When I was growing up, I remember seeing all my friend’s parents preparing for the holidays.  There would always be family coming in town and that meant lots of food to prepare, sometimes days in advance.  I watched the mothers in the kitchen and around the house, getting everything ready for their guests and I was always filled with a sense of sadness that no family would be joining us for the holiday season.  I grew up as an only child with a half-brother and half-sister growing up on the opposite side of the country where the rest of our family was located.  The result was usually a lonely holiday season magnified by what I saw all around me – other families coming together to celebrate.  I vowed that when I grew up, I’d have a big family and cook and get things ready just as the mothers I saw as a child.

Fast forward a few decades and here I am with my big family – 4 rambunctious boys, a husband, and usually another relative or two coming into town.  Sticking true to my promise, I’d start preparing weeks in advance.  I’d buy food, prep, cook what I could beforehand, and map out what needed to go into the oven and get made the day of.  Every year I’d make it through but instead of loving the holidays, I began to dread them.  My stress level and anxiety would go sky high and when it was all said and done, I’d breathe a huge sigh of relief and thank the stars that the holidays only came once a year.

I was not the glowing example of what I had seen in my childhood.  I was irritable, high strung, and well… let’s face it… miserable.  But every year I kept at it, hoping it would get better and I would find that inner peace and joy for the season.  Spoiler alert – it never came.

So this year I decided to do things differently and take what I have come to learn, and ultimately accept about myself, to heart.  For starters, I don’t handle stress well.  Extreme stress will usually trigger an episode.  So rather than fight this truth about how I am wired, I decided to work with it and do what I could to reduce the amount of stress I put myself under this year.  This meant letting go of one of my biggest dreams – cooking dinner for the family.  It sounds simple but for me this was a major loss and humbling experience.  I wasn’t going to be that glowing woman who got fulfillment from cooking.  I decided to order out from one of the local markets and got an entire meal (including breakfast!) for Thanksgiving.  The day before, my dad and I went to pick it up and I was already seeing the benefits.  I wasn’t panicked.  I wasn’t irritable and upset.  I simply felt prepared and ready for the next day.  Imagine that!

Thanksgiving turned out to be enjoyable, relaxing, and fun.  I had more time to spend with my family, a delicious meal, and the sense of failure I thought would come for not cooking up a storm all day never came.  The next day I didn’t feel a huge wave of relief that it was over nor did I deal with the dreaded exhaustion that always followed.  I was simply at peace for getting to enjoy Thanksgiving rather than survive it.

So I guess the moral of my story is this: Don’t be afraid to let go and redefine what you consider to be success.  Yes, it was a little bittersweet to let go of some of my dreams, but if I had continued to rigidly hold on to them, I’d only have gained another miserable holiday for the books.  Mental illness, and life in general, come with certain limitations – this is a truth.  And as often as I feel like I fight being bipolar, I am continually learning to make small adjustments in my life to help myself lead a more balanced life.  The result is gratitude in, frustration out!  And isn’t that what Thanksgiving is all about?

I wrote this back in August but am just now getting around to publishing it.  Welcome to our giant flop of a family getaway!

Good God I don’t even know where to begin.  There are several points in this story-telling where I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry.  Probably a little bit of both.   David had a kayak race in Galveston on Sunday and thought it would be a fine idea to make a weekend out of it.  The plan was to go to Houston and visit the Space Center the day before and then drive to Galveston the next day to race.  It sounded like a great idea and since we only get one weekend off together every couple of months, we decided to take advantage of it.  But our weekend getaway from hell started before we even got out of Austin…

David and I needed to drive separately this trip so that he could transport his boat.  I took the kids in the van and David tied to boat down to his car and we set off down the road caravan style.  On our way out of Austin, Owen (who has never been car sick in his life) decided to vomit his breakfast all over himself while we were driving in traffic.  It was awful.  I called David between my own dry heaves at the smell of it and told him that we needed to pull over and clean him up.  Thankfully David has a stronger stomach that I do and was able to clean up Owen while I cleaned out the bit in the car.  Owen seemed well enough afterwards so we tossed it up to the stop and go of the traffic and set off down the road again.  The drive was actually pretty and we stopped to eat a little way out of Houston before making our way into the city.  Since I have Navigation in my car, I was leading the way – which was our first huge mistake.  I HATE cities and I hate driving in them even more.  I missed our exit not once, not twice, but three times and called David in a crying hysterical panic over my mistakes.  He calmly said he would “Waze it” and passed me so that he could take the lead.  Unfortunately, my mistake added almost another 45 minutes to our trip because the next exits, where we could turn around, were closed.  Eventually we made it and David was able to successfully drop off his car and boat.  As we started driving to the Space Center, we realized that we were going to have to drive an hour south, which only meant that the next morning we would have to drive an hour North to pick up the boat, go another hour back down to where we started by the Space Center and then drive another hour south to Galveston.  It was going to add another 2 hours of driving to our day before we even started our trek back home.  By now the kids were complaining, I was drained from driving and mad about our poor planning, and we all just wanted to get to the Space Center.  Unfortunately, things would only go from bad to worse.

