (I’m usual extremely honest and to me withholding doesn’t feel honest.) Just till you know your in a more regular mental state.”
     But mix that concept, into the questioning everything concept, and I often feel silent but full of words. I do want to be real, open and honest on here still. I still want to share. And that parental part of me thinks it’s fine to share about grief, or anything really, it just wants me to be careful while I’m vulnerable.

Anyway it’d be nice to have some direction just in knowing why you’re here.
And it’d be even more nice just getting to know “you guys.” :)

So if you ever were to comment, now would be the perfect time.



Thanks “guys” ;) for sticking with me through thick and thin.



Tuesday, March 15, 2016

I like authentic -- even in my fibers and figures

So the thing about grief is, even when I’m incredibly sad. I’m still me.
It’s kinda weird.
I can be nonfunctional at times, but I’m still every bit of me.
And then I can be very functional. Like maybe 100%? Maybe not 100, but way up there.
I can hate everything. And love what I love, even more. All at once.
The world is a terrible place full of things I don’t like.
But still, the world is so beautiful. And in some ways it’s more beautiful than ever.
I can be really happy.
But sadness is now just woven into my skin.

I am very split personality-ish now. (Forever?)


So to honor that, I’m gonna keep posting in that manner -- bold intensities when they need to come out, and then somedays I’m going to revel in the minute, silly nothingnesses of life.

That’s this post. Silly nothingness. But nothings that means a lot to me, just because it can, I guess.


Here goes:

I told you I needed to recover our piano bench. And that I bought a suede thrift store jacket to do so.

Guys, this may be my favorite project to date.

It was so easy. Just cut to size. (All while trying not to panic -- worrying how you could accidentally go too small and totally cut the project short.) (I didn’t! Phew!)
I added a tiny bit of padding that I pieced together from left over stuff I had from doing my kitchen chairs. Stapled that down, then stapled the suede on top like a seat cover on a chair.

Doing this project has kind of turned my design world on it’s ear.
A couple reasons.

First -- having real suede on my piano bench is entirely more luxurious than I was anticipating it would be. The touch of it is so substantial and rich. And the look of it is heavier than it otherwise would have been. Having authentic natural fibers in a space changes things.
For me, having seen those fancy rugs I talked about before, and now having this real suede, has really brought home the idea that I’m all in favor of 'quality over quantity' in terms of the things I want to own. 


     Having this leather in here, is suddenly making me grasp why big name designers chose the crazy expensive items. (Blake don’t panic…keep reading, I’m not gonna start throwing cash out the window.) Having something of 'true essence' in the space is really grounding. It takes the hollow feeling out of the room and makes it feel tangible. And having a tangible feeling room, brings something alive into the act of living.


Second -- I feel like I’ve cracked a new level’s code of design-on-the-cheap. I keep feeling incredibly proud of this simple little DIY. It’s just a nonstop “how cool is that!?!”  I have some big-price-tag-level quality for non-big-dollars.
     I am currently filled with the urge to go buy every single leather/suede coat out there in my thrift stores (that’s like a color I like, and has a touch that is nice) and turn them all into something else.
But the nice thing is, I still have a pretty decent stash of leather on my hands right now.

I took the coat apart with my seam ripper. I left the coat’s seams alone that made up the big parts, and just took off the sleeves and the collar kind of things.

My current plan is to make at least one throw pillow for my living room couch. I plan to do leather on the front and some other fabric (TBD) on the back. (I should probably stick to one -- to keep the room sane, but the urges are so strong!)
(I just laid the fabric on top for an example, it’s not sewn yet.)

And I also hope to make simple tote (it might be smallish) out of the rest of my stash. (Hopefully that urge will help me keep the pillow quota down.)

I will also hang on to any scraps, and maybe make some simple jewelry out of it.
Use the whole buffalo suede coat, my friend!

To create the pillow and bag I’ll need to by a sewing machine needle made for leather. Which I should be able to grab a JoAnn’s for a few bucks.

