Ups, downs, ins, outs, & what-have-yous.

Yesterday I received a package from my dear friend and college roomie, Kristin.  Accompanying a sweet birthday card was a journal - The Happiness Project: A One-Sentence Journal for Mothers.  I have to say, it's one of the most thoughtful gifts I think I have ever received.

As a Mom, I try to grasp and savor sweet memories while trying to remember who's diaper I changed and which kid already got his milk.  And I'm often so busy recording things about the boys that I don't often have the chance to record my own thoughts and feelings.

A big part of my struggle with postpartum depression and anxiety has been a loss of sense of self.  Over the past year and a half, I feel like I've come so far in my ability to recognize the importance of taking time for myself before I get to a breaking point.

But the reality of motherhood is that sometimes there just isn't time.  Going shopping alone takes time.  Having a night out with the hubby or the girls or alone takes time.  More sleep takes time!  So we have to turn to quicker things -- things that give us small outlets until we can feasibly take that time for ourselves.

That's what I love about the concept of this journal -- it's just one sentence.  To take the time to write just one sentence about the day is totally and completely doable.  And there is something so therapeutic about reading my own journals.  So I was quite excited to embark on this journey.  One sentence a day.  No problem.

Yesterday I was feeling really good.  Actually, lately I've been feeling really good, but yesterday I actually noticed it.

I felt like I actually accomplished some things.  Not just one thing, but several.  For once I felt like I was thismuchcloser to getting caught up around the house.

The boys played together pretty well.  There was minimal chaos, they played fairly independently, and I didn't have to break up too many death matches or stop more than a few death-defying acts.

Brian worked late and I handled bath and bed and cleaning up the house solo ... and smoothly.  When he came home I was happily crafting a little wall art for the kitchen and I happily proclaimed my successes for the day.

Last night, in my journal I wrote these words -- " Today I finally felt successful - as a mother, a wife, a housekeeper, a teacher, a friend."

Today was so.incredibly.different.

The Brothers woke up early.  And angry.  I packed the diaper bag for a planned play date while we waited for Brennan to wake up.  Of course, the ever-early-riser slept late, pushing us a bit behind schedule and making an already bumpy morning even bumpier.  Every step to get them dressed and into the car was quadrupled in time and difficulty.  Everything I did was met with resistance and anger.

Thankfully, my friend Lisa and I do "kiddo swaps" in which she watches the boys for a few hours for me and the next day I watch her kiddos for her.  So I was able to enjoy some time to myself, exploring a new grocery store and regrouping for the day.

When I returned to Lisa's house, Beckett clung to me.  Kiernan tried to push Beckett off of my lap while Lisa and I ate lunch.  Loading them into the car was even more challenging than it had been on the way to Lisa's.  They whined the whole way home, clung to my legs while I tried to unpack the groceries, threw tempter tantrums at nap time, and threw their sippy cups of milk at the wall/my face.

Brennan refused a nap and resisted quiet time.  The Brothers woke after only 1.5 hours of sleep with even more anger/clinginess.  By 4:30, my house was a disaster, the Brothers were only happy if I was holding them - both of them - while standing, Brennan had cut a hole in his shirt and "accidentally" colored his hands purple with a marker, and I had nothing planned for dinner.

I called Brian and requested that he make coming home a priority.  I finally got Brennan and Kiernan to sit and watch some Team UmiZoomi, strapped Beckett on my back in the Boba, and started to put laundry away in my bedroom so that I could feel just a tiny bit productive.

When Brian came home, I left.  I thank God every day for a sympathetic husband.  He jumped in and took over, no questions asked.

I wandered around Joann Fabrics and Target and sat at Starbucks to clear my head.  I started thinking about what I would write in my journal tonight, and the first thing that came to mind was -- "Today I just couldn't please anyone, including myself."

What struck me about this was the lack of hopelessness & the lack of feeling like a failure.  When I had this kind of a day a year ago, it would've taken me days, if not weeks to rebound.  But now, I know how to cope.  I know how to ask for "me" time.  I know that tomorrow is a new day and that it could be like yesterday, or it could be like today, but chances are, it will be somewhere in between.  And I'm cool with the in between.  