We arrived at the Space Center exhausted and HOT.  Houston heat is no laughing matter and just walking to the entrance from the parking lot was awful.  Once we were inside the AC perked us up a bit and the kids had a great time running around and seeing the exhibits.  Before leaving, we decided to take a tour of the NASA campus and see the giant rockets.  We went back outside to wait in line for the tram.  We waited… and waited… and waited.  I was drenched in sweat, thirsty, and feeling light-headed from the heat.  I spun around and told David that “If this f***ing tram doesn’t get here in 2 minutes I am done!  Finished!  Going back inside!”  The kids heard just enough of this to start complaining they wanted to go inside too.  And just like that poor Dave had 5 people hot, miserable, and begging to throw in the towel.  After all, it wasn’t crowded – this was just the result of extremely poor organization on the part of the Space Center.  Ten minutes later our tram arrived and we all piled in.  Off we went down the road and through the campus… which was nothing more than a bunch of beige buildings.  We stopped at several points only to hear that building number 46 is the site where something spectacular happened in the world on rocket engineering.  I thought the first few minutes were actually a joke but my spirits sank when I realized they were all serious and this was going to be going on for the next hour, all the while still outside in the heat.  After about 45 minutes of this, the tram made its final stop before going back to the space center.  We pulled up outside of a huge garage-looking building which was where the rocket was kept.  At this point, I was fuming with frustration.  I skipped the rocket and told Dave I desperately needed a drink and headed toward the vending machines by the bathrooms.  I tried the first one… broken.  I tried the second one… broken.  I tried the third one… broken.  In an almost blind fury I declared to hell with the rockets, I’m leaving!  I walked back across the field in the heat to the tram and started to go through the gate when I was stopped by the tram driver.  “Sorry miss, this is the exit.  You must walk back across the field to the entrance.”  I glared at him and then screamed at him.  “You know this whole NASA / Space travel thing???  It’s crap!!!  This whole place is bullshit!!!”  It was NOT my proudest moment.  I called Dave and told him through tears that I was taking off back to the space center.  Now Dave, who is usually steadfast and controlled, told me in his most angry voice that I had better get my butt back to the building (which had AC) and see the rocket so I could cool off.  Not wanting to have an explosive fight in the middle of a field, I begrudgingly marched towards the rocket building.  Once inside, the coolness was instantly refreshing.  The rocket was massive, intricate, and awe-inspiring.  However, I dare not declare anything like that to David.  I decided to take the low-road and exclaim that he dragged me all the way in here to see nothing more than a hunk of metal.

Back in the Space Center we were finally able to get our drinks, cool off and explore some of the neat things it had to offer.  After a couple of hours, we headed over to the hotel to check-in.  This process was fairly painless.  We were all happy, hydrated, and ready to relax for the rest of the evening.  The UT vs LSU game was coming on that night and I was looking forward to watching it.  We decided to go grab a quick bite at the Mexican restaurant down the street so that we could make it back in time for the game to start or at least shortly thereafter.  We all piled back into the van and headed down the road.  The restaurant was crowded but not overly so and our wait for a table of 6 would be about 20 minutes.  We sat down by the door and waited… and waited… and waited.  About 45 minutes later they told us our table was ready.  By this point the boys were starving and I was once again feeling the wheels of frustration turning.  But at least we were seated so that was ½ the battle.  After about another hour of waiting for our food, it finally arrived.  I began checking the UT game score on my phone and watched with sinking disappointment as the entire first half of the game slipped by and we were still at dinner.  Eventually, we got our check, made our way back to the hotel, turned on the second half of the game, and settled in for the night.

The night was not restful to say the least.  Owen, who always sleeps in his crib without a problem, found that sleeping with all of us in a bed was just too exciting.  He made his way back and forth and back and forth between the two queen beds in our room until after midnight.  After he finally fell sleep the night was filled with getting kicked in the face by Colin, Owen falling off the bed once, and trying to get comfortable on the little sliver of mattress that was left for me.  But we all got up and showered, ate breakfast downstairs, and set off to drive an hour North to pick up the boat before turning around to drive 2 hours back down South for the race.

