Break Down

I think I might be having a nervous breakdown, or at the very least, an identity crisis. Or maybe it's a panic attack? I find myself stuck this morning, in one of those "grass is always greener" and "if only" situations. As I rode the elevator up to my office today I was thinking of a million places I'd rather be. I'd rather be home, I'd rather be running errands, I'd rather be at the movies, I'd rather be with my goats. I know that everyone goes through this but it's just so crappy when it's you going through it. Much easier to empathize and help someone else when you're in a good spot yourself. Much harder to claw your way out of the pit on your own. Damn dirt keeps getting in my eyes...

So now I'm trying to make the following determination: Serious or not serious? There comes a point in everyone's lives where decisions must be made. The information that you base those decisions on is what is critical. Is my job/spouse/outfit REALLY that bad or is this more of an internal "my life sucks" kind of struggle? Is this a true jumping off point where I could change my life completely and live happily ever after or do I just need more coffee?

I do have some bigger plans out there. I do have some things that I'd like to try and change. Here's the problem: I tend to embrace the "I'll be a completely new woman by next week" theory. It's a bad theory, mostly because it doesn't work that way. But the small changes just seem so small. I'm not totally unaware that my all or nothing thinking is part of the problem, I'm just a little lost on how to reframe that notion.

Let's talk about my weight, for instance. Ugh. I'm so tired of struggling with it, worrying about it, momentarily conquering it, and losing to it again. It runs my life in a lot of ways and I'm so fed up with it. I'm constantly studying thin people to try to understand what they do that makes them look the way they look. The problem is that it's not necessarily what they do so much as what they believe about themselves. And there's the rub.

If I don't know where I'm headed or what I want to do or be, then what should I believe? I think it's time to sit down and work on setting some goals. Now before I get negative about the whole thing and beat myself up for not doing this sooner I need to say, in my defense, that this is all about timing.

Prior to this, my life has been all about the kids. Are they hungry? Are they thirsty? Are they clean? Are they happy? Perhaps I'm approaching the time in my life where that focus can shift ever so slightly to allow me to care more for myself. They can pretty much manage foraging through the kitchen for food and water so no one is going to starve or get dehydrated by me stepping back just a little. And maybe, just maybe, if I focus on myself I'll feel more content with where I am. Fingers crossed.

Goin' to the Derby

Let me begin by saying that I'm a civilized woman. I read voraciously, I go to the theater and I consider myself to be fairly well educated. That being said, I LOVE the Demolition Derby. It's truly one of my guiltiest pleasures. I love everything about it - the cars, the drivers, the paint jobs. There was a green car in last nights' match which had "The Pickle" painted on one side. Another car had the phrase "Time Out - I'm Texting" spray painted across the back.

I liken the Derby to an ancient gladiator fight. At last night's match, in front of my children, I actually screamed "Finish Him!" I was shocked at my own behavior.

Still, I can't deny that it brings out something primordial in me. As soon as the car engines fire up and the siren goes off I start cheering. It's all so loud and muddy and crazy - three things that, under normal circumstances, I detest. There is something very freeing about letting it all go and cheering with abandon when a car sprays the crowd with mud. I have discussions with total strangers in the stands about the cars and the competition. "Oh boy, he's really stuck now!" "Look, his radiator just blew - it's all over for him" "Wow! That was a HIT!" If you knew me in my everyday life, you would realize that this just isn't who I am.

Still, once a year, the redneck from deep within surfaces and I just let it fly. And it feels gooooood.

Camping

We went camping over the week-end. Last week-end. You know when it was 90 degrees and about 400% humidity? Yeah, that's the one. Did I mention that it was hot? Well it was. The kids, of course, were oblivious to the heat, because that's how kids are. I thought I would melt.

We ended up camping not too far from home (which was necessitated by a lack of planning all around) and it worked out pretty well. Joe was able to run home to take care of the animals every day (or was he just running home to the air conditioning?) so we didn't have to worry about that. Plus, anything we forgot to pack (which was a lot) could be easily picked up.

I was raised as a camper. My parents took us camping pretty frequently throughout the years and we always had a lot of fun. We would get on our bikes and just ride and ride all around the campground, making friends along the way. And that's just what our kids did too. At one point I went looking for Max and found him smack dab in the middle of an impromptu water fight. Cool.

We camped with my Mom and my sister Kelly who both have motor homes. Joe and the kids and I were in a tent. The first night was waaaay too hot so the kids and I slept in the motor homes (Joe stayed home). After that, even though I thought it was still hot, the kids wanted to sleep in the tent. There is something very sweet and wonderful about the smell of a musty, moldy tent and the sound of zippers, zipping and unzipping.

Though I profess to be a true camper, I will confess that Joe and I sleep on an air mattress. Anything less would be inhumane really. Still, the air mattress presents its own challenges - mainly trying not the launch the other person off as you get on. Movement in the night requires teamwork and patience. At one point, Joe got up to head to the bathroom and I was sound asleep right until the moment I hit the ground - hard.

