Since our family has grown, we are no longer 4 Big Heads, but thanks to little Esther's big head, we have grown to five. So, please relocate our adventures to FBH (five big heads) at http://5bigheads.blogspot.com/.
Hope to see you there!
What is the deal? I went to bed late and exhausted from a day of kid, kid, kid, work, kid, kid, kid. Why am I awake at 4am with no hopes of getting back to sleep? I have no idea, so I start to pray. I can't even keep my mind still long enough to form a thought to pray. Then I start to pray that my mind will be still. Then I forget that, apologize to the Big Guy for my inability to stay in the moment and hop out of bed for some water. Apparently ice water doesn't soothe ones innards to go night-night. In fact, now I am wondering how I will survive this Wide Eyed Wednesday on little to no sleep. Not ONE of my children, dogs, or husbands are awake (I know I typed husbands in the plural...it is the compound and always keep 'em guessin'). So, I write....I order a pair of shoes (insomniacs must be broke), I work, I read my email, I try to solve world peace and created a new business idea. What's next? Coffee I say...lots and lots of coffee and possibly a round of sweat on the treadmill...if I don't collapse in pure exhaustion on my walk back to my room. Crud-I just heard a noise....big house, big noise....dodododo (insert creepy movie soundtrack here). In case noise comes after me, I love you all and I better click the publish button so my last bit of craziness can change the world in print form. Oh Happy Day!
I realize today is election day and everyone is wrapped up with their moral and ethical voting duty and now glued to cnn, fox, or comedy central for the latest update. I am in my too small "Advocate Mom" shirt with my lovehandles hanging out and my paris ooh laa laa jammy bottoms with open bags of Captain Crunch cereal and Nestle Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips...enough said. All week my girls asked me who I was going to vote for, all week I told them I don't know and then when I grabbed my last registration notice I realized that I forgot to update my address. CRAP!!! I called the office, they said it would be a provisional vote and may or may not be counted. Where are my brain cells, did the 6 month old take them all or will anything of value be found when the fog clears? POSSIBLY THE BIGGEST ELECTION OF THE CENTURY AND MY VOTE MIGHT NOT COUNT?? Whatever....
So then since I am tired of watching the election that I may not have a voice in anyway, I say to my cold suffering hubby-let's see whats on the DVR. We do...it's Grey's Anatomy from last week and the opening scene is the lesbian wannabe drs and one of them is describing how she is so gay. Then, my 7 year old walks in the room and I have NO idea how long she's been there. What in the world? I remember the worst thing we couldn't watch on tv as kids was Married with Children and now Peg Bundy is playing the "old lady" of a biker bad boy leader in Sons of Anarchy. What is going to be on tv when my kids are thirtysomething? As if the lesbian gone bad scene wasn't enough, then pigs got stabbed, and a 10 yr olds organs got laid out and frozen. I paused it to grab the snacks (Wilbur getting stabbed was more than I could handle without chocolate) and haven't seen the end, but why can't I look away? I went to a state university...I'm not naive to the whole "experimenting" of college (not that I tried it), but I just don't know why the writers had to take it there. I am not surprised, I'm a little disgusted and I know I don't have to watch, but McDreamy and McSteamy draw me in weekly. It sucks to be middle aged and have a favorite show turn too naughty and then you have to bore others by ranting about it....I hope Wilbur lives....
I am an aunt! My sister had her first baby-a girl-Kiah Mary on our mom's birthday, October 30th. Everyone is healthy and good. I spoke to my sister yesterday and gave her permission to have her call me Aunt Susie. I am so not a Susie, but I grew up with everyone in my family calling me that....don't call me that unless we exchange blood. The Susie part comes with several memories for me, how my dad used to sing wake up little Susie every morning....the 3rd grade boy who treacherously called me Susie Sponge (it was the 80's people). Susie to me connotates an easy going, chunky kid who just wanted to get along with everyone. I still want to get along, but I will pass on the chunky. I think when you're an auntie, you get to be the fun playful interim parent....so Susie would be appropriate I guess. Meet me....Aunt Susie and welcome baby Kiah to our crazy world of dysfunctional survival where giggles abound-we are glad you are here!
We are in a post-candy haze and thoroughly enjoyed our bundle of trick-or-treaters that journeyed up our darkened walkway. Thanks to my husbands genius, full size candy bars were given to middle schoolers and older and I do believe the word will get out next year and we may have to double up on the King Size stash. My waistline is in a love/hate relationship with the big bowl of leftovers and I am trying to use it as my own personal reward system, but have resorted to diving in without the earning part of it (don't judge me...).