The beach at Galveston was actually pretty fun.  Once we located where the race would be, we were able to drive our cars right up on the sand so there was to be no dragging of beach supplies across a massive parking lot. The waves were small and the water was shallow so I strapped some life jackets on the boys and let them go for it.  David took them all for a ride in his kayak while I kept watch over Owen on the sand.  We were there for about 4 hours total.  David finished his race well, the boys all played in the surf, and then we needed to pack it up to make the 4-hour drive back home.  The heat was oppressive once we were out of the water and drying off.  I was busy getting all the boys out of their wet swim clothes while David tied his boat down.  Getting four wet, sticky, sandy, and thirsty boys dressed with the sun beating down on you and the sand getting everywhere is not fun.  I was dehydrated once again, getting angry, tired, and was not looking forward to driving all the way back to Austin.  Owen spilled an entire bottle of Gatorade in the back seat of the car and all I could do is throw some towels down over it before pleading with an exasperated and desperate sounding yelp that everyone get their butt’s in the car so we can go!

Driving a long distance after spending hours in the hot sun are two things that do not mix.  We didn’t even make it through Houston before I started repeatedly nodding off on the road.  Now this has never happened to me before and at first, I didn’t understand what was happening.  Why am I having repeated attempts to maintain an alert level of consciousness, I wondered?  It took several minutes for me to realize, to my horror, that I was actually falling asleep at the wheel.  Terrified, I called David and told him I needed to find a coffee shop ASAP if we were going to have any hope of making it home.  Dave kept me on the phone, which helped tremendously and we made it to a Starbucks just outside of Houston.  I flopped out of the van while the kids waited inside and practically staggered over to the window (it was a drive-thru or walk-up window only store).

Me: “One large iced coffee, please.”

Employee: “I’m sorry, we are out of iced coffee.”

Me: a huge WTF running through my mind.

Employee: “Mam?  I’m sorry but we’re out.”

No longer able to hold it in any longer, I scream.  “YOU KNOW WHAT?!?!  THIS WHOLE THING IS BULLSHIT!  ALL OF STARBUCKS IS BULLSHIT!  HOW DO YOU RUN OUT OF COFFEE?!?!”  And I storm back to the car.  Once again, not my finest moment.

When it’s all said and done, we ended up at McDonald’s so the kids could eat and I could get my large coffee… and a coke.  We made it home the rest of the way without any problems at all and by 10pm we back safe and sound.

I must point out, if it wasn’t already obvious, that I am not the best traveler.  I am thankful for a husband that rarely loses his cool… unless a large, hunk of metal is on the line.  I have kids who forgive easily and seem to find joy and glee wherever they are.  I can look back at the whole story and laugh now but in no way shape or form am I ready to go out of town for our next weekend off together.  I think we’ll stay home and garden… or at least think about how we should really be gardening as we stare at the yard.  Same difference.

Like most big decisions, “coming out” about your mental health is one that needs to be made carefully and is oftentimes full of conflict.  I didn’t make the decision to disclose intimate details of my personal life to the world without going back and forth about it for months before and even months after I published it.  As much as I would like to give an enthusiastic thumb’s up to anyone debating on whether or not to spill the beans, I am far too aware that every person’s illness, family, employment, and belief system add layers upon layers of complexity to the issue.   So allow me to walk you through my decision-making process and you can decide for yourself if disclosing your mental health condition is right for you.

I work as a psychiatric nurse.  Ironic, isn’t it?  I work with patients every day who are in the hospital with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, borderline personality disorder, drug addiction, take your pick.  I work with psychiatrists, pharmacists, my nursing peers, behavioral health techs, and social workers all attempting to help these patients put the pieces back together so they can go home to their families and attempt to function in their lives again.  In short, I’m submerged in the world of mental health awareness and care.  My own bipolar disorder has been managed for a number of years now, which is what allows me to successfully hold my job, have a family, and go after what I want in life.  However, that management has not been without setbacks, hardship, sacrifice, and determination.  I have certain limitations I’ve come to accept and there have been times the veil that separates me from my patients, has been thin.  But at the end of the day, I’m just another member of the healthcare team that works to stabilize patients who for whatever reason, have ended up back in the hospital.

