Just Do The Next Thing

Unrelated Gross Dead Bird Skull that Accurately Depicts How I Feel When I Wake Up In The Morning

Today I called my mom and asked her for the International Mom Resignation Hotline number because it was 11:44am and after a 4am wake up call with #4; a tearful drop off for #3; and a nerve wracking doctor appointment for #1, I had had it. I was through.

She laughed, which made me laugh, which made it all bearable.

But seriously.

Four kids, plus the cats, a husband and a house, and I feel like I am drowning. It's like as Carly has gotten older, the struggle has gotten worse, not better.  I thought it would get easier (and my mom, in her infinite wisdom has told me it will -- or she lied, which is also fine. Whatever it takes to keep me carrying on, right??-- maybe when Carly is three.  When she can stay with an activity for a period of time, not destroy the house like a hurricane, and not run into the street for a good time... things like that.  Then it will be easier. Not easy. But easier. That's all I'm looking for.) but for now, it's hard. Like, really hard.

Maybe I'm not giving the transition back to School Time enough credit. Maybe I am just a little extra tired and fried from keeping track of all the backpacks and binders and homework, oh my!  But really, it just feels like a different sort of crazy from the summer, but crazy all the same.

My mom has always said, "The work is never done." Which I told her today, quite frankly, is the rudest thing I have ever had someone say to me.  

What?!? The work is NEVER done? 

There's NO HOPE WHATSOEVER?!?

Ha! But as time has passed and I continue parenting four kids and running a house, I see exactly what she meant. I shouldn't wait to do the fun things until the chores are done, because they aren't ever REALLY done. Sure, the laundry is finished for TODAY. Or for THIS WEEK. But not forever. Because tomorrow, the kids will all want to wear clothes again (sigh) even though that means more laundry for me.  And tonight they'll make messes and take showers, which will require towels and washrags, which will make more laundry still.

So I have currently adapted this mantra for Week Two of "Back to School":

Do what I can RIGHT NOW.

That's it. Just look at what's in front of me (the pile of bills, or the poopy baby, or the messy floor) and pay the bills, change the diaper or sweep the floor.  Just do the next thing that comes up and take it a minute at a time. 

I can't even take it a day at a time because I have no idea what the next hour may hold.  So I am just plugging along, one task at a time, praying that I stop feeling so weepy and drowning and overwhelmed.  And if  you feel this way, too, let me offer you a, "Me, too Sister. Me, too," complete with a sad little wave and a bit of a smile that says, "Carry on. We got this."

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Stay-at-home Mommy

This post is a little all over the place-- beautiful parenting moments intermingled with the stuff that makes me pull my hair out.  That's the reality of parenting, I guess.

***

The boys love playing Super Mario Brothers on the Wii together at the same time.  It's amazing to watch their brains work together. They are a really good team. I couldn't play (and not fight) with someone so well as they do.

On the other hand, the rest of the time, they fight!  Oh Lord do they fight.  Over airplanes, dinosaurs, tiny Legos.  They run and scream and play.  Even their "getting along" is loud. So loud.  

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Wyatt never goes to the bathroom right when he needs to go. Instead he dances around, making me feel that I need to go, and then, at the last possible minute, he runs up, hugging my legs, and tells me has to go!

He refuses to go to the bathroom, whereas I never get to go to the bathroom.  And I never pee alone. Not ever. Last week I finally laid down the law. They are six and three now!  Enough already!  Mommy is allowed bathroom time without the door being unlocked, opened or banged on.  For the love of pete!

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Logan has been cracking me up lately.  He told me today I had a good point.  He also tells me, "I'd like some more as well, mom."  So proper.

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Wyatt is three and a half, and man alive is he challenging.  He is demanding and screams and tantrums if he doesn't get his way. Mostly he tantrums about food, sharing toys & change of plans. It's a struggle for him.  I often find myself at my wits end with him.  Sick of him screaming at his brothers and melting down when my answer doesn't please him...  By bedtime I am through!

*

The older two are starting to follow our conversations more, which is dangerous.  We've had to give up spelling things like  L-U-N-C-H because they know how to read now.  The other day Logan asked, "What does apply mean?" When I asked where he had heard "apply" he said, "Daddy told me, that rule doesn't apply to me when I told him you read while you're eating."  They do love to read while they eat. Apple, tree.

*

Oh my lord, the worst by far is that EVERYTHING HAS TO BE FAIR. Going potty first, sitting in our laps, choosing stories, helping in the kitchen... Everything has to turn out even, or so help them god, I will hear about it. I finally told them that I will make fair what I can, but the rest of the time, we gotta let it go. Life isn't always going to be fair.

*

Making amends:

When I seem stressed out, the boys love playing with my hair or rubbing my back. And Wyatt will ask, "Are you mad at me?"  or he'll say, "I love you, mommy," when I'm grouchy at his brothers.  I love that they are so tender to pick up on my moods.  They are also very quick to apologize when they know I'm frustrated with their behavior. 

