Coming or Going home?

This past spring, I went Home. 

Ohio.

There is a weight, proverbial or otherwise that is lifted when I cross that state line.

There is a song from the musical In the Heights called "When you're home"

Benny says to Nina:

Nina, everything is easier
When you’re home…
The street’s a little kinder when you’re home 

And lawd that rings true. Although there was a shift that happened this trip, a shift that made me feel like a visitor and not like a homecoming. 

I realized that I don't have a home there anymore, I mean I knew that I, as an individual and part of my family unit knew I didn't have a home there. My ENTIRE family still resides in Ohio and the "door is always open."  My dad hasn't been exactly thrilled with this move and when you add our marriage troubles on top of it, he would be here in a UHAUL within 24 hours if I gave him the green light. Knowing that, even keeping the knowledge buried in the deep, dark depths of my mind, it gave me some relief that we always would have a place to go if needed. 

This trip was different because it was just me and Sarah and I could see within the first day that living there would NEVER be an option. I could see the annoyance and frustration edging in to my dad's tone and face. Nothing against him, but a three year old, even on a good day could push you to the brink of your sanity. So that safety net that I had was gone. His house wasn't my childhood house or a soft place to land anymore, it was a place that you can't hit the blocks together because it was too loud. 

Seeing him and feeling that same anxiety at his house that I did when I would stay with him when I was growing up made it feel less like being home and more like being a bother or being intrusive. 

I found myself longing to be home, but then raising the question where is home?  Am I so superficial that I need a needle point pillow that says "Home is where my shit is" ? or is it where we have the roots to show for it. Can I still say that I have roots in Ohio and GASP! are my roots taking to SC?

Even typing that makes me feel like I am cheating on Ohio. 

I still dreaded leaving, but pulling in to my driveway and stepping out in to the warm, coastal air wasn't all that bad either. 

Putting a pen to paper... sort of.

I have started writing so many times and I know that this can be therapeutic but where do I start?

I know I need an outlet and I have this dusty, half-ass look in to my life sitting here with a bunch of "Drafts" just sitting there, partiality written and probably bound for the delete button.

It has been so long and so much has happened that this post could rival Tolstoy. So to catch everyone up and to give CPR to this... this... thing I am going to bullet point the shit out of my life for the past year.

Annnnnnnnd here we go:

1. I hate SC, this causes serious issues in  my marriage
2. I lost my job. this causes financial issues
3. I want to move back to Ohio, this causes issues in my marriage
4. I went thought a major depression that I wasn't sure I was going to make it out of it
5. Playing with make up can be especially therapeutic when you are depressed
6. Sarah, through all of this has become an amazing little kid. I can't believe how lucky I am to see this little girl grow up.
7. Came out of the depression, a little worse for wear but still intact
8. Husband and I FINALLY talked about future stuff and we are communicating again

there is plenty of other things that I could list, but I feel like those are the main points.

So look for more posts and maybe a blog face lift. It needs it more the Honey Boo Boo's mom since the weight loss. I get she needs a neck lift? But a lift is a lift right?

Routine

I broke the first Cardinal rule of parenting.


....deep breath.....

I never established a routine for Sarah.....

And as someone's 3rd birthday is looming, this unconscience  decision that was made is coming around to bite this mom in the ASS.

Sarah used to be a great sleeper, down and out by 830 on the dot. As she has gotten older and her surroundings have changed she takes the whole "bedtime" thing a lot less serious. She knows she will get around to it eventually, and can't understand WHY all the adults are so obsessed with something so boring. I mean she does have a pretty packed schedule, between potty training, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, tickles and bath time, there just aren't enough hours.

That unspoken curse every mother murmurs under their breath when the child is acting a fool, you know the one, you yourself have probably heard it a time or two.. "One day, I hope you have a kid JUST LIKE YOU." This witchcraft is real and very powerful, and has been fulfilled in my offspring.

This kid, like me and my father before me, is a night owl. She will be knocking on the sandman's door all afternoon but as soon as that clock hits 9 she gets her second wind and the nightly struggle begins. I am ashamed to say that there have been nights that she as seen the AM side of a late night.

