What If's

There were many moments in my divorce that were pivotal, and at times, symbolic. One of the moments I found most poignant was during my ex's trip to return my belongings during the late summer just weeks after our divorce was final. Interestingly enough, this was the first time we had seen each other in person since he had said he wanted a divorce (after he'd met someone else). We had talked about where things were, and if we wanted to get back together. I had never, ever given up wanting to re-unite. Our feelings for each other had not changed at all, even despite our circumstances (he got another woman pregnant). He ended up coming to the realization that neither of us could endure the painful steps to get back together, especially having to reconcile with the people he had hurt along the way. His answer made me realize that I couldn't, either. We cried on the deck of his parent's house. We had spent time together with our sons as if no time or hurt had passed between us, but that wasn't enough to overcome the growing number of challenges that we would have had to face. I then loaded the kids and drove away, thinking that would be the last time I'd see him for a long while.

Strangely, fate would have us see each other one last time. The next day I saw his now familiar black Dodge pickup truck with the blue infantry cord hanging from the rearview mirror (that I had placed on his shoulder when he graduated from basic training) pull up to the stop sign near my parent's house at the exact same time as I did. Funny enough, I was on my way to photograph a friend's wedding. I learned later that he was on his way to golf with his dad. We both immediately noticed each other and stared wide-eyed as if we were looking at a car accident. As was his habit, he didn't have a turn signal on. I turned right, and he turned left. Our lives would take decidedly different paths, regardless of how we felt, and that was ok. It was everything I could do to maintain my composure through the ceremony, but I did, and it was a beautiful one.

It was one of those moments that felt like it was straight out of a movie script, but it was painfully real.

Today, that intersection is now a roundabout. I couldn't have invented a more perfect scenario on my own.

I've run over and over the entire thing, from when we met until when we parted thousands of times. I try to find answers to so many questions that, although have been "answered", still do not make concrete sense in my mind. Did he love me? Did I love him? Did I do something to deserve how he treated me? What if he hadn't gone into the Army? What if I had pressed him more to go to counseling after the war? Did I marry him just to get out of Idaho and away from hurtful people in my life? What if I'd joined in the drinking and seen past his fears and helped him find healing? What if we hadn't gone to the flight program? Were we married too young?  What if I had finished my degree first? What if I had not gotten sick after my first pregnancy? The list goes on and on.

The funny thing about roundabouts is that you could choose to go around and around, never stopping, never going anywhere. Or, you could choose to glide out of it as easily as you steered into it.

Lately, I've been choosing the latter. The first couple of years of the heartbreak left me going around in circles and spinning my wheels, but lately I've been rejoicing in how far I've come, and how blessed I am. I do not have the same emotional baggage that others in this situation have the burden of carrying. I know that I handled the situation the very best I could, and I wouldn't change a single thing. I have the joy of knowing I am raising my children in a safe, loving environment free from fighting and sleepless nights worrying about where my husband is. I'm free to return to school and finish what I started. I'm free to raise my sons where we grew up and with the comfort of a home that God has provided for us in the most beautiful place I can imagine. I have the blessing of being friends with my former-in-laws and having them be an active part of my children's lives on even a daily basis (even bringing us soup when we are sick!). I have the most wonderful church community, friends and family that a woman could ever ask for. I'm even free to fall in love again - the real kind. I know what that feels like, and I know I'll find it again. My eyes and heart are open.

By focusing on my desired destination, I'm more apt to get there.

Delayed Goals

This past semester in college was tough, and it made me frustrated and ineffective. Being a full-time mother of three young boys AND a full-time college student wasn't in my abilities. I was trying to get my pre-requisites accomplished to take part in the cohort this summer, a 7:30am-5pm intensive course for education, but I just couldn't get it all done in the short amount of time I was given. I was full-time last summer, too, and felt thoroughly burned out.

This led me to a place I am extremely unfamiliar with - I didn't achieve the goal I set out to conquer.

Feelings of inadequacy, hopelessness and disappointment overwhelmed me for much of Christmas break and into the new semester, and I lost focus on what was important. God knew this would happen. He sees everything that happens in my life. It was no surprise to my creator, and He will use ALL things for the good of those who love Him (me), so why was I fretting so much?