I don’t disclose my mental health information to my patients.  Ever.  There have been times I’ve been tempted to over the years, but ultimately it would not be therapeutic for them.  The veil that separates nurse and patient needs to be intact in order to provide the best care possible and disclosing personal information about myself would not only be inappropriate, it would blur the boundaries that are there for a reason.  Our patients are in the hospital because they need supportive care and a firm framework to help them rebuild.  Becoming their buddy isn’t going to help them recover.  Keeping this boundary is just part of the job.

What spurred me to open up to everyone else was more like a slow burning ember that just kept burning until the heat became distracting.  My coworkers oftentimes laughed and shared personal stories at work and there was real comradery between them.  I usually remained silent, guarded, kept my nose in my work.  There were many times I wanted to join in the conversation, but take my naturally introverted self and mix it with a very reckless past full of debilitating mania and crippling depression and it would just about scare anybody silent.  But as time went on, and I grew more confident and comfortable around my working peers, I started feeling less scared and more like I was living a two-faced lie.  On the surface, I was calm, quiet, and very pulled together but that was only a sliver of the truth.  The other side of me, the side my family and very closest friends knew, was very different.  I began to feel the daily burden of keeping quiet about my life experiences as a heavy weight on my chest.  This is when I began thinking about just letting it all hang out and writing about who I really was underneath it all and how my bipolar disorder has both helped and hurt me in my life.

If you’re going to disclose something deeply personal about your life, then you’d best be sure you’re at a point of unconditional self-acceptance with it.  This was a long journey for me.  I denied my bipolar disorder for well over a decade and it was only recently that I came to accept the fact I have this illness.  However, I reached a point in my life where I was able to look back at all my struggles with a clarity and wisdom that had been lacking in me for a long time.  When I saw the hardship, isolation, and grief I went through, I wanted to give to others what I never had – another person to say, “I see you.  You’re not alone.”  That’s what drives me forward.  It’s the fuel for everything I do.   Don’t forget to check your motives.  Why are you really drawn to tell others?  Is it for attention?  Validation?  Make sure you’re in it for the right reasons or your bound to end up with deep regret.

Self-disclosure cannot be undone.  There’s no saying, “You know what – never mind.”  Even when deciding to move forward with it, I had my brief moments of panic that I had made a terrible mistake.  I published my post at night with the thought that I could delete it in the morning if I changed my mind.  But when I awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and decided promptly that I had changed my mind, I was already flooded with messages of love and support.  That ended the uncertainty for me.  I knew then that I had lit a spark that might, just might, find the right person who needed to hear what I was saying.  Because in the end, this wasn’t about me, it was about you.  And I’m listening.

The days are finally getting a little cooler here in Austin.  An ideal day for me is to have highs in the 50’s or 60’s and while that has only happened a couple of times, it’s getting closer and that makes me very happy.  David and I are trying get ready for the holidays earlier this year so that there’s less last minute scrambling.  But right now after school activities, homework, and just keeping up with getting dinner on the table and everyone fed is taking up the majority of my energy.

We had some sad news earlier in the month.  David’s mother is battling Leukemia.  It’s particularly heartbreaking to be so far away at a time like this but David’s mom is blessed to have so many of her kids still living in Hawaii who are there to help every step of the way.  This is one thing I have always admired about David’s family.  Everyone helps.  Nobody needs to be asked or told what to do and somehow each person knows how to be uniquely supportive.  I’ve spent time just observing them all (there’s 8 of them!) trying to figure out how his parents instilled this trait in their children, but the exact formula still remains elusive to me.  I am only left to hope David and I do as good a job with our own children.  This news, of course, has led to some delicate conversations with our kids and a sense of sadness that lingers in the air through the midst of our routine chaos.

This past weekend David and I made a shoe rack for what I call the “shoe crisis” by our garage door.  We had a little store-bough rack that was no match for the amount of sneakers, cleats, and sandals that seem to accumulate by the door.  I got the idea from Pinterest and we set off to Home Depot to buy and cut the wood, choose the stain, and get the hardware necessary to make a sturdy, 4-level rack that was big enough to fit in the spot across from the garage.  I am actually quite thrilled with how it turned out!  I stained all the wood and David drilled the holes and helped put it together.  It was truly a joint effort and now we have the perfect solution to all those shoes! My mind has been spinning since last night thinking of all the other things we could build for our house but I am trying not to let my ideas get away with me since that was actually a fairly labor intensive task for us with all the boys wanting to run around and “help” with things they couldn’t actually help with.  But still, there’s nothing like the gratification of seeing something you’ve built put to use!

