Mama, I am here

 My words to my mom since she moved to Alabama in 2007, were always "One day soon I will come visit you." While she was in Alabama and prior to my husband completing all of his Army training, I did go to Alabama every so many months. 

The visits were exhausting. They left me feeling defeated, confused, sometimes even a little angry. Always I would go with the intent to stay a week and return within 2 days. The constant television, literally 24 hours a day. The lack of a routine, my mom and grandmother would sleep all day and stay up all night. I would go first with just my oldest, but then after I remarried, I would have my infant in tow as well. I wanted to help her and my grandmother and would often be met with indifference or discouragement. The visiting pastor was a braggart, hard to deal with and clearly taking advantage of two senior citizens who really need his assistance. 

Always I wanted a relationship with my mom. Always I wanted her to love me. Always I wanted her approval. 

I knew I was never her favorite. I knew that she feared me, which I don't understand fully why, unless this stems from my wildly varying emotions. I often wondered if she just didn't like me, but tolerated me.

My insecurities to this day stem from the chaos of her verbal tirade of judgement, ridicule, and sometimes her sense of humor and laughter. 

We had good times. Oh, how I loved her laugh. It was always so fun when her mischievous side would come out. When the day was good, it was oh so good. I learned to hide my candy, and to never share it from her. I have now taught my daughter to do the same. Is this a point of pride?

She was an amazing grandmother to my oldest son. She truly loved that little boy. He adored her as well. The relationship that they had was beautiful. If it had not been for her, I most likely could not have gotten through my pregnancy and his first few years of life. The raw truth is that I wanted to die. 

I tried so hard to deny that situation. I did not want to admit to myself that I was going to have a baby. I drank heavy, I smoked heavy, I lived my crazy life hoping beyond hope that it would all magically disappear, but it did not. I cried a lot. I lamented my predicament to anyone who would listen. I could not see a blessing. I even let one of my supposed friends, who was a professed Wiccan, to "perform a ritual to end it all." Well, the reality was, it was a way to take advantage of me. To perform an act that I otherwise would not have done with him. I was in a dark place. A place where many cannot pull themselves out of. I nearly did not. 

When I was sixteen, I had made the same mistake. I was dating a guy who really didn't care about me and I didn't care about him. He wanted to do the deed all of the time. I thought that was how you kept a boyfriend, was to give up the goods. It ended in a pregnancy and his mother told me I was a slut. I guess in a way I was. My savior from that summer was my mother. I had been staying with my Dad while she was out of town with a friend. I was sick. I was depressed. I could not do anything without being sick. My first two pregnancies were like this. Sickness like waves. Sickness every time I moved. Puking, puking, and more puking. But when my mother returned, I told her the truth. It hurt. She yelled at me she called me a slut and I ran from the house to her friend's house. Her friend talked to her and to me. A decision was made and between the two of them I was ushered off to Atlanta to have an abortion at just over 10 weeks. To this day, I don't know if she ever told my Dad, I haven't. That is my shame to bear. 

There were many times when she would use it as fuel against me. She would tell other mothers that they should not let their daughters hang around me because I was a bad influence. Maybe she was ashamed of me, or maybe I had proved her prediction correct. When I was 12 and wanting to go skating with my friends, she always drove home the point that I was a slut. She kept that in the forefront of our relationship until I moved out with my first future ex husband. 

I struggle daily with my inner demons. I struggle to hold it all together. I judge myself harshly. I imagine that my mother judged herself harshly as well. All those strange diets and diet pills that eventually cause her liver to have issues. I listened to her complain because my father called her fat. And honestly, he did call her fat. His obsession with weight is another thing that has followed me through my life.  From my father I would hear things like "you can't wear black nail polish, lipstick, whatever because people will talk about you" Don't leave your truck at the bar because someone I work will see it and think it is me there" 

All my life, I have felt suppressed. I have felt like I had to fit into a box, that I have never been able to fit into. I have a part of my heart that beats wild. A part of me that likes to bend the rules and be mischievous. I want to be fun. I want to be see as fun. 

