May
17
2013

Barely Hanging On

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465 days of loving more all together, 36 days year 2

“But mommy, alllll my friends have lost a tooth, why haven’t I? It’s not fair. It’s so not fair. The tooth fairy will never come. I am so unlucky.”

This has been the standard statement shared passionately with me by my six and a half year old every night at bedtime for the past oh, I don’t know, eighteen months? Needless to say, the question has been getting old. But I get it. He wants to feel like a big kid like his friends. He wants to let go of his baby teeth. Okay, maybe I don’t totally get it because I don’t really want him to loose his baby teeth. I don’t really want him to be a big kid, but oh, I can’t deny his strong desire to grow up. I can’t deny the truth in his emotions; I can’t deny that growing up is going to happen; I can’t deny him the excitement of looking forward to loosing his first tooth just because I am not ready for the tooth fairy to be part of my life.

So every night for the past eighteen months or so, I have shared my somewhat standard statement,

“Oh buddy, I know. It is hard. But your teeth will come out when they are ready. Everyone is a little different and does things at different times and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you aren’t a big kid just because you haven’t lost a tooth. It will happen soon. I promise, it will.”

And it did. One promise I made finally came true. Last Saturday, out of the blue #1 came running up to me and said,

“Mommy, mommy, I finally have a loose tooth!!! See, see?!!”

I looked. And I looked.  And I even wiggled it with him. And I have to admit. I jumped up and down with excitement with him like I was a six year old losing my first tooth. I was so happy for him. Seeing the sparkle in his eyes, the pride on his face, the joy emanating from every aspect of him, it was, well, contagious. My baby was so happy. No, my big boy was so happy. A little bit of my heart cried, but mostly it felt the happiness.

It’s been a fun week, being on tooth watch and all. Everyday at school pick-up I’d ask,

“And, and? Do we still have all our teeth?”

He would joke and say, “Nope! I lost it! Just kidding mom, fooled ya!”

Today was no different except this time he asked me,

“Mommy, when is it ever going to fall out?”

“When it is ready. That tooth is teaching you patience. It is teaching you how to stay calm when super excited!”

“ARGH!” he grumbled and curdled up into his car seat.

Fast-forward three hours. All four boys and myself are hanging out in the doctor’s office waiting to check #4’s lungs. I use the term hanging out loosely; really we were all trying to not bump into each other and bother each other in the cramped space! The only thing hanging out was #1’s tooth. As he sat there, I said,

“Hey, let’s check out that tooth. Maybe we could have Dr. K pull it out while we are here?” I then looked at it, touched it ever so gently and changed my statement, “Hey #1, that tooth is going to fall out any moment. It is barely hanging on!!!”

The nurse came in and started doing stats and everything. #1 sat patiently on his chair; his tongue not so patient as it pushed the loose tooth back and forth, giving me the heebee jeebez.

“Hey Nurse L, I have a loose…”

PING!

“What was that?” asked Nurse L.

“MY TOOTH! MY TOOTH! Don’t move it is next to your foot!” he screeched as blood oozed out of his mouth.

And sure enough, this perfect little white tooth lay on the floor. We scooped up the tooth and carefully wrapped it in a homemade gauze pocket.

“#1, yes, you may hold your tooth in your pocket. BUT do not take it out. You are a big boy with big teeth coming in and this is a big responsibility.”

“I got it mommy,” he said.

I knew it was risky but he was so happy, proud, and excited. I just couldn’t deny him of that by holding the tooth. And besides, I have to let him grow up and learn. Well, I must say I think he grew up a lot today, and not just because he lost his tooth, but because he lost it twice. Driving home from the doctor, I heard a very feeble,

“Mommy, I didn’t listen. I took my pocket out of my pocket. And I dropped it in the worst place possible.”

I didn’t think that was possible. I mean I did, but really, REALLY?!!

“Did you take the tooth out of the pocket?” I asked nervously.

“What do you think?” he cried.

“Where is it?”

“In the worst place possible, I already told you.”

Trust me when I say, this is one hole in the car you don’t want to have to put your hand in. It collects EVERYTHING. Gross! The things we do for love….

And that my friends, was the truth. There was no denying it. You know that small, dark hole that is folds and folds of fabric where the seat belt recesses into? The dark hole that collects cheerios and spilled milk and dust and grossness over the years, and in this case, three years? The hole that you can barely get a finger in to scoop things out? Yeah, that hole. That is where the tooth fell.

I got home and immediately started trying to get it out. #1 sat on the driveway crying. I felt so incredibly bad for him I felt the loss too. My heart ached with him.

“Will you find it mommy? I can’t believe I lost my favorite tooth. Now the tooth fairy will never ever come! I’m so stupid!” he whaled.

Meanwhile, three other children climbed all over the back seat and me as I tried desperately to get the small tooth. Every time they moved, the tooth fell deeper into the hole. Every time I thought I had it, I pulled out a blooming Cheerio. Every time someone moved closer to me, I moved closer to yelling. Every time #1 whaled, I thought, “yeah, I told you to listen.” Every time I thought that, my heart ached because #1 is struggling right now with impulse control. Struggling. While this taught him a valuable lesson about controlling his impulses, it was the worst way to learn.

Again, my heart ached with his. And instead of being empathetic, I let all my sadness and stress about not being able to find his tooth get to me. I was barely hanging on to calm. His not listening to me in the first place, my struggle with the reality of his struggling with impulse control, my not being able to make his heart happy, well it all led me to say rather snapfully,

“You know #1, I told you this would happen. You didn’t listen.”

I didn’t yell, but my words were full of shame and I could tell that I only worsened his wound. I didn’t like the taste of my tone one bit; I didn’t like that I separated us at a moment when we both needed a hug. This was such a big milestone for both of us; we both wanted it to be all sweet and perfect and yet, I was anything but sweet. Given the situation, I could have, no should have, been a lot more loving. And I feel awful. I can’t take back what I said. I can just apologize, which I did, and forgive myself, which I am working on.

At the end of the day, I am not perfect and nor do I need to be. I just want more good moments than bad moments. And at the end of the day, I am grateful that I was there when he lost his tooth and that we shared a not good, but an incredible moment together. And I am grateful that I didn’t totally lose it and starting screaming (as I totally would have done pre-Orange Rhino Challenge) because in keeping my quasi-cool I was able to do some awesome mini-van surgery with my neighbor. Together, we figured out how to take apart the mini-van and shake that tooth lose.

Yes, we found that tooth.
Yes, my son and I cried together.
And yes, we were both barely hanging on today for different reasons, both individually and with each other, but ultimately we found each other and that, despite the momentary gory details, made it a great day.

Munchkin fell asleep dreaming of the tooth fairy. Can’t help but wonder if he would have fallen asleep as happy if I had completely yelled and screamed at him over his mistake?

