The evolution of "me time."

Before I had kids I went to the gym 5 plus days a week.  For more than an hour usually.  Weight training was actually included in my workout instead of just the treadmill, stretching and some core exercises.  I showered and then made dinner, read a book or watched some TV.  I couldn't have told you what number the Disney Channel was even on.  My days were filled with a wonderful job as a counselor in a residential and therapeutic day program.  Josh and I had weekly dinners, "family" dinners if you will, with our best friends every Wednesday night.  Weekends were filled with...I can't even remember how I used to fill so much time to myself.  Sleeping in surely.  Naps whenever I wanted to.  Church on Sunday mornings.  Eating out regularly.  A movie sometimes.  But really, I don't even know what I used to do with all of that time.

Then Caroline was born and "me time" came in the form of going to the gym for a quick run when Josh and I were both home from work.  Timing it in between nursing feedings.  The occasional dinner and a movie night out with a babysitter at home.  And scheduled trips out of the home without Caroline - usually it was hanging out with a friend doing something.  I could go to the bathroom alone.  Having just one baby was busy, but very manageable.  But I could still hear my inner monologue.  Josh could take care of her for me to shower, or vice versa.  Leaving me alone to my thoughts.

Less than two years later Jackson came along.  "Me time" became the occasional Saturday morning of sleeping in.  When Josh would take Caroline and Jackson to the bagel place.  Showering alone started to drift away.  As Caroline would open the door, just checking in or having something she needed to tell mommy, and leave the door wide open so the bathroom filled with cold air.  Caroline would usually insist on accompanying me in the bathroom.  You know, I might miss her or get lonely in those 3 minutes.  Me time was the short car ride in between work and daycare.  Lunch breaks at work were opportunities to remember I was a person, not just a mother.  Things were active, but Josh and I were still playing the parental man-to-man defense with our kids.

Add Ryan into the mix, 3 kids under 4-years-old, and "me time" turned into doing the dishes while Josh took a turn giving baths.  By this time Caroline was 3, Jackson was almost 2 and Ryan was a newborn.  Showering alone was a thing of the past.  There was almost always a baby sitting in that bouncy seat on my bathroom floor.  As I sang tone deaf versions of "You are my sunshine," the "ABCs," and "Twinkle twinkle little star," hoping to get the conditioner out of my hair before I had to get out.  I could hear crying approaching the bathroom and braced for the tears and sadness of the 2 and 3-year-olds that were bound to come my way.  All while trying to shave my legs with goose bumps from the cold air again.  My version of me time usually meant there was still a baby I was taking care of somewhere in the room.  Going to the bathroom was a family affair.  And if I actually shut the door and locked it toddler fingers were visible on the bottom of the door.  With banging from Jackson and cries of desperation that they weren't included.

A fourth child blessed our family for a brief period of time, and the non-stress tests during that pregnancy were times to sit and relax.  While someone was usually taking care of the older kids.  Today I find my "me time" scheduled weeks in advance in the form of the rare dinner out with friends.  And last week, I had my annual OB-GYN exam in Boston.  That is one appointment I will do anything possible not to bring the kids to.  You know you are a mom when your OB-GYN appointment is your "me time."  Seriously.

Inside my head there are voices asking for milk, a snack, or some other request nowadays.  But it's all good.  I love my family and chaos.  I wouldn't trade it.  And really, how important is that weight training anyway?  That's what carrying your kids is for.

Yup, he just said vagina.

Tuesday mornings Jackson and I have some rare one-on-one time.  With his sister in first grade and one of his younger brothers in an early intervention group, Jackson and I sneak away for some grocery shopping.  And perhaps a doughnut.  When you have 4 kids so close together, it really is a treat to get this time to soak in the child that your baby has become.  And glimpse into what kind of person he may be in the future.

Yesterday we had had our doughnut and began our grocery shopping.  (Yes, this is what your quality one-on-one time turns into with a busy family.  Grocery shopping becomes the exciting time for Jackson.  The key is to pitch the excursion as special mom-Jackson time.)  I was meal planning on the go, my usual, and said "hey Jackson, how about we have lasagna for dinner this week?"

Jackson: "Nope, I don't like vagina."

And there it was.  Simply stated.  My 4-year-old just said vagina in the Brockton Market Basket.  Apparently lasagna and vagina sound similar to a child with a speech articulation issue.  And people were all around us.  I just said "OK," and moved onto the next aisle.

This stuff happens all of the time in our family.  And I am beginning to realize that these antics seem to happen more often in our family than in most.  Blessed chaos indeed.

