Today Calah at Barefoot and Pregnant posted a bit about homeschooling. It gave me some food for thought and instead of boring her with my lengthy ramblings in her combox, I decided to come to my own little house and blog about it.
She referenced this article, which I was all set to disagree with. And I did disagree with some of it, but not as much as I thought I would. I sort of get where the poster is coming from on some things - the idea that a mother can be overwhelmed by schooling a houseful of kids, as well as simply being Mom, and how it seems odd that some Catholic men seem to be using "woman who will homeschool" as dating criteria, possibly setting up some unrealistic and unfortunate expectations for the potential wife/mother. I kind of get that.
What I have been pondering this evening though, from the blog post above (not Calah's, but one she was blogging about), is this:
But really, let's be honest: homeschooling, even in the best of circumstances
is far from ideal. It's essentially an emergency situation. It is not a normal
state of affairs, and it is not, however much like you might like to believe so
right now, the best preparation for surviving in the job market. It may not be
the worst, but it's not the best, and in more cases than people seem willing to
acknowledge, it is downright harmful.
I think it's a pretty big overgeneralization to say that homeschooling is an emergency situation. I guess there are those who wind up homeschooling for "emergency" type reasons - out of fear of what their kids will be exposed to, or because of a bad experience at school, or because someone else expects them to do it.
I came to homeschooling from a totally different angle. I didn't plan to homeschool originally, but I also didn't turn to it to fix a problem situation or out of fear of what public school would do to my kids. Did I have reservations about the public school system? Sure. Did we have a terrible time there and I couldn't think of anything else to do other than homeschool? No. I don't feel like we're living in an emergency situation where all other educational options aren't so great so we're picking the lesser of all evils. I actually went into this with eyes fairly wide open, with some healthy skepticism and a big dose of faith.
See the thing is, I'm audacious enough to believe I can actually educate my kids well. Really well. And maybe part of my audacity is that I'm not looking to simply prepare them for the job market. I intend to go bigger than that. I'm trying to make them good thinkers and lifelong learners. I want to instill my love of books, my love of history, my love of discovery and my love of learning. (And I'm well aware they are going to have different interests and passions than I have - but the beauty is, they will have the time and freedom to explore those passions in a way that traditional schooling wouldn't otherwise afford).
Maybe I'm looking at it from a different perspective though. No one expects me to homeschool. It was totally my idea and I had to do a bit of convincing of the hubs to get the ball rolling. And where did it come from for me? Where did I get this crazy idea in the first place? Call me nuts, but I've always believed quite strongly that the Holy Spirit led me here. Yes, I am claiming a bit o' the Divine here. In a way, God told me to do it.
How's that for a ridiculous and hard to argue with reason?
But it is the truth. For me, homeschooling isn't an emergency fix for a school system that I find inadequate. It was a leap of faith that has proven to be immensely satisfying. Maybe I'm crazy, or arrogant, or a bit of both, but I think my kids are going to grow up to be well educated and well rounded adults who will be quite capable. A lofty goal? Perhaps. One I think I am capable of achieving? Yeah. I'll own that.
And there I go sounding like I have those crazy ideals the poster was talking about - ideals that aren't really achievable and only serve to make the mom feel guilty for what she isn't doing. Believe it or not, I'm actually quite realistic about what I am capable of and what we can accomplish both on the small and large scale. I read plenty of homeschooling blogs and see what amazing things some people are doing and I'm pretty good at filing away ideas that interest me and leaving the rest, forgoing the guilt of "I don't do it that way, therefore I must suck at this." We do what seems to be working for us and I think that is enough. I won't win any SuperStar Homeschooler awards, but much like the myth of the Supermom, I don't even want to try.
I am enough. I'm not perfect. My homeschool isn't perfect. But it's still awesome and my kids rock and I think I have this. Will I always feel this confident? Probably not. But that's where my reliance on faith kicks up a notch. If God led me here, I'm pretty sure I can trust His judgement.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Sick in body, sick in soul
I feel like every time I get sick, all I want to do is write about it. I didn't bother to go back through this blog (or my old one, which I don't think even exists anymore) to see how many times I wrote about the trials of being a sick Mommy. I'll even admit my tongue-in-cheek letter to "HR" the other day wasn't the first time I've written that, or at least a version of it. But I still think it's funny.
In any case, there's something about being sick that makes you so keenly aware of every sensation in your body. On a normal day, I go about my business not worrying too much about how my lungs are feeling or how my throat is so nice and, well you know, not hurting. I don't notice the lack of achiness in my back or limbs or the fact that my head feels, well, normal.
See, that's the thing - normal doesn't feel like much. It escapes our notice. It is the abnormal that draws our attention to our physical presence. My aching head, back and legs, they hurt. They scream sensation incessantly to my brain, as if sending the unending message of, "Pay attention to me!" through my nervous system. Breathing is noticeable because of the heavy, strained feeling of my airways, calling attention to the air as it flows into my body. Ordinarily, I don't experience the feeling of having lungs unless I think about it to take a deep, cleansing breath. Today I feel my lungs as oppressive and painful, sending a message of illness to my brain each time I draw in air.
