Let’s start with off with this nugget. Parenting is hard. Working and parenting is hard. Staying home and parenting is hard. It’s all hard. Over the last 8 weeks I have stayed home in every sense of the word. I have always worked or side hustled throughout my entire motherhood. I worked until the day before I had my daughter. Went back after 8 weeks. Had twins and went back after 12 weeks and then became a foster mama to an 8 week old while working a home business….and then went back to work when he was bigger. Throughout all of these years I have also benefited from having jobs that either allowed me to bring the kids along and pay for a sitter, had a daycare in my place of work, worked from home in the middle of my chaos or had amazing grandparents that helped so I could work.
For the last 8 weeks I have not side hustled, worked, pursued a job or in all honestly, left my house so much. Some observations on myself.
I’m not the best at this. I have friends who absolutely slay the SAHM gig. They craft, sing, playdate, creative lunch and do all the things like a boss. I am not good at much of this. I hate the mess of crafting. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. I would be happy to drink coffee for all the meals of the day so creative lunches are out of the question. With that said, I have playdoughed, colored, sticker booked and flashcarded over the last 8 weeks so A for effort, F for enthusiasm.
I am finding myself swallowed whole with anxiety over my tiny humans. Full disclosure, prone to anxiety to begin with but the singular focus over the last couple of months is ramping it up in ways I never imagined. I have become the spelling word nazi and the reading time enforcer. There have also been lots of water works (theirs and mine) over trivial school stuff that wouldn’t matter that much or at least shouldn’t. In short, we are going to need to divide my anxiety/energy or I may be voted off of my own island.
The SAHM gig can be very isolating without a magnitude of effort especially right after a relocation. We have signed up for the all the things. We are in mom’s group at church. We go to story time at the library. We are working the park circuit. And each of the places I go, I feel like a guy in my late 20’s walking my dog around the park trying to pick up women…..except I’m not. I’m something marginally sadder than that. I’m a late 30’s mom chasing her toddler around the park, trying not to spill her over priced coffee while attempting to make small talk with other exhausted, overly caffeinated SAHM’s like myself. Who knew I could be middle school girl awkward in my 30’s. Fun.
In this transition, it has been a huge blessing. I can take and make calls for therapy services for our little guy in the middle of the day without having to worry about anything. I can also tell therapy places, “We are wide open. When is your first available?” All the boxes are unpacked and the curtains are officially up. I went to my first PTO meeting, so there is that. One of the big boys failed his vision screening at school and I will be able to take him to the eye doctor and get glasses without having to call off work at my new job.
It has been amazing getting to know and enjoy Benton. We do all the things together. We read the stories, we take the naps, we do the shopping. He is joy packaged into a tiny busy body and I am lucky to have had a first row seat to that show.
It has been an 8 weeks of giving myself lots of grace and of talking through this with some amazing mama’s who are walking the same or similar walk. It has also been 8 weeks of preparing myself for what comes next. I am hoping to start volunteering at a local organization soon. Our littlest may be starting preschool in January and I know I will need to fill the time that will suddenly be less loud and busy.
So please raise your coffee mugs with me in memory of the years of tiny humans and awkward mom moments and in honor of the years of slightly less tiny humans and perhaps finding myself again that is coming. May we all figure it out as it comes and put a little less pressure on ourselves to already know the things that can’t be known yet.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 There is a time for for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.
Today, without a single shot being fired, we, the Gabbards correctly assembled 3 (let that sink in), no less than 3 pieces of Ikea furniture TOGETHER. We worked together as a team, shared our tools, spoke kindly to one another and declared expletive free victory over our project. For those of you who say, Big Freaking Deal and joyfully have set up a volleyball net with your spouse with zero issues, this blog post is not for you. In fact, this whole blog situation at Raising Crazies in totality is not for you. For those of you who are incapable of packing the car for vacation together without raised voices and slamming of roller suitcases, you are our people.
