My Pajama Days

Summer is approaching, and I’m freaking out

Posted on May 23, 2013 by My Pajama Days

Monday night I pulled out a chart at a booster club meeting, to mark people’s responses for our end of the year banquet. It wasn’t very elaborate. There were columns for confirmed those that had confirmed “yes”, “maybe”, and “No reply”. As parents gave me checks and confirmations, I marked and initialed their name. The checks got put in an envelope, the check number noted next to the family’s name and everything was put in a file folder.

“And you wonder where your daughter gets her OCD from, ” chuckled one of my friends.

I paused for a moment. It never occurred to me to handle collecting banquet money any other way. It never crossed my mind to just hand random checks over to our treasurer. The only thought process I had was to collect all the checks, make sure I had a record of what the check numbers were and hand over everything together by the date of the event.

My house is a series of organized chaos. Although there are a few stacks and piles of what some might call family debris, I call organized future projects. Our classroom is the worst of all, especially as we finish this first school year at home and my curriculum for next year is starting to accumulate. Evenings are already being spent listing next year’s subjects, book ideas and possible field trips. I’m starting to worry that I’m going to forget to enjoy the summer and just spend the next three months obsessing about planning our school year. And rather than be excited about sleeping in, bathing in the sun or spending more time catching up on my reading and writing, I am freaking out about getting everyone to their summer camps, sports practices, friends houses and summer school studies. I’m already worried about what to pack for vacation and what to serve when family comes to visit. My heartbeat is pounding picturing myself getting into a pair of shorts or a bathing suits.

I am focused on the unwritten words, the unplanned projects, the disappointing weight gain and lack of motivation. In a moment of weakness yesterday, I went through the Dairy Queen drive through for a Heath Bar Blizzard without the kids, and ate the whole thing before I even got home. And when I opened my blog this morning, my heart sunk further seeing the rapidly decreasing readership and the ever-increasing half-written drafts that will probably never get published.

And, holy crap, I am reminded that I am running a 10k in 10 days and I haven’t run a mile in the last two weeks.

But then this morning, I decided to pour myself another cup of coffee and retreat to my bedroom with my laptop instead of start my morning chores. My bedroom window overlooks the front yard. The sunlight is puny, hiding behind rain-filled clouds, but the birds are still singing sweetly, unaware of the impending showers. I decided to write, write what ever came to mind, and try to purge my mind and spirit of any fragment of anxiety. Already my muscles feel more relaxed, my breathing seems less shallow, and the day seems lighter than before.

“Anxiety’s like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you very far.”
― Jodi Picoult, Sing You Home

Today I am linking up to yesterday’s Things I Can’t Say, but at least I’m linking something, right?

Posted in My Pajama Ponderings | Tagged anxiety, Dairy Queen, family life, finding motivation, Mental health, Obsessive–compulsive disorder, parenting, Things I Can't Say | Leave a comment

Alone on Mother’s Day

Posted on May 15, 2013 by My Pajama Days

“What do you want to do for Mother’s Day this year?” diligently asked DW. He knew his time was running out to take the girls shopping.

“I want to drink a bottle of wine, eat chocolate and scrapbook all day,” I said half-joking, “and have someone else clean the bathrooms.”

“What about dinner?” DW asked.

“Take-out,” I replied.

“Done,” he said.

Not one of my better “looks”, but certainly one fun event! It was my first Color Run.

On Saturday morning, I ran in a Color Run with two other moms. Their children are a lot younger than mine, preschool aged. Actually, they themselves are much younger than me and DW. So of course, as we ran the 5k, they were somewhat shocked that I didn’t have “big plans” for Mother’s Day. I also have a couple of cousins and friends with brand new babies that posted all of their sweet Mother’s Day pictures on Facebook.

