Friday, December 30, 2011
Then, this morning I thought: Why am I avoiding accountability on my blog as if it was my angry father or (insert immediate family member name here) looking at me as they shake their head, half laughing, half rolling their eyes (well, my mom usually always rolls her eyes) when I lose my keys for the nth time?
Ever since I came to the realization that I suffer from ADD (about three years ago), my life started making sense. To be clear, I don't classify my ADD as a severe disability, but more of an extreme annoyance because I've had to re-learn everything about learning how to lead an organized life with kids, a husband and dog.
I mostly love my spaz-factor. Once of the sweetest things James said to me was after a night out with friends. We had been in the getting-to-know-you phase with another couple and the husband was summing up his wife in a few sentences, mainly her strengths against his weaknesses. We got in the car and James was quiet for a couple minutes, then out of nowhere said, "You know, I can't explain you in a couple sentences like he did his wife. I just can't 'box you up' like that."
And it's true. I'm a little bit of everywhere. It's a strength and weakness. I have a love-hate relationship with my ADD.
You see, us ADDers, we forget things a lot. We lose things a helluva a lot. And, when you don't have an informed family or support system to help you learn to deal with your different working brain early, it can be a disaster as you get older and are supposed to be learning how to be a responsible adult.
Let me explain "disaster". It's a disaster because, obviously, no normal person can comprehend why we can't just write a note and quit forgetting homework assignments or appointments, and they definitely can't understand WHY WE CAN'T JUST PUT OUR KEYS (or phone) IN ONE BLOODY PLACE SO WE DON'T KEEP LOSING THEM! We can't comprehend it either.
After years of trying to track things and be better, and then failing, we sort of start feeling like failures and can't understand why we keep failing, so to stop feeling like a failure we just accept it and quit trying, generally falling into a temporary depression, which we cycle out of once we get re-motivated to really change and get better at things this time (generally in the form of over-committing to something or someone), then of course we forget about it or get overwhelmed by our commitment because we can rarely ever focus long enough to follow through, so we eventually fail and our family is like, why do you keep failing, and we're all, I DON'T KNOW!
By we, I mean me.
However, now that I know that my brain just functions differently (ha ha, save the jokes, most brilliant writers and scientists are major ADD cases), I am finally able to better avoid forgetfulness, temper expectations of myself (because of the over-committing bug I get), and have learned to let the oh-you-lost-your-phone-again-I'm-soooo-shocked sarcastic comments roll off my back. But more on that later.
And now that you know that, I can tell you that our family did give the full 20 days. That I know. I don't know what we gave or who we gave to now because I've lost track, but for the sake of accountability, I'll keep it at 15 days of giving because that's how far I got in the official blog-tracking process, and my heart and conscience are happy with that.
It did change us. We're more aware of need and more willing to be aware of need. It's not easy to ignore it once you see it. I remember seeing people dig through the trash for food back home all the time and it rarely bothered me. It grossed me out more than anything. When I saw it happen not too long ago, I fought back tears. To be so hungry, so desperate for food that you sit in McDonalds and stalk the trashcan for stranger's leftovers--their trash. I don't think we could call ourselves true followers of Christ if we saw that and it didn't affect us.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
We moved down to Florida knowing James would work very long hours in a very intense, high-stress environment where egos run amuck. He averages an 11-hour workday. That means Mama sometimes has to have wine before 6pm to hold her over until Daddy gets home, or until the girls fall asleep.
I was very busy feeling overwhelmed by my case of the Mondays all day. Isabella was giving me a hard time about school work and Paloma decided she wants to only nap once a day.
Once the girls fell asleep I was busy rotting my brain on Facebook and saw my step-niece's status update, asking for donations for two families that lost everything, even their cars, in a fire. One father ran back into his home to rescue the dog and neither him or the dog made it out alive. Click here for an update on the story.
I clicked on the link. Browsing the local news site for more information on how or where to donate, I saw an article about a little girl whose body was discovered in a dumpster. No cause of death had been immediately available, but the article did note that the girl, 7-years-old, had been missing for a few days, had been severely beaten, and, been sexually assaulted.
James and I wrote a check to the families in Colorado and I prayed for the little girl's family, and was oddly moved to pray for her killer. That was a first for me. Usually I just hope they rot in hell and move on.
Child and animal neglect and abuse are the most sickening, gut-wrenching crimes to me. It's something that's even difficult for me to read about or watch on the news. However, reading the stories brought a sobering, humbling perspective to my self-centered, "woe is me!" frame of mind.
God's blessed us so much. It's so easy to forget, especially when days are long, the kids aren't obeying my exact orders and poor Hannah just needs to go out once more to pee, right when I want to sit and take a breath.
It's motherhood. It's raising a family. It's hard work. If my ankle bitters, dog and husband all went away tomorrow, you'd have to spoon-feed me Prozac with a side of Adderall to have me even consider taking another breath without them by my side.
For someone with a such boisterous personality that never had any trouble making friends, it was really, really difficult for me to readjust to life in DC when I moved home from Knoxville, Tenn. (The Tennessee thing will make more sense after you read this.) I actually didn't want to move back home at all. But the job market for someone looking for a career in political journalism isn't exactly happening in Knoxville, so it just wasn't realistic for me to stay there.
Once settled back home, I thought I would pick up where I left off and find a flurry of Christian friends at whatever church I ended up choosing. I was so wrong.
