The Hardest Day

It has been a rough week. Monday was my favorite day. It has been an uphill battle ever since.

Okay. What is happening here? What are the variables going on outside of what is going on inside of my head? Is it me or is it the world that is falling apart at the seams? How much of this am I making bigger-than-it-is?

Number 1 - I worked all of last weekend. It was a good weekend. It didn't feel like a working weekend. But I woke up, went to work, came home and went to bed. That was about the extent of my weekend.

How much contact did I have with the outside world? I talked with my boss. I had email contact with my brother. I sat down and ate supper with my family on Sunday. I talked to a friend Sunday night.

The tail end of a working weekend usually equates to a noticeably stressed 'me'. I didn't feel the stress at the end of my weekend. Maybe it was subliminal. Maybe it was still there underneath it all but I didn't openly blame it for anything that happened after the fact.

Number 2 - It is winter. I have been housebound with three to five children for ten hours a day, five days a week for (about) four solid months. We have had a few outdoor opportunities but nothing that has been really good for the heart and soul. I long for those summer days where I can park myself in a sunbeam and soak up some good old natural Vitamin D.

I felt winter before winter arrived this year. The shortening days cut me to the quick. The days are getting longer now. The sun's rays feel stronger. The sky has been blue. But I have heard a rumor that the weekend forecast is -60 weather (with the wind chill). We have not had much snow this year but we have had unrelentless cold weather. This must have some bearing on not only my coping skills, but the people within my days.

Number 3 - I am challenged each and every day by each and everyone of the children I tend. I can roll with the punches the vast majority of the time. But I have a screamer. A little girl that cries if she is not being held. She cries when she is being held. She screams louder when I am carrying her and she doesn't want to be where I am. She acts like the world is ending if I have to put her down to take care of someone else.

Add this onto the behaviour of her partner-in-onehood. He does not believe in boundaries. He looks me in the eye and does that-which-he-knows-he-is-not-supposed-to-do. He does not listen to words. He barely listens to actions. Thus, I have to carry the girl-who-cries-too-much with me as I chase him down to prevent him from destroying everything-that-is-not-a-toy.

For an added bonus, I have a two-and-a-half-year-old that is getting a little lost in this world of demanding one-year-olds. She is craving attention and affection, and is demanding it in the most unflattering of ways. When she has a partner-in-play, she mimics them to the nth degree. She quite literally attaches herself to the side of the personality that she is embodying. It is often me that acts as her cojoined twin. I suffocate easily and need personal space. I cannot exist with someone attached to my side. Thus, I feel for her playmates at times ...

Yesterday? I had these three personalities together. All day. Need I say more?

Number 4 - How much of this is cyclical? When I look back at A Year Ago Today, what do I see? A lot of the same. Life goes in cycles. Ups and downs. Ins and outs. Good and bad. Elation and frustration. If it was all good, we would have expectations that were impossible to meet.

Bad is the new good. That is my story and I am sticking to it!

Yesterday was The Hardest Day. Which should make it easy to have A Better Day today. And that ... I will do. I am certain of it.

Mom's Superpowers

I heard Mom's voice yesterday (in my head) quoting her mom's advice to me (which I am most likely misquoting now) "Don't give away your guts..."

Mom doesn't use words like that. She has only cited that quote to me (as far as I remember) once.

Mom doesn't hand out praise on a platter. I remember being very young when I tried to figure out if Mom was proud of me. Or even liked me...

I weighed all that I knew about Mom (at that time). I eventually deduced that even though she didn't openly communicate her feelings, I was pretty sure that she thought I was okay (though she never openly declared it). I am not playing the victim here. That was just the way it was. There are many ways of speaking that don't include words, hugs and lavishing praise and affection upon another person. These ways often speak far louder than words. Mom is a master at speaking without words.

Mom doesn't talk to me about what I write. There have been silences that I have taken as criticism. There have been times-of-great-worry when I know that I have given her too much information. Then there was the time when I gave the world too much information. That is when she quoted her mom's words to me (so that I could figure it out on my own).

Yesterday afternoon, my fingers sat down and wrote a tale of honesty. I opened up my consciousness and confessed all of my sins (the ones that I could remember, anyway). I didn't publish that post. I thought I would come back to it later, cull through it and see if there was anything of substance left over. I walked away from those words and heard Mom say "Don't give away your guts..."

I am running short on time this morning so I thought I'd pull up that post (that I assumed was saved when I exited the program ... it has always saved my drafts in the past). And it was gone. My first thought was "I hope it did not get posted on my Daycare Blog!" (that was where I started to post it initially, but I did catch myself and moved it over to my safe spot here). I checked a few places and my words vanished into thin air (perhaps where they were meant to stay, to start with).

