When Their Circus Affects My Monkeys and Other Such Trials

Some weeks flow, and some weeks, well, not so much. This past week really put me to the test. It was one of those weeks where even the simplest chore, like throwing in just one load of laundry, doesn't get accomplished. I was in week three of a new cleaning schedule. I have created cleaning schedules of my own that have worked great, but with the addition of a third child, aging pets, increased activities that accompany older children, and now a new puppy, those schedules haven't quite worked out. This new schedule gives me three simply things to do in the morning: empty the dishwasher, throw in a load of laundry, and make the beds. And at night run the dishwasher, put away the load of laundry, and sweep the kitchen floor. And then there is one simple chore to take care of each day during the week like dusting or vacuuming. 

This week I think the universe was deciding to test me on this new journey of living a simple and ordered life. Oh, you want to accomplish three simple chores? How about a crazy storm that knocks out power and your laundry doesn't dry and you dishwasher doesn't run? But, I persevered. I still managed to run the dishwasher from the previous night, unload it, reload it, and run it at bedtime. I forced the schedule when the schedule was against me.

I attempted to make apple jelly. Everything says it's so easy. It's not! And I used bottled apple juice. I failed the "gel test" in which the jelly "sheets" off the spoon and that's how you know it's ready. I forgot the part about using a chilled spoon. You don't use pectin when making apple jelly, so you have to test it by inserting a spoon into the mixture while boiling and if it "sheets" off in one big slab, it's ready. No one tells you how long you are suppose to boil it before this happens, not even an approximation. With pectin, everything is very exact. I know to boil one minute and then I'm done. Well, I forgot to chill the spoon so every time I did the test, the apple juice just dripped off the spoon like it did the first time I dipped it until it didn't and then the jelly instantly turned black and became rock candy. I could say I handled it with grace and didn't drip apple gunk all over my kitchen floor in frustration, but I won't. But I also won't say that I packed it all in and gave up. Nope, I did more research and found a new recipe that uses pectin. No "sheeting". I haven't had the time to attempt it again, but I have purposely kept out my canner and supplies for when I am ready, which will be some time this week.

Test three happened to be with a friend of my oldest son. He's really the only friend my son has. Friends is a really sore subject with me. We do not really have any friends in this so-called small, close-knit community we live in. I'm really trying hard not to be interested any more in figuring out why. If it was just me, I don't think I'd care that much. But, I have my boys. The kids in our town play with their parents' friends' kids or the kids down the street. We have no kids down the street and we have no friends. And now that my son is almost 10, you don't really do playdates any longer, so we're stuck. People have said he's welcome any time, but when it comes to actually calling and asking for him to come over, it never happens.

So we now have this real friend. Both boys suffer from anxiety. I've reached out to the mom several times. I know she has a lot on her plate right now with all her kids. I get it. Every time I reach out for this child to play with my son outside of school, I'm shut out. I've tried to be as accommodating as I know how to be in factoring in the anxiety, the other kids. Still, she's completely closed off. She's extended invites, but has never followed through with them. I've extended invites that she agrees to, but then backs out last minute, all leaving my child sad and disappointed. I've now stopped telling him about these possible outings. And how do I explain to him that his friend apparently doesn't want to come to our house? Doesn't want to go to the movies? Doesn't want to play at the park? I'm not sure if any of that is even true. There's a big piece of the puzzle that I'm missing, and while I'm sympathetic to the family's privacy and struggles, I am also frustrated. I'm here. I'm trying to understand your son's anxiety and fears. I'm willing to work with you and not judge you. Let's make this work for our boys. I understand how hard it is to put yourself and your kids out there, but give me a chance. Nothing. 

I desperately want my children to have close, healthy friendships, and down the road, I believe they will. It's just that they don't have many friends now. When I was their age, I had tons of friends. We were over each other's house constantly. My boys don't have this. But, my husband and I were talking. My "tons of friends" when I was seven? Gone. I'm not friends with a single one of them outside of Facebook. My best friend today I met in the 9th grade. She didn't even go to my school district until 7th grade. In fact, she was born in Africa. So I have hope for my boys that the friends they are meant to have are still out there, waiting for them. In the meantime, we are trying. Trying to not make it all a big deal, Trying to protect our kids from hurt. Trying to give them happy memories that don't rely on the kid down the street. They don't even realize what they are missing. They think the friends they see in school and only in school are fine. We're trying to find other alternatives outside of this dinky town to make new friends. 

