Its my bubble


I often tell people that I live in a bubble.  I mean this in a good-humored way of course.  With the way G’s travel schedule works, I am at home with the monsners most days and with them going to two different schools on two different schedules right now, I have a limited amount of time that I could leave the vicinity of my home.  So, mostly, I stay here or very close by.  When I do travel away from my “bubble”, it always takes me a little bit of time to acclimate to being somewhere different.  I feel like I get glimpses of my former life in the big city.  Its good for me really – shakes things up now and again.  As a child I traveled so much, so often, that staying at home for any length of time was a novelty.  During two different periods of my childhood my mother considered hiring a tutor for me because I was missing so much school.  Now it seems as if the tables have completely turned.  I should maybe back up a step.  My parents were dance teachers.  My mother owned a dance studio and as I got older, I taught classes myself and performed on competition and professional teams.  I traveled all over the country and was hardly ever home.  I loved my childhood, loved the freedom I felt that I had and the new places I visited.  I thought nothing of jumping on an airplane and staying at hotels in new cities around the country, or long long car drives lasting most of the night where we would check into a hotel bleary-eyed and ready to collapse into the crisp white sheets of a new bed.  I loved truck stops!  I’m not sure what it was about them, but I used to beg my mom to let us stop to eat at a truck stop along our trips.  I still like them actually.  I loved pushing all the elevator buttons in a highrise hotel and I especially loved the hotels with glass elevators.  I did occasionally wonder about the coziness of spending regular weekends at home as I knew that so many of my classmates did, kind of in the same way you might peer into a display window of a department store.  I was so curious about what the other kids did just being at home.  As a young adult I moved around quite a bit.  It wasn’t until about 4 years ago that we bought our home here and have set down some roots.  I can’t even explain to you the way my whole being relaxed after we purchased the house.  It wasn’t necessarily the purchase OF the house, it was that I finally, finally had a permanent place to be settled.  A place to curl up and be warm against the cold winters and to come home and rest after summer travels.  I am still occasionally in a bit of wonder about the whole experience.  One of my favorite things to do at home is sit on the heated (from radiators) bench by our big picture window and look out into the blustery wind and snow.  I love being so warm and cozy against something so harsh and cold.  My house is not fancy, it is a farmhouse style and over a hundred years old.  It is very well loved and has a lot of character.  We’ve done a bit of decorating as we’re able, but nothing dramatic.  I think it fits our family’s personality very nicely.  It is enough and because of that I find that I don’t have “house envy” anymore.  It is the center of my bubble.  I gradually have let myself relax in our “new” town.  We have found a church where we feel like we belong.  We love our neighbors, all the cute little businesses and restaurants close to our home.  We use the local coffee house instead of Starbucks, we regularly visit the local bakery instead of Dunkin Doughnuts.  I am involved at the school and workout at our local Y.  I cannot leave the house without seeing someone I know and it is one of the favorite things about where I live.  I have so much joy during an impromptu coffee date with a friend after dropping the children off at school, just because we ran into each other at that moment.  I love that even without making plans, I will inevitably know someone in my Zumba class at the Y.  It has also helped me to handle my anxiety disorder while G travels so much.  I know that if I get out of the house, I will see people I know, feel more connected and less anxious.   Every year while visiting family we inevitibly get asked why in the world we live “way” up north.  This is where our puzzle piece fits.  Its where we feel at home.

Be Fierce.  Love your bubble.