I don't know what it is about Bible Belt Christians, but it's vastly different from the Christians I found at home. Sad thing is, I've found I'm not alone in feeling what I can only describe as Christianity culture shock in churches and their communities outside the Bible Belt. It's just different.
Even as a mom, surrounded by moms on Sundays as we dropped our kiddos off at daycare and Sunday school, I couldn't find or make friends. I started to think something was wrong with me and fell into depression, in part, from feeling the spiritual isolation. I didn't realize it was so difficult for women to make friends. Let me clarify: I didn't realize it was so difficult for Christian women to find and make Christian friends.
This post has a happy ending, though. After what I thought was entirely too long, I finally had a breakthrough with two girls in my small group study of the life-altering, ridiculously phenomenal book, Boundaries. Through the study, the three of us faced some ugly, ugly issues and insecurities, laughed and cried about them, and bonded. Post-boundaries, we try our best to keep one another accountable, ensuring we apply what we learned in our lives so we don't go crazy.
But, we all slip up, and subsequently feel like we're going crazy. Enter long phone conversations since my move to Florida. We have had to be intentional about our phone dates. It takes time and commitment, but it's worth it. Sunday was a commitment night, and it was so worth it.
Monday, December 5, 2011
What a day.
It started early for a Saturday, but no one else takes Hannah to the dog beach if I don't.
I'm not throwing a pity party for myself, in fact it's quite the contrary. Since the chaos of daily life has taken a toll on my diet, I'm no longer at a healthy weight (or can manage to keep myself hydrated enough) to run long distances, and I miss it terribly. I can't think of much that makes me as happy or peaceful as my long runs with Hannah.
When I see her rolling around in the sand on our trips to the dog beach, splashing and swimming in the water, running across green open space to fetch her ball, it's like I'm on the Mount Vernon trail again with her on a brisk morning run.
So, see, no pity party, just an early morning after two or three weeks sans dog beach, which let me sleep in some, which was nice.
I met one of my lifelong friends for dinner tonight. We were partners in crime when I was in high school, going out every night to dance salsa at one of the clubs in downtown DC. I was 17.
It's so nice to just sit and talk to an old friend. Someone who's seen so much of your ugly and insecure and loved you through it all. We'd lost touch throughout most of my 20s (I'm 29), but thankfully through the wonders of Facebook, we reconnected and now live about an hour from each other.
So, even though I had a great time and it wasn't painful, I'm counting that as my giving.
That's the thing, though. Why should giving be painful? Had I thought twice about the drive or having to pick something other than sweats to wear, I could have easily talked myself into staying home and watching the SEC Championship game with James.
Make and give time to good friends.
It's so easy, even for me who's always looking for alone time, to make excuses, push dates aside and say "next time".
We talked about God, boundaries, her crazy allergies to butter, egg and dairy, her little bun in the oven, and of course, our kids.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
We met James for what's become our weekly Friday lunch dates at the downtown market. They have great food (the Wicked Witches food truck sandwiches are to die for), and we always bring home some of Miss Pat's delicious double chocolate chip cookies.
As we were eating our lunch two kids rolled by in their wheelchairs and asked if we wanted to shoot a basket from a wheelchair to help raise money for the Tampa Paralympics. Neat little fundraising event, it's called Holiday Hoops for Hope. For $5 you can see for yourself what it's like to shoot a basket from a wheelchair. Isabella was thrilled at the opportunity. Unfortunately, by the time we made it to the table to pay and line up to shoot a basket, they had a presentation of the money they raised or something like that. I'm not too sure what was going on but we couldn't wait the 20 minutes for it to wrap up because Paloma hadn't taken her morning nap and was nearing a meltdown. Instead we donated the money and headed home.
I wish Isabella would have gotten a chance to shoot, but at least we got to give. And, it was also a teachable moment.
After the kids stopped at our little table to hand us a flyer, I asked her, "We don't really think of it as a blessing that our legs work, huh?"
Silence. I could see the wheels turning. She shook her head.
In all honesty, it was a teachable moment for both of us. It's so easy to get caught up in our own worlds, full of our own problems, mostly oblivious to everything we already have. This isn't to dismiss real problems and issues, it's just that at the very least, we were able to appreciate one of the more overlooked blessings in our lives and appreciate the determination and vigor of kids that go full speed despite facing tangible challenges everyday of their life.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Days are full of errands, teaching, taking the dog out, exercising the kids, feeding the kids, prepping them for bath and bed, and the list goes on. My breakfast was a very nutritious Diet Coke. I had given James a hard time for buying so much soda at the grocery store (it was something like 24 cans for $6), but now I'm sort of glad he did since I didn't have a chance to brew coffee.
The nugget of wisdom today is this: wake up before everyone else in the house. It is life-altering.
When I wake up early, have my quiet time and just sit before the day starts, it's a lot easier to get through the day.
I had to go to the store for diapers and some minor groceries, and stop in at Michael's for our Christmas tree supplies. But diapers, that was No. 1 on the agenda.
Diapers didn't make it into my shopping cart, but everything else did. It wasn't until James was looking for one to change Paloma that it hit me. So she has a swimming diaper on for now. It works.
Keep calm and carry on.
Since the day went by in the blink of an eye, I had planned to donate to a charity online, but I unwittingly dozed off with Paloma when I put her down for the night.