Husband and I have been getting closer and closer to a bridge that we are going to have to inevitably cross, breaking Sarah of her bad night time habits and starting a routine. To be honest, up until about a week ago, we couldn't even find the damn bridge and when we did our favorite song came on the radio and we had to finish or it looked like it was going to rain. Yesterday was the day, the point of no return.

Sarah had a horrible night, husband and I have been sleeping in separate rooms to accommodate our little princess and she had decided to "sleep" with Daddy.  I use the term loosely because she didn't fall asleep for about another 2 hours. Then it was up early for school and this was the first time she had ever pushed back and not wanted to go see her guys, as she so affectionately calls them. She didn't want to get up, she didn't want to get dressed and didn't want her Grammy to leave her at school. Then it happened, at pick up time one of the teachers came over and had to have a chat with my mom. Sarah hadn't just had a bad night and an off morning, this was the first time in almost a year of attendance that they had to reprimand Sarah, in their politically correct way of course. When I got this news all of the bad decision making and leniency on our part had finally caught up with us.

This behavior didn't stop when we got home, she pushed boundaries, didn't listen to anyone and by bath time we were all exhausted and so was she. We needed a plan, not only does she not have a routine but she also has started to exibit some troublesome behavior that we need to stop before it becomes the norm.

I laid in bed last night and my mind was racing, between thoughts of failures as parents to bouncing back from this. I was also torn, Sarah has accomplished so much this past week, we started potty training and she took off with it, She has only had one accident. How is it she can grasp something like potty training so easily but not bed time? Then it hit me, with the potty training we were rewarding her for using the potty and when it came to bed time we were always tired and pretty much begging, pleading and loosing patience with her.

I hit pinterest and the craft aisle at target and came home with a plan. A reward board! Why had I never thought about this before?!?!?!? We are going to try to address more than one issues with this board but also not overwhelm her. I think/hope/pray that this will help us right our terrible, most thinkable wrong.

Cool Kids

Sarah's school is fancy.

It follows a new and improved curriculum for kids even her age, that would put my old school Sesame Street edu to shame.

In all honesty, I didn't have much to do with the picking of said school. At the time Sarah was involved in My Gym and they decided to close their doors so we were left, very suddenly, with "what do we do now?"

Still being raw from the move and being thrust in to a new city, new job, new home, I was actually relieved when my SIL said she was looking for a particular program for Sarah. Between the two of them, my MIL and SIL have 40 years of education experience, so sure I let them take the reigns on this one.

Anyway, the new shiny, fancy school has done wonders for Sarah. She LOVES going to see her "guys" as she calls everyone. This new, shiny school had parent/teacher conferences last night and in a moment of mom guilt I decided to go. Up until last week, I had never stepped foot on NSS (new,shiny school), not for lack of wanting but momma's gotta pay bills. So I became the ever absent mother, and God love husband, he does a lot of the drop off and pick up and his car is the Bermuda triangle. NOTHING (including Amelia Earhart) makes it in to the house from school. Things have been missed like special art days and a class fiesta.

I arrived early yesterday and decided to sit in my car and browse buzz feed and revel in the few moments I had to listen to music that didn't include a single animal sound. Cars carrying other parents started to fill the spaces next to me and I when riders emptied out in the courtyard I noticed all the moms greeting one another, hugging and catching up. They all looked like they stepped out of those fabletitcs commercials, kids all dressed in traditional, smocked southern attire. I felt the pangs of something I hadn't felt in over ten years. I was transported back to the school cafeteria, holding that always sticky plastic tray, hoping to see a familiar face in the crowd.

I that feeling, one of being a lone in a sea of people, hit me hard. I could almost smell the intoxicating mix of number two pencil shavings and pizza (Fiesta pizza day was my fave lunch day of the week). I almost didn't wan to get out of the car, what would they think when I walked past? Bags under my eyes, glasses smudged, a stain on my shirt from lunch, a hair tie that is barely hanging on.

Would they judge me? Would they greet me as warmly as they had each other? Are they fitness instructors coming in between teaching a class?

