Spinning Yellow

Me? Radical?

As the flight to San Francisco landed I heard a woman behind me talking about attending the BlogHer conference.  I thought I recognized someone in Newark before we took off, but I wasn't sure.  Going to BlogHer is like some kind of weird reunion where everyone looks familiar.  Did I meet this person last year?  Do I know them from a photo on their blog?  Or maybe I recognize them from real life and OMG now what do I do?  If I say hi will I be outing myself as a blogger?  Wait, I am at a blogging conference, obviously I am a blogger.  What the hell am I doing here anyway?

The decision to attend this year's BlogHer conference was very difficult to make.  Not that I am that great with decisions anyway, but I really stressed out about how much it cost to fly there, pay for the hotel and the conference fee.  Last year, I felt justified in being there because I had won the contest.  I also felt an obligation to WhyMommy to get the most out of it since she couldn't come.  This year, I initially didn't think it was going to work out.  Matt's Iron Man Lake Placid race was taking place on the same weekend.  But as the months wore on and it became clear that he wasn't going to race (too busy with work to train), I started harassing Matt hinting that I'd like to go to San Francisco.

Finally, Matt said I should go because it was what I really wanted and I could consider it my birthday gift.  I immediately felt so guilty I was sick to my stomach and couldn't sleep.  If I went, I'd feel extravagant.  As if I was wasting his hard earned money.  I don't contribute any money to our family income.  **edited to explain that Matt does not consider his income, "his" money, it is ours.  He does not tell me what I can and cannot spend money on.  We just so happen to not have a lot of money right now, for many reasons.  What I wrote reflects my guilt about not contributing, which I think is a fairly common feeling for SAHMs, especially those that used to make a decent living.  Regardless of how much money we have available, I still have trouble spending it on anything besides house and kid stuff.  That is all.

I am an inconsistent and not very good blogger anyway.  But I followed through, made my reservations.  I don't spend much money in general so I justified this big splurge as an adventure.  There was also a nagging feeling that if I didn't go, I'd be severely disappointed.  Missing out on one of those  life altering opportunities.

The first panel that I sat in on at the conference was MommyBlogging: Is MommyBlogging Still a Radical Act?  When I first saw that Mommy Blogging had its own track, I was excited to hear more about the issues that were touched upon in 2007.  I knew the regular, high profile, MommyBloggers would be there to chime in.  I generally agree with Her Bad Mother and Mom 101 and certainly enjoyed hearing them speak last year. 

As I listened to the discussion I wondered, well, what do I really think?  Is Mommy Blogging a radical act?  Last year I had expected the majority of bloggers to be Political Bloggers, but found out that a good percentage of attendees were actually writing about parenting.  This year the sponsors included Sprout and LeapFrog.  Mommy Bloggers had taken over.  How can the majority be radical?

When I hear people say that they never knew being a mom would be so hard.  That it would suck a lot of the time.  I shake my head.  Were they not listening?  Didn't they have any honest friends or relatives?  I knew plenty about the dark side of parenting by the time Scott was born.  But if new moms were really that clueless, or in denial, than I am glad they have the internet to inform them.

This "lifting the veil" of the ugly side of motherhood, does not seem radical to me.  There are books out there that expose how difficult it can be.

But I do think blogging itself is radical.  Regardless of the topic.  Because blogging is, in its purest form, about capturing the moment.  The immediacy.  About being able to find a post that speaks directly to you at the time you are experiencing something.  And about connecting with the author.  Sharing your story and offering support.  A place for anybody to write about anything.

Especially blogging for someone like me.  I am not a writer.  I have no training as such, having avoided all writing courses in the past, including typing.   But I had a story to tell.  I realized this forum was the perfect, really, only venue, where I could put myself out there and people could find me.

I quickly learned that I had just as much, if not more, to gain from reading what other people wrote.

I don't think of myself as a feminist.  I am a rules player.  I was a business major in college and have towed the line, followed the path through adulthood as expected.  I am not boring, just a regular person.  But I've always dreamed of being part of something more important.  Cutting edge.  A phenomenon that brings the regular people to the forefront.