May
16
2013

My Notes to Two Strangers

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Dear Dad & Daughter at the restaurant tonight,

I apologize for listening to your entire conversation tonight. Yes, I completely, utterly 110% eavesdropped to every word you shared for thirty minutes. I just couldn’t help it. I heard one line and I was hooked. Your conversation was beautiful. It was inspiring, touching, heartbreaking, scary and affirming. Thank you for being in the right place at the right time. I needed to hear your conversation tonight, so thank you.

All my best to you; may you both continue to talk to each other as you did tonight,
A Secret Admirer, a.k.a. The Orange Rhino

*

My doctor’s appointment wrapped up early tonight and I had thirty minutes before the babysitter had to leave. I haven’t had any me-time lately so I decided to seize the free chunk of time and the beautiful weather and go sit outside for a quick dinner.

I sat down and ordered a beer and nachos and soaked up the warm weather, the breeze, and the absolute peace and quiet. Of course it wasn’t really quiet. There was noise all around but none of it was that of my four children asking for another napkin, another crayon, another trip to the bathroom or another French fry so to me, it was perfectly quiet. It was so peaceful in fact that my supersonic hearing picked up on the conversation next to me.

A teenage girl, somewhere between eight and twelfth grade (it is so hard to tell these days, you know?) sat across from her father nervously playing with her napkin. By the information she shared it was clear that she didn’t live with her dad, that her parents were divorced and that this was her night with him. They talked easily yet with a bit of tension. But still, they talked. He asked poignant questions, she answered politely. I heard their voices but not their words until she said this,

“You know dad, at this conference thing kids were talking about how at parties you raid the medicine cabinets at your own home. You then bring all the drugs to the party and dump them into one big bowl. Everyone then takes a handful, or two, of the drugs, and then chugs two drinks. It is really, really stupid.”

I sat there, my beer in my hand; my mouth dropped open and tears filling my eyes. My heart pounded with fear, really? Really this is what kids do? How frightening! And really, really this daughter felt comfortable to talk about drugs and actions with her dad? How phenomenal. I sat there all confused except for one thought: “way to go dad!”

The conversation continued. She shared more about how she was making new friends, how she wasn’t so worried about being friends with the cool kids anymore, how she didn’t want to be in the wrong crowd, just a good crowd. He listened quietly and nodded appropriately and then replied to her brave sentiments of truth,

“I am really proud of you sweetheart. It is hard to make new friends. It is hard to turn away from bad situations. I am so proud of you.”

He must have said it at least three or four times. Again, tears filled my eyes and all I could think of was, “way to go dad!”

The conversation continued, this time focusing on her upcoming graduation. She mentioned that some girls were buying fancy dresses; that she didn’t really care about a puffy dress, that graduation wasn’t a big deal. Again, her dad listened sweetly and replied ever so lovingly,

“Graduation is a big deal. I am proud of you. Your mom can take you shopping for a dress if you want. Or even I can, after dinner. We could go to what’s that place, JC Penny’s or the place with the JC in it?”

“You mean J. Crew dad,” she laughed.

“Yeah, we could go there. I’m proud of you. It’d be an honor to get you a dress.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” she said, “I’ll just wear something from my closet.”

Their dinner arrived and silence commenced. I of course had to interrupt it; it was time for me to get going and while they had talked and connected, I had written both of them notes and wanted to hand deliver them.

You see, as I sat there listening to them, watching them both try so hard to connect, yet connect so easily, I just wanted them to know how awesome they were doing. I wanted the dad to know how fantastic it was that he had raised a daughter who felt comfortable talking about drugs and personal struggles with him. I wanted the daughter to know how fantastic it was that she had found the strength to turn down drugs, to turn away from a bad crowd, and to now be graduating. I wanted them both to know how much their honesty and lovingness reminded me of my promise not to yell; how I hoped to have such conversations in the future with my boys, how I knew remaining yell free was one key to achieve that.

(Okay, pardon the grammatical errors. I was nervous writing the notes!!!)

I looked down at the two notes I scribbled on dinner napkins. I pondered doing nothing. I pondered crumpling up the napkins and not saying a thing. I pondered minding my own business, wondering if I would rock the boat by saying anything. And then I thought how nice it feels to be paid a compliment. I decided that the risk was worth it. I reached into my wallet and put some money inside the note for the daughter. I wrote next to it:

“I have four boys. I will never buy a graduation dress for a daughter. I know your parents would love to do so for you; trust me, it is an honor for them. But let this be a little contribution towards it. You deserve a new dress to celebrate.”

I nervously pushed my chair back and walked to their table.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I apologize for listening to your conversation. But I was just really touched and so I wrote you each a note. I hope someday that my boys feel as comfortable talking to me as you all talked to each other tonight. Best of luck to you both.”

I quickly left the napkins and scurried off, praying they wouldn’t return the money or catch me crying.

Today had been a hard day, a throw-in-the-towel type of day, an I-can’t-do-this-parenting-thing type of day, an I-don’t-want-to-do-this-parenting-thing type of day, an I-just-want-to-freakin’-yell-and-be-mean type of day. There is a lot I didn’t want today. But, let me tell you, hearing this dad and daughter talk drugs and good crowds and bad crowds, well, I do want that type of thing in my future. Big time. I want my boys to feel safe talking to me about everything and I believe that having a “yelling less and loving more” home is a great way to get there. I have been having to worker harder with the not yelling bit lately; my stress has made it harder to stay calm and I have truly wanted to give up, or rather, give in to the desire to yell. But witnessing this beautiful conversation tonight, well, it reminded me of the what I can have if I continue to yell less and love more and for that, I am re-inspired (and grateful!)

If you liked this post, read “I Just Want The Truth” 

May
15
2013

Work In Progress: Yelling

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Dear Orange Rhinos,

Tonight I share with you a brave guest post by Melody, a fellow Orange Rhino. I have been saving it for the right time and tonight is that night! Sweet #4 (my seizure prone little one) is rocking a 104 fever along with bouts of coughing and wheezing. I so very much want to write about the anxiety I felt earlier at the doctors, then dinnertime, and then bedtime. I so very much want to write about how it (the ugly stress monster) tried so very hard to trigger me to yell. But alas, tonight has been spent in and out of his room checking on him so no writing. Let’s hope tomorrow night?!

I will share with you though that I won tonight; that I didn’t let my trigger get all trigger-happy! Take that anxiety and stress; this Orange Rhino knows how to talk herself out of yelling now. But it wasn’t always that way. Oh, no, it most certainly wasn’t. Melody recently sent me this link to one of her posts about her journey to yell less and love more. As I read it, I found myself thinking, yep, yup, oh yeah, I have been there, I have sooo been there. Tonight, I was practically there again. The intensity of all the crying and the chaos and the worry had me wanting to tear my hair out, maybe even tear my necklace off.

I think we have all been there. I took great comfort re-reading this post tonight, realizing I am not alone. So tonight, in lieu of writing, I share this piece from Melody that I bet many of us can all relate to in hopes that we all feel less alone on this journey.

