Just. . . Breathe. . .

I have to keep saying this to myself this week.  See, we sign the papers on our new duplex tomorrow.  Yep.  Ten days before Christmas, and I'm going to be rushing from signing the lease to get to the office Christmas party on time.  I have laundry that needs folding, a kitchen that feels like a disaster (though I'm certain I've spent most of my week cleaning it), and so very much that still needs to be packed.

I've been unable to sleep all week.  I lay down at night, and my mind begins to race with the list of things I need to accomplish tomorrow, and the longer list of things I failed to accomplish today.  When I finally drift off, I spend the entire night locked in a dream where I am trapped somewhere (it's somewhere different every night) and have to spend my dreaming hours trying to figure out how to escape.  I wake exhausted from the effort, and start my day more sleepy than when I went to bed.

Last night, it all began again.  The racing thoughts.  The feeling of being trapped.  The near-panic of trying to do everything.  The stress of moving.  It all came rushing in the moment I laid my head down.

And that's when I gave in.  I took a deep breath, centered myself, and began talking to God.  See, I have this impossible urge to try and deal with everything myself.  And it never works.  I have to admit that I can't do it alone.  So, laying there, in the dark, breathing deeply, I told God everything.  And I asked for help.

For the first night in a week, I slept like a baby.  A dream began with Miles being taken from me - the catalyst for several of my 'trapped' dreams.  But I wouldn't allow myself to be trapped this time.  Instead, I walked straight up to the man who had taken him, sized him up, and knocked him flat with one blow to the face.  I picked up Miles and cuddled him, and slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

I will get through this week.  Even if I have to punch it in the face.

The Perfect Birthday Party

Lots of fun

An awesome cake.

Sword-fighting with the cousins.

Opening gifts

Eating cake.

Feeding cake to Mommy (or, at least the frosting). :)

Popsicles instead of ice cream.

Reading one of the many books.

Sword-fighting with Grandfather

Happy Birthday to my boy. :)

Reminders

There are times that I wonder why I bother with the Festival.  Why I spend all the time and energy on it.  Why I don't just give it up and stay home with my baby.*

And then, something happens to remind me.

Sunday, I had a rather intense encounter with someone just before the Festival was set to open.  I am still not entirely certain what I did to upset him, but before I knew it, he was two inches from my face, spraying me with saliva as he cussed me out.  With every fiber of my being struggling to maintain my cool, I asked him to leave.  When he was finally escorted away, I breathed a sigh of relief, and fought back the tears of anger that threatened to burst out of me at any moment.

Until I turned to find myself in the middle of a sea of support.  Many of my performers were there to offer me hugs.  More than a few offered physical violence upon him should he return.  I was surrounded in an instant by the love of so many people that I did not know cared so much for me.

Even now, days later, I fight back tears.  But these are tears of joy and awe at the amazing Festival family I have been blessed with.  And I know that I would do anything for them.

This is why I stay.

*Other than the fact that staying at home all the time would make us both crazy, but whatever. . .

I Have a New Nephew!

Jonathan was born at 6:13pm.  I can't wait to meet him.  I'm sure he's absolutely amazing.

But, his Mama had a long, hard day, so I'm going to let them both rest for tonight.  As excited as I am to meet him, he will still be just as cute tomorrow.

Welcome to the world, little man.  You have some awesome parents to help you navigate it. :)

My Hectic Life*

I've been complaining for weeks now about my hectic life.  I thought I'd give you a little insight into our day.