I am still more comfortable remaining semi-anonymous here in the blogosphere.  I want to write honestly and not be constrained by knowing that people in my real life might read. 

As I was deplaning (a funny word I wanted to work in), I looked for the woman, Kristen.  She was meeting Nina, a real life friend met through blogging.   The BlogHer magic had already begun.  Here were people I didn't know at all that I felt an instant kinship with.  On the BART train we hooked up with the absolutely lovely Flutter.  At every turn there was another person, another meeting.  More on all the people in another post.

Blogging and going to BlogHer lets me mingle with other bloggers, each radical in their own way. 

I get to be the person I want to be.  The one who takes chances.

My own radical.

** If it would just stop thunderstorming here and I could get a decent night's sleep maybe I can write more about the amazing experience of BlogHer 2008.  I am still recovering from my flight back to Newark where I arrived home at 3am on Monday.

April Showers

When it rains it pours.  Or perhaps I bring it all on myself.  Whatever.

It is the last day of April.  Scott's birthday.  Saturday was Jane's birthday.  Sunday I ran a half marathon.  13.1 miles.  I am hosting two birthday parties on Friday.  One for Jane's friend's from 1 -3 pm.  High School Musical.  And another for Scott's friend's from 4:30 - 6:30 pm.  Sports in the backyard.  I am totally exhausted and frazzled and have a billion things to do and write about. 

My hell month is nearly over.  And yet I have a jammed packed weekend and a ton to do next week as well. 

But I will be back to blogging regularly soon because I miss it too much to give up.  And I miss being able to read and comment.

And I signed up to do the Marine Corp Marathon in DC in October.

Because I have lost my mind.

(but it is all good, really, very good indeed, and the May flowers are coming, all is well)

Ten Before 10

Ten separate posts I should write:

1.  This blog, Spinning Yellow, is now officially one year old.  I wrote my first post on March 25th, 2007.  Yes, it has changed my life. 

2.  I've watched Autism: The Musical twice with tears streaming down my face.  I feel completely attached to all the people in the movie, kids and parents.  I can't stop thinking about it.

3.   I get e-mails from Runner's World with helpful links.  Today's was titled: Easter Candy = Crack.  I am so there.  In fact, I am right now going to throw the rest of it out.  Chocolate is my biggest weakness, hands down.  Also, there was a tid bit about people gaining weight while training for a marathon.  wtf?  How is this possible?  Well, they explain it, but I don't even want to know because that is just too depressing.  There is no way that running your ass off shouldn't correlate to literally running your ass off.

4.  Speaking of which, I ran 10 miles last weekend.  And Matt says that if I did 10, I can do 13.  I wish I believed him. 

5.  Scott is having an anxiety attack that started with his bus breaking down and is now spiraling into him not being able to sleep and following me around the house.  He is chewing his sleeve and hmmm- ing and jumping at every sound.  I am trying to be understanding without making too much of it.  Sure, you can wish me luck with that.

6.  I am in charge of our family NCAA basketball pool, as always.  A fun tradition that Scott is way too caught up in. 

7.  I failed to attend Oprah's on-line class for her book group selection, A New Earth, for the 4th week in a row.  I love Oprah and totally dig the premise of this book, but cannot, for the life of me, understand how millions of people are actually reading it.  Have you tried to read this?  Either I'm not as smart as I thought I was or a lot of people are lying.

8.  It is almost April.  Taxes and birthdays and yard work, oh my!

9.  This time last year, Jane broke her arm, I started this blog and I started running.  Scott finished up his listening program and cut back on his OT.  It seems like more than a year has passed because so much has happened.

10.  I desperately want to go to BlogHer08 in San Francisco in July, but cannot figure out how to justify the cost. 

10 pm - I made it on time.

'night.

Welcome 2008!

I am one of those silly, all optimistic, "it's going to be a great year", kind of people.  For years I would dutifully record my New Year's resolutions.  I have many long lists of how I am going to be a better person.  I like the fresh start idea.  Out with the old, in with the new....  wait I sound like I am about to launch into the music from "Fabulous" in High School Musical 2 which we've been watching non-stop around here and even went to the Ice Show yesterday. 