Homesteading Newbie

I am sad to say that I don't think I will ever be a true homesteader, not as long as I live in the town where I do. Every stinking homesteading blog I've read has pages upon pages devoted to chickens. Beautiful, colorful, weird chickens! We're not allowed to have chickens, and I have the perfect place for a coop picked out, too! BUT, I've decided not to allow that to get in my way. I've been spending a lot of time reading about what it means to be a homesteader, and while chickens and other sundry animals are a big part of it, the real idea behind it is to be more self-sufficient and live an overall frugal lifestyle. Now, more than ever as my husband and I are seriously contemplating taking out loans to send our boys to private school, we need to live a frugally. 

Now, for me frugal used to mean simply being good with money or knowing how to budget. For the most part, except that damn grocery budget, we know how to manage our money. It hasn't helped that our paychecks have been slashed in the last two years and we find ourselves still living paycheck to paycheck. But, for the most part, we have maintained our creature comforts. 

Frugal means so much more. It means a paring down, choosing simplicity, focusing on what we need rather than what we want. For example, I don't buy paper towels every month. When I do buy them, I buy an economy size bundle of the store brand for $12.50 (and most times I have a $2 off coupon, but let's leave that out of the mix right now), which brings my grand total to maybe $75 a year for paper towels...maybe, if I buy them every two months, which I'm not sure that I do. It's not THAT much money, right? I'm not flying through them, right? Right! It's all right! But, I'm pretty sure frugal means that even though $75 as a high estimate for paper towels is pretty reasonable in the course of a year, I don't need them. So, what did I do today? I found a clearance rack of washcloths. For six, they were just $2.50. I bought eighteen for the kitchen and twelve for the upstairs bathroom. Right there, I just spent what I spend for a pack of paper towels. I bought two baskets for a total of $20. The plan is to transition out of paper towels because I don't need them, I'll save some money, and it's better for the environment. That's being frugal and my first step to treating my home like a homestead.

Having withdrawn myself from Facebook and the daily drama of the outside world, I have been spending A LOT of time on Pinterest. I'm trying to spend more time on cleaning, but this puppy is really getting in the way of that. This past week I've made a list of small things I can do right now to start becoming a suburban homesteader:

1. Switch from paper towels to cloth.

2. Can jelly. I usually put up strawberry jam in June, but my kids have been after me for grape jelly, so I bought some grape and apple juice and pectin. I have all the canning materials for that already. (And a little secret, with jelly and jam, you don't need a canner. You can flip the jars upside down for five minutes and it does the same thing. This apparently isn't a recommended method and if you ever want to compete at a fair, you'll be disqualified, but I've been doing it for ten years with no problem.)

3. Plant an indoor herb garden. Cut herbs are expensive! So I bought seed packets for a little over $2.50 a piece. I already have the pots, so I just need some potting dirt and plastic trays so the pots don't leak. My only problem is finding a good windowsill where the puppy and the boys won't mess with them. I dream of having an old farmhouse with deep set sills, but again, I'm working with what I got! I think I have an idea. It might require rehousing some books, but I have a sill and a somewhat sturdy bookshelf.

4. Stop buying instant pancake mix and make my own. Seriously, it's not that hard. My husband looked at me like I was dabbling in witchery when I told him of my plan. It's flour and other baking stuff and if you use dry milk, you only have to add water, egg, and a couple tablespoons of oil. I haven't actually made the pancakes yet, but I'm mean, they are pancakes! The recipe I found is pretty much like every recipe I  have ever seen for pancakes, and the fact that I've been buying store brand mix for the past ten years shows we're not that picky over our pancakes. I don't spend a lot on pancake mix, maybe $2 a box, so I'm not too sure how much I'll actually save, but my guess is something. A few dollars over the course of the year, I'm sure.

So February wasn't a total waste in working towards a monthly challenge and my resolutions. Sure, it's just the last week that I'm actually putting into effect any plans, but I think the above ideas are an excellent start. I don't in any way feel overwhelmed by them, and they are all things I can do in my kitchen, which is where I pretty much reside the majority of the day with this puppy as she wreaks havoc in our bedrooms and basement family room. (She hasn't quite figured out the going down or up steps to go to the back door and right her bells to pee.)

Withdraw, Then Connect

Valentine's Day. I've secretly always loved this holiday. Why is it a secret? Because I was the girl who all through middle and high school sat empty handed while the student council reps made their deliveries of carnations and candy grams to all of the classes. I was the girl who was suppose to hate Valentine's Day. And I did hate that part of it. But there were so many memories of it that had nothing to do with having a boyfriend that I loved. And sorry, Husband, those memories pretty much surpass most of the Valentine's Days I spent with a partner.