All my best and thanks Melody,
The Orange Rhino

*

Wednesday WIP: Yelling
By Melody W.
March 13, 2013

I am prone to bouts of yelling. I’m just not perfect. I don’t recall there being any yelling in my home growing up. My parents had/have three kids so they did have to yell to get our attention at times. But I can’t recall excessive yelling. I have all good thoughts and feelings about my upbringing.

So where did it happen? When? Somewhere along the line after I moved out of the nest I started to yell. Violently. I just raged. I don’t know why it started if it wasn’t in my nature. Since I’ve left the nest I haven’t always been in the ideal of situations. Perhaps the anxiety of uncertainty pushed me to anger, which pushed me to rage. Anything would set me off.

In January, maybe it was the fifth? We went to look at a house. The house we are working so hard for. We are so close to closing it hurts. Anyhow. We were on our way there. We had had a pretty good morning. We were all excited to see the house. I was feeling anxious. What if we couldn’t afford it? What if it was a waste of time? What if the boys misbehave while we are there and we have to leave…or Felix has a blow out diaper? Just my typical “its all in my head” crap that brings me down. My amazing husband said something…and he looked at me. And I lost it. I grunted and scream and growled and hollered. I yanked the necklace that was around the rearview mirror down…no I ripped it off. The owl pendant that I love flying through the car.

I stomped my feet.

I almost cried.

It was nuts.

My boys were quiet. They were scared. Stephen was angry in response and I sent him into a foul mood. I apologized, I told Maddox I was sorry and it wasn’t okay. But you can’t undo words. Apologies are formalities and you cannot undo what has been done and what has been said and there are things you just can’t say or do to people you love. And I did. I do it all the damn time. This is just one example.

Well I’m proud to say that today is day one of my no yelling challenge.

*

Melody is still working on her Orange Rhino Challenge to yell less and love more. She was proud of herself for starting back in March; I am proud of her for still trying every single day, especially while pregnant which I know 3x over, makes not yelling not easy! Thanks Melody (http://melodymarie85.wordpress.com) for sharing so bravely and for helping me out tonight!

May
13
2013

My Son’s Apology

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461 days of loving more, 32 days of loving more year 2

I guess you could say I am kind of a superstitious person. I always avoided cracks when I was a kid, you know, so I didn’t break my mother’s back. And um, okay, I can’t think of any other superstitions that I followed growing up. But now that I am a mom, well, I can list a thousand superstitions. Here are my top four:

1) If the baby is sleeping through the night or even well – you don’t say anything, period. My mother-in-law still doesn’t get this. She calls and always asks, “and how are the kids sleeping?” I literally close my mouth and hum until she gets it and changes the subject. I just don’t want my night’s rest to be jinxed, ya know?

2) If your kids haven’t had the stomach bug or a runny nose for weeks – you don’t say anything, period. My husband didn’t get this until the great Stomach Bug Disaster of February 2012. We were at Friendly’s one night and he so bravely announced: “You know, we are so lucky we haven’t ever had the stomach bug hit our house.” I kid you not, less than ninety minutes later #2 started decorating the cream rug with macaroni and cheese. #1 followed and then #3. And yes, they each passed it back and forth to each other. For two weeks. Eh hem. Like I said, you just don’t talk about not having the stomach bug!

Shhh…don’t say a word!

3) If your kids are playing nicely and you are actually able to sit back and enjoy the moment – you don’t say anything, period. My mother still doesn’t get this. Okay, none of our family gets this. Simply stated, with four boys six and a half an under, if there is ever a moment like this it is beyond impossible, no, it is impossible to not jump for joy and do a boogey dance. And without fail, the boogey dance generally inspires one son to join in and then in the process he elbows his brother in the face and he starts yelling and then his brother follows suit and the last one starts crying because it is too loud. Like I said, you just don’t say anything if there is peace, you just enjoy it. Silently. To yourself. As long as the minute lasts (okay, or two minutes!)

4) If bedtime is going smoothly – you don’t say anything, period. I forgot this one tonight. Big time. Bedtime was going so smoothly for a Monday night that I couldn’t resist but think to myself “You are rocking it Orange Rhino.” Um, mistake! Tonight’s bedtime story totally made me think that superstitions’ are indeed real. (Yes, I know that they kind of aren’t real and that crazy bedtimes can just happen, but still….) Anywho, I can say one thing that I do know for certain to be real: not yelling can lead to great moments.

Putting four kids to bed by myself is always a challenge. Pre-Orange Rhino days, I used to come out of bedtime with sweaty palms and a heart wiped from racing, sometimes from loving but more often than not, from yelling. I used to rush, rush, rush bedtimes and it made it so miserable for all involved. I used to yell “Brush your teeth! Get dressed! Hurry up!” all too frequently and it truly made bedtime go longer. Tonight though, as I chased my naked 21 month old down the hall to coral him back towards the bath, and then reached out with my free arm to swoop up my 3 ½ year old trying to escape, I smiled and thought to myself ever so smugly, “You know, I feel flustered but I am staying calm. I am not yelling. I got this bedtime in the bag. You know tonight, I will post ‘How I Survive Bedtime’ because right now I am encapsulating that post.”

Carrying this thought in my mind and a wiggly child under each arm, I proudly went to the bath. #2 got in without being asked. Score. #3 got in without being asked. Double score. #4 got in without much fight. Triple score. Bedtime continued like this for the next 10 minutes. Teeth brushed, pajamas on, books read, no problem. Then I went to tuck #2 into his own bed.

As I tucked him in, he started getting all fresh telling me to “go away” and “get out of my room now” to “be quiet.” You know, now that he is 4 and 350 days or so apparently, fresh is the new way to talk. Ugh. I tucked him tightly, told him that was no way to talk to his mother or anyone, that it was rude and hurtful and that I would indeed leave. He did politely reply,

“I didn’t hear the words come out. I didn’t know it was rude. I couldn’t help it.”

He pulled the sheets over his head as I calmly walked out. As I started to shut the door I heard, “now I am all embarrassed.”

I calmly and lovingly replied,

“Well, now you know those words aren’t acceptable. Do not talk to me that way again please. I love you, good night.”

I walked out and went to tuck #3 and #4 in. I had JUST settled both to sleep when I heard #2 start shrieking at the top of his lungs, which is a definite no-no once lights are out. Lights out means quiet. Period. Clearly not tonight. Harumph.

“MOMMYYYYYY! MOMMYYYYYYY!!! COME HERE NOW! RIGHT NOW!”

#4 started crying, #3 started whimpering “It’s not fair that he is still awake!”

Meanwhile, I started thinking, “It’s not fair that bedtime ain’t over yet!”

I headed towards #2’s room, my feet hitting the floor a little, okay, a lot more heavy than I wanted them to. My hand grabbed the doorknob rather aggressively and my racing heart made it blatantly clear to me that a yell was desperate to come out. And then this little voice stopped me:

“Mommy?” the little voice squeaked, “Mommy, is that you?”