And now I am here. After being in El Paso and my mom in Alabama, where I didn't go visit her because my oldest son was in Tennessee. I know I didn't try hard enough to make her a priority. Then I am in Tennessee and she is in Michigan. I made it to Michigan one time to see her. I decided to not go the second time I was planning a trip. I felt pressure from my husband not to travel too much. I felt like my medical necessary trip for my middle son was the only trip I could make that summer. 

It took so much to call her. I had to think for days, build up my mind, that it was time to call. It took a lot to get to the point to just call her, let alone visit her. 

Yet all my life I wanted her to love me. 

Now I am in Michigan. I will live in Michigan for three years. I am not so far from where she last lived. When my husband and I drove through her tiny little town and the entire time I felt like the breath had left my body. I felt the urge to puke and to cry and to lash out at the world for a pain that won't leave me be. 

Now I walk next to the darkness that I imagine also tried to trap my mom. The darkness that tries to trap me. With suicide like a back up plan. And the irony is only one person in my entire life ever caught on to the fact that I live with suicide like a devil on my shoulder. My Junior English teacher read a poem I wrote on the back of a test about standing on the edge of a mountain  trying to decide if I should leap or not. She read that for what it was, a cry for  help. No one since that moment has ever answered my cries for help. 

When my oldest was three I was going through severe depression. I stayed inside of my truck with him. I drove around and around and around our town for hours on end. I did this because I was so deeply sad. I had put myself in a relationship with a narcist who only wanted to bring me down because I appeared too proud. And bring me down he did. It nearly destroyed me. I nearly lost everything because the pit opened and I fell into and I had no desire to crawl out. I begged my Dad to help me, and he told me I was fine. I tried to talk to my mom and she said "you only think of yourself" 

The next time I was that low, I was carrying another baby. My Dad took every opportunity to tell me how embarrassing it was that I was not married and here I am pregnant. He tried to send me away he tried to convince me to give baby away. I nearly did. And then I named baby a non family name and shit once again hit the fan. He called my son "grandson" until he was at least 5 or older. 

When my husband was on his first overseas tour, I begged and begged my Dad to drive me into Nashville to the mental hospital. I was exhausted. I was depressed. I had just lost a friend that had turned out to be a snake. I was overwhelmed with the health issues between my youngest two kids and having recently losing custody of my oldest son. I wanted to walk into that building and feel the cool air conditioning against my hot summer skin. I wanted to hear the deep silence. I wanted a place to sleep and to hide. But my Dad told me not to go. I guess he was right. It would have put my husband in a bad spot with the Army. Reality is, that someday, I should probably go to a place like that for the peace that I crave. 

And then I lost my mom. My mom is gone. The mom I wanted to please, to visit, to love, to have a relationship with. She is gone. Three years later I still feel the loss deeply. I feel like I didn't try hard enough. Three years later I am at a weird place in my life. I feel lost, but hopeful. I feel dejected. I feel like I am over whelmed. I know I am blessed to be where I am. I know I am blessed to have all that I have. But the sadness and the darkness surround me and threaten me and try to usher me out. 

I always wanted my mom to love me. And know my words "one day I will see her soon" are like a lifeline to madness. 

Confessions of a Not so Ordinary Mom: Here I am

 Let's start here, we survived the holidays, we survived a move, we survived all the variables that could have made it all go sideways. 

Homeschooling came to a stop the week of Thanksgiving. We were ready and eager to head to Tennessee to see our families before we moved North. This almost did not happen due to exposure to Covid the week before that week. We were tested and we quarantined until we were sure that we did not have it and our results came back. Our trip was shortened in order to keep all parties safe. It was a quick trip and I did not get to visit all my favorite hometown places. We had fun. The kids loved having and early Christmas, we loved good conversation, laughs and food. 

Home. 

That is when the crazy began to creep in on us. We were in an in between place. Pretty much everything that could be packed, was packed. I learned that my husband and I had entirely too much clothing and shoes. My inward panic of what I might have to leave behind ensued. It turned out to be justified panic. 