• 7:15ish am - I get up, get ready, make breakfast for Miles, and do my best to down a cup of coffee before
• Anywhere between 7:00 and 8:00 am - Miles wakes up.  Sometimes he plays quietly, other times (like every day this week), he bangs on the door yelling, "Mom-mom!  Mom-mom!" at the top of his lungs until I come running in, convinced there is a crisis.  There never is.
• Wake-up time until 8:00ish - Play with Miles in his room.  Eventually get him changed, and dressed.  Usually, end up leaving his room in a state of disaster.
• 8:00 - 8:30 - Turn on the TV and give Miles his breakfast to distract him while I (finally) get to drink my coffee and maybe even get dressed for the day.
• 8:30 - 9:00 - Do some light housework - dishes, laundry, decluttering - whatever I can manage in half an hour.  Miles usually spends this time between my feet "helping" or asking for any number of things I cannot help him with while carrying a basket full of laundry.
• 9:00 am - Load Miles - and his junk - into the van, and drive to work.  If I'm not already completely brain dead, I call one of my parents, as this is my only opportunity to talk to them most days.
• 9:30 am - Arrive at work.  Unload Miles.  Try to get him interested in something, anything to distract him so I can get some work done.  By 10:00 am, I can usually begin working.
• 11:00 am - Miles begins whining because he's a) hungry, b) tired, c) bored, or d) all of the above.  I try to placate him for a few more minutes so I can finish up what I'm doing.
• 11:30ish - Miles finally wins the fight, and we zoom out the door and off to lunch to avoid a Meltdown.
• 12:30 - Drag my exhausted rear-end back into the office, carrying a suddenly-heavy Miles, who fell fast asleep in the van on the ride back.  I spend the next 15-20 minutes making sure he stays asleep.
• 12:45 - I finally get to do some work. Until:
• Anytime between 1:30 and 3:00 pm - Miles wakes screaming from his nap.  Don't ask me why.  He does it at home, too.  It's just the way he is.  I pick him up and cuddle him while finishing my latest task on the computer with the other hand.  Eventually, he wakes up completely, and goes off to play again, quite content (usually).  I generally manage to get a good chunk of work time at this point.
• 4:30ish - Miles lets me know, in no uncertain terms - that he is done being at work and is ready to go home.  I try to placate him, or send him outside with to play with one of my co-workers who is finishing up for the day.  Meanwhile, I frantically wrap up everything, amend my to-do list, cross a day off the calendar, and clean up the remnants left by my son, the Tornado.
• 5:00ish - We finally load our weary behinds into the van, and drive the 30 minutes (longer if traffic is bad) back home.  If I have any energy left, I call the other parent, to make certain they don't feel left out.
• 5:30ish - I make dinner, while Patrick plays with Miles (or vice versa).
• 6:00ish - We all fall into a heap and eat our dinner while staring mindlessly at the television.
• 7:00-8:00ish - Playtime with Miles.  Possibly a bath, if he's amiable.  Or particularly smelly. :)
• 8:00ish - Begin bedtime routine.  Play quietly in Miles' room for 10-15 minutes, then read 2-3 books (with him in bed), then 2-3 lullabies, and goodnights.  Patrick and I take turns on this.  Whoever is not doing bedtime is cleaning up supper dishes, and shoving toys out of the walkway so we don't kill ourselves in the morning.
• 9:00ish - Patrick goes to work on a project (or a work assignment, if it's been that sort of day), while I sit down to catch up on e-mails, Facebook, and maybe my blog.
• Bed for us as soon as we have finished our chores for the night.

Which is why I am going to begin splitting my Assistant job with a friend.  We will each take half of the work load, and thus, half of the days in the office.  On my working days, I will drop Miles at her house before I head to the office, and on my non-working days, she will drop off her six-year-old with me.

It sounds like Heaven.  I can't wait to start next week. <sigh>

*True story: It took me four tries to type the title to this post correctly, because I am one exhausted Mama.

Friday Photos!

So, it's Saturday.  But whatever.  Here are some of the pictures from our trip to Denver.

Wind Farm in Western Kansas.  It was miles and miles of beautiful
windmills as far as the eye could see.  Gorgeous.

Watching TV is just as fascinating in Denver.

Mommy makes a good chair.

A beautiful pine cone at the park.

Aunt Gretchen is a superhero.  Perhaps her name will be
The Super Swinger.

Love those eyes.

And that expression.

Playing with Daddy.

One of the few pictures I have of the mountains.

Grandma LaDean's flower.

Licking the frosting with Daddy and Uncle Mike.

Chocolate goatee.

Watching airplanes.

Driving a fire truck at the Children's Museum.

Hanging with Uncle Mike.