I am a sucker for trying to finally do things right.

Except that I am no different from everyone else and every time I make those resolutions I inevitably break them.  Usually before I even get to February.

2007 has been an eventful year, but really, every year seems like that.  I do know that I will always remember this year as the one that I started blogging in and the year that I became a runner.  I will probably remember that this is the year that Matt left the company he started and that we almost moved.  I will most definitely recall that I agonized over having a third child, and after finally giving it a try, got pregnant and then had a miscarriage.  (I should be linking all this, but don't have the energy).

But so much else happened, also.  Much of it with the kids.  And with me and a change in perspective.

I like bringing things together, finding the meaning and seeking clarity.  But there is always so much to do!  The blogging is one example, as my friend at One March Day put it in an email:

I wish I had time daily to keep up with everyone's posts, and I wish I had time to write more myself.  The way things usually end up going is that I either take some time to post, but then I get behind on keeping up with everyone else.  Or, I spend time catching up on everyone else's blogs, but by the time I get to each one, several weeks have gone by and I've missed birthdays and traumatic events and I end up feeling like a bad friend who was not there for them.

My sentiments, exactly.  I feel that I spend a lot of time fretting about this very thing.  Along with lots of other things I feel I should be doing and aren't.

But I am sick of talking about it.  So my New Year's resolution this year is only one thing:

To refrain from discussing or apologizing about all that I should be, or wish, I was doing.

I know that is one huge resolution.  Nothing will change, really, I will still feel guilty for not cleaning the house more or for not being more organized.  For my lack of blogging or checking in with people.  What I will not do though, is focus on that which I am not doing.  I will try (it will be very hard) to simply not think that way.

Does that sound feasible?

Oh and I signed up to do the half-marathon at the end of April.  Matt will be doing the same race, probably in half the time it takes me to complete. 

I do need some concrete goals, of course.

Coming Out at the Bus Stop

** Title credit goes to Delilah at Floating in Space, who used this term when I told her the story.

Yesterday morning Scott was bouncing off the walls.  When I say this I mean it quite literally.  He actually slams his body into things, including furniture and walls.  He was jumping around, talking way too fast and not making a lot of sense, skipping from one idea to another.  At times like this, I feel like I am dealing with someone who just smoked a pack of cigarettes and drank a gallon of coffee.  His disorganization is frustrating and alarming.

On the way to catch the bus, he spotted the one boy, a Kindergartener, who comes to our stop, across the street.  When he got to the curb he jumped into the boy's arms giving him a signature, overpowering hug and immediately said, "You can't have gum in school!" 

The boy's mom looked surprised, "He doesn't have any gum.  He had some earlier.  How did you know?" 

"I smelled it,"  Scott said simply.

So the mom kind of looked at me quizzically and I told her that he has heightened senses, he can smell things others might not.  Inside my head I thought about times where we were out someplace and Scott yelled, "What's that smell?!"  Or how I can't sneak any food and then talk to him, "Where's the chocolate, mom?"  Or how I have to move the newspaper away from his side of the table because he can't eat with it near him.  He's like a dog who can sniff out anything out of the ordinary.

After the boys boarded the bus, I decided to tell her more.  I don't know why I did, but maybe it had to do a little with this.  I feel that I am usually trying desperately to make Scott's issues unnoticeable.  For him to fit in with everyone, even if we see things others don't.  But then there are times when I want people to understand where he is coming from.

I think it was significant that Scott noticed the boy's gum breath given his crazy state.  When he is in hyper mode like that, he does seem to be distracted by every little thing.  I explained a bit about Scott's history, about SPD, about the OT that he has received.  I knew I would get the response that I did.  A mixture of interest (I've never heard of that) and also disbelief (aren't all kids like that?  he seems fine to me). 