One thing I hate about Valentine's Day now is how my kids celebrate it in school. All the parents send in candy taped to small cards and they get stuffed in plain brown lunch bags. That's it! I used to love making Valentine's mailboxes in school. We made them out of tissue boxes, construction paper, milk jugs, and they'd be in the shapes of animals, vehicles, or actual mailboxes. They'd be tied to clothesline or festooned about the classroom while we made our deliveries into each creation. We'd make homemade cards with doilies in either the classroom or art class to give to our moms, dads, and grandparents. My little one attends a Jewish preschool, so they don't honor Valentine's Day and once my older kids hit elementary school, there was no time for such nonsense. There are tests to take after all.

Another fond memory of Valentine's Day was that it was my childhood dog's birthday. This was a pretty big deal for us. Somehow over the course of the years, it evolved into a full-fledged party complete with spaghetti dinner, party hats, cake and ice cream, balloons, and party guests. We'd let the dog sit at the dining room table and eat her dinner off the table. I realize this might sound horrific to many, but to me it was pure happiness and fun. 

College marked one of my favorite Valentine's celebrations of all time. I went to a small school that was 75 percent female. We single, nerdy girls decided to have an anti-Valentine's Day party. We dressed all in black and played a plethora of "girl power" songs. We drank cheap wine and paraded around campus with chocolate penis-shaped lollipops that one girl's mom made for us. 

When the husband came along, I had a couple years of "normal" celebration: flowers, candies, fancy dinners, but in just a few short years, Valentine's Day was once again not about having a partner, but about having fun. Our boys had arrived. My mom always gave me a small gift on Valentine's Day, small but special: a  new book, favorite movie, or toy that I had been eyeing. I try to replicate that for my own boys. No, we don't do "presents". It's just a small little token. This year they each got a Beanie Boo stuffed animal and a book, one representing a snuggle, the other a cuddle. I once tried to make pink pancakes, but that was a huge flop. None of them would eat them. They were too gross when pink. And I once tried to make heart-shaped pancakes, but those didn't work out either. We now do, in honor of Everybody Loves Raymond, fondue date night. I have two fondue pots and break them out once a year. Each year, I forget that the one requires a sterno burner, so I put it back and make the cheese fondue on the stovetop, chocolate fondue in the electric one. The boys skip over all the fruit and vegetables, and this year completely skipped over the cheese, and dug into the chocolate with marshmallow rice treats and soft pretzel bites. Prior to this, we made homemade Valentine's for each of the kids in my two older boys' classes and attached them to microwave bags of popcorn--not candy. 

Moms often get caught up the world of "Have To".They see all the other moms doing arts and crafts and homemade this or that, and they feel they have to do so as well. And then there are the moms who are part of "The Resistance" and refuse to do anything that is even slightly Pinterest based. Once upon a time, I used to be a mom who did things because I wanted to. I have never had the urge to make an elaborate birthday cake, and therefore, I haven't. I once made purple icing cupcakes for a Barney themed party, but something happened with the icing and they turned grey instead. I was OK with that. The last couple of years, I lost that joy of the world of "Want To". I didn't want to do any of it. I felt that my kids didn't really appreciate it or me, they had just come to expect it. I began resenting them and holidays and then feeling guilty.

According to the Simple Abundance journey, February is a time to turn inwards. It's a time to remember who I used to be. It's a time to turn away from the outside world and focus on who I am as an individual, and damn, has it been difficult. My first time through this book, I stopped watching the news and shows that were too violent. I shut out all the negative. No more Law & Order, for me. I pretty much stayed with sitcoms. We enjoyed Monk and Psych, and that was about as hardcore crime show as I'd get. This time around, I thought that I was already turned off of the world, and then I realized that I was maybe more wrapped up in its craziness than ever before...via Facebook.

Let's set aside the political posts, the groups trying to stop gun violence, the private groups I'm in for selective mutism and auditory processing disorder. Let's just look at my Facebook "friends". You know how many are my actual friends? Two. And then there are about four family members who are actually apart of my life. Other than that, no one is really my friend. I enjoy keeping in touch with my high school and college friends; we share an important part of our past. But, there are far too many other "friends" who could actually be my friends right now, many of whom live just blocks away, and choose not to be.

After that devastating conference with the school's principal, I then decided to turn away from the school knowing that I couldn't fight the fight--alone. Well, many of these people are perfectly content in allowing me to do that--alone. Well, if that's the deal, then why am I so wrapped up in their Facebook social lives? Why should I care who goes to dinner with whom? Why should I want to be apart of that crowd?

I've been Facebook free for three days now. Out of sight, out of mind. It's been so hard. I had done a summer of no Facebook before and it was much easier to do having the boys home from school and places to go and things to do. But now! In the cold winter! Trapped in the house! While all the boys are away at school! No Facebook!