Hanging with Aunt Gretchen.

Blowing bye-bye kisses to Grandma LaDean.

Saying Good-bye

Last weekend, we went to visit Patrick's Grandmother LaDean.  At 84 years old, she still had one of the biggest personalities I had ever seen.  She laughed out loud at Miles dancing, and played catch with him, and smiled quietly while he drove his trucks around her feet.  At dinner, she told us the story of how she met her husband, and her eyes sparkled when she talked of their first date.

It's hard to believe that was only a week ago today.

Yesterday morning, this lovely, vibrant lady joined her beloved husband in heaven.  Though she will be greatly missed by those of us here, it is hard to feel sadness at the thought that her eyes are sparkling once again, as her eyes meet his across a crowded room.

We love you, Grandma.  So glad we got to see you one last time.

And thank you to Aunt Gretchen for use of the photo.  I'm fairly certain Grandma LaDean would be very upset if I posted the few pictures I managed to get of her.  After all, her hair wasn't done up. :)

Lovin' That Feelin'

I'm getting better.

I can tell when I'd rather take Miles to a park than sit at home with him.

I can tell when he starts screaming, and I feel the urge to run to him, instead of away.

I can tell by the excitement I feel when taking him somewhere new, instead of panic.

Sometime after Boot Camp, everything . . . just clicked.  Panic attacks became less and less frequent.  I began to feel happier, more connected to the world, less afraid of what might happen.  And I feel myself falling in love with my son all over again.  Seeing him in a new light, and enjoying things about him that I'm not sure I would have noticed before.

Last weekend, I finally got up the courage to ask Patrick and Stacey if they had noticed a difference.  I was afraid that this change was all in my imagination - things were supposed to get better, so I was pretending they had.  So, I had to ask.

I was pleasantly surprised when they told me that I seem happier.  More myself than I have been.

When I first posted about my PPA, I received a wonderful letter from a family member who had gone through the same thing after the birth of one of her children.  She wrote to tell me I was not alone.  That others had survived it before me.  That depression and anxiety does not define those that struggle with it.  That it is possible to be happy and productive again.

She was right.  And I love her for sharing.

The World Lost a Hero Today

My Great-Uncle Wayne passed away early this morning.  His entire life was defined by a draft notice for the Vietnam War, when he was little more than a kid himself.  The horrors he saw there haunted him every day, yet he was a happy, friendly guy to all he met.  I will forever picture him with his long grey hair and beard, walking across my grandmother's farm, where he lived, laughing and looking every bit the cowboy.

I love you, Wayne.  Enjoy Heaven.  I'm sure it will never be the same again, with you there.

Tired

I am exhausted.  So, the post for today will suck.

This is because yesterday, I:

• took Miles to the children's farm with friends
• cleaned the living room
• vacuumed
• did a pile of laundry
• chased Miles around the living room trying to keep him from destroying everything I had just cleaned
• cleaned the kitchen
• took Miles off the dining room table where he had climbed and gotten stuck [repeat x 10]
• made stuffed peppers for dinner
• had friends over to share the peppers
• walked to Dairy Queen
• had a lovely conversation on the patio while we ate our ice cream
• chased Miles around the patio to keep him from darting out into traffic
• walked home
• chatted for a few moments with the roomie
• stared blankly at the computer for awhile, trying to think of something witty to write
• gave up and went to bed.

The end.  Have a good day.  May it be a tad less busy than yesterday.

So, Easter Was Sunday

And it was a marvelously perfect day.

We slept in.  A little.  As much as you can with a toddler.

We laughed as Miles jumped up and down with excitement over his Easter basket.

We had a relaxing morning of lazing around in our jammies.

We took a nice, long afternoon nap.

We colored Easter eggs.

We had dinner with friends who have become family.

Overall, a rather perfect day.

Long Weekend

I hate making weekend trips home.

Let me clarify.  I love going home.  I love visiting everyone, and spending time with family, and being in a place that holds my entire childhood within a thirty-mile radius.