As long as I keep moving forward and putting my children first, everything will come together in His time. Now I get a true summer BREAK with my boys. All I have is a couple of courses online to accomplish, and I won't be stuck there for the majority of the day. This also gives me time to save money for next summer's cohort. Childcare for one child full-time is going to be about 1500.00 per month.....! That is 3,000.00 for just two months of my kids being cared for while I work. Praying that it all comes together at that point! I know, however, that if God means for me to be a teacher, it will happen.

For now, I can effectively manage what has been put before me, and have time to truly enjoy my sons in this rapidly changing phase of their lives. My oldest is being registered for both t-ball and Kindergarten this week. This has been a time I've looked forward to with such anticipation!

Doing my best to continue to take one day at a time, advancing my possibilities and staying focused on my ultimate goal - being obedient to God's will for my life with my every step.

Easier?!?

I was talking to a close friend of mine who had a 3 year old, 2 year old, 1 year old and then triplets, and asked her when life with multiples would get easier.

"Oh, at 3. 3 is definitely easier."

The other day, I went over to her house asking her if indeed she was mistaken, because I'm telling you.... three is NOT easier. She acquiesced that it's actually 5. I laughed in response - likely when they're 5 I'll go to her and she'll say 7.

I've decided, parenting never gets "easier". It just changes.

When the twins were little, I can vividly remember wondering how I would even make it through the day. From having to sanitize bottles, to enduring screaming for no apparent reason, to constantly disrupted sleep, I thought I'd seen the worst parenting had to offer. Of course, the incredible love I felt for these precious children outweighed any difficulty, but I did have my moments questioning my abilities as a mother.

But, as they get older, I've noticed that life with children only gets busier and more complicated! The little blessings given to me by God are now growing into little people, with very lively personalities and energy that shames any electric power plant. I find myself running, running, running after three little busy Tazmanian devils wooooooshing their way through my house and yard, disrupting everything in their path, and at the end of the day there is very little energy left to accomplish tasks *I* want to finish.

It's what I call "survival mode".

Everyone always says, "Ah, childhood. It goes by so fast! Don't blink, or you'll miss the most cherished years of your child's life." I believe them. Some Fridays I wonder where the week went! Although school, house cleaning, social and work obligations pull on me from every different direction, I refuse to let my own comfort affect the time I spend with my children.

I still pause with them to smell one of the fantastic roses from the garden, pick strawberries, play with trucks in the sand, and even challenge them to a game (or two) of Mario Kart. I want my children to know me. To cherish our relationship. To be able someday to come to me with their troubles and feel safe enough to talk them out.

Yesterday I had a little victory with Will. He hit his brother in an argument over an Ironman mask, and I sent him to time out for 5 minutes for the action, explaining again the importance of keeping our hands to ourselves after an argument. About halfway through his punishment, he said, "Mommy, I still love you even when I'm on time out."

Sigh. He understands.

It will be challenging, painful and even soul-wrenching at times, but I'm so grateful that God saw me fit to be a mother to these sweet boys, even if it is all by myself.

"Filing" Criticism.

A year ago, I decided to start this blog, and didn't have much of a purpose except to get some feelings out that were holding back single moms, and to change some minds. Alaina Sheer, also known by the pseudonym Ms. Single Mama, encouraged me on this first post, and later added me to her list of "Approved" blogs, which was one of the things that actually kept me writing. There were so many times I wanted to quit. Having 20 readers was discouraging, because I felt like my voice didn't matter. But, as the blog has evolved, I have felt it was most important to give encouragement to single mothers, regardless of who read what I had to say. Just openly sharing my daily experiences, showing that as imperfect as our lives may be, we CAN make something great of what we have and give our children our very best became my heart's desire.

I've learned through much trial and MUCH error, that it's the voice in my heart that matters most. And, as long as that voice is directed by God's principles, for me, I've had wonderful peace to enjoy as a result of making choices that have "purpose". Not just aimlessly weighing pros and cons of each choice, trying to reason out what would be the "smartest" course, but truly going where my heart for God and passion for His purposes both take me.