*

Tonight at bedtime Wyatt called Jack "Spratty", which is my nickname for him. It was so cute. I could tell he was tickled by it because he kept saying it.  At bedtime that little one always wants a drink of water after just getting one in the bathroom.  Drives me nuts, but I always acquiesce.  And after his drink and his prayers, he always asks, without fail, "Will you lay with me for a few minutes?" So I do.  With the loss of daylight here in Alaska, it's dark in their room.  And he falls asleep almost instantly with mommy (or daddy) by his side.

While I'm in there, the twins tend to want me to sing.  I do.  It makes me so happy to sit in that dark room with my sweet, sleepy boys, murmuring lullabies as they drift off.

*

Tonight I yelled.  And when I apologized, Logan said, "I give you second chances. I forgive you mom.  Because I love you very much."  I hate that I yelled, but it reminded me of why I don't want to yell, and also that I haven't yelled in a long time. And I'm proud of that.

*

As I was writing this post tonight, I saw this post on stay-at-home motherhood by Beth over at "Five Kids is a lot of Kids".  She said, "You have more patience, courage, fortitude, and strength than you know."  I needed to hear that tonight. That what I do here {the good, the bad & the ugly} matters.

It's not an easy job, but I am so grateful it's mine.

On Firing My Therapist

So two weeks after the miscarriage, I kind of lost my shit. (That's also when I started calling it the miscarriage. Before that, the word felt foreign in my mouth, and I refused to say it. I would just say, "Before I lost the baby."  Now I have had a bit of acceptance, and I can refer to the loss as a miscarriage, even though it feels inadequate at describing the loss.)

The day after I lost it (my shit, not the baby), sobbing in hysterics to my poor, under appreciated husband, I got an email from that sweet guy of mine, informing me of a program his employer offers that will pay for six sessions of counseling.  That very day I called and set up my first appointment.

I believe very much in being proactive about your mental health.  I believe in self help books, and therapy and, if necessary, pills.  I believe in knowing what you're facing and in doing so head on.

When I had my first counseling appointment, it didn't start well.  I called in at the appropriate time and was asked if I could be called back. Ten minutes later my phone finally rang and I was beyond irritated. Do you know how much work it is to settle and occupy three kids in three different spaces (cause we all know they can't be quiet together for an hour) and prepare them for leaving me alone?  It's a lot of work. And actually, it's impossible, because no matter how much prep work you do, they will inevitably need you and find you during that hour.  Hell, I can't even go to the bathroom by myself. 

But I digress.

She called me back and we started talking.  Before our session I had jotted down some goals I had for our time together.  I had also made a list of issues I wanted to discuss.  This is not my first rodeo, people. I was prepared.

One of my goals is to no longer fear death.  That sounds a bit extreme, but fearing death is exhausting, and I think of it multiple times a day. I blame this fear on my being a mother and feeling irreplaceable in the lives of my children.  I have realized with time that my fearing death does not change its inevitability, so I would really love to be able to think of death (mine or someone else's) and not freak out and go into panic mode.  When I discussed this with my counselor, she told me that maybe I should write out a will and talk to my kids about my death. It felt like odd advice, but I was like, "Okayyy..."

Then we moved on to talking about the miscarriage and she said to me, and I quote, "Maybe mommy wasn't ready for a baby just yet."  What? Seriously? You're putting this on me? {sigh}  I didn't know what to say.  I just sat on the other end slack jawed, disbelieving that a person would actually say that to someone.

At the end of the phone call I didn't feel any better, and as we made my second appointment, I could tell the therapist was scattered.  She had put me on hold twice so she could help the guy who was fixing her computer, and when she confirmed the appointment, I had a feeling she wouldn't remember it. 

Fast forward to yesterday, and sure enough, when I called in for my second session, neither phone call was answered.  I left messages on both her office phone and her cell phone.  She called me back four.hours.later and asked what I needed.

I was like, "Well, actually, we had a session booked for this afternoon."  She mumbled something about her calendar not working and an apology. Then she asked to rebook. I told her no. That I would be going with another counselor. 

I am not a confrontational type of person, so it was really hard to tell this person, who seemed genuinely nice, that I would no longer be needing her services. But it was worth it, because when all is said and done, she just wasn't a good fit.  She was not understanding about my fear of death as a mother, she was not understanding of my need to talk about the loss of our baby without coming up with some "reason" for why it happened. And she was not respectful of my time. I am busy. Yes, I am stay-at-home mom, and our sessions were over the phone instead of in person, but that should not have made me any less of a priority to her. 

But it did.

That one hour a week is the one time that I need to be put first. It's my time to be heard, to feel the feelings I am too busy to feel the rest of the time, and to make progress toward my emotional well being. 

