Weepy, No Sleepy

Where to begin? I could tell you my computer is dying, which it is, and that is why I haven't been blogging or reading or commenting.

But that would be only part of the truth.

You see, while I would like to write about my piece of crap computer, tell you my feet are so rough they could cut glass, or maybe just slap up a picture of how stinkin' cute my kids looked on the first day of school, that would be a cop out.

Because that's not all that's been going on.

Here's the thing. I've been crying. A lot. Ugly, snot-squirting, heaving crying. In public it's more of a "Please don't ask me how I'm doing or I'll start crying," kind of sniffle accompanied by bloodshot eyes.

I have cried at home, in front of customers, in the seltzer aisle at Giant Foods, at my kids' school open house, in the car, and today, during a all-staff meeting at work. Yep.

Lest you think someone has passed away, I need to admit I've been crying over where to send my daughter to school this year. Yes, I'm sure it seems like we solved that issue a couple of weeks ago, right? Wrong.

Is today September EIGHTH? Oh yes it is. Has school already started? Oh yes it has.

I know this sounds a bit crazy, because, well, it is. I am a 40 year old woman who has experienced traumatic life events and as far as I can tell, this should NOT count as one of them.

So why have I been thrown so off-kilter? Why can't I sleep at night? I don't know. If you were acting the way I'm acting I'd want to give you a hug then a bitch-slap across the face, "Get a hold of yourself, Woman!" I know. I know.

I think my weeping, like a lot of things in my life, is rooted in fear:

Fear of making the wrong choice.
Fear of failing as a mother.
Fear of not challenging my daughter enough.
Fear of challenging my daughter too much.
Fear of too little structure.
Fear of legalism.
Fear of not having the faith to send my daughter to a Christian school.
Fear of not having the faith to send my daughter to a public school.
Fear of my daughter joining an oral sex ring in middle school because her mother chose public school.
Fear of my daughter joining an oral sex ring in middle school because her mother chose private school.
Fear that my daughter will find my blog and ask me what an oral sex ring is.
Fear of MY not belonging in either school community.
Fear of being a crazy flip-flopping mother who moves her kids around every year, or perhaps every day.
Fear of doing lasting damage.

Do you get the picture?

Mental health has always been my strong suit. I am practical. I am great in a crisis. I am steady.

So now picture me, snuffling in the bathroom, summoning the courage to tell my daughter I've changed my mind yet again and she's going back to public school this very morning when a little hand knocks at the door. There she is, in her stinkin' cute prepped-out uniform ready to go to private school, lunch bag in hand. What could I do? I put on my sunglasses, snapped some pics, and took her to school.

I think the root issue here is responsibility.

Throughout my temporary (I hope!) insanity, my deepest despair, and my deepest cry has been, "This is just too much for me!"

The responsibility of being a mother just seems like too, too much sometimes.

As a Christian, I am supposed to realize I am not in control. When I "get" this, I am free. But I so seldom get it. And lately I've been too tired and too weepy to even believe it.

I have so much that I want. I want a husband who will make the decision, so I don't feel like it's all on my head-- but only if it's a decision I agree with. I want a mom who will hold me close and tell me I'm doing a good job. I want a God to whisper in my ear that what is too much for me is not too much for Him.

Is this too much to ask?

And a good night's sleep, too.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Well, today was the big day! Molly switched from a 13 person class at a small private school to a 27 person class at our local public school. She was up early, dressed, bed made and ready to go. I was so darn proud of her.

The verdict? The bus was cool and a nice girl helped her in the cafeteria. We'll see how the year progresses. We have wanted to give public school a shot, and this seemed like a good opportunity to capitalize on the fact that she was excited about buses, bells, and picking out her own clothes. I'm not wild about our all being on different daily schedules, etc., but I hope it works out well.

I want to thank you for your prayers and kind thoughts today. They helped.

Jake doesn't start school until tomorrow... which meant a drastic change in look per the private school hair code.

Old Look:

Doesn't he look so happy?

New Look:


I felt like I was witnessing the 5 stages of grief on his face as he sat in the barber chair. This is right after Depression but well before Acceptance.