It occurred to me today that there must be a spiritual connection to our experience of pain and illness. Not just that Christ suffered and therefore we can join our suffering to Him (although that is a pretty weighty concept). There's something to this awareness that illness affords. I am aware of sensations, bombarded by stimuli, bathed in a pool of messages from my body as it fights this infection.
It is a reminder to be aware - not just aware of my body, but aware of my soul. My soul is just as ill as my body is, only in a few days my body will feel better, but my soul will still be steeped in illness. And like a mother who gently strokes the forehead of her feverish child, God reaches out to me to stroke my forehead and help me find the strength to heal. But it isn't my body that worries him nearly as much as my soul - fever or no. The pain in my body is but a mirror to that of my soul and the illness I feel is only a fraction of that which haunts the spirit that is me, the whole of who I am.
I have a natural tendency to try to find God in bad things because I'm convinced it can be done, and because it makes me feel better. In trying to find God in being hit with the flu while caring for three young children, I realized He is there not only holding my hand and stroking my feverish forehead as I have done for my own children, but asking me to look deep inside and see the pain that wracks my soul. And He asks me to work on fixing it.
Or I don't know, maybe I'm just too feverish to be making any sense.
In any case, there's something about being sick that makes you so keenly aware of every sensation in your body. On a normal day, I go about my business not worrying too much about how my lungs are feeling or how my throat is so nice and, well you know, not hurting. I don't notice the lack of achiness in my back or limbs or the fact that my head feels, well, normal.
See, that's the thing - normal doesn't feel like much. It escapes our notice. It is the abnormal that draws our attention to our physical presence. My aching head, back and legs, they hurt. They scream sensation incessantly to my brain, as if sending the unending message of, "Pay attention to me!" through my nervous system. Breathing is noticeable because of the heavy, strained feeling of my airways, calling attention to the air as it flows into my body. Ordinarily, I don't experience the feeling of having lungs unless I think about it to take a deep, cleansing breath. Today I feel my lungs as oppressive and painful, sending a message of illness to my brain each time I draw in air.
It occurred to me today that there must be a spiritual connection to our experience of pain and illness. Not just that Christ suffered and therefore we can join our suffering to Him (although that is a pretty weighty concept). There's something to this awareness that illness affords. I am aware of sensations, bombarded by stimuli, bathed in a pool of messages from my body as it fights this infection.
It is a reminder to be aware - not just aware of my body, but aware of my soul. My soul is just as ill as my body is, only in a few days my body will feel better, but my soul will still be steeped in illness. And like a mother who gently strokes the forehead of her feverish child, God reaches out to me to stroke my forehead and help me find the strength to heal. But it isn't my body that worries him nearly as much as my soul - fever or no. The pain in my body is but a mirror to that of my soul and the illness I feel is only a fraction of that which haunts the spirit that is me, the whole of who I am.
I have a natural tendency to try to find God in bad things because I'm convinced it can be done, and because it makes me feel better. In trying to find God in being hit with the flu while caring for three young children, I realized He is there not only holding my hand and stroking my feverish forehead as I have done for my own children, but asking me to look deep inside and see the pain that wracks my soul. And He asks me to work on fixing it.
Or I don't know, maybe I'm just too feverish to be making any sense.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Dear Human Resources,
Dear Human Resources,
I am writing in earnest, as I seem to have missed the memo describing the procedure for calling in sick. Perhaps my assumption of sick days is faulty, but in my previous occupations, at least a small amount of sick time was expected, and given. In my current occupation, of which I have been employed for nearly 7 1/2 years, I have failed to discover the means to actually taking advantage of said sick time, regardless of how ill I have become.
My duties do not seem to lessen in the least during an illness; in fact, they seem to increase exponentially as my underlings appear to be susceptible to similar outbreaks, usually at the most inconvenient of times, and expect me to take care of not only my own needs, but theirs as well.
I implore you - when I am sick, I have great difficulty completing the most basic of tasks. Case in point:
I assure you that performance of my job duties will rebound far faster if I am allowed just a small amount of sick time. If someone could reply and inform me of how to apply for such time, it would be greatly appreciated. I can guarantee that my job performance will improve in the following ways, if given adequate sick leave to recover from my illness:
I'd like to take this moment to emphasize that I adore my job and have no desire to give up my title of "Mommy" to these delightful little creatures. Thank you very much for your time.
Sincerely,
Claire
aka. Mommy
I am writing in earnest, as I seem to have missed the memo describing the procedure for calling in sick. Perhaps my assumption of sick days is faulty, but in my previous occupations, at least a small amount of sick time was expected, and given. In my current occupation, of which I have been employed for nearly 7 1/2 years, I have failed to discover the means to actually taking advantage of said sick time, regardless of how ill I have become.