Wading through molasses


So lately it feels like that is what I am doing.  Wading through molasses with my little mons-ners.  Moulding these little people.  Its hard.  They fight against me, general skills, even life it seems.  Miss S is 4.  Four!!  She came in the dining room the other day with something in her mouth and I asked her what it was and she didn’t want to show me.  After some prodding, I discovered she had a giant paperclip in her mouth.  I thought she was past putting odd things in her mouth.  I was mistaken.  I got it out, we discussed how that was not a good idea and how I did not want to go to the emergency room that afternoon and besides all of which she could have choked or something.  Mr A is 6 and fights against general nutrition in a militaristic fashion.  He has studied (very basic) nutrition at school, we discuss it at home, I explain WHY we’re eating what I have prepared….. no dice.  This morning he had a fit about yogurt.  YOGURT!!  How could a child possibly not like strawberry yogurt?!  Its not like I was trying to feed them steamed brussel sprouts for breakfast.  In any case, after the tantrum and him getting Mr M all riled up in an actual crying fit over yogurt, they both discovered that the yogurt was not for them at all.  (So picture my situation now:  I have a four year old running around half dressed so excited about going to school with no pants on, one crying 8 year old, and a really loud and angry 6 year old and it is not even 8 AM yet.)  Oy vey.  And this… this is why I am so tired much of the time.  It is not that I am actually physically tired.  I mean, sometimes by the end of the day, yes, I am tired, but much of the time, its that I am so emotionally tired from stopping the fights, holding my ground, keeping rules in place, generally keeping my little mons-ners alive.  It is actually hard and it wears me down.  And of course, the other side of this is that my mornings do not always look like that scenario.  Sometimes they are quite uneventful.  (Except for the no pants thing, that seems to happen a lot, or no shoes.)  So after making it through my daily molasses and dropping off everyone for school, I try to focus on my coffee and remember the good parts.  The parts where I get to watch them sing at church in the children’s choir while Miss S plays with her hat and Mr M waves at me so hard he can’t remember the song, the parts where I get to watch the boys play soccer while Miss S runs around the field with the other little sisters from our neighborhood, the sweet parts of settling them in at night, because I know that won’t always be there.  They will eventually be too big for me to buckle their seatbelts and too big for me to tuck in at night.  I can see it too.  I can see Mr A’s face when he wakes up in the morning with ruffled messy hair, groggy with a, “hey mom” on his way to the bathroom.  He looks older and older every day.  He’s losing the babyfat look around his face and becoming more boyish and handsome.  He’s such a little dude.  It makes me so happy and proud and so I dunno, not sad, but it does make me cry.  I’m not sure how to place the emotion actually.  I coudln’t possibly have held any of the children longer when they were babies.  I loved loved loved them as babies, but maybe awe?  Is it awe that I feel when I see them and literally feel as if I am watching them grow in front of me?  This hard work that makes me so tired, that makes my heart, soul and nerves weary, it also fills me up and makes me “go” every day.  This is what I am supposed to be doing and what makes me feel whole.  This is what all of us are supposed to be doing in some fashion or another.  Moulding each other, our communities, our friends and family, and of course, the children.

Be Fierce.  Mould a life.



DIY Spa Day


This past Monday was the first Monday of Spring Break for students in our area.  Friday was also a holiday here in observance of Good Friday and we had the Easter holiday over the weekend to rush about over.  I love holidays.  I really do, but I’m always so relieved when they’re over.

A friend of mine texted me over the weekend and said she was pretty much “done” with spring break…. and it wasn’t even Monday yet.  We decided to meet at the gym for a little do-it-yourself R & R.  After a minor debacle wherein I left my swimsuit at home and had to dash all over town to get it, I dropped off the kids at the gym childcare and made it to the pool for some doggie paddle laps.  (I didn’t have my ear plugs with me, so I needed to keep my head mostly above water.)  I tried to look dignified with a paddle board at one point, but eventually gave up.  No one was paying any attention to me anyway.  After swimming, we hit the whirlpool and then the steam room.  Ahhhh…… tension dissipating.  A long, hot leisurely toddler-free shower later and I pretty much felt like myself again.  I don’t know about yours, but my children instinctively know when I get in the shower and they instantly need me for any number of things causing multiple shower interruptions before I can even get the shampoo out of my hair.  This was a nice break.  Afterwards I even sat down with a magazine for a while until it was time for me to pick up the littles from the childcare downstairs.  I tell you, I USE that childcare at the gym down to the minute.  Really, its how I survive my summers when we’re home from traveling.  I use the childcare at the gym for my “me time”, and then I’m much more refreshed for the kiddos and we can hit the beach and picnics in the park, plus, bonus, I pretty much get forced to exercise by my kids.  LOL!

Be Fierce!  We can make it through spring break if we all support each other!  LOL!