#thisis40

As much as I wish I could change it, I will turn 40 in ten days.  Ten Days until I turn the big 4-0.  I'm trying to be positive and embrace the number.  Really, I am.  I am doing my best to channel my BFF and focus on my many blessings.  I attempt every day to remember accomplishments made over the past 14,600 days.

I'm struggling though.  2016 has been the year of all my friends turning 40.  They all seem to be embracing it.  So many of my friends have been posting photos taken on fabulous trips to exotic places to commemorate their 40th.  They've taken on big goals, done amazing things, accomplished fascinating dreams, or simply just embraced the fabulous people they are.  All under the hashtag, "thisis40".  It has me really trying to figure out, what is 40 for ME?  I'm not planning any trips anywhere amazing.  I haven't accomplished any grand dream or even made a huge impact on the world around me.  I'm not even sure what I want to be when I grow up yet.

When I was in my 20s people older than me would tell me when I got to be in my 30s and 40s I'd care less what people think, I'd find a self confidence I was then lacking.  Forty sounded so liberating.  I always figured by my thirties and forties I would finally know who I am, what I was supposed to do in this world and where I belonged.  I am so not there.

Forty has me physically out of shape, emotionally exhausted and seemingly messing up everything I touch.  My house is a mess, my brain is just as cluttered, and I never quite have it all together.  This isn't the grace and style I was hoping to have by now.  

Will I ever get there?  I guess I have 10 days to figure that out.  Wish me luck.    

A "Lucky" New Direction

A little over a week ago I got news that I never saw coming.  The kind of news that sucks the wind out of your sails and sends you reeling.  My job, the position I have loyally held for nearly 9 years, is being eliminated.  HR did the best they could to reassure me - they reminded me that I still have my job until June; that they will do the best they can to help me in any way I see fit; they assured me (rather emptily) that everyone who "touched this decision in any way feels horrible about it".  At the time, with tears streaming down my face, as I struggled just to suck air, not to mention try (rather unsuccessfully) to make eye contact, all I really heard was "blah, blah, no job, blah, blah, no money, blah, blah, no purpose".

I took a day to feel sorry for myself.  I cried.  I got angry.  I made immature and bitter remarks.  I had a pity party, felt like a loser, questioned my self worth.

Then I picked myself up, brushed myself off and started making lists.  I made "plans".  I did research.  I dusted off my resume and I started applying for jobs.     

Don't get me wrong.  I still feel like a loser,  I worry every second about what will happen or what I'm going to do...but I can't let this get me down (for long).  My husband needs me to be positive.  My kids need to know that nothing is wrong and that even if Mommy is talking about new jobs for whatever reason, that they don't have anything to worry about and their world will not change in any noticeably drastic ways.  I just can't allow myself to have to say "No, Nate...you can't play football this year because Mommy lost her job and we can't afford it",  or "I know all the other kids are going to the roller skating party but it's expensive so you can't join them".  That, to me, would be the ultimate failure...letting my boys down.  So I have to do whatever I can to make sure those words never have to be uttered. 

The good news is, I am pretty "marketable" as far as having a wide variety of "skills" that should afford me the opportunity to land SOME job, doing something, somewhere.  Sure, I'd love to take this opportunity to find something I love...to really figure out what I'm good at and do what makes me happy.  But that is (and really should be, I suppose) trumped by the necessity simply to ensure that I continue to have a paycheck in 10 short weeks when my job ends.

So, if you are so inclined, prayers are welcome.  If you know of any openings, please share.  Otherwise, just wish me luck.  I'm going to need it.  

The revolving door of parenthood.

You know the scene...you're going through a revolving door at your local restaurant, shopping plaza or hotel lobby.  You hustle your littles into the all-too-tight space ahead of you and then squeeze in behind them, go a half turn through the door and then lead them out safely on the other side.   It's our job.  That's what we as Moms, Dads, PARENTS, do. 

