Sandra Tayler's Blog, page 86

Things I am Stressed About

I have decided that rather than letting all these thoughts swirl around in my head, I will pin them to a list. Once I make them hold still I have a better chance of figuring out which ones actually need my attention.

Gleek goes to camp next week. This will be her first away from home, away from family experience. I’m sure she’ll have a fantastic time and that all will go well, but it hasn’t gone well yet. My brain keeps worrying over Things Which Could Go Wrong much in the way that a dog will worry at a favorite chew toy.

Kiki has not yet finished her big summer commission. She is completely capable of doing it. It is her job. She is handling it responsibly and making steady progress. She is going to get this done on schedule. Yet my brain can’t stop tracking the progress and noting that it is not yet complete.

School is coming. I don’t know how the onset of school is going to unsettle everyone. I’m gathering my mental energy to try to launch us into the new school year, but it is not launch time yet. So that pent up energy keeps getting funneled into “preparing for school” which probably doesn’t need that much focused energy.

Money. The finances are actually fine. Before the end of the month we’ll have sales from two large conventions. However we’ll also have bills attached to those conventions. My brain keeps trying to reach out and do future math to balance estimated sales against probable bills. The truth is that my inner financial squirrel is never happy unless she has enough money stashed away to pay all of the incoming bills for the entire rest of the year.

Laundry.

Gardening. I thought I’d do a better job of getting outside regularly to keep my few flower beds under control. Instead they’re currently overgrown and weedy. This makes me alternately sad and grouchy.

Organization in various stages of completion. I’m still in process on a lot of organizational tasks. Unfortunately this means that I have boxes or objects stacked in odd corners around my house waiting for me to find the time to send them to their final destinations.

Cleaning. I did lots of cleaning in the past few weeks. Unfortunately the new cleanliness of some areas makes me see the mess in other areas. I keep seeing it and I keep not getting around to getting it done.

Writing. For the most part my writing brain is locked down so tight I can’t even see what is in there. I keep feeling like I ought to be opening it up. I ought to be airing out those thoughts and starting to mentally prepare for the writing retreat at the end of September. But digging into that tight knot feels difficult and scary. I’m afraid that it will be pandoras box, filled with all sorts of emotional stuff that I’ll have to dodge, manage, or internalize.

My brain continues to spin trying to convince me that I chose wrong in deciding to go to the retreat.

Link has turned another developmental corner. He and I spent over an hour last night talking about friends and friendship. Link is beginning to learn that the shape of his childhood friendships is no longer enough. He needs friends he can talk to about grown up things, but he is only just learning how to do that. I’m completely confident that he will work this out and find his people. He may even discover that many of his childhood friends are his people. But the process is going to be difficult and I can’t make it any easier. I just get to watch, throw out advice where he can grab it if he wants, and then wait for him to sort it out himself.

I need to go to the doctor for another thyroid check up. I don’t want to have to deal with it. I just want to find medical stability and hide there for awhile. I want a month where no one has illnesses or pain. I want a month without an excess of psychology to navigate. I want calm, order, and work done.

Food. Why can’t healthy food just materialize in front of me without me having to think it up and perform the work necessary to bring it into being?

Next week I’m expecting four hundred pounds of t shirts. I’m going to have to turn around and ship about half of those out to customers. So next week is a big shipping week. The GenCon shipments are all done, but World Con shipments also need to go out asap. I keep kicking myself for not getting the WorldCon shipping done last Monday when I meant to do it. All week long a piece of my brain has been berating me for not getting it done.

There is probably more, but I’ve got children hovering and asking what I’m going to make for dinner.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

Lessons Learned Because of a Water Park Pass

We were given family passes to the local water park as a Christmas gift. These passes also include other area attractions, so we’ve been putting them to good use. However the existence of the passes meant that I had to find the energy and mental fortitude to brave the crowds at the local water park. We did and had a good time. After the first trip the kids spent the trip home full of plans for the next time. Today was our next time. We went again and had fun again, but several interesting things happened. The kids did not feel intense about getting to do every single new thing. They were much more willing to settle down with a preferred activity. As a result we didn’t have to do as much negotiating. Also, when it was time to leave, the kids didn’t argue. They remembered last time, how crowded and hot things got as the afternoon progressed. Going home was just the end of this outing, not the last view of the water park forever.