I think that's what is great about this journal.  The ability to see that my emotions are constantly changing and that no matter how bad it gets, it always gets better, is nothing short of miraculously calming.  And the opportunity to take a few moments in a day to reflect on the past, learn from the present, and focus on the future -- in one sentence -- is equally as calm

Something. Anything.

My fingers are hovering over the keyboard, itching to type.

Type something.

Type anything.

But my brain is firing too many things, too quickly.

I have so many things I want to write, yet I can't sort them out enough to make sense of any of them.

So where does that leave us?

With a flight of ideas post, friends.  'Cuz everybody loves bullet points ... or at least I do.

Why, yes, our child was about to launch his cup at his Daddy's head.  And we hadn't even pulled out of my in-laws' driveway yet.  Serenity now.  

ch-ch-ch-changes.

Well hey.  Remember when I was going to go do the dishes and then go to bed?

Dishes are done, but I've been battling a migraine-ish headache for a few days now and I couldn't sleep.  So I thought I'd get up and be productive.

Then I decided that I didn't feel like being productive, so I sat down and started to work on the ol' blog.

I like it.  I think I might still tweek some things, but I like it.

It feels fresh and clean and new.  And that's just what I'm in the mood for these days.

And while I was at it, I went ahead and splurged on my own domain name.  It was a whole $10 for the year.  I know, I'm a big spender.

The moral of the story is that you can now find me at www.imflyingsouth.com.  If you're not much for change, the old blogger URL should work just fine as well.  Personally, I'm all about shortcuts, so not having to type the "blogspot" part is exciting to me.  Laziness at it's finest.

If something is misspelled, hard to read, just plain ugly ... please feel free to let me know.  I'm still playing around with it, but at this moment I know that I can sleep, so I'm out for the night.

Sleep tight!

I'm still alive ... barely.

I'm just being dramatic.  

I'm fine.  

I've been working my arse off around my house trying not to let it fall down and keep it's occupants alive.  

The mister has been home for only 3 of the last 16 days.  He finally comes home tomorrow and has no more business trips planned for the near future.  That I know of anyway.  Hallelujah.

Being a single parent is hard ya'll.  And I only have to do it for a relatively short period of time and don't have to worry about that whole making money thing.  I just hand over the plastic for what we need and at some point somebody pays the bill.  

(And then that person complains about how much money we spend on food.  Dude.  We have 3 boys.  It's just going to get worse.  I'm sure I'll end up working 3 jobs someday in order to feed them.)  

Anywho, semi-singleparenthood sucks.  We get out and have friends over and keep busy and they do entertaining shit like decide that they hate clothes and love accessories and insist on wearing nothing but diapers, socks, shoes, and sunglasses.   My kids are awesome.  

Apparently something about January 17 just STINKS.

Yesterday I awoke to a little foot full of poop stuck in my face.

"Moooooom!  Wake up!  It's a 'mergency!  There's poop on my foot!"

Uggggggghhhhhhh.

While I scrubbed the crap from between his toes, Brennan informed me that his doggies had pooped in the family room.  So while he enjoyed some milk and TV in my warm snuggly bed, I scrubbed dog diarrhea out of the family room rug and followed some little poopy footprints around the rest of the house armed with my spray bottle and paper towels.  Thank God for tile floors.

Then the brothers woke up with giant diapers full of reminders of everything they had eaten the previous day.   Once we were all cleaned up, we headed outside to play.  I started picking up dog poop while the boys played in the gravel pit.  3 large dogs + a small backyard = lots of poop to pick up in order to avoid messes.  But of course, Kiernan managed to find a pile that I hadn't gotten to yet.  A fresh pile, I might add; one that must have felt nice and squishy between his toes.

"Moooooom!  It's a 'mergency!  Brother is stepping in pooooooop!  And he's laughing!"

Uggggggghhhhhhh.