Sometimes ... do you get the feeling that someone is watching over you and putting roadblocks in your way on purpose?

I don't know how Mom does it. She definitely has superpowers. But this? Pretty incredible.

Thanks, Mom. I knew those words were meant to be silenced. Honestly, I was going to do it myself. I think.

There is a lesson here somewhere. It is either "Save your work!" or "Be careful what you put out for the world to see". This time? I think it is the latter.

The Easy Life

I have it easy. I truly do!

We recently endured another Valentine's Day where there was much written to appease the lonely and broken hearts out there and 'Single Parents' were singled out and honored in a few articles that I read. I have never considered myself to be one that deserved any special honor. For me (I am not saying that this is true for anyone but myself), single parenthood was the easy road.

My marriage was hard. Really hard. I have raked myself over the coals enough times over the years (and reconciled enough times to know that it really wasn't all my fault) to forgive myself for my part within that particular partnership. It wasn't healthy. Not for me. Not for my children. And I don't even think it was healthy for my ex-husband.

When I forged out on my own, I had only my children to worry about. I had only my own (and those of my children) expenses and needs to pay for. My attention did not have to be divided between my children and maintaining an unhealthy marriage. I felt like I lost a dependent when I left my marriage. It was ever-so-much-easier for me to take care of my children when there was so much more of myself to give.

I didn't do this all on my own. I had family members that stepped in and shouldered some of my responsibilities over the years. Much more, when I was a young parent. Less and less over the course of time. When you space your children 20 years apart, you truly are a different person by the time the youngest is born.

Sure, I had only one pay cheque. But I had only one adult to provide for. Adults can be very expensive (I should know ... I am one of them). But when you are single, the expense is not doubled every time you look around. Everything is just a little more affordable when you multiply it by one (then tack on a small surcharge for each child).

I can make an 'executive decision' on a whim and make spur of the moment plans without consulting a partner. I am in the driver's seat of my  life and can choose what to do, where to go and how much to spend. Or not. Sometimes it is easier to just stay home and savor the quietness if you don't have someone who is not content with that same choice.

My vantage point is very, very skewed because I didn't have children that demanded more than I had to give. Wanted? Perhaps. But demanded? No. My kids seemed to understand from a very early age, that there were limits on spending. For the most part, it seemed like they simply accepted that was their lot in life and we carried on.

Maybe I didn't have a husband to share the load, share the good, the bad and the ugly. But I never felt alone. My 'village' was around me even when I couldn't see them. I had support in the wings all the way along this voyage. As I said earlier, I speak for no one but myself. Because I know that I was/am one of the fortunate ones.

Can it be lonely? There have been times. But the longer one lives the life of singlehood, the less you can imagine truly opening the door and letting someone new walk in. There is great comfort in living a familiar life.

I attended my 35 year class reunion last fall and within almost every single person I met, there was a void that you could feel within them as they talked of marital break-ups; singleness; single parenting and the quest to find 'someone'. I didn't really see the difference between 'them' and 'me' until my friend pointed it out. She told me that I was one of the few (if any?) single people that she knew, that was completely content with life-as-they-knew-it.

Sometimes it takes someone looking at your situation from the outside, to see what you have all along. I am so very fortunate to live the life that I live. I don't bask in material wealth, I don't long for (much of) what I don't have (I do long for a well-maintained-home though). I revel in what I do have. There is peace and contentment within my heart and my home. My family unit is cohesive. Our health is good. I am earning a living doing what I want to do. From where I sit, it just doesn't get any better than this.

Would sharing my life with someone special enhance or detract from what I already have? Who knows? Maybe I'll find out one day. Maybe I won't. But I am good with either direction. All we really have is 'now' so it is good to soak up that-which-you-have because you simply don't know where the road is going to turn from here.

Love Stories

I have been on the listening end of some beautiful love stories lately.

It is unfortunate that these stories have been triggered by grief and a need to talk of a lost loved one...

People are talking. I am listening. There are beautiful stories all around us. Sometimes we don't tell those stories while we are living them because life is so full of clutter that we can't hear the beauty in among the task of living-our-lives.

Love is all around us. We just have to listen.

I was sitting still with my thoughts this morning (okay, I was busy applying lotion to my feet before I race off out the door and off into another work-day) and it came to me. Love stories...

I must finish the writing project that has been filed under "Procrastination Project #21238" so that I can start a series. Love stories.

Love and marriage. Love and children. Love and pets. Love and parents. Love and siblings. Love and friendship. You see? No one is immune.

