Cocoon of Chaos

Promise of a Coffee Break

I'm not going to lie, the days are hard for me as of late. Not sure if it is this never ending snow, the lack of sunlight, stress, grief, or all of them combined but at about 3 pm, a grave grayness washes over me. I've tried everything, Vitamin D, exercise, water, stepping outside, you name it, but this inevitable down approaches every single day. One day I was perusing Instagram and saw someone post a picture of a book and a cup of coffee, caption reading, "Just need a damn coffee break". This then sparked an idea for me: every day for a week, I gave myself a little 15 minute tea break (I don't drink coffee) to sit down, read, and enjoy a cuppa. Let me tell you, it works. Just pausing, even in the madness of the day, and letting myself relax for 15 minutes makes all the difference. It's only 15 minutes and let me tell you, rather than dread 3 pm, I now look forward to it. 

Surviving Multiple Snow Days

So, we are now on our sixth snow day and I've come out alive. Thought I'd share how I survived:

1. Don't try to do anything. When I get that call, my immediate reaction is to start planning some house projects, like cleaning closets or finally filing the bills that I've been staring at for months. And then, just when I sit down to do this said chore, reality hits: everyone is fighting, everyone is bored, everyone just wants to watch one more show. Naturally. I've learned having zero plans means zero expectations thus zero let down.

2. Pinterest. Gather some ideas, nothing elaborate. Simple, fun activities that are not overwhelming and are realistic. If your kids are old enough, have them look up some activities, but for the love of crafty gods and your patience, give them some parameters or you will be bedazzling their shoelaces.

3. Embrace the liquid lunch. Of course, don't overdo it, but indulge in a bloody mary with lunch or a glass of bubbly with your leftover grilled cheese crusts. Embrace your inner Betty or Don Draper.

4. Kick 'em out! Assuming it is safe, kick those little monsters outside. Just give yourself three hours for the tantrums and hassle of dressing them in their snow gear. 

5. Indulge in something, preferably with chocolate. I'm quite certain my kids will remember snow days filled with hot cocoa and amazement at how many chocolate chip cookies their mother can put down. 

6.Put on some music and let go. Dance your stir crazy away, maybe after your liquid lunch?! Let go of your expectations and enjoy the few moments in life when you are all stuck inside together. Have a movie marathon (a.k.a Mum's cat nap time), stay in your pajamas, and drink hot cocoa. 

Yes, winter blows. Yes, I'm an optimist. Yes, I nearly lost my mind yesterday when I felt like a short order cook, maid, personal snow suit dresser, and snow shoveler, but at the end of the day when my shoulders and legs ached, my heart was full. In all seasons of our life, this one is when we needed these snow days to hunker down together. Now, pass me that bubbly because today I'm home AGAIN with a snotty monster.

Bathing in the Pink Light

Last night's sunset was breathtaking, this grainy picture from my phone does it absolutely no justice. I stepped outside in the quiet of the afternoon, the neighborhood kids reveling in the unseasonably warm weather in the distance, echoes of little boy's voices carried on the wings of the wind. For a second, time froze, and the pink seemed to fill the entire sky in an instant. I let the pink seep in, and with it came a memory...

A few summers ago, in the Outer Banks, after taking so many photos, I looked up from the sand to see my brother standing at the top of the stairs against the backdrop of a descending sun. My camera battery was nearly dead, but I desperately wanted to capture him against that sky, bathed in the rosy hue of the sunset, by himself, in the moment. Although that moment was two summers ago, yesterday standing in my driveway, I closed my eyes and savored this photo, this second of time in a different locale and a different place, but the memory brought him back. 

Thanksgiving is a day away and my heart is heavy. I miss this boy so much but more than anything, I'm so grateful I had him for 16 years. Yes, it was too short, but dammit, I'm so grateful for what he gave me. His love, his life, his entire being is pushing me through this right now. It is my rosy light in the winter sky. 

 Tears just would not stop yesterday. Oliver asked if I was hurt and I told him kind of, my heart was just hurting a bit because I missed Andrew so much. He cocked his head and said, "Like it has a crack or something?" I smiled and said yes, exactly like a crack. His tiny arms wrapped around my neck, his embrace the glue putting it back together.

Bea asked the other day if our family will ever be the same again. I had to be honest and tell her no, no it won't. Like my old monkey mug, there will always be a little crack in us, but that sliver of brokenness is what binds us together. 

 "There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." -Leonard Cohen

 

 

You are Here

Fate or desire, whatever you may call it, brought me to J.Crew the other day. I was browsing the clearance racks and this sweater was bundled up on the floor. I'm not sure if it was the years of retail I worked or my OCD, but I grabbed it and put it back on the hanger. It was not until I put this back amongst it's cashmere counterparts that I realized what it said. I stared at it for a good minute and decided, no matter what it cost, it belonged in my closet. Simply because, I am here.

