'Tis The Season

     There are two types of people in this world: Joiners and Non-Joiners. I happen to belong to the former category.  Some folks like to be on the outside looking in, admiring the goings-on of others and thinking to themselves, hey, that looks kinda fun, but never venturing out to explore the perks of belonging to a club. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to put this class down. Without them, every function we ever go to would be like going to Wal-Mart at midnight on Black Friday. I, however, am just not one of those people.
     I like to be in on the action. I like to create the action. I like the excitement of anticipation, the stress of last minute details, the structure of group meetings and knowing I have something to do on such and such day.  For instance, I've always wanted to be a part of a book club, but since it's hard to get away from the house to go to meetings, I started one on Facebook.  Same goes with my family's facebook page. I wanted a way to stay connected and have a special forum for posting things only fellow Sorrell's would understand. Ergo, the FB group Glam Fam was created. Most recently I joined the PTA and can't wait to help with fundraisers and luncheons. And for my birthday next year, I'm orchestrating my very own FLASH MOB!!!! Yesssss.  I can't help it! I just like that kind of thing.
    So what better time of year to join things that the holiday season??  School parties, work parties, festivals, parades, shopping, gift-giving, light shows, music, ugly sweater parties, plays, cantatas...it's a magical time of year!  As soon as the back-to-school hype is over, I can feel it in my bones....the giddy schoolgirl excitement building and plotting, eagerly looking forward to all the holiday lore that is to come. I take advantage of every opportunity to join in on the fun. Most of it comes fairly easily (i.e. not having to twist hubby's arm). But sometimes I'm on my own. Decorating the tree, festive clothes - fuh-ghet-it. And caroling? P-shaw!! Neeever gonna happen. Actually I have yet to find a group to go caroling with. I'm still working on that one.
     Admittedly, I get into the Christmas spirit much more than the fall activities. I saw a poster yesterday and laughed my head off because it's SO TRUE:

(Please excuse the txt cussing)

Seriously, what happens the day after Halloween? Twenty-four-hour Christmas music and a bombarding of all things Christmas. Sure there's a few pumpkin-inspired items, but let's face it, they're just foreplay for the big event.

     Either way, Joiner or Non-Joiner, the holidays are quickly approaching and I'm STOKED (if you couldn't tell). No one can deny the splendor that is the holidays, not even the most reclusive scrooge in town.

The Positives

     In one of my most recent blogs, I wrote that I hadn't had anything nagging at me to be written in a while. But what I should have said is that I didn't have anything negative to be written in a while. Why is that?  I read over my entire blog and while most of my entries usually have a come-full-circle template with a happy ending, the prompt to write is usually something negative or a problem to be reconciled or a situation that is slightly askew.  So if I write something positive, I'm bragging?? Is that it?   I read very few blogs, and my own is one of them (for self-counseling reasons). But the ones I do read, the author is usually dealing with something that makes me feel better about myself. For example, I LUUUV  Rants From Mommyland because they talk about all the crazy happenings of a mom and their struggles to deal. I have a laugh, give one of those Dude-I-know-exactly-what-you're-talking-about head bobs, and go tackle my own day.  NONE of the blogs I read, though, tells me how great their life is. If they did, I'd probably read it once and go, "Well la-dee-friggin-da. Good for you," and I'd never read it again.
  
      So what does that say about me? What does that say about all of us?  Am I the only one with this prejudice against well-to-do's?  Because it's not just blogs to which this theory applies.  MTV Cribs and Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous, they just make me go, "Ugh," because I see how well they are doing and think, "Why them and not me?"  But an episode of Hoarders comes on or Jersey Shore??? Now that's a show that makes me feel better about myself!! I'm DEFINITELY better off than that slob/slut!!! That's gotta be why those shows are even popular! I can't be the only one that feels this way or else shows like that would get cancelled.
    
     Okay, now once again, my blog entry is based around my own dilemma: I need schmut TV to feel better about myself. Well, that's just not true. While I do admit that I need some outside qualification to confirm my opinion about myself (i.e. a compliment from husband, an atta-girl here and there from coworkers/family, etc), I can in fact go to sleep at night knowing that I'm a good person.  Still, I'm reluctant to write a blog based on the good things in my life. Maybe I'm doing my readers a disservice with this practice.  I don't need to go into all the havoc around us to reiterate the need for positive things in our lives.  We should be lifted up by others' triumphs and celebrate achievements rather than look down on others to feel superior, right?