I spent $20 on the coat. It was a 3x size -- which, when doing this type of thing is awesome -- the coats at thrift stores aren’t priced on amount of material -- just on what it is. I’m getting more material by getting this coat than a small leather coat that costs $20.
I’m sure I could have found cheaper leather coats in the thrift market. But this was the one for me. I mean the color was spot on for my piano’s needs. And our piano bench is a longer one -- and I needed something that would cover the whole thing. I wound up going from pocket to pocket and including the side seams of the coat. (Which gave me more length than from collar to bottom.)


I seriously LOVE where the seams fit on here though, it looks so on purpose and on trend. Yet maybe timeless?


If I am able to get a pillow and a bag out of this deal -- that’s gonna be phenomenal savings. Especially when talking bags -- real leather bags cost an arm and a leg.
I’m not sure how mine will look.
But like I said -- I now feel like I’ve cracked the code -- I’m willing to try this again with a different coat. And maybe I’ll be able to get some big scores as the weather warms up, and the stores want to clear space?

And
Third --
I’m feeling pretty savvy about the reduce-reuse-recycle aspect here. I know not everyone feels good about leather. But I’m gonna venture to say the fact that it’s thrifted (already created and not going into a landfill) might mend some bridges there. I know I feel good about that part.
Plus,  in terms of my bench and my home -- because I know it’s not brand new, and it’s not so very pricey (although generally speaking I try to spend less per item when thrifting -- anyway) I don’t feel super worried about the kids doing much damage to it.  I’m attached to this one, but I could always thrift a different one if catastrophe happens.

So all around -- this bench recover is a major win in my world.


Also…

 In the land of “real” and substance. I bought some real brass, vintage, figurines on ebay. I had some paypal funds and me and a certain 3 year old fell in love with these ones.
 


(Oh and that brass lamp was $8 at the thrift store. I oogled it for months, and no one bought it. So when it dawned on me I had the right spot for it, I rushed back to get it. I LOVE those fish scales -- or more likely mermaid scales, in this house. I'm still 50/50 on the lamp shade, hence the plastic wrap still being on.)

To each their own -- these will not appeal to everyone. But man, these make me happy.

 
I didn’t get the the figurines for 'thrift store cheap'. More like 'Target-decor-price'. (Which for the vintage brass figurine world of ebay, I think I did quite well.) But I really like that I got something old and more unique then something anyone could grab at Target.
And once again, the realness of these ,is so delightful in the room. It grounds it even more.


And what’s really nice about these is they are fairly indestructible. Kids are safe to touch them and move them around. (Not throw them of course. These are very heavy! Throwing we be a disaster.) 

They make for really nice coffee table items when you have a bit bigger than toddler aged kids. (I’m under no delusions, I’m enjoying these placed here for the limited hours I have left to do so before baby Bronson get’s just a smidgen more mobile. Then they will have to go up higher for a while, before he learns to handle them.) But I like letting the kids play with with them. Ruby is hilariously cute with them. She’s demeeded the elephant the baby giraffe’s grandma. 

And they call eachother with the mom giraffe’s horns. (Which in her world make this adorable “dododdodododo” sound.)
As I mentioned way back, I found that plant’s container at the thrift and it’s plastic = Also kid friendly. And I just used our Whinnie the Pooh book as an added something-something. Which is fun because it inspires us to read it more often. So a very kid (not so much toddler) friendly coffee table over all.


When Bronson gets bigger I think I wanna try for a soft basket with stylized blocks type something. We will see.

I’ve started crocheting a basket (I want two) to go over our plant’s pots. I'm close to done with this one. I’ll show you a better picture when I am done.

I’m all about adding the the subtle textures of this space now. (And my hands appreciate things to keep them busy these days. Knitting and crochet are so similar to meditation.) I looked at this basket tutorial and just kind of did my best winging this thing to fit. I had to take out decent amounts of rows when I found I was doing things wrong, numerous times. But it was ok. I’m seriously in love with how it’s turning out through. So organic.
I’m using a roll of jute I got from Home Depot for like $2-$3. And some black cotton yarn. (This particular yarn is from a thrift store cotton sweater I once upon a time ago took apart to upcycle.) So this basket is very cheap, but I feel like it’s an art installation.

