When the story of my life is told, “frequently overwhelmed” is not really a phrase I want remembered.  Nevertheless, it seems to be a state in which I often find myself.

There was once a time when I was far busier, my day filled with activities at school, with the children, and at home.  From the time I woke up until the time I went to bed, I was doing – things for others, things for the kids, things for our church or community.

For years, I was the person who arrived at work early with treats for my co-workers, was always prepared for class with full lesson plans, and still worked  hours at home serving my family with clean laundry and wholesome meals.  My kitchen stayed clean, the bathrooms immaculate, and I even had time to connect with friends through the computer.  Bills were paid on time, the kid’s activity fees were covered, and we always had groceries in the house that reflected my carefully planned menus.  We went places and did fun things together.

Of late, it feels everything in my life now is behind the eight ball.  My house is a disaster all the time, clutter is everywhere, and I feel like a family of sardines live in this house that barely fits us and costs way too much for what we’re getting.  We have a stack of bills and daily reminder phone calls to juggle.  My daily routine starts before day break and many days I spend hours in the seat of the family vehicle playing Taxi Driver to those who cannot drive for themselves.

Now I feel like I get nothing accomplished from day to day.  I wake up tired and I go to bed tired while I lay there wondering where the day went and if I’ll be able to look up at any point in my life and be able to offer a list of accomplishments that extend beyond my manic Mondays, frantic Fridays, or wacky weekends.

I spend many days battling my urge to dream of a life more independent; where I am in control of the risks affecting me, and where I can make wise and informed choices before its too late.  I wonder what happened to my energy and my motivation.  I wonder what happened to me.  Few days go by without tears, and most days end with them.  My favorite activity now is lying quietly snuggled against Temptress, hoping sleep will deliver me to a place of peace and serenity before being pulled into another dutiful arena.

We have a new business that we are trying to get up and running.  We are coming to the end of our lease term and should be moving – again – to find something more permanent and stable for our family.  We are nearing the summer months, where the fundamental nature of my existence for nearly three months is spent in an endless pattern between the stove, refrigerator, and sink playing Chief Cook and Bottle Washer to nine children who waiver between boredom and summer hyperactivity. (Would this be a good time to interject my thoughts on year round schooling again?   Nah, I’ll let this one pass…)

There was a time in my life when I would have been advised (and would have probably followed through) to “let go and let God.”  But years later a frustrated me still found discontentment in the journey and realized the problem with laying one’s woes (or the responsibility thereof) at the feet of another.

It would be nice to wake up one morning to find we’d won the lottery, to stumble upon some valuable thing in the attic, or to receive an unexpected IRS rebate in the mailbox.  What I want is for fate to give us a break, for someone to believe in us, to have someone to step in as a benevolent benefactor and give us a step up; just one tiny nudge in the right direction.  Those who say money can’t buy happiness are not giving enough credence to the fact that lack of money can certainly create deficit of contented choices.

What I think I need to do is to get a grip on reality; to take charge and make some decisions that pull me out of whatever funk I’m wearing and get me back into performance mode.  Or maybe, that is the cloak I’m desperately trying to take off.  I wonder if what I think I should be doing is just ingrained obligation bubbling to the top of an otherwise restructured life.

Maybe it is accurate that those who do not truly experience a childhood and adolescence are doomed to seek it later in life; to long for days of freedom and frivolity that were not a part of the growing up years.  The parentified child in me grows uncomfortable with the shackles of the adult life I pursued for so long.  I think I falsely believed that when I chose maturity for myself, I would hold the control for my own life and the power others held against me would suddenly be null.

But what I have found is how much life becomes increasingly more restrictive as we age.  The older I get, the fewer amenable choices remain.  The less I can think of myself and the more I am forced into decisions that echo the wishes of others.  I begin to sink back into the hollows of the endless mind and wonder who the actual author of my life story will become as the pages continue to turn. 

~ the laundry goddess, April 14, 2009

I am happy to say that for Easter, all our chickies are back on the same continent.  Miss Academic had a fabulous time in Greece (now that she’s home I can tell you where she went) and has done nothing but bubble about her experiences.  I know the exploration bug has bitten.  I expect this to be the first of many travels for her.  Each time I will feel those Mommy twinges as she drives away or steps onto an airplane.  But I’m thrilled for her and know those once-in-a-lifetime experiences only present themselves in limited number.  If we are the sum of our experiences, may each of us seize those chances to make something truly amazing inside oursleves.

During the entire time Fix was away from home I cried many tears and felt pain and heartache during our difficult times and separation. But somewhere deep in my heart I knew he still loved me and I felt that we would find a way to work it out.
And we did.
Now the pain I feel is unyielding. I feel bereft, cast aside, used, and unwanted. I live in the same house with Big and yet I can not look him in the eye…I avoid it all costs. The pain I feel when my eyes mistakenly lock with his is like no other. I hurt in ways I didn’t think possible and I question daily how I can be so hurt and so angry and yet feel so utterly desolate and crumple into a sobbing heap when I am near him. A mistaken touch when we pass each other in the kitchen or exchange an object is my undoing. I gather my reserves each time I am near him, willing myself to bestrong, sometimes I succeed, others I fail… miserably.
I have two people who do love me and who do want me to be in their lives and accept the love I have to offer them. Why then is this so hard, why can I not just move forward and let him go?
When will the pain stop? When will I make it through a day without tears, without feeling ripped apart?