2 trips to the bathroom to scrub shit from between little toes ... all before noon.  All I could smell for the rest of the day was poop, no matter how much I scrubbed or lit candles or shoved kleenex up my nose.  Whether I was wiping bottoms or not, I couldn't get the smell out of my nose.  So I called the hubby and demanded that he rent a carpet cleaner on the way home and what little carpet and few rugs that we do have in our house were cleaned before the boys went to bed.

After the boys were in bed and the dishes were washed and the house was clean, I still smelled it.  I headed to the shower to wash away the stank from the day and when it entertained the idea of shoving soap up my nose to wash it clean, it occurred to me that I'd written something about that before.

I searched my archives to find this post, written exactly one year to the day earlier than yesterday.

Apparently something about January 17 just STINKS.

Hello.....

::knock knock::

Anyone still there?

Honest to God, life is simply insane lately.  We got a ton of stuff accomplished yesterday and yet the list still remains 12 miles long.  And in 2 days I get on a plane to head back to the mitten (yes, again) to start another semester of classes.  ::gag::

My therapist tells me that I'm dealing with it "quite well".  I feel like I'm not dealing with it at all.  Who knows who's right.  Maybe a little of both?

Truthfully, I'm just in a funk.  I'm crawling out of it and I think that my solo trip to Michigan will allow me the time to clear my head and come back refreshed.  I'm going to consider it my vacation from my vacation.  And hopefully get caught up on a crap ton of writing.  Because that's something else my therapist tells me to do.

Anxious.

ohhhhhhh boy am I feelin' it.

There's too much to do and too little time and the days feel short and never-ending at the same time.

Today was supposed to be dedicated to cleaning and instead my house is more of a mess than it was this morning.  Instead of cleaning it took all I could do to just keep it together today.  By the time Brian walked in the door this evening I could feel the anxiety bubbling up in my throat and I knew I just had to get out.

A stroll around Home Depot and Publix did me a world of good.  I just needed to be out.  Out of the clutter and chaos and noise.  Alone in my thoughts.  Not responsible for anyone or anything but myself.  I count my blessings every day for a husband who can just pick up where I left off so that I can flee when I feel it rising.

The next few days are going to be tough for me.  There are too many thoughts spinning around in my head and no matter how many lists I make or how I try to organize it all on a calendar, it just doesn't stop.  Things will be forgotten or just plain skipped and there isn't much I can to about it other than to remind myself to just give it to Jesus.  I'm so not good at that.

Instadump {12.17.2012}..

I have zero time to blog lately, but I'm aching to write.  So instead, I'll dump all my Instagram pics for the last 2 weeks on you.  You're welcome.

Chairs.  Food.  Germs.  We share it all in this family.  Until we don't want to and then we beat/bite each other.

Bounce house = baby heaven.  But only after the big kids are out of it.  Otherwise, bounce house = OMGthey'retryingtokillme!!!!

In this moment.

Today was one of those days that just seemed like it would never end.  

I have 2394723 things on my to-do list and just can't seem to cross off even ONE.  As soon as I clean up one mess, another appears.  I try to sit down to work on school work and someone starts screaming.  I try to do some laundry and someone is wrapped around my leg begging for something.  Everyone is sick and some are teething and others are just ... needy.  I just feel like there isn't enough of me to go around.  

And after several days of doing everything for everyone except for myself, I just can't do it anymore.  I call Brian at 4:30 and tell him it's time to come home before I lose it.  I know my breaking point now, and I'm almost there.  I just need 5 minutes to myself.  That's all.  5 minutes.

I have a new blog follower (HI SAMANTHA!) so I guess I should actually blog.

Creepy?  Eh, whatev.

So..... I have been a just plain shitty blogger lately.  

I have 12 half finished drafts sitting in my computer, twiddling their thumbs, waiting to be finished.  Or at least they would be if drafts had thumbs.  In my head I picture them as pieces of paper with Sponge Bob-esque arms.  No, I'm not drinking.  Or smoking.  Or sniffing anything.  I just don't talk to adults for most of the day so my mind tends to wander.  But considering my kids are one million times cuter than any adult I've ever met, I'll deal with the wandering mind.  It makes life interesting.

Almost intolerable cuteness - Exhibit A - Mr. Beckett