friendships

Some of the friends who make my life richer and more robust by their very existence live far away now - the ones I've known more than half my life and whose short, infrequent visits leave my cup full and running over.

When time and distance and life are the reason for not having time together, it's easy to think you've just lost touch, drifted away - it's nothing personal.  But when anticipation of a reunion fills you with delight, it's not a drifting away.  And when the friend gives you a hug, their words spilling out easily: "Why don't we live around the corner from each other?"  - it's then you know that you didn't imagine the invisible thread that's kept you connected in spite of rare phone calls, infrequent emails, thousands of miles.

This weekend was one of those times.

I am full, renewed, beyond words.

spectrum

I have about three possible posts circling my brain, wondering if there are enough words to go with the feelings to cause them to spill into my fingers and land on the keyboard.  I'm still not sure.  But I'll give it a try, offering each a space of time and a different posting this week....


In the last week, Little B asked me if I'd ever decided whether he was "autistic" or not.  (Some of you may recall that a couple years ago we discussed the likelihood of Asperger's with him.  It went over as well as withdrawing money from a negative bank account; a doctor retracted the suggestion of Asperger's and pushed him onward instead, leaving me mildly uncertain what to think).  So in response to this recent question, I deferred to the therapist or other doctor he sees.  Just that simple.  I also clarified that he's not autistic - but left most of what needed to be said to the professional.

Yesterday Little B asked the right person.  Who explained the spectrum, ascertained he was not on far end, and described the milder side, Asperger's.  She told him that she didn't always care to use such terms to describe people since everyone is different....I love and respect this, but I also think it's good to be able to embrace our individuality and be okay with it, label or no label. (I'm still learning to embrace my forever cluttered life - and be okay with inviting guests over whether their homes are cluttered and dusty or spotless...definite work in progress.)

She concluded by asking Little B what he thought of what she'd said.  He promptly said he believed he had Asperger's.  Her response was that while she agreed he exhibited many of the symptoms, it didn't mean it was conclusive.  He came away more accepting of having it than not, but being okay with it.  I'm relieved.

That, however, does not make it easier to live with him, or teach me how to be his mommy, or give me the compassion or balance needed at pivotal moments.  I'm still a major work in progress.

a new start

Two interviews; one offer.
Much prayer and consideration.
Peace.
One acceptance.
One resignation.

After more than fifteen years at a firm we once expected John would retire from, he is starting down a new path with a new firm.

This was hard for me - letting go of something that seemed permanently stable - but when His peace is so overwhelming, following is easier than ignoring.  Now, I'm excited and ready for all that lies ahead....

castles in the air

Last week, we finished our school year for 2011-2012.  And next week we begin again, according to my year-round rhythm of learning that keeps things sane in our house.  Fridays are still our day off, and the occasional week for holidays and having not gotten too far behind.

In the midst of filing my Declaration of Intent to homeschool again this year, I acknowledged the boringness of our school's name: "[Last name] Homeschool".  I was ready for a fresh start and a fresh outlook.  After much pondering (and encouragement from some facebook friends), I've found one that I like and a quote to go with it.  In theory, this will be printed and put in a place to remind us all that we're going the right direction....



Sandcastle Academy

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be.  Now put the foundations over them."
-Henry David Thoreau

waiting

We are waiting right now.  

Waiting for possible changes, 

and hopeful changes, 

and potentially hurtful changes.

John has spent over 15 years at the same job, loyally, diligently working from an AutoCad technician all the way up (thorugh many years of school) to Licensed Professional Engineer.

The economy has swept us into it's painful downturn but still he has had consistent work; something I remain thankful for every single pay day.

Today, he had his second interview with a new company for a new job.  They have indicated an offer will be made within a week's time.

Mostly, I am at peace and feel excitement over what may come.  But then fear of the unknown rises up like high tide in a row boat and makes me sea sick.  I find my peace replaced with the anxiety of our needs being met - as though the Lord isn't completely in control, though I know when I calm down that He is.

When I remember that a friend was recently burdened to pray regarding our situation before I told her about this possibility, I know without a doubt He is orchestrating this above any thought I have.  When I hear a different, well-meaning friend talk about the ideal pay increase and what to shoot for, I have to remind myself that ideal on earth and ideal with God are often vastly different (as are the job descriptions of our respective husbands).

I also feel a sadness that there could be some family bridges burned in taking this new path.  Bridges we both spent years trying to build.  Walking a new direction could make it all crumble, which I know we don't want.