I’m liking all the cheap thrills of rich textures and authentic fibers and materials. The room is starting to get polished.
Next I’m eyeing new lamps and trying to put my finger on that situation. And I’m hoping to sell off a bit more of my un-used home goods to fund something a bit more pricey on those purchases.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Nothing is tame.

I’ve entered the stage of grief I never knew existed. Anxiety.
I never heard a thing about that, but apparently it’s very normal (proof here, if you’re interested.)



My mind is a serious black hole for thoughts. I’m going to say things right now that generally anyone can say has happened to them -- all this stuff has happened a bit to me before, but believe me, this is a new level of it.
I retain nothing. And I physically lose everything. I set something down, and it’s like I don’t even know I ever had it, so finding it usually happens the next day on accident when I notice it sitting in plain sight where I often am located. 
     I will be in the middle of talking, and it’s like I never owned half my vocabulary. (I actually get a lot of comfort being by my parents and watching them do that too. It makes me feel ok.) I just stop halfway through sentences, slack jawed, wondering what word it was I had hoped for, and come to think of it, I’m not sure I was even listening to myself speak, what was I talking about? I feel sad, why am I talking to you about this random pointless nothing anyway? Oh, they are looking at me….ummm...
    Listening to people tell me anything is like hearing through 75 mesh screens between me and them. 
     I’m finding none of my memories are “normal” right now, something is always off. I can’t remember them in a real-to-life way. 

Inside that black hole, that is my brain, I have this memory -- it looks like it does in movies that are trying to show dreams, all stylized -- I am infinitely shorter than the person talking to me so that I can’t see their face, to know who is talking. But I am at the funeral home, the casket is to the right of us. And she is saying to me, “If your heart starts doing something weird, you aren’t having a heart attack, it’s just the grief….I thought I was having a heart attack, but it was just grief." She said it in a variety of repetitions. She wanted to make sure I was retaining it. And it’s probably good that she did (whoever it was -- that’s currently a mystery) because I was still walking around like a zombie without a firm grasp on what was really happening. I think she could tell. I think that’s why she kept repeating it. When she was saying it I was thinking, “That makes sense --what you are saying -- but that’s what happens to other people, because I feel ok. Well not ok, I feel like crying, and then after I cry a lot I will feel ok. Because my heart doesn’t feel like anything.” So I nodded at her, likely with a glazed over, yet baffled look. And I forgot about that moment.
     Instead I remembered other moments, like the concerned person, who hasn’t grieved hard, who desperately wanted to help -- I could see it in her eyes, “I need to help her. I need to help her.” so she told me “You need to make sure you sleep. You have to get sleep. I’ve seen people go through this and not get enough sleep. You need to get your sleep.” all while her eyes looked wild and driven -- she was going to plow through the snow storm in my eyes to get to me. But she didn’t know what to do when she got there.
     Sleep isn’t really a choice for me now. It’s something that choses me. (Not because of babies and kids, they weigh in, but aren’t the weight.) Grief and sleep -- they have an odd relationship. Exhaustion, utterly and wholly, every cell of my body wants to sleep for years; and fear of the stillness -- the playground of the mind.
She didn’t know that.
But the lady I can’t see in my mind, she knew grief. She knew what she was telling me.

So when my heart started acting out on me this week, I knew I was ok. Which is good, because it probably stopped me from crossing over the edge into having a full blown “I think this is a heart attack” kind of panic attack.
     My heart started racing like I’ve never felt before --- it’s not like a good workout kind of race -- that feels earned and pounding and strong. This wasn’t earned. I wasn’t moving, I didn’t notice I was thinking anything in particular. But my heart felt -- not strong and thick like a workout pound -- but light and fast and elusive --  like it was trying to run away from me, and here, and the pain of it all. It felt like a bird flapping wildly and unwisely in a cage that's just barely big enough for it’s wings to flail but not break - yet you know it’s wings are getting hurt, still the bird is too frantic to stop. That was my heart this week. A wild caged bird, who does not sing, but panics and tries to escape.