The other day my boys, ages 6 and 8, and I were traveling through one of these doors when they rushed in ahead of me.  They filed into the section before me and I followed, one compartment behind.  Well, I got out on the other side and they did not...they kept going.  And going.  And going.  They were having the time of their lives just spinning around.  Of course I ushered them back through as soon as their fun became distruptive to others trying to get in, but until then, they carried on without me.  This has become a metaphor for my life with these boys lately. 

I understand that's how it works.  We guide them and steer them - Teach them, enourage them, support them.  Then they get independent and disappear into the revolving door only to come out on the other side unassisted.  With me standing on the outside watching them through the glass but unable to reach them.  I'm just not sure I am fully prepared for this new back seat "supervisory" role that I've inevitably been assigned. 

I love that my boys are growing up, don't get me wrong.  Besides, Nate has always been an old soul anyway...light years ahead of his age in maturity and self reliance.  I (half) joke all the time that Nate has never really needed me.  As a baby, he would crawl to his bedroom door when he was tired and sit outside it until I put him to bed. 

At swimming over the weekend I was chatting with a mom-friend of mine who is still very much in the throes of all things baby and toddler.  As she stepped out of the water with her infant in one hand and her toddler on her heels, she noted that I had been relieved of my "going in the water duties" now that the boys were older and could swim on their own.  I agreed, pointing out it was just one of many new breaks I'd finally earned as a result of their growing up.  I smile on the outside.  But inside I cried a little.

Sure, it's great to send them outside (with very little assistance needed beyond "Mom, where's my hat?" and "Help!  I can't get my boots on over my thick snowpants with my gloves already firmly installed on my hands" - ok, so they don't actually talk like that but you get the point...) but I never quite know where I stand.  When my needed assistance will be replaced with their new found confidence and skill.  Who can guess when my advice will be put out of business with wisdom of their own.

I don't know that I'll ever get used to this ever-changing "normal".  Just when I think I have it down, something changes. I will always beam with pride as new achievements are realized and skills are learned, of course.  But inside, I also realize that the end of my parenting job is one step closer.  That before I know it I may read my last goodnight story or hear my last "MOM!" holler for assistance in the bathroom.  And that makes me sad.

Ch, Cha, Cha, Changes

Lots has been going on here in the Smith Household the last few weeks/months.

Nate is in full swing in Kindergarten...he's seemingly moved on from the bully incident(s) and I'm finally in (some sort of) a groove to keep up with all his nightly/weekly homework, reading requirements, and projects.  Every day he comes home with some story of kissing Lily or asking Paige to marry him (!)...his idea of the most tragic day ever is when someone breaks his crayon or hits him with a piece of paper at play time.

Dave has (finally!) gone to get a sleep study done, proving once and for all that he DOES in fact have sleep apnea (severe, actually - I won't say "I told you so", but...) and was fitted for his CPAP machine today.  Tonight is his first official night on it and I'm hoping to wake up to a new and improved (a.k.a. well rested) version of my husband.  That might require a miracle, though, so maybe I'll give it some time?

As for Alex...he's been complaining about his tummy hurting for a while and after the hundredth time or so Dave and I thought maybe he wasn't just using it as an excuse to avoid bedtime, nap time, cleaning up, etc.  So, I took him to the doctor's.  His pediatrician ruled out all the major threats (appendicitis, bowel obstruction, etc.) and sent us on our way with directions to monitor what he is eating and when he complains and instill a "do not flush" policy so we can see what his poop looks like.  Fun times.  By the time I got home, however, I had a call from the doctor saying his urine test had shown some sugar in his pee which can be a sign of diabetes.  So off to the blood lab we went the following morning.  We were told not to give him food or drink so we headed in first thing when they opened - 8 AM.  What a torturous experience THAT was!  One cranky phlebotomist, two unsuccessful attempts, and nearly three hours later and we were driving uptown in pursuit of a good phlebotomist who had a knack for sticking children with needles so we could finally feed our three-year-old! 

Long story short, his blood tests came back negative for diabetes (thank goodness!) and didn't show any other problems - if his stomach issues persisted we were to come back in for an ultrasound to check his gall bladder, kidneys, and other stuff.