My duties do not seem to lessen in the least during an illness; in fact, they seem to increase exponentially as my underlings appear to be susceptible to similar outbreaks, usually at the most inconvenient of times, and expect me to take care of not only my own needs, but theirs as well.
I implore you - when I am sick, I have great difficulty completing the most basic of tasks. Case in point:
- Homeschool expectations have dropped by a staggering 80% with reading being completed only 50% of the time and math a mere 25%.
- Laundry has gone from a stage 1 to at least a stage 7 in the last 24 hours.
- Dinner this evening consisted of nutritionally suspect items peddled by a creepy clown with a red nose.
- TV watching has increased dramatically, as my ability to cope with my charges has been reduced by at least 75%.
- Dramatic Mommy outbursts have increased by a factor of four, including the need to apologize to underlings for unreasonable voice-raising and multiple assurances that said bad mood is not the fault of the underlings. (At some point it may be prudent to make allowances for therapy in adulthood, in lieu of educational funding.)
I assure you that performance of my job duties will rebound far faster if I am allowed just a small amount of sick time. If someone could reply and inform me of how to apply for such time, it would be greatly appreciated. I can guarantee that my job performance will improve in the following ways, if given adequate sick leave to recover from my illness:
- Homeschool will once again proceed as planned and fun learning experiences will commence.
- Charges will be well fed nutritious food throughout the day.
- While I make no guarantee that laundry will revert to a stage 0 (as in, complete) well, ever - I can assure that the current discrepancy in clean clothes vs. dirty will be rectified to at least am 85/15 ratio.
- TV watching will go back to a far more reasonable amount and expectation of book reading and independent play will increase by 90%.
- Perhaps most importantly, for it underlies the accomplishment of above objectives, Mommy Mood will improve from a -10 to a minimum of a 7, with spikes of 9 and above (especially on sunny days or with added chocolate).
I'd like to take this moment to emphasize that I adore my job and have no desire to give up my title of "Mommy" to these delightful little creatures. Thank you very much for your time.
Sincerely,
Claire
aka. Mommy
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Sitting at my computer, waiting for my Mom of the year award
Here I sit, lazily poking around Facebook, Pinterest, various blogs and message boards. It is about 5:00 pm. We recently got home from spending the day at Grandma's house. Upon returning home, I got my kids a snack, told them to pick 2 pieces of Easter candy, and promptly hauled my butt upstairs, sat down at my computer and have been more or less ignoring them for the last 30 minutes.
Mom of the year, my friends.
Actually, I'm only half kidding. To be completely honest, I'm feeling a little bit awesome right about now. After downing some strawberries and cheese, my kids wandered outside into the backyard (I can see them from where I'm sitting) and are digging in the rocks. They didn't beg me to turn on the TV, they didn't ask for computer time, they didn't assume they could play XBOX games. They found something to do and they are more than happy to entertain themselves for a while.
Things weren't always like that around here.
A while back, my husband and I decided to institute a no electronics before dinner rule. I wasn't happy with how much TV I was letting them watch, and they were starting to ask for the TV to be on CONSTANTLY. I mean good grief, every time we transition to a new activity or the day comes to a natural lull, we don't need to sit down and watch cartoons. It was totally my fault for letting it get to that point, and I was having a hard time being consistent with screen time. Some days I'd let them watch after lunch, some days not. Some days they could watch while I cooked dinner, some days not. With no consistent boundaries, they kept pushing, asking for TV more often. And my tendency towards being lazy often took over and I'd think, "Well, I don't really want them watching TV all day, but man it sure would be nice because they'd be quiet and leave me alone for a little bit..." So I'd give in. Too often.
Despite my son's exclamation that our new electronics rule was the "worst idea we'd ever had," the transition was rather smooth. After the first day, they quit pouting about it and just figured out other stuff to do. Amazing how that works - take away the mindless entertainment and they have to fend for themselves - and they do.
See, that's the thing - they do. I'm no supermom and I don't have magical, perfect children. But I also don't have kids that complain of boredom very often. Almost never, really. That wasn't always the case. I think their level of boredom complaining is directly related to their amount of TV watching - the more TV, the more they complain about being bored when the TV is not on.
I think it also helps that I have an expectation that they'll go off and play by themselves sometimes. I don't even attempt to keep them busy all day. The afternoons are often open, free, playtime. I don't orchestrate too much, I don't schedule too much. In fact, I kick them outside whenever possible, or at least kick them upstairs if outside isn't an option. "Go play!" And they do.
So as I sit here, relishing in a few uninterrupted moments of time before I cook dinner (granted, this doesn't always happen quite so nicely - they aren't even fighting and that isn't always the case!), I am feeling like I did something right. They should be able to go off on their own and find things to do some of the time. And even if I'm not exactly using this time in the most productive way possible (although I would also argue that a bit of downtime is necessary and good for anyone), I'm a little proud of the fact that my kids are more than capable of that unstructured free play that some kids seem to find so elusive.