So what have I done in the last three days? I set up a new cleaning schedule and put it into effect. Even the husband is on board with it. I began researching homesteading and making a list of ways I can start becoming more self-sufficient living in a Philly suburb and not being allowed to have chickens. I've been spending a lot of time in prayer, praying for an answer to our children's education. I've been doing a lot of fighting off those negative thoughts and focusing on making it work. And I've been remembering. I've been following the book's orders about going back to happy memories in my life, who I was as a little girl, a teenager, a college student, a new mom. I'm focusing on just the happy memories. All the ones that bring a smile to my face. I smile so seldom these days.

There's a bit of irony here. Facebook "connects" us to so many, yet for me this time around, I was completely disconnected from myself. Valentine's Day woke me up a little this year. I hadn't yet cut out Facebook, but I was flooded with memories of my past, some really good thoughts. Facebook was such a downer. This book talks about Spirit. When I read the word Spirit, for me it's God. Letting God work in your life. Asking for help. Asking to see the light. These memories...I could feel God reminding me of happier times. Facebook was cutting into that. So I cut it out.

I have a lot of work to do on me still. Cutting out Facebook doesn't magically solve my problems. But, my head is slightly clearer, my time slightly freer to focus on me.    

Books and Bills

February marks my New Year Reading Challenge. A few years ago I wanted to reread some of my favorite books, so I decided to devote a year to them, no new books allowed. But, I was in the middle of a very long book and didn't finish it by January 1st, so I made February my Reading New Year's. Last year I had amassed a huge collection of books that I received as gifts, snatched from the local library's "free" shelf, and impulse bought at Target. My goal was to read as many of them as possible and to clear off my shelf.

I started with Mindy Kaling's Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? and ended with Amy Poehler's Yes Please. I read at least sixteen books, maybe more, I'm not too sure. I often lend books to my mom, so she might have one or two sitting in her house. Some favorites were Mindy's and Amy's (I feel after reading that I'm on a first name basis at the very least with these two). I also enjoyed Barbara Kinsolver's The Bean Trees and Pat Conroy's South of Broad. I read two Mary Alice Monroe books: The Book Club and Time is a River. I really loved Time is a River. That was probably my favorite of the bunch. Ones I didn't like were Jennifer Weiner's Goodnight Nobody and John Green's The Fault in Our Stars. I really hated that one. Predictable and pretentious are just a few words that come to mind when I think of that one. 

On top of those books, I also had to reread Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Sandra Cisneros's House on Mango Street, and Elie Weisel's Night. Those really cut into valuable reading time, but I loved rereading TKAM and even read Go Set a Watchman over the summer, which was awful, but it was interesting to see the writing process that went into creating a classic. And Julius Caesar was actually a first time read for me. Not my favorite of Shakespeare, but a new experience all the same.

Whenever I start a new challenge, next year's challenge soon creeps up on me. As soon as I started reading through the stack of books I had accumulated, my oldest son came to me with the Percy Jackson series. My husband had started reading the first one to him, and he wanted to know if I had read them and what I thought about them. I hadn't and realized as far as "boy" books, I really haven't read a whole lot. I had pinned a lot on Pinterest and I had tried to pull a few gender neutral books of my own that I had read to share with my boys, but as far as really immersing myself in their interests, I hadn't yet done. So while I plowed through my stack, my oldest son started making a list of books to read and piling those on my new bookshelf as well.

I began reading The Lightening Thief a few days ago and I'm loving it. For me personally, as an English teacher, I find the story to be full of holes and lacking detail. It's full of random events with no real connection. Harry Potter was so detail-oriented. J.K. Rowling, like J.R.R. Tolkien, created their own worlds with a complete explanation of creatures and the workings of said world. Percy Jackson, if you haven't read it, is based on the premise that Greek mythology is in fact not mythical at all, but very real and in existence today. The gods, being immortal, have moved with Western Civilization and are now at home in the United States with Mt. Olympus being at the top of the Empire State Building. The mortals, are just that--mortal, too stupid to know what's going on around them and therefore can't see all the "monsters" in their presence. Percy is a half-blood, a demi-god, fathered by Poseidon and in just the first half of the book has already gone to half-blood camp and is now starting on his first quest. Like I said, the details aren't quite as cohesive as other masterpieces.

But, like I also said, I'm loving it! One reason, I'm trying to read it through the eyes of a nine year old little boy. He loves Harry Potter, too, but he's not as aware of the gaps in details. He's willing to accept the premise much more easily and get right into the action, and that's what this book is--ACTION! So, it's been fun being a nine year old boy each night following Percy's adventures as he kills a Fury, a minotaur, and then the same Fury and her sisters again (because the monsters come back from the dead because I don't know why, they just do! Duh!), and then Medusa again because she's back from the dead, too. It's also a nice refresher course on Greek mythology, which was always so fun to me.