Navigating life without a huge part of it is tough, murky, and so very difficult. There are days that are stagnant. Time seems to freeze, caught in a memory, a thought, an intense desire for one more moment. Just one more. But that one more moment will never be enough, ever, because on the other side of that moment is reality. The reality of this life without my little brother, my little protege, everything I ever imagined in one person. I know it sounds dramatic, but really, he was just that. He was freaking amazing.

But all this longing gets nowhere. Its just more tears, more anger, more emptiness. It sounds silly, but I'm hanging on to little gifts that come way, like this cashmere sweater at J.Crew to remind me that I am here. I AM HERE! It is up to me to live, to carry on, to continue to love, and some days, to cry. I've said it before but I'm not alone in this grief. I told the mister the other night that I feel like our family is under this tent of sadness. We're afraid to leave it because in some strange way, we lose Andrew. But, how silly, right?! Now, more than ever, we must step out of that tent and live. We are here. We are forever changed by this, no doubt about it. At dinner the other night, the kids were a mess and we all decided that we will forever carry a dark spot in our heart, but it is very small. That dark spot is a stamp of how much we loved Andrew, but how we move on and choose to live life as we want to is a greater mark than that stamp. It is a constant reverie to his life. We are here. We have each other. We will make it. I know this for sure. I know my kids will never be the same but I also know Andrew's life was a brighter beacon than his death. I know they, too, will find what they need, even if it is on the floor of J.Crew.

Digging Our Married Selves Out of a Rut

For Devin and I, the past three weeks have been all about survival, doing what we could during the day to keep things as "normal" as possible while managing the kids' grief and life in general. Our nights, well, our nights have been awful. Most nights we start by talking about our worries, concerns, and plans on how to do life without my brother, especially in regards to the kids. A few nights have been filled with tears, shouts, and guttural groans on how much this sucks, as both parents and individuals. To be honest, we've fallen into this pit of grief. We have slept in our bed one night out of the past 2o something because it is just easier to fall asleep to the mind numbing television than read and try to fall asleep in our bed. Sleep does not come easy and it is restless. However, we both know this pattern is not going to help anything, it is just making things worse and we like each other a whole lot, so we know we have to do something. 

To start, Devin is taking one day a week off so we can spend time together, sans the children. We need to reconnect, rehash, and release what is eating a hole in our hearts. We don't know how this will go, we do know it will be hard, but I'm not sure anything has ever really been easy in the 18 years we've been together. I dote a lot about my husband, I know this, but I would not be half the person I am without him. We found each other when we were so young and so different, but one thing we shared in common was the desire to be the best we could be and live life fully, no matter how hard or how scary that would be. I never imagined we would be living this nightmare right now, nor did I expect us to be so divided by our grief. We are complete opposites, me needing to retreat into myself, my husband the opposite and it can be tricky. We've committed to this struggle but it will not ruin us. We will slowly dig ourselves out of this, one pebble at a time.

 

Taste for Freedom

Over the summer, Bea attended a free park camp program that our seaside city offers within a short walk from our house. The first week, I was home doing chores while the other two were playing and my newly turned 10 year old came walking down the driveway by herself. I will be honest in saying that it was not a stellar moment as a mother, because my friends, I freaked out. I freaked out because she walked by herself. In the end of my irrational worrying, which to be frank, pissed Bea off, I realized I was doing more damage than good. I could not understand why she was so mad until she said, "Mum, I'm 10. I'm fine. Trust me." Ahh...yes. She was right. She is 10 and I didn't trust her. But how on earth do I explain to her that it is not her I mistrust, but the entire world around her that makes me sick with worry...without terrifying her. As I let her walk back by herself, on my feed, an article in The Atlantic popped up about the damage we are doing to our kids by instilling so much fear into them about the world. Thank you, universe for that one. By me freaking out that she walked home by herself told her she was not capable, I did not trust her, and the world is a scary place. Yes, the latter may be true, but statistically, kidnappings have not increased since the 1980s, the media coverage, however has. We are living in this bubble of fear, unable to trust anyone, and rather than come together as a community to support and watch out for one another, we close our front doors, pull the shades and become isolated. There is no community watch, we don't know our neighbors names, and it does feel scary at times. However, in my life, I've met the most interesting people by opening my door, waving out the window, and overcoming fear to seek out community. I want my kids to do the same and they can't do that if I don't give them the freedom to do so. 