I felt physical anxiety. All the physical reactions to anxiety. But so many times I didn’t have any mental or emotional anxious thoughts right then and there. It was all my body feeling my thoughts without me.

I live on the edge of fight or flight right now. (Curious on the science of why? I usually am. Here’s some.) I am millimeters away from that racing heart. A thought of something I’m not looking forward to, a slightly raised voice, a memory, or a “look what they have in life that I will never have now realization confrontation" and there I am -- in flight. Rattling my cage.

It doesn’t hurt. My heart.
It’s just frantic and irrational.
You can’t talk yourself out of it. You can’t focus your way to something else. It can’t hear you.
It can beat on like that for half a day.

The best bet I’ve found (after some googling for help because I was starting to get more panic the longer it went) is to say to myself, “I am feeling panic. That’s what this feeling is. This is panic.”  And then sometimes the bird feels heard then and will quiet down for a while. (Before it once again wants to escape this heavy dark place.)
The other thing I do is calm breathing and NOTHING else.

Music hasn’t helped me. I tried. But I just keep having to change it. The songs don’t feels like they hear my bird, it all feels like it’s saying “no no little bird” to which my bird fights harder. Because it knows it’s real.

To be honest with you. I really can’t turn on the Christian radio stations here anymore. (I can listen to some Worship music on Pandora when the bird is calm. Then that’s ok.) But so many Christian radio songs are shocking vapid to me now. Some so much so that some of them slap me in the face with a wimpy white glove and say “I challenge you to a duel. I’d like to show you what Christianity is.” To which I say, “Umm, you’re a dork.” and I change the station.
     I’ve found some strangely deep consolation in random non-christian songs that have nothing to do with my current situation. It’s just that I can hear the honesty, the raw truth and vulnerability, the non-bright-sided-ness of their soul -- and that feels like a hug and a blanket and a bandaid.
     A few weeks ago I was in the thrift store and walking slow and feeling numb, but feeling everything, and a song came on that I hadn’t ever heard and it felt like my heart. I don’t know why. And it’s the most hilarious thing, because it’s probably been out forever (but I only hear PBS kids at home so I didn’t know about it) and it’s by one of the most “so not cool” but somehow cool enough to be famous people. And I didn’t know who was singing. But the sad tone, and the true “I’m gonna tell you like it is”ness of it fell on me like quiet snow that shields you from the normal sounds of nature. 
“And I didn’t want to write a song, cause I didn’t want anyone thinking I still care, I don’t. But you still hit up my phone. And baby, I be movin on. And I think you should be. Somethin I don’t wanna hold back, maybe you should know that  -My momma don’t like you and she likes everyone.”
So random and so silly. But that song just feels raw, and that feels good.

To be by raw, when you are raw, feels so good.

My card I was (so sweetly) sent, in that photo says, “Grief’s not a sign of weakness, or a lack of faith, it’s the price of love.”

When Mary came to the place where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell at His feet, saying to Him, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her sobbing, and the Jews who had come with her also sobbing, He was deeply moved in spirit to the point of anger at the sorrow caused by death and was troubled, and said, “Where have you laid him?” They said, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept. So the Jews were saying, “See how He loved him.” 
John 11 Amplified Version

I mean, if nothing else gets to me in the whole Bible -- that passage always will. 

It’s real. It’s raw. It’s love.

Monday, March 7, 2016

New Kitchen Rug

Well, I figure if you’ve stuck with me this long, you’re cool with me having a split personality on here. Some days I’m gonna just blurt out depths of soul. And some days I’m just gonna show you my house. Deal? Deal.

Ok, So my other rug for my living room showed up a couple days after the first one. And it’s perfect.
I had a short bit where I worried I should have gone bigger with that one. But I think that was just due to my mental place of slightly crazy. (Not that the mental-process with the rug was crazy -- just that my whole mind is a mess.)

I’ve since come to think yep, just right.