Mom of the year, my friends.
Actually, I'm only half kidding. To be completely honest, I'm feeling a little bit awesome right about now. After downing some strawberries and cheese, my kids wandered outside into the backyard (I can see them from where I'm sitting) and are digging in the rocks. They didn't beg me to turn on the TV, they didn't ask for computer time, they didn't assume they could play XBOX games. They found something to do and they are more than happy to entertain themselves for a while.
Things weren't always like that around here.
A while back, my husband and I decided to institute a no electronics before dinner rule. I wasn't happy with how much TV I was letting them watch, and they were starting to ask for the TV to be on CONSTANTLY. I mean good grief, every time we transition to a new activity or the day comes to a natural lull, we don't need to sit down and watch cartoons. It was totally my fault for letting it get to that point, and I was having a hard time being consistent with screen time. Some days I'd let them watch after lunch, some days not. Some days they could watch while I cooked dinner, some days not. With no consistent boundaries, they kept pushing, asking for TV more often. And my tendency towards being lazy often took over and I'd think, "Well, I don't really want them watching TV all day, but man it sure would be nice because they'd be quiet and leave me alone for a little bit..." So I'd give in. Too often.
Despite my son's exclamation that our new electronics rule was the "worst idea we'd ever had," the transition was rather smooth. After the first day, they quit pouting about it and just figured out other stuff to do. Amazing how that works - take away the mindless entertainment and they have to fend for themselves - and they do.
See, that's the thing - they do. I'm no supermom and I don't have magical, perfect children. But I also don't have kids that complain of boredom very often. Almost never, really. That wasn't always the case. I think their level of boredom complaining is directly related to their amount of TV watching - the more TV, the more they complain about being bored when the TV is not on.
I think it also helps that I have an expectation that they'll go off and play by themselves sometimes. I don't even attempt to keep them busy all day. The afternoons are often open, free, playtime. I don't orchestrate too much, I don't schedule too much. In fact, I kick them outside whenever possible, or at least kick them upstairs if outside isn't an option. "Go play!" And they do.
So as I sit here, relishing in a few uninterrupted moments of time before I cook dinner (granted, this doesn't always happen quite so nicely - they aren't even fighting and that isn't always the case!), I am feeling like I did something right. They should be able to go off on their own and find things to do some of the time. And even if I'm not exactly using this time in the most productive way possible (although I would also argue that a bit of downtime is necessary and good for anyone), I'm a little proud of the fact that my kids are more than capable of that unstructured free play that some kids seem to find so elusive.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Needing a break
My kids are with me all the time. I'm a stay at home mom who now homeschools. Grocery store? Gotta take 'em with me. Costco run? Let's all go. Car needs an oil change? We'll all sit in that stinky waiting room that smells like a mixture of oil, exhaust and cheap coffee. They're my little side kicks. For the most part, this is a good thing. I'm not a perfect mom and I don't have perfect kids, so I won't try to make it sound as if life is always peachy. But overall, I do like things this way.
And sometimes I need a break.
Lately, I'm feeling the strain of having my kids with me all the time. My husband commutes a long way several days a week, so he's gone for at least 12 hours those days. Between that and homeschooling, things have been different this school year and I'm still working out the details of how to make that work (which, like I said, overall I love) without going completely crazy.
I'm feeling a bit batty these days and I think I figured out why. I need to work out. I don't just need to work out, I need to work out in a place and at a time when my kids aren't trying to play with hot wheels cars on the running treadmill or climbing on my back while I attempt a push up (no sir, I am not that strong), or asking me 800 billion questions during the first song on my workout playlist.
My old routine was to workout in the morning, after school drop off. I'd drop off whoever had school that day, take whoever was left with me to the gym, plop them in the nursery and take a class, hit the free weights, whatever. Sixty minutes of bliss. But that routine doesn't work anymore. Mornings are when we do school at home, and I don't think changing that would be a good idea.
Since we started homeschooling, I've tried a few things to get my workouts in - none very successfully. My first solution was to get up at 6am and go to the gym before everyone got up. That had less than stellar results. I am not a morning person. I don't even know what that would be like - to wake up chipper, ready to jump out of bed and get moving. I have to set at least two alarms because the first one never gets me up. I'd have every intention of getting up and going to the gym, but when the alarm went off, I'd find all kinds of reasons why sleeping was a better idea. Then I found myself feeling guilty at night because I'd stay up later than I should, so I'd go to bed feeling kind of anxious, knowing that horrible alarm would be going off long before I was ready for it. And I'd spend my days feeling guilty for not having gotten up and working out, promising myself I would do better, go to bed earlier and get up the next morning - only to stay up a little too late, go to bed feeling anxious, rinse repeat. It wasn't exactly a healthy scenario.
I scrapped the gym, tried working out at home, which meant I could sleep a little later. That didn't work much better.