But I felt better saying something.  Even if it looks like I am making excuses or inventing a disorder.  I want to raise awareness.  Maybe this mom-at-the-bus-stop will see Scott a little bit differently, for good or for bad.  Or maybe she'll realize something she never knew about another child.  Maybe a niece or nephew or a friend of her son's.

Maybe it will simply be one more person who hears about SPD.  And if that is all, it is enough for me.

********************************************************

I am sorry I have been so out of touch lately.  Instead of giving all the usual excuses, you know, busy with the holidays, catching up after NaBloPoMo, husband out of town, sick kids, blah, blah, blah, I really just want to say there are two main reasons why I haven't been able to keep up:

The first is guilt.  I feel guilty for blogging.  I have so many things I should be doing that when I blog I feel self-indulgent.  It is a hobby, a creative outlet.  It is not monetarily expensive (like my husband's triathlon hobby), but it takes up a lot of time.  And time is precious right now.  I see my children growing up over-night.  And I am behind in so many things around my house, it is upsetting.

I also feel guilty not blogging.  I am so very grateful and appreciative of the support and friendship I've found here in the blogosphere.  If I don't get to read and comment and post regularly I feel like I am letting you all down, including myself.  Not keeping up my side of the relationship.  This makes me feel even more guilty.

Guilt if I do.  Guilt if I don't.

I am not sure how to reconcile those two things.

Second, I was trying desperately to finish reading my book for my Monday night book club meeting.  I hate attending book club without reading the book, even if it is not one I wanted to read.  This time, someone else had picked a book I'd tried to get selected several times, so I was not going to skip it.  And I am so happy to report that I not only finished in time, but I thoroughly enjoyed the book, Mrs. Kimble by Jennifer Haigh.

The story and characters were engaging, but what I liked most of all was the style in which she wrote.  It is a strong voice, clean sentences, no extra verbiage, but also plenty of emotion and description.  I marked several pages where I found particularly well-crafted sentences.  She explains her style in this interview, saying that:

The narrative voice of Mrs. Kimble is very much my voice; I think it comes through in all my work. I aim for precision in the sentences because that's the sort of writing I admire. I have a great respect for writers who are humble, whose language allows the reader to see the story but doesn't get in the way. Language is a window, and if the window is clean, you shouldn't be aware you're looking through glass.

My friend (hi dee!) knows the author from their small Pennsylvania town and had suggested the book awhile ago.  I was a little skeptical, thinking, who is this person who calls themselves an author, who grew up in small-town PA?  I was pleasantly mistaken.  How dare I be so judgmental just because someone knows this person?

This was a great read.  It reminded me of John Irving's, A Widow for One Year and I love John Irving (A Prayer for Owen Meany is on my top 10 books of all time list).  I highly recommend it.

Now I will publish this and hopefully start catching up on all the fabulous posts that I've missed this past week or so.

Debrief

Thank-you.  Thank-you.  Thank-you.  A million thank yous for listening, commenting, e-mailing.  For your support and encouragement.  For getting it.

Writing and now re-visiting and posting that story has been a cathartic experience for me.  While I do hope that it helps people, it has also been an enormous deal for me.  Blogging is the perfect venue for me.  I get to post what I want to talk about and people can choose to read or not.  I already had a person search on "Sensory Processing Disorder constipation" yesterday and find my story here (oh, the things we are proud of).  But more than that, I get this sense of community, these friends that I know in real life and those that I only know as internet buddies.  And it is all good.

So while I was posting that saga, a whole bunch of things happened in the here and now.  I will give you more updates tomorrow, first I have to tell you the most significant things:

It is now day 10 of NaBloPoMo.  My tenth post in as many days.  I made it one third of the way through the month!  Yea!

Writing that story reminded Matt and I of many little incidents along the way.  Like the first school friend birthday party that Scott went to at a rock gym when he was 3 and a half.  He was terrified of climbing the wall and he was uncomfortable, as he often became later in the day, because he had to go to the bathroom (sometimes he'd even ask to go to bed early knowing that once he was asleep his misery would end).  We left the party before cake was served and had to make an excuse that he didn't feel well.  I was embarrassed that the birthday boy's parents had paid for Scott to participate when he didn't at all.  And Scott sobbed the whole way home knowing that he missed the cake and fearing that his friends would find out about his problem.  Good times.