The tricky part about camping in a tent is that you have no "Center of Operations". It's like living out of bins and boxes and never being able to find the salt. And once you do find the salt, you realize that it's slightly damp like the rest of your stuff. Everything is always kind of damp and sandy. But that's just how camping is.

Still, it just reinforces my need to obtain a camper. I'm not super picky about what it would be - a pop-up would do just fine, I suppose. But a hard sided camper would be even better. Just a little extra protection from the elements and a dry place to keep my salt. I don't ask for much.

Joe is of the notion that you aren't really camping unless you have no electricity, no water and no bathrooms. That sounds more like a third world prison to me but I guess, to each their own. I've offered that he can take the kids on his kind of camping trip without me but, as of yet, I've not seen the plans for that take shape. Hmmm.

The Agony of August

"We'd like to take the kids for the day and then keep them for a sleepover if that's ok. We'd like to give you a little break." Sweeter words have never been spoken. Dave and Suzie (Joe's parents) have granted me this respite. To be fair, they grant me respite ALL the time. They step up and take the kids regularly and help out in a million other ways as well. But to hear them say that they'd like to give me a break is a really big deal to me personally - sort of an acknowledgement that this stage of life and kids isn't always easy.

I tend to be a bit of a whiner. I'm not from such hardy stock as they are. They both have come through really tough times to be where they are today and it certainly wasn't without some suffering. They raised their first child (who had serious health problems) in California, totally separated from family and the support it offers, but I can't imagine that Suzie whined about it. Then she went on to handle Greg and Joe and we all know what that must have taken out of her. Still, she was pretty stoic about it and didn't complain much.

I lean more towards the idea of having lots of chefs (or at least sous chefs) in the kitchen when it comes to raising kids. I figure, the more input and support that I have from others, the less the kids can pin on me later in therapy. Plus, I do tend to be a person who needs a mental break a little more often than most. I used to think that made me seem kind of weak, but I actually think it's a good thing to recognize about yourself. As a general rule I can handle day to day life with the kids but some days, it's just all too much.

I was on the phone with a friend yesterday who was going through the same situation. We were talking but she kept pulling the phone away to yell at the kids. The two older boys kept sending the younger one out to report on the situation inside the house (my friend was locked in her car in the garage). I'm not sure if my friend was rolling down the window or just yelling through the glass, but it's not my place to judge. Been there.

A lot of my mom friends are nearing the brink of madness right about now. When August hits and you're out of ideas for fun adventures with the kids (and you don't like the kids enough to do it anymore anyway) things get a little dicey. Another of my mom friends reported that their pool was still standing and it was CLEAN! She's always been an overachiever....

Now that the kids are gone I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. This is how it usually goes with me - I get SO fired up to have some free time but I'm never sure what to do with it. It's strange when cleaning the house ALL ALONE seems relaxing, but that seems to be the plan for the day. It sure isn't a day at the spa but it is a day to myself. Hooray for awesome grandparents!!

Obituary for a hamster

Our beloved Butterscotch

Butterscotch Nowak, Dexter, MI Age 8 months. Butterscotch passed away peacefully surrounded by family on July 21, 2010 after an extended battle with some weird tumor the size of a baseball. He was born sometime in November somewhere in a hamster breeding facility somewhere in Michigan (probably). Not clear on who his parents might have been but they obviously had some bad genes. Butterscotch didn’t really have a job, mostly because he was a hamster, but he did work really hard to escape his cage every chance he got, so I guess that counts for something. Butterscotch never really got a chance to marry or reproduce (thank goodness) but we’ll count his survivors as Max and Zoe and, I suppose, Joe and Julie Nowak. We will miss his twitchy little hamster face and his genuine love for all of us. Even at the end of his life he did his best to comfort those of us he was leaving behind. The family will receive friends if they happen to stop by for whatever reason from 2 - 4 p.m. and 6 - 8 p.m. on Thursday, July 22, 2010 and again on Friday, July 23, 2010 from 9 a.m. until the time of funeral service out by the garden. Internment to follow in a hole near the garden. In lieu of flowers memorial contributions may be made to “Let’s get Zoe a New Hamster That Isn’t Diseased” fund. (Just don’t contribute too much because they only cost about $10 bucks). He will be deeply missed.

Fair Week

It's fair week. It's hot, the kids are filthy, everyone has been in tears at least once and it's only Wednesday. Also, one of the goats got loose, Susan (my sister) actually "farmed up" and tackled the goat in the aisle. I was pretty impressed with her! The goat ("Cammie") was less than pleased because she thought she was in the clear, but Sue did a flying leap as "Cammie" rounded the corner and saved the day. Never mind that Sue was wearing some cute khaki pants and a matching cute shirt, which was then covered in goat hair. She sacrificed her outfit to save our goat and I will be forever grateful.

There is always at least one of each animal that gets loose during fair week. The cows and the horses are the most exciting ones but the goats and sheep keep it interesting as well. If you ever see a commotion and a bunch of people walking slowly, kind of crouched down with their arms outstretched, you know that some animal has had about enough of the fair.

