I'm Not Ready Yet.

12:30 p.m.

I'm sitting on the chair watching the day unfold around me. There is so much going on at this moment but I do not feel like I am a part of any of it. The long list of things I need to do today is rolling around in my mind but I cannot push myself to even begin. It is like time is frozen somewhere, although I know it is not. 

Each second that passes brings a heavy wave of guilt. I know I should be doing.... 

something. 

I can't put my thoughts in order. I can't slow the cycle of worry or fear that seems to keep welling up inside me. My heart is somewhere else. With my child. A big day for us, for him, as he discovers a new world that is just waiting to open up for him.

I'm filled with pride at the way he just steps forward into the adventure, much like the first day of kindergarten several years ago. He is nervous, but he doesn't let it show. Maybe he knows I'm feeling it for both of us. Maybe there is a small part of him that knows I will be a mess for both of us. Like he can just peek into my eyes and transfer the fear into me.

It seems like nothing in so many ways. Every child every where eventually has to move up in the world. Take on new territory and face the unknown of a new school. It's not something we can avoid. But this boy, my first born, clutches a piece of my soul unlike my other children. We are connected in such a different way. 

Every year, a child moves on. Every day, a child grows up. Every single minute, another mother somewhere is facing this feeling of dread. That this one step into a new school, out of the world of elementary, is stealing a part of the child they are living to protect and guide. This is a giant step towards independence. Every day is a step towards letting our children go.

I'm proud of him. 

I'm thrilled at the way he can keep pushing himself forward.

I wish that I could do the same. But I'm can't. I am stuck. I am consumed with worry and fear and hope. The phone rings suddenly, temporarily breaking the cycle in my mind. My heart stops, my breath freezes in my throat and I force myself to the display on the telephone. "Please, don't be the school" I pray feverishly. I press myself forward and look, feelings of relief washing over me when it's someone else, 

anyone else.

Everything has always seemed so hard for this boy. Like he was born to always have the short end of the stick. There are always roadblocks, or at the very least speed-bumps in the the course of his life so far. I envy the way he just keeps going. I wish that I could close my mind and just move forward. If there is a defective toy in our house, it was his Christmas gift. His batteries die first. If someone is going to get hurt during something fun or exciting, it's going to be him and it's going to be bad.  He's cautious and careful, but not consumed by fear. Somehow, no matter what goes wrong, he just keeps going. And it's always hard to watch.

Today, I can't be there. Today, I desperately want to be there. In the shadows of that big school, watching over him. Protecting him from anyone who might not understand. He's facing a whole new world full of people who don't know him, don't know his temperament or needs. They don't know he has Tourettes, or anything else. In their eyes, he's just another kid. And I'm obsessively thinking over all of the worst case scenarios.

Logic tells me he'll be fine. As I just wrote, he always keeps pushing. He always keeps going. I know that he'll be fine. But I'm terrified for him. I'm frozen in time, yet every second slowly pounds by. Someone did the dishes. Someone washed the floor. Someone played with Angel Baby after she had breakfast.  But I'm quite sure it wasn't me. My body is barely in a functional place. I'm unable to do anything more than I have to. I just need to make it until 3... then I can breathe and life can resume.

3:00 p.m.

I arrive at the school with my loving trucker who was home early from work on the most appropriate day. We are early, so we sit in the truck a little longer and play with the Angel Baby. She is only a little confused to be picking up Macboy at 'the big school' but is happy to wait with us.

I brace myself and step out of the truck. I remind myself as I walk to the doors that having no phone calls means that nothing major went wrong.  I have tears creeping into the corners of my eyes. So much concern for the reaction waiting inside for me.  What if he hated it? What if it was horrible and long and boring and he regrets asking to go?  What if he's upset, or crying already?  How could I calm him? Maybe I should have waited before handing in our paperwork!

I am nearing the office where I'm supposed to meet him. Feeling like a child in so many ways, I try to shake off the worry that just doesn't matter. In seconds I will know the results of the day. I wipe my face, pull my head up high and paste the biggest smile I can on my face. Stepping around the corner, I can see my boy inside, facing away from me.

He's leaning on a railing, facing the teacher. His shoulders are slumped and he's already got his coat and backpack ready. He hears me coming and turns to me. I can't read the expression on his face as he greets me. "Cool. You're here. Let's go."

My heart drops. He's in a rush to leave. This can't be good.

As he walks to the door of the office, he starts telling me about baking cookies in Foods. I asked if he saved any for me and he says "Actually, YES." To which the teacher replies "Hey! I asked if you saved any and you said no!"  Macboy starts grinning and walks back in. This is when the breath returns to my lungs and my heart starts beating at a normal pace. He's laughing and joking with the teacher, he's smiling wider than I've seen in a while and Much Bigger than I've seen on a MONDAY in ages!