The softness soothed my heart and reminded me to quiet my growing yell. It reminded me that yelling had no place at this moment. That it wouldn’t accomplish anything. That it would just get the other boys all riled up.

I slowly opened the door, my heart still racing a little, but not nearly as much. Before I could even start in with my bedtime lecture about lights out, #2 said,

“Mommy, I’m sorry I yelled for you. I just really need to tell you something. I’m sorry I told you to get out. I didn’t know it was rude. I’m sorry.”

It was the most sincere, sweet, and loving apology, an apology that I most certainly would not have heard if I had barged in yelling. My son’s apology made me feel that I am indeed doing something right as a mom. My son’s apology made for the most perfect ending to tonight’s bedtime. My son’s apology made me realize again that great moments happen when I don’t yell. 

If you liked this post, here is a direct link to another bedtime story that had a great ending as a result of The Orange Rhino Challenge:  “Is Yelling Really Worth It?”
And here is the link to “How I ‘Survive’ Bedtime”

 

May
12
2013

Happy Days!

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460 days of loving more, 30 days year two!

Even though I don’t have a math degree and I am not a statistician, I can say with 100% certainty (or is it accuracy? whatever,) that the days I feel happy are the days that yelling less is easier. Like infinitely easier. The direct correlation is undisputable, and that my friends, is one reason why I write the deep, dark, ugly, sometimes over-the-top emotional posts. Because when I write those posts, like the “Am I Good Enough” and “It’s Not You It’s Me” I find myself working through some of the ugly feelings that keep me from being happy. Or said another way, those posts help me to let go of the ugly feelings just a little bit so that I can yell less and love more.

I know I have been writing a lot of “those posts” lately. Part of me wants to apologize for not being uplifting and positive. Part of me wants to explain why I write them (wait, I just did.) And part of me, no all of me, wants to say thank you for letting me write those posts. All of me wants to say thank you for letting me be real and honest. All of me wants to say thank you for not judging me but for offering support and often times, understanding. Those ugly posts are difficult to write, difficult to share, and difficult to publish because I fear how they will be received. But I need to write them; I need to process the yuck in my life to get to the yummy.

You all know that Friday night I finally (can I get an halleluiah?!) wrote a post after a long dry spell driven by fear and well, overwhelmedness of too many yucky feelings! How do I choose just one to write about? LOL. But I did it. And guess what? Acknowledging the yuckiness, talking (or writing as the case may be) did indeed help me to feel lighter and therefore happier. I am so grateful I finally wrote that post Friday night because the next morning we headed out as a family for a 36-hour change of scenery. I needed to leave some baggage at home in order to enjoy the excursion and survive the stress of being away because well, taking the kids away from their routine always starts off exhilarating and always ends up exhausting.

Naps – missed. Bedtimes – missed. Restaurant manners when operating sans sleep – oh totally missed. Enjoying the few good moments stuck in between lots of moments of stress? So not missed. But would I have missed out on some of those good moments if I hadn’t written that post? Would I have been even closer to yelling in the really tough moments (um, two kids screaming over a fork at a restaurant with all eye balls on me?) if I hadn’t written the post? I say yes. Again, talking about the yuck and trying to figure it out is hard but it takes some weight off which really helps me to be in a better place and better able to take in some really awesome moments with my boys. So again, thank you for letting me write those posts; thank you for giving me a place to share; thank you for helping me enjoy some moments this past weekend like…

…when #1 ran up to me screaming “Mommy, mommy, I finally have a loose tooth! See, see!” He has been desperate to have a loose tooth forever. Forever! He was so excited; I was so excited! We wiggled it back and forth together. His finger first, then he said, “mommy you try, but be gentle!” Then we talked about the tooth fairy and how much he thought he was getting. Um, he was wrong when he thought $500 was the going rate, way wrong, but it was so precious!

And

…when #3 cuddled under his hotel sheets, rolled over and looked at me and with all seriousness in the world said “mama, I might fart under the sheets while you are next to me ‘cuz I have a ‘lil tummy ache, is that okay?” Okay, so it was kind of gross, but I loved that he was asking permission and that his eyes showed that he was greatly concerned. I was also grateful he was asking me and not my husband because he would have informed him that that is called a dutch oven!

And

…when #2 ran to our newly planted lilac tree with me when we got home and discovered it had bloomed. I got the scissors and cut some branches off and before I could even tell him about when I was a little girl and I cut lilac branches in my backyard with my mommy and how I looked forward to it every year he said, “Oh mommy, will the lilacs bloom every year? Can we do this every year, like a tradition?” That made my day. Made me day. I love traditions and I love that I have passed on that love to my kiddos.

And

…when #4 said “Happy Day!” to me after all his brother’s screamed out Happy Mother’s Day to me this morning. This little munchkin has just started talking these last few weeks and that in itself is the greatest gift ever. With his seizures and an apparent speech delay, my mind has been a nervous wreck (those two combined generally mean larger problems yet to be diagnosed.) But now, he is starting to talk and it is beautiful. I am so glad I wasn’t grumpy and could enjoy hearing him say “Happy Day.”

Yes, “Happy Day.” Today, and yesterday, despite their challenges (which were plentiful!) I would call happy days. And happy days make it easier to also call them yell free days. I know writing about the yuck, helps me get have those days, so again, thank you.

I hope tomorrow you have a “Happy Day” and a yell less day too.

Note: I am fairly certain this post isn’t coherent and doesn’t say what I want it to say. But I wanted to just get it out there; to help myself get back in the practice of writing. In case it wasn’t clear, my points were (1) thank you and (2) yucky stuff happens and can keep me from being happy (or feeling good) and can be a real trigger for yelling. Finding a way to release some of those yucky emotions is important to me on my journey to yell less.

May
10
2013

Am I Good Enough?

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458 days of loving more, 29 days of year two!

Okay.
Here’s the thing.
There is no sugar coating ahead.
I don’t sugar coat, it just isn’t how I roll (except of course if we are talking about sugar cookies, that is an entirely different story.)

I want to write tonight.
I need to write.
I have wanted to write for the last 10 days actually.
I have needed to write for the last 10 days actually.
Based on the lack of a new post, I think you all know that despite my desire and desperate need to write, I haven’t.

This is the fifth document I have opened tonight.
This is the fifth time I have tried to write something.
Every time I start, I try to write something positive from the past ten days. I try to write something inspiring or on “topic.” And every time I come back to the same subject, one that I am so very afraid to share.

And there you go. It happened again. I write that I am afraid to write what is on my mind and I freeze and start to think “sh*t there you go again, writing about that boring downer of a topic that will turn everyone off.”

