Choosing the right thing... harder than it looks.

I love being alone.

I like being able to choose whatever I want for dinner. I like to cuddle up in ugly pajamas and even uglier knee-socks to enjoy some hot cocoa and alone time before the kiddos wake up to watch the Today Show and giggle at Al Roker and his cheesy jokes in the morning. I enjoy the fact that no one bothers me if I want to work on a scrapbooking project on the dining room table. I love having my kiddos all to myself, and that I get to go on endless adventures with them every single day. Their innocence and curiosity keep my heart going on days I thought it wouldn't, simply because I am able to listen in the quiet moments of their day.

That being said...

I hate being alone.

I know, I'm a walking dichotomy. Maybe it's that I try to see the silver lining in every situation. It could be that I'm nuts. Or, it could be that I want to be ok with my circumstances, because I know it is best for my kids for the time being.

I hate going to bed without anyone to talk to about the day. I hate not having anything to look forward to except bed time. I hate not having another life to share vicariously and not having someone to support and encourage that speaks in full sentences. I even hate not having to pick up giant clothes off the bathroom floor.

There are few things in life that I hate more than being lonely. If I'm not helping someone, getting to know someone or laughing with someone, I feel empty. It goes completely against my nature.

That being said, I spend a lot of time alone lately.

Between caring for the kids (who make me VERY un-alone, but VERY stressed at times with such a demanding myriad of needs), school, keeping up a household by myself, and working on photo shoots and other projects... I feel pushed to my anti-social limit. Although I want to get out and date, I have to do so sparingly. Taking time away from the kids is virtually impossible at the moment. They're going in a million directions at once, and they cooperate much like the velociraptors in Jurassic Park. Going into any situation as a team, they quickly detect weaknesses in their care providers and get into all kinds of trouble, making babysitters tougher to come by than if there were fewer (or even better behaved) children. At the moment, I'm not sure whether to give up entirely on the pursuit or to attempt yet another waste-of-time date. After so many men declaring their true intentions either by action or words, it all seems like a cruel joke. The only guys I can "count on" in my life are the little ones. My three saboteurs.

So, in the meantime, I choose alone-time. I'm on hiatus.

I am old and wise enough to know that this is just a season, and I am content with that. I've found wonderful ways to cope, and I'm learning more of them every day. Favorite of these strategies: always having a book in hand. It's amazing how much your heart can be contented by a good story and interesting dialogue. That, and having an overactive imagination can be more entertaining than real life.

What are your coping strategies for loneliness?

And, when they're sick...

For me, there are a few things that are more painful to endure as a single mom than as a married mom, and one of the worst is definitely illnesses with my children. They are so pitiful, and my energy is drained more rapidly than I could ever imagine. I recently "survived" 5 days with less than 2 hours of sleep per night because of a bad reaction to their vaccines. It was nothing short of a disaster. Here is a peek into what happened:

First, the trip to the doc's office - where it all began. It was a typical check-up/shot visit, and I thought all was well. Of course, the kiddos knew they were about to get something less than cool.

Shane knows something is amiss.... regardless of my efforts to comfort him.

So, then I notice the tray that the nurse brought in... and it was so shocking I had to take a picture of that, too.

What you are seeing is TEN syringes. TEN. Yeah - didn't realize that was going to happen. Oops. Good thing I gave them Motrin before they arrived.

So, I decided my best course of action at this point was to hold them tightly and repeatedly kiss them and rub their back while they were getting the shots. SCREAMING ENSUES. Screaming like they're dying. Great. Congrats, Mom!

Now, while most parents have to do this with one child, I have to take the other twin, who just watched his brother writhing in pain and who is still currently screaming, and convince him to experience the same thing. The nurse and I are laughing, because now Matt is hiding under the chair and covering his eyes. It isn't really all that funny, I guess. No, it really was. Guess  you had to be there. So, now that they are both screaming, I do what any good mom would do - I take a picture of them to save for posterity.

Shane STILL whining (which is why next time I'll have him go last) and Matt quite upset about his inability to hide effectively.

The nurse tells me, "Take your time. You don't have to rush out of here with both of them screaming. It might scare the other kids." So, I just hang out with them for awhile until the worst of the pain subsides. Hugs, kisses, rocking, and they're good to go in about five minutes, though clearly irritated by the whole experience.