Another stand out moment was when a friend of mine, in response to my telling a group of moms from the neighborhood about Scott's problem, remarked, "Well I wouldn't be able to take that if it was my kid!"

I stared at her and said, "We don't have a choice.  Would you kick your kid out if this was their problem?"

It took me a long time to feel comfortable around her again. 

Anyway, the other thing that has happened is that reading your comments and thinking about the story have helped keep my mind off the fact that I am having a miscarriage.

While I knew this was an inevitable outcome of the news from last week, I guess I chose not to think about how it would all go down.  I know that it is incredibly common, in fact almost all of my friends have had at least one failed pregnancy.  But in case you are not familiar (or have blocked it out of your memory as I am thinking I might), let's just say that having a miscarriage sucks.  I have felt like crap all week, headaches and exhausted from the drop in hormones.  And now, well, without going into too much detail, it is a crampy, bloody, scary mess with no sweet infant at the end to look forward to.  I've been ill all day and wondering whether it will get worse before it gets better and I will end up in the hospital. 

And I have stuff to do!  Dammit!

I am sick of feeling lousy.  I am looking forward to running again.  To drinking wine.  To staying up past 10 pm.  To getting something done.

Now I will publish post number 10, kiss my sleeping kids and go to bed knowing that tomorrow will be a better day.

Well, I might go read your comments again, just to make myself feel a little better first.

It's a Brand New Day

I was going to title this:  No Heartbeat.  But I didn't want to make everyone immediately feel sorry for me.  That is NOT how I feel.  It is true, however, that the tiny baby in my belly does not have a heartbeat.  This was confirmed this morning at my 8.5 week ultrasound.  I say "confirmed" because I knew this was the case.  What I haven't been writing about here is that although I was tired and I had some general pregnancy symptoms, I was not sick.  And I just knew that this wasn't right.

When I was pregnant with Scott I was so ill by week 6 that I could barely get around.  Same thing with Jane.  And then this time, well, some funky appetite stuff, and initially I felt pretty awful, but then it stopped.  I never felt nauseous like I had in the past.

When I went in today, I told the ultrasound technician that I was concerned so she right away told me that the sack and embryo were there but that the fetus wasn't big enough for its age.  Then she searched and looked closer and tried to find a heartbeat, to no avail.

I am sad.

But I am not devastated.

In the waiting room there were very pregnant women, waiting for one test or another.  I could feel their anxiety.  I remembered coming to this same prenatal testing site every other day toward the end of my pregnancy with Scott.  The stress was unbelievable.  I absolutely hate being pregnant.  Not only because I feel like crap, but because there are so many unknowns, so many things you have no control over.

So I looked at those ladies and I reminded myself that I have two wonderful children already.  A boy who has stolen my heart and a girl who has reminded me how joyful life can be.

And I felt lucky.  So very fortunate for what I have.

Matt is on a train to Connecticut, hoping to find a job that will not require us to move.  His last day of work at his own company was yesterday.  He feels a little lost without a job.

I think we are finding our way, though.  Right back to where we were all along.

And in the spirit of moving forward, I am accepting the National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) challenge.  I know!  Me, who can barely post once a week is committing to posting every. day. this month.

Goals are good, though, so check back here daily.  I will be putting out some things I've been afraid to post.  Stuff I've already written and things I've been meaning to do.  By the end of the month you will be so sick of reading cute stories about my kids and about what I think about everything that you will probably never want to come back here again.

But I hope you do because I am grateful for your friendship.  This is what will help me.  The writing.  The community.  Like a ball rolling down hill, I will be gaining strength with each post.  If you have any ideas or suggestions for what to write about, tell me here or e-mail me.

Thanks for helping me and coming along.

I really am OK.  I promise.  I would never lie here.