The second reason is that he talks to me about how I'm liking the book. He's talking to me, not me to him. He's asking me what part I'm reading and if I've gotten to such-and-such part. He's directing the conversation. He's the expert on this, not me. It's refreshing for both of us.

Okay, so completely unrelated, but it's taken me a long time to get to this post and finish it. The puppy limits my movement in the house a lot. My dinosaur of a desktop PC is in the basement, which is our family/play room. It's covered in Legos and Imaginext, so we aren't currently allowing our vacuum of a dog down there. I can only get down to write if she is crated or someone is watching her, and usually when I do get the chance, I'm not thinking blog, but rather work or laundry.

In the midst of trying to schedule time for work and laundry and blogging, I'm also trying to get to all the other chores, namely keeping on top of the checkbook. This is one of my resolutions, trying to curb my spending, and today while the puppy curled into her bed for a nap and the boys were at their indoor sports events, I grabbed my checkbook and budgeting binder to get started on February's receipts and bills. I sat down with a cup of tea and a feeling of dread, of hopelessness, of no contol, and then suddenly I had an epiphany. I realized what I was doing wrong, why we have been overspending so much.

About a year and a half ago, I adopted a new budgeting system. I used to have a page in a notebook devoted to each spending category. Every week I'd sit down with our receipts and enter them into the checkbook and delete the amounts from the appropriate category. As we got paid, I'd divide the paycheck into each category every couple of weeks. The goal was to not go into negative numbers. It worked all right for many years, but looking at Pinterest, I thought that these other bloggers who feed their families for $100 a month might have something over me. We weren't really looking at our monthly spending or setting a savings goal each month, so I decided to make a monthly budget worksheet modeled off the ones I had seen on Pinterest. Instead of keeping a notebook, I made envelopes and put our receipts in the appropriate category envelope, totaling them at the end of the month.

In many ways this was an improvement. We could see our monthly spending more easily and I saw where I had a little extra cash on hand. The problem was that I didn't feel it was helping us to ease up on spending and we certainly weren't putting any in savings. When I went back to work, our spending easily got out of control, but after stopping work full time, we were still spending too much and continuing to spend too much every month. It finally occurred to my why! I had no idea what I was spending until AFTER it had been spent. By stuffing the receipts in their envelopes, I could forget about them. I was looking at just the ending balance on my checkbook.

So I ditched the envelopes and went back to a notebook. I'm still using a monthly budget worksheet to total everything at the end of each month and track our monthly spending. But instead of just that, I'm now combining the two methods. I total the receipts each week which will hopefully keep in the back of my mind what I have left to spend for the month. For example, I am currently over $300 in food receipts, which leaves me about $150 for the month. Yikes! But, knowing that, I hope to stay as close to the budgeted amount as possible instead of having no real idea what I've already spent and sometimes going $600 over budget. It sounds so simple, but I couldn't see it.

Here's to homecooking!

Running Away From It All

This morning I woke up from a terrible dream. I dreamed that I had run away from my family. My husband had also run away, sort of with me, but I guess we had agreed to take these particular journeys separately because he was there, but not with me during my struggles. A bunch of random high school classmates had convinced me to run. We're turning 40 this year and our kids are driving us crazy, so let's get out of here...now!...to Maryland. (I know, random.) So there I was in Maryland, completely lost. Not physically lost. I was in Annapolis, but with nowhere to turn, nowhere to go, and no money. I tried stealing soup from a fancy Italian restaurant and then found myself wandering through a fancy department store slipping through elegant clothes made of silk and sequins wondering if I'd be good enough to work there, wondering if I'd be good enough to work in that fancy restaurant where I tried to steal the soup, but chickened out at the last minute.

Then my mom called. She had my boys. They were scared. They were wondering where I was. When was I coming home? It was time to grow up. I hadn't even said goodbye. I wasn't coming home until I figured my life out, what I wanted to do. I was standing on a filthy Chesapeake Bay and a storm was whipping up. I could hear their voices and noises in the background, and though I so deeply missed them, I hung up the phone and then woke up.

That was probably one of the most unsettling dreams I've ever had. Yes, I've daydreamed about running away plenty of times, but I've never once dreamed of leaving my family. They've always been apart of my escape. We escape together to a new life with no worries and leave behind all that is bad. I was so sad this morning. I missed my kids so terribly even though they were just a hallway away. I felt like I had betrayed their little souls.