I hate that there never seems to be enough time.  Going home for a weekend means leaving after Patrick gets home from work on Friday night, and arriving after Miles' bedtime.  It means spending a day and a half seeing everyone we know.  My mother.  My father and grandfather.  My sister.  Patrick's parents and sisters.  Patrick's grandmother, who is sweet enough to give us crash space every time we visit.  Needless to say, there's just not enough time to spend quality time with everyone.

And this weekend, we went home for their Renaissance Festival, accompanied by Bethany and Shelby and Stacey.  Which meant that most of Saturday was reserved for that.  I ended up getting to spend time with my mother, but only because I wasn't feeling well, and didn't want to be a downer at the Festival.  But I never got to see my dad, my grandpa, or my sister.  Which stinks.  And I got to see my in-laws, but only very briefly, since they were all busy running the Festival.

Add in the fact that I spent the weekend battling a sinus infection (which was diagnosed yesterday), and that Miles was uber-clingy and whiny for much of the weekend, and it became a less-than-ideal weekend.

I miss everyone so much, and I just wish there was a way to spend as much time as I want with each of them.  But, for now, I have to get as much as possible out of these whirlwind weekends.

<sigh>

Amazing

Do you ever have a moment where you are utterly in awe of the people around you?

I had a moment like that recently.

In my job with the Festival, I work with over 200 performers a year.  Needless to say, there's no way I can form close, personal relationships with every single one of them.  Nevertheless, they all tend to be very sweet, wonderful people.*

Anyway, there is another stay-at-home mom who performs for us.  She and I have always performed in different groups, and have never really gotten to know one another, beyond the basics.

The other day, we were making arrangements for her to bring me some things I needed for work.  In the course of the conversation, she offered to watch Miles for me once in awhile during the day, so I could run errands, or just have a break.

I am so blessed to work with such amazing, giving people.  I cannot believe the incredible selflessness of her offer.  I hope that this season sees the beginnings of a new friendship with this wonderful lady. :)

*For the most part.  As in any job, I occasionally meet people I'd like to drop-kick . . . :)

Little Friends

I'm really beginning to enjoy our playdates.  Miles and Elliot get a chance to play.  I get to talk with Eliot's Mommy.  It's a nice, relaxing time for all of us.  And, occasionally, milestones are reached.

Yesterday, we saw the sparks of a friendship beginning.  For the first time, Miles and Elliot began to play together.  Not side by side, but in an interactive way.  They played peek-a-boo in Elliot's playhouse.  They played trains together.  They chased each other back and forth across the playroom.  In a very simple, and yet very profound way, they played.  Together.

And, I must say that I am proud of my son - and of his new friend.  We were at Elliot's house, which meant that the boys were both playing with - and this is very important - Elliot's toys.  Given that he's a two-year-old, Elliot would sometimes become jealous, and come to take one of his toys away from Miles.  Not in a mean-spirited or even hasty way, but in a rather gentle (but firm) way that expressed his ownership, and his discomfort.  For his part, Miles never once tried to pull a toy back, never complained, or whined.  Instead, he simply looked at Elliot, understanding, in his toddler way, that it was best not to argue this, and handed over the toy.  A few minutes later, he would pick up a different toy and begin playing with it.  And once or twice, I would swear I caught him glancing at Elliot, as if to ensure that this one was okay.  After two or three of these encounters, they seemed to reach some silent toddler agreement, and played peacefully for the remainder of the afternoon.

And I realized, in that moment, that these two boys had managed to solve one of life's most persistent problems - jealousy.  And they did it all on their own.

Return to the Office

Friday, after Miles' first nap, we made the 20 minute trip out to have lunch with Maestro.  By the time Maestro had to go back to work, Miles was getting restless, so we returned to the office to run off some energy.

As we entered the front door, we were greeted by every.single.person who works there (granted, that's like, 5 people), all cooing over Miles and excited to see him.  Miles broke into the biggest grin I've seen in awhile, did a minor amount of pontificating in gibberish, and then ran straight to his Uncle Jim to be picked up.

