Feeling regret

Yesterday and today I was an incredibly crabby mom.
My kids irritated me.
They did unforgivable things.
You know, like.....
-spill orange juice
-fight over a game
-whine because Dad was "leaving again" for the evening
-barf all over the kitchen floor
-insist on holding my hand to fall asleep.
-talk during dramatic parts of "the Bible" (become completely mezmorized and quiet during commercials)
-want food
-want hugs
-want time alone with me
-want a bedtime story
-want a soft spoken mom
-want help
-want to tell me something exciting

I helped them, held them, smiled and listened-mostly.
I sighed a lot, hoping people would notice.
Slammed down plates of second servings.
Snapped at innocent inquisitive questions.
Over punished mistakes.
Reprimanded for singing.too.much.

I was desperate for sleep, longing for an escape from never ending domestic ...stuff.
And of course,
now that the kids are off in dream-land I feel like a monster for being so selfish and impatient.

Why is it so hard to be kind and loving to the people in your life that you love most?
I know.
Its hard because its hard.
And it always will be.

Breaking (it) down

I slept most of today...which has been good. I am learning to accept that my body requires tremendous amounts of rest. I always need a day to recover after a busy stretch...otherwise I break down (hide in my bed-I love my bed). The downside to this requirement is the overwhelming feeling at the END of my slumber, when the reality of completing unfinished TaSKS...and the perpetual, never ending to-do list...we all must face, hits me.

*GAK* (thats the sound my brain makes trying to sort it all out...).

There is a 15 minute window upon rising, where my mind decides whether it will crumple and become paralyzed (i.e. head back until I pick up the kids from school), OR become functional, and MOVE...by simply doing something small (putting in my contacts, pulling on jeans, making coffee). Even if my mind is not ready for the day, my body is helping it get there.

Today during the foggy 15 min. window, I shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed my pretty post it paper (dollar store beauty). With just enough determination and energy I jotted down some goals to complete in the rest of the day. Hopefully. Maybe.

Ok. I may not get them all done but I know I'm moving in the right direction.
And its only 2pm! 

sweet Jesus Christ my sanity

This evening my mom emailed just to check in and tell me about her day.

we do that now more than we ever used to.

she mentioned that "the boys" (my two brothers) helped her sort her bedroom closet and pack away my dad's clothes. I guess she hasn't had the heart to do it herself, and I guess I haven't had the heart to offer. 

my "emotional setting" since the funeral hasn't moved past numb.

its left me inwardly sorrowful but complacent to any outward expression...
more aptly put, I haven't cried.
I'v been stuck.

Visualizing the three pulling out hangers of his suits and dress shirts,
sweaters from christmas and hockey Jerseys for those games "in the city",

folding them all up and then deciding what to keep and what to donate;

set my emotions into motion...cracked open the dull expressionless ache and rendered the hurt.
Tears flowed refreshingly, soothingly. 

He is gone.

Completely gone.

In a flash. Just like that.

I can hear him saying my name.
I can see his eyes soften and crinkle when he smiled.

will my memory of DAD eventually disappear and be packed away like his shirts and sweaters?
death is cruel in its finality. its permanence.

This song brings comfort to me.

It is simple. It is soft. It is strong.

Mystery by Charlie Hall.

Dad is needed

I put a few more miles on the car today and drove our youngest up to Faith Bible Camp. A beautiful camp out at Victoria beach where Kent is working as this weeks camp director.

As much as I try to create fun, full, planned days with the children in his absence, there isn't anything quite like time spent with the real deal. Time with DAD.

When mom attempts to be funny or silly (like dear old DAd), her children look disturbed concerned instead of amused. When mom attempts to "play" video games with the children-as DAD loves to do, she is politely asked to quit mid-game so that it can "really be played." well! When mom attempts to tell bedtime stories like Dad, she again comes up short because she just isn't as "interesting".  SO, let it be known that I cannot be mom and dad to our two beautiful, sweet, endearing, tiring, hungry, bored, electronically-addicted...did i mention hundry? children. I just can't.