The only thing that’s a bit weird is that this rug’s sheen is kinda wonky from shipping. It’s like the fibers lay opposite on the ends than it does in the middle. It’s not terrible. And I think it will smooth out over time and with vacuuming. (I guess we will see.) Either way -- super happy with it.
So you notice that suede coat laying on the piano bench?
I brain stormed what to do with this problem…

No idea -- it came to us in essentially that state (although it got worse on our hands, because you can’t set anything on it without the finish getting worse.)

Somehow the vibe off the blog ChrislovesJulia (they’ve got a cooler edge than me) got me onto thinking I needed leather.
And the only way I can even figure out how to get my hands on real leather (the small amount of time I online shopped for the stuff, all I could find was faux gross looking stuff for still a decent chunk of change) was a thrifted leather jacket.
I had been hoping for non-suede leather -- but after a long trip around to all our stores, this what what I got. And I think it looks fantastic -- I’m just not sure how durable it will be.

I love the way the seams work out. I’m going to cut it to size (using a rotary sewing cutter borrowed from my mom) and then staple it down on the underside of the bench. I might add a bit of padding too. (I should -- I’m just not sure how much I care to go buy it.)

If I have enough left over suede I’ll make something more -- maybe a pillow. I pondered sewing a tote -- but I don’t think there’s enough. (Maybe another coat needs to come home with me?)

Anyway -- so after the living room became amazing to me with rugs in the space, I suddenly became highly aware of the power of a rug.



Which means I needed a rug for my eating area. I got my table and chairs done. (Took for-stinking-ever. I mean…life was rather intent on slowing me down -- but the project of “table and chairs” is not a small one.) But the room was not looking done enough to me.

I decided for us -- we needed and indoor outdoor rug for the space. I didn’t want to mix kids, food and rugs in a tricky way. The idea that you can take your rug outside and spray it down with a hose if you need to is very appealing.

I spent a few days online shopping and came up with this baby, and I love it!



The iphone pics are not doing it justice in the fill room shots. Here’s a close up.
(Seriously some day, at least I like to pretend that someday, I will get out my real camera and act like this blog is pinterest worthy.)

It’s really a really cool rug as far as I’m concerned. It looks a lot like a jute/sea grass/natural fiber rug. But it’s low maintenance. And it’s quite soft for an indoor-outdoor. The raised parts are fluffy without being too fluffy. And the woven parts are softer than I would have thought (but not silky or anything.)
And the rug had no weird smells. It’s only minus in my book is that it’s taking a bit longer to un-wrinkle since it’s a stiffer fiber, but it’s getting there.

I’ve vacuumed it already and that went great. I actually felt like it was faster and easier to do that than sweeping the hard floor. (So far anyway -- that might just be the new-ness fun factor.)

I got it on overstock. And for the size (8’8” x 12’) the price is awesome. (See it here.) (I get nothing for sharing -- just sharing for sharing sake.)
I also love the size for my room because I wanted to cover as much of the parquet as I could. I don’t necessarily hate parquet -- it’s just that this house as so many types of flooring going on I wanted to minimize this one. (I feel they should have tiled in this room to match the entry, bathroom, and kitchen. If we live in this house long enough that’s one of my LONG term goals -- change and tile all that space the same.) Anyway the rug helps me care much less about all that.

This is a good time for a flash back -- because I feel the need to feel good about something right now. And that something can be how far my house has come in two years time.


We bought the house with it looking like this (and carrying a smell you can’t get through your screen. That is now gone, with the yellow! Phew!)


Aww look at the littleness! Heart eyes!

Then I removed the yellow. And went grey. Which was SO MUCH BETTER.
(But later I changed my mind and went off-white.)

Look how bad this was! Sheesh! That’s looking through the eating area into the garage, family room direction.

And here is the table we are using now. And the chairs I sold in favor of my chairs I gave a makeover.
(I actually made money in the process of selling these vs how much I spent on the chairs plus makeover supplies.)



And here we are today. (I have both leaves in my table because we just had company over.)





(Sorry the color looks crazy from the phone this time -- normally it’s not THAT wonky. Oh well. That’s all the energy I have for now.) 

The plan stills calls for me painting the cabinets white. And we want to add some cabinetry to that corner where the excersaucer is now -- like a tiny sort-of butler’s pantry.
And switching out the range hood.