Eventually, I managed to get past the foyer, so I could put my things down. :)

Miles spent the rest of the afternoon running from one office to the next, visiting each person in turn.  He sat with Karla and Ashley as they ate their lunch.  He played with Ashley's dog, Hunter.  He ran in and had random conversations with Roger.  But mostly?  He could be found in Uncle Jim's office, just hanging out.

(Meanwhile, I re-organized my office to get ready for the impending year.  But no one really cares what I did, right?)  :)

After a couple of hours of that, Miles came back to me, crawled up in my lap, and fell into a deep sleep.  What followed was the longest, most restful nap he's had in quite awhile.  I am happy to report that my office is in some semblance of order, and Maestro and I have a plan of attack for the season.  And Miles returned to his car seat without an ounce of complaint, talking the entire way home.


[In case you can't tell, I have decided to return to my position as Entertainment Assistant for the 2011 season.  To balance that, however, I have opted not to perform.  More to follow regarding that decision.]

I'm a Klutz

So, I fell down the stairs.

Yeah, that sounds way worse than it was.  Honestly, my feet slipped out from under me and I landed on my back, bruising my back and my tail bone, and whacking the back of my head hard enough that I had a headache all day, yesterday.

Yes, I'm really talented at falling.  Also, I think Stacey's staircase is trying to kill me.

For anyone out there who doesn't know about our living situation, here's an overview:

We are renting a townhome, with Stacey, who may as well be my sister.  Miles and Patrick and I have the two bedrooms on the second floor, Stacey's bedroom is in the basement, and the main floor is a common area.  Rent is way cheaper, and honestly, she was at our place 90% of the time anyway.  This way, I just don't have to worry about her driving home when she's so sleepy she can hardly keep her eyes open.

So far, it's been awesome to have her here.  And I'm not just saying that because I know she'll read this.  It really is awesome.  I'm not even sure if she's human.  Humans should have more flaws and annoying habits.  Her worst one?  Blaring Disney music while she showers.  Which I can totally dig.*  I'm sure my list of annoying habits is about to drive her away, but in the meantime?  She does the dishes most days, which lightens my load considerably.  And she watches Miles while I cook dinner, or any other time I ask.  And last night, when I was so stiff and sore from my tumble, Stacey took over so I could just sit and whine about how much I hurt.  And she sat, and listened, and sympathized.  Because she's an awesome friend.

Even if her stairs are trying to kill me.

*She has no idea that I sing and dance along downstairs with Miles every time she showers.**

**Oops.  Guess she does now! :)

It's Thanksgiving, Darnit!

I know this has been said over and over again, but I just have to state for the record that I hate when Christmas comes too early.

When I was a kid, I once told my mother that I wished Christmas was every day. My mother, like most sane people in the world, wisely stated that too much of a good thing is bad for you.

Well, it's gotten to be too much.

Christmas displays go up in the stores as early as September. Now, I love Christmas and all, but not next to the skeleton candy dishes.

September through December - four months of Christmas.

Then, there's the inevitable "after-Christmas" hubbub, which lasts most of January - until Valentine's Day generally appears around the end of the month.

January - one month

Then, for those who just can't wait for December to roll around again, there's this insanity known as Christmas in July.

July - one more month

All told, the stores are shoving Christmas down our throats for six solid months - that's half of every year. And I, for one, am tired.

I want to enjoy Christmas again. I want it to be something I anticipate as Thanksgiving approaches - rather than dread the sight of when I'm shopping for Halloween costumes. I want to close my eyes on Thanksgiving night, excited about the upcoming Christmas season. And awaken the day after to my first Christmas song of the year.

Part of my issue is that we have begun to skate directly from Halloween to Christmas, completely skipping my favorite holiday. I love Thanksgiving. It's the only holiday that really can't be commercialized - it's about food and family and football. There's not much you can do to ruin that combination. And it's one of two days of the year that my family gets together without (much) arguing. We fast until the dinner is ready - usually at least an hour later than planned - and then we gorge ourselves silly. The men retire to the living room to doze off and on throughout the football game, while the women (and any men who dislike sports) move to the kitchen table for cards or board games. It's a very peaceful day, full of warmth and the friendship of family.

I just wish I could enjoy it before the Christmas songs start.