Waking up Sunday morning, I knew the girls were busy making breakfast for me in the kitchen. I could hear the clinking and clanking of dishes and cabinets. Giggles and footsteps greeted me bedside, holding a tray of gluten-free pancakes, a bowl of fresh fruit and steaming mug of coffee. Both girls were beaming with pride at being able to make breakfast without dad’s help. DW had an early morning racquetball game. I ate breakfast in bed, snuggled my kids for a little while and then opened my presents when DW got home. They picked out a soft summer scarf for me, as well as a beautiful Brighton bracelet that had the words “trust yourself” engraved in silver. In addition, there was also a sweetly wrapped box of Godiva chocolates.

“For your wine and scrapbook day!” said The Hare.

For a minute, I started to miss the days of hand-made art projects and Mother’s Day outings. I suddenly pictured two little girls wearing pretty dresses and smiling at the camera. Perhaps I had been too hasty in wanting to spend this day quietly at home.

“What a perfect day,” I said, “perhaps there is something you would all like to do together? Or a restaurant we might try tonight?”

“Oh no!” both the girls croaked, “we are okay with take-out and staying home.”

The Tortoise had put off all weekend a mound of homework and The Hare had built a village of Littlest Pet Shop toys in her room. After breakfast, everyone went their separate ways and I was alone.

One of my scrapbook pages - thank you Studio J and Close to My Heart!

One of 40 completed pages that I created Sunday – thank you Studio J and Close to My Heart!

I had wine and ate my chocolates. I listened to my choice of music all day. I started and finished an entire photo album, 150 of my most favorite pictures from my brother’s wedding. All three of my bathrooms were cleaned, by someone else, and I got to eat my favorite Greek salad and loaded baked potato for dinner without any kids arguing about where to go eat or what to order.

And we were all home together.

It was the most perfect day.

Posted in My Pajama Ponderings | Tagged Chocolate, family, Littlest Pet Shop, mother's day, parenting, scrapbooking, Sunday | 13 Comments

Five Minute Friday: Comfort

Posted on May 10, 2013 by My Pajama Days

So many times writing prompts bring my thoughts to childhood memories. But lately, I seem to be slipping back into a time of suspended youth without prompting, meditating on a life already lived. I look at my children and wonder what memories they will hold on to for the rest of their lives.

I can still smell the sweet grape scents of the Mountain Laurel trees, and the rich perfume of floating magnolia flowers in the center of our kitchen table. I miss things like a house full of people eating my mother’s amazing food, drinking good wine and listening to jazz music. I close my eyes and I am transported back to a house that would take up only a fraction of the house my children live in today, rooms so close you could hear every conversation, feel every emotion. I wonder how long I’m going to consider Texas my home, even though I’ve now lived in Michigan for more than a decade. I am surprised at how comforting it is to remember pots of herbs and blooming Lantana bushes decorating my mother’s garden.

And then I realize, it isn’t the thinly leafed trees, or the hot summer sun that I cling to, it’s my family. I hold tight to so much from Texas because that is where I most picture my mom. And even though my parents have moved to Virgina, that place with the olive-green carpet, dingy linoleum and orange counter-tops, will always be a place that brought me the most comfort in my life.

Posted in My Pajama Ponderings | Tagged comfort, family, Five Minute Friday, Home, Mother | 9 Comments

A long drive home

Posted on May 9, 2013 by My Pajama Days

Standing on his doorstep, waiting, it felt like the whole summer had slipped away on the long drive home.

Summer vacation meant road trips and visiting extended family and friends. It meant sibling squabbles in the backseat over who got to sit next to the window, eating sugary cereal at sunrise on picnic benches and sweaty thighs sticking to vinyl seats. But that summer I had my own portable cassette deck and earphones. I had Depeche Mode and A-Ha. Best of all, I had a mix-tape from Him that was almost worn out by the time we made it back to San Antonio. Over and over I listened, searching for clues about his feelings. We weren’t really dating. He was mysterious and a little bit unpredictable, a repeat student. But his blue eyes held me captive in Creative Writing class, as his words wound their way around my naive heart.

We had kissed.

Once.

Maybe twice.

He lived alone with his dad and never talked about his mom. His dad encouraged our time together, made me feel like the most important person entering his home. My tightly permed curls, big puffy hair bows and white Keds were an uncomfortable contrast to the grey interior of their small apartment that smelled of cigarettes and take-out. Our last conversation played over and over in my mind, our feet dangling over the side of an old community pool, the blue-green water barely covering the peeling bottom. It was home to a swarm of mosquitoes.