The Meaning Of Things

I've been a little MIA.  Not just with writing here but also with reading and commenting on other people's blogs.  You've heard all my excuses before and now is probably no different, really.  But I hate not being able to write more in general.  I am way behind, owing posts not only to myself but to other bloggers who were kind enough to tag me for a meme or ask me questions.  I need to become a more disciplined blogger.  To carve out time daily to devote to writing. 

This is a new goal for me.  But as soon as I say that, I find myself hedging.  OK, I'll start next week I think, after I am done with this scheduling quirk that has me hosting a playgroup, card club and book group all this month.  Or maybe after I feel less tired, once I hit a stride in the second trimester.  Like a dieter who keeps promising to start on Monday right after the weekend partying.

Why do I do this?  Why am I such a procrastinator?  I love blogging.  If you enjoy something then it should be easy to find time for it, right.  Nope.  Not that simple.  There is the guilt that I am spending time on a hobby, one that either replaces a proper job that I should have to contribute to our family income.  Or takes time away from my primary duties of parenting and keeping the house in order. 

The big problem is that I have too many ideas and they are too large.  I always want to tackle the deep questions and complicated posts so that I can never just finish one thing.  This has been a serious character flaw of mine for as long as I can remember.  I have to actively fight against it. 

So here I am.

When things happen in life we often hear the axiom:  Things happen for a reason.  This has a religious connotation as if a creator is over our heads orchestrating our lives.  A puppeteer deciding each person's fate.  Even when I went through my religious phase as a teenager, I always had a problem with this idea.  Why would a supreme being make a child ill with cancer?  Or cause one baseball team to beat another?  It never made sense.

As I have grown older and abandoned most religious notions, I still ponder this question.  Recently I have come to realize that what I believe is not that there is a reason for why things happen, but that instead, you can find reasons and meanings in things that happen.

I think I first became aware of this way of thinking when I read The Road Less Traveled back in my early 20's.  I was quite taken by this book.  The theory that we create our own destiny, that life is hard and must be lived in a very self-aware way in order to truly live fully.  I think back to this book when I hear Oprah say that you should have a purpose driven life.  That there are no coincidences.  Only decisions.

I believe this wholeheartedly.  This piece of The Secret.  That if you are aware and listening, you will find amazing connections and meaning in what you come across.  Maybe this sounds a little too new age-y.  But it works for me.  It is my version of religion.  This kind of spiritual connectedness that drives you to certain people and events and decisions.  If you want something or to become something different, be mindful of your choices and the influences in your life.

Today I finished our current book group selection, Name All the Animals.  This is a book I stumbled across a while ago and had suggested a few times before it was eventually chosen.  I wasn't sure if it would be any good, but I found myself absorbed in the story of the younger sister who's only sibling, her eighteen year old brother, had died suddenly in a horrific car accident.

I keep thinking about siblings and how they impact each other.  I wrote about this before when I was trying to come to a decision about whether to have another child.  Interestingly, the cover story of this week's Time Magazine is about birth order.  How the oldest siblings tend to be the most successful and the youngest are more risky and innovative.

I find this kind of thing fascinating.  I am drawn to family dynamics, psychology and sociology.

But aside from that, I can't help but notice how I was reading this powerful book at the same time that I came across the article and also heard on a podcast more about the study that says older boys are smarter than their later born siblings.

I find meaning and significance in everything.  I want to tie together ideas and things I've read and current events.  Almost everything I take in, I can then connect to something else and I start forming the flow of the words in my head.  Weaving it all together, fitting the pieces in place.

So this, in and of itself, also has meaning.  That I am supposed to do this.  To write.  To share my crazy, interconnected thoughts.  To attempt to make sense of all the seemingly disjointed things.  Maybe it isn't always timely or pretty, but it is full and complex.

And you are all meant to read it and contribute and make it even more interesting and relevant.

It's All Coming Together

Or falling apart.

Depends on how you look at it.

Because, of course, we all create our own reality.  Make our own choices.  For good or for bad.  But who's good and who's bad?  What might be right for one is not for another. 

You know what I'm saying?

