Me Time

My current struggle is defining "me" time. About 16m ago I set a goal to lose weight, and I have lost about 30lbs and maintained. I should lose another 20lbs (I want to, not just should). But in these 16 months I have walked at least 10k steps probably 90% (or more) of the time.

Going to work made it pretty easy, I would get up and walk around and use my lunch time to walk while listening to podcasts. At night I would go for walks by myself and they were therapeutic. Although sometimes getting out at night was hard because by the time the boys are in bed I am just too tired to so anything. Most nights I would push myself.

Then came April 2020 and working from home full time. At first I didn't do anything and couldn't get enough steps in, I didn't even try. Since June 2019 I hit monthly goals of 10k except for April, June and July 2020. (July was my worst month, I only averaged 7823 steps that month).

I feel guilty on days I don't get 10k steps, but should I? It's my own goal. Shouldn't I be flexible with myself? Some days I might be it make it because I don't feel well, others because I have too many other things to do. To us see, I have been walking back and forth in my living room during the day in order to get the steps in between working. Many times I then have to still go for an evening walk (it's been too hot to go out during the day) to get to the steps or I walk around by bedroom before laying down.

Along with doing some TikTok exercises it consumes my free time. Time I could be using to read (something I love doing but never find the time to do) or even scrolling TikTok while lounging on my Pandemic Hammock Purchase.

Even writing all this I find it hard to give up my 10k steps. I have been doing it for so so long how do I stop now? How do I even decrease that number? It makes me feel like a failure.

My SIL will watch my kids today in my home while I work. I super appreciate her doing this, but it will make it impossible for me to get steps since the house will be hers to use and I will essentially be hiding in the office so the kids don't see me and want to come to me. I know I should be graceful with myself on days like today - something beyond my control, but still I can't be.

We shall see....

I Explode

Originally 10/3/20:

I explode.

I want to blame my short temper on my dad's death lately, but I know it goes much deeper than that. It is just genetics, or the way I was raised. My mom has always been a fire cracker. I can see the things she does that are exaggerated. The behaviors I don't like.

Yet I can't stop myself. It's something that I did in with girlfriends in high school and things I do now as a 36 year old. Unfortunately I haven't learned the strategies to cope and to improve.

Sometimes I think I am doing better. Sometimes I feel like I have improved, but then I apparently spiral down again without realizing it until I am so far I to the anger hole that I grasp at straws to get out.

I have tried therapy for different reasons over the years, but they are icky marginally helpful.

I posted in a mommy's group earlier something that was sort of in a mess that I am surprised anyone replied to. But one of the replied really resonated and I hope I can use the strategy that she suggested to deal with the things I say and do. I will do it in conjunction with this journal and a blog. I may just write it in here and copy it into my blog.

I get angry at things that probably aren't worth getting angry at 99% of the time.

Today my 2 year old, Lucas, somehow climbed on top of his changing table and poured baby powder everywhere and was emptying out the wet wipes. I took it I good fun at first, and called everyone in to see, took pictures, etc. Then when I was cleaning up the diapers he threw all over the floor both boys began to shove them in the basket.

They were trying to help, but I yelled for then to stop because they weren't doing it the way I wanted it. Which is also a problem of mine, when things don't go my way, the planned ir expected way.... I have a hard time handling it.

The nice woman on the post suggested to write it all down to really try and find the root of my frustrations. Writing this about my boys and the diapers made me realize it was not about /them/ doing it wrong, but that I couldn't release control of how I wanted it to look. In retrospect I know that it was not worth yelling at my kid about and that they indeed were trying to be helpful (something I definitely should encourage them on).

Now, writing this down and acknowledging it doesn't mean I'm fixed it that I'll know how to deal with it next time, but it is a start and it may remind me to stop in the moment next time.

Writing has always been something I enjoyed and did well. But at some point, I don't know when, I started believing my writing sucked. I am not creative enough or concentrate enough to do it well and so I stopped. Being busy was a good excuse to not continue writing. But as I write this up on my phone... It feels nice.

Time really is an issue, though. I feel like I don't have time to exercise, read, write, be with the kids, cook, clean, etc. I prioritize and lately exercising indoors has won. Although, the last 3 weeks has created a monster of eating anything within me. I need to pull out of that. Monday, I hope.

Point being... I need to find more time somewhere to do have more "me" time. Time to read a book and time to go for a walk. I really enjoy walks on my own in which I can listen to a podcast. The last 2 months have been super hot so I haven't been motivates to do it, and usually by the time the boys are asleep I am too tired to do anything. I need Thomas' help in this.

If I can do these 2 things I think everything else will get better. I think I had a better attitude when I was at least getting walks in. Having 20 minutes (literally takes me 20-30 minutes to take the walks I need to get to my step goal) really kept me happy.

Then covid hit and life got turned upside down and while I lost weight and started exercising daily, my attitude deteriorated.

It's midnight. I need to sleep.

Memories...

From 9/26/20:

I always have memories but I don't write them down. I used to blog a lot and currently Jonathan is trying to put them all in a file so that maybe I can print them out.

But sometimes something happens and I need to write it down so I won't forget in the future.

Yesterday I was thinking about how my mom and dad got me out of the tub when I was little. I don't remember much of who gave me baths or if they stayed in the room with me. I imagine it was my mom, she was the homemaker and didn't work out of the home. But for one reason or another one or the other would take me out. My dad would get try take a towel and put it behind me and move it side to side, back and forth.

My mom? She would hit the towel against us... Think boys in a locker room. It was all in good fun. They must have made it a "thing", I am not sure.

I also need to use this space to keep memories of the boys. They do things and I say I need to remember them, but I forget to write them down.