So, as we recover and get ready for our week of much anticipated celebration (James' birthday and Esther's finalization), I have been "haunted" (excuse the pun) by several things, but this morning especially is one of being invisible. There has been an email going around called the Invisible Mother (or something like that) and I could relate, but being that I am a mom of high functioning autism, I tend to explain what I am doing for all my kids, as I'm doing it. Not to get the credit that may be deserved, but to explain the step by step logic of the social situations, chores, communications with teachers and coaches, etc. For that reason I don't always feel like an invisible mom. What I did have hit me over the head this morning is that I have somehow become a ghost of my former self. I am not what I thought I was going to be. I thought I was going to be a dr....I don't do needles. I thought I was never going to be married....I'm 15 years in. I thought Utah would be the LAST place on earth I would ever live....2 years in. I thought I would have my parents walking in relationship with me through my adult life.....not the case. I thought I was a handful.....I am.
That last one is the one that's getting me on this rainy Sunday morning, as my family walks out to go to church without me and the baby....I'm a handful.
I have met "handful" people several times in my life and it has been disguised in different forms of talks too much, doesn't follow social cues, borders on stalking, doesn't listen, angry, bitter...you get the drift.
I have been angry, I have been bitter, I may talk too much and not be the best listener, but I didn't think I truly bought into the concept of me being a handful until I was wiping stinging tears from my eyes on the toilet this morning and thinking I am a handful.
I think satan lies. I know that's an obvious statement, but I truly think he pushes and pushes until we, as believers, buy into his lie. I have bought in. Not only have I bought in, but I banked the house, my marriage, my relationships....me on this lie. It's one I have heard my whole life..."Good luck with that one-she's a handful" was the response of someone close to me to my new fiance. I played and continue to play the role of handful because that's what I know. That's how I was labeled (along with a lot of other things I'm sure), but what if that's not ok anymore? How does one break a pattern of buying into a lie that prevents them from embracing the happiness in front of them? How does one give up the expectations that a "handful" person holds over those around them? Why are there so many times that I can't see myself as God sees me and only feed on the unwarranted feelings that plague me?
I realize the gift that being a "handful" brings as well. It means when a school district tries to withhold services from your child, you make sure the district superinterdent and all those below know that you know your childs rights and you won't be rolling over....you are an advocate. It means that when you see a kid that you don't know hitting another child on pick up from school that you pull your car over, roll down your window, tell them to knock it off, and get their mom's phone number...waiting there until the mom can come pick up the offender.....you defend the helpless. It means when you order your steak well done and it comes back mooing, you send it back....even though you know you're risking retaliation from the cook....you are fair and want what you ordered and paid for. It means throwing all social correctness to the wind in choosing to become a transracial family because it's not only the right thing to do, but it became the only ONLY thing to do....I love...I am an advocate.
A flamboyant chunky red head that likes to make people smile should not be seeing herself as invisible. The confidence displayed in an advocacy situation needs to be applied within...instead I'm crumbling and unsure of my decisions and walking around hurt and angry at a time when my soul should be rejoicing for the week ahead. I instead go to bed with a headache pounding the needs of those around me and wake up with a stomach ache knowing I have to face it all again. Alone in my role of handful, I blame those closest for their lack of esp and begin to resent their presence and ignorance of the burdens I carry. Let the pity party begin...do you hear violins? Don't cry for me Utah begins to play as I look at myself in the mirror I see not a powerful Godly woman, but a broken, lonely, too busy, too distracted, complaining, misunderstood shadow of the person I want to be. "I'm done" does not even begin to describe the doneness I am with that person in the mirror. I have somehow lost myself in the shuffle to soccer practices and have excuses a mile long as to why I can't find me.
The challenge comes in the one word I hate the most....balance. How to bring out the best qualities of a "handful" without resonating in the nastiness of the unworthy lies that satan whispers to me as my head bounces on the toilet paper roll in a fit of frustration and insight that brings me to my knees. All I heard is he was right, you are a handful...you are a burden....you cause chaos...they would be better off without you. Enter string quartet....
As much as that is true in a lot of things, I have to let go of the label. It has me bound up and isn't that where satan wants me? Bound up....ineffective....invisible.....
A simple Halloween weekend where the biggest trick will be me navigating my way through this.......my treat I'm hoping will be more fulfilling relationships with those I love.
Happy Halloween!