9:00 p.m.

We've had some great discussions about the day. I've told him how proud I am that he just walked through a day that could have been very scary for some kids. He admits he was nervous at first and some parts were hard, but he is in love with this school. I am so happy that he's had this opportunity.

I'm slightly frustrated at my lack of ... well, anything... all day. But I knew my heart was in the right place. I can't be angry with myself for worrying, even if it was more than most people might do.  I'm just not ready for this boy to grow up. We are connected. I know he feels my pains, my stresses and my joys. I feel all of his too, very intensely. So maybe, I just helped him carry the nervousness through the day. Maybe he knew he wasn't alone and maybe that makes it worth it.

Seeing him so happy made every second of my anguish worth it.

I will never stop worrying about any of my kids.

That's just my job.

Drowning In Paper!

The Never-Ending Inbox

I've finally got my office set out the way that I want it and have started flushing the whole house for loose papers. It's amazing the number of places I can stash stuff.  Catching up to my filing feels good though and I'm really happy to know where to look when I need something.  I do find it easier having some things online, but I still need copies of some items too. Our school system has an online delivery system for newsletters and other papers, which reduces my paper intake quite a lot. The only item I tend to actually print is the monthly events calendars, so I can match it up easily to my other calendars.  

Macboy will make the transition to Junior High next year and with him being such an exceptional kind of kid it has been fairly stressful already. Researching and contacting schools, meetings with teachers, taking notes, making notes, reviewing notes, notes, notes, notes!!  I think that we've finally gotten things relatively settled now and good plans in place. 

Then I start reviewing the registration process. While a portion is done online, there are so many papers that I have to look over and submit manually too. I'M NOT READY!!  But, I have to be, so I guess I will set aside time this evening to review it all and get started.

I'm excited for him, this is a great opportunity. He's chosen a very different school for next year. The changes frighten me and our history with him worries me. But I see a spark of interest and I will fan that sucker whatever way I can. Being a child who grew up hating school, I will do what I can to encourage him if he finds an interest to chase.  I didn't find anything special at school until the end of grade 10, if I hadn't stumbled in to that I'm sure I would not have graduated. And certainly never would have made it to any sort of college.

Wish us luck!!

We've been having an exceptionally warm winter so far and my family has been taking advantage of it when we can. Getting out sledding with the kids was so worth the effort of getting ready. We spent a full afternoon in our own back yard building a hill from the snow off the deck. Now that it's been so warm, our hill is slick with ice and the boys are loving it.  Today was the kind of day that made for a nice walk in the sun to the school. Angel Baby didn't want to get in the van, so I just finally agreed. I really enjoyed the walk, and even more I enjoyed that no one complained about it!

I've been reading a ton lately and working on my writing skills. My dreams are feeling closer as I travel through stages of writing.  I've read that "a real writer writes because they need to, not because they want to be published."  I'm not sure I agree completely, but it does make sense.  I write all the time, journals and stories and random observations. I won't stop if I never publish anything, but I do dream of seeing my name on the cover of a book one day. 

Who knows, it might just end up being something I get printed in just one copy, for myself or my kids. A collection of "mom stories" and nothing more. The passion is to write. The dream is to be published. I suppose it stems from that part of my mind that constantly seeks approval. Being published means that someone agrees that I CAN write.  Writing, by itself, just proves that I have way to many things in my mind. Hahaha...

I'd get farther if I could get better at turning off the internal editor that wants the perfect paragraph before I start the next one, and just get the ideas flowing OUT.  I run into myself and get in my own way often and run right out of motivation sometimes.  I'm still such a paper kind of girl. Knowing that if I write on paper, I will still eventually need to type it out can get a bit frustrating sometimes. 

And of course... 

it just means more paper work to deal with later.

A Bedtime Story - Sort Of

When Macboy was little, he was a very easy child. Partly because he was my only child at the time, but overall he was a pretty easy going boy.  For the first few months, he slept with me a lot. I was nursing and the Trucker and I were not living together, so it was just the easiest option for me to get some sleep. When the time came to move to his crib, the adjustment took commitment, but it wasn't very hard to get him to sleep on his own. I could put him down sleepy and he would fall asleep. When he came out of the crib, he adjusted well to the big boy bed with just a story and a few snuggles at night. In fact, those short snuggles lasted for a long time.

Art was not a difficult baby, but he certainly wasn't as easy as Macboy. He made almost the same progression as Macboy from sleeping beside me to a cradle beside my bed, then the crib. I was unable to nurse him so there wasn't as much opportunity or need to pull him in beside me. The Trucker was living here by then as well, and my super paranoid mom brain couldn't take it. Those nights that Art did sleep between us I woke up in so much pain from holding my arm just above him with a hand out so that the Trucker couldn't roll back and on to him!