But so far so good.


Thursday, March 3, 2016

The weight of weight when other things weigh more

Well, I have no idea who wants to read this. But I need to type it. It’s a bit lame. It’s marginally taboo. It’s definitely not the biggest deal in the scheme of all my deals. But it’s really itchy today. If I don’t type it, it’s gonna stay pent up and extra bothersome.

The weight I gained after this last pregnancy is weighing on me. (Take that sentence in any way possible. Lame. Emotional. Physical. Cheesey. Deep? No, it doesn’t read deep, but it feels deep.)


…….

After I had my first daughter, the pregnancy weight was devastating to me. I’d never seen myself look like that, nor did I know to expect to ever look like that. I couldn’t look in the mirror for months. I just avoided it on purpose. I went forward with pure determination to lose that weight, and then some more, because I had a whole host of emotional issues after that c-section. So I emotionally detached from how I looked, and chose to just focus on health. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever look good again, I somehow figured I’d always look exactly like I did the first time I saw myself in the mirror after delivery, but that I would just weigh less and “be healthy.” I don’t know why I thought that made sense. I guess it was just me resigning to not care about looks.

Well I found out after losing that weight I did look better. Which was a perk. But I was focused on health, and really more-so on conquering my next birth. So I didn’t notice that I enjoyed looking better. That felt like just a side effect.

When I was pregnant the second time I was obsessed with health because I wanted to be able to say that even if I had another c-section that I did everything I could towards being able to have a VBAC. And I did do everything I could. Every single second of my time was spent hovering around the center of my world  -- “being perfectly pregnant.”

So of course once I did VBAC, I had no more center of my world. That’s it own post -- or if not a post (cause I don’t feel like typing),  then just it’s own thing. But anyway that was messy.

What wasn’t messy was how I looked. I mean, I just had a baby, so I looked like I just had a baby. But I sure did not look the same as I did the last time. I still felt somewhat self conscious about my appearance. But mostly I just felt pretty proud of myself for all that hard work I had done staying healthy. Not like in a cocky way, just in a “wow I really did a lot of work, good job.” So it felt fairly natural to lose that weight. I took a break from my “rules” and ate a bunch of cookies and ice cream for 8 weeks after. But then I diligently made sure I got the weight off. And felt good about how I looked again. (Not that I still didn’t have “fat days.” ….What the heck, life? Why do you mess with our heads so bad?)

Both times I lost the weight 5 months after giving birth. Both times it was effortful restraint and purposeful exercise.
…….

If you followed my blog during my last pregnancy you saw that it was not kind to me. I was nauseous, to the point of pain, for 42 (really stinking long) weeks. (I rarely threw up, I just mostly felt horrible, like on the verge of throwing up, all the time.) Most things turned my stomach more, but I had to eat in order to not cross over the threshold of bad over to horrendous. And the only way to do that was eat the only thing that didn’t make me want to die. For a while that was corned beef hash (I don’t know why -- that actually sounds disgusting, but I could eat that then.) For another while it was hamburgers. But through the whole pregnancy the only thing that cured my stomach ache a little bit, for all of 15-20 mins, was ice cream. Had anyone told me that during my second pregnancy I would have (mentally) called them a bald faced liar who just was making up excuses in order to eat without regard for health. But now, having been the health warrior, I was left to admit this was actually happening. And that I had no control of this. No amount of determination could change anything. So I ate ice cream every night after kid-bedtime, because it was worth the 15 minute reprieve -- my soul was dying from so much discomfort -- I wasn’t gonna attempt gaining a couple less pounds just to let my soul die.

To my utter astonishment my 42 week gestated baby boy was only 8 pounds 8 oz. I thought he was going to be a twelve pounder. Nope.
To contrast, my “super healthy no sugar pregnancy” baby was 8 pounds 6 oz. Life is hilarious.


So he seems no worse for wear for all that. Which I am very glad for.

But I am.

