I suck

I don't really think I suck. Not now, anyway. I have a fairly healthy level of self-worth that outweighs my level of self-loathing by a pretty high margin. But I suck at following through on my promise to this blog. Last post I promised that I would be,"back in a sec" and I'm only just doing that now. Gonna claim Mom Time (that abstract and highly subjective measurement system) on this.

So, where have I been? What's up with this epiphany I had? Here it is:

I made these stones years ago for my garden. Then my whole self-worth was tied to being a good mom- which is not a bad thing, but being a good mom isn't the only thing.

At the beginning of this year I was poised for change. The year previously had been full of exciting changes as I morphed from full-time SAHM to some pretty exciting roles. It was fun and I wanted more!

That year I began to write a weekly newspaper column and- most importantly- began to be paid for my writing which did a hell of a lot in justifying the time and energy I put into it. It also gave me a sense of validity and purpose.

And mail.

Have you ever gotten, oh this sounds pretentious- fan mail? I never did, why would I? OK, the " Worlds Greatest Mom" notes my kids have given me through the years are pretty much the most fabulous fan mail ever and very, very valuable.

But from strangers?To know that someone who has no reason to read what you write, hear what you say... to listen, is listening? It's heady. And flattering. And humbling.  And I hope that I never get used to it and take it for granted, but I also hope that I never let it be the only voice that tells me I'm doing a good job. I need to know that internally. But not excessively. That's a pretty fancy dance and I hope that I learn it with the grace an important dance like this requires.

But that wasn't the only change that year- I also began to co-host the podcast at the same time. Also life altering for the amount of work that it requires, and the people that I have met because of it- but the most amazing part for me was being asked to participate. I was a SAHM, a blogger- not a historian. But the prospect of the challenges and personal growth was overwhelming. I had to do it. Had to. Just like I had to have kids, and I had to marry the man that I did- I can't really explain it more than that.

2011 was a crazy busy and changing year and I was ready for it to continue into 2012. I was excited to see where life would take me and what windows of opportunity would allow me to leap through them. I was open for change and convinced that change would happen.

So, what happened?

Nothing. Changed

Nothing.

Standing at the open door and screaming, "Come on change! Show me my destiny!" did nothing.

(That was figurative, by the way.)

I worked editing one of the novels I had written the year before; I started a new one. I studied and wrote and wrote some more- but nothing changed. A couple things did cross my desk- one I tried and failed, one I decided wasn't worth the time that I would have had to devote to it and never leaped at it.

I felt like I was working hard and had nothing new to show for it. It was wheel-spinning at it's worst. I was frustrated. And disappointed. And really did feel like I sucked. My marriage suffered, some other personal relationships suffered- I didn't even want to be around me.

But then I had an epiphany when I stepped outside and saw those stones in my garden:

Not all years are meant for big, visable change. Some years you plant, and some years you harvest and both are of equal importance. Both create change.The harvesting years are more exciting, more visably rewarding for sure. You have something to show for the work.

But the planting years? No appreciative mail for planting, no visable ( or financial) reward for it either. But without it, you have nothing to harvest.

Nothing.

So I am still happily planting. Change will come. It may not be loud and flashy- it may just sneak up on me like it had always been there. I don't know. But until it does, I'm focusing on planting.

I'll be back in a sec...but take a moment to think about your joy

Yes, I know it's been a long time. And I'm sorry. And I'll post about why soon. BUT I wanted to slap this down here because it made me smile.

I write. I love to write. I get high writing. It is not my end all and be all, but it is one of the greatest joys in my life

A parental optimal scenario is when our kids find our life joys for themselves and you both get to splash around and play in that joy together.

Brian has Luke and sports.

I have Bekah and writing.

And then there is Noah.

He is only in second grade. He's fairly athletic but there isn't one particular sport that he seems to find his joy in. He is smart but I don't see him as being drawn to one pursuit. It will happen, Noah will find a joy. Luke found joy like that, slowly over time through grade school. I found joy like that and it took me even longer. I'm simply thrilled to be a part of his personal search and discovery journey.

In the past year or so he has been writing. School assignments, a journal, simple one page, one paragraph essays...he seems to be able to put his moods onto paper. I want to save them all, even the ones with all the spelling mistakes and anger and cross outs. But he is very prolific.

Yesterday he brought home this. He seemed very proud of it, told me that his teacher always smiles when she reads his papers and that he likes making her smile. Maybe she smiles at every paper from every kid, I don't know. But when I read this answer on a test about a book that they read in class it made me smile, too.

"Real frogs don't spend there hole day raking leves. real frogs swim all day and eat bugs so they are way different from each other. Thank you and good night."

He may still be on a journey to find his joy, but reading my kid's voice in an essay question on a test is another one of mine.

Thank you and good night!

Susan

Nothing dies on the internet

We all know (or we should) that anything that is posted online is going to live forever. OK, it might not, but we should treat everything that we post online as if it were to live forever. We should also assume that the person we would least want to see it, will. Remembering those two things will ensure that online life stays fairly drama free.

If we wanted to add on another thought- we should remember Rule 34: if it exists, there is porn of it. I'm not into that, but I twist the rule around a bit to remind myself that whatever I put on here, this blog that gets only nominal hits, can be used for gross and perverse acts. I do put  some pictures of my children here, because I use this space to keep far flung family and friends caught up on their antics. And some of those pictures are funny. And this is sort of a family memory space.

So I try to think of any possible outcome of my words, and I weigh the pros and cons before posting things on here. Obviously, I can't think of every outcome, but live with my choices to post.

Sometimes I look at my stats (they are on the rise, thanks for reading!) and today I found this way down the list of searched words that landed people here:

The post that linked to this one was a tale I recounted back in 2009 of a sweet older woman who helped get me into some icy Maine water. But the only picture on that post was this:

Not the older woman who got me into the water, but me in my (arguably) old lady swimsuit and sarong sitting on the beach in Maine.