I want to approach one person at a time and ask if I can put their story into words, illustrate it and put it together in the format of a small booklet so that they can share their story.

One person at a time. Short stories. Stories that speak to everyone's heart.

I feel something stirring inside and it is not indigestion. It is a spark. I feel a flame begging for oxygen. I feel alive.

I must not delay.

Doing Hard Things

I sit here with a small pit in my stomach. I must leave the house in an hour to head off to work. Last night, I felt the same way as I headed off to a dance class. I felt a little of the same when I ran to get groceries right before my lesson.

Given a choice, I would choose to stay home.

I can do hard things. I can leave the house. I can go out and socialize and be among people. But it takes so much energy. I can feel the elastic band that ties me to our home pull taut and I simply want to let it go and spring back into my safe and happy little place.

I am grateful that I cannot succumb to my wishes all of the time.

Thankfully, groceries must be bought and errands must be run. I am fortunate to have friends and family that invite me out into the real world and keep me from shutting myself in. It is good that people ask me to do them a favor that forces me out of my safe space here at home.

I am not the frightened, shy girl that I used to be.

I may not act like that young girl on the outside any more but she is alive and well inside of me. When I come home and replay conversations that I have had, I cannot stand it when I hear my own voice so dominantly within the playbacks. I have had verbal hangovers when I have literally approached people 'the day after' and made amends for talking so much.

 I know that this is getting harder because I am pushing myself less.

There was a time when I was running out of the house (almost) every night after supper. Zumba was my passion. I danced. I tried a BellyFit class. I was pushing my personal limits and I was exhilarated by my bravery. I didn't need anyone to invite, cajole, push or join me on my adventures outside of these walls. I did it. By myself.

I felt so alive when I pushed my limits.

I have shrivelled up into someone that I don't want to become. I am pushing myself out of that spot a little bit at a time and I hope that (in my tortoise-like way), I will eventually get to my destination. But I remember the way I sprinted to the (illusive) finish line when I had the energy of that hare in Aesop's fable...

Perhaps I am the hare after all. I sprinted so hard and so fast there for a while, that I curled up to take a nap at the side of the road. Then, whenever I saw that tortoise approach, I took another short jog. And rested.

Jog ... and rest. Jog ... and rest. Jog ... and rest...

Is that really the best way to get where you want to go? It is better than just resting. Jogging is good for the heart but places a greater strain on your body. Thus, the rest period is required.

I know that slow but steady is the way to go. Perhaps that is exactly where the-life-I-am-leading is taking me.

But for now? I must jog to work. Maybe I will walk home ...

I'm Livin' the Dream (and I didn't even realize it)

I think that I retired from the work force some time ago and I never fully realized it.

Fifteen and a half years ago, I unofficially retired. For a year. Some may call it maternity leave but looking back, I see that it was the beginning of my retirement.

My retirement income became that-which-I-could-earn-from home. Thus, my Daycare Business was born. I was a little bit uneasy about this whole idea of full retirement, so I kept my foot in the door at my previous place of employment for ten more years.

In and around the end of that ten year semi-retirement I thought that a change of career was 'it' for me. It was a three year experiment which I am grateful that I tried. But it wasn't a good fit. Nor did it pay the bills the way that my retirement-income-from-home did.

I have now been back in my comfort zone and living a happy little life for well over a year. It took walking away and coming back to it (with a little bit of perspective and some new rules to guide me) to fully appreciate the life that I stumbled upon over fifteen years ago.

It is a good life.

I wake up each morning and I have a purpose. I have become an 'adopted Grandma' figure for five families. With the added bonus of not being asked to take on overnight and weekend shifts (which I hear often comes with the territory when these children have blood ties).

Life without a defined purpose is a hard road to navigate. You must be much more disciplined than I. Give me a day ... and I can waste it like nobody's business. If I had 365 of those days at my disposal I hate to think of the places I wouldn't go. I thrive on responsibility. It keeps me focused.

My retirement dream has been supplemented by an (almost) lifelong dream that has come true. I am getting paid to write. I dreamed this dream decades ago. I said it out loud much, much later. I started putting my words 'out there' (for friends and family to read) and they were accepted. Then I got brave and I submitted my work to the 'real world'. And I have found a small audience that is not related to me. I did it. Retirement goal #1 - achieved.

My retirement status also gives me the flexiblity to spread my wings and grow a little bit. A little supplemental job-with-numbers is helping to keep my brain lubricated and agile. I am helping a friend in the process. This has proven to be a winning combination for me (I probably would have quit this job if it wasn't attached to a friendship). Despite the fact that I do not enjoy leaving the house (my other two retirement activities allow me to stay with in the confines (comfort) of my home). This activity pushes me out the door. Not something that I would do voluntarily. But each time I accomplish this great feat I know that it is for the greater good. I always feel better at the end of those hard (yet easy, once I am actually there) days.