Then I got a little smarter, and decided to quit doing the same thing over and over. I figured since I wasn't going to the gym anyway, why not just work out in the afternoon, at home. I could get in a quick workout while my daughter was napping. The boys are used to having some downtime during her nap anyway, so all I'd have to do is pry myself away from the Internet, throw on some workout clothes and get to it.
That kind of works. The problem is, my kids are there. In my face. Constantly. They ask questions, want to show me things, want to workout with me, try to play with things on the treadmill and generally make me crazy. Yes, I can get the physical part of the workout done. But the mental release I need? Not so much. I need more than just the workout - I need some space.
The other problem is that I do a lot better with someone telling me what to do. If I know I have a class to get to, I'll go. I'll be on time, I'll workout really hard and I'll love it. Working out on my own is a lot harder. I know how, I have done it plenty in the past, and I can make it work if I have to. But I miss the class setting, particuarly with someone else telling me what to do.
Bottom line, I need to get back into the mentality of scheduling things around my workout time. I used to approach my day that way. If things interfered with my workout time, they had to go. I didn't join my church's mom's group because it met at 10:00 on Mondays. Workout time. We didn't go to morning storytime at the library very often because it was at 9:30. Workout time. Now, I schedule everything based on our homeschool and my workout time has gone by the wayside. For my physical and mental health, I need to find a way to get that time back in a way that is productive, not only for my body, but for my sanity.
Like I told a friend, I need to get back to going to the gym and having someone kick my ass for an hour. It makes me a better mom.
And sometimes I need a break.
Lately, I'm feeling the strain of having my kids with me all the time. My husband commutes a long way several days a week, so he's gone for at least 12 hours those days. Between that and homeschooling, things have been different this school year and I'm still working out the details of how to make that work (which, like I said, overall I love) without going completely crazy.
I'm feeling a bit batty these days and I think I figured out why. I need to work out. I don't just need to work out, I need to work out in a place and at a time when my kids aren't trying to play with hot wheels cars on the running treadmill or climbing on my back while I attempt a push up (no sir, I am not that strong), or asking me 800 billion questions during the first song on my workout playlist.
My old routine was to workout in the morning, after school drop off. I'd drop off whoever had school that day, take whoever was left with me to the gym, plop them in the nursery and take a class, hit the free weights, whatever. Sixty minutes of bliss. But that routine doesn't work anymore. Mornings are when we do school at home, and I don't think changing that would be a good idea.
Since we started homeschooling, I've tried a few things to get my workouts in - none very successfully. My first solution was to get up at 6am and go to the gym before everyone got up. That had less than stellar results. I am not a morning person. I don't even know what that would be like - to wake up chipper, ready to jump out of bed and get moving. I have to set at least two alarms because the first one never gets me up. I'd have every intention of getting up and going to the gym, but when the alarm went off, I'd find all kinds of reasons why sleeping was a better idea. Then I found myself feeling guilty at night because I'd stay up later than I should, so I'd go to bed feeling kind of anxious, knowing that horrible alarm would be going off long before I was ready for it. And I'd spend my days feeling guilty for not having gotten up and working out, promising myself I would do better, go to bed earlier and get up the next morning - only to stay up a little too late, go to bed feeling anxious, rinse repeat. It wasn't exactly a healthy scenario.
I scrapped the gym, tried working out at home, which meant I could sleep a little later. That didn't work much better.
Then I got a little smarter, and decided to quit doing the same thing over and over. I figured since I wasn't going to the gym anyway, why not just work out in the afternoon, at home. I could get in a quick workout while my daughter was napping. The boys are used to having some downtime during her nap anyway, so all I'd have to do is pry myself away from the Internet, throw on some workout clothes and get to it.
That kind of works. The problem is, my kids are there. In my face. Constantly. They ask questions, want to show me things, want to workout with me, try to play with things on the treadmill and generally make me crazy. Yes, I can get the physical part of the workout done. But the mental release I need? Not so much. I need more than just the workout - I need some space.
The other problem is that I do a lot better with someone telling me what to do. If I know I have a class to get to, I'll go. I'll be on time, I'll workout really hard and I'll love it. Working out on my own is a lot harder. I know how, I have done it plenty in the past, and I can make it work if I have to. But I miss the class setting, particuarly with someone else telling me what to do.
Bottom line, I need to get back into the mentality of scheduling things around my workout time. I used to approach my day that way. If things interfered with my workout time, they had to go. I didn't join my church's mom's group because it met at 10:00 on Mondays. Workout time. We didn't go to morning storytime at the library very often because it was at 9:30. Workout time. Now, I schedule everything based on our homeschool and my workout time has gone by the wayside. For my physical and mental health, I need to find a way to get that time back in a way that is productive, not only for my body, but for my sanity.