People often ask how I accomplish everything I do during any given week. One of the answers is that I'm not obsessive about how clean my house is... and if you'd visit me you'd likely find the living room strewn with toys and dishes in the sink. That's reality. I'm not perfect, but I'm living MY life to the best of MY ability. Choosing MY priorities. I'm gradually easing myself into total self-sufficiency, and have a great deal of blessings and wonderful people who help get me there. My family, friends and people who have had spiritual influence have all contributed to what I've achieved, and nothing I've done would have even been possible without them. One step at a time, I'm gradually improving my heart and my life after devastating loss. "It isn't for the moment you are struck that you need courage, but for the long uphill climb back to sanity and faith and security."--Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I've been criticized over the years, and told by MANY outsiders what I "should" or "should not" do, and for a long time I berated myself and stopped believing in what I was capable of due to these influences. I've been told everything from, "You should give up your twins for adoption," to "You have such a beautiful family, you are very blessed" (from people who don't know I'm single) "You should home school your kids,"to "You should have them in daycare all day every day and get a job," to "You should never date" or "You'll be married in a year, I just know it!" to "You should never accept help, it shows your weakness," to "God is providing for your every need, don't feel needy, feel grateful." Every different end of the spectrum on every different topic concerning my life. I welcome advice, mostly because I'm curious about the true thoughts of others (which is often revealed through so-called helpful advice) but it can be overwhelming to process. Where to file it, if you will.

I've learned to take 90% of the things that come out of the mouths of others and file it in the "circular bin".... the trash. When it comes to the complexity of each human life, what shapes us and drives us, how could ANYONE truly understand us in a deep personal way (except God) ? Our strengths, weaknesses, secret prayers, goals.... these are all things that get muddled with changing circumstance. Yet, there is something of permanence inside each of our souls - something that DRIVES us in a larger sense. Something so unshakably true that we ARE this something... whatever that may be. The quieter we are, and the more we listen to this deep, personal part of our heart, the more we live from our heart instead of our flesh (or our simple reactions to our environment and history). That other blessed 10% that is heartfelt, Godly wisdom meant to help us improve or see things we don't see ourselves, I file in my mind to evaluate when I am ready. I'll have quiet time with God and just let Him direct me to the solutions to these "problems".

One of the sources I find for increasing the peace in my daily life has come from books. One of the most influential people in my life (next to the members of my own family) has been Daryl Kraft, who has become like family to me. At times in my life that I couldn't even breathe without feeling pain, he and his wife Sherryl took it upon themselves to help me to see the hope in my circumstances, and the glorious gifts God has given me. As a successful business owner and his wife who is actively involved in the community, they had so little free time, but set aside time to help me in my worst, and laugh with me during my success.

If I had listened to my critics, I wouldn't have this blog with over 300 dedicated readers and hundreds of page visits daily. I wouldn't have my darling children that I love more than life itself. I wouldn't be in school. I wouldn't have the boys in preschool, which they LOVE and has been such a help to my parenting. I wouldn't be exactly where I am today, and I'm SO thankful I listened to the voice in my heart instead of outside influences.

The Great Childcare Debate

I'm in a bit of a pickle... and I know it's one many of us moms share. Life is so full of challenges and obstacles, and it's our challenge to respond to them gracefully and prayerfully.

I've been under a lot of pressure from people I know about my decision to "ship my children off" for any amount of time to a preschool, AND for going to school. It has weighed heavily on me that they would not approve of my desire to achieve something for myself, and that they feel I would be somehow "harming" the boys to have them in another person's care for a grand total of 9 hours a week.

I was planning on going to school online (so if my kids were sick, I could be home with them, but still have time to complete my coursework without having any interruptions and do my internship time in classrooms), and was told that the state would subsidize my childcare (or pay a percentage to help me out). Unfortunately, that just might not happen. Apparently because it's online, and not in a classroom every day, (even though I'm taking ten credits) I may not qualify. At least, not without an appeal. That leaves me another month or two away from the POSSIBILITY of having help paying for 3 hours of preschool 3 days a week, which will cost me an astronomical amount of money.

I'm scared!

I don't think I can handle ten credits, one of the classes being CHEMISTRY, on my own. I'm in a very precarious situation, and just praying my way through it.


As much as I pray my way through it, until some of these things get resolved and I know where I'm up against, I'm going to be struggling somewhat.

Man, if only that "Easy" button from Staples REALLY existed! ;)

I'm confident that this is EXACTLY where God wants me. That gives me the strength to overlook the naysayers and accomplish my goals regardless of the negativity and desire to control. I feel a peace about my direction, but the process is not without its rocks and bumps. I have overcome so much... and this is just another one of the million bumps in my life road.

Now to just wait for Tuesday with the results of whether or not I qualify for childcare assistance.... and then decide where to go from there.

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. :)