Distraction

Over the last six months or so my grief has shifted.  Or perhaps only on the surface.  I am no longer visibly crying all of the time.  But I still do that at times too, just not in front of people often.  People have stopped asking about how I am most of the time.  Probably because they don't see me cry as much, if at all, any more.  I guess they think I'm "better."  But here's the thing, I'm still screaming inside.  I don't have much free time at all, but with any that I do the thoughts tend to drift back to my dead son.

About six months ago I discovered Pinterest and distraction became a primary coping skill for me.  Painting the house, arts and crafts, building furniture...anything to drown out the "my child died" inner monologue while the world around me is pregnant and delivers healthy children.  So here are some of my more recent projects.  Josh is a nice, and smart, husband not to say anything about me and my crafting.  I think he knows it serves a greater purpose for me.

Today I finished a DIY mirror for our downstairs bathroom and this week I made a monogram for our front door.

And yes, our front door needs a new coat of paint.  :)

Here is the start of our gallery wall.  I made a bunch of canvas photos as well as photos applied to wood.  I kind of like it so far.  

I made this piece of art out of butterfly cut outs a friend gave me.  They just appeared on her kitchen table one day, when she had been thinking and praying for me, when no one was in her home.  Yet somehow, over 100 butterflies found their way to her table, and then to me.  

Don't worry, I do still take care of the kids and the rest of the family responsibilities.  Most of the time.  So distraction is my way to healing.  Or at least occupies my mind when the waves of grief roll in.  

Let the children come to me.

The other day I took the kids down the street for a bike ride.  We live close to a small cemetery - a great, safe spot for a 6, 4 and 2-year-old to cruise around on their bikes.  Caroline is now 6 and stopped to look at a grave that was prepared for a funeral later that morning.  With her dad being a minister and her youngest brother having died a year ago, Caroline has more exposure to death than most children.  But this trip to the cemetery I think she actually got it.  These graves were the sacred places for others' loved ones.  As Ethan's Macintosh tree is a sacred place for our family.

On the way out of the cemetery Caroline noticed a statue of Jesus at the entrance.  I looked up and all 3 of my kids had stopped and were talking about Jesus.  This was a moment as a parent that made me thankful and proud.  That my children know Jesus.  And love him.  Hey - we may have our hot mess moments but this moment reminded me that we are doing something right as parents.

Caroline face looked as if something dawned upon her.  "Ohhh.  This must be where Jesus died."  She thought the statue of Jesus was his actual grave.  So sweet.  Our quaint New England town is not exactly The Holy Land.  It makes complete sense if you are a 6-year-old.  I explained otherwise and read a scripture quote inscribed on the statue.  Reviewing that God sent his son Jesus to our world to tell us he loves us and so we may go to Heaven when we die.  Jackson and Ryan gently touched the statue - I think they were assessing whether this statue of Jesus was really alive or not.  Much like they assess mannequins in stores.  Even the ones with no heads mind you.  The boys and I moved along and I glance backwards to see Caroline patting Jesus' head.

  "What are you doing Caroline?"

  "Telling him he did a good job."

  Oh, sure.  Providing positive reinforcement much like we do in our family.  A 6-year-old is an amazing thing.  Yes Jesus, you did a good job.

  Let the children come to me.  And the Gray children followed.

Making it rain

Parents out there, you know that blessed moment of the night when your kids are finally in bed, leaving you alone for a few minutes and you actually get to watch a show that you DVR'd?  That's another sacred time around my home.  That sacred time was interrupted the other night by another story that I couldn't make up.

Josh and I were watching a show and I thought I heard a dripping sound.  Josh muted the TV and he quickly said "that's water!"  We split up looking for the source.

Jackson, our 4-year-old, has a slight sleeping walking problem.  Only when he really has to pee but doesn't wake up fully to get himself to the bathroom.  So the thought did cross my mind that he was peeing somewhere other than the toilet again.  But no, it couldn't be that.  The dripping sound was coming from the first floor and I didn't hear Jackson come downstairs.  Boy, was I wrong.

Josh discovered it was raining pee in our kitchen.  Seriously.  Right through the kitchen ceiling vent that went to Jackson's bedroom floor.  He had, in fact, peed on his door (again - this really does happen occasionally in our house) but this time it landed on the floor vent.  Making it rain pee in the kitchen.

Don't worry though, Jackson was fast asleep again in his bed by the time I opened his door.  I ran downstairs with an old rag for Josh to clean the pee up saying "don't use the kitchen towels!"  Round the corner and see Josh with the twinkle in his eye, half crouched over with the kitchen towels already in the pee.  Awesome.  Well, at least he was cleaning it I guess.

Josh cleaned the kitchen and I cleaned the bedroom.  Then we went right back to our spots on the couch as if nothing unusual had happened.  Because, in fact, this is a normal part of our blessed chaos.  I do think Jackson will be rushing a fraternity come college though, he's got it down already.