It got me thinking about scarcity and expense. When a trip to the water park is a rare event, there is pressure to make the most of it. This is particularly true if the expense is high relative to the budget. A once-per-year special trip is more likely to be filled with stress, crankiness, and sunburns as everyone stays longer than optimal for enjoyment. As I walked out of the park, I could see it in the faces of the other park visitors. Some of them were determined others relaxed. I’m becoming quite enamored of multiple relaxed trips instead of once-in-a-lifetime special trips. On the way home the kids joked and laughed about food. They were not full of plans for next time. In fact, a couple of the kids said that they actually prefer regular swimming pools. This was music to my ears, because I do too. This is why in all the years previous to this one, we’ve not gone to the water park. Now the kids know that this is not something to lament. A couple of water park trips are enough for a good long while.

The other thing I learned is that I don’t like to go down slides backwards. I much prefer to see where I’m going so that I can anticipate all the dips turns and drops. This should not surprise me as I spend so much of my life trying to anticipate what comes next.

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Bits and Pieces

Grief is stored in small, odd places. I bid my sister and her family farewell this afternoon. We hugged and I cheerfully waved as they loaded into the car. It was an hour later that I wandered into my kitchen to clean up and found the plastic cups with their names written on them in sharpie. (It cuts down on the “all the glasses are dirty” problem if everyone has an assigned cup.) As I threw the cups into the trash it hit me that they are gone far away and it will be a long time before I see them again. I miss them already, even while being glad to have my office back. I can cheerfully wave goodbye to the people, but throwing old cups in the trash makes me cry. Go figure.

I bought a cat carrier today. I have no plans to take my cat anywhere. I’m pretty sure she would not like the carrier at all. However last month when people all over Utah were being evacuated from their homes due to fires, I realized that in an emergency the only way we’d have to evacuate our cat would be in a cardboard box. Also, at some point we are likely to need to transport her to a vet. So now we have a carrier that will stay folded up next to our 72 hour emergency kits. Sometime in the next ten years I’ll either be really grateful to have it, or will finally know that I could have used that money for something else.

My house is really quiet. The kids have all retreated into electronic games and books. We all need some introvert time. Next week Gleek ventures out to an away from home camp and Patch has a half-day lego camp all week. My house will feel empty. I will probably spend that emptiness shipping t-shirts as they are due to arrive next Tuesday. For now, I’m trying to re-configure my house and my brain to focus on convention prep and school prep instead of extended family bonding.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

Thyroid again and a Conversation with Howard

Disrupted sleep. Easily stressed. Restless when awake. More than usual hair loss. Increased anxiety. Feeling like I’m neurotic/crazy.

It is time to get my thyroid tested.

Again.

Then it is time to talk to my doctor and see if he believes in the spontaneous healing of a thyroid gland a decade after it was damaged. I’m half convinced that the gland is still failing, it is just headed for hyperthyroid territory after dwelling in hypothyroid land for a decade. If it is, I’ll deal. We’ll treat the thing and I’ll be back on thyroid meds in higher doses. I’d just like to stabilize for more than four months in a row.

In happier thoughts, a conversation I just had with Howard:

Me: Our anniversary is on Sunday. This year you won’t be away at GenCon. That’s kind of nice.

Howard: It is. What do you want to do for it?

Me: Be married.

Howard: Again? We’ve done that for the last ninteen years.

Me: Yeah, I know. But I like it. It makes me happy.

Howard: Okay. We’ll do that.

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Parenting in View of Others

Spending time with relatives is sociologically interesting. My siblings and I were all raised in the same house by the same parents, yet there are some significant differences in how we parent our own children. Some of this can be attributed to natural divergence. Because we are each different people, we experienced growing up in different ways and learned different lessons as a result. The influence of spouses is huge in determining how kids are raised. The most fascinating aspect for me is trying to figure out which differences in parenting spring from the children themselves. My children and their cousins are distinct individuals and thus have trained their parents in different ways.