 

 

I debated on whether or not to write this post for a very long time.  I’d swing back and forth between feeling like I should just own who I am and throw myself out there until the pendulum would inevitably swing the other way and I’d revert back to the very private person I usually am.  But I’ve been doing some soul searching lately and come to the conclusion that I put up far too many walls for myself.  As a result, I end up holding back and remaining silent rather than reaching out and sharing my experience.  So in light of personal growth, allow me to tell you a little about myself…

I was about 16 when the symptoms first began.  I stopped sleeping.  Sometimes I’d be up for days without so much as an hour to get me through.  My mind raced so horribly fast that I could barely organize a single thought.  To cope with this feeling of the world not spinning as fast as I was, I began feverishly writing pages upon pages of poetry all night long until it was time for me to “wake up” and go to school. I started imagining plans to build businesses and make millions of dollars or perhaps I’d just flee the country.  After a while these thoughts became more bizarre and I thought I could control other people with my mind.  Eventually, I began hearing a voice at night calling the name of an angel who I knew was coming to lead me on a spiritual journey.  My brain was like a huge boulder rolling downhill gaining speed and momentum with each second and nothing was able to slow it down.  In later years, I’d abuse drugs and alcohol in an attempt to curb how fast everything was spinning for me.  My life felt far from my own ability to control.

This high would ultimately be followed by a crippling depression.  I’d withdraw, sleep all day, and fall into a deep pit of hopelessness.  I contemplated suicide daily – the only question being whether or not I was brave enough to pull it off.  These cycles continued for years until I finally managed to drag myself into a psychiatrist’s office, knowing I likely wouldn’t survive another depressive episode.  I was 19 years old when I was diagnosed with Bipolar I disorder.  With the help of supportive doctors and therapists, I was able to get stabilized on a medication regime that has allowed me to get to where I am today.  A wife, mother, nurse, and now advocate.

When I was first diagnosed, I had no idea what was happening to me.  I was scared, angry, and felt very much alone.  Next month, I will be giving my first presentation to a group of high schoolers about the stigma of mental illness.  We’ll cover all levels of topics from what is mental health and the warning signs of mental illness to suicide and how to cope.  I’m trying to give back to the community what I never had – someone who says, “It’s okay.  I see you.  You’re not alone.”  I’m trying to give my patients at work what I always needed – a nonjudgmental ear and understanding heart.  I’m trying to show people that you can make it through some very deep, dark places and still live a life worth celebrating.

My struggle is far from over.  Living with bipolar is something that feels very much in my face every single day.  This is a life-long condition and I will always have to work closely with a doctor for the rest of my life.  But for all those who are feeling alone today, I’m with you.  I’m asking you to celebrate what’s messy, uncensored, and raw. We can be brave and share our stories.  That’s what raising awareness is all about.

 

I am horribly behind on this blog.  I’ve been in the process of transferring posts from my old site to this one and all I can say is that I used to write SO much more.  Years ago I was writing posts sometimes twice a week and now I can barely manage a post once every six months. I transferred some posts from 2013 this afternoon and I must say that they were somewhat bittersweet.  William was still a baby and Nathan was getting close to receiving his autism diagnosis.  We were travelling, living in a miserably small apartment in Los Angeles, and just trying to survive day to day life.  David and I were both back in school and they were hard years for us.  As things would have it, you’d never be able to tell any of this from the pictures.  We’re all smiling while we celebrate birthdays and go on adventures, tactfully leaving out all the tears, scowls and exhausted expressions.  My mental health always hanging by a very frayed thread that at times would break and then get taped together as quickly as possible because there was no time to do anything else.

Texas has been good to us.  We’re no longer a family of 5 living in an apartment that could now fit in our kitchen.  We’re happy at work, making good friends, and really thriving here.  But as I look back at those old posts, I can’t help but wish I had taken some more pictures.  Pictures that depicted what life was actually like rather than always trying to leave everyone on a happy note.  So I guess I’ll leave this post without a picture.  Not every time in life is going to deserve a happy picture stamped on it.  Maybe tomorrow…

I have a tradition that I started about 10 years ago when the idea of going out and celebrating the new year by drinking until the sun came up seemed less than appealing.  I bought a pair of Waterford champagne glasses, a bottle of champagne and spent the evening reflecting, formulating, and writing what my new year’s intentions would be.  Then I’d watch the ball drop, have my final toast, and go to sleep.  I couldn’t handle the thought of “resolutions” since I’ve tried and failed miserably years prior to make a list of promises to myself and then watch as I would break every single one.  I figured that setting intentions was much more realistic since these were plans that I only promised to work towards rather than goals to either succeed in keeping or fail in despair.

