Thoughts on Faith

As I was driving back from DC a few weeks ago, taking Steve home before I went to an interview I asked myself, "why do I still pray?". I realized that the reason was because that for me not to believe in God would be to not exist at all. I realized that belief in God was a thread interwoven into my being, one that the entire fabric of my life would unravel without. My belief is like the load-bearing wall in a house, knock it down, and you knock me down.

I know where I would be, the day I stopped believing in God. The day I let all the issues, drama, disappointments, stress, questions, anger and sadness get to me. Institutionalized. And I'm not ready for that (I've come close).

I'm not what others would view as a "righteous woman", but I've taken that with the same grain of salt I apply to all the other labels I've been forced to wear in my life. Lately I've been shedding them all, eager to morph into the person that God intends for me to be, once this Perfect Storm ends. And when it does, I'll go outside again. I'll engage with others again. I'll try to fully live again. I'm recuperating right now. I'm busy trying to be a mother when I often feel half human. But my one comfort is that Someone sees what it often seems like so many others do not. It's hard to talk to Him sometimes, but I do appreciate His Witness.

9 months

Little Man will be 9 months old on Sunday. I can't believe that the time has flown so quickly. He's been nursing his first cold this past week, and it's been a bit difficult, what with the nasal aspiration and medication....lots of fun (yeah, right).

I think that lately I've been able to stress less and enjoy him more. My pregnancy was filled with so much fear and stress, and I grieve a little that I didn't get to just thrill in the fact that he was growing under my heart.

These days I try to laugh more, kiss his little cheeks, hands and feet more, and be more patient. We've learned that we have a "high needs" child, and that definitely explains a lot of his behaviors, as well as gives me a feeling of relief. I'm not doing something wrong, and there's nothing wrong with him. He just has higher needs than the average baby. Understanding this has helped me to be more compassionate and sensitive to his needs.

Everywhere we go, I get compliments on him. I hope I never take it for granted, though I am quite used to it now. I just smile, say "thank you" and tell him to say hi. He looks around with his wide-eyed stare and continues to focus on whatever caught his attention before he was noticed.
He's good at occupying himself when he wants to. But when he wants his parents, he wants his parents, and there is NOTHING that will deter him. Which is okay, what else do we live for right now, but for him? I think he knows it, haha.

Little Steve is close to walking on his own, he's standing on his own and can "walk" very quickly if you hold his hands. He's fully capable of holding his own bottle, but refuses to. It's kind of amusing, trying to put his hands on the bottle, and watching him just go limp because I'm holding him. Well, he'll do it when he's ready.

Mama is tired. Bed early tonight. I've been sleeping like the dead lately, and he's been sleeping like a wild thing in between us. :-)

Some Fun Pics

Here are some pictures of the past few weeks with my family:

Happy Grandma with her two Grandsons (Ethan on the left, Steven on the right).

Meeting for the first time...

The Harris Grandchildren

Ethan, Auntie Elissa, and Steven

Worn out :-)

Cousins

My son has finally met his cousin Ethan.

We've been waiting for this day.

My brother is up here for a few weeks to take part in a wedding in my sister-in-law's family. They'll be here for about two weeks. It's wonderful to see my older brother, he's by far the sibling I'm the closest to. But I must accept that with his presence comes a great deal of teasing. I get that from Steve, and when Larry was here I got that from Larry. Both of them...I just grit my teeth and half-smile. It's funny...but it's not, LOLOL

Watching Little Steve interact with his cousin has been interesting, fun, and educational. Little Steve has learned that he's not the only baby in the world, and he's not the only baby in the family. He's also been very frightened by Ethan's exuberance. Ethan is just as wild and happy as his Daddy. Steve is a bit more reserved like me. It's kind of hard though, watching him sit there and cry because he's shocked. But it's a good experience for him, because soon enough I'll be working and I need for him to be okay with Mommy going away for a while.