Art was not as easy to get to sleep. In fact, he is still hard to get to bed and he's almost 8. In the crib, he would play, even if there were no toys he'd find some imaginative way to occupy himself. I'd have to go back and lay him down again. Sometimes there were songs, some stories. Often I would sit with my arm squeezed through the rails and rub his back or pat his bottom until he finally drifted off.  Then came the morning that I woke up and he was sitting on his dresser. Calling me out of my slumber through the baby monitor, just like any other day. Until I got to his room, of course! Imagine my shock at that sight!  His dresser was about a foot and a half AWAY from his crib and the mattress was as low as it could get.

Yep, it was definitely time for a big kid bed. 

That was painful. That was the day that Macboy's bedtime snuggles ended. Art would not stay in bed, or even in his room, for any amount of pleading. I tried all the tips from the books. Being silent. No eye contact, no words and just guide him back to bed. Yeah. Right. Just that easy. That book said a week or two should make a substantial difference. I did this for hours... for more than a month... and I ended up awake until at least midnight.... many, many nights. So, I gave up that trick. I tried slowly easing my way out of his room.  First sitting on the side of his bed, then a few days later I'd move to the floor. A few more days and I'd start inching closer to the door. I had to sit for hours, again. He just did not go to sleep. And no, for the record, it was NOT because he needed to drop his naptime. He hadn't napped since the day he got out of the crib. Actually, I think most days he didn't sleep much IN the crib at naptime. I just penned him in!

I finally thought it was going to work, I was almost sitting in the doorway and he would stay in his bed. He wasn't sleeping, but he wasn't getting up. So, one day I bravely slipped around the corner. Completely out of sight. END. OF. THE. WORLD. That was the LAST time this trick worked. Night after night, I was inching back in to his room instead. 

I felt like the worst parent EVER. I couldn't get this kid to sleep in any reasonable amount of time. I was tempted to just put a lock on the door and not pay attention to any noises or crying. But I'm a super paranoid sort, so that was just out of the question.  Finally, I just caved in and laid down beside him every night. Most nights it was less than a half hour until he was snoring. Some nights longer, but still light years better than it was before. I had to make up my snuggle time with Macboy at other times as I was never able to get back to him. The minute I left Art, he was out of bed.  

By the time I could actually get Art to stay in bed without me for at least a little time, Macboy was 'too old' for that stuff anyway. Sad to say... he still needs to be chased back to bed WAY too many times everyday.

Angel Baby was easy. A few months close to mommy, a few months in the bassinet, then straight to the crib in her own room. I could put her down wide awake in her crib and she'd go to sleep. Well, she'd dance and jump and rock for awhile but I didn't have to go back in there.  When the crib broke, she transitioned into a big bed pretty easy. I learned fast that I needed to keep her in her room but I wasn't going to be in there like I was with Art. So I put a baby gate in her doorway. As long as the gate is there, she'll get in her bed, do her little rocking dance and go to sleep. It doesn't even have to be latched in or locked. I don't even have to cover the whole door way. If she sees that, she stays in bed.

But crazy as I am, I have decided that she is big enough to have the freedom. Here and there I have had nights with no gate at all. When she wakes up she comes to get me. I guess I'm having a harder time with her on this because she doesn't talk as much as the boys did at this age. I feel like I can't explain to her that she needs to get me first.  I think I'm overthinking. I've never tried to explain it before and yet, that is what she does. 

Every morning, when I get up, I remove the gate. She wakes up, goes to my room to see if I'm there and if I'm not, she comes upstairs. I am always the first person she looks for.  I think she'll be fine.  I think I might go insane and worry like the donkey that I usually am in the scenarios, but I think she will be just fine.

I'm not really ready for my last baby to grow up, but I'm not going to keep holding her back either.  Wish me luck on this adventure!  I'm definitely looking forward to not having any baby gates in my house! (at least, not for my own kids.)

A Really Good Book And A Cup Of Tea

I've been through a rough patch, I'd say. It seems like each step forward meant another back. I haven't been going backwards, I just haven't been going anywhere! One thing after another. There is always another fire to put out somewhere. We finally catch up and then WHAM. Someone gets sick! Worst of it all is that I was the sick one. Seems like everyone kind of forgets how to live when a mommy gets sick. We're on the road to recovery. I hope.

Busy is good. Slowing down is good too.  I'm getting much better at taking time for myself and I think that's why I'm still moving. I've been keeping up with my exercise, well trying anyway. I've been playing with the kids, taking more family time and I've been reading.

A Lot.

I love reading. I love escaping to different worlds and losing myself in the characters. I love sharing the heartaches and fears. I love the suspense of 'what's on the next page?' I am terrible for starting a book and just getting lost in it. I've told you that before!  