When go time arrived we woke up early, headed out to pick up our moving truck, a small snafu with the payment, but quickly worked itself out. Back to post to weigh the truck and get it loaded. My husband had this vision of not needing much help, because he was sure we did not have much. 

Let me tell you, his vision did not pan out. Thankfully we cooked taco meat in the crockpot while we loaded. I attempted to clean while loading happened, but in reality I spent much of the afternoon hauling stuff outside and putting in in piles. Our neighbors came over to help up load and even clean. They brought friends and then another neighbor joined us. 

It was a long day. It was still a fun day. I did not feel sad, more eager and panicked that we were not making the progress we had hoped to make. The reality is that I ended up parting with my favorite giant cube shelf, one book shelf broke, another was not stable enough to make the move. The play house my FIL had built for the kids also had to be left behind. My husband looked on and I know he felt the loss too as we had both assured each other that house and that shelf would make it on the truck. 

I cleaned late into the night, but it was not done. We still had stuff to load. We crammed as much as we could into the car we were towing. The next morning we woke up cooked a quick breakfast, pulled the last of the stuff outside into the yard. We had to sign out at 11. 

When 11 rolled around all my house plants, the dog kennel, and other items were still in the yard. I was finishing up mopping. The lady came in and commented that we looked rushed and on top of that the original damage report that we submitted at move in was no where in our file. I told my neighbor who was watching from her porch, that if it came down to it, I would pull everything out of the car to find our copy. It did not come to that thankfully. She tried her attitude. She even said cabinets that had been wiped down only hours earlier were dirty. I tried to reign in my crazy, and we got them wiped. She gave us a clear report and we were free of that house. 

We stood outside and finished cramming stuff into the truck, van, and car. That afternoon we grabbed fast food and went to a park. Later at the hotel, we got the kids a pizza. I headed back to our neighborhood to pick up dogfood for our dogs because ours was packed who knew where. Another neighbor had also baked cookies for us to take on the road. 

The drive up the following day was not so bad outside of the rain. It seemed as if every time we hit a big city it would rain harder. Michigan was cold. We arrived at our storage shed, grabbed fast food and started unloading in the cold. We did this until nearly 8pm. Our poor kids were so tired, so cold. Our pups were frantic not wanting to stay in the van, but not wanting to be outside. It was sleeting and we were so tired. We had to go back the next day, and on Monday we had to rent a second smaller unit to put the rest of our stuff.

Military moving companies would be proud of us as we broke two lamps, and a lot of dishes. 

We lived in a hotel for 9 long days. It was nice. We tried to cook on the hot plate, our griddle and crockpot, but really we ate out a lot. We argued with each other. The kids were cranky, the dogs were nervous. 

On the Wednesday after our arrival we signed the paperwork for our house, but it would not fully be ours until the following Monday. 

We managed to find Santa and Mrs. Klaus in Kalamazoo and it was a no touch event. That made me feel more like normal was coming back into the picture. 

Moving day we got another truck and headed back to the storage shed. We spent that entire day loading everything we could onto that truck and by 3:50pm we were heading to our home. It was nearly 9 when we finally stopped unloading that truck. There was no internet, but we had pizza. 

That Tuesday we took the truck back, picked up breakfast. After eating I became sick and spent part of my first full day in our house vomiting and sleeping. That pizza did me in. I did manage to pull myself together and start unpacking. 

We decided to work hard, but take Christmas off. It was a welcome break. Visiting my Aunt was the highlight of that day. 

By the following Sunday we were pretty much unpacked. 

We had argued, I had convinced myself that our marriage couldn't possible survive. 

To top it all off, one of our main arguments was about how often I dust, vacuum, mop, and clean in general. A lot of our furniture was dusty as neighbors helped us carry it out. That was embarrassing to him especially when one of them commented on my dusting skills. Wife fail, I guess. 

So here we are. Holidays over, and everyone back at it. 

School started right after the new year, we are on week two. Hubby is at his new job, week two of training. He will be working late. I have already realized that this will work in my favor. I have decided to carve about 2 hours a night for just myself. 

The kids and I are cleaning every single day. Dusting will be done once a week. Toilets and sinks daily, and showers 3 days a week. I set up a schedule for the kids and I. 