You know what, though, I need to write about what is on my mind because writing about it will set it free, it will set me free, it will allow me to start writing again which I so very much need. So here you go. No sugar coating. Just some honest to goodness raw emotions, hopefully with a positive spin at the end because that is why I like to write. Writing brings me clarity and oh my gosh do I need a little clarity right now in my life. Just a little. Anywho, I digress. I avoid. I need to just do it. Here goes.

The Orange Rhino is having a wicked hard time. There, I said it.

Last week’s knockdown knocked me down harder than I thought. It really rocked me to my core. I said that I let go and moved on – and I did, kind of. I did better letting go than I would have a year ago, but what I let go of was the singular punch, the action. I didn’t let go of the symbolism of the punch. The truth is, that punch made my one current struggle amplified one thousand times. Wait, one thousand times isn’t even enough. A google times.

My struggle right now, all a result of the major stressors going on, is that I just don’t feel good enough.

I don’t feel like a good enough wife; if I were, I wouldn’t be dealing with a marriage boulder, right?

I don’t feel like a good enough mom; if I were, my sons wouldn’t be struggling as much, right?

I don’t feel like a good enough me; if I were, I wouldn’t be as struggling as much, right?

And that is just top-line. I could easily delve into a zillion other examples of how inadequate I feel as in the worlds of me-hood, mommyhood, and marriagehood but they would all bring me back to the same point that right now, the big stressors in my life are making me feel not good enough across the board.

And let me tell you, it is a sucky feeling. A really sucky feeling. There hasn’t been a night in the last two weeks that I haven’t gone to bed crying because my mind wanders and starts poking at my big stressors and how I can make them better, and instead of getting a solution, just ends up back at the same conclusion: I am not good enough. And going to bed upset and crying? Well it has led to insomnia, big time. And that too, is a really sucky feeling because I am wiped and cranky all the time.

So there you have it. The Orange Rhino has been feeling really sucky. Do I feel sucky all the time? No. Do not fear! I still am having good moments, even great ones,

Like today when I got my almost two year old up from his nap and he just said “mommy, mommy, mommy” over and over again as he put his head on my shoulder and rubbed his fat little fingers on the collar of my shirt.

Like today when my three year old jumped out of his bed at six a.m. and screamed “mommy I slept commando, see?!”

Like today when my six year old said to me at our pizza date “Mommy this is best table because I have the best view. (Oh, of what I asked?) Of you of course.”

And like yesterday when my son brought home his mother’s day card and this is what it said:

 Do you know what that note did? What that thin, floppy, piece of pink paper did? It smacked me on the face so hard that I got knocked down again.

“WAKE UP ORANGE RHINO!” It said. “YOU ARE MORE THAN GOOD ENOUGH!!!”

Yes. I got punched in the gut yesterday, but in a really good, way. That beautiful card made me realize that my son doesn’t see all the things I think I am doing wrong – he just sees all that I am doing right, he just sees that I don’t yell, that we do nosies at nighttime, that we have fun together. He just sees that I am more than good enough. He just sees that I love him and what more could I want?

This past year of my Orange Rhino Challenge has been about learning to yell less and love more. When I write love more I always talk about loving my kids more. But tonight, as I sit here and write, and think about how my five year old “Gets it” and focuses on the positives, I can’t help but to be knocked down by a thought,

I think it is time I start loving myself more too.

Yes, it is most definitely the time to start loving myself more.
Yes, it is most definitely the time to start thinking like my 5 year old more often and see all the good that does exist.
Yes, it is most definitely time to let of go of this not “good enough” thought.

While partially warranted under the circumstances, this not loving myself enough, this not thinking I am good enough, it just has got to go.  It is physically exhausting, emotionally draining, and simply stated, a real pain the tuckus. And furthermore, it puts a real cramp on my “not yelling” style. I know I will not press save on this post and instantly be filled with a sense of “I am good enough.” I know I might not feel good enough in a week, or a month. But I also know that now I am aware of how very much I want to change, of how very much I want to love myself more, and I do believe that that will push me forward.

Here are my other thoughts on just being Good Enough “An Ode to the Moms I Will Never Be.” 

*

When I started writing tonight, I felt overwhelmed and scared and as a result, didn’t want to write, couldn’t write. Now that I have finally gotten something written, no matter how good it is or isn’t, I feel such a huge sense of relief that I did it, that I tore the band-aid off and finally wrote something. These feelings? They totally apply to the challenge. I felt the same way when I just jumped in and started the Challenge to yell less. Just sayin’…just sayin’ just do it and just sayin’…you can do it!

Is there more I want to say in this post? Yes. But I will save it for another time. This post needs to be good enough as is! Ha! 

May
10
2013

An Ode to the Moms I Will Never Be

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Hi Orange Rhinos! Here is a piece I wrote last Mother’s Day that is now up on Huffington Post. I would love to say that I have made a lot of progress on this subject and that this year I don’t need to give myself the same gift I gave myself last Mother’s Day, but alas, I will be giving myself the gift again and that is okay. I am a work in progress and that is just fine by me (okay, not fine by me on every day but I am trying!) Happy Mother’s Day!!! 

*

It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday, and while my four boys will praise me for being the mom that I am, sadly, I know that deep down inside, I will be thinking about the mom that I am not. You see, I often feel inadequate as a mom and think of her: the other mom, the mom I “planned to be,” the mom I think I “should be,” the mom I never will be.

I want to be a mom who wakes up and has time to shower and make herself look not just presentable, but pretty. But I will never be that mom. I will most likely never look pulled together, with blown-dry hair and accessorized outfits — because while I wish to look that way, I don’t have the time or energy. I will always have my hair in a braid, a hole in my jeans, a two-seasons-ago shirt and a belt that is… well, more than two seasons old. And that is OK. Because my kids think I am pretty just the way I am.

I want to be a mom who puts aside her to-do list to get down and play on the floor with her boys. But I will never be that mom. I will most likely never roughhouse with them or play freeze tag as much as they like because I much prefer, and take great joy in, watching them play and have fun with each other. And that is OK. Because I will still hug them, kiss them and tell them how proud and happy I am to see them playing together.

I want to be a mom who knows how to make crazy LEGO buildings, how to chase after dragons, how to play Star Wars. But I will never be that mom. I will most likely never build a LEGO creation the way my husband does. I will never spontaneously chase after dragons with a laser or think to build a fort. And that is OK. Because I will make ice cream cones out of Play-Doh with my boys and chase after falling leaves and snowflakes with them.

I want to be a mom who feels like she knows how to be a mom to boys — who doesn’t think that if she had girls, she would know how to be a better mother because she would know how to play tea and dolls and all things “girlie.” But I will never be that mom. I will most likely never be a mom who truly feels like she knows how to be a mom to boys. And, even if I had girls, I don’t think I would feel like I knew how to be a mom to them either, because knowing how to “be a mom” is not just about knowing what kind of activities my kids like to do, it is about knowing what makes my kids happy, what makes them sad, how I can help them, how I can protect them. Knowing how to be a mom is a daily learning process and I’ll never be fully caught up. And that is OK. Because I have already mastered the most important lesson: how to love my boys.

