How to deal with the aftermath of "What to expect when you are expecting".

A thought just occurred to me after a sudden but very brief illness. How do we learn to expect the unexpected in parenting if books like "what to expect" all the way through the preteen years give you a false sense that this sort of should be going on an expected track. That somehow all this craziness and mayhem leads to the same place. When maybe it doesn't.

This thought came to me when I was suffering from a stomach bug that my kids had so kindly given to me, despite the fact that I washed my hands so much they felt like sand paper and that all of the hard surfaces in my house stank of bleach. There I was, head shoved in the washing machine at four am, dealing with my daughters stomach bug issues, suddenly dealing with my own stomach bug issues... And although I have another older daughter, she's 9, no where in any book did I ever come across any seriously helpful or useful information on how to handle yourself or your household when you yourself fall ill to some nasty virus.

The only thing my daughter(s) (yes they both succumbed) wanted was her mommy... And the only person I wanted was MY mommy...

For two days I lay in bed with one eye open, its spring break, husband had to be at work, I missed two days of work this week, and I listened to their monster feet plodding through the house. Through the vibrations of the cardboard house and the cardboard walls I could keep an auditory visual on their whereabouts. Until they fell silent and I had to go and check on them. I had told my nine year old to ensure that her sister (four) did not do anything dangerous and to call me if she did. Otherwise I lay curled up in a ball, watching the clock, wishing I could sleep, befriending my bucket, and really really wishing I could call my mommy to make all things better for me.

Whilst in a half sleepy feverish stupor, I discovered that my daughter had moisturized the floor, had eaten all of the oreos and the girl scout cookies, and that my nine year old had "cooked" ramen noodles. Praise Jesus for ramen noodles otherwise the poor kids would have not survived. They stayed inside although the weather was gloriously mild and their swing set got to blow in the gentle breeze, all alone. I told them if they went outside someone would steal them and I would never see them again. So they stayed put. Thank God.

And this was  a brief illness. How do moms cope when they have real problems? How do you have kids, raise them the right way, deal with all of life's demands, as well as be physically ill. There is one mom at the kids' school who has lupus and she is such a grand dame of smiles and congenial delight that you would never swear that anything is wrong with her. I would not be her. I would be, as  I have been, in the same clothes for three days, with my hair in my kids' hair elastic, it has a heart on it and its pretty and it makes me feel better, and my life would be a wreck.

Thank the Father that I feel better today and can actually string a sentence together... And thank the Father for beautiful children who took care of each other and for a husband who came home after 13 hours at work with a bucket of fried chicken for the kids. Thank you for my family.

FaceDIS

I have a total problem understanding when people truly are my friend and need me in their world. I am 33 years old and I only found this out during the last six months. So that cliché about wasting time on people who don't really deserve your time, well yup, that's me... Actually if you Wikipedia it, my face shows up on the column on the right hand side.

My relationships in general have been a series of hit and miss. I have had the worst arguments with people who mean the most to me. I am unable to appreciate what they have to offer in the moment, I spit in their face, and then when they leave, I cry like a little girl like it is the end of the world.

Melodrama aside, this over-rumination of every thing that is said and done, ever observing, ever side checking and cross referencing for hidden nuances and innuendoes leaves me frazzled, suspicious and alone. I am constantly tallying lives, scores, events, people, things, places, words said, words left unsaid, and I struggle to have this quiet place in my mind that is just for myself.

Add in a large amount of time spent behind a computer desk at work, very little rules at work, sometimes very little work at work, plus the need to excessively outflow my vernacular from my largest facial orifice, I have spent an extraordinary amount of time on facebook in the 7 years that I have been a member. According to Time magazines facebook calculator, my posts average 27 days, and seventeen or so hours (give or take), that I have "wasted" online.

Also add in the fact that I needed to somehow have a quieter mind and be more focused (I am studying university mathematics and I did HORRRRRRRIBLY in maths in high school), I concocted this crackpot idea, actually it still theoretically is a good idea, its one I use in most areas of my life that give me anxiety (heck my anxiety gives me anxiety) and that core ideology involves PURGE. If something isn't glued, bolted down, cemented to the walls or fabric of my being, then it is PURGED.

So I looked at this every growing and evolving friends list online, some 320 individuals, God bless them truly, all of them, and started culling a few of them. I thought I would miss seeing them. You know the bartender at the nightclub I used to frequent when I was 20, heck, why am I even friends with them, beyond a morbid fascination of whether he's still as adorable as he was back then, as he is now. Whilst the answer to that question is yes, I gain no further joy nor happiness knowing he's holding up pretty well in his (oh facebook said his birthdays on Wednesday next week and I should get him a Starbucks gift card) old age... but I digress, I gain no further joy nor happiness knowing anything voyeuristically through his life than I did when I was on the one side of the bar ordering a coke (I barely drink) and wishing it came with him and a side of lime.

The more I culled, the more free I felt. And truly I did feel free. There were some people I culled because their posts were annoying, their nastiness drove me wild, I didn't like their drama. And then there were just some people I culled because I wouldn't miss them. And I don't. By the way I am using the word culled so it would sound like a knife through the heart, which a faceDIS truly is, if you have ever been BLOCKED by anyone, which I have been by the way... Talk about a stake through the old ticker....

So I knocked my list down to 200, which if given my large, oh so complicated, family in South Africa, Ireland, England, Italy, Germany, Australia, New Zealand and the US of A... (did I leave anyone out?)... mostly had taken up... My dad was one of seven and my mom was only one of two... But we are a family who love our family. And keeping up with our family and being family with our family is of the highest priority.

Then came my best friends, the ones who I cant live without, their fibers of their beings are intertwined with mine, as are their now spouses, and their children... You see already it is so complicated... (anxiety levels rising)....

So then one day I got a message from someone whom I hadn't thought would be that worried that I was gone, along the lines of "did I do something wrong"... And I felt so awful because this whole culling thing really truly wasn't about what they did (Its not you, its me...)... but of course the rejection HURT them and I felt terrible so I offered of course the only thing that I could which was a very humble apology and I felt truly awful and still do whenever I see their photos on my wall, because they "took me back out of the kindness of their heart"...

And then today I was asked by another dear soul to take photos of her on her wedding day and she says "I don't know what happened Bernie, but we weren't connected anymore on facebook".... and all of a sudden the bile is up in my throat, suddenly the Richter scale of anxiety has blown its seams and I am apoplectic, tongue fumbling in my mouth, "its not you, it was me"... speech again. But she didn't take any offense... Like an adult she said "You took care of what you had to do"... And that was it. So simple. So sensible. So true.

I did what I had to do at the time. And now one by one, each week, I am sending my apologies, eating humble pie, adding people back (If they will have me!)......

and c'est la vie.... this is me :)  I love you. Good night.