I started out this New Year’s Eve completely set on celebrating in my usual fashion.  I stopped by the grocery story after work, bought a bottle of champagne and some appetizers, came home, and declared I was going to stay up until midnight no matter how horrible I felt the next day at work.  This all came to a screeching halt when I fell asleep on the couch at 10:30pm after two glasses and nothing written.  So I am starting over tonight!  Bottle of Champagne, Waterford glasses, pen computer in hand, and football on TV rather than a giant crystal ball!

The year 2018 was full of tough challenges for me personally.  I learned what my boundaries are and what I can and cannot ask of myself.  I worked on transforming my relationship with my kids from angry mother to connected mother.  I defined what I do and do not want out of my life, what I am willing to settle for, and what I’m not willing to compromise on.   I thought about future career goals and registered for my GRE to attend graduate school.  I realized I need to take care of myself in the same way that I take care of my children.  Gone are the days of running on empty without filling myself back up again.  And I came to learn some painful truths about how far I have to go and how much I have to learn about family, marriage, and myself.So for 2019 I only have one intention – to take what I learned from 2018 and apply it to this year ahead.  I woke up in a great mood, smiled throughout my day, and now find myself in an equally optimistic mindset as I write this.  2018 was full of so much learning and I can’t wait to see what wonderful things lie ahead.  Another year older and wiser has new meaning for me.  And if 2019 turns out to be tough, thanks to 2018 I now have the confidence to handle what comes.

True to form – William’s 6^th birthday was an absolute circus for us.  Things started innocently enough, as I got the boys up for breakfast before school.  William’s balloons were waiting for him downstairs complete with a giant number ‘6’ (a yearly tradition for all the kids to get a giant number balloon for whatever age they are turning).  As soon as we sat down to eat, Nathan began complaining he didn’t feel well.  He’s had a tendency to do this lately whenever we are about to do something he doesn’t want to do and then he’ll miraculously perk back up again when he gets to go play with his friends outside or do some other preferred activity.  Needless to say, I was not having it this morning.  We were in a rush, I was expected to read a book at William’s school that morning, buy cupcakes for the class, and had a bunch of other things I wanted to get done.

After getting all the kids fed, dressed, teeth brushed, and out the door, Nathan’s complaints continued.  I pressed on, determined that he was just being dramatic or wanting attention because it was William’s birthday.  After flying through the drop-off line and sending William off to school with an enthusiastic ‘Enjoy your special day at school!’ I continued forward.  I began to have the nagging feeling that Nathan’s continued complaints were perhaps real since he rarely complains this much unless he really is, in fact, sick.  I decided to change the plan and drop off Owen and Colin at preschool before taking Nathan to school since that would buy us a little more time to see if this was just a morning fluke or a real bug.  After dropping off the youngest two, my hopes that Nathan was just complaining began to dwindle.  In one last ditch effort to buy more time to assess the situation, I decided we would go to the grocery store to purchase the cupcakes I needed for William’s school.  No sooner had we walk into the market, Nathan proceeded to vomit all over the floor.  It was horrible.  But the silver lining is that next to the salad display there happened to be a roll of paper towels and I was able to clean the whole thing up before having to notify someone.  The good news is that Nathan seemed to immediately recover from any sign of illness after vomiting.  The bad news is that I still had to buy the cupcakes but didn’t want to risk him vomiting again at that point, especially now that we had blown through the only roll of paper towels in sight.

I did the only thing I could.  I took him to the outdoor table and chairs in front of the market café area and told him to stay there while I went to grab the cupcakes inside.  I figured Nathan was mature enough to wait there for 120 seconds while I grabbed what I needed.  I ran inside to get the cupcakes and checkout.  While in line I noticed a familiar looking woman who had already purchased her groceries, looking around the store rather concerned.  We made eye-contact and she asked me if I was the mother of the boy out front.  I said yes and held my breath, ready to be told that she was reporting me to CPS for leaving an 8-year-old sitting at a table in front of the store.  Thankfully, she just wanted to make sure he was ok and was as non-judgey as you can get.  She did tell me, however, that she asked him if he was alright and he told her that his mom had disappeared and he had no idea where she was – thanks Nathan!  What a way to make me seem like the most irresponsible parent ever!  I rushed back outside only to find Nathan not at the table but across the parking lot waiting in the car that I had forgotten to lock.  Fine.  Everyone’s alive.  Job well done, mom.

