Going to college at the age of 30 is in a word: SCARY.
Until now, I had never attended classes on campus. I had only previously taken online courses. On my first day, the nervousness I had was very similar to the nervousness I would have when starting a new school as a child. I knew I didn't know anybody, didn't have any friends, and that is always such a tough situation to be in. I thought that being older, I would not concern myself with the opinions of my peers or even try very hard to blend in (my previous coping strategies).
I was wrong. So wrong.
In the adult world, I am completely comfortable being a person that feels confident in her own style choices and expressions of character. But put back inside of a school setting, that completely went away and I felt like such an outsider. I worried that the students would know I was older or somehow uncool and nobody would think I was worthy of getting to know. Like maybe because I am a mom I don't need friends so why bother. How awful and eye opening is that?
The other students are polite, but most don't make eye contact. Maybe that's not just me, maybe we as a society don't do that anymore. By now, our third week of class, they know that I am older, but not how much older. I'm 30, guys. I graduated high school 12 years ago. Back in 2004, when you were just in Kindergarten. That's right.
I don't even know what's cool anymore. I feel like Josie Geller, played by Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed. If I show up in clogs and butterfly clips in my hair is that still cool?
But speaking of cool, I don't even think college kids think they're cool. They all wear college shirts and jeans and chucks, boots and leggings, or workout clothes. I bet they don't even work out.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
She's gone.
Sometimes I think about it. Really think about it. Right here. Right now. My mother is dead. The thought sucks the air out of my lungs. It chokes in my throat. She's gone.
I can't call her. She doesn't answer when I do. When I call her, I have a nervousness in my stomach. What if she answered? What if somebody else answered? What if the phone company gave her number to someone else. They could take it away from me- they could give her number to a stranger who would have no idea what that number was to me. A hotline to heaven.
God, mama, please answer the phone.
I ride past her apartment. Her car is not there. It's in my front yard with a FOR SALE sign in the windshield. Someone else is parked in her spot. Another family occupies the place that holds the last memories I have of my mother. Saturday visits, new recipes we cooked together, a place for my children to spend the night. The last walk through I did of her apartment before we packed all of her things in a U-Haul. Everything just as she had left it. Except it wasn't. It was cold.
Now when I go visit my mama I sit on the ground- uneven because the grass hasn't grown back yet. I lean my head on her stone engraved with lyrics from her favorite hymn. Beulah Land. She's in her Beulah Land. She's left me behind.
I don't visit her grave as much as I like. It is cold and empty there. I don't feel her there. I feel her on my first day back to college, holding my hand as I walk to my first class. Telling me to breathe deep, it's ok, I can do this. I hear her in my children's laughter and smell her from time to time. She wore the same perfume for years. I smell it and it stops me in my tracks.
I smell her and she's here again.
I can't call her. She doesn't answer when I do. When I call her, I have a nervousness in my stomach. What if she answered? What if somebody else answered? What if the phone company gave her number to someone else. They could take it away from me- they could give her number to a stranger who would have no idea what that number was to me. A hotline to heaven.
God, mama, please answer the phone.
I ride past her apartment. Her car is not there. It's in my front yard with a FOR SALE sign in the windshield. Someone else is parked in her spot. Another family occupies the place that holds the last memories I have of my mother. Saturday visits, new recipes we cooked together, a place for my children to spend the night. The last walk through I did of her apartment before we packed all of her things in a U-Haul. Everything just as she had left it. Except it wasn't. It was cold.
Now when I go visit my mama I sit on the ground- uneven because the grass hasn't grown back yet. I lean my head on her stone engraved with lyrics from her favorite hymn. Beulah Land. She's in her Beulah Land. She's left me behind.
I don't visit her grave as much as I like. It is cold and empty there. I don't feel her there. I feel her on my first day back to college, holding my hand as I walk to my first class. Telling me to breathe deep, it's ok, I can do this. I hear her in my children's laughter and smell her from time to time. She wore the same perfume for years. I smell it and it stops me in my tracks.
I smell her and she's here again.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Where We Are
Does anybody even use blogger anymore?
Life has changed so much since my last post here. It has changed in so many good and bad ways but it has all been such an experience to learn and grow from.
My mother died late February 2015. A lot of me died with her that day.
It was the most awful thing, to see her in her final 6 days in a coma. She had an accident. No one found her in time. I have a lot of regret about that.