I didn't have the answers to these burning questions I had but there is one thing I did know: I wanted, as much as I did in that school cafeteria,  to be a "cool kid."

When you know it's time.

I had my last therapy session a few weeks after Sarah was born, she was snuggled up on my chest and I talked about the whirlwind of my labor and where I was now.

In that moment I felt so close to complete. I felt like I had been pieced back together so well that you would need a microscope to see the cracks. Kitty said that this can happen when people have depression. When you body goes through such a significant change, such as pregnancy and childbirth, the positive effects can be lasting.

I prided myself on the fact that I had broken free of my depression and that I had a strong hold on it. I was going about my day to day life with out that darkness taking hold. It was an amazing feeling.

Fast forward and here we are, almost three years later and I am watching the clock, waiting for 330 so I can make my way to an appointment with a new therapist. My name sits in the last slot of a complete strangers list, they don't know me, nor I them. I hate having to try to connect with someone's single paragraph bio. I am dreading this appointment but I know the cathartic release that will come from it.

I knew it was time when I started feeling the darkness seep in to the settling cracks in my foundation

there in the thoughts that kept me up at night
there in the silent prayers to stay in bed all day
there in the tears I shed alone
there in the old, familiar excuses
there in the silence
there in the bottom of the bottle I now found comfort in
there in the minutes in hours before I can go to sleep and escape

I feel like I am loosing grip of all the work I have done up until now, this foundation I made is crumbling and I am afraid it is taking my marriage and parenthood with it.

That is the one thing I hate about this disease, it is so unforgivably selfish. My daughter doesn't understand why I just yelled at her and now I am holding her sobbing and tell her "mommy's sorry, mommy has a hurt." My husband is just now accepting that this is REAL, this is a real disease and isn't just me being difficult or using depression as a scapegoat to be self centered.

I know it's my time again, to regain control.

Mary Poppins

I have been pegged this before and have been guilty of pegging people in to this category.

These are friends that you have RIGHT NOW, the friendship ignites quickly and you become engulfed in each others everyday lives, like you were always meant to be there. But then, the kindling starts to break and char and as fast as the spark produced the flame it is gone.

This can literally happen overnight, on a Monday you are inseparable but by Thursday one of you has made the cut and other is left with the scab.

This happened once with one of my "best" friends, I will state for the purpose of this post that we are friends now, but it took years.

Long story short, we were bffs through high school, I went away to college, got super depressed, moved home, became super clinging and there may have been a late night call where I was sobbing because she took me off of her top 8 on myspace. I wasn't mentally and obviously emotionally in a good place in my life. So she made the cut, no contact, avoided me like the plague, which was problematic considering I was still friends with sister.

I remember writing her a therapeutic letter, and that was that, a few months or years later, I can't remember that this point I got a response and from then on we have been friends. Not like we were but that was ok.

This type of situation hurts, I am not sure if both parties hurt, I have never asked her, but from the the cut side it hurts like a mother.

I am finding myself in this same situation again, not as painful this time as frustrating.

Backstory:
This friend and I have been in and out of each others lives since I was a freshman in high school. He went through a divorce a few years ago, made a couple wrong choices and is now going through a very difficult time with the mother of his child, with whom he is divorcing.

I care about him, he has the biggest heart, works hard, and has wanted to be a family man since I can remember. When I found out about the trouble he was having with his soon to be ex wife, I reached out to him, just to make sure he was ok.

Facebook can deceive, everyone has seen that post that says, "may your life be as awesome as it is on Facebook" and in this instance, looks can be deceiving. They loving tagged each other in posts, poked fun at one another in loving jest, and I was SO excited when they announced they were pregnant, because like I said this kid has wanted to be a family man since I can remember.

Then the posts started to dwindle, and you would think with first baby mania, posts would be EVERYWHERE! Then I saw it  "separated".