Temptress

This morning one of our chicks is taking a huge leap from home and away from the protective shelter of our nest.
Miss Academic is jetting away on a school trip for the next 9 days to Greece.
We are all pleased and excited for her to be able to have this wonderful opportunity, but we would not be mothers if there were not trepidation over this journey.
One of our younglings is traveling half a world away, far from our reach… she goes with our love and our blessings.
We hope each of you will take a moment over the next 9 days to send her a bit of heartfelt good energy to help us keep her safe.

Have a wonderful time darling ! We love you….

The Mommies

There reached a point almost 2 years ago when the arguing and hurtful words that Fix and I slung at each other were said to hurt. They may have started as a discussion, as a need to be heard and understood, but eventually it would degrade into sarcasm, hurtful barbs and all out meanness. Threats, ultimatums, and cutting remarks became status quo.
I finally reached a point where I was worn down, I couldn’t fight any longer and I felt like my sanity was slipping away. It was during this time when I found safe haven in the bedroom and in the arms of my Goddess. Things would get awful with Fix and I would retreat to her room where I could cry and she would hold me. Where I could breathe again and she would help me find peace inside. She helped me to shore up my reserves so I was ready for the next battle. I know all of this sounds awful, but for a long while there was love between Fix and I, but there was war as well.
Fix and I needed to learn to communicate, to talk without hurting each other, to learn to listen and understand each other. We needed to learn to argue, to debate, not to fight. We were good at fighting; we had to become good at communicating. Big and Goddess were our role models. Their manner of being able to talk out calmly and rationally even the most difficult of subjects was admirable and something I strove to do.
We are not perfect at this new way of communication, and I expect each of us to slip on occasion, but it is both of our goals to work towards open, honest, CALM , communication now and in the future.
The last several months have been very difficult in our home. While there is joy in having our family back together again, we are still being ripped apart. Big and I no longer have a relationship. He wants Fix and I to take our family and leave. He feels we are the reason he and Goddess are having difficulty overcoming their issues. He demands primary status from her and begrudges every moment of time spent with us. He wants all of her and full open poly for himself. He is so fervent in his desire for his wishes to be met that he is slowly and systematically tearing Goddess apart. I see what is happening to them an almost replay of Fix and I. Old issues, old hurts, things from the past have finally become to much for each of them to deal with and he thinks the way to fix them is to pull her to him and away from us. Sounds familiar.
Even more familiar is their manner of disagreement. While there are no raised voices and the majority of their disagreement is behind closed doors, the words are still hurtful, at times meant to demean or belittle, the threats, ultimatums, sarcasm and cutting remarks are like seeing the last 2 years with Fix in movie replay. He demands she talk when doesn’t want to or feels mentally and emotionally exhausted, at times using what could be called guerilla tactics. Sometimes I see the pain in her eyes after a particularly hurtful “talking” session and I want to rail at him, but know that isn’t my place. Goddess is a strong and capable woman, but there is fragility about her. One that makes you want to protect and shield her. I know Big feel that way about her, he an I have discussed it often. So I wonder now, is it pure selfishness to have all of his needs met and act in a way that pleases only him that has caused him to step away from his usual character and treat her in such a manner??
He and I have spoke often of his depth of love for her, he has been moved to tears often in his description of his feelings. I never once question the truth and validity of such. And I still do not. But I do question if he cherishes her; if he loves her in a way that is open and unconditional. I see no compersion from him where she is concerned. He has no empathy for the feelings of others. He seems to simply want things the way he wants them and expects others to conform. I never really saw this side of him until recently and I am truly broken hearted. I have seen him for three years as a rock, an upstanding, honorable, honest (to a fault) and loving man. All things that caused me to fall deeply in love with him.
But recently I wonder if I was blinded by that love. Did I only see what I wanted???
I am still deeply in love with this man; his absence in my life is painful in ways I can’t describe. I hold it together while he is away working, but when he arrives home and walks into the room no amount of self talk keeps me in one piece. I can’t look into his eyes, I can hardly look at him at all without the ache hitting me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. How I can I be so desperately in love with this man when I mean nothing to him I do not know. More still, how could I have been so blind these three years? I thought I brought something to him, I thought I meant something to him. I see now I was nothing more than a means to an end. All of those times we were together intimately I would gaze into his eyes and smile at him I thought the smile I was given back for sincere. I think now it was given for the sake of placation. I was a nice diversion when he needed physical relief. I have heard him say to me the words “I Love you” and yet I now know they were not meant, they were not real. He could argue that he loved me once but that he wasn’t “IN” love with me. How then if that was true… if he really loved me in any form could he toss me aside in favor of the new relationship he had yet to find. How could he demand I take my family and leave if he felt anything for me?
Our littlest was 14 months old when we brought this family together. She knows nothing else. She thinks Big is as much her Daddy as Fix is. He walked thru the door last night after 2 days away and I could hear her from the next room gleefully calling “ Hi Daddy” to him. I had to excuse myself and give in to yet another sobbing session. The pain of seeing him and not being able to be a part of his life other than that of a pariah, and to hear my baby girl call to her “Daddy” in welcome without any idea that he would cast her aside along with the rest of us was crippling to my heart.
I know one day the pain will lessen, I know eventually I can get thru a day with out tears. I know that the family we have all created together can and will be spectacular. And I know that if he would just back off, relax his hold a bit and let Goddess come to him in her time he would be able to find that which he seeks. He would be able to find his peace and live his life in a way that would bless him in many ways and that as a family we could carry on our mission of raising these beautiful children together and receiving more love and happiness than we could ever expect existed.
~ Temptress