Snow Day

I woke up and told my sweet husband I needed 10 more minutes of sleep. . . 10 minutes later, that saint is back to remind me that the day awaits and if I'm going to have a shot at getting to work on time I better get up; the roads are bad.

I don't want to get out of bed. I want to sleep in like my daughters are. I'm stiff as the cold floor meets my bare feet. I hate the cold.

I look outside. The stupid snow is glaring at me. On the days when I was a stay-at-home-mommy, I would look outside at the snow and see images of making snow angels with Essy, building a snow man, or simply eating handfuls of the white powdery ice until we couldn't feel our fingers. . . we'd come inside and make hot chocolate (or "warm-chocolate", according to my very literal 3 year old) and we'd snuggle and watch movies and warm up in our pajamas. All day. We'd go no where.

But not anymore, now I am tiptoeing around my house, trying not to disturb those sweet sleeping beauties while I make a days worth of bottles and meals.

Derek leaves to go get the sitter. Yes, the sitter - because although the rest of the world still has to go to work, our childcare is closed for the day due to "inclement weather". Thanks a lot. Now I get to pay for your services that I am not receiving AND a sitter. Let it snow --- let it freaking snow!!

My girls wake up just in time. Just time to make me late, but I don't care. I want to hug their little bodies and feel those sweet rosy cheeks next to mine, still warm from being tucked in bed until 2 minutes prior.
I go to leave so I can be to work on time and change my mind. I'll sit for just 5 minutes and snuggle. It'll get me through my day.

I slip and slide a couple of times on my way there but no damage. Monday morning awaits with plenty to do. I get right to it.
I'm so busy, I have little time to notice how badly my throat is hurting, or the ache in my bones. I didn't feel to well over the weekend but now it's time to put my "big girl panties on" and deal with it.

I get am email at 9:00am. Lucy's school has decided to open. . . Awesome. After some coordinating with the hubs, he decides it makes more sense for him to get Lu and take her in while Ester stays home with the sitter. It'll be easier on everybody.

All day I feel worse and worse. . . but i keep thinking about my loves that need me and I press on, requesting updates from my sitter as the day passes. 3 o'clock my cell rings. It's Lu's daycare: "she has green mucus, come and get her. She can return with a doctor's note."

Oh - joy.

I pick Lu up and take her to the nearest Urgent Care. The receptionist gives me attitude for not having my license because OF COURSE I left it with my husband from our date the night before. That's what I get for trying to have a little fun, I guess.

After calling Derek's administrative assistant to fax a copy of it over to us, we're squared away. 75 minutes and $100 later I have my note stating that Lucy is not contagious and may return to school, it's just allergies.

I am so grateful she is not "REALLY" sick but annoyed that I had to take time away from work and time away from home and hard earned money over this. . . thus, is parenthood, I suppose.

We pick up the sitter and Essy, take said sitter home, and return to ours . . . FINALLY. As I pull the girls out of the car I see that most of the snow it melted. The roads are clear and all that is to show from it all is a tiny patch of melting snow on
our lawn in the shade of our tree.

We come inside and I smell our dinner. . . burning in the crock-pot. FAIL. I peek inside and see the meat caramelizing in the barbecue sauce, all black and crusted. I forgot to turn it to "keep warm" when I left this morning. Whoops. I am super-mom.


I give the girls a snack while I try and throw something else together. So much for saving time on cooking in order to have more time playing with my children.

I swear, this feels like one of those stupid Ben Stiller movies that I hate where everything goes wrong and while everyone else is laughing about it, I'm left stressed, just wanting something to go right for the guy! I mean, his name is Gaylord Focker, for crying out loud!!

Out of the cinema - back to reality - feed your children.

Dinner is done: cheese, lunch meat, fruit, and left-over baked potatoes. Watch out, Betty Crocker!!

Daddy is home - just in time! We eat and my husband stomachs the meat in the crock-pot. Saint, I tell you! The man is a saint! I wash the dishes while I hear them all playing in the living room.

Here it goes. My favorite part of the day, when we are all together. The part where I can forgot about the last 10 hours and be thankful for the remaining 2. This is it, Lord. This is it. This is what I do it all for. This is what makes my soul awaken and my heart leap and my eyes well up with gratitude. Those giggles that quickly move into belly-laughs. All those hugs and tickles and even the toots that make us curl over in laughter. Little girls are so cheery. And these are the moments that get us through the bedtime routine. . . the meltdowns and tired whines that lurk around the corner from my little time in paradise.

But as soon as those sweet minds calm and eyes are sound asleep = Bliss. Because I can look at them peacefully.

Tonight, as Lucy fell asleep on my shoulder, I sat with her for a moment in the darkness and I rocked her. I felt her sweet breath on my neck as her hand held on to the other side of my face. And I breathed her in. I thanked God for this sweet, sleeping baby and for this precious window of time that I get to hold her while she sleeps. I felt her body on top of mine and began to cry. How is my sweet baby already 10 months old? How is she so big that her body drapes from my shoulder to my knee? I cried because I love her. I cried because I'm grateful. I cried because I am sad that time is slipping by me so quickly. I cried because someone else gets to play with her most of her days while I am away at work. I cried because I am so proud that this little one is mine. I cried and I cried and I cried. . . and I'm crying while I type this.

And tonight, in about 10 minutes when Derek pulls Ester out of our bathtub and we begin to get her settled and she falls asleep, I will go in her room and watch her breath deeply. I will stroke her hair and be grateful that she is safe and that she is mine. I will cry because I love her. I will cry because I cannot believe how big and how smart she is. I will cry and cry.