On to William’s school.  After getting home and showering all the vomit off my feet (yuck!), we headed back out the door to read at William’s school.  After giving Nathan a primer that he was to behave and NOT try and scare William’s classmates into thinking he was a zombie ( a preferred activity these days), we headed into the school.  I must say that this was a very pleasant experience. William absolutely loves school and his classmates are a very friendly, inquisitive bunch of kids.  I was worried that William would be jealous Nathan got to stay home from school but as soon as Nathan walked through the door, William jumped up and exclaimed with pride, “This is my brother!!!  He’s 8!!!”  The three of us got special seats in front of the class room and started our story of, ‘Jumping Mouse’.  It went well, although the story is a tad long for Kindergarten and their favorite part of the entire book was when I read the words “fat, old mouse” a few times.  After that it was lunch with the class and back home for Nathan and myself.

The middle of the day was uneventful.  I got a few things accomplished at home, got dinner in the crockpot, and made William’s cake.  Then the after school craziness started.  The boys were extremely excited about getting cake that night and stayed in a frenzied state of anticipation of sugary goodness and gifts for the entire evening.  By the time David got home, I was at my wits end and the boys were loud and running all around.  All this was made worse when Colin found William’s presents in the closet. At first, Colin insisted he was just going to carry them to the kitchen table for me but in the craziness no sooner did I turn around than I saw Colin had unwrapped all the gifts.  I screamed and ran over to the table with a blanket to throw over them but all this did was put the boys into a tailspin.  They all started jumping around excitedly and tackled me to try and see what was under the blanket.  David, in the meantime, was standing there laughing at us all (as he usually does whenever I perceive an emergency).  At this point, I just surrendered.  William was entirely unconcerned that his gifts were unwrapped or that we hadn’t eaten any cake yet so I decided to just roll with it.  I flung the blanket off the presents like a magician revealing a rabbit in a hat and let them have at it.  William was happy, the boys were happy, and I had survived.

The end of the night was topped off with a nice, strong margarita for mom.  I earned it, people!

 

After a long, long car ride full of stomach bugs, vomiting, and fevers we made it to Tennessee!  I’ll spare you all the gory details of the journey but considering how sick some of us were, we made fairly good time.  Before the trip I made the boys little care packages to make the journey easier like neck cozies, new DS games and sunglasses.  Colin was obsessed with the sunglasses and convinced that it made him the coolest guy in town!

I must say, being back in Tennessee was amazing.  I haven’t been back since living there as a kid and the beauty is intoxicating.  And while I really don’t recall where anything is (I was too young), the flashes of memory I do have are very fond.

The first day we visited Grandma and the boys loved playing in the big pine trees outside her window.  After that we went down to the park and river I used to play in when I was a child.  It felt completely unchanged and was a bit surreal to watch the boys playing outside in just the same way I did when I was a kid.  We played with Abby, threw the Frisbee, and checked out the riverside.  As it got darker, the lightning bugs came out!  I think I was just as excited as the kids.  I have vivid memories of my dad and I venturing outside to the big field outside our house in the evening after they came out.  There would be thousands of twinkling little lights all over the grassy hillside.  We’d catch them in a jar and watch them all shining inside the glass for a while before setting them free and trying again the next night.  The boys were in heaven as they ran around the field trying to catch them all.  Every time they caught one, we’d hear a delighted scream, “I GOT ONE!!!!!”  Then they’d race across the field and hold the bug right up to our face to make sure we saw it too!

The next day we went to Centennial Park to see the Parthenon, which I think sticks out like a sore thumb and is very odd.  We didn’t get to go inside because we got there too early and it was closed so we got snow cones and hung out in the park for a while.

Then we headed downtown to grab a bite to eat.  Downtown Nashville is a pretty cool place but it was very crowded and since I hate crowds and far prefer the countryside, this was probably my least favorite part of the trip.  We ate at the Wild Horse Saloon while a line-dancing lesson was going on and after it was over, the boys had a great time getting on the dance floor and “dancing.”  I’m not sure exactly what to call it because it looked more like they were having fits but William is convinced he is the best dancer in the family.  Wish I got a video of that one!

The next day we went out to the Renaissance Faire.  It was fun time and the people getting tickets were definitely into it complete with costumes and little caps they wore on top of their ears to make them look like fairies!  The boys got to do archery, star throwing, and make their own snow cones using a little hamster wheel to crush the ice!  After going back to the room to relax a bit, we headed back to the park to play with grandma’s dog and catch more fireflies.

Tuesday we went to the Adventure Science Museum.  I don’t have any pictures of this other than me and the boys eating in the cafeteria but it’s probably the coolest children’s museum out there!  After that we headed for dinner at Cock of the Walk, which I must say was kind of flat compared to the lively place I remember it being.  But the food hadn’t changed and we all enjoyed the fried catfish!