I'll post pictures once I can get home to my own computer (and once I can get a break). I'm enjoying myself too much right now. It's nice to get out of the house, it's nice for Little Steve to have a playmate, and it's nice to joke around with my asenine brother. :-)

Dreams

There is a graveyard in the back of my mind, which has a road leading to another one, a small one, tucked deep inside my heart.

They say a woman's mind is her own secret garden. Mine is so overgrown, I'm waiting for my own emotional Mary Lennox to come and find the key, go inside, and do some weeding and planting.

As much as I do not like the status of my life right now, I am trying hard not to give up. To give up would be to cease to live. So today, in the midst of my "to do" list, I'm going to go over the precious few dreams that I have not yet given up on.

-One day I'm gonna walk across that stage and accept my college degree. And I will graduate with honors, because I know I'm capable of doing so. Late doesn't have to turn into never.

-One day, when things calm down and I'm able to function better, I'm going to put my hands to a piano again. I'm gonna find my muse Lyricist again (Lyricist lives). I'm gonna start singing again.

-One day we'll be out of this crap a** apartment and into a real home. My little boy will grow up in a good neighborhood, and go to school with good kids. Preferably with his cousin Ethan. *New Dream* My son will have a life so different from my own, so "normal" that he will almost take it for granted. I say almost because I will raise him to appreciate what he has. But so help me, he will never taste the youth that I had to live through.

-One day soon, our proverbial hands will not be one centimeter from our mouths.

I'm trying to function. So I decided to do something that I haven't done in a while: dream.

Standing too close to the TV

I'm grateful at times for the short attention span of an 8-month-old.

Especially when it comes to watching TV.

Steve and I are very careful about what we watch when Little Man is awake, because we were watching wrestling one night, and he was sitting up so attentive. We looked at each other and went, "uh-oh...:. Baby was just too happy.

Well, most mornings I'm like an old engine trying to start on a cold morning (sputter sputter), so I'm greatful for Dora the Explorer, Handy Manny, Mickey Mouse's Clubhouse, etc. They are a lifesaver. They give me just enough time to figure out where my limbs and brain are.

Problem is, when we're in the living room, little man likes to get right up on the screen. I have to research whether or not that's harmful or not. Most likely, those pretty silver eyes will be behind glasses in time, as both his parents are blind.

But I learned to stay back from the TV when I was little. :-)

Oh, and did I mention this child likes to "update his Facebook status"? When I'm on the computer, he loves to sit on my lap and type. So I let him tell the world how he's feeling from time to time. It shows up like this: "bo;lui;pgbewriug[-9769er4lb nhjv ljebdrjuvbkwer bk"....

Whatever that means. He tends to get a lot of good responses.

Off topic, I've crossed off most of the items on my checklist today. Still ticked about the fact that I have to break it down like that, but it is what it is. Now to go, because the child is trying to unplug something again. *sigh*

"Checklist"

I've had to break it down like that.




My daily life is now such, that I have to write a list of the things I need to do each day in order to accomplish something.


I just wish it didn't have to be so hard for me.


I once told one of my old therapists that I felt like every single normal human thing took ten times the effort for me, and that I was tired of being a misfit. I still feel that way, perhaps more so now.


Good thing is, that I accomplished all but one of my goals on my checklist today. And that one was just because I called at the wrong time (doctor's appointment), and forgot to call back.


I've decided to start coming to the library each evening, for a few hours. It'll give Little Man time to adjust to someone other than me, and it'll give me time to think. The guilt I feel over my frustration and overwhelm is tremendous...and fodder for another blog. I don't know how to shake the guilt on top of all the other emotions I deal with daily.

But yes, it's gotten down to that. I am functioning on such a primitive level now, that I believe my mind no longer works right. It hurts too much to think. When I think, I think of all the ways in which I have failed. So I don't think. I just move, and try to do what I know I need to do in order to keep my house clean and take care of my son.