Excuses

So, I'm a bad blogger and haven't written much lately. I have excuses, but really, that's all they are. Excuses.

And here's another in the long list of excuses: I'm not blogging today because I'm going home to visit family. My birthday is next week, and I need to see my family. Call it my birthday present to myself.

And someday, maybe, I will begin blogging more regularly. Until then, I shall use the Power of the Cute to prevent you from showing up at my door with torches and pitchforks insisting that I blog.*

*Though, I have to admit, that may be kinda fun . . . :)

My Life in a Nutshell

Work. Festival is getting crazier by the minute. I'm being paid now, which means more days at the office, and fewer spent at home in relative relaxation. And our Cinderella Ball is happening this week. And Academy is the week after that. And then Gypsy Revel, Media Party, Site Day, and our Festival opening. Pretty much one after the other.

Oh, and I'll turn 27 sometime in there.

Life. It's also getting a little nuts. First, there was the mold in the ceiling. In the baby's room. And dealing with the apartment office being absolutely not pleasant about it. Then, there's the kerfuffle of dealing with a doctor's appointment that they called to confirm five times. When they left a sixth message on our answering machine, we assumed it was more of the same. We showed up only to be told that the last message was actually informing us that they had cancelled the appointment. It's really not much more than a silly inconvenience, but life seems to be riddled with them lately.

Lilo. I don't know how else to say this, but she has to move to a new home. She growled at the baby. A couple of times. We've tried training, but she's only gotten more cranky as Miles gets bigger and more mobile. So, we are in the process of acclimating her to a new home, with older, calmer children. I feel like I'm abandoning a pet that has stood by me for years, but honestly, I could never forgive myself if she bit Miles, especially since I know now that that's a possibility. I was so hoping they would be best friends. To see her avoid him, and to see him shy away from her, breaks my heart in so many, many ways. I will probably write more about this, as I am really having a hard time with it.

Grandma. Wednesday afternoon, I received a call from my mother. Grandma's Hospice nurse had just left, and had told Mom to "gather the family". He anticipated that Grandma would be gone within 48 hours. We left three hours later, and have spent the last five days with Grandma. For the most part, she's fairly out of it, but for a few brief moments on Friday, she was entirely coherent, and understood entirely what was happening. She asked to see Miles, and when he came in, he laid his head against her, and babbled quietly at her for several minutes, as she smiled at him and patted his back. By Saturday morning, though, she was sleeping, and has not yet woken completely since then. We came back home today, because we had to, but we are painfully aware that she could go at any moment. I don't know what else there is to say about that.

Miles. Through all of this, he is, as always, our light and our joy. He lifts our spirits when nothing else can. He knows how to throw us all into fits of giggles by doing nothing more than showing us a cheesy grin. He knows how to melt our hearts by cuddling with a dying woman he barely knows, giving her more comfort than any of us know how to. He knows how to make us smile when we want to cry, and how to make us celebrate the little things.

Like taking his first steps. Tonight, only moments after we returned home. He stood up to show off for Daddy, then took one faltering step toward him, and then another, and a third. I'm sure he would have taken even more steps, but I couldn't contain my excitement, and I let go a squeal that scared him into sitting down. I have never been more proud of anyone in my life. He is truly an amazing boy. And I am so happy that I get to call him mine.

My Favorite Picture

This is one of my favorite pictures of Miles, for a few reasons:

1) He's 'reading'. I am SO glad that this boy has an affinity for books. Often, he uses them as toys, tossing them around with wild abandon. But occasionally, like in this photo, he will sit quietly and simply page through them, as though he understands, somehow, how to use a book.

2) He's reading his Bible stories book. He is fascinated by all things related to religion. He loves to stare at the cross on his wall. Church makes him utterly happy. And his Bible stories book is the one he's most likely to be looking at on any given day.

3) He's sitting in a rocking chair that is just his size. I think child-sized furniture is absolutely adorable. Especially if it looks exactly like adult furniture, only miniaturized.

4) That particular tiny rocking chair belonged to his daddy as a small child. I love that connection that has been forged between the past and the present - as though the wheel of time has come full circle.