“Call me as soon as you get back,” he said. A slanted smile and crooked tooth caught the shadow of a low afternoon sun. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”

I could hear his voice in my head as I spent the long drive home wishing for vacation to be over. Leaning against the window, my thoughts vibrated with the road. I sang silently every song on His mix-tape, letting R.E.M., Blue Oyster Cult and the Beatles lull me to sleep.

I didn’t care that he didn’t return my calls, or that his dad sounded so sad on the phone. I was home now. As I drove to his apartment, the feel of cloth seats, the breath of summer air and the grape smell of blooming Mountain Laurel rushing inside my car was a relief.

Surprising him would make our reunion all the sweeter.

Yet, the longer I stood on his doorstep, the shorter my drive felt, until finally his father opened the door. He smiled weakly, and for the first time, did not welcome me inside.

“He isn’t here,” he said.

“Oh,” I said disappointed, “Can you tell me when he’ll be back?”

“I’m so sorry, ” he replied, hands nervously playing with the door handle, “He left to get married, join the military and raise a baby.”

I stared at him in disbelief. The announcement hung in the air, hovering in my silence, as tears welled up in my eyes.

And then, I drove home.

*This post was inspired by Mama Kat, prompt #2 and Write at the Merge, week 19.

Posted in My Pajama Ponderings, Writing Prompts | Tagged broken hearts, childhood memories, creative writing, Depeche Mode, growing up, high school, Long drive | 13 Comments

I measure my success in smiles

Posted on May 8, 2013 by My Pajama Days

I’ll be honest. I wasn’t completely sure what home school would do to this household. Often what I think things will look like, and how they actually emerge, don’t fit exactly right. Many times I find myself chiseling away at the rough edges until things fall into place more easily. But I knew we needed to make some big changes in order to keep my youngest daughter, The Hare, from spiraling into a black hole of anxiety and depression. Her joy and passion for learning had succumbed to rigid rules, state educational regulations and the destruction of creative learning. She was lost and we needed to find her again.

DW had many questions and concerns initially, but once I did all my research and made a real plan of action, he was quickly my biggest advocate and supporter. It really boiled down to me making myself an ultimatum: succeed or else. There was no other alternative. The educational and emotional well-being of my youngest daughter was at stake. Plus, the overall environment of our family dynamics would be altered and home school would need to bring harmony not just to the youngest, but to everyone involved.

Not every day has been smooth sailing, we’ve created a few ripples and waves over the months. It took a while to figure out schedules, approaches and projects. Securing a community was also important and so was knowing when to take a break. However, we have ended up on the other side stronger and happier. There are but a few weeks left of school, and yet our brains are already thinking ahead to next year.

School in our pajamas.

Although I wasn’t completely sure what this educational adventure would look like, I was pretty sure it could be tangibly measured. Test grades, final projects, book reports and productivity would be our measure. I wanted a record of successes, a portfolio of progress, to justify our decision. I also wanted a child who could sleep through the night and get through a school day without panic attacks. I was optimistic I wouldn’t be dodging temper tantrums or flying objects any more. And although my daughter will never be long or lanky, I hoped she would learn to stand taller and be more sure of herself, less fearful.

Most of all, I longed for the days my sweet girl was excited about the morning rather than wishing she never had to wake up.

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of attending a writer’s conference, hosted by A Rally of Writers. As an added bonus, I got to go with a good friend. She is a parent of one of The Hare’s former classmates. I really enjoy her company, but recently have had few opportunities to talk in person. Most of our communication this year is through Facebook and email.

We hadn’t been on the road long before she said, “I’ll tell you what Emily, I can’t believe what a transformation there has been in your daughter.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, knowing it had been months since she had any interaction with my daughter.

“I mean, that every picture I have seen of her this year, she is smiling,” my friend said, “She is not the same kid that left public school last year. There is a light in her eyes that I don’t think I have ever seen before.”