Over the holidays, I read a ton. I read kids stories, of course. Christmas poems and songs. I read murder mystery, true crime and horror. I read teen lit and a little romance.  Do I have a preference in genre? No.  I tend to read more mystery and horror, but I'm really just a fan of a good book. A good writer can pull you into the story and nothing else matters. It reads so comfortably, it's just like reading a letter from a loved one. It feels right.

I find that if I get through the second chapter and I'm not totally engrossed in it, I will probably not finish it. That being said, there are a very small few books that I've picked up and not finished.  I love to read.

I greatly enjoy the way that my kids seem to have this same love of books. It thrills me to see them tear through a story in a day. they are both reading chapter books and novels now.  I hope they always love reading the way we all do now.

It reinforces my desire to write. I want to be that writer. I want some one else to pick up my writing and get lost in my characters. I want someone to feel the emotions I'm sharing. I want spread the feeling I get from every book I read. 

A smile, a tear, a giggle... a papercut from flipping pages so fast!

I'm still dreaming big. The difference now is that I'm acting on those dreams. I'm taking small steps to make it real.  One day, you will be able to buy MY book. I'm making no promises on the final outcome. I can't even promise what kind of book it will be. But I will live to see my name in print!

This post is actually my 100th post on Wendy Can't Cook. It has been so much fun to write and share my odd little mind with you for just over a year now. It's been a rollercoaster in many ways and I'm just so happy you came by to take a look.

Here's to another year and another 100 posts or more!

Did You Miss Me?

Hey... Check it out. I have a blog!

Duh...

Where have I been? Lost, I guess.  I've been chasing dreams and chasing kids.  I've been doing a lot of really miscellaneous things. I guess I just sort of lost sight of my own dreams for awhile. See, I was writing a lot for a while, running two blogs and working and chasing kids. Finding occasional snippets of time to write something bigger and reading a LOT. Then someone said something to me that stung. I think it was along the lines of "oh, that blog thing."

To me, it wasn't just a 'blog thing', it was much more. I was meeting new people from all over the place and getting involved in a different community. I was enjoying my time writing and releasing so many thoughts from my mind that were just filling it up and preventing it from working right. It was giving me pride, that so many people would come back and read more. It was giving me that missing sense of accomplishment.  I can complete a lot of things in a day, but I really didn't care about those. I cared about finishing a post, no matter how small. And then watching to see how many people actually read it.

So, this little side comment should not have affected me. It became apparent that those closest to me thought it was just a way to ignore the other parts of my life that were, by their definitions, more important. I floundered for a while, I still tried to post now and then but meet my obligations. Then eventually it slowed to a stop. It's been much too long since I've been here.

I'm not going to say I haven't done anything for myself in this time. I've been writing still, just on paper more often. I was even at a point where after working on the computer for my job, I just didn't want to be on it anymore. If I couldn't easily do something from my phone, I just didn't do it.  I've been getting to the gym, spent a lot of time working for charity causes, playing with my kids. I've read more novels in the last few months than I have read in the last few years. I just didn't come back here.

Oh... dear blogger... as weird as you may act sometimes, I really missed you! 

I lost sight of what I was doing. I eventually lost sight of everything again. I got so wrapped up in just a few small things that I forgot why I started it. Yes, all of you who read what I write are important to me. I want to share something important, useful, enjoyable.

I started off that way. Then I also got caught in a rush of how to do it right... You must post everyday, you must have pictures, you must, must must......

You must write because you have something worth saying. I don't want to write fluffy crap. I don't want to write because I feel obligated to. I want to write because I am inspired. I want to write because I have something worth sharing. I want to write something that I would like to read. If I write everyday, it just doesn't flow that way.

So, I'm coming back. I won't always have pictures. I won't be here everyday. I won't feel like this is something I have to do.  AND more importantly, I will not allow those around me to make me feel like writing, whether here or on paper or even on the back of an envelope if that's all I have, is not important. It's important to me. I never let the blog get in the way of my responsibilities no matter what anyone else may have thought.

This blog has been my lifeline in times of need, my outlet when my heart was breaking and my own piece of property where I could openly and honestly laugh at myself. 

It is not dying. It is not forgotten.

I thank each and everyone of you who have helped me reach my own little milestones so I could eat cake along the way to where I am now (and to those of you who wish to help me hit 100 likes on facebook so I can have more). I thank you for your words of encouragement, your shared stories and your patience.

Another lesson I had to learn the hard way for the ten millionth time... What others say should not affect your choices. Life is not lived if you worry about what others think before you do what you feel right doing.  Not in the playground, not at school, not in real life and not here. This is Wendy's space.

Wendy Can't Cook... well, she can, but she aims to keep expectations low so she doesn't have to cook more than necessary!