Andrew and I will be celebrating 12 years of marriage in just a few weeks. Apparently that is the exact amount of time it takes to be able to collaboratively accomplish an assembly task. How did they make it 12 years without being able to work together you ask? We do some things pretty well together. We are excellent at going out to dinner together, going to sporting events together, depending on the day we are even pretty solid at child rearing together. Pretty early in our marriage and even dating, I realized that sometimes it was best to just have one person do it. This list included furniture assembly and really assembly of any kind, taxes, packing the car for vacation, cooking and putting away groceries. I’m sure there are more, but I would have to ask Andrew and I don’t want to push my luck after such a great day. For some of these things, it doesn’t even matter who does it, just that the other one doesn’t help. We are a classic case of too many cooks in the kitchen.
But today friends, today the tide turned. Today, we made beautiful, inexpensive Swedish furniture together without any crying, yelling or swearing. Not only that, but then we finished it off by utilizing said furniture pieces together in a Pinterest DIY dual desk situation. See pictures below for proof of our wedded bliss/completed project and feel free to comment how amazing it/we are. I feel like that bodes well for our ability to share this office space in our new home. Sometimes, early in marriage there are moments of pure chemistry and magic. We still have those sometimes too but golly, moments of harmonious, normal, everyday living like this are pretty magical to this old married gal too.
In January of 2018, I decided to take control of my health and had weight loss surgery. I had struggled with my weight my entire life and I didn’t love the example I was setting for my children. In preparation for surgery, I lost over 30 lbs and have since dropped 100 lbs from my heaviest weight (right after I had my twins). Determined to not waist the blessing, I started running about 8 weeks after surgery. I couldn’t believe how much easier it was to run a mile without the additional weight on me. I don’t think I realized how bad I felt until I felt so good.
My dad ran a marathon while I was in high school and since then, it has always been on my bucket list. Why not now? I started researching “flattest marathons in the country.” Because I like to run but I’m not totally crazy at this point. Turns out, one of them was the Marine Corps Marathon in D.C. Upon doing more research, I discovered that this marathon is HUGE. They have a lottery system to get in and only take 30,000 runners. I talked to Andrew (not sure he realized all the child raising he was signing up for at the time) and he agreed that it was worth throwing my name in the hat if it would keep me motivated. I signed up that night. At this point I was only running 3 miles at a time. I thought, gosh, if I get in I need to be a stronger runner and I took a screen shot of a marathon plan for beginners on Pinterest (super scientific approach) and started running more. Turned out all that training was perfect because I got in! In October of 2018, just 9 months after having weight loss surgery, I crossed the finish line in D.C. and completed 26.2 miles to the cheers of my amazing marathon finishing father.
I will do it again in Columbus, OH this October to the same cheers of my dad and joined by my 3 big kids, mom and husband and right next to one of my very best friends. I am so excited for this one, because there is something super cool about your children getting to see you work really hard and accomplish something huge. Makes you more life a person for a moment and not just a mom and hopefully inspires them that they can work hard and do hard things too.
In the beginning I ran because I was afraid of gaining the weight back. That is still a motivation but more than that, it has become a part of my mental health. Today, my littlest and I were just getting on each others nerves. It was not all him. I was annoying too. After lunch, I tucked him into the stroller and took off for 5 miles in the heat of the day because I needed a break and so did he. We both feel better for different reasons. About a mile in, he fell asleep and I cranked up the music on my phone (hello early 2000s hip hop music) and just sweated out all the stress of the day. At this point, I run because it makes me a better mom, and a better person. Running may not be it for you, but find something that resets you, contributes to your health and breathes a little bit of gratitude into your spirit. Now if only I could smoothly transition this sleeping stud from stroller to bed. Maybe in my next mom life.
There is something super final about walking through your empty home after the movers have loaded all your things. For weeks we have known it was coming. For weeks we have told friends and family and watched them be sad for our pending departure but it wasn’t until the stuff of our life in Ohio started exiting my front door that it hit me like a ton of bricks. Cue the tears and the running across the culdesac to hug my neighbor that I borrowed countless packs of taco seasoning from. For those of you who don’t know, taco seasoning is the modern day version of a cup of sugar. So much has happened in this home. We potty trained twin toddlers in this home. (Air High Five to ME!). We sent our oldest three kiddos off to their first days of kindergarten here. We accepted placement of a tiny baby who became our son under this roof. Our kids have grown so close to their amazing grandparents and other extended family. So much life has happened. We have made friends here. We have made friends who have become family here.