Sigh.

Now I have to wonder if that is the old lady on the beach image that someone was looking for....and if there is an application of Rule 34 of it floating around the webs.

On the flip side, when I AM an old woman I will have this to look back on as me in my younger years. Maybe I won't cringe.

We're Just the Girls

Today Bekah and I went shopping. It was a rare trip for the two of us, usually one, or both, of the boys come along. But today, it was just us girls traipsing through Walmart, Target, a resale shop and two grocery stores. (What? I like to spread my retail expenditures all around.)

The first two stores are necessary evils as far as I am concerned. When the highlight of the trip is a new shower curtain, you know it's low on the thrill scale. Also, the music was so horrid, I won't even comment on it.

As we shopped in the first  grocery store, it was disco music that got us. This store plays 70 and 80's music loudly, which tells me that they know me. OK, it tells me that they know their demographic and I am it. My teenage daughter knows some of this music, mostly because she hangs around with me. And because she hangs around with me, she has learned to not be embarrassed. Embarrassment is futile. It won't stop me, and probably will encourage me.

Her motto: What the hell, do as Mom does.

We did our best disco moves in the bread aisle. Although, my Tony Manero saunter to the check out lines probably will appear on the Shoppers- Cam Blooper Reel at the next store employee party.

At the second grocery store they like to play more recent (last ten years) pop music. As we were leaving, pushing the final cart out of the final store into the incinerator disguised as a parking lot, we both started head banging at the same moment. And not in a subtle mature way either. Hair flying head banging. Hang onto the cart, Mama or you will fall over head banging. At the end of the chorus my daughter turned to me, laughed and said, "I love us." Heart melted like ice cream in that parking lot. Heart melt. I love us, too.

What the heck?

June 4th? That's the last time I posted?

Am I blog fading? Taking a long, slow spiral to non-postland?

No.

Have I been hospitalized or have I experienced a painful demise of key electronics?

No.

Have I been working on some really exciting new project that I'm just waiting for the right time to reveal?

No, not really. Sadly. That would have been a great excuse, but no, the reason I haven't posted isn't as exciting. It's my kids. They are fine, but active. And loud. And home.

We are planning a special vacation later this summer, one of those when personal history meets new adventures meets a really beautiful location with a lot of people who are dear to us. But this vacation is sucking up all our fun money (not that we had a lot of that to begin with), and we can't really afford many fun jaunts in the meantime. So the kids and I have been home. Together. Doesn't that sound like fun? (It can be, but usually it's not. And, before you ask, it doesn't equal a really clean house either)

So I have been home and distracted by three very different children- one of them likes to watch reality shows with me (Oddities is our newest one);one likes to make videos of him playing video games; and one likes to read, and if I sit down to read my books at the same time, she smiles. To her, this is spending quality time together.


We have been hanging out at home. except when the boys played baseball. The long, hot and painful (to me) season just ended. Luke didn't have his greatest year playing wise, and Noah is starting to figure out how to  play well and hates to lose. Luke was a great sport who didn't have a good season; Noah was a poor sport who had a pretty good season that ended with a heartbreaking nail-biting final game.

Luke has moved on to football, Noah has moved on to memorizing everything about Indiana Jones. And me/ I'm opening up the projects that have sat dormant for a couple of months. Re-reading them, re-editing them and maybe one of these days one of them will morph into one of those exciting new projects that I can share.

That's a "Duh"

The other day I was wondering why I am having such a hard time getting work done this summer. I carried on about it in a post: I feel like I am chasing my tail, getting nothing done but being exhausted from the actions.

Then I saw the forest through the trees.

OK, THEN I mixed metaphors- which is pretty much how I have been feeling this summer, so it works. But I came to see if there are any comments (you like to read, not write, I get it) and my eyes fell to the blog header.

The name of this blog. The tagline of this blog. THAT is why I am having such troubles. If the kids are home, then I am a SAHM. That is the job that needs so much of my energy. The kids questions, wants, and presence are the top and middle of my To Do List. That's what my head is telling me, anyway. (And my wallet, too, since a lot of what I do isn't exactly a huge revenue creator)

Duh.

Now...how to fix it?

All I'm seeing is trees and tail.

Got some 'splaining to do...

Can someone explain this to me: My kids are now older- 15, 13 and 7. They don't require a great deal of supervision, and the older two are more than capable of taking care of the younger one for long stretches of time. They can be given complicated lists of chores and will complete them with minimal nagging.

None of them need me to entertain them, constantly keep an eye on where they are or scan the room for dangerous objects. If I provide ingredients they can create a meal and feed themselves and- on a good day- clean up their own messes. I never vacuum, and rarely do the laundry on my own any more. It's that sweet spot of time when they are still home, still look to me for guidance, still enjoy being with me but don't have to.

Yes, they make dumb choices sometimes. Rare is the day when Luke and Noah aren't sopping wet from the hose or water-ammo'd firearms by noon. They squabble and need a referee. They want an ear to share a tale of teen drama  woe. But, for the most part, they are pretty self sufficient. At least more-so than they have been for their entire lives thus far.

So, how come I don't have more free time this summer? In theory I should have almost as much Susan Scheduled Work Time as I had when they were in school. I should be editing that thing I wrote a few months ago. I should be writing more posts on here. I should have ample time to research podcast topics. I should be ...I should be... I should be.

But no.

It has been a non-stop activity fest around here. Door slamming, "MOOOOOM" screaming, "Can I.." filled days. Some fun, some filled with projects, some not much more than a whole lot of taxiing kids hither and yon. Busy. And not at all what I thought this summer would be like.

Sigh.

I just don't get it.