Like I told a friend, I need to get back to going to the gym and having someone kick my ass for an hour. It makes me a better mom.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Bye, bye kitty
Last Friday we got home from my son's wrestling practice to find a lost or abandoned kitten. We got out of our van and the little thing ran across the street (there are woods behind the houses across from us - I suspect that's where he was), mewing loudly. He attacked us with kitty love as soon as he got to our driveway - twisting and turning around our legs and purring like a motor. The kids thought it was hilarious, especially when he followed us into our garage and clearly expected to be admitted inside. When I opened the door to let the kids in, he bolted into my house like he owned the place.
We have a cat, an adult male, and he was not particularly interested in this little upstart taking over his territory. So I grabbed the kitten and put him in the garage. My husband happened to call, so I told him about the kitten and he said something to the effect of, "We can't leave him outside," which I took to mean, "Let him in and take care of him."
Have I mentioned my husband does not like cats?
He tolerates my cat. In fact, he gave me my cat, but it was back in our infertility days and I think he brought home the kitty to make me feel better since we were having trouble getting pregnant. Since then, he hasn't exactly regretted that decision, but he has made it clear that he would strongly prefer not to have another cat once our current kitty passes on. I'm ok with that; I appreciate his gesture and his willingness to live with a cat this long (we've had him almost 10 years now), and even clean out the litter box each time I've been pregnant.
But a new kitten? Oh no, that was not in the plan.
This little kitten is quite honestly the sweetest, best behaved cat I have ever seen. My current cat rocks - he has a cool personality, he doesn't do many things that annoy my husband (other than sometimes scratching our carpet, which I admit isn't a good thing), he likes to be around us but rarely demands a lot of attention. But this kitten - oh goodness. So sweet! He clearly had never been around a toddler, because he didn't even know to be scared of my daughter. The kids adored him instantly, but I made it clear from the beginning that we either needed to find out if he was lost or find him a new home.
We kept him over the weekend and now we have out of town friends here, so life has been a bit crazy. So a couple more days passed and the kitten was still here. I briefly thought maybe my husband would decide it wasn't so bad to have two and let us keep him. But alas, it was stressing him out to have another cat in the house; just the idea that we'd be starting over with a new kitten and could expect another 15-20 years of cat ownership was too much for him. He thought about ways he might be ok with keeping the kitten and he was generous enough to talk it over with me (rather than simply saying no).
Ultimately he left the decision in my hands.
I didn't really want to be the one to make the call. It was easier when he said "No way," and I didn't have to take responsibility for the decision. But he said he'd be willing to keep the cat if I let him get a new XBox (LOL), and for a moment, I thought about it. My kids loved the cat and although I hadn't been planning on getting another cat (like, ever), I would have kept this one in a heartbeat. But I realized, that wouldn't be the right call. My husband might be willing, out of emotion (mostly at seeing our son's sad eyes every time we told him we couldn't keep him), to keep the kitten. But he'd resent it later. About the time our other cat died, I'm sure it would rankle him to no end that we still were cat people. And I just couldn't do it.
Today I took the cat to a no-kill shelter where he'll be available for adoption (after asking around and finding no one I knew who wanted a kitten). I have no doubt he'll be adopted quickly. He's not a brand new kitten, but he's still little, adorable and ridiculously sweet. It was heartbreaking to leave him there - he was scared and mewing at me the whole time. He had adopted us the moment I let him in the house - from the first 10 minutes he acted as if he belonged with us. It was hard to let that go.
But I realized that my emotion over this cat, and my perception of the cat's emotions towards me, was far less important than the feelings of my husband. I had to honor him in this.
I cried as I left the shelter this morning, and my heart is still a little sad. My kids have mostly gotten over it already, although my oldest son wants to print out the picture we took of the kitten and put it up in his room. But I know even the sadness in his sensitive little soul will pass. I made sure to talk with them about how it was good that we rescued him and now he can go to his forever family and be a happy little kitten.
I am trying to be content with knowing I did the right thing for our family. It hurts and truthfully, my husband doesn't understand my emotions over this situation at all. He probably doesn't appreciate how much it feels like a sacrifice to me. But that isn't the point, I guess. As much as I'd kind of like to be dramatic about it and tell my husband that I cried and make him feel bad for making me get rid of the kitty (just being honest here), I know that isn't the right thing to do.
I'll go hug my cat and move on. (And then wash my hands, because the other truth is that I'm mildly allergic to cats anyway. Sigh.)
We have a cat, an adult male, and he was not particularly interested in this little upstart taking over his territory. So I grabbed the kitten and put him in the garage. My husband happened to call, so I told him about the kitten and he said something to the effect of, "We can't leave him outside," which I took to mean, "Let him in and take care of him."
Have I mentioned my husband does not like cats?
He tolerates my cat. In fact, he gave me my cat, but it was back in our infertility days and I think he brought home the kitty to make me feel better since we were having trouble getting pregnant. Since then, he hasn't exactly regretted that decision, but he has made it clear that he would strongly prefer not to have another cat once our current kitty passes on. I'm ok with that; I appreciate his gesture and his willingness to live with a cat this long (we've had him almost 10 years now), and even clean out the litter box each time I've been pregnant.