Our last phone conversation was on a Monday. She told me about her doctors appointment. We laughed. She told me she loved me and I told her I loved her too. I didn't know that was the last time.
Grief has such a funny way of manifesting in each person differently. This is still a learning experience for me.
The boys took it better than I thought. They were sad. They were quiet.
In the nearly 10 months since then, we have purchased a new home. It is absolutely wonderful. We went from living in a tiny 800 sq ft home with 6 family members, to a 3200 sq ft home (if you count the sun room and, yes, I do). We are not in city limits anymore and we are loving living in the outskirts of town. It's quiet out here. It's beautiful.
I go back to college in a week. I am taking on campus classes this semester. At the moment, I am not nervous or anxious or anything. I dread the work load. I took online classes last year before my mother passed and it was difficult for me to balance homeschooling, college and housekeeping.
I still try to find time for making. Making is what feeds my soul.
Life has changed so much since my last post here. It has changed in so many good and bad ways but it has all been such an experience to learn and grow from.
My mother died late February 2015. A lot of me died with her that day.
It was the most awful thing, to see her in her final 6 days in a coma. She had an accident. No one found her in time. I have a lot of regret about that.
Our last phone conversation was on a Monday. She told me about her doctors appointment. We laughed. She told me she loved me and I told her I loved her too. I didn't know that was the last time.
Grief has such a funny way of manifesting in each person differently. This is still a learning experience for me.
The boys took it better than I thought. They were sad. They were quiet.
In the nearly 10 months since then, we have purchased a new home. It is absolutely wonderful. We went from living in a tiny 800 sq ft home with 6 family members, to a 3200 sq ft home (if you count the sun room and, yes, I do). We are not in city limits anymore and we are loving living in the outskirts of town. It's quiet out here. It's beautiful.
I go back to college in a week. I am taking on campus classes this semester. At the moment, I am not nervous or anxious or anything. I dread the work load. I took online classes last year before my mother passed and it was difficult for me to balance homeschooling, college and housekeeping.
I still try to find time for making. Making is what feeds my soul.
This is the last photo we took together in November of 2014
This is the latest photo of my family.
Wesley turns 3 January 6th.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
This morning I woke up an hour before Wesley did. I got some coffee, sat down at the computer and enjoyed it. Then I swept and mopped all three hardwood floors in my house and sorted a load of laundry. When Wesley awoke we played and cooed and his brothers joined in on the fun. We went outside. He took his medicine and then we nursed and he drifted off to sleep for his morning nap. I placed him in his swing and unloaded/loaded the dishwasher. Fed the boys breakfast, surfed the web, did some more laundry. Wesley slept about an hour and a half, we got up nursed and played and an hour later he is napping again.
Sounds like I have my life sorted. Everything under control.
But this my friends, is what I might post on Facebook. The things we choose to expose to our friends and families. The pretty picture. The good days. The supermom moments.
I know good and well this is just a good day. Tomorrow will be different.
I am deep in the clenching grip of post partum depression. This feels heavy. Like something I'll never dig my way out of. Ever so often I have heard me mutter to myself about how I should've gone to college... should've had something going for myself except this. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, would die for them. But they've taken me away from myself. It's not their fault. They need me. I need me.
Most days there is yelling. Occasionally from me. Mostly it's the boys fighting with each other. Wesley's routines are so cray and vary day to day. He doesn't sleep in the boba wrap anymore. He sleeps in his swing or on me. Which sometimes ties me down to where I can't tend to the older boys. I need a clone of myself. That way I could leave the house with the kids in it and everything wouldn't fall apart.
I need a break. An outlet. I.am.burnt.out.
*hanging my head in shame. Let my white flag fly. I surrender!!!!!!!
Sounds like I have my life sorted. Everything under control.
But this my friends, is what I might post on Facebook. The things we choose to expose to our friends and families. The pretty picture. The good days. The supermom moments.
I know good and well this is just a good day. Tomorrow will be different.
I am deep in the clenching grip of post partum depression. This feels heavy. Like something I'll never dig my way out of. Ever so often I have heard me mutter to myself about how I should've gone to college... should've had something going for myself except this. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, would die for them. But they've taken me away from myself. It's not their fault. They need me. I need me.