So much to be grateful for. And if I think about it purely, I’m not sure I’m actually experiencing sadness as much as I am extreme gratitude for all of it. I am so grateful for the opportunity to be so close to our family for these years. I am also so grateful that we won’t be that far away in our new home. I am so grateful for the amazing people that God has blessed us with. So many unexpected people blessings. I’m so grateful we said yes to foster care and the joy that our little boy has brought to our lives. I’m thankful for all the Aunt Sarah dates that my sister in law has taken our kids on and the relationship they have grown. It is overwhelming how amazing these last 4 years have been.
I’m not scared for our new adventure. I trust that we five extroverts (don’t worry honey, we have it covered) will secure new friends in our new town. I’m feeling confident that the school will be welcoming and exciting for the kids and I am so excited for the new opportunity for Andrew that is bringing us into this new adventure. What is giving me some pause is what this all means for me. I will no longer be a foster mom in our new state. I will no longer work for a non-profit. I will be something new and different. I’m curious about what that might look like. I am, however, confident that I will figure it out. Anyone else out there have a 1/3 life crisis? We will all figure it out right? Certainly. Until then, here’s to unloading, unpacking, painting, driver’s license securing, church hunting, extracurricular activity securing and marathon training. We can all sleep when we are dead, mama friends, there are important things to do and figure out.
Today we took pastries to our son’s former caseworker. She not only placed him in our home but she also walked us to the finish line to finalize his adoption. It was her birthday and we wanted to see her before we move. I will never forget the first time I talked to Alison on the phone. She called to let me know she was picking up Benton from the hospital and would be at our house later that day. I could tell in her voice she was worried about him. We were new foster parents, unknowns to her and she cared about this little baby so much already. When she arrived at our house with him tucked into his car seat, she came in my door and put his seat on the table. I couldn’t believe how tiny he was and I just burst into tears over the weight of what we had signed up for. That night, his first night in our home, I accidentally butt dialed her in the middle the night as I was waking him up to feed him.
At 3am she called me back. “Is he okay?”
“He is. I’m so sorry. I’m just getting him up to feed him. We are good. I promise.”
Over the coming months we would see her at least once a month and talked more often than that. She would update us and let us know when visits were on and when they were cancelled. She made us feel like we were a part of the process but more than any of that, she never gave up on his birth mom. She had tough love conversations with her. She got her resources to begin her journey to wellness. She didn’t quit on her. Because of this, I have stories to tell my son about how hard his first mom tried to be with him. He had several months of regular visits. Because Alison never gave up, I have a notebook of letters that his first mom and I wrote back and forth to each other over those months that I will one day give him. Those are precious gifts to me and to our little boy.
I would imagine that being a caseworker is an exhausting job. I would also imagine that it would be very easy to let that exhaustion compromise the important work you do or become callus to the despair of others. But I will tell you this, when we came in to see her today. She cried as my son played and laughed and counted and chatted with people in the waiting area. She has not been made hard by this work. She may be tired but she isn’t running from the hurt of the job she does. She is brave.
As we left children’s services today, I looked at Benton and said, “Miss Alison got to hold you before Mommy. She is an important part of your journey to get to us. She kept you safe until you got to me. Do you understand?” And just like he responds to almost everything right now, he said, “I doooooo.” But one day he really will. There needs to be a word bigger than gratitude because that word, that is what we feel.
It was 1:25pm when we pulled out the driveway. Benton is in the fun stage where he refuses to nap but is a grumpy turkey during the time when he should be napping. Put him down for a nap anyway you say, no thanks. Last time I did that he stayed awake and emptied an entire tube of Butt Paste into his hair. Let me tell you how easy it is to get something that is designed to be water resistant out of a thick head of hair. Sigh. So in lieu of napping, we sometimes just try to get out of the house to avoid the grumps. Today’s mission was to drop donations off at Goodwill and go to Kroger to pick up some odds and ends for the rest of the week. We got to Goodwill and as I put the car into park in the drop off area, I looked in the back seat and there he was, sound asleep.