But a new kitten? Oh no, that was not in the plan.
This little kitten is quite honestly the sweetest, best behaved cat I have ever seen. My current cat rocks - he has a cool personality, he doesn't do many things that annoy my husband (other than sometimes scratching our carpet, which I admit isn't a good thing), he likes to be around us but rarely demands a lot of attention. But this kitten - oh goodness. So sweet! He clearly had never been around a toddler, because he didn't even know to be scared of my daughter. The kids adored him instantly, but I made it clear from the beginning that we either needed to find out if he was lost or find him a new home.
We kept him over the weekend and now we have out of town friends here, so life has been a bit crazy. So a couple more days passed and the kitten was still here. I briefly thought maybe my husband would decide it wasn't so bad to have two and let us keep him. But alas, it was stressing him out to have another cat in the house; just the idea that we'd be starting over with a new kitten and could expect another 15-20 years of cat ownership was too much for him. He thought about ways he might be ok with keeping the kitten and he was generous enough to talk it over with me (rather than simply saying no).
Ultimately he left the decision in my hands.
I didn't really want to be the one to make the call. It was easier when he said "No way," and I didn't have to take responsibility for the decision. But he said he'd be willing to keep the cat if I let him get a new XBox (LOL), and for a moment, I thought about it. My kids loved the cat and although I hadn't been planning on getting another cat (like, ever), I would have kept this one in a heartbeat. But I realized, that wouldn't be the right call. My husband might be willing, out of emotion (mostly at seeing our son's sad eyes every time we told him we couldn't keep him), to keep the kitten. But he'd resent it later. About the time our other cat died, I'm sure it would rankle him to no end that we still were cat people. And I just couldn't do it.
Today I took the cat to a no-kill shelter where he'll be available for adoption (after asking around and finding no one I knew who wanted a kitten). I have no doubt he'll be adopted quickly. He's not a brand new kitten, but he's still little, adorable and ridiculously sweet. It was heartbreaking to leave him there - he was scared and mewing at me the whole time. He had adopted us the moment I let him in the house - from the first 10 minutes he acted as if he belonged with us. It was hard to let that go.
But I realized that my emotion over this cat, and my perception of the cat's emotions towards me, was far less important than the feelings of my husband. I had to honor him in this.
I cried as I left the shelter this morning, and my heart is still a little sad. My kids have mostly gotten over it already, although my oldest son wants to print out the picture we took of the kitten and put it up in his room. But I know even the sadness in his sensitive little soul will pass. I made sure to talk with them about how it was good that we rescued him and now he can go to his forever family and be a happy little kitten.
I am trying to be content with knowing I did the right thing for our family. It hurts and truthfully, my husband doesn't understand my emotions over this situation at all. He probably doesn't appreciate how much it feels like a sacrifice to me. But that isn't the point, I guess. As much as I'd kind of like to be dramatic about it and tell my husband that I cried and make him feel bad for making me get rid of the kitty (just being honest here), I know that isn't the right thing to do.
I'll go hug my cat and move on. (And then wash my hands, because the other truth is that I'm mildly allergic to cats anyway. Sigh.)
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Insanity. Or, I am not a morning person.
You know that old saying about the definition of insanity? I don't know who really said it, but "doing the same thing repeatedly expecting a different result," - yeah, it does sound a wee bit nutty, yes?
I have been hitting my head against the wall since September, trying to turn myself into a motivated and energetic morning person. Since I decided to homeschool, I've had to rethink a lot of things. Most things have fallen into place and we've gotten into a great routine. The missing piece of that puzzle, however, is fitness. I have not worked out consistently since last summer and it is getting ridiculous.
What does this have to do with mornings (and my disdain for them)? I figured the only time I would be able to get in a workout would be early in the morning, before everyone else is up. I don't like getting up early, but I decided I would make it work somehow. What choice do I have? I can't get to the gym after breakfast - I'm no longer dropping kids off at school, and school time is, in fact, right when I used to get my workouts in. A worthy sacrifice, I love homeschooling. However, said workouts have to occur sometime. Mid-morning no longer works, then the kids need lunch, then there isn't much time between lunch and naptime, and after naptime, well it's late afternoon by then. The childcare at my gym isn't open all day, and the YMCA, where I used to workout, doesn't have childcare for kids over 6 (and I have a 7 year old). Evenings are full with dinner, some family time, bed for the kids, then I work for at least an hour. Squeeze in some time with the hubs, and that's a day folks. No skittering off to the gym for me.
The thing is, I have to workout. It isn't optional for me. It isn't just about physical fitness. Yeah, I want to be healthy and looking good would be nice too. But I simply feel so much better when I'm in shape. I'm calmer, more energetic, and simply a lot happier. I don't have big energy slumps in the afternoon, little aches and pains that trouble me disappear, my hormones are more balanced... the list goes on. So after six months of workouts that have been intermittent at best, I'm feeling the effects. And it isn't pretty.