Because even though this snow day made me cranky, and even though I didn't get to spend it playing outside with my girls, and even though I still feel like shit and my throat feels like it's on fire, I am still grateful. I am so very grateful for all of the moments that I DO have. And hopeful for more. And just maybe the next time it snows it will be on a weekend, or a holiday, or my work will close too . . . and if not, then maybe I'll take a vacation day!

Panic! . . . not the disco kind.

This post will probably be similar to the last in that I am writing in exhaustion and desperation. Those are two words that I feel most days: exhausted and desperate.

It's almost midnight and I should be asleep. The rest of my house is. I can hear all 3 of my loves breathing deeply and I am so glad that they are resting peacefully. But I can't tonight. To be totally transparent: I am anxious. My heart is racing as fast as my mind and they are both moving at a speed that makes me feel dizzy.

So instead of lying in bed like a tortured spirit, I am getting up, opening up, and releasing . . . and like a girl of Gen Y, I am choosing to do so on some form of social media.

I do this a lot lately: panic. I started to struggle with anxiety my senior year of high school. I remember the first "panic attack" that I had. I was driving and I pulled over because I literally thought I was going to die. I thought I was having a heart attack. I got dizzy, sweaty, I was shaking, and my heart and mind felt out of control. I clammed up and almost felt out of my body. I tried to pray but I couldn't get control of my mind. I was so scared and my heart was burning and pounding, like a knife of pain was shooting through my chest, from the front to the back. I threw up and then waited. I don't remember how long I waited but eventually I realized I wasn't dying and felt "with it" enough to drive home.

That happened on and off the rest of my Spring semester of my senior year. It would happen out of the blue and I eventually chalked it up to the stress of life and didn't give it much thought. . . Until about a year later. By the Spring semester of my freshman year of college I truly was a mess. It got to where I had several panic attacks a day. It got so bad at one point, I was scared to leave my room. I hated how out of my mind I felt when it would happen. And it usually happened right in the middle of class or right in the middle of work. I hated it. Hated it.

That was a really hard time for me. My lifestyle wasn't very healthy, as I was barely sleeping, eating greasy/crappy food, and staying up late. I had gained a lot of weight, my face had broken out, and I was really stressed in general. I was "unhappy" and struggled with a lot of self-hatred. One day, I woke up and decided to get help.

I went to the clinic on campus to talk to a doctor. I was so honest about what I was going through. I figured the doctor I was talking to (who barely looked a day over 20) probably thought I was crazy. But I didn't care because I felt crazy and didn't want to feel that way anymore. He quietly listened to me ramble on and on and cry and sob about it all. He nodded his head and said he was going to get something and left the room. I sat there alone, crying. . . and started to have a panic attack.

A couple minutes later, a (female) nurse came in the room and handed me a piece of paper with information about "panic disorder" on it. She sat quietly while I tried to read it as my mind raced and tried to make sense of the words on the paper. She then handed me a prescription for Xanax to walk over to the pharmacy.

I was dumbfounded.

I went home.

I prayed.

I panicked.

I decided to do some research. . . I Googled it.

I decided not to take Xanax. I didn't want something that might help. I wanted a REMEDY.

Let me take a moment and switch gears - If you take Xanax or any other similar drug, I am in NO WAY making a statement about your decision or situation. I am not a doctor. I am not you. I do not know what is best for you and what works for you and how your body is made up. I am not your Creator (or my own) so I am not pretending to have a clue about the drug, or anything relating to it other than the fact that after my tiny bit of reading things found on Google, I just felt that it wasn't for me.

So, instead, I made an appointment with a counselor. I started exercising. (I wish I could say I started eating healthy and sleeping better but those life changes came later)

It got better. I started to panic less and eventually I got to where when I had an "attack", my mind didn't freak out. Instead of getting wrapped up in the chaos and confusion of my brain, I would speak truths to myself - mostly scripture. I did this until my mind would quiet. Often times, my body was still reacting (shaking, shortness of breath and chest pain) but I refused to let my mind react. It almost became a personal challenge. I would start to physically feel the panic setting in and I would immediately start speaking truth to my mind, to my heart and inner self.

I learned to live with it. I'm still learning.

I know that when I am stressed, they are more likely. I know that when I am eating poorly, not sleeping, and very busy, they are more likely.

Currently, I am in a season of a lot of stress. This is another "hard time" for me. My mind is so cluttered with things to remember, responsibilities that I have to meet. . . Like I said, I am exhausted and desperate.
I am a little lot crankier these days and my head feels in a fog most of the time.

So, as expected, I am struggling with panic attacks. . . but I am hopeful that "This too shall pass."

To be totally honest, I've been "in a rut". I've been guilty of a lot of "stinkin' thinkin'" lately and my attitude has been horrible. I feel most guilty about how this affects those around me. (My family, my co-workers, my friends).

So, it's time to redirect. It's time to start speaking truths again. Not only to my own confused mind, but to those around me. It's time to choose to have a good attitude. It's time to put to practice the things I know in my heart to bring peace, to actively seek the rest that is offered to me (even in the midst of the chaos I create or the chaos the world offers to me).

And it's time to go to rest. Metaphorically and literally . . . because after all of this release, I am no longer anxious, but only tired. (Thank God!)


"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. . . do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me — practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you." - Philippians 4:4-9