Should I risk waking the bear to get the things I need at the grocery store? I sat in the parking lot for a moment and decided that I wasn’t going to pick that battle today. Benjamin will not die from not having an apple in his lunch tomorrow but I may actually die if I have to push a screaming, irrational toddler through an entire Kroger.
So you know what I did? I did this.
I took myself to Dairy Queen, whispered my order through the drive thru intercom and pulled into a parking spot and ate an entire ice cream sundae by myself while listening to NPR (like the good elderly millennial I am). And you know what I don’t have? Mom guilt. Do I do this every day? No. Do I even think this is self care? Nope. But sometimes a tired Mama of four wants to sit and eat ice cream and not share and I say that’s okay. Better than okay. I say it’s awesome. So guess what? There aren’t any apples in the house and I just made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on hot dog buns for tomorrows lunch but I ate Dairy Queen today in a quiet car. Bahahahaha! I win!
When your frustration level is at it’s height sometimes you have to look for a little win. Maybe your win is silent Dairy Queen. For me, most times it’s a long run with my music loud. It may look like a cup of hot coffee for you or just a quick moment with the windows down in the car. Whatever it is, seize it. We are better moms when we take a deep breath and steal a quick win. May your Wednesday include a win!
If you are ever wanting a chaotic and expensive environment in which to question all your abilities to raise reasonable, gracious and well rounded children, take them to Build A Bear. While away at a wedding during our daughter’s birthday weekend, we gave her the option between going to “build” a bear and going to a trampoline park. As the words escaped my mouth, I thought, “Please Sweet Baby Jesus! Let her choose trampoline park. We have wiggles and we need them to exit our bodies!” Apparently, God knew I needed fuel for my blogging comeback so into the work shop we went. After, clarifying multiple times that we were just there for bears and that the birthday girl could get one outfit for her bear we selected our “on sale” skins. Can we just pause for a moment and let that sink it. Skins. Just wow.
We then waited in line to stuff our skins and kiss a small stuffed heart and place in our bears back before it got stitched closed. This was the beginning of our disappointment because this mama and daddy where not paying extra for the heart to actually beat. Serious, that is an upgrade option. The entire time in line, they asked about accessories for their new friends. “But Mama! My bear needs a light saber.” At one point my Benjamin said, “But Mama, they are naked. We can’t have naked bears. It’s inappropriate.” Vocabulary in 7 year olds is fun. We were firm. No accessories just bears. After the bear technicians finished stitching up the new stuffed animals, we headed to wash our bears, name them, create birth certificates and pay. All the while, we were hammered by requests for extra stuff, followed by whining, followed by more requests, followed by how unfair it was that Abigail got an outfit. How this was the worst day ever. How their lives were over.
As we checked out and paid an obscene amount of money for our children to have stuffed animals they were now totally disappointed by, I couldn’t help but think three things. One. We could have been at a trampoline park. Two. My least irritating child right now is the speech delayed 2 year old because he can’t properly formulate his possible disappointment. Three. We are so intentional in making them aware of how fortunate they are for things like safe housing, food on the table, healthy and safe parents. We are foster parents for goodness sake. They know they have it pretty good. And yet, here we are leaving Build A Bear crying because our bear doesn’t have a Bat Mobile. I just can’t.
When we got back to our hotel, we had a long talk about gratitude for the things we have the things we get to do. We talked about how the way they respond when they are given things and experiences affected those that were being generous to them. We had a come to Jesus meeting on the 6th floor of the Embassy Suites. Will it sink in? Who knows. Will we have the same conversation over and over. Definitely. Parenting is hard friends. Parenting kids who will grow up to not be jerks means having the come to Jesus meetings over and over again until it sinks in. We don’t have this lesson down yet but we aren’t quitters. It’s too important. There is a thin line between entitled and confident. Sometimes it is as thin as a thread that closes the back of a bear skin.