Did I mention that week one was exhausting? 

We love our house though. It is perfect for us, though it is drastically lacking in closet space and walls to hang pictures. Our basement has a nice collection of things we will not use here, and extra things from the kitchen. 

We are settling in quite well, though I feel as if I will never make friends. I miss my friends in Kentucky. I miss having neighbors to wave at or holler a hello to when you go outside. I do not hear helicopters, or the training artilleries fire from the Military installation. There are no dogs barking, no cars loudly driving down the road at all hours of the night and early mornings.  

At some point, we will go out and find a church, go more places than my Aunts, or Kalamazoo, or the grocery store. 

Here is to new beginnings. 

Confessions From an OCD Military Spouse: Anticipation

 On this rainy day in October, I sit at my table with my brain flooded with checklists. 

Checklist one: Get kids started on school today this one is full of all the things I hope we get covered. It also includes a vivid mental image of me getting soaked while picking up the lunches provided by the school.

Checklist Two: Use this few minutes of quiet to answer and send all emails. 

Checklist Three: Virtual meeting to go over platform for online class I will be teaching in a WEEK!

Checklist Four: I really should prepare for said class.

Checklist Five: This is really full and has more of an outline format. Pack up more stuff. What can I pack that we won't miss for nearly two months? Should I turn in 30 day notice on the fence? Do I have enough boxes? When do I start on the kids room? Should I pack more of our clothes? 

I already have a significant portion of our house packed. I began packing way back in September. I waited until my husband started the class that would line us up for this move. I have tried to pack in such a way that it does not affect our functionality as a family. I mean who needs pictures on the wall? 

Now I bet by now you are wondering why I am even packing? Doesn't the Military move us? Of course it does. They also like to damage our belongings and lose things like sleds. But really when the sleds didn't arrive with us here in Kentucky, it was like, okay not such a bad thing. But now, two years later, I am still stewing over those sleds. We are now moving to a snowy state and boy would those sleds come in handy. 

This move we are doing ourselves. This will be us, well me, packing everything. This will be us loading the truck, unloading the truck. This will be a huge move, for only a mere six hours away. 

I want to be prepared. 

I want to have time to go to Tennessee and  visit my family.

Mentally I mapped this all out months ago. Pack early, take the week of Thanksgiving off from school and go home. Do a combined Christmas/Thanksgiving. Give hugs, feel sad, say see ya later and come home. 

Let the crazy begin immediately after. 

Pick up truck that has yet to be scheduled, pack said truck, clear housing and move away. 

Good bye Kentucky, we are off to snowy adventures, not in New Jersey like we were led to believe for weeks. Well, in reality only about two weeks. Hey it is Army life, and everything changes at a moments notice. 

I am stressed to the max

I am trying to remain calm all while facing the many scenarios that an upcoming Military move can throw at you. 

And this time we much find a house. It looks like we won't be renting, but instead buying. So guess what? 

If you guessed that this means another checklist, then you are correct. 

It comes in right under "How to plan a birthday party during Covid" And guess what? That is not going so well. We have settled on having close friends drive by at an appointed time hand them a bag of candy, and calling it a day. We are planning to go a little bigger on gifts to make up for the lack of celebration. I will make cupcakes with the birthday girl and we will celebrate at home as a family. That is what matters the most. 

The rest of the crazy can remain outside, or on a minimized window inside of my brain. 

At the end of the day, we will conquer this upcoming move. We will go over any obstacles that present themselves. I will pray hard that it does not snow as we make our way due North. 

Confessions of a Not so Ordinary Mom: The first 38 Days

 We survived! Or should I say that I survived?

38 LONG days of teaching, learning, overcoming, becoming. The list goes on. 

I have learned, no I am still learning, how to make this all work. How to help each child reach their full potential. 

There have been days of not much getting done, to days of getting it all done. 