But, it is hard. It is hard to let them ride around the neighborhood on their bikes without having terrible visions of them being taken or hit by a car. It is hard to let them walk to the mailbox without thinking about some creepy stranger enticing them with candy. Oh, and the guilt; the feeling of utter shame if something did indeed happen, its maddening, my friends. But, anything can happen anywhere. It takes work and quite a bit of rescue remedy. And lots of reminding them of what is safe and not safe--to the point of eye rolls and sighs, "yes, mum, we know." There are times my worry is choking but more than anything, what stops my endless mind chatter, is the desire for them to not fear life, but fully embrace it. I can't do that behind a locked door or closed curtains. It is not my job to shelter them, it is my job to support them, even when it rips my heart out. I don't want my kids to ever feel like I doubt their judgement, their character, or their instincts. Intuition cannot develop if it is not tested. It is one of the most powerful tools we have as humans and I refer to it as the superpower of our heart to the kids. Trust your superpower. Trust my superpower that under all that worry is great pride for these 3 amazing beings I share my life with. I love them too much to let my own misgivings affect their life. They are itching for freedom, to feel the giddiness of flight on solo bike rides without their mum behind them and the wide world ahead of them. Okay, not the whole world, but the neighborhood block, but it starts, somewhere, my friends.

To Push or Not to Push

To Push or Not to Push, this is a question I struggle with as a parent. It's never easy to know when too much pushing is too much and will not result in success, but rather utter defeat for all involved. I have 2 children that are very reticent to try new things. New things are scary, unpredictable, and challenging for them. And, that is okay. However, it is not okay to hide behind fears and miss out on new experiences. But, when they are crying, shaking, and pleading, it is damn hard to push them. It takes every ounce of my being to do it, but I do it with love and compassion. 

Case in point: Oliver started his first swimming lesson without me in the water the other day. He was so excited on the way there telling me how brave he was going to be. And then, we arrived and all that changed. As soon as those Spiderman flip flops came off, he began to fidget and finally ended up a pool of tears by the ladder. The amazingly understanding teacher was wonderful in giving him the space he needed while encouraging him as well, but to no avail. He was wrapped around me like a boa around a juicy rat, no joke. Pippa bent down and told him she would sit next to him on the edge of the pool and hold his hand. (Yes, I know, she really is that awesome all of the time.) He agreed but still refused to get into that aquatic abyss. The teacher finally winked at me and I knew I had to do it. I had to pick him up, screaming and crying, and hand him over to her in the water. Friends, this was not easy. As I peeled him off of me, tiny tears began to well in my eyes because I knew how hard this was for him. It forced him to face his fears head on, and that is never easy. And, of course, I felt like the worst mother of all time, but for just a second because as soon as he hit that water, he stopped. He paddled his arms, kicked his feet, went under water and came up smiling. 

I'm writing this because this is a piece of parenting that rips my heart out. It is so very hard for me to watch my kids struggle with things that most kids do without thinking twice. It is not about comparison, but rather I love them enough to not let their fears and insecurities rule their lives. But, it is hard to know when to draw the line. When is too much pushing going to backfire? Am I awful? Should I let them just be? 

The answer to these questions I'm still working on, but I've learned I know these offspring of mine rather well and know when too much is indeed too much. I also know that me pushing them tells them that I trust them. I trust that they will meet and rise to challenges, even when they are difficult...for them and me. I love them too much to be eaten up by their fears. They deserve  more than that. I don't want them to be life's observers, I want them to live each day, participate in whatever they imagine. Because, in the end, the tears lead to smiles...on all of us.

A Weekend of Doing Nothing

This summer has been a busy one. We've visited every New England state in the matter of 6 weeks, yes, my kids are road warriors, and have not really slowed down. I must be honest and say this whole road trip challenge was a defensive mechanism. I've had a rough and unpredictable 8 months and rather than stewing in sorrow or pity, I needed to get the hell out of Dodge. So, we did, and remarkably, we all came out alive and still liking each other. 

Friday night rolled around and we had zero plans for the weekend. I headed to my writer's group Saturday morning and came home with still no plans. It stayed that way all weekend. This is a true challenge for me. I'm not good at doing nothing. I suck at it. I'm constantly thinking of what needs to be done, unfinished projects, things to do with the kids, etc. It is a wee bit maddening at times, my friends. So, like we challenged ourselves to a New England road trip, I challenged myself to do nothing all weekend. I'm happy to report, I succeeded. Saturday the laundry sat, the kids destroyed their rooms with play, and Devin and I sat on the couch, reading (me) and playing guitar (him). It was divine. Really and truly, to just sit and enjoy the silence of free time. Yes, of course I was a bit ticky and itchy at first running through the things I should have been doing, but once my nose was in that book (Rules of Civility, great read) my mind stopped. As the pages turned, my guilt for doing nothing slowly dissapated. 

