30 Days of Thanks: November 1

 It's my annual tradition to blog my days of thanks this month. Simply a moment to really reflect and document what is important to me on that day at that moment. Today is a simple thing: friendship. I am so thankful and grateful for friendship. For the seasonal friendships where people come into your life and then leave, and though I mourn the loss I am grateful for the time; for the long-term friendships, the people that have followed me from state to state to state.....; for the new friendships. Each relationship is unique, some are certainly more dynamic than others, and yet each one holds a place in my heart. These people have been there for me, then not been there for me, and for the most part love me for who I am. This crazy, messy woman who's out making dreams into goals, wrangling 4 kids, and living a life less ordinary.

I am thankful for the friendships that my children develop. Tonight as my eldest attended her first homecoming dance with her best friend for the past 6 years it was a fun time to watch them get ready together. Though they don't spend a lot of time together they were all smiles and you would never know that due to schedules they rarely see each other. My youngest son has developed some incredible friendships this year and is out almost everyday at house hanging out; again it's something special to watch. Even this morning when the youngest and her bestie missed the bus I am thankful they had each other. Each of these friendships shapes them, nurtures them, and feeds them in ways that I cannot. In turn it also feeds me. There is such synergy and beauty in these gifts of friendship.

S off to her homecoming dance

Saturday Busy

 A few more minutes sleep and being in bed was all I wanted this morning, then I glanced at the clock and found myself nearly out of time to cook a meal and drive the oldest to go cheer at a local 5k. The clock was pushing at me, relentless in its movement forward, dwindling the time available. Muffins were baked, eggs were cooked and we were out the door, her with the muffin in hand, and me to return to finish cooking my own breakfast and to sit and enjoy, even if briefly, that cup of hot coffee. On that drive to drop her off I mused at the weather, sunny skies with clouds, a breeze, and cool, with a hint of warmth coming- perfect hiking weather I found myself thinking. Yet I knew that a hike was not in the plan for today.

Today was filled with the jumble of kid activities, the constant movement from one to another. Cheerleading at the 5k, gymnastics for 1, cheerleading practice for 2, which morphed into for 3, my other child enjoying the fall day with friends at a carnival, and me in and out of the car, squeezing in a run for my health and sanity. In the midst of all of this we completed a final harvest of the garden, pulled up the plants, and began changing out the summer clothes for winter clothes. It was a full day here in this single parent household, and while I'm thankful and grateful to have active children it would be nice to take a day to enjoy a fall activity. I had so hoped to take them to a corn maze and pick pumpkins, and while the possibility exists for it to occur tomorrow, it does mean jamming it in between activities.

Sunday will not be a day of rest for us. One child has to serve at church at the early service, and my oldest has yet another cheerleading event in the morning, followed by one in the afternoon. It is in moments like these that I miss the quietness of quarantine. We had more opportunities to hike, take our time, relax, and reset. While my kids are easy going, go with the flow, kids, it can be a strain on me to shuttle them around. There is not that moment to rest, reset, and find that connection into ourselves when the clock is demanding that you manage your time. While a 34 min run allowed me to reconnect, it was squeezed in between so many other things that the recovery and lasting effects were short lived.

This post is not a complaint- all parents with kids in activities go through very similar issues, both in single parent and dual parent households; this post is sharing a moment in the life of a single parent of 4. A mom simply wishing to take her kids out to do a fun family activity without being aware of the clock. This post is a tired mom wishing for time to breathe for herself, juggling the desire to spend quality time with her kids and the want to be alone. This post is a mom finding space for both of those and living in the moment. This is her doing her best to balance her own needs and those of her children. For tonight I am thankful for their health, their joy and commitment to their activities, and my ability to manage it all.

Outside the Circle

The tears threaten to fall, so I blink and smile as I walk to the car, head held high, no one the wiser that there is a part of me breaking. A part of me wondering why, wondering what is wrong, wondering why it's happening again, and wondering if it will ever end. A simple meeting turned into a stark reminder of my place, outside the circle, yet again. 

Seven years ago we moved here, seven years of searching for connection, to build that local community, to build and find that tribe, and here I am, still on a quest. The first few years spent on the cusp of the circle, dancing at the edges, always taking steps to find where a married, working mom of 4 fit into this new community. I was still learning how to be a working mother after a long practice of being a graduate student mother, and the transition was not smooth, yet I was hopeful that in this community I would find my place, my footing. It seemed that I was making a place for this family of mine, and then it changed when my status went from married to single. In a community that is designed for 2 parent households, I found myself thoroughly on the outside. 

Four years ago standing on the outside of the circles I had finally managed to find a small acceptance I found the lines redrawn and the steps to make my way forward towards and into the community in which my children thrived were monumental to me. In a time when I needed my community to support me as I established my role as a single parent I was abandoned by most here. Over these past 4 years I have found my footing and worked diligently to create and live a less life ordinary. The drawback to a non-traditional lifestyle is living life on the outskirts within your own community.

This means driving through your neighborhood and seeing a neighbor having a party and knowing you weren't invited, hoping your children don't notice. But of course they notice, and then they ask: "why weren't we invited, I thought we were friends" and you find yourself saying that you don't know and maybe it's not a neighborhood party and pray to anyone who's listening to support your statement. Then of course your child spots a neighbor walking to the party and your statement is no longer valid. Now your child is wondering aloud at this point why we're never really invited to parties, echoing the inner thoughts in your head. You find a way to console them, remind them of the adventure/activity we are on way to, and pray that it's forgotten in time from their mind, knowing that the moment will be etched within your own. You remind them of all of the parties they have attended and the fun we've created at our own small parties, praying that it's enough. Praying that your children are at least welcome places if your family as a whole is not, all the while building a damn to prevent a flood of tears.

A life less ordinary is not for the faint of heart, especially with children in tow. It's working through each of those situations above, praying that you are making the best decisions for yourself and your children, while honoring the needs of all parties. As a single parent it's questioning every decision more than when you were in a 2 parent household, analyzing each choice and decision. It's finding the consequences of your choices in simple actions such as attending a parent meeting and no one will engage in conversation with you because these critical relationships were developed when your life was upended. On nights such as these when you make solid attempts at engaging in simple conversation with other parents only to be rejected or ignored you begin questioning what is wrong with you, why you are always on the edges, why after 7 years you still are tribeless in a community that thrives on connection. There are moments when it's too much to bear and the tears threaten to pour down because you're tired; you're tired of the inner reminders you tell yourself that you are enough, that you are worth it, and that these other people are missing out. It's wishing for a welcoming face at an event, a person to share the moments with; wishing that for that brief period you are welcome into the circle. It's finding the last of your inner strength and courage to be the parent you want to be and the person you want to be. It would be easier for a short period to don a fake smile, fake attitude and play the games to be accepted into these circles and community. Yet I would not be honoring the person I am continuing to become, so I accept the tears and find a quiet moment to release them, and pray for a tribe for my family.