I am happy to report that I called the program coordinators to seek out a different counselor and my counselor that I used last year is "in network", meaning I can "see" (talk on the phone) to him.  I am so relieved to know that next week when the time comes for my appointment that I will be speaking to someone who will make me a priority and will respect my time.  Bonus? He does evening appointments, so I won't have to worry over the kids as Josh will be home to take care of them.

*

Travel + Goodbyes

We had, hands down, the best summer.

But before we knew it, summer vacation was over.  

Our house was packed up, and our tickets said: 

August 12th PDX-ANC 9:45am

 So we met family at the airport and prepared to say goodbye.

 Goodbye to best friends...

 Goodbye to grandparents...

 Goodbye to cousins...

 {This pretty much represents how we all felt about it.}

Leaving these awesome loved ones after months spent making memories with them was heartbreaking.  When Gustav (the cutie in the red shirt) started crying, I lost my resolve and shed some tears as well.

But goodbyes were said, last hugs were given, and after checking 10 pieces of luggage and three car seats, we were off.

*

 We meandered slowly, sadly, through PDX to find our gate.

 Having made it through security like old pros, we were relieved to slow down and breathe for a bit.

We even found a small play space for the kids so Josh and I could have a morning muffin before embarking on our journey.

Rather quickly it was time to board our plane.

*

 Portland to Anchorage:

Our fourth son, Emmet, joined us.  

Kept us safe from the Kragle, he did.

*

Anchorage Airport:

Our kids were awesome travelers.  Three hours+ on the plane, and nary a tear.  I was so proud of them.  Once we arrived, Logan Wyatt and I stayed with the luggage while Josh and Jack went to get the rental car.  

Our Stay in Anchorage:

 Once we had all our luggage and children situated in the rental car (which cost $250 for less than 24 hours) we headed to lunch.

 Then we took two of our totes to the post office.

And accompanied Josh to his doctor appointment.

 That night we got the kids settled in, picked up a pizza and I volunteered to stay if Josh would do our bush order by himself.

 He was a saint and did.

(Placing a bush order consists of filling a grocery cart or two with non-perishable items and pushing it back to the "Bush Department" in Walmart.  There you fill out a slip of paper with your PO Box, opting for a COD -Cash On Delivery- so you can write a check when the boxes they send arrive at the post office.  During peak season, which we are in, it can take a few weeks to receive your goods.  Other times of the year, it can arrive in as little as one week.)

 Meanwhile the kids and I watched cartoons 

and read stories on ABCMouse.com.

The next morning we had continental breakfast, showered and packed up.  

Anchorage to Bethel:

Then it was off to the airport.

 The boys were tickled orange when they saw this Honda Pilot (the same car we have in Washington) that was a Taxi!

 Once again, I waited with two kids while Josh and Logan returned the rental car.

Jack escorted Wyatt around the airport, showing him the wild animal displays.

 Then we waited some more.

Once Josh and Logan returned, we got in line to check our luggage.  This time we only had nine pieces of luggage (plus five backpacks and three car seats) but with only two adults, it still felt like a whole heck of a lot to tote around.

The process of waiting is long.

And boring.

 Which can, in some cases,

produce tantruming.

... I won't say for sure if we had any of that.
;)

 After our luggage was checked and we made it (again) through security (shoes off, ma'am; laptops out; any liquids must be removed from your carry ons...) we headed out into the slushy rain to get on our plane.

These crazy kids were my seat mates.

 Which meant there was MUCH fighting over armrests, feet space and who got which snacks.

Thankfully the flight from Anchorage to Bethel was only an hour long.

Hallelujah.

We arrived in Bethel at the Alaska Airlines terminal, gathered our luggage and caught the third ERA van that came over to the ERA terminal.  Our wait there was to be four hours.  Thankfully Josh had gotten McDonald's for the boys to eat on the plane from Anchorage, so we had full bellies, and I had withheld screens so they'd have something to look forward to while stuck at ERA.

 We played video games, watched movies,

and listened to stories.

Bethel to Marshall:

The four hours passed uneventfully and boy were we happy when the pilot called for the Cunningham family!

We climbed aboard a tiny 207 (seats five, plus two pilots) with only half our luggage and departed for Marshall.

The other half of our luggage was on another plane headed for Marshall with more people.

We waited our turn on the runway, then off we flew.

Wyatt sat with Josh and promptly fell asleep.
He always does on the small planes.

Our big boys sat side by side in the back of the plane, calm as could be.

So I sat back and enjoyed the ride.

{Bethel}

{Can you spot the moose?}

{What about this one?}

{Fish camp near Marshall}

{Mt. Pilcher}

{Marshall Airport/Runway}

{Ariel view of Marshall & the old airport}

As always I was happy to put my feet back on the ground.
Marshall is as beautiful as ever.

{In the truck with Wyatt}

We were joyfully greeted by a whole band of children near the teacher housing who were overjoyed to see their beloved Mr. C and his family.

*

Home.
We are home.

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