     From now on, I will try  to write more "positively perfect posts."  Okay, maybe not so much perfect, but positive? Yes.  So please don't think I'm bragging if I write a blog to say, "Guess what? I ROCK!"  Just trying to focus attention elsewhere, is all. ;)

Medicated

Yesterday I went to the doctor. My first "annual" checkup in, well, many annuals. (that made sense in my head) Anyway, for my fantastically faithful followers (that alliteration was for you Rob) you're all too familiar with my ADD issues. For those that aren't, just scroll down to my 'Scattered' post. It explains it all. At my checkup yesterday, after covering all the basics, I told my new doctor that I had been diagnosed with Adult ADD. I had seen a psychiatrist and taken the most boorrriiing test known to man. I passed or failed that test miserably, depending on how you look at it.

I took meds for it after I stopped nursing Jace. I was jittery, had headaches and couldn't sleep. After some adjustments, I. Was. UNSTOPABLE! Look out world, I am heading your way! No task was too daunting. Nothing to confusing. I was a list-making fool on a mission. It was exhausting.

Somewhere along the way I stopped taking it. Then got pregnant with Number 2 and nursed for a year, so no meds for Carlton.

Now I'm back. I asked the doctor for a lower dose so there would be fewer side effects...a-ffects? that one always gets me... And after just one day....I can breeeaaath.....aaahhhh....it's like there's suddenly room in my head to think. One. thought. at. a. time. aaaahhhhh. I can ask myself what I need to do today. Well, Carli, you need to do A, B, and C, in that order. Oh my gosh! Is this how easy it is for the rest of the world?!

Now, to someone without ADD, this probably seems pretty ridiculous. Well, I know this seems ridiculous. I'm married to that someone. And not only does he NOT have ADD, he is Mr. Organization/Proficiency, er, OCD, if you will. There's not much he does in a day that doesn't have a purpose or accomplish a goal. It's extremely frustrating for him when I forget things, misplace things, or don't get my To Do list completed in a day. And it's extremely frustrating for me that he remembers everything, misplaces nothing, and can pretty much conquer the world in one afternoon.

After seven years of marriage, we have finally acknowledged the source of our (occasional) discord. So when I told him I was going to get "crazy" pills, he was pretty excited. In the days leading up to my appointment, if something was forgotten, he'd say, "Four more days...just four more days." To which I lovingly, eloquently replied, "Screw you."

We can joke about it now. We are learning to meet in the middle. For seven years we've been on opposite ends of the spectrum and we are finally starting to see some common ground. Him letting a few things go and me stepping up my game. But of course we realize this won't be a fix all. I'm not completely magically cured and he's not miraculously relaxed.

More than anything, I'm elated for myself! I feel in control for the first time a looong time. Just a word to anyone who feels like this might be you or to anyone who has someone in their life with ADD, EMBRACE THE MEDS. Behavior modification is a must, but, ohhh, medication is LIBERATING!

Author's Note: I wrote this mooonths ago. Don't know why I never published it. Maybe I forgot my meds that day.