I want to be a mom who plans fun outings ahead of time, who plans play dates… who plans, period. But I will never be that mom. I will most likely never plan ahead, because it overwhelms me and because, well, I am just not good at managing my time. And that is OK. Because I love to stay home and just talk with my kids and I love to ask them questions about their day, to answer their questions, to hear their side conversations.

I want to be a mom who cooks well-balanced meals that my pediatrician would approve of. Scratch that. I want to be a mom who cooks anything besides macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets. But I will never be that mom. I will probably never consistently cook healthy meals like my mom and my nana used to. And that is OK. Because someday, I will learn how to cook beyond the basics and until then, I’ll keep teaching my boys how to bake the “yummiest cookies ever,” remembering the key ingredients are always love and patience.

I want to be a mom who does cute arts and crafts projects more often and remembers to send them to the grandparents. I will never be that mom. I will most likely never do lots of arts and crafts projects that would make Martha Stewart proud, because I am too scatter-brained to remember to buy the art materials in the first place. And that is OK. Because when my kids bring their art projects home, I praise them and hang them proudly up on the kitchen wall.

I want to be a mom who reads books more, practices ABC’s more, sings more, dances more and laughs more. I will never be that mom. I will most likely never be able to do all the extras because there aren’t enough hours in the day. And that is OK. Because I will do my best and I will enjoy the moments when I do read, dance and laugh. And as long as my kids feel loved — and have learned what love is and how to love — it’s OK with me if they learn their ABC’s late.

And oh, oh how I want to be a mom who doesn’t feel inadequate. Who doesn’t look at her friends (and strangers) and say: Wow, they are great moms, why aren’t I like them? But instead looks at them and says: Wow, they are great moms and so am I.

So am I.

I am a good mom.

I might never be the mom I dream of being, but right now, I can be the mom that I am, the mom that my boys know and love. I might not be a lot of things I wish to be, but I still am a lot of good things. I didn’t cook a perfectly-balanced dinner tonight, but I did manage to not yell at my kids today and I am going to keep trying not to. I didn’t take my kids to the park yesterday, but I did talk with them while on a spontaneous family walk this morning.

You see, I find it so easy — too easy — to look in the mirror and see all the reasons why I am not a good enough mom, why I am not living up to my ridiculous ideal of what a mother should be. This Mother’s Day, as a gift to myself, I am going to look in the mirror and tell myself that I am a good enough mom; that I might not be the mom that I envision, but that I am still a good enough mom. And I hope you do the same.

May
06
2013

The Mother I Am Becoming.

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Dear Orange Rhinos,
Tonight’s post is by Heather. She wrote this note to me a while back and I asked her if I could share it, not because of the complimentary message, but because of the truly inspirational message she shares. I hope you enjoy Heather’s “Orange Rhino Challenge” story as much as I did. Thank you Heather for writing and for so openly sharing with us all; I know your story will touch many hearts in the way it did mine.
All my best,
The Orange Rhino
*
I’m not a yeller.  I grew up with parents who never yelled, with grandparents and aunts and uncles who never did either.  In fact, my first exposure to a family that yelled as a form of communication was during my first trip to stay with my long-distance college boyfriend’s Italian family, who rely on raised voices to get their point across; I was so traumatized by the experience that I hid in my guest bedroom for hours.  (He’s now my husband, so I did get over it.  Eventually.)  My friends even joke that my “outside” voice is smaller than their “indoor” voices.

But there have been more moments in my parenting career than I’d like to admit that I’ve completely lost it on my kids, who are nine and five years old. Each and every instance has left them shaking and in tears; they’ve left me wracked with guilt and anger, trembling myself, and wondering, “What did I just do?”.  

I’ve been reading The Orange Rhino for the past year.  I haven’t commented on the posts, nor contributed to the Facebook discussions because “I’m not a yeller”.  But as last spring turned into summer and our family began preparing for my husband’s nine month deployment with the Army, my stress levels rose and my patience with anything began dwindling.  I was yelling more frequently at lesser infractions.  I told myself I’d sign up for and begin the challenge the day he left.
In the days, weeks, and initial months that followed his departure I was completely and totally overwhelmed.  I locked my keys in my car one day, then in the house the next.  The locksmith and I became good pals.  I forgot playdates I’d scheduled with our friends, forgot to go grocery shopping when we were out of bread and milk.  I was getting by, but barely, with my new responsibilities as the only actively parenting parent, knowing that in this town that’s more than halfway across the country from our families it was all on me to make it work.  I was aiming not for thriving, but for merely surviving.

Three months into the deployment I finally found my bearings.  We had a schedule, we knew what to expect each day, and I discovered that I was, indeed, stronger than I’d realized.  By the time I remembered to sign up for the challenge I wasn’t yelling so much anymore; I was still reading the Orange Rhino posts, and every time I almost did overreact at something my kids did, I stopped myself and thought better of it.

One day back in February both of my kids had a snow day from school, but as I work from home I had tasks to attend to; I left the kids mostly to their own devices.  At their current ages this is not something that is normally a problem; they don’t require constant monitoring, nor do they need me to entertain them.

At one point I left my desk for a quick break and realized the house was unusually quiet.  I went upstairs, only to discover my 5-year-old son “cooking” in my bathroom sink, which had just been thoroughly cleaned the day before by my twice-monthly housekeeper. He had brought up a bag of baby carrots, an apple, a bag of broccoli salad, a strainer, and a kids’ safety knife (thankfully not an actual paring knife!), along with a big jug of real maple syrup and had been making himself a snack.

He’d cut a wedge from the apple and hacked a bunch of carrots into odd shapes, tossing them into the strainer with the broccoli salad and pouring a generous amount of syrup over it all.  It wasn’t the biggest mess I’ve ever seen, but it was highly unexpected.

My first instinct was to yell but I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and collected myself. When I felt as though I had control of my emotions I very calmly helped him seal up the produce bags, had him put them away in the kitchen, then when he returned to the bathroom I handed him everything else to put away. He helped me wipe up the sink when he’d finished, and we went downstairs together so he could eat his snack.

To my own surprise I didn’t yell or lecture or even scold him.  I just quietly reminded him that next time he wants to “cook” he should ask me first and keep it in the kitchen where food prep belongs. As we walked back downstairs together he apologized to me, and I accepted it.

A year ago, under different circumstances, that would have been cause for a BIG yell-fest on my end, and a lot of crying as a result on his. Instead we both handled it calmly and appropriately.  Though I’ve read a library’s worth of parenting books and blogs and news articles, the credit for my change in behavior goes to The Orange Rhino and this blog.  Because she has written so honestly about her journey and transformation, I have evaluated my own; I’ve overcome my struggle with losing my temper with my kids on a regular basis.  Being a mom who yells and demoralizes them was never who I wanted to be but found myself becoming, and I am grateful for the solidarity of a wide community of parents who have also found themselves wandering down that path and hating it.