I am not the only one who observes these differences in parenting method. Sometimes I feel self conscious about this when my kids are not displaying their best behavior. Gleek wields anger as a shield. Her first reaction to stress is to be angry and assertive. As a result I’ve developed a host of parenting strategies centered around preventing anticipating angry outbursts and preventing them, or for controlling them and managing them when they occur. For years I worried that I was handling this wrong, but lately Gleek has matured and is co-opting these tools as her own. She is managing herself instead of me having to do it for her. That is a huge parenting success in my book. Yet one of my relatives did not comprehend the dynamics of Gleeks anger. Her kids did not explode in that manner and in all seriousness she asked “Can’t you train that out of her?”

I’m afraid my mind jittered to a halt and I was grateful that the conversation turned elsewhere, because the question was shaped in a way that expressed a miscomprehension of what was going on with Gleek. Gleek is not an angry person by nature. She is a highly empathetic and sensitive person. Often she gets angry because she is afraid that she is a bad person and does not want anyone else to see it. Being angry hurts less than being sad. If the anger comes from insecurity, then punishing her for angry behavior will only increase the insecurity and the anger. Instead we have to let her use the tools that come naturally to her. We weather the anger while making sure that it is not expressed in ways that do harm. Then when the storm has passed I help Gleek look into her mind and heart to find the real source of the emotion. This methodology means that sometimes there are public scenes with private resolutions. It means that other people witness the hard bits without fully comprehending the extent of the follow-up. Are there better ways to parent Gleek? Maybe, but this is the best way I’ve found. We’re making it up together as we go along.

I have similar parenting loops for each of my kids, they need different things from me and I strive to give them what they need. Sometimes this means that I spend time in a public space looking like a horrible parent. I can live with that though I never enjoy it. I try to remember it when I observe the decisions of other parents. I see my siblings and the disciplines they give to their children and sometimes I think I would not use the tactic that they are using. Yet if I feel inclined to judge, I try to stop myself and remember I am not seeing the whole picture. The public part of parenting is the tip of the iceberg and there are many ways to get it right.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

School is Coming

My kids schools have started sending me mail. The contents vary in detail, but the general gist is “School is coming, this is what you need to do to prepare.” I collected the letters and pinned them to my bulletin board because I wasn’t ready to think about it yet. Then I looked at my calendar and realized that August arrives half way through this week. School starts in three weeks, ready or not. So this morning I began thinking about the school year to come and talking to my kids about what we need to do in the next three weeks to transition smoothly.

Kiki is going to be a senior this year. I find it fascinating that the minute people hear this, they begin to ask all sorts of questions about career plans and then to spout advice. The only other time in my life that I’ve heard so much unsolicited life advice was when I was pregnant. The trouble is that people keep asking questions for which we do not yet have answers. This is not because we haven’t considered the issues, but because it is not yet time to have answers to those questions. I can’t tell you how we’re going to pay for college because I don’t know yet which school or what scholarships. Kiki is still considering schools and weighing options. She is still in the open possibilities stage of this process, the time of imagining her life in a hundred different ways. Yet all the questions are focused on narrowing down options and picking a path. As if picking a single path now determines her entire future. As if adults never change direction or readjust their lives.

Often I’m not actually a participant in these conversations about Kiki’s future, I just get to listen to them. Kiki does not seem to mind having them most of the time. Perhaps they are helping her see her choices. The truth is that I am not particularly stressed about college admissions for her. I know her and how competent she is. She will find a way through to good life solutions. Her solutions will be a better fit for her than any solutions that I can give her. It just falls to me to decide the quantity of financial support we can provide as she furthers her education. Those conversations and stresses will hit late winter. I’ll be stressed about it when the time is right, not now.