Zoe and Max showed their chickens yesterday. For those of you who are not 4-H people, it's a little out of the ordinary to "show" a chicken. (I.e., "Show it what?") There's actually a lot to it and the competition is quite fierce. Some kids take it quite seriously (Emma) and others are just there for the ribbon (not mentioning names). The chickens could care less about the whole thing and just want to go back to their cage. I can't imagine what this all looks like from the animals' perspective. As if they didn't think we were crazy enough...

There is something very sweet and kind of humbling about watching the 4-H kids with their animals. I watched today as a toddler (complete with pacifier) walked a goat around who was about 100 pounds and towered over him. The goat just walked along without hesitation. Then you see a little 10 year old girl hauling around a 1200 pound steer and it makes you believe in the human-animal connection.

And then there are the parents and volunteers. The whole lot of them is completely crazy but none of this would happen without them. They give up their time, money, blood, sweat and tears for the 4-H program but more importantly for the kids in the program. They get, more than most, that kids need to get back to basics. Back to a time when it was ok to just be a farm kid and spend most of your time caring for your animals and playing on your property. You weren't running in 3 different directions trying not to be late for soccer and tuba practice while still maintaining a presence at swim practice. If it allows the kids to have a little more free time, I'm all for it.

The 4-H volunteers still believe in the idea of community and they understand the concept that it really does take a village to raise a child. They get the concept of giving back and of volunteering your time when it isn't always glamorous to do so. They attend countless meetings on countless evenings to make sure that things go smoothly. And for what? So that kids can learn where their food comes from. So that kids can learn to respect the land and the animals that sustain us. They can learn how to sew a dress or can some jam. Things that might be forgotten if we don't reinforce and celebrate them.

People make the mistake of thinking that 4-H is for "farm kids" only but that just isn't true. Kids can be involved in a lot of different ways even if they don't live on a farm. They can enter classes like creative writing, photography or jewelry making. They can join a club and start to meet kids and parents that they have things in common with. The parents then form their own community and it builds from there. There's no telling where we could go with this. Do yourself a favor and check out 4-H.

Close Call

I’ve survived yet another brush with death. Or at least it feels that way. I ended up in the Emergency Room the other night with kidney stones. Never having had them before I naturally assumed I was going to die. The only other time that I felt a similar amount of pain was when I was in labor. To be fair, I was in labor for all of about 20 minutes before being rushed off to get a C-section, but it was a rough 20 minutes. My sisters are natural born birthers – honestly, they were troopers all the way through. Sue gave birth in a birthing center with NO DRUGS and Kelly’s babies were all over 10 lbs (and at least one was born with no drugs).

Me? Well, I asked for the epidural at 7 months and was ready for the C-section at the doctor’s earliest convenience. With Zoe I actually did go into labor and they were going to make me deliver but it turned out that Zoe was breech. Whew. I was totally unprepared for an actual delivery. Joe and I had dropped out of Lamaze class and went to dinner and a movie instead.

Anyway, back to my near death experience… I started having pain around 4:00 pm and decided that I’d better get to the hospital. I had no idea what might be wrong – appendicitis, ectopic pregnancy, total body sepsis. The pregnancy thing really had me freaked out because I’ve seen waaaay too many episodes of “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant”. Lots of time spent screaming at the screen, “Come ON – how could you NOT know???”

So I figured it would be best to go to the hospital. Just in case. Now let me tell you one thing – my family is the best family on the planet when it comes to a crisis. We can mobilize quickly and efficiently, working out child care and car rides in a matter of moments. We thrive in an emergency setting. Needless to say, I got to the ER quickly and efficiently (Thanks Dad!).

After a VERY long wait in the waiting room, I finally got into a room to see the doctor. He informed me that they were going to start an IV and get me some pain meds – NOW we’re talkin’.

While I have many strengths, one of them is NOT that I have good veins. They’re horrible as a matter of fact. Everyone that tries to poke me misses at least once. By the time the third nurse was ready to take a stab at me, Joe and the kids showed up. Zoe was hysterical. Let me just summarize the situation – I’m in screaming, agonizing pain but my daughter is totally freaked out and crying. Yet another instance where I have to be the adult. Ugh. So as the nurse has stabbed the needle into my arm and is shifting it side to side to hit the vein, I’m smiling and telling Zoe that everything is fine. When it most certainly was not. All I really wanted at that point was the damn pain meds. The nurse came in with the meds and said “ok, here we go”. Finally, I could sense relief on the horizon. Almost. As soon as she started putting the meds into my IV I was faced with another challenge. With the kids about 2 feet away from me, I leaned over to the nurse and said, “I think I might be sick.” Good grief.

After NINE hours in the ER they sent me home with some Vicodin and their best wishes. The doctor told me that the stone should “pass” within 12 hours but that I should also be aware that they saw another stone on the other side as well. Great news.

Today was pretty bad. Never mind that it’s about 400 degrees out today and I was in the worst pain of my life. I think things finally resolved around noon today but I’m in such a Vicodin fog that I can’t really be sure. Either way, I’ve had enough and I’m going to bed. Tomorrow has GOT to be a better day.