I've prayed and cried out for the Lord to provide an opportunity such as this one.  And yet, I don't want to force His hand.  I don't want him to say, "Fine; if you want it so much, I'll allow it....but with it comes another cost."  

I truly want His will.  

I want His way to be clear.  

I want to follow Him into a new direction or stay waiting with Him where He has us.

And so the waiting goes....

a day in my shoes

On the 4th of July my husband was asked to work....this was good for us because he would get paid holiday pay as well as the hours he worked. He went in early and came home early and took the kids to fireworks with my brother -- I stayed home having dire need of alone time.  Everybody is happier for it, especially me.

Not intending to cheat him out of a bit of time off, which everybody needs, he was told he could take another day off to make up for the lack of real holiday.  He took yesterday.  And so did I.

I've probably mentioned that we homeschool year round and take Fridays off.  But never Mondays because if we take a day off earlier in the week no one wants to make up for it on Friday.  Hard lesson to learn, but I haven't forgotten it.

So, when Daddy is home on a school day, the kiddies want to play rather than work.  And chaos ensues because both parents equals distraction and excuses and a lack of school routine. After an ultra brief discussion in which John almost just went on to work but had told the kids he'd be home, I said he could teach and I'd run all the un-kid-friendly errands on my list.  Presto.  I got a mini-vacation.

It was actually even better than that because my first errand was to drop something off at a friend's house.  It's good she had to leave a little over an hour later because I might not have gotten the rest of the things done at all.  After leaving her house I made three other stops and filled the van with gas before heading home.

Decadent, I tell you.  Simply decadent.

But when I got home, I could tell you precisely how much more John loves his job than my job.  And tomorrow, I am certain he will not complain about any aspect of the work he is so good at.  Today, he was as harried and exhausted and frustrated as I am every day by mid-afternoon.  He sees small glimpses but to truly take my place for that long...I felt sorry for him, but I was so glad he could spend a day in my shoes.

He said it gave him insight as to what else he could do that might be helpful - whoa!  I didn't see that coming and it was certainly not my goal.  But I accept, whatever he thinks he can do.  Bless the man.

It was already closing in on 4pm by the time he unloaded groceries and what-not from the van for me, so I had mercy and sent him to the mechanic with the broken air conditioner in the van.  At least, I was trying to have mercy.  A good bit of stress actually followed and I'm glad they aren't calling ME tomorrow....  But I'm sure he was deeply happy to leave the house for a bit, regardless of the reason.  I know that feeling.

And me?  I mustered through the unfinished school work and started dinner....typical.  But oh, how refreshed I felt!  I think we need to schedule a day like that every few months.  It was healthy in a million and one ways.

an ending

This week marked an ending for me.  I nursed my last baby for the last time.

She is 17 months old and though not everyone subscribes to extended nursing (I can respect that), she has weaned the youngest of all of them.  I've seen it coming for a while now, particularly when I enforced night weaning a few months ago.  She immediately went to mornings and bedtime, then just mornings because daddy sings at bedtime and that is clearly more enjoyable.  Those mornings were very early mornings, I might add.  Usually between six and seven.  Sadly, it was too early for me to be awake enough to enjoy the moments with her, half dozing in discomfort, occasionally peeling back a gritty eye to peer at her beauty.  Then I noticed when her daddy was home on the weekend mornings and got her out of the crib she typically didn't think to whimper for mommy, so she started skipping some mornings with me (quickly becoming annoyed by the three swallows available on the lesser side....we've been right-weaned for weeks now I suppose).

And suddenly that momentary whimper would be so fleeting she forgot what it was for.  As the sun filtered through the sides of my windows Sunday morning I nursed her for the last time. Her face was curious at the familiarity of the experience, disappointed in the sparseness of what was available, content to be with mommy in other ways.  I knew it was over.

She has not asked since and I decided that if she should indicate an interest tomorrow I will distract her.  She won't really notice and she will be happier with her full sippy of coconut milk and extra hugs and tickles.

I feel ready and bittersweet.  I have spent 83 months of my life nursing babies.  I have been pregnant for a day shy of 159 weeks of my life (no one really counts months of pregnancy, let's be honest).  I am ready to have my body back, to wear dresses and even night gowns (if I like them still...) instead of nursing-ready shirts.  I will mourn the voluptuous cleavage of this era that is ending, and work to embrace the wrinkled, saggy A's that are my fate for a lifetime.

And so I bid goodbye to a time that I will never return to again, and embrace the coming of growth and independence that lies ahead.