Math, now that is a difficult one. I am not a great mathematician. In fact, for me the struggle is real. Were it not for the answer guides, I might not be able to do it at all. Here is the girl who barely passed ninth grade due to failing math, teaching math to her kids. WOW! Thankfully we have my husband who humbly declines the "Math whiz" title. He tutors each of us and helps me out, so that I too can become more proficient. For these kids, I have learned that my daughter is better at math than I thought she was. On the days her little brain is ready to go, she can zip right through one or two lessons. For my son, the struggle is real. I often look across the table at him and wonder how the teachers ever thought he was great at Math. Yes, some areas he is great and so many more he needs guidance and patience and several days to master what is on the page before him.

I am enjoying Language Arts. I love the curriculum we chose for the kids. The ease of use, the amount of handwriting practice, and the art to study within the lessons. Adding in Geography at just the right amount. I see how my kids take to it. Gasping at writing sentences, at getting red ink reminders for punctuation and capitalization. I have yet to write a serious grade in my planner, as I am still figuring out how to grade on Language Arts. They cringe each time I ask them to write names and date at the top of a page. "Neatly" I repeat all day long. "Make it legible" is my other mantra. 

Marine Biology has been a fun breeze for us. Little reading, some gluing together worksheets and a lot of informational videos. YouTube is an amazing resource. Our Marine Biology studies are drawing to a close, and I am working on a small test. 

History Year One has lost me. The study of Egypt was dry and it did not hit on the highlights. The Romans were mentioned in passing. Instead it focused a lot on the Bible. I do think this is good, but for history it was not exactly what I had in mind. We shall muddle through and hope for the best. Next up, a small paper on what they have learned. I hope they can remember it. 

I have both kids working on Spelling. My son right at grade level and my daughter below grade level. Spelling is teaching my son how to see the words and look them up for the meaning. After this, he should be able to place it in the correct usage sentence. I think this is one area he wishes he could skip. I am proud of him for working hard at each weeks lessons and even doing okay on the spelling tests. For my daughter, these small four letter words are perfect for her. They encourage confidence while reinforcing the basics. She has blossomed as a reader since we began distance learning in March. I get to take credit for this progress. I have sat by her and pushed her and slowly she is becoming a little reader. Now to get her to read books for fun. 

Spanish has not been happening like I was hoping it would. I am not fluent and I feel lost on how to teach it. I have done well teaching Hispanic Heritage Month. We have learned about many Hispanic Leaders in the U.S. that have helped shaped the country. So many interesting people that I knew nothing about. I know that right now they are young, and that most of this will just be something they heard, but it is my hope it will stick. We even covered 9/11. I am adding in extra things about notable people or events and this is to build a foundation of knowledge. 

We have had tears. I have yelled. I have felt defeated. I have felt on top of the world. My son has spent long days and even weekends attempting to master something from Math. The tears fall, the frustration flows, and we embrace all the emotions and work through it. By having them here and teaching them here, I am able to see the weak points and help them improve. I am able to see the strong points and help them to excel. 

I struggle with fun. I don't know why I struggle with fun, but I do. I am attempting to improve on this. I have had to adjust our entire schedule multiple times to find what fits. I found what fit for us and then was told that my kids could continue Speech Therapy at their schools due to the IEPs they have. 

I took the opportunity and it threw a huge monkey wrench into our schedule. This was week one, and I pray that week two, which will have four days of bouncing between the schools, goes much smoother. 

In the beginning we had many breaks a day. But these had to go. I could not bring them back on task once they got up and ran around. Now we push through math, break for a tiny snack, come back for LA, Spelling, and Handwriting, and lunch. These kids eat all day long. Sometimes it feels like I am living with two hungry caterpillars. 

Lunch is where I start the break with a YouTube video that is either a notable person or event and they watch this while I get lunch ready. Then I have scaled lunch back from an hour to about 45 minutes. The goal is to be done before 1:30 every day. This is pushing each child and myself right up to our limits. But the end goal for them is screen time. Hours of screen time. My goal is to use this time for a virtual volunteering opportunity that I have. I also enjoy mindlessly scrolling through social media or much more recently looking at all the houses for rent that don't allow pets and are expensive. 