The next day we went to Lucky Ladd Farms.  This was VERY fun for all of us.  They had a whole field of baby goats so of course I was in heaven and tried to convince David that we needed to sell our house in Austin, buy some property, and start a goat farm… he was not convinced!  And the highlight of Owen’s visit was definitely playing in the cornbox!

After that we went to Belle Meade Plantation.  We got there too late to do the tour but did get to walk around the grounds.  In usual fashion, I wanted to spend hours there and pretend it was my personal home but we just didn’t have time!  Then after hastily dropping off the kids at grandma’s so David and I could have a date night, we realized we forgot to give her diapers!  So sadly, our date night was cut a bit short but we did manage to eat at a funky little place called the Firefly Café.  The food was great, the atmosphere was great, and getting out without the kids (which rarely happens) was a treat!

Our final day was spent just exploring the neighborhoods and relaxing at grandma’s house.  On Friday morning we headed back to Austin and unfortunately, whether it was another stomach bug or perhaps just bad car sickness, Nathan got sick again on our car ride.  It was terrible for him.  He was hit with it when we stopped for lunch in Memphis and spent the rest of the day throwing up.  Thankfully we stopped early that evening and he got a good night’s sleep so the next day of driving was not nearly as bad for him!

So all in all, it was a wonderful family vacation!  Sunday we were all happy to be home to get ready for work and summer school the next day.  The drive was tough and ideally I would rather fly but with four kids equaling six airline tickets, sometimes driving is the more economical option!  But it was definitely doable and Nashville was worth it!

 

Once again, I can’t believe it has been so long since I’ve written.  I’ve attempted to write on a few occasions but by the time I actually get some quiet time at night, which is usually fairly late because our children just can’t seem to settle at bedtime despite our attempts at implementing a fairly rigid bedtime routine, I either have to wake up early for work the next day or I’m just flat out too exhausted to stay up and put coherent thoughts down on paper.  But today I feel fairly good so here it goes!

I guess you would say the past three months have been a time of personal growth for our family.  William was having some problems at school, which prompted David and I to take a step back and keep him home a couple of days a week so he could have more quality time with us.  We also had to examine our parenting style with him and make some adjustments to fit his personality better.  So far so good because he has slowly been bouncing back to his usual goofy self.  Nathan has been doing well at school lately, although reading is still a big struggle for him.  I started going back through some of my lessons from when I homeschooled him and have been working with him at home again to help.  He’s making a lot of progress and the biggest hurdle is helping him with confidence and frustration level but it’s moving in the right direction!  Colin is doing great as usual although we’re trying to get him to slow down with trying to “destroy” his brothers all the time by turning himself into a Power Ranger.  His greatest thrill in life lately is defeating William and Nathan with his Power Ranger moves.  Lol!  And Owen is doing great too.  Not walking yet and I think it will take another month or two before he starts but every once in a while we catch him standing next to furniture without holding onto anything for support.  Once he gains some confidence, he’ll be off!

I’ve also been doing a fair bit of self-examination when it comes to my relationship with my husband and kids.  There has been a huge divide between my patience level and ease while at work versus home.  At work I feel like I have an endless fuse and rarely get frazzled or overwhelmed but at home I tend to walk through the door or wake up feeling on edge and irritated.  After a few serious talks with David, I realized I needed a bit of spiritual makeover.  I started reading a book by Thich Nhat Hahn about mindfulness, emotions, and applying it to daily life.  I’ve studied mindfulness a lot in the past but obviously needed a refresher!  His way of writing really resonated with me and while I’m not done yet, I am looking forward to reading more of his books.  I also started reading the book Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves.  So far it has been insightful and is really helping me change the way I interact with my kids and break some deep seated habits I’ve developed with parenting.  Overall, I think I’ve made progress and am motivated to continue moving forward!

David is doing well too and thankful for the warmer weather coming back.  He rarely complains about the cold but growing up in Hawaii and getting used to winters, even mild ones like we have in Texas, don’t really mix well together!  Suddenly he’s back to talking about kayaking and doing more outdoorsy things.  I must admit that my tolerance to cold has decreased after years of living in California and now dealing with our 7 month Texas summers.  I’m feeling much brighter with the warmer weather and longer days.  When I get off work and drive home with the sun setting, sometimes I can’t get over how happy I am to be living in Texas.

After taking the boys to the dentist yesterday, we went to the Rodeo and fair.  We all had an amazing time!  Next year though I am vowing to finally own a pair of cowboy boots and wear them.  We are in Texas after all!