It is also possible that I’m in denial about how stressful this “applying for college” process will be. In which case I will snuggle my comfy denial close and keep it for awhile. My brain is already quite occupied with unpacking the school stresses that I put away last spring and now must pull out to examine. In the first few weeks of school I need to conference with Link’s teachers to make sure that his IEP reflects the diagnosis we made at the very end of last school year. We need to make sure that Link has the resources he needs so that he can take control of his life. Patch’s teacher sent a letter emphasizing the importance of multiplication tables. Those were the bane of his existence last fall and threw him into a pit of self doubt. I am hopeful that this new year will not trigger a similar emotional crisis, but I need to watch carefully. Gleek is headed into sixth grade. In Utah that is still elementary school, but the hormonal and emotional shifts which girls go through at this age can cause them to make really poor decisions. I’m not so much worried about Gleek choosing awry, but I really hope she doesn’t suffer because someone else decides to alleviate her own self doubt by being mean.

These are the thoughts that I shoved into the back of my brain last May and have not touched since. School is coming. It will bring me six hours of quiet house each week day. I’ll be able to re-separate my work time from my parenting time. That will be a blessed relief. School will also bring all of that other stuff. My fears will be appeased or shown accurate. My biggest fears revolve around the crisis that I don’t yet know the shape of, the new thing which shows up and blind sides me with its unexpectedness. Last year I didn’t know to worry about multiplication tables or a new diagnosis cycle. This year there will be something else. I can’t prepare for it because I do not know what it is. So I spend extra energy on the thing I do know. Patch will practice his multiplication tables and we’ll buy him new clothes because he shot up this summer. I’ll call Link’s teachers in advance of school starting. Gleek will go through the contents of her summer homework packet. In between all of that, I will take my kids out and do some fun things. We will try to grasp the last pieces of summer and hold them tight for as long as we can.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

After the Crowd

My mother used to say that the way to handle four kids easily was to have seven kids and have three of them be somewhere else. Since she did have seven kids, I guess she knew whereof she spoke. This evening feels like that. My sister’s family has been staying with me for over a week and at times the house has felt crowded. Adding five people to a household can do that. I also carried some internal tension because I feel responsible to take care of guests. Sometimes those two things combined with fatigue in unpleasant ways. Then my other sister came to stay overnight with her four kids. There were thirty-six hours of togetherness and activities. I felt on-duty as hostess pretty much all the time even though no one else expected me to assume that role. At four my second sister and her kids left. Those of the rest of us scattered into various pursuits and quiet games. Suddenly instead of being hosts and guests, we just relaxed. I wonder if this is a stage of an extended stay. I suspect it must be. At some point all the people in the household adapt and just begin to live around each other. Whatever it is, it is lovely. I can feel myself unwinding. Strange how a house with ten people in it can feel spacious and restful.

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Things Done and the Sound of Crickets

There is a chorus of crickets outside my window. I like them much better than the nest of hornets next to my front door. The crickets can stay. I’m trying to figure out how to eradicate the hornets since they’ve burrowed under the front porch in a way that I can’t spray the nest. I shall have to get creative tomorrow.

When I was not pondering hornets, I spent time cleaning my house and planning for GenCon. This first of the summer conventions hits in only three weeks. It seems like a long time, unless I need to ship merchandise inexpensively and have it arrived before the convention does. So this is my week of thinking ahead. While I have my thoughts wrapped around convention planning, I’ve also put some thought into WorldCon, which has different, but similar, requirements. I’ve got a list of people to contact and things to ship.

In many ways today was one long exercise in avoidance. The secret to getting a lot done is to have something else that I don’t want to do. I didn’t want to think about summer conventions, so I cleaned and focused on the guests in my house. But then I got tired of cleaning, so spent time contemplating hornets. Then it was time to make dinner, and in order to do that, my brain snapped into business gear and I planned all sorts of things about the upcoming summer conventions. Fortunately my sister made dinner while I was busy, so it was all good.

Now I’m sitting here in the evening with a long list of house cleaning chores, business tasks, and social plans, all of which I somehow think will fit into tomorrow. It won’t, but while I listen to the pleasant chirp of the crickets, I can imagine that it will fit. And the truth is that enough of it will fit that things will be fine. So I close my eyes and listen to the crickets.