I don't set much store on dreams. I have them. I tell them to my husband. We laugh or shiver, depending on the dream, and then move on. Today I've been pondering this one...a lot...too much. It was just a dream. I've gone through all the scenarios about how I might be secretly wishing to abandon them all and run, run away fast. I have promptly dismissed them all. I love my family. I think this dream was just a re-commitment to them.

My oldest son is going through a child study team evaluation for an IEP. He has selective mutism and was recently diagnosed with central auditory processing disorder. (I'm sorry if I've explained this all before. It's been awhile since I wrote consistently, and I can't remember what I have and haven't shared. And I'm too lazy to go back and reread my posts. Well, I shouldn't say "lazy". I'm pressed for time...and in the time I spent to write this little note, I probably could have gone back and skimmed through some old posts.) I expect him to be Twice Exceptional (2e for short). It's when a "gifted" child also has a disability. I'm hesitant to use the term gifted. I believe that we are all gifted in different ways and working with so many students from so many backgrounds, I believe gifted goes beyond an IQ score. That said, I do feel my son has above average intelligence. This makes my husband roll his eyes. He thinks we have just a regular old average kid, and while I'd love to say that was true, especially when we are dealing with very expensive therapy and a gambit of neuropsychological tests, he isn't a regular old average kid and his disabilities prove it.

This in and of itself is enough to make any mother crawl under a rock. We are also dealing with a short-sighted school district whose principal is an arrogant, hostile ignoramus who doesn't allow us to have an intellectual, problem-solving conversation about our children without him becoming defensive and argumentative. A lot of parents go through this with public school districts. Navigating special education is never easy. On top of this, our district is a failing district, and our community doesn't want to accept this. I went to a board of education meeting to express my concerns and the board president threw a hissy fit, saying I didn't know what I was talking about, and literally threw the state report on the floor and said that's what she thought of its results. Parents are afraid to speak up. Parents are afraid to rock the boat. They are content to be a bunch of sheep, except for the ones who do see the problems and those just put a "For Sale" sign on their front yard. I want to move so desperately, even before all these issues with the school arose.

I don't believe our district will qualify my son for an IEP, and even if they do, I'm skeptical as to whether they'd actually be able to provide the services he needs. So, yeah, after several hostile meetings with school administration and no support from the community, I've pretty much at the running away point--but like I said, with my family.

I have decided to no longer fight for my child's rights at the school. No, I'm not giving up. But, it takes so much energy to do so, energy that could be spent towards researching homeschooling and homeschooling groups. Energy spent researching things I can do at home to help with the processing issues. Energy spent on formulating and coordinating our goals for the selective mutism. Energy spent reading Harry Potter every night instead of passing out before the kids when the worry and anxiety had become too much that day. The school's issues are robbing me of time with my children in one way or another, from excessive homework to hour long meetings that go nowhere, and I no longer am going to allow that.

In my first four years of teaching I attended a retreat and we learned about the circle of control. Picture a small circle in the center of a page. A slightly larger circle is around that and then an even larger circle around the two. The inside of the center circle is, obviously, the smallest of the circles and that is what you have complete control over in your life. (We learned about it terms of teaching life, but it applies in all aspects of life.) Beyond that, our ability to control diminishes. The next circle we have a great ability to control certain aspects of life, but complete control is out of reach. The circle after that we can affect change with effort. The circle after that we must accept we have no control. Unhappiness lies when we get the circles confused, when we don't have the ability to see or accept what we can and cannot change. In teaching no matter how much I wanted to save my students from abusive homes, it was not in my power to do so. I could be a light in their world, and maybe make a few phone calls if it was really bad, but beyond that I had to let it go because what I identified as abusive and what our government identifies as abusive are two very different things.

I thought affecting change in our tiny district and community that flaunts how close it is would be somewhat within one of my control circles, somewhere. I was wrong. Maybe I made some ripples. Maybe I got some teachers thinking. Maybe. But for myself and for my children, I'm not going to see the change I want for them no matter how hard I fight. There's no one standing up beside me, and with public education, you need a force of parents. So I'm turning my attention to those two inner circles and putting other things way on out of them, like off the piece of paper.

It's the end of January. I have failed at my goals, sort of. (I blame the puppy.) I'm getting back on track again. While I didn't get the cleaning done that I wanted, nor did I stick to the schedule, I was looking around my house and realizing that I did better than I thought, especially considering the puppy. She kind of forces you to pick up things and keep them up. We're also keeping her on the first floor of the house, so I've been forced to spend a lot of time there as well because, damn, if you take your eyes off her for one second! I managed to finally clean out my boys' projects from last school year and put their new projects in the bins. (I take pictures of all their crafts and make little photo books for them instead of saving every craft that walks through the door.) And the dining room table is pretty well cleaned off. I can easily run a dust cloth today and vacuum and feel that I've accomplished something for the month. (I don't want to talk about my basement!)