Still, there are things that linger on the horizon of my mind that I know I have to address.


Like this freakin bankruptcy. I give myself one month before I mail it off. I bought a calendar the other day, and I need to start putting deadlines on it. By October 9, the package has to be in the mail.


And what about school? I filled out my FAFSA last night, only to get an email today saying that the Social Security Administration has said that my information has changed. Um, how?

Why do I sometimes feel like the anti-Midas? Like everything I touch just falls apart or flies out of my reach? Dude!

I have to go hunting for my son's birth certificate. That should have been here. It's been longer than 17 weeks. Twice that amount of time, actually.

And of course, the ever looming cloud over my head: looking for a job. I also need to make a list of places that give preference to people getting public assistance, so I can find some sort of employment. Any employment short of swinging around a pole or standing on the corner will do. I can't take the sacrifices my family has to make due to my lack of work any longer.

Well...the checklist is helpful. But I do honestly feel like I'm 85 having to use it.

"Unemployed does not equal unproductive."

I try to remind myself that I'm one of the 26% of Americans who are currently out of a job. I try not to let myself grieve over what I percieve to be the choices that put me in this situation. I have a great deal to be happy about. Still, I can't help but feel that as I am I am currently more of a hinderance to the situation than a help.

In the past six months I've sent out hundreds of resumes. I've gotten only a handful of interviews. I have to remind myself that there are those who aren't getting any at all. I volley back and forth between being grateful that I can be home with my son, to being ashamed that I'm sitting at home taking up resources but not being able to replenish them, to panicking that I've somehow ruined my career.

I think about school, I think about changing careers. I think about giving up and just going on welfare until things calm down, at least I'll have a preference in some jobs, because the system would rather me be working than collecting a check. I honestly don't know what to do, other than cry.

I just hope that this situation isn't long lasting. It may not be permanent, but I sometimes feel that by not being able to work through my pregnancy, I've done permanent damage to my ability to help pay for the food I eat and clothes I wear. Especially now that I have a child.

Son of Sam

It seems appropriate that my opening post should be about my son. My older brother calls him the "Son of Sam". Of course, he's not David Berkowitz, but he is devious in his own special way.

I miss my peanut.

I miss those days when he was that small; when he practically fit in the palm of my hand, stayed where I put him, and cried only when he needed something.

Here's what life's like now:

(How the hell he managed to climb up in this thing and stand in it to SWING in it is beyond me. HE CAN'T WALK YET!!! But he sure can get up on stuff to get to things he's not supposed to be in to...)

Little Steve is so happy, extremely intelligent, HARDHEADED, stubborn, loving.....and very attached to his Mama.

I adore my son, but he honestly wears me out. I'm sure he'll be walking within the month. He learns things in clumps. You only have to hint at something for him to figure out how to do it. He's quick, one minute he's by your side, and the next he's all the way across the house. He stays under me, and my Mother's instinct keeps me from doing anything else (my "to do" list keeps growing), because I can't do anything other than focus on him when he wants me.

Changing him is a contact sport; Big Steve commented to me one day that I was breathing hard as I tried to wrestle a onesie on Little Man. Not since he was about 6 months old has he held still to have his diaper changed, or even be dressed. Lotion? Yeah, when he's asleep. Nail clipping? *laughing* I gave up on trying to brush his eight teeth. I kiss a lot of boo-boos, and at least once a day pull strands of my hair out of his hands.

But as much as he exasperates me, he also brings me joy. I watch him sleep, and I think to myself about the wonder of being a mother. The amount of love I have for this being who is both a part of me and apart from me. I can no longer imagine life without him. My days are filled with feedings, 15-minute naps (his, not mine), lots of exercise (pulling him off the walls), and worries about what he's gonna swallow next (and gratitude that so far he's puked rather than choked on the things he's managed to find). All the frustration goes away though, when he smiles at me.

Oh yeah, and when he calls me "Mama".