We have been talking for a few months, I am giving him baby advice, reminiscing about the past and my goal was to just provide a few minutes of escape for him everyday.  And sometimes he would do the same for me, it was nice to have a new friend to discuss things with.  I am friends with the people I work with but these friendships don't seem to extend past 8a-5p Monday-Friday, and the family I have down here doesn't really jump at the bit to include me in everything, and that is a whole other post. We all remember those days of new friendships though, and how excited you were when you both had something in common and could exchange facts about it and talk about it for hours. Those were the ties that bind really. Now, though it isn't a boy band or movie, we talk politics, relationships and about life in general.

But recently the cycle is starting again, the conversations are becoming one sided, the time between more expansive. Then they just stopped altogether.

Then the doubt starts, did I say something wrong, did I think our friendship was stronger than it really was? I will rack my brain and chide myself for saying this or that. Why am I so drop-able? So easily removed?

Maybe I shouldn't see this as a bad thing, maybe I am the person that comes in to your life when you need it and when you don't need me anymore I slowly fade away in to your scrapbook, if you are in to that sort of thing. A person you shelf until you need again.

O.M.G. maybe I am Mary effing Poppins! I mean I do have some pretty fabulous accessories and do break out in to random song. Although, I don't know a cockney chimney sweep named Bert, nor have I ever danced with penguins... life goals.

I guess my friendship has full-filled its purpose and the cut has already begun.

My twenties

This year, actually if you want me to break it down it's 119 days... but who's counting, I turn the big

30

And I, like most twenty somethings on the eve of what for so long is thought of as "the end", have some mixed emotions. 

I set myself up for disaster, I know that now,  I am almost over the proverbial hill and think to myself "where are all the crazy wild times I am going to have to hide evidence of to my children?" 

I sat in front of my tv, seeing "twenty somethings" living lives in places I had only dreamed of and wished time away, wanting so badly to BE them. I wanted to be the 7th friend, I wanted to be the ONE new love of Carrie and girls life. I know Carrie wasn't in her twenties, and was in fact terrified that they were stealing all the men, including Mr.Big. But I always felt like an old soul and Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte would see that. 

I thought these scripted, staged experiences were what being in your twenties was all about, I thought I would find my small group of friends in a coffee shop somewhere talking about our latest exploits in sowing our wild oats, learning from each other all while looking fabulous! 

We can all come to the conclusion that my twenties, along with a million others, were set ablaze when we realized the real world loves to watch you crash and burn... hard. 

Ok, maybe I am being a little over dramatic, but I remember the naive few months before graduation and making big plans to move to NYC ..... then I saw how much a shoe box, split 5 ways cost. How the heck did Carrie do it? I googled rent controlled and nothing came up... 

The gang at Central Perk faded in to the background and my twenties started to take on a form of its own, like nature intended. 

As the numbers are dwindling on my twenties and I am about to start a new chapter, I often find myself in contemplative remembrance, thinking about the sheer magnitude of it all. 

In my twenties I got my first "big girl" job and learned about the golden handcuffs. 

In my twenties I married the love of my life. 

In my twenties I lived in my first house that was not only my own, but it was the first time I lived free of being connected by walls to neighbors. 

In my twenties I learned to accept people for who they are instead of grieving who they aren't.

In my twenties I learned the importance of being smart with your money. 

In my twenties I finally took charge of my depression, got help and took charge of my disease. 

In my twenties I felt real heart break.

In my twenties I learned I can do this on my own, but choose not too. 

In my twenties I finally saw myself as beautiful. 

In my twenties I learned that my body is able, 

In my twenties my focus completely changed.

In my twenties I became less neurotic. 

In my twenties I left home. 

In my twenties I learned never leave home without putting on a little mascara and blush

In my twenties I opened my self up to trying new trends that I thought were off limits for girls of my size. 

In my twenties I almost left my husband, but stayed 

In my twenties I almost lost my mom, but listened to my gut and got her to the hospital. 

To say that my twenties were amazing would seem like small words. Nothing is big enough to talk about this chapter of  my life. I can remember not being able to think outside of the 20-25 box and hard it hit me when I had to check 25-30. Something about being 30 makes me think I will finally be "of age" and finally an adult, maybe it's because I am closing in on how old my mom was when she had me. I am excited to put my check in another age range box, and want to show 30 what's up.