I Got Schooled

   Excuse me! Excuse me, People! I have an announcement to make! ....tap, tap, tap, ahem. I (dramatic pause) am no longer a full-time stay-at-home-mom. (This is where you cheer and applaud, but mix in a few disappointed "ohhs" for effect). That's right, I'm working, but only part-time, three days a week. And what, pray tell, is worth leaving my kids for? Drumroll........watching other people's kids!!! (The noisemakers lose their fizzle and the balloons shoot across the air as if the excitement has left the room. Because it has.) 
    Well, this job sort of landed in my lap. I'm assistant teaching at a Mother's Day Out program in the two-yr-old class on Tues, Wed, and Thurs. Not bad, eh? Mia comes with me and I pick Jace up around the corner and he hangs out in what he calls his "second school" for a couple of hours. And I get to make a few bucks just in time for Christmas.
    So far, I don't hate it. If anything, I think it's teaching me a new lesson in parenting.  When you're around other people's kids you have to use very diplomatic, non-confrontational, positive language. Basically if you'd say it to your own kids, don't say it to them. When I see a kid bash another over the head, instead of saying, "DON'T you DARE do that again, how'd you like it if I bashed you over the head? What were you THINKING??" I have to say, in a very sing-songy, honeysuckle voice, "Noh, noh, _______, we use soft touches. Now go play, pleeease. Thank-you!" smile, smile, smile..annnd roll my eyes and wonder internally if his parents have ever thought of spanking. Just saying. 
    Patience is key, which I seriously lack. Something about the classroom setting, though, gives the kids a little more wiggle room to be unsure and not know how to do everything instantly.
    At home, with Jace, I get frustrated easily when he doesn't understand something right away or when he does something that I know he knows he's not supposed to do. But after the three days I've worked there, I noticed I'm coming home still in teaching mode. Tonight when I was helping Jace with a puzzle, after seeing him trying to jam an edge piece together with a non-edge piece, I saw it as a teaching opportunity. I talked to him as if he weren't my kid. I used my sing-songy teachery voice.  And it worked! Imagine that!
     I know, I know, you're probably thinking, well, duh, you moron, that's how you're SUPPOSED to teach your kids. Well, let's just say, lesson learned. Jace is a smart kid, really smart, in fact, and sometimes I forget it's not his job to listen to my barking and jump when I say jump. Sometimes he needs a diplomat to talk nice to him. Lord knows there are enough people out there that will be mean to him someday. He certainly doesn't need harsh words from me.
     So I may come home with crayon and diaper remnants on my shirt and get paid squat for it, but if it makes me a better parent, then I guess I don't mind getting schooled. Nyow, it's off to beddy-bye, okay? Okayeee. Good nighty night! Buh-bye nyow!

Untitled.

     My mom died when I was almost nine. One week before my 9th birthday, to be exact. She didn't die of her own will, she didn't die of an illness, she was taken from us. She didn't have time to say goodbye. She never woke again to hug us and tell us how much she loved us. She was robbed of that.

  For almost twenty years I mourned. Mourned for my loss, for my brother and sister's loss, for my Dad's loss of his wife and mother of his children. But after having my own children, I have a new reason to mourn. I mourn for my mom. For so long I've felt how hard it is to lose a mom. But now I can only imagine how hard it would be to leave my children. It must have broken her heart.

  As a mom, there's always a sense of duty to your family. To your kids, you're the hug-giver, the reader of stories, the boo-boo kisser, the "look"-giver, the activity director, the answer-haver, the chef, the maid, the courier, the photographer, the Mom, the everything. To your husband, you're his confidante, his therapist, his buddy, and a lot of the above too. Ha. As I know too well, this can be exhausting. But I can't imagine having it taken away from me. The thought of it makes me shudder.

     Nothing compares to losing a child, but I have to bet leaving your child must be a close second. I look at my own sweet kids and pray two things. First, that they be kept safe. Second, that their Dad and I never have to leave them. I know what it did to me; it was, to say the least, devastating. And I can only feel sorry for my mom that she had to endure that. It wasn't her fault! She did nothing wrong! And she still had to leave us. Mom. Gina. I'm sorry. She didn't deserve that. No one does.

     I know in Heaven you only feel good things, but I can't help but feel like I need to tell her that it's okay. We're okay. I like to think that she still mothers us from up there. Takes care of us, watches over us. I also think she had a hand in sending us Peggy. Daddy may think he won Peggy over with his, er, "charm", but I know otherwise. ;)

    I hesitated to write this. I'm sobbing. I can hardly see to type. But if you haven't noticed, I haven't blogged in a while. Nothing has nagged at me to be written. For some reason, this did. It started a couple of days ago, when I watched Beaches (how have I never seen that movie before???) But when Hillary died and left the little girl, it reminded me of how it would feel to leave my own kiddos. And, well, you see where I'm going. That feeling has been a sticker in the bottom of my foot for days. Festering, manifesting itself into something I can't ignore.  I knew it would be hard to write, though. As I once told my therapist many years ago, I'm afraid of the emotions that get involved. So please, if you have my number or if you're friends with me on FB, please don't comment or say anything. I'll just start crying again. And then I'll get embarrassed.

    So I'll end with this: Mama, I'm so sorry for being selfish, only thinking of what I lost. You lost us too.  I love you so much. And I'll never stop missing you or you us. We'll see each other again someday.