I've kept up with my reading. Check!

And the groceries...ugh! It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. My dog died. My son was practically threatened by our school's principal. I got a new puppy who chews EVERYthing. I was $400 over budget. I know that's a lot, but when I was working full time, it was close to $1000 over budget. The fruits and veggies? The strive for 5? I'm more like two. I made sauteed spinach the other night and it was gross. Well, to me it was gross. I don't like sauteed spinach. I like spinach in things, like a vodka sauce over Parmesan shrimp topped with cheese (a favorite dish from a local restaurant). I do not like just spinach. I'm trying. I'll need to step up my creativity a bit on that one.

And there you have it, January is a wrap and I have not run away. So, no, I haven't failed. Not one bit.

Being Thankful

Despite the week I've had, I have managed to keep up with my reading of Simple Abundance. January is a lot about taking inventory of your life right now as it is. She really does get it. New Year's resolutions, especially ones that involve dieting, exercising, and traveling more, don't really stand a chance when you're under two feet of snow. So we reflect on our circumstances, we accept our circumstances, and we give thanks for what is going well in our lives. This has been especially difficult for me this time reading. This time I have three children, two of whom are in grade school, one of whom has disabilities. Before, I was a young mother of two tiny little boys who were safe and sound in the cocoon we call home. There are certain things in my life that I don't want to accept because they affect much more than me; they affect the well-being of my children, and it's hard to find joy when you feel your kids are struggling and you don't have the power to change it...right this instant.

But I am persevering. I have recommenced my gratitude journal in which I write down five things to be thankful for each day. The first couple of weeks I skipped days here and there, and I sometimes came in under the five mark. I was okay with it because the things I was giving thanks for were sustaining me: my husband and kids, being blessed with a wonderful dog for nearly thirteen years, starting chorus again and being with friends.

Then we had yet another conference with our oldest son's teachers and principal. It went nowhere fast and we were met with hostility and arrogance from the principal and no answers for our son. There are some major issues with teaching practices and performance at our local elementary school. Throw in a kid with a couple disabilities, and you compound the problem. Throw in the fact that both of the kid's parents are teachers, then you really have a problem. After the conference I sat completely defeated. It all felt so hopeless. My brother-in-law who is not known for his intellect said one of the most profound things to me about being a parent: when your children are suffering and you can't help them, that's when you feel most vulnerable and it's the absolute worst feeling in the world. The changes that need to be made at this school, I can't effect alone. No matter how much complaining or conferences or emails I send, it won't matter so long as I'm the only one.

Okay, I now accept that. I have decided to no longer fight it. I have decided to put into practice what I can do at home to help my son. I have decided to channel my energy into alternative solutions for my kids. And it's so hard!! It's so very hard, and sometimes I don't feel thankful for anything on those days.

It's hard to feel thankful on days when you are abandoned by neighbors and friends and you have a very long driveway with two feet of snow and you are worried about your husband's health.

It's hard to feel thankful when the bills are piling up and your husband's contract has yet to be settled after over two years of negotiations.

It's hard to feel thankful when the worries become too big...

But that's why you do the journal, you force yourself into focusing on the good:

the neighbor who showed up with a shovel despite having a hernia

finally making a contact in the home school community

putting dinner on the table for your family when you just wanted to crawl under the covers

reading a funny book

the cat who's going strong at fifteen years old

the parents who put $500 in your bank account for a new snowblower

And then it keeps going. The bad is there. I still worry too much, but tonight before closing my eyes I will have written down five good things about my day. Five things to remind me that life isn't all that bad. Five things to remind me that there will be five things tomorrow and the next day to be thankful for.

It's been...a very...long week...

Tonight I lie on my couch while it snows outside, the beginning of a blizzard, with the three boys tucked snugly in bed, my husband at the local bar with friends, and my new puppy asleep beside me. Yes, already, a new puppy. Emotions are running rampant.

I had my heart set on a Great Bernese, a cross between a Great Pyrenees and a Bernese Mountain Dog. They are very expensive and the breeder I found was in Colorado, so tack on a $400 airfare fee. Our names went on the waiting list. It'd be a few months out, the perfect time to wait and grieve.

I'm not a dog shopper, typically. I'm usually a dog adopter. I felt a little guilty about "buying" a dog, so I looked around on some rescue websites. The first dog I saw was this cute little brown lab mix called "Holly the Pup." Let me back up a bit...