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Pulling Things Out of the Closet

Little things can make a world of difference. I have been frustrated with my closet for years. The shoes were always in a jumble at the bottom. I thought about getting a shoe rack, but if my shoes took up vertical space, they would interfere with hanging space for shirts. So I kept having to rummage in the bottom of my closet any time I wanted to wear a pair of shoes that had been out of use for awhile. It was only a little bit frustrating, but a little bit of frustration each time begins to accumulate. A couple of weeks ago I was again rummaging for shoes and I felt sad that the rummage process sometimes squashed some of my more attractive shoes. In fact I’d taken to leaving my prettiest shoes in their shoe boxes to protect them. Except that exacerbated the rummage problem. This was when the light went on in my head. I have pretty shoes. They are intended to be decorative. They can be decorative even when I am not wearing them on my feet. I bought a simple shoe rack and put it out where my pretty shoes could make my room feel nicer. It worked. Every time I walked into the room and saw my pretty shoes lined up on their rack, I had a small happiness in my day instead of a small frustration. This week I’ve been doing lots of organizing and I realized that I’ve been hiding away other pretty clothing items which could be decorating my room. I’ve now fixed this.

My scarves and shawls look lovely hanging next to the shoes. The hooks are just adhesive hooks. They don’t damage the dresser at all. Even better, it only took me fifteen minutes combined to assemble the shoe rack and put up the hooks. My work shoes and snow boots still lurk in my closet, but I don’t mind if they get jumbled around.

I also pulled out my earrings where they can be admired.

To hang my earrings, I just used hot glue to affix a fabric mesh into a picture frame. Perhaps later I’ll find a prettier frame, but this works for now.

The hooks for Howard’s hats are not quite working yet, but it still gets them out of the closet and looks better than the jumble which used to adorn the top of the dresser. This picture does not do justice to the lovely warm brown of the top hat.

Bit by bit I am making my house a place full of small beauties and happinesses rather than small frustrations.

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Leaping

I was fifteen years old when I jumped off a cliff. It was a camp thing and the cliff was more of a very large boulder. I think there were about twenty feet from the top to the water below. From the beach I watched others jump and it looked fun. The view from the top was a different story. Yet I knew it was likely my last summer at this particular camp. Leaping let one enter the realm of the brave. Then I could be one of those who told others what it was like. If I did not leap, I would never know. So I walked to the edge. I contemplated. I stood back and prepared myself for the run up to jumping. One had to run so that the momentum would carry you out and into the deep water. I stood there, prepared to jump, for quite a long time. Others took turns before me and I watched them run, jump, and disappear over the edge. The splash and laughter would follow in only seconds. I took several large breaths. The muscles in my legs propelled me forward and the edge of the cliff came closer at an alarming rate. In the instant that I was to plant my foot and leap, some animal instinct in the back of my brain took control of my muscles. My legs froze. I suddenly knew that jumping off a cliff was crazy and completely at odds with physical survival. The momentum carried me over, not in a triumphant leap, but in a forward plunge. I was certain I was going to die. I was too close to the rock. The water was too far. What had ever possessed me to do such a thing? I do not remember the water striking my feet, but I do remember it closing over my head and the feel of the bubbles as they skittered over my skin toward the surface. That moment lasted a long time as I went deeper into the water. Then I began to rise, my limbs moved again, striking toward the surface. I splashed back into daylight, honestly surprised to be alive and uninjured.

Today I finally recognized why I am afraid when I contemplate going on a writer’s retreat. It is that moment with one foot planted on the edge of the cliff, water below me, but knowing that all my forward momentum is going to carry me over. It is that split second in which I think “Wait. I’m not ready for this” only it is already too late for me to stop. I recognize it because I’ve experienced it many times between now and when I was fifteen. The most memorable being the moment I realized that I was pregnant with my first child. I should take comfort, I suppose, in the fact that I did survive the leap off the cliff. It was even good for me. I have a story to tell based on extremely vivid memory. The parenting thing has turned out extremely well thus far. I like my kids. This bodes well for the writing retreat. Now that I’ve identified the fear, it does seem less. But fear is not logical and instinct tells me that the action I am taking could cause me harm. That is scary, but it will not stop me from leaping. Only time will tell if this is like cliff jumping, which I’ve never done again, or like parenting, which continues to be a daily part of my life.

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