I’ve noticed that by intentionally sitting down and talking about my expectations and disappointments when my kids have done something wrong, rather than yelling at them for slipping up, I am much more calm on a regular basis. This has, in turn, led them to be more calm, too. Things around our house have been more than pleasant; they’ve been fun!

There have been occasions when I’ve put the kids to bed by 7pm so I could sit down and watch my favorite TV shows in peace, and because the hour has been earlier than their usual 8pm bedtime I’ve allowed them to play.  (Don’t judge – we don’t have a DVR and there are some shows that can only be watched live. Plus, by the end of the day I’m DONE, and so are they.)  More and more frequently I’ve heard my kids giggling and playing together upstairs, which is a huge change from the arguing that had been rampant just a few months earlier. Me not yelling has led my kids to behaving better in general, and all of that has made this deployment 100 times easier than it would be if we were all stressed out all the time.  It’s true when they say, “When Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy”, and in our case the opposite is accurate, too.  Even when I’m faking the happy, it sure beats fully showcasing the anger.

We’re in the home stretch now; with less than two months to go until my husband returns and with an actual return date circled on our calendar, the excitement is starting to build.  Part of our redeployment adventure also includes a Permanent Change of Station (PCS, or military move to another base) this summer, and I’m in the midst of getting my house ready to sell in preparation for that event.  Though a big move like this is something I’ll have done six times in the twelve years of his career and our marriage, it does not get emotionally easier with each move.  This one will be the hardest so far as we’ll have been here for three years, the longest we’ve ever been stationed anywhere (3 full years, as opposed to the 33 months we lived in Germany, 5 months on the east coast, 2.5 years in the Rocky Mountains, and 23 months in Okinawa – yes, we’ve lived overseas twice).  My kids have spent more of their lives here than anywhere else; we’re leaving the first house we’ve ever bought, friends that have become our family, and schools that have supported us during this challenging year of life.

So for me this summer will be a mixture of bliss and sadness, filled with the “hurry up and wait” mindset that comes with this life that we’ve chosen for ourselves.  I know I’ll rely heavily on the techniques I’ve been practicing these past months, and will continue reading the blog posts for inspiration about how to carry forth when I don’t think I can take any more.  I’ve always liked being a mother, and now I find myself liking the mother I’m becoming.

Apr
30
2013

I Got Knocked Down.

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19 days of yelling less Year 2, 448 days total

Dearest Orange Rhinos,

Oh how I wish I could write an upbeat post. I feel that the last ones have been downish and I don’t like to be all down. I think a mix of up and down is good, you know? But alas, this post is not an up but instead, another down. I am hoping it is the last one for a while because not only does it get boring for you all to hear my woes J but it also gets exhausting for me to feel the woes.

I just got some very disheartening news. Doesn’t matter what it was. It just sucked. Big time. Let me put it simply. With all the ugliness and stress going on in my life right now (read this post about marriage and then this post about parenting if you don’t know what I mean), I had one thing that was keeping me going. Well, I guess two. First, you all have kept me going. Truly. Watching this community grow and witnessing strangers helping strangers is honestly the most beautiful, soothing thing in the world. I will be having what feels like the worst day and I will log on and read your posts and I smile and my heart smiles. I only wish I could reply to everyone, that would make me even happier. But I can only do so much. I know you understand.

The other thing that kept me going, the other thing that has helped me smile and not let the ugliness of my life bring me down lately I like to call a “a dream come true.” There is something I have dreamed of for years, since I was in high school really, and it was happening. It was not definite but it was happening. I felt ecstatic. I had hope that good things do actually happen; that the saying that has been protecting me for years “It’s too good to be true” was actually wrong. So yeah, I had lots and lots of hope. Hope has kept me going these last four weeks and now it has been taken away from me. It doesn’t feel good to say the very least.

When I received the heartbreaking news I cried silently. I then said “Well, at least it is Tuesday and I have a babysitter to help me and I can go to my room and be angry and sad all by myself.” And that is exactly what I am doing right now. The anger has subsided. I do feel bad for the toilet though. I yelled really loud at it. So loud in fact I am surprised the porcelain didn’t crack. Maybe that is because my heart cracked instead? Sigh.

So I have moved on from anger and now I am just stuck with the sadness and the lost sense of hope. I will not lie and tell you that I don’t feel like I am at rock bottom. I am there. There are only so many hits a girl can take, you know? As I write that I say to myself exactly what I said to a friend a month ago when my heart broke: “Have no fear. I will be okay. I have been knocked down a lot in my life. I know how to get back up. I am a fighter. I will be okay.”

I am a fighter.

I will be okay.

I am a fighter.

I will be okay.

Yes, I have been knocked down a lot in life. That is the honest to gosh truth. I have had my fair share of blows, but haven’t we all?

Haven’t we all been heartbroken, disappointed, and angry at some point whether it is over a fight with a friend, the fight to lose weight, or the loss of a loved one? It doesn’t matter what knocked me down today; I am pretty sure you all know how I feel. Whether it be from the examples I just shared or from just being a parent or even from the obvious, learning not to yell. Oh how the process of learning to yell less can make you feel pretty knocked down at times, am I right?

When I started The Orange Rhino Challenge I went 7ish days without yelling and then I lost it. I knocked myself down. And it felt awful. But, I got back up because I didn’t want to stay down; I refused to stay down. As I sit here crying, wondering how I am going to get up this time, how I am going to stop all the tears and go make dinner, I can’t help but think of three quotes that I have shared with you all when you yelled and felt knocked down:

“If you have made mistakes, there is always another chance for you. You may have a       fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing we call “failure” is not the falling down, but the staying down”.
~Mary Pickford 

Um, yes. I have fallen down. In many ways, I feel I have failed. Even though I know I am not the direct reason of my heartache, I still feel I have failed. But I will not stay down. I will not let myself be a failure.

“What looks like a loss may be the very event which is subsequently responsible for helping to produce the major achievement of your life.”
~Srully D. Blotnick 

Um, yes. I feel that I have experienced a huge loss today. A loss of hope, a loss of self confidence, a loss of enthusiasm. But maybe indeed this loss will be a gain. It has to be. It just has to be.

“Life has many twists and turns and sometimes what looks like a very bad day can just be clearing the way for good things to come.”
- J Kim Wright

Um, heck yes. I can say for certain that today has been a very bad day. I tried to stay strong and hide my tears from my eldest who was with me when I got the news. “What’s wrong mommy?” “Oh, I am just very sad and hurt.” “What can I do to help? Can I give you lots of hugs and kisses until you don’t remember anymore why you are so sad.” “Thanks sweetie. That is such a kind offer. I’ll be okay. I promise.” Yeah, my six year old could tell the depth of my pain so I would say it was a bad day. But oh, oh that must mean that it is clearing the way for good things, right?