My oldest son who was having a really hard time with the loss of our dog spent the night of her death with my husband and me talking about passed loved ones. My husband and I both said our dogs are always with us, even if they now are in heaven. Our loved ones send us signs to let us know they are watching out for us, our own personal guardian angel dogs. I told him how when we got our Indiana, we didn't know anything about her, what kind of dog she was or even what color. We just said we'd take a puppy. As it turns out, she looked just like my dog Hollie from when I was a little girl. (You see where this is going, right?) And that was how I knew Hollie was looking out for me, by sending me Indiana.

So, this Holly the Pup shows up first on like three searches I ran, and I kept ignoring it, even though she was super cute. I didn't want a lab. I wanted a bigger dog. My husband wanted long hair. Then an email came through that a dog matched my search...it was her again. I inquired and filled out a short application. Do you know how competitive it is to rescue a puppy?  Hundreds of applications! I didn't like that. I don't want to compete to do good for a dog. The lady who reviewed my application called that night and left a message asking if we had a fenced in yard, which we do. I returned the message with a message that we did. The next day she called and said "Holly the Pup" was ours if we wanted her. She was saving her specifically for us because out of all the applications, she felt we were most suited to her. Suddenly, there we were on a cold Friday night in an overflow parking lot at the Cracker Barrel with three excited boys in the car waiting for a van to arrive from West Virginia, a partner rescue group with ours in New Jersey. I'm pretty sure we foiled a few drug deals and/or lady of the night exchanges while we waited, our own car rocking back and forth as the children could not contain their enthusiasm.

Puppies are hard work. They pee and poop a lot, and they don't care where they do it. They will eat ANYthing in front of them regardless of whether or not it is likely to kill them. And they bite! Hard! With very sharp teeth! I knew all of this. I've raised a puppy before. I've been around tons of puppies. I thought I was ready, and then...

That first night with her was obviously rough, and it didn't help that I woke up sick around midnight. I'm pretty good at feeling a cold coming on and will make my echinacea tea and take my vitamin C and zinc tabs to help fight off a cold. This hit me without warning, slowly but powerfully. I was okay over the weekend, but not feeling any better than that first night. Then Tuesday morning came, and threw me a whole new curve ball.

Last week, I fell off a chair. Yes, a chair. I went to sit down. I thought the chair was over farther than it was and only one butt cheek hit it, making it slide out even farther and I went down into a basket of magazines. My right elbow hit the knob of an antique sewing machine near the chair. It hurt. It bruised a little. But, I got over it pretty quickly because who wants to brag about falling off a chair and then having to convince people that no, I was NOT drinking.

This past Tuesday morning, my elbow started hurting me really badly. I couldn't put any pressure on it, and bending it started to hurt. The skin started to feel sensitive as well. So I looked in the mirror and there was a giant pimple on the tip of my elbow! A giant pimple! I will spare you all the oozy, gory details, but it got worse as the day went on. I thought about going to urgent care, but who goes to urgent care for a pimple on her elbow? Well, I do because the next day when I was getting ready for my shower and took off my nightgown, I looked in the mirror to find a brilliant red ring around the pimple four inches in diameter.

Apparently when I fell, the skin must have broken ever so slightly and bacteria got in causing an infection. It happens, so I'm told. I sat in the waiting room, getting sicker by the minute, my throat becoming sore and swollen and congestion building in my chest. Luckily with the pimple, I could forego the strep test and was put on a round of antibiotics that will hopefully knock all the crap out of me.

This. This with three little boys and a new puppy. And now a blizzard. A blizzard! And did I mention that I had the pup to the emergency vet today? I haven't even been able to research pet insurance and the dog vomited this morning and had mucus in her urine. She's fine now and has shown no signs of anything wrong since this morning. The vet is running a urinalysis to see if it's an infection. He kept saying that they never close, even in a blizzard! Good for you! I get that you are here all weekend, but that doesn't help me if I can't get to you! That's why I went to the emergency vet in the first place, because I was scared of waiting and having something happen during the blizzard. The blizzard! A frickin' blizzard when we went to Christmas Eve church service in shorts and t-shirts!

So, yeah, it's been a long week. I kept thinking about this blog and then about the laundry piling up and then about getting the entire house cleaned and eating five servings of fruits and veggies every day and yeah, it's just been a big fail.

But, my cold is better. My elbow is sort of better. Parts of my floor are very clean wherever I wipe up the pee. And when I feel sad or overwhelmed or lonely, I have a very cuddly puppy to scoop into my arms and make me feel better.

(Stay tuned for the next installment written by Ramsy, the fifteen year old cat who is not amused by the addition of yet another puppy.)