I didn’t un-nauseate for about 2 weeks after he was born.
And then I couldn’t like food.
Like when you throw up after a certain food and you avoid it because of the association. Only with everything.
I also associated working-out with nausea. Because to my surprise, physical activity made EVERYTHING worse during that pregnancy. (Which was the exact opposite from my prior pregnancy, where swimming was one of the only things that kept me sane and functioning, it was my life line.)
It took me about five months to feel like a normal person.
For the first five months, I felt like I was 100 years old. My joints and muscles felt horrible. Food was gross. And the only kinds of food that felt “safe" were crap foods.
Would you be surprised to hear I didn’t lose another pound, after the baby came out loss, during those five months?
There was actually spurts where I put a few back on (and off, and on, and off.)

So finally in January (6 months postpartum) I was ready to lose it. My body felt more like my own. And I was ready for all the right reasons. I just want to take care of myself and feel the benefits of that (I remember how physically nice it is to carry around an appropriately sized body.) I was annoyed that I still had 30 pounds to lose at 6 months out, when the last two times I had already lost it all a month sooner. But I was resolved to say “Oh well. It is what it is. Let’s go from here.”
And I did go from there. And, I did awesome. I lost 10 pounds in one month. (Which I think is very safe and healthy in this instance, because of all the circumstances. And I wasn’t starving myself or making poor choices. Actually I was making great choices. And my nursing supply was still perfect.) I still couldn’t bring myself to workout -- the emotional hurdle was still looming, but I was eating good-for-me-foods in good-for-me-amounts. I was feeling so pleased and so much less frustrated with all the things. I felt optimistic about where I was headed. This included our family meals -- which are always emotionally loaded for me with our food allergies mixed with very particular eating for some.
I was feeling better inside my body. Parts that hurt, or just generally felt bad started to feel better or improved. Walking felt more like it should.

Then my brother died.

So…
yeah….
Like I said, weight is really not the biggest deal in all my deals.


But it is a deal inside my deals.

About a month since now -- I have hovered around the same weight. Some big ups after the funeral and such. But back downs. And back and fourths. But essentially I’ve kept those 10 pounds off. Which I have to say is a relief because I’ve magically been able to do that -- I haven’t tried to maintain.
I now have about 20 pounds, give or take, to get down to my pre-pregnancy weight.

And my thoughts go like this:

“I hate this weight. I want it gone so bad.”

“Who cares. So sad. Cookies.”

“I hate this weight. I can do this. I should do this, it will help me feel better. Yeah, it will. Exercise is so good for your mind.”

“Ehh-hemm. Actually exercise terrifies me. It makes me flash back to pain -- emotionally and physically.”

“Oh….yeah. That is a problem. Well what if we just eat healthy for now and work up to it?”

“Ok….
     (Day kicks my butt)
           Never mind. I just won’t look in the mirror anymore. I’m too sad to give a crap.”

“Well do you think we should go shopping for more clothes then? If we don’t plan to lose this weight?”

“No! Are you crazy!? That’s admitting defeat. I’m not defeated. We aren’t shopping for clothes!….Let’s go buy another rug... for the kitchen.”


That’s a good general summary.
Of course I could narrate for days.

I have no idea where to go mentally right now.
I’m guessing there’s not an answer to that.
I’m guessing this is a “give yourself grace” moment.
But geeze, how long do I have to just put off “normal” and instead live inside heartache and not-what-I-hoped-for.

I mean, that’s really a whole lot of why I hate this weight.
There are moments where I feel self conscious about how I look. And I do have feelings of embarrassment.
But really a huge reason the weight is so frustrating is it’s a physical scar, that I want to remove, of all the “not-what-I-hoped-for.” And the weirdness physiologically is, I can remove it, the weight anyway. (I know I’ll still have those scars.) It’s just freakishly hard under current situation.


Bleh.







Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Today is my brother’s birthday.

Today is my brother’s birthday.

I play with words like play doh in my mind lately…. is that the right way to say it now?
“Is?” or “Was?”
The longer that I roll it out, and press it back into a ball, and roll it out, and squeeze it... the more I come to the conclusion that of course the right way to say it is “is.”


I laughed noticing my older sister obligatory “assistance” with blowing out the candles.
AKA trying to hog the lime light.