Throughout all of this crazy, I have had kidney stone pain, hospitalized, pain from a stent. My husband has had work issues, and now is in school. I am packing up our house for a potential move. I am doing laundry nearly every day. My short order cook skills are getting up to phenomenal. The needs of my family pushing me to rise every day. Pushing me to give it my best. Unfortunately, I am losing control of my eating habits. My stress eating is through the roof and I am even craving coffee. Though the truth of it is, I would love a cigarette. That is horrible, I know, but this stress can be through the roof some days. I look in the mirror and I see my body shape as okay, then I see my protruding belly that looks as if I am six months pregnant bulging out. I secretly eat anything sweet I can smuggle into this house. You see a problem? I do too. I cannot find the motivation to workout though we have an exercise bike, a treadmill, a great area to walk the dogs or ride a bike. I am failing at this. I am letting myself go.  

In the background is the election noise. The social unrest. The desire to change the world through educating my kids and becoming a better person. I have my absentee ballot and I plan to send it in soon. That is one great way to be a part of the push for change. 

My favorite tv shows are a thing of the past. I long for the days of quiet time to use toward just watching a show. I could still do this, but with kids at home it is continuous pausing in order to address their needs, issues, and diffuse the situations between them. With a tiny girl screeching at her brother who I am sure is antagonizing her when I am not looking, it is hard to get peace some days. 

But this has been a great 38 days. I am counting down the days until our November break. I am aware that November break brings about see you laters and change and a new house and a big adventure. I am am ready to face the next 38 days. 

October 1, 2020

Confessions of a Not so Ordinary Mom: Kidney Stones

 Our homeschool journey has been going much better than I anticipated. My youngest, whom I expected to be the hardest to teach is actually thriving. My middle child is struggling. His ability to work diligently or with a minimum amount of daydreaming is dragging him down.

The last month has been a true blessing. It has been fun learning along side of the kids. It is amazing to watch their self confidence build. My daughter is now reading at a much better pace than when we started distance learning in March. Her math skills are blossoming. My son is doing well learning his state capitals and even his handwriting is improving. 

Both kids are getting much better at their daily chores. We are finding a harmony and making things work in a way that even I did not expect. We have had some tears and we have overcome them. There are days that we don't accomplish much of what I was hoping to accomplish. Days where youtube is our teacher. And so many days where I wonder if I am doing enough. My husband always assures me that I am doing a great job. 

And then out of the blue I began to have pain in my lower back. I knew what was coming, though I tried to deny it and push through. Ultimately I ended up in the hospital over a weekend. Thankfully, my husband was able to get a week to work at home. That was a glorious week of tandem teaching. Even he admitted that teaching the kids could be exhausting as well as rewarding. The Monday of that week, my husband was solo. I sent him all the passwords and gave him a rundown of what should occur. He tackled it like a boss!

The next two weeks, I had to manage my pain levels and fatigue all while teaching and running the household. That is when we began cutting our days super short. I needed a nap in order to have the strength to tackle dinner. Once I got the stint exchanged for a new one and kidney stone removed, I was back at it. 

I know that homeschool is to reflect flexibility. I know that it is okay to day a day off. I did give the kids and myself one day off, the day of my surgery. 

By the following day I dragged myself out of bed and forced myself to work through the uncomfortable. I made a many trips to pee and it was distracting for both the kids and and I, but we pushed through. By lunch it was obvious that I would not be able to continue. We watched a Sea Turtle Video and several videos on Cesar Chavez. Then we called it a day. 

Today I felt better and I started the kids earlier than normal so we could push through. We managed to get everything done that I wanted done in a timely manner. 

It is hard being a homeschool parent and having medical issues. You have have to work through the pain or discomfort and get things done. You have to know when to stop and when to give yourself a break. 

Here is to overcoming the odds!

September 17 2020

Confessions from a Not So Ordinary Mom: Homeschool

 We will start with this: Yes, I did say I would NEVER homeschool any of my children. But then again it is 2020, and here we are. I am Homeschooling my youngest two children. 

I began to consider this option when distance learning was going strong, wearing me down, bringing me low. The kids and I were exhausted with the routine, exhausted with each other. I noticed that my middle son was struggling with nearly everything. Why can't my then second grader read at a Kindergarten Level? It began to pile up. 