Most days there is yelling. Occasionally from me. Mostly it's the boys fighting with each other. Wesley's routines are so cray and vary day to day. He doesn't sleep in the boba wrap anymore. He sleeps in his swing or on me. Which sometimes ties me down to where I can't tend to the older boys. I need a clone of myself. That way I could leave the house with the kids in it and everything wouldn't fall apart.
I need a break. An outlet. I.am.burnt.out.
*hanging my head in shame. Let my white flag fly. I surrender!!!!!!!
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
One good thing about music...
I love Reggae music. Good reggae, like, anything from anybody with the last name Marley (Bob, Ziggy, Stephen) and anything that sings the true spirit of reggae and perhaps some ganga references and speak of political unrest that was Kingston in the 70's can be thrown in, that's cool. I'm not into newer reggae, where they only sing about marijuana use and guns. No thanks.
Hayden likes my reggae too. We dance in the house, keeping beat with the music. He likes Pink and Lady Gaga as well. I'm glad he's free to like what he likes without peer influence. He has time to develop into the person he wants to be and I love that.
Music has become my best friend. I listen to it all day. Home alone with 4 kids all day is lonely sometimes. One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain.
Time. I've grown to hate clocks because I am constantly watching them. I check it first thing in the morning when I wake up, because 2 hours after that I have to give Wesley his medicine and then half an hour after that he can eat. Then while he is napping, we do school... then oh wait it's time for lunch. Then Wes is awake it's time for him to nurse, and then every 2 hours after that, every 30 minutes we put Jude on the pot... 3 days now in underwear and only pullups at night. Doing very well. What would my life be like without the clock to rule it? What did people do before there were clocks? I guess they just fed on demand and trusted their bodies and their children to lead the way.
"oh Jah. The cre-a-tah" oh wait- I don't worship Jah. But the sound of my voice in my thoughts is totally Jamaican right now.
Peace and love and Reggae music.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
The one where I pop in and ask for a favor.
I realize my last post was titled 6 weeks, which means I haven't blogged in 5.5 weeks. I'm a really crappy blogger. This blog wasn't meant to be a blog where I occasionally blog about my kids and their ailments, it was supposed to be a creative outlet for myself. But creativity got lost somewhere at the corner of life with 4 boys, that's not always flowers and sausages.
Truth is, right now I am terrified. That kind of terrified that gets caught in my chest. Feels like I need a cigarette (which in June we quit 4 years ago) or somebody knocked the wind out of me.
Dylan has been having HORRIBLE headaches for the past week, maybe two. He has always had headaches since he's had the brain inflammation, but these are recurring every single day, once or twice a day and do not go away without ibuprofen. He cries with them and can't seem to function well. All he has wanted to do since they started is watch tv. That's not really Dylan, he likes to play outside.
I took him to the doctor yesterday about it and they couldn't offer an explanation or anything. That's sort of why we avoid pediatricians with Dylan. They simply don't know enough about Dylan or his condition to help him. I took him there yesterday mainly in hopes that he had an ear infection or something simple but we weren't that lucky.
He doesn't have any neurological symptoms so I don't suspect that he is sick again, but with Dylan everything is so hard to tell, he just had an Mri in January so the odds that he is sick again are slim, and he has been on Solumedrol injections since then as well so the likely that inflammation broke through that is slim, but if it has, it's even scarier because that would mean that steroids aren't working anymore...
So, if you can, if you will. Whatever you do, pray, dance in the woods, chant, light a candle... please do it for my boy.
We need him here with us and well. <3
Truth is, right now I am terrified. That kind of terrified that gets caught in my chest. Feels like I need a cigarette (which in June we quit 4 years ago) or somebody knocked the wind out of me.
Dylan has been having HORRIBLE headaches for the past week, maybe two. He has always had headaches since he's had the brain inflammation, but these are recurring every single day, once or twice a day and do not go away without ibuprofen. He cries with them and can't seem to function well. All he has wanted to do since they started is watch tv. That's not really Dylan, he likes to play outside.
I took him to the doctor yesterday about it and they couldn't offer an explanation or anything. That's sort of why we avoid pediatricians with Dylan. They simply don't know enough about Dylan or his condition to help him. I took him there yesterday mainly in hopes that he had an ear infection or something simple but we weren't that lucky.