Today was much of the same nothingness. We went to lunch, enjoyed a Margarita outside, and took the long, scenic way home. With full bellies upon arriving home, the kids grabbed their books, we grabbed our pillows and we all enjoyed 2 hours of quiet time. I'm telling you, utter bliss. A nap, my friends, is pure indulgence. (So is having two very responsible, lovely daughters that don't mind reading to their brother for hours!)

In this "busy" world of ours, it seems we are getting farther and farther away from just being; either being still, or in the moment, or not distracted by our phones. We are told we must always be doing something, but what I've learned this weekend is doing nothing is just as important.

Happy Sunday, my friends. This is our last full week of summer before we all head back to school and we're going to make the best of it, although we have no plans. 

Lesson Learned: Friends are a Necessity

I am, admittedly, a very shy person upon first introduction. I do not go out of my way to make new friends until I am 100% comfortable. That being said, I've learned that in order to evade insanity, a mama needs some friends. Not just people to hang out with, but people to share, to cry, to laugh, to empathize, to eat, to drink, to commiserate, and to come together without judgement. Ladies are awful to fellow ladies, this is something our culture ingrains in us early on but, I truly feel sharing the joys and the drudgery of motherhood has the potential to break these judgemental barriers. If only we let ourselves let go of expectation, judgement, and insecurity.  Who cares how other parents are feeding, diapering, or sleeping; we are all covered in food bits, wiping bottoms, and lacking sleep, no matter which method is being used. 

With the birth of each child, I was lucky enough to find supportive communities of parents. With the girls, I found a community parenting network within walking distance from our apartment in the city. They held play groups and community events in which people of all different backgrounds came together amongst a sea of loud, messy, adorable children. I met one of my dearest friends, who I can reach out to at any time, even with months of not speaking and know I am not judged, but loved for who I am. 

When I was pregnant with Oliver, I joined an on-line local mother's group through Meetup and it was one of the best decisions I ever made. I found a group of like minded parents, some of which are great harbors in the storm life can become. Again, I do not feel judged for the occasional bag of Doritos my kids devour or the choices Devin and I make as parents. 

And, as the last picture above illustrates, it is not only important for me to have friends for my survival, but it is also important to introduce my children to these lovely adults. This picture is a favorite of mine from yesterday because it shows how engaged and interested the girls were in my friend's discussion. I want the kiddos to know that the more diverse friends you have, the richer your life. 

To those women whom I treasure for your advice, your laughter, your understanding, and your encouragement, thank you so very much for enriching my life with your presence and friendship.

 

 

Asking for Help

Photo credit via Pinterest

To say the world is saddened by Robin William's death is an unneccassary understatement. I, too, am deeply moved by his untimely passing, it is always tough to see such a bright flame flicker into oblivion. However, what has left me empty and thinking all day today is the idea of help in our culture. So many of us need it, whether it be to take the kids for an hour or professional help to get through tough times. Although we all know this, there is something about us that makes it hard to ask, as if we carry a veil of shame in the need to do so. Why is that? Why are we so determined to be the best all of the time? And why does help lessen our character or weaken our strength?

My heart breaks for the depths of despair this talented man was waging through; so bad that he sought relief in death. It saddens me even more to know that so many millions of people suffer this same depression every single day and because we've been fed this malarky to "just get through it", the suffering only increases ten fold.

This is hard for me to write about, but I've struggled with depression for six years now. Upon losing the babies in 2008, I sunk into a very deep, dark hole. There were mornings that I could not get out of bed, quite literally. My body ached with sadness, my mind clouded with hurt, and it was very hard for me to fight these demons when I felt like I should just get over it. But, as anyone tells you that suffers from depression, there is no moving on, getting over it; it is more getting through it. However, it requires work and help. For me, my little family was my help. There were days I could enjoy every moment, others I could not bear another. One day, an eighteen month old Pippa, laid next me in bed, raised her head and put her finger on my face. Staring intensely at me, she said, "Sad mama." If my eighteen month old could recognize my sadness, my need for extra love, then I, too, had to do the same. I had to let myself need the help, the extra hugs, the community around me. 

Although the onset of my depression was due to grief, it is not always that way. I still struggle with it on a monthly basis; there is no predicting it, avoiding it, or ignoring it. I have to let myself just be in it and find comfort in whatever I need in the moment. This is not easy but I know in order to avoid continued  hurt, panic attacks, or deeper dips, I have to let go of unrealistic expectations and admit that I need help. That help may be an extra hug from the kids, an hour of uninterrupted reading in my room, medicine, and/or talking to a professional. 

I hope Robin Williams life will be remembered not for the struggles he lost, but rather for the laughs he delivered, the warmth his light brought into someone's darkness. I've heard so many people say to try to be more kind, recognize that we all fight internal battles, and never underestimate the power of compassion. With everything, I want to believe that people will do just that, even for a day.

"Always be more kinder than necessary." ~J.M. Barrie