For a year and a half now, I have been struggling with the decision as to whether or not we should have another baby.  I have agonized.  I have nagged Matt. I have stared at people with 2 older children and a baby.  I looked at Jane and thought, are you a middle child instead of the baby?  I have analyzed Matt and I as parents asking, are we 2 kid people or 3?  I have tried to ignore it.  I have tried to move on and start new ventures.  To blog.  To run. 

And yet.  It was there.  Why?  I still have no idea, really.  But, in retrospect, I can't believe how much of my time and energy has gone into this decision.  Not that it should be taken lightly.  But that I didn't realize sooner that the very fact that I couldn't get past it was my answer screaming right back at me.  None of the above questions provided any clarity, it was just that crazy, unexplainable feeling you get sometimes.  That often doesn't even make any sense.

So here we are.

This past week has been a blur of feeling equal amounts of calm and panic.

Calm that I felt the deed was done, so to speak, and now I could move on.  Get ready.  Not have to think about it anymore.

Panic that I felt so crappy already and how in the world was I ever going to make it to June feeling like this.

Calm that I think the splitting headaches were really from caffeine withdrawal instead of some horrific 8 month long saga I was going to endure.

Panic that I am so short tempered that I will be the miserable mother I feared I might become because of this.

Calm that I will not be like the pregnant woman I saw at the doctor's office today with the 4 & 2 year old, who was dealing so poorly with her children, knowing that my kids will be in school when I visit the doctor (and that they are older).

Panic that Matt will have a nervous breakdown.

Calm that I will get to experience this all one last time and close each door as it finishes without holding it ajar for a possible future.  This includes the ability to get my tubes tied right after the baby is born!

Panic that the date for Jane's dance recital is one week prior to my due date and I will most likely miss it.  This led to the reality sinking in about not being able to go to all my kids' things and the sadness I felt when Jane was born and I missed Scott.

Calm that I can, finally, justify keeping all these boxes of kids clothes.

Panic that my mom will freak out.

Calm that Matt has had some very promising interviews and will, hopefully, be able to find a good job before the money runs out from his company.

Panic that the best job, so far, will require us to move.

To Boston.

Did I just say that?  Yep.  Move.  From here.  Where my mom lives down the street. 

Except that, maybe even this, is a good thing.  Maybe it is all part of it.  A fresh start.  A new beginning.  Change is good, right? 

Of all the places we could move, Boston is one of the few that consistently comes up.  I think we would like it there.  But, um, to get from here to there?  And the difference in how we live now.  Oh.  My.

For now I am trying (not very successfully) to keep myself from looking up towns near Boston.  Hey, in Walpole, Scott could take Dodgeball after school.  And in Milton, the lunch menu has nutrition information on it.

Last week was strange, too, what with this crazy hot weather and my caffeine withdrawal induced haze.  I finally emerged on Monday morning and got it together.  I hosted a playgroup, cleaned up the basement, started the big closet overhaul.

So, before it gets to be way too long since my last post (this may be the longest space yet between posts), I want to say thank-you to everyone for their supportive comments.  This includes the e-mails from people who do not like to comment (my brother, my cousin).  From people with 1 child to those with several already.  To some where they have had no trouble building the family they wanted to some who have had to make difficult choices or come to grips with things not being the way they would like.

It is an odd combination of things you can control and those you can't, this life.  We keep on doing the best we can.  Making the choices we think are right for us.  Good or bad. (I feel I should launch into, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, ....)

One more thing before I hit publish:

I am thrilled to introduce my first troll commenter, Rachel.  I would link in her e-mail, but, alas she did not leave one.  Ironically, she lives near Swapscott, MA, which, you guessed it, is north of Boston.  She did find the time to read my blog (for awhile) which makes me happy because it drove up my stats.  I feel I have arrived in the blogging world.  Someone I do not know spent time reading this little 'ol blog.  And, AND, she felt so compelled by what she read, at 12:30 am, that she left a comment.

So I would like to address what she said in the unlikely event that she comes back (please come back, Rachel, the more the merrier):

Rachel:  Are you nuts?

Spinning Yellow:  Yes, I am.

Rachel:  Your entire blog suggests that you are riddled with anxiety.