The insanity part? I decided I had to workout in the mornings and I've been trying. Really, I have. But I am not wired to get up early. I wish I were! I wish I was one of those people who could jump out of bed at the first beep of the alarm, ready to lace up my running shoes and hit the treadmill. That just isn't me. I'm not a stay-up-all-night kind of gal, but if I could go to bed sometime between 11 and midnight and sleep until 8-ish, that would seem like a very civilized schedule to me. It isn't just about the number of hours I sleep either. I could sleep for 10 hours, but if those 10 hours end at 6:00 am, I will still have one heck of a time rolling out of bed. So here I am, with six months of trying to get up at 6:00 to go to the gym, and successfully doing so less than half the time - if that. Gee, why are all my jeans so tight?
I'm going to stop the insanity. I'm not going to workout in the mornings. It stresses me out because each night, I watch the clock tick past 10, and I know the later I stay up, the less likely it is I'll get up when my alarm goes off. I go to bed feeling anxious because I know I'm not going to get up, and I spend the next day feeling guilty because I didn't.
I'm giving up on going to the gym for a while. I've been working out at home for the most part anyway, so I may as well accept that home workouts are my thing for a while, embrace it, and plan a routine for myself that I stand some chance of sticking with. I'll carve out some time to workout after I put my daughter down for a nap. It isn't always easy to muster the motivation in the afternoon, and it will (gasp!) cut down on my Internet time. But something's gotta give. I need to embrace who I am, how I'm wired, and work with it, instead of trying to fight it - and losing. I'm not getting anywhere with that.
So here's to new routines and, hopefully, jeans that start to fit right again.
I have been hitting my head against the wall since September, trying to turn myself into a motivated and energetic morning person. Since I decided to homeschool, I've had to rethink a lot of things. Most things have fallen into place and we've gotten into a great routine. The missing piece of that puzzle, however, is fitness. I have not worked out consistently since last summer and it is getting ridiculous.
What does this have to do with mornings (and my disdain for them)? I figured the only time I would be able to get in a workout would be early in the morning, before everyone else is up. I don't like getting up early, but I decided I would make it work somehow. What choice do I have? I can't get to the gym after breakfast - I'm no longer dropping kids off at school, and school time is, in fact, right when I used to get my workouts in. A worthy sacrifice, I love homeschooling. However, said workouts have to occur sometime. Mid-morning no longer works, then the kids need lunch, then there isn't much time between lunch and naptime, and after naptime, well it's late afternoon by then. The childcare at my gym isn't open all day, and the YMCA, where I used to workout, doesn't have childcare for kids over 6 (and I have a 7 year old). Evenings are full with dinner, some family time, bed for the kids, then I work for at least an hour. Squeeze in some time with the hubs, and that's a day folks. No skittering off to the gym for me.
The thing is, I have to workout. It isn't optional for me. It isn't just about physical fitness. Yeah, I want to be healthy and looking good would be nice too. But I simply feel so much better when I'm in shape. I'm calmer, more energetic, and simply a lot happier. I don't have big energy slumps in the afternoon, little aches and pains that trouble me disappear, my hormones are more balanced... the list goes on. So after six months of workouts that have been intermittent at best, I'm feeling the effects. And it isn't pretty.
The insanity part? I decided I had to workout in the mornings and I've been trying. Really, I have. But I am not wired to get up early. I wish I were! I wish I was one of those people who could jump out of bed at the first beep of the alarm, ready to lace up my running shoes and hit the treadmill. That just isn't me. I'm not a stay-up-all-night kind of gal, but if I could go to bed sometime between 11 and midnight and sleep until 8-ish, that would seem like a very civilized schedule to me. It isn't just about the number of hours I sleep either. I could sleep for 10 hours, but if those 10 hours end at 6:00 am, I will still have one heck of a time rolling out of bed. So here I am, with six months of trying to get up at 6:00 to go to the gym, and successfully doing so less than half the time - if that. Gee, why are all my jeans so tight?
I'm going to stop the insanity. I'm not going to workout in the mornings. It stresses me out because each night, I watch the clock tick past 10, and I know the later I stay up, the less likely it is I'll get up when my alarm goes off. I go to bed feeling anxious because I know I'm not going to get up, and I spend the next day feeling guilty because I didn't.
I'm giving up on going to the gym for a while. I've been working out at home for the most part anyway, so I may as well accept that home workouts are my thing for a while, embrace it, and plan a routine for myself that I stand some chance of sticking with. I'll carve out some time to workout after I put my daughter down for a nap. It isn't always easy to muster the motivation in the afternoon, and it will (gasp!) cut down on my Internet time. But something's gotta give. I need to embrace who I am, how I'm wired, and work with it, instead of trying to fight it - and losing. I'm not getting anywhere with that.
So here's to new routines and, hopefully, jeans that start to fit right again.
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