The pros and cons list came out. Pros, I could get my son caught up, because in the beginning it was only going to be him. Then I was considering that upcoming move that still is not in the books for us. So that got me thinking more about my daughter. Then May happened. Glorious May with the seemingly great PTO meeting that ended in disaster. Well, really emotional disaster. Anyway, I decided for my mental health I needed to homeschool my children. 

How on earth does homeschooling help with mental health? Well, I needed a break from the people around me. Not so much in my neighborhood, and not all of those I met during various activities I participated in . I needed a break from putting on a face and struggling to fit into a box. See, I am really a rebel at heart, and as I near my mid-forties I am realizing that I don't fit inside of a box. That I am like air filling up a balloon and at any moment I could burst. 

I need to find the new me, as I am sure that this is yet another metamorphosis. When this is all over I will be a new version of me. I need to come to terms with this bubbling rage that is right below the surface. I need to come to terms with the fact that I am not the conservative that I thought I was. I need to find myself in the midst of it all. 

But this decision felt right. I started the research. I reached out to friends who were homeschooling pros. I reached out to those I thought might have insight even though I didn't think it would be beneficial to me. I read reviews of curriculum after curriculum. I weighed out what was important to me. I then opened that bank account and let that money pay for the education that I know my children deserve. I found resources, I found support. I found a whole new community. 

All of this is directly in response to our current world situation. I did not want to send my kids to school knowing that mask wearing was a struggle to them. I also did not want to send them and then have them come back home to distance learn. To be brutally honest, distance learning was a horrible nightmare. The routine didn't work, the Google meets were horrendous for the most part. I knew that we would not survive another round of distance learning. I also knew that the transition from school to distance learning would be hard on my son. We needed stability. We needed our home. 

We have slowly begun to venture out. We have visited Tennessee. We avoid Walmart. I finally went inside of an Aldis for the first time since March. But really, I have begun to lay the foundation of teamwork and family unity. I am teaching the kids that for this to work we need to be a team. And so far it is working. 

They have picked up more chores. Now this isn't anything too big. Just daily vacuuming and mopping, changing bathroom trash bags and keeping your room clean. Rewards are extra screen time that even Mommy needs you to have. 

I have avoided sending my son to school with a mask, hearing aides, and glasses. I have avoided sending my overly social daughter to a school with kids that might not talk to her because their mommy doesn't like me. Trust me, it is better this way. 

So homeschooling started a week ago. I made us a schedule that we stuck to like glue for two days. By day three I was tweaking it. And now here we are, what schedule? I see that they both need extra LA and Math, so we work on the two for nearly 2 hours each morning. I give breaks, we play the math games. We try to do typing each day, and certainly Spanish. Marine Biology has become shark week. I am still processing how to teach the History we have. It is Biblical based, but not so much as to be overwhelming. It is heavy on the reading, and it is most certainly white washed. My compromise on that is to teach for Hispanic Heritage month and Black History Month. I will find other things to add in. 

I am satisfied with our decision. I like the fun supplies we purchased. They are working with me. They are finding a groove. Together we are doing this. 

Unraveling

Hard year, from March to June.
 Normalcy gone.
Relax, but not true relax.

Friendship, slowly, mixed with children's laughter.
Late nights, bonfires, talking, talking, talking.

What happened?
Where did I go and how did I end up here?

In this place of deep regret tinged with deep embarrassment and a loss of a brief moment in time.

I am an adult.

I am

What? What am I?

Saved? Should be

Swear like a sailor, like I am uneducated, covered.

The f bomb always ready to drop

Cultured? Wasn't I?

Sweet, I was.

Anger welling up inside of me, like a red hot wave of lava

I must live with my decisions.

I must live with what I did.

Remorse? yes, a tiny bit so, possibly not so much as I should have though

Darkness? yes, the light inside of me is getting harder to see

Where can I find myself? Church? Haven't been in months
Bible's by my bed, read them, probably not.

I am truly lost and I

I don't know what to do or where to go from here.

Continue to grow is all that I can do