Spinning Yellow:  My entire blog?  I see you read some of it, but I am not quite sure you read all of it.  Yeah, there's plenty of anxiety here, you aren't going to get an argument on that.  The majority of anxiety about having another baby was surrounding the decision.  Anyway, a blog is what it is.  A diary.  Therapy.  I am not always what I appear to be here, because this is only what I choose to write about.  Have you seen some other blogs?  There's a pretty hefty amount of angst going on out there.

Rachel:  The logical trajectory is that you will have more of the same.

Spinning Yellow:  Reality bites.  I am what I am.  You must be anxiety free?

Rachel:  And to what end?

Spinning Yellow:  I guess another kid. 

Rachel:  And you expect what, exactly? Sorry, I just can't get all mushy about it.

Spinning Yellow:  Did I ask for something?  I am not really a mushy person, so, no, I don't want that.  No one forced you to read or expected anything from you.  Jeez, you'd think I told YOU to have another kid.

Rachel:  More isn't better.

Spinning Winning:  I couldn't agree more.  Because if there are twins growing in there, you'll really see high anxiety!

Lest You Think I Forgot to Post Anything

I haven't.  And, it isn't that I don't have anything to write about.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  The posts are piling up inside my head constantly.  About Scott and school; about women learning their own potential; Jane starting school; my responses to things I've read on autism, breastfeeding, and so much more; intensity; Scott and soccer; missing puzzle pieces; Jane's cute antics; talks with friends; running; finding purpose and meaning in life; blogging; and on and on.  That internal blogalogue never stops.  It keeps me up at night and calls to me.  Telling me I will forget this great idea.  Luring me to leave my other tasks to write and edit.

But.  One of my problems with blogging is the "can't keep a secret" issue I have.  When I was in grade school I once spilled the beans to a friend that her parents were having a surprise party for her.  I avoid people when I am trying to hide something because I am so afraid of being the spoiler.  I've done this when I've known about parties and also when I've had news to share.

Like when I've been pregnant.

No, I do not have any confirmation on that.  But, I feel like I wrote this last post and put it out there and then I couldn't take it back.  What was I thinking?

So, I've been laying low.  Well, also there have been a few other things going on.

Today I ran a 10K (6.2 mile) race.

I've been attending running class since I started the Learn to Run program back in March.  I ran the 5K and was happy that I did it, that I could legitimately call myself a runner.  And I decided to take the next step and train for the 10K.  I haven't written anything about the class.  Once again, not for lack of great stories and insights, but just because I can't find the time to write enough.

Oh, and I think I was afraid to put myself out there.  The pressure of it.  What if I decided that I didn't want to do it anymore?  Or I just wanted to keep it under the radar.  Not have people asking me and commenting and wishing me luck.  I didn't want to disappoint anyone, especially myself.

But it went well.  Despite the fact that I didn't stick with the program at the end and really slacked off.  Even though I was oh so tired.  And I am thrilled that I did it.  In a little over an hour.  Respectable.  It felt much better than the 5K.  And once again, I could go on and on, but am lacking the time and energy.

The first week of school, I was sick.  The second week, I had 2 Back to School Nights and a separate orientation for Jane.  Then while I was trying to get organized last week, I had the practice run for the race, card night and book group (where I once again didn't read the book). 

I hate, hate, hate feeling overwhelmed.  I have closets to sort, bills to organize, clothes to swap out, an office to straighten up, cleaning to do, birthdays coming up.  My father had an operation and my mother has been busy driving him around, oh and she passed out in the hospital with him because she is so stressed out and their friend died, who just so happens to have lived across the street from me.  I need to do something for these people and catch up on all the blogs.  And there is so much writing to do it is filling me up inside and I think I might burst.

For now, I will get some sleep (did I mention I am unusually tired?) and try to start my week by waking  up early and getting some things done.  Maybe I'll even post something worthwhile.

At least I can rest easily now that the race is over and I don't have to feel guilty about hiding that anymore.

I am surprised I was able to keep my mouth shut about it given my track record.