Spinning Yellow

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.

The Reality of School

Today was the start of Parent Observation Week at Scott's school.  While Jane played at her good friend Annie's house, I went in to see what the hell goes on Scott does while he is at school.  I am not sure if it was particularly eye-opening, but I did gain a little bit of insight.

I arrived while the class was sitting on the rug in the back of the room doing some kind of share-something-about-your weekend activity.  I watched as the teacher called on each child who had their hand raised and listened intently to what they had to say.  She was fully engaged and interested in each child.  She asked them questions and spoke kindly to the child if they were upset about something (my soccer team lost!  I hurt my foot!).  She told the children that they did not have to share if they did not want to and also reminded them that it was perfectly fine to say, "I just hung out at my house with my family."  There was no requirement to one-up each other as kids this age tend to do.

I was happy that I arrived in time to hear Scott tell her about his weekend.  How his Aunt and Uncle from California visited with his two cousins.  The teacher said, oh that must have been special, I bet you don't get to see them a lot.  And she was absolutely right.  In fact, Scott had been crying ever since they left the night before.  He was so sad that he will not see them again for awhile.

I liked that each child was given an opportunity to share and that the kids seemed genuinely interested in listening to their peers.  I could sense that the group of children cared about each other.  This is important for Scott, who does not have many friends and often feels uncomfortable with kids his own age.

Next up was a looonng math activity.  It started with the kids sitting at their desks while the teacher told them what materials to take out (their white board, easer, markers, coins, and math box).  I'd estimate that 50% of the class was able to do this without any trouble.  The other half of the class had one issue or another to a varying degree.  They couldn't find the stuff or they couldn't arrange the necessary items on top of their desk.  The teacher reminded them that they could ask to borrow something or they could look around the room to find what they needed, but they had to be ready quickly.  I felt Scott's anxiety as the activity started and he still hadn't gotten his things in order.

It was all I could do to sit quietly in my seat and not get up and help him.

The teacher arranged a nickel and 11 pennies on an overhead projector and instructed the children to write the amount on their white boards.  Fine.  But then she had to go around the room and check each child's work, correcting as she went.  I think she is a good teacher, but as the activity went on, I felt that the pace was excruciatingly slow.  The next task was to replicate the coins that she had and then to exchange the current money for fewer coins.  The tasks were valid, but boring, and I couldn't help but wonder if the children who didn't understand were any further ahead afterward.

And it was then that the reality of school really sunk in.  I know I sort of joke about homeschooling Scott.  I have such respect and admiration for people like This Mom who do this and do it so well.  I love teaching Scott and having discussions with him about anything.  The other day we talked about the prefix "omni" and tried to come up with silly words like "omni-sports-athlete".  I know he could learn a whole lot more in the hour I was at his school if he were home and moving at a different pace.  We could also concentrate on some of the things he has trouble with, like writing, without any pressure to get it done quickly.

But where I would fail is with making him be more independent and confident in a group.

He needs to learn how to get by without me.  This is painful to realize because I feel I am sacrificing his intellectual potential for more social competence.  Am I right?  The ideal situation would be for him to attend school for 3 or 4 hours and then be able to come home or do more challenging work in a small group.  But I also wish there was a debrief of sorts about his day.  Like, if I knew about the desk problem, I could suggest he make a list of what goes on each side and in what order so that he could find the items and stay organized.  Is this too minuscule of an issue to bring up?

I started to wonder whether I should have stayed home.  I knew Scott was happy I was there, but was I?

After the math lesson came a story about the girl who was Star of the Week.  The children asked her questions and the teacher wrote up sentences on a big piece of paper behind her.   When Scott was called on, he asked a question that had already been asked.  His teacher smiled and said she got a point, making a big deal out of putting a tally mark on the board.  Apparently, this is her way of emphasizing the importance of paying attention.  Scott didn't look too bothered by it, but I felt my school issues come flooding back.  I would have hated this as a child and probably wouldn't have wanted to raise my hand for fear of messing up and letting the class down.

I had a flashback to learning times tables in fifth (I think) grade.  Our teacher would play a game called Round-the-World where two children would stand up and try to answer a flashcard with a math problem.  Whoever answered got to stay standing up and the next child would get up to challenge them.  I never stood up for more than one question.  Never.  Even if I knew the answer, I wasn't confident enough to yell it out.  When I came home in tears, my mom sat with me night after night with flashcards until I finally learned my times tables.  If she had not done this, I would have never learned them.  The teaching method in school was completely ineffective for me.

Public school has to teach to the masses.  I am sure some schools and teachers are much better than others.  A friend of mine once said, "wouldn't it be great if each child had an IEP (Individualized Education Program) and the teachers had to accommodate it."  That would be fabulous but is completely unrealistic.  You can only expect so much.

Finally, finally, the teacher said, "You've been sitting on your heinies for too long.  It's time for snack."

And with that, I said goodbye to Scott and quickly made my exit.

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!

I Told You I Couldn't Keep a Secret

Or, just call me Fertile Myrtle.

Sorry for the lame photo, you get the idea.

Because all the cool girls are doing it, too.

So, before this gets all crazy, it's not like we've told anyone, just you lucky readers.  Because I am well aware that a positive test as the one above is no guarantee that there will be a baby come June (May?) next year.  It is, of course, way too early to really get all sure about things.

But.

I will call the doctor. 

I will switch to decaf coffee (bummer).

I will try not to freak out. 

I will be happy that I only feel mildly sick since I still have another week or so for that to kick in (at which time I will be stressed if I don't feel like total crap). 

I will try to find my old stuff because I gave away a lot of my maternity clothes and pregnancy books. 

I will stay calm knowing that I already have a boy and a girl and have weathered the difficult transition from one to two.

I will eat ice cream.

I will be content knowing that we gave this a try and so far so good.

I will know that this time I am done for sure and just edging in before I turn 40.

And I will try to forget that Scott looked at me strangely this afternoon and said, "Mommy, you look different to me today."

Sometimes that kid is just plain eerie.

I wonder what this one will be like.