Then I got a phone call from my mother, who for at least the third time, suggested I look into Celiac's Disease and the possibility of him having a gluten allergy.  I poo poo'd the idea, as I had at least twice before because, as an infant, Alex had been tested for a lactose intolerance and had come back negative on milk, soy, nut, and wheat allergies.  If he's not allergic to wheat, he can't have a gluten intolerance, right?!?!

Wrong.

It turns out the two are related, but not dependent of each other.  You can have one without the other and vice versa.  So, I started reading and just stuff started making sense - his suspected lactose intolerance that suddenly disappeared, his mystery anemia that didn't respond to supplements, his tiny size, his stomach issues, those stinky poops he's had since he was a BABY?  All of these things were indicative of a gluten intolerance.

So, I called my doctor, suggested this theory and was told it was worth trying.  After much reading, learning, and inquiring, some initial resistance from my husband (who has since come around) and a (more expensive than usual) grocery shopping trip, we started Alex on a gluten free diet.  We switched over his cereals, bought rice and quinoa pastas, substituted gluten free snacks, and inspected the labels on a hundred items in our cupboards to find which we could and couldn't feed him.

I'm happy to report (initially, of course) that after a little more than a week of being (mostly) gluten free (the occasional non-gf item sneaks through at school or when he "shares" with his brother or other kids), things are looking up.  The most notable difference to mention is that he's actually EATING.  He's always eaten like a mouse...little bits at a time, all day long.  But now, he'll clean his plate.  He hasn't complained about his tummy all week and seems less "naughty" than he had been leading up to this experiment.

Sure, it could all be a happy coincidence, but it definitely seems promising enough to stick it out - I've seen enough good change to keep going with it.  It certainly can't HURT, right?  

The passing of time...

I'm finding that as time goes by, things change.  

*GASP!*  

I mean, I KNOW things change, but I guess it's the absence of ANYTHING staying the same that has me surprised.  

Not only do we get older and our bodies change, our preferences change, our jobs change, our spouses change (for some of us, that is), our homes change, our cars change, our furniture changes, our styles change, our routines change, neighbors change, friends change (some friends obviously stay the same but even those friendships change and morph into fresh new versions of themselves as circumstances fluctuate).  

Even love changes with time.  It grows stronger, it fades, it ebbs and wanes but it doesn't stay the same.  Nothing does.  

What I'm finding the most sad, though, is how my QUICKLY my children change.  Not only do they grow up, learn new things, get bigger.  But their little quirks and those behaviors that I hold so dear are disappearing.  

Nathaniel has always had a myriad of blankets he goes to sleep with every night.  None was more special than the next, but he needed at least one of them to travel and ALL of them to sleep.  The cute habit he had was holding the blanket up to his nose and sniffing it in order to fall asleep.  It was consistent, reliable, and PRECIOUS!  I realized recently that he doesn't do that anymore.  How sad!  Where did that go? 

Little things like the butchered way he used to say things or the funny words he'd use to label things (fweh = pacifier...hey = elephant...)  I was again reminded of this bittersweet fact the other morning when he asked "Mommy, where's my paci-fighter?"  Words he would say, such as, "Butt Fry", recently became "Bugga Fy" and I know that it will all too soon this will morph into its intended version: "Butterfly".  I miss that.

To look at my baby and realize that in just a few short months, he went from this:

To this:

And now is doing this:

And this:

It just boggles my mind!  

People have reminded me that there is joy and pride to be had in these little achievements.  Each new thing my children learn is progress and accomplishment.  And I do realize this, superficially.  It's just hard not to miss those little things.  Especially when you have a memory as horrible as mine.  Those cute quirks are no sooner done as they are gone.  It all goes by too quickly and changes too often!  So my best option is to blog about these moments before they change too drastically and completely disappear.  I vow to write down their adorable habits, funny pronunciations, and hilarious stories of daily life.  And share them with all of you! (lucky guys!)

Until I can find that proverbial pause button to stop things long enough to sit back and take it all in, I guess I will just have to focus on living in the now, enjoying the current moment, and soak in as much as I can as life whizzes by!