Picking off their band-aids.

So, I take them home and they sleep all day. BONUS! I was able to get a ton of housework done, and then the rest of our week resumes as normal.

One week later, however.... Matt and Shane start to act up. They're yelling and hitting, which is so uncharacteristic of their nature, and throwing some pretty wretched tantrums. It's difficult for me to understand what is happening, because it is a day just like any other day. They slept enough, took their naps, and were still belligerent. Then I notice Matt feels slightly warm. I don't think much of it. I attribute it to teething because it is so slight, and I go to Bible study as usual.... leaving the two little ones with the babysitter. Halfway through the study I get a panicked call followed by panicked texts from her saying that Matt is now inconsolable. She's normally very capable and never calls unless it is an emergency, so I was alarmed. I rushed home as soon as it was over, and THAT was when the TORTURE began.

All that night, Matt only wanted to be held and rocked. He's 31 pounds now, so it's no easy feat. Especially with my back problems. I've had chronic pain in my lower back for years, and standing while rocking a child is particularly rough on me. But, because he needs me, I'm there. For hours. His temperature spiked to 103, and he refused the medicine. He NEVER had done this before. So, I put my best "Mom" on, and hold him down, placing the dropper at the back of his gums and hold him down while he screams, slowly dispensing the liquid to make sure that the fever comes down. I put him in the bath, which is another area he is ok with, and re-dress him in lighter PJ's. I rock him again, and he lulls to sleep. Eventually he is tired enough that he lets me lay in my bed and hold him without waking up completely, but I still don't sleep for fear that he will fall out of bed or that I would miss something important to keep him cared for. So, I stare at my ceiling until 4am, waking up at 6 to Shane beginning to scream.

Day 1: Both of the twins now have what I will affectionately call the "Screaming Fever". I call the doctor's office, and they give me the guidelines by which I should take them in, and describe how I should treat the symptoms in the meantime. They assert it is probably a reaction to their shots. Great. So, it is tepid baths, lots of liquids and fever management with Tylenol or Motrin. Trouble is, the kids refuse to take it all of a sudden, so this becomes much more difficult than it sounds. I decided to use it only when their temperature was 101 or above. As with Matthew the night before, all they wanted to do was be held. By himself. So, when I held both they hit each other and fought, but when I held one at a time, the other screamed and kicked and wailed at my feet. This also created a jealousy issue with William, who suddenly developed the same need. (*insert cynical laugh here*) I rocked them most of the day, one after the other, with the other two screaming. In-between these rocking sessions, I had to dispense two screaming children's dose of Motrin. FUN TIMES.

Repeat night number one, this time with TWO children. Two hours of "sleep" later, I wake up, make my coffee, and start day three. THIS TIME, with William having a fever as well.

Night three is pure hell. I don't know how else to describe it. I have already lost two nights of sleep, so I am exhausted, and I begin to really lose it. Now the kids aren't the only ones crying. Normally, for a married person, the husband may take pity on the crying wife and offer to help - even a little bit. I don't have ANYONE. NO ONE. Not even someone to complain to or to tell me everything will be OK. I just have to endure.

Day three wake up is a doozy. I feel like I'm the walking dead, and coffee does nothing to revive me. I think, surely Matt will be better today, but NO. The day continues as the day before it and I have accepted that I may never sleep again. AND, I have a term paper due at the end of the day. Double great. The kids suddenly take an interest in the Cars movie, and allow me to finish editing my paper to be submitted. Success!

Night four is worse than the others. The kids are SO tired and belligerent now because the illness has taken its toll, and I'm more frustrated than ever. I rock, I pat, I console and try to treat the kids in their own beds. Of course, I end up sleeping on the kids' beds in shifts. So comfortable.

Day four wake-up, and I've given up. I stay in my PJ's all day. Thankfully, Matt's fever is completely gone, and he starts to act human. Cue night five. Misery with two kids now instead of three.

Day five. Shane is better, Will is not. I am toast. Day continues, I don't remember ANY details, and I go to bed with hopes of sleep. Unfortunately, the twins have really really liked it in my bed, and both crawl in with me screaming at 2 in the morning, knowing that this has gotten them rocked in the middle of the night during days past. In an effort not to wake Will up, and losing any strength to "tough love" them back into their beds, I give up and hold them and let them sleep with me. I still get the same 2 hours of sleep because Will isn't quite better yet.