A week ago or so Logan went to say goodnight to everyone in the house and told them "thank you for loving me!"

Another morning as I was leaving him at Nona's house and he called me back and I told him I loved him. His response was "Thank you! You made me happy!".

It's Been Hard

I am playing catch up. These are personal journal entries that I want to share. 

This was suggested to me by someone to take notes, release my inner thoughts. I don't know if I will like it since I have to type in my phone, but it is more convenient than my computer right now.

It has been a hard 10 days.

My dad died. Died. He is gone. I miss him. I miss him being 'there'. He had been getting worse physically and mentally the last few years. But I mourn for the memories. I mourn for the times when I was little that I wish I could relive. I wish I could jump back and be a little girl that would go swimming with him after watching the swimming parts of the summer olympics in 1992 (I was 7).

Those are precious memories. I can still feel myself jumping on my toes and running to get to the grass on the walk to the community pool. The ground too hot for my baby feet, while my dad claimed his calluses prevented his from burning. He would hang his towel over his shoulder. I can transport myself to that moment. As though I am watching a video, but there is no video and no pictures. Just what is in my mind.

My blond hair flowing behind me. At the pool he would put me on his shoulders in the water and walk from the shallow end to the deep end until he went under. It felt like he was walking down steps. I loved it. It's one of the only real memories I have if the pool, but it is such a vivid and good one.

Now... I forget he is gone and when I remember it is like running into a brick wall. The reality of it. So I try to forget.

My Dad Has Passed

Things were so hopeful of having him around for at least several months and in decent condition.

But it was cut short. I don't know to go into details about what happened... I have had to repeat it over and over to people, and it doesn't matter. Maybe in the future I will type it out. But not today. It's too raw.

I will say that it shouldn't have happened.  It was an "accident" or so we think. We will never know. But the end result of whatever happened remains the same: he bled out and died.

Best we can guess he didn't really suffer, but we haven't been through it so can we really know?

I love my daddy. He was an amazing dad. I have so, so many memories with him. Not just in pictures but in my mind. It's good for my sister to write about her memories of him... It makes me cry to remember mine. I will try to write them out. Maybe as they come to me or as I see them relived in my images. But only when I feel comfortable doing so.

In the meantime I am trying to deal day by day, moment by moment. Someone told me that the death of a close one if like a hurricane and that the waves are very intense at first but then they simmer out. I don't know how true this is. Because the waves are very mellow... and I feel that it will become more intense as time goes on.

Days like today are why I restarted this blog.

I'm sitting here crying during a work break. Lucas is being super difficult for my mom and I don't know what to do.

He is not an "easy" child. He is a 2 year old. His behavior may be typical for his age, but is so much more destructive than we have seen before that it makes it hard.

The typical punishments or redirecting don't seem to work. And I don't know what to do. I'm requesting guidance, but am lost anyway. He is healthy but has potential Apraxia (he can't be diagnosed just yet) and has been in therapy via Zoom since April.

A year ago when the doctor first suggested he might have a speech problem and wanted to do a referral I laughed, I figured he was a later talker like me. Now it's real that it's not just delayed speech. He has a problem that he needs to work hard on to improve and we need to work hard with him.

And I'm not coping with it well. I also feel like I am the only one doing anything to help. Struggling to work with him to improve and work on his speech.

I've been doing what I can to hold myself together with him, pushing aside my feelings of inadequacy as his mom. I should probably go back to therapy. I stopped when the quarantine started. At that point I was doing pretty well managing my Postpartum Depression. I reminded myself that he is his own person with different needs than his brother... and it worked. But as his behavior has grown more difficult, it makes me question my treatment of him all over again.

I need to learn to take it one day at a time. Today is a good reminder of that, because I became overwhelmed very quickly this morning.

Yes, I know this post is very rambling.... but that's what I needed to do.

I am back.

I need a place to get everything out. My brain works faster than my hands can actually write, so a written journal just doesn't make sense for me. I quit it too quickly. A word document would work... but I feel like I would quit that after a day as well. There is something to say about posting things publicly.

Not that I think anyone will ever read this, but the idea is there.

We are in a pandemic and we don't know when it will be over. Everything is uncertain. I think I've remained pretty cool mentally these past 5+ months, but sometimes I feel like I am breaking.

Right now what's on my mind is on my dad.

Last Friday afternoon my mom told me that my dad wasn't feeling well so I asked my brother to go and see what was going on. See, my dad will be 86 in a few short weeks and shows his age. My brother went and my dad has been in the hospital since that evening. Essentially my dad's kidneys and heart are giving out. He had been clear to us that he did not want to be on dialysis and so we essentially left with knowing he was going to be dying soon. Maybe a few days, a couple of weeks but no more than a couple of months.

Then after my brother spoke to him he decided he would do dialysis... if that's what we wanted. The thing is that we want what he wants. Of course we don't want him to die, but he if he is in pain or just done... who am I to decide for him. But it seems that he needed to know that we love him and need him near us. So he started dialysis yesterday. His numbers improved already. They did an echo on his heart and there are 2 things going on there, but apparently one is not horrible, and the other is managed by medication.

He will be able to come home, most likely, this weekend. And from there we will start the well known routine of dialysis. My sister spent years of her life on dialysis so we know how it works. Because of COVID we likely won't be able to be with him (even if we could because of work).

Speaking of COVID - we have been unable to see him since my brother left him at the hospital on Friday night. We've been calling him, but it's not the same. I'm sure he will be happy to come home.

My sister will be coming to visit this weekend and we'll celebrate Lucas' birthday as well as mine and my dad's (10/1) while she and the girls are here.

I am sure I will post more... when the words come.