Today I want to sit and come to some sort of conclusion, or at least have a moment of something or other. But it’s really loud in here. Kids don’t leave you to sit quietly.
Someone told me that’s better --- grieving while "they keep you busy." I’m fairly certain that’s not something they are saying from an experiential place --- just saying anything to put a positive spin it on. (It’s ok to let there be only sad, because it’s sad.)
     Right now, while I’m trying to think, one baby is teething and sad, one kid is asking me about “sticky stuff to make a snowman” (there is no snow, and boogers were just the last topic of conversation) and another one is asking me “Is a tomato a fruit or a vegetable?” She’s asked this more than once in the past weeks, she just likes mulling it over. (I’ve always hated that question -- it annoys me. I grew up being told it was a vegetable, and then some smart-people-that-be all of a sudden informed us we were wrong -- it’s a fruit. I’ve not cared to call it anything since. Besides how annoying the concept of “what it is” is, that whole question is like a flash back to childhood -- and all flash backs right now give me whiplash.) And before I can answer with some kind of something, the question floats away into some very loud repetitive song of nonsense.

My kids play funeral and talk death in their make believe and kid-to-kid conversations now. Of course they do, they’ve gone to two funerals in the span of about four months. On a logical, mental level I think it’s perfectly fine and healthy for them to do that, they are making sense out of things. I’m not going to step in and change that. On an emotional level, it can hit me in the face like a baseball bat when I’m least expecting it.
Sometimes what they say is very profound and beautiful. Sometimes what they say is just plain nonsense. But no matter what they say, I’m never ready for it. Punches in a tired gut.

Honestly, even just watching them all interact with each other is a bit like lemon juice on my cuts. They are who I used to be, only I’m not any more.

None of that is their fault. It just is life.

Suddenly in certain moments, I’m now my own mom --- as I cradle their faces, I’m her holding us.

My breath will catch in my throat. There is no where to go in that. Try to stop it. I’m me. I’m me, holding my own kids, looking at the idea that the future is unknown. Is that better? Does it matter if it’s better? It just is life.


Every day is riddled with flash backs I didn’t ask for. 
I think this might be my favorite picture of us.
No one even remembered what we were laughing at so hard, but we laughed like that for a long time that day.

Some days are quieter. But some days are very busy inside. And no matter what -- those couple times at night, while I nurse the baby and it’s dark but I’m not ready for bed myself yet -- those are always the memory-moments that take advantage of the still darkness I’m captive to, and those moments pull out the bigger memories that make me want to weep. But weeping wakes up sleeping babies.
“Come on Lydia -- you know if you wake him up you’ll feel even worse, because then you’ll be doing double duty.” My chest shakes and heaves while holding back the flood -- baby stirs as his world trembles. After I can calm my breathing, small less healing tears just quietly fall, emotions tucked away. He nourishes and sleeps. I get up, not really knowing what to do now. I closed the window so he could be ok, so I could make it through. Will I ever be ok? 


When we were kids my parents went out on a date (pretty much) every single Friday night. We would get great baby-sitters and frozen pizza and watch TGIF on ABC. It was THE BEST. 
Netflix keeps showing me that I can watch “Fuller House.” I want to SO bad. But I am not ready for how homesick that will make me. I watched the trailer and that alone was like letting someone ring my heart out like a wet dish rag.


Last night (while nursing the baby, of course) I finally pieced together the last things we said to each other. (My memory is all out of order and very confused, so the easiest concepts take weeks to line up.) I’d thought through the same thoughts already since his death. I’ve been over them like a rosary. But this was the first time I realized they were officially the last things. And I could put a date on them. And  that felt bad.
I’m not unhappy about the words themselves. But last words are awkward just in that they are final -- final in a way I’ve never felt before -- officially final. 

So today is his birthday. And I can’t do anything much about it. Good or bad. It just is.

I can mentally, logically appreciate this is his first birthday in heaven, and all the good there. (Like I can’t try to blow his candles out for him ;) he gets his own show. ) But I can’t feel it. I just feel sad.



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