If my retirement was as easy as working from home, I could easily become a hermit. I don't enjoy the idea of the days when I must push myself out of my comfort zone but they are necessary.

Retirement means many things to many people. The easy life. Retirement vacations. Life without a schedule. Pursuing dreams...

Oh, to wake up in the morning and know that the day was yours to do with as you please!! Isn't this (almost) every working person's dream? But every single day? For years on end?

Why save 'living the dream' for your retirement? Maybe the dream is now. You know what they say about the journey being more important than the destination.

I look at the journey that I am on and I see that I have already arrived. I simply cannot foresee a life where I could be more fulfilled on so many levels.

My children are at stages of their lives where they need less of me. This has given me the gift of being able to fill myself up with what I need to be 'a better me'. I still have lots of room for improvement but I don't see that happening unless I keep my life full, challenged and keep the possibility for dreams alive.

It is all about perspective some times. Look at what you do have within the life that you are presently living. I know that my rose-tinted glasses skew my personal view. I know that many people are in situations that are not at all like mine and they cannot see a way out.

But if I can do it (a single parent, living solely on the income that I can provide for myself), you can do it ... we all can do it (SCREAM!!!) ...
... these are the thoughts that I am filling my little preschool crowd with each day. Not a bad way to think if you ask me.

When Did They Stop Writing Love Songs For Me?

It wasn't all that very long ago when I wondered "when did they stop writing love songs for me?". It was a little bit of a sad day when I realized that they aren't singing 'my' song on the radio any more. I hear the lyrics and remember a time when those were my feelings, thoughts and emotions they are crooning about. But I simply cannot imagine feeling that way again (insert a sad violin song here).

I have a friend who is recently divorced. She is my age and her eyes are wide open to the Wonderful World of Men. Newly single, she has resumed life again and dated. She doesn't give away too many secrets but when I listen to her, I hear her 16 year old self all over again. It is like we are sitting in the basement of her parent's house, listening to April Wine's record "Forever For Now" over and over and over again. She had very serious crushes in those days. I dated her left-overs. I married the second one and that was the end of that ...

Enough about that. Back to the future now. The reason that I backtracked and wrote of my friend's ability and desire to lay her heart out on the line again, is that I know that love could happen again. To someone else.

I have all but stopped dreaming of a life where I find someone who speaks to my heart and makes it beat a little faster. At this stage of my life, a fast beating heart equates to a health condition. Not love! So I am more than content that my heart beats a regular, steady beat to the tune of life-as-I-know-it. Life is good without the complications of 'a man' tossed in for good measure.

I suppose that I haven't given up altogether. I keep tossing out the idea that I just want 'a Luke' ...

... doesn't everyone watch the Gilmore Girls to know exactly what I am talking about here? The Gilmore Girls ran for seven seasons. 'Lorelai and Luke' were meant for each other from the start. It took them five and a half seasons to realize that. Then ... it was magical. For oh, about a season and a half. But even after they broke up, you knew that they were meant for each other. Television romance. There's nothing like it...

Anyway, I just have a feeling that if love is meant to come knocking on my door again, it will be 'a Luke'. Someone that I have known 'forever' will finally spark into something real.

I had a dream this morning. It was only a dream. But it was vivid. Oh! So! Vivid!

... mid-way into my dream sequence, I realized that the man I was taking home to meet my mother was a shyster. I caught him being himself and I realized that he was not to be trusted. He tried to smooth talk me through the moment and I didn't even bother wasting a breath on him. I knew. He could talk all he wanted. I was done.

... fast forward to the end. I was sitting on the floor and a man that I have known 'forever' was standing beside me. For some unknown dream-reason, I was feeling down and out. And I reached over. I hugged this man's legs (calves). He bent over and draped his arm around my shoulder (yes, I even have G-rated dreams). I was wearing the worn out burgundy cardigan that I have been living in since January, 2012. I looked at the frayed seam on my favorite item of clothing. Then I looked up. Our eyes locked. I had found My Luke.

Then I woke up.

It was not a fuzzy image in my mind. The dream was as clear as day. It could happen again one day. It really could. Couldn't it??

Maybe someone will write a song for me yet ...

**A little bit of dream analysis here, now that I have reread what I have just written. I think that my subconscious mind was focused a little too heavily on my worn out burgundy cardigan. I have been thinking of little else but finding a good replacement for my favorite sweater lately and have not been having good luck with it. I may never find 'my Luke' ... but I really do hope that I find another good sweater!**