Yes. It has to be. It just has to be. I believe all the quotes above. And I believe the cliché that this is “a blessing in a disguise” because just today I said to my husband “something has to give, and I can’t figure out what.” And well although it stinks to not have been the one to decide what has to give, at least something did give.

Yes, I feel pretty cruddy right now but I can’t stay negative because it will not get me anywhere positive.  I have no other choice but to believe these quotes, to believe the hope they offer because right now, in this moment, I so very much need them to be true, I so very much want them to be true.

Thirty minutes ago I slammed the door to my room, screamed into the toilet, and then collapsed on the floor in tears. I have wanted to do that for a long time. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I truly didn’t think I would find anyway to pull myself up off the floor. Thirty minutes ago I was lost with no hope, no strength. And now, after writing, I have a little more hope, a little more strength. I no longer feel like I am at rock bottom thanks to those  quotes. I believe in them and I hope you do too. If you feel knocked down tonight or tomorrow because you yelled, please know that I know how you feel and my heart not only goes out to you, but it is right there next to you, getting up with you, believing with you that tomorrow will be a better day.

We can do this together, Orange Rhinos, this not staying knocked down thing. We can get up again.

Who is with me?
(P.S. Please do know that I will be okay. I feel better already after writing this. And this song is now in my head and it is making me smile!)

Apr
29
2013

And It (she?) Finally Broke.

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18 days of loving more in year 2, 447 days total!

February 6th ish I came into my house to a rancid smell. It literally smelled like an animal had died and was hiding underneath the family room. Awful doesn’t even begin to describe it. I immediately called my handyman who came right over. I had to leave the house to get one child to a speech therapy appointment but I knew he would resolve the matter.

Not ten minutes after I leave, I get a phone call. I didn’t even have to answer it to know it was bad as it wasn’t my handyman; it was his boss.

“Um, hi Mrs. Orange Rhino.”
“Let me interrupt you. How bad is the problem? It’s not a dead raccoon is it?”
“No, no it is not an animal. You have a leak, a really, really, really bad leak. You have black mold under your floors, under your bookshelf and in the entire crawl space, air ducts, insulation, studs, everything. It’s pretty bad. When can you get home?”

Um, not soon enough? About forty minutes later I walked into the house.  It was so bad that both the handyman and bossman had waited for me.

“Well, we think it could be a crack in the foundation or maybe the heater under the bookshelf.”

“Hmmm. So about two months ago I noticed that the heater was making a lot of noise. I figured I was just super irritable that day and laughed it off. A few days later I thought it smelled funny; that the family room smelled like a steam shower. Again, I laughed it off. I can’t help but think the heater is the problem.”

My gut knew it was the problem. I had been telling myself for two months to look into it. But I kept saying “it wasn’t important” and “I’ll get to it when I get to it” and “I’m too busy.” The truth? I never prioritized it.

The men grabbed tools and started ripping out the bookcase. Well all be. Guess what? The heater? Oh yes, it had been leaking for ages. AGES. There was water everywhere. In fact, it was so bad that the iron pipe had turned green. And it get this. It was STILL spraying water.

It is three months later and I am still fixing the problem and still dealing with insurance.

I learned that day, and have remembered every day since that ignoring a small problem can often grow into a large problem and explode in your face, literally.

I learned this same lesson when the marriage boulder crashed in my path. We had acknowledged the small rocks for a while but rationalized that we would get to them, some day. And then bam, well, you know how that story goes (read here)

I learned this same lesson when my oldest was three ish and I started to yell a little more and a little more. I kept saying “oh, it’s just the sleep deprivation, you’ll chill out soon.” And then ahhhhhh, well, my yelling had become a huge problem and here I am, The Orange Rhino, a mom who wants to parent with warmth and determination, without all the yelling.

It is hard to take care of the small problems. They are so, well, small. At the time they don’t seem like they need attention, like they don’t warrant it. And let’s be real. I barely have time to tackle big problems, let alone medium ones and shoot, never small ones. But oh, oh has that come to bite me in the arse one too many times. Sure, there are ones that you ignore and it works out, but more often than not, at least for me, if it is a problem, it doesn’t just disappear.

I re-learned this lesson again today. UGH. The day the plumber came to fix the big, black mold he noticed a piece on the boiler needed updating.

“Is it mandatory I asked? Can I wait a while, until I fix this other big headache of a problem?”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t suggest it. You never know when it will go.”

It’s been on my list to do since February 6th.

Guess what piece broke today? Guess who found a basement filled with rotten water and a soaking went basement rug. Yup, that’s right me. Guess who honest to gosh almost lost it in the ugliest way ever? Yup, me. Because the kids were being bad? No, because I was just done.

Because I have lots of small “to-do’s” that I am ignoring and as a result, my ability to stay chill is pretty much nonexistent and is turning into a big, almost explosive problem. Today, it all boiled up and exploded internally. Did I yell? No. But I feel grouchy beyond words. I feel more impatient that ever. I feel full of yucky rage inside. I kept it contained today, but barely and again, not so prettily. I apologized to everyone for mommy’s uber crankiness and promised to do better tomorrow. That was the least I can do, but hey, I think that counts for a lot.

Now I need to forgive myself. And that will be the hardest part. Because right now I am sitting here thinking “Darnit, Orange Rhino. You KNOW better. You know that if you don’t get sleep, exercise, and eat healthy that you eventually get to a breaking point and it ain’t pretty.” I saw today coming. I felt it yesterday when my eyelids were literally half closed from 1 o’clock onwards and I felt like a zombie. I felt it this morning when my hands started sweating and my heart started beating faster when the boys were a little louder than I could handle. I felt it at 1 o’clock today when I rushed through nap time books because I just wanted alone time.

Yes, I felt the breaking point coming and I didn’t try to stop it.

The last month I have been pushing myself too hard. I have written about taking care of me but again, I have failed to do so. It is evident in my smile, or lack there of. It is evident in my tone. It is evident in the increasing guilt of not being happy with how cranky I am. And for this, because I know that I want to be doing better, I feel crappy and disappointed in myself.

I am okay with pushing myself. With telling myself that “I can do it” and “just one more day of craziness, then I will rest.” But only until a point. Because eventually, it becomes too much. Just like the pipe that leaked and leaked until it wreaked havoc, I know that left uncared for, my little stress, my ignoring the little things I need to get the stress at bay, will grow and grow until it wreaks havoc. Unfortunately for my boys, the wreaked havoc is usually in their direction.

I write this post tonight to remind myself to take care of me.

I write this post tonight to remind myself to acknowledge my warning signs that it is time for a break.

I write this post tonight to remind myself to find grace, to forgive myself for the rough day, to acknowledge that I hey at least, I did take a break at 1 (even if I should have taken it yesterday) and that hey, I am only human. I am doing my best. And that matters a lot.

Let it go Orange Rhino, let go. And for goodness sake, go take a hot bath, ignore your work, and get to bed!!