He doesn't have any neurological symptoms so I don't suspect that he is sick again, but with Dylan everything is so hard to tell, he just had an Mri in January so the odds that he is sick again are slim, and he has been on Solumedrol injections since then as well so the likely that inflammation broke through that is slim, but if it has, it's even scarier because that would mean that steroids aren't working anymore...
So, if you can, if you will. Whatever you do, pray, dance in the woods, chant, light a candle... please do it for my boy.
We need him here with us and well. <3
Saturday, February 16, 2013
6 weeks
Wes turns 6 weeks tomorrow! You'd probably expect me to say it flew right by, but it did not. It's been a ride, and we are still on that ride, but with a lot less tears these days.
I changed Wesley's doctor to a doctor that would actually listen to me and treat my child. I've never had to push for medicine for my baby before, but when your baby is in pain, you do what you have to do to help him. The zantac was just not strong enough. I changed my diet... I'm now dairy, caffeine and chocolate free. In addition to wheat and sugar free. Basically any food that might bring you pleasure, I cannot have. It's temporary. He won't have reflux forever. He won't be nursing forever. But for the right now, he is. It's the best thing for him (and me!) and as a mother, we do what's best for our kids, in spite of ourselves.
So he was changed from zantac to Prevacid. He has been on it for three days now and we can already tell a difference. He smiled at me yesterday! And you can hold Wes now and he wont cry! In fact, most of the tears are reserved for diaper changes and intense hunger.
The past 6 weeks have been hell, but I'm looking forward to the next 6 weeks and beyond being much easier.
The older wildboys are doing fine... God bless them, they never asked why Wes cried so much. Never complained. Just kept kissing him and loving him. I wish I could find my inner wildboy. So much unconditional love.. that's kids for ya. I wish I could say I had been as graceful about Wes' tears, but they brought me down with him. As good as I am at falling down, I can get right back up. We are learning this life together.
Dylan had an appt with his Neuro on the 8th and I never updated anyone on how he's doing. Dylan's MRI results were fantastic. His old scars are healing and his brain looks much better. We are awaiting the results of his PDH enzyme lab work, and when they come in we will reevaluate the need for steroids. If he is PDH deficient, he will stop steroids and start a low sugar low carb diet. If he is not deficient, continue steroids at Doc Veda's word. I got a phone call the other day telling me that Veda has changed him from once weekly steroids to biweekly steroids, so he won't get them as often now. So we are getting further away from them, slowly but surely.
Don't ask me how homeschool is going.
Kthanksbye.
I changed Wesley's doctor to a doctor that would actually listen to me and treat my child. I've never had to push for medicine for my baby before, but when your baby is in pain, you do what you have to do to help him. The zantac was just not strong enough. I changed my diet... I'm now dairy, caffeine and chocolate free. In addition to wheat and sugar free. Basically any food that might bring you pleasure, I cannot have. It's temporary. He won't have reflux forever. He won't be nursing forever. But for the right now, he is. It's the best thing for him (and me!) and as a mother, we do what's best for our kids, in spite of ourselves.
So he was changed from zantac to Prevacid. He has been on it for three days now and we can already tell a difference. He smiled at me yesterday! And you can hold Wes now and he wont cry! In fact, most of the tears are reserved for diaper changes and intense hunger.
The past 6 weeks have been hell, but I'm looking forward to the next 6 weeks and beyond being much easier.
The older wildboys are doing fine... God bless them, they never asked why Wes cried so much. Never complained. Just kept kissing him and loving him. I wish I could find my inner wildboy. So much unconditional love.. that's kids for ya. I wish I could say I had been as graceful about Wes' tears, but they brought me down with him. As good as I am at falling down, I can get right back up. We are learning this life together.
Dylan had an appt with his Neuro on the 8th and I never updated anyone on how he's doing. Dylan's MRI results were fantastic. His old scars are healing and his brain looks much better. We are awaiting the results of his PDH enzyme lab work, and when they come in we will reevaluate the need for steroids. If he is PDH deficient, he will stop steroids and start a low sugar low carb diet. If he is not deficient, continue steroids at Doc Veda's word. I got a phone call the other day telling me that Veda has changed him from once weekly steroids to biweekly steroids, so he won't get them as often now. So we are getting further away from them, slowly but surely.
Don't ask me how homeschool is going.
Kthanksbye.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)