Now, after night six of insufficient sleep... I feel sick when I wake up on day six. I have to abandon all plans for the day, again, and stay home trying to recover. I go into town later in the day to roll into Dutch Brothers for their 911 latte and to enjoy the effect that a 5 point harness has on each of my kids. I suck down the 4 shot + coffee drink and it barely makes a dent into my energy level. After dragging myself back home, I realize that if I don't sleep tonight, I may need to do the unthinkable... calling for help from a friend or relative. They help me when they can, and have busy lives of their own, so I am careful not to inconvenience them whenever possible.

Night seven. I sleep. I have finally woken up feeling slightly human. Today I am thankful for sleep.

The end.

Kidding! I'm tired. I'm tempted to end it there, but here's a better summary: The moral of this story is.... if you know a single mom, she will rarely ask for help. The best kind of help is the kind that goes unasked for. Drop by a frozen meal, have her over for dinner, call her to lend an ear to her day and her dilemmas, or even offer to watch the kids so she can get to the grocery store without screaming kiddos in tow. These are all things that have meant a lot to me from the amazing friends I have. Most especially, when her kids are sick, PRAY for her. It's scary, it's isolating and it's painful. I'm very lucky to have such a wonderful support system, but if I didn't... I can only imagine how I would handle these circumstances. If we bless each other by encouragement and help when it is needed, we all win. :)

Happy with an unwritten future...?

After two years of torture, I'm finally on my way. I'm in school, I own my car outright, I'm in a wonderful home that is feeling more and more like my own every day, I have wonderful family and wonderfully supportive, funny and loyal friends, and my babies are becoming little boys. Even though I've gotten myself to a place where I'm now spiritually, intellectually and physically comfortable... I am still hurting.

Eight years of being with someone who you trusted implicitly, who ultimately betrayed you in the most horrific ways.... every one you could ever imagine and NEVER expected... you're left a little (LOT) gun-shy of relationships. And, you freak out. A lot. My typical number of dates before I abandon a potential relationship entirely is ONE. One! When I feel a significant amount of potential, I last about three dates. Then, I expect too much. When I start to feel something for someone... I really start to panic. I don't like that feeling one bit. I say to myself, "It didn't end well the first time, so why should it end well this time? SELF PROTECT!" What on earth ever happened to living one day at a time, taking things as they come, and just learning to RELAX?!?!

Part of the problem is how intensely I feel for my boys. I want to protect THEM, most of all. I don't want them to go without a father forever. I also don't want to bring someone into my life, and spend time with said man instead of them, all for nothing. However, I can't simply sit around and expect a guy to break my door down and sweep me off my feet. It's a difficult position to be put into! These are the times I get most angry at my ex, even though I have long since forgiven him, because I'm forced to walk this tightrope of dating/staying home. They deserve so much more than what I can give them by myself, though, and I'm definitely not a guy... so when it comes time for "guy talks", I want them to have someone to rattle things off to who truly knows them inside and out. I also want this person to be someone who makes my heart skip a beat, who can keep up with me intellectually, and is a reliable, loyal, good man. Seems impossible so much of the time.

My prayer lately has been something to this effect:

Dear Heavenly Father.... I'm on my way to the rest of my life. I am following your directives. Please help me to not freak out so much. My heart can't take the rollercoaster anymore. I need a break from my emotions. I want to be comfortable wherever you have me, and in whatever circumstances you place me in. Please help me to undertake challenges and surprises with dignity and grace.
Thanks,
Erin


As with everyone else, I am a work in progress. I spend time self-evaluating and even more time in prayer. I just want to do what God has for me, quietly, with joy and a strong, almost tangible, sense of faith. So, I'm going to continue to keep putting one foot in front of the other, praying for each day one at a time, and not getting ahead of myself. I am confident that God will continue to use my circumstances to develop even more strength, wisdom and patience, and that's a freeing feeling. I don't need to over-analyze or waste energy getting scared or upset. It will happen, when it happens. All I can do is sit patiently and smile, knowing that God has something far better for me this time than he did the last.

The passage I'm studying and praying about this week:

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? "And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:25-34