Holiday Psychology

Like many, I have been pondering on the blessings that my family and I have received. It has been a busy week. One that I was half dreading and half looking forward to I suppose. After much debate, my parents came to see us for Thanksgiving. They helped take care of my boys while I worked since the boys got the day before Thanksgiving off of school and I did not. I was grateful for their help and for my dad's handyman skills. It really is a blessing to have such a wonderful dad and mom.

I haven't felt very holiday-y. I think I have just sort of tromped my way through the other years of holidays, and I truly just wanted to sleep for four days with this Turkey Day. But I realize in hindsight how good it is to have family to keep me going when I don't feel like it at all.

My parents were fine with going out to eat Thanksgiving dinner somewhere. While some probably think that's a sin, with little ones who don't like everything Thanksgivingish in the first place, it made more sense in my mind. In the end, the hassle of taking the boys out to eat exhausted my brain too. We simplified Thanksgiving and bought rotisserie chicken and fixed only the must-have sides...and bought everything else. It was the easiest Thanksgiving ever, and as long as it is my job to do Thanksgiving, I will do it that way again.

My mom helped me with something that has been plaguing my brain for a long while--she helped me clean my basement. It is now gorgeous--as good as an unfinished basement can be. I have been making my own sort of woman-cave down there and so I took a huge visit to Goodwill today and got rid of a lot of things. Lots. And it feels so very good.

As we worked in the basement, it was interesting the things that I still can't give up. I am still not ready to go through "the box" of stuff from the crash. I've tried several times and I just can't do it. I'm getting closer though, I can feel it. Among other things, I still can't give up a certain few infant-baby items in the basement. It feels too final to get rid of things, things that I still so desperately want. I've given myself a three year timeline. I figure, I won't be having more kids after age 36 no matter what so it'll have to go at that point. But for now, I just am not able to accept the fact that this is it. It doesn't feel right.

A lot of the things we sorted were things that Adam was in the midst of helping me sort. Kids toys. Stuff I haven't wanted to part with. Boxes that hadn't been sorted since long before Adam's death. Purely psychological.

At one point, my mom said, "You don't really want me to DO anything, do you. You really just want me here to be here in the room while you work." Yes. ABSOLUTELY. That is the story of much of my life. I think a lot of the things I feel stuck in are not necessarily about physical help. Well, I mean, some ARE. But for day to day tasks that I just can't bring myself to do, it is only a matter of having someone--an ADULT someone--to talk to. Who will just chat with me while I work. Adam was that someone. He would sit at the kitchen table after work while I cooked or washed dinner dishes. He would sit in the living room while I paid bills. He'd sit on the bed in our room while I worked in our bedroom, or in the family room while I sorted dirty clothes...or folded clean ones. It's not to say that he didn't do anything, because he did A LOT. But for me to focus sometimes simply required me to have a 'real' reason to work. I suppose my kids give me a real reason to work out of the home now...but not really in our home. Psychology is so stupid.

I gave my brother my--our--old Christmas tree. After my parents' visit, they loaded up their car with stuff I wanted to get rid of (that hopefully will be useful to them) and took it to them. I was glad they took my Christmas tree. Like many things that I've gotten rid of, that tree had many reasons for needing a vacay from my house. We bought that tree the year after our first Christmas together, 12 years ago. It was a pain to put up, sticking each branch into the metal 'trunk' and then messing with the lights. But like many things, it became a focus of many traditions. We put it up for what was to be our last time the last Christmas we had with Adam, and then it wasn't the last time. And that bugged me the last two years in a row as I've put it up. I saw the perfect sized tree when I was shopping the other week, saw that it was pre-lit, and knew it was the one. It took me less than 10 minutes to put it up yesterday. It is perfect. Although that is the extent to my Christmas spirit at this point. I like going into the living room and admiring the lights--with no ornaments. Apparently the kids do too. I keep having to shoo them upstairs to bed after they've snuck downstairs. It secretly makes me smile, even though I have to put on my mean mom face (that is around most of the time these days, it seems).

Why are traditions so darn hard? Why did we have so many of them? It's not just about family traditions, but traditions as a couple. I haven't been able to get to a good place with any of them, they just simply make me sad. Very.

I'm tired of being sad. I'm ready for something new and happy and exciting in my life. It's like, I want so much to have something to look forward to, and yet I feel sort of defeated, like it isn't really possible. Is it a lack of faith, or more of disillusionment. Maybe both. But I still feel the nagging phrase of "prepare" come to my mind a lot. Maybe it gives me a little hope, like there may really be something for which to prepare.

I sure hope so.

I'm sort of hoping that lucky #13 will be a year of good things to come for me and the boys.

Our 13th anniversary is around the corner.

Morning Ramblings

Carson woke up in what I 'thought' was the middle of the night. I was so dazed and exhausted that I just wanted his crying to stop and his request for a drink to be fulfilled. I scooped him up and put him in my bed and grabbed the empty sippy cup off of my nightstand and filled it with water in my bathroom. You see, in the one-parent infant/toddler exhaustion, there have been a few things I've learned to attempt to maximize my sleep. Sippy cup preparedness is one of them. I guess I've been conditioned by my kids. Oh yeah. It was only midnight when this whole adding of a 2 year old to my bed business happened.

As it has been one of the worst nights' sleep in a while, I pondered on this. Carson likes to cuddle. Like, no amount of scooting the kid over to the other side of the bed keeps him there. He MUST touch me somehow. I think it's because I'm warm and because he refuses to wear pjs. Every night I put him in pajamas and every night I come in after he's fallen asleep and he's taken them off. Crazy kid.

I don't sleep well with kids in my bed. Like, AT ALL.

And it got me thinking. Could I be married again and have someone sleep in my bed? I'm not so sure.

Not that that matters exactly right now. Just been thinking. I'm definitely at the point where I need to decide. Am I going to be stubborn and 'wait' for Adam. DO this whole alone-single-mom stuff alone, and be OK with it?

I realize that I'm not getting any younger. The kids are only getting older. Any change to where we live needs to happen soon if it's going to happen. Like, after this school year soon.

I've looked at options. Do I move near my parents in Nashville since I know this is likely their final move around the country. Do I stay. Do I go to Utah. Do I find some place new to start over fresh.

Note, there aren't question marks after any of those questions. I feel like they're all statements in my head that I'm weighing carefully. I feel like none of those decisions makes complete sense nor is one decision better than the other.

I like my job, but I am well aware that this won't be a permanent "forever" job, due to some of its limitations.

I still like the idea of going back to school. Maybe once all the boys are in school.

In the meantime, I know that the boys need more space. To live in a climate where they can be outside more than only a couple months out of the year. They are BOYS. They need the chance to be boys.

I suppose that line of thinking makes me think, yet again, that I do need to remarry.

Argh. It's amazing how certain thoughts are still circular, even after 27 months. I guess I was mistaken in thinking that if I started working, I would seem to have life figured out. Guess not!

I love my job. It is a good fit right now. Especially the hours. Being done at 3pm and not having to wake up at the crack of dawn is perfect for my sleep regimen.

I have a thankful heart. For my friends who watch my boys and make this work thing 'work' for our family. For those who still stand by us. For those who understand that while much healing has taken place, the scars of what we have been through and my heart that is still broken for what we have lost....who still have understanding that we aren't 'over it.' We'll never be.

As usual. I'm just trying to cope, day by day. And many times, simply minute by minute.