Thankfully I won't need to invest a whole lot more time trying (whew). As of today, the calendar has been turned to August, and with that progression to a new month comes the promise of a family reunited. Yay! (*until I take off for my own personal vacation*) Yay!

a weeks worth

I'm sorry

I'm sorry.
I feel helpless when you are in turmoil and deep pain, when your eyes resemble those of a frightened animal and your body is forced into constant motion. You are afraid of the future. I can see that. You are afraid to think too much of his absence. You are afraid of life now...without. Without....protection, companionship, and love.
I notice all of this, but I cannot reach out to you. I hear the grief and pain in your voice but I turn my head away in avoidance. At night I am aware of your sleeplessness but i cover my head with a blanket to muffle out your insomnia. 
I'm sorry.
It is just too much for me to take in, it is too much for me to bear. This is foreign territory for me. I am fighting the realization that you are not the same strong woman that I've always relied on. I am resisting the sobering truth that I must in some way be strong for you, the woman who raised me and modelled life in a gracious and giving way. You have always had the answers, the right words to console my anxious heart or reassure my self doubt. I recognize that you cannot be the same from this point forward. I understand that your world is upside down. Yet somehow my heart is deceived into believing you'll get through this with the same determination and strength as you always have before.
I'm sorry.

Random Tuesday

*I am currently buried knee-deep in clutter. Papers, craft supplies, photo albums, games, mason jars, markers, files...things that require proper ORGANIZATION and storage are scattered at my feet. Yesterday I decided to purge, pack (and inevitably...panic) as an attempt to bring order to this space. But I'm not sure how or why I always forget that these projects get worse (much worse) before they get better. I tend to get distracted half-way through...go make coffee, break up fights, get the phone, make a meal...you know how the story goes. That's probably why I am spending quality time writing instead of getting the job done. Makes sense.
*Lately I have been concerned that we are eating out too much again. I like to eat real food. Most restaurant food is not "real" food. you know?
*I am so thankful that the school year is over.
*The kids are at their annual summer DVBS program this week put on by the Sterling Mennonite church on Dakota Street. It is a wonderful program, very well run... and quite frankly almost too good to be true. After dropping the kids off in the morning I gun it and peal out of the parking lot as fast as I can, grinning like a crazy person... (imagine ikea commercial with woman running out of store..."start the car!!....start the car!!)... I'm thinking to myself, you people seriously want to volunteer and take my children for 7 hours . entertain them with singing, crafts, dramas, bible lessons, snack and then an afternoon of field trips around the city..... for only $45!!? HA!! are you nuts?!?
 Evidently this church sees this as a ministry opportunity, and I for one appreciate it.
(Our church actually has a really neat day camp too called Grandma's Camp. But it runs at the same time as this DVBS so we've never gone. I''d like the kids to go sometime though).
*We are renting a Yurt this summer in Spruce Woods. I am incredibly excited to cook over an open fire. I have been scanning flyers for an inexpensive camping stove, or a portable BBQ!!! hooray! I am going to wear my bonnet and "Caroline Ingalls" dress like a real pioneer and call kent,  "Charles" while we're there. Maybe he'll hunt deer and set out bear traps.
*I must confess do not know how to spell. I DO NOT. I will admit to knowing that my blog is FULL of spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Sometimes I go back and correct things, sometimes I do not.
*I have now started shopping at the Carman Manitoba M.C.C store. I stop there on my way to the Winkler MCC store visit my mom in Winkler. Picked up this sweet little set of drawers/side table for ONLY $20 last week. Almost had to fight for it (one lady started measuring it while I was in line!!-how dare she). It looks handmade and is very solid. Might stain it a pretty blue colour or leave it as is.

*Brontë joined the running club at school this spring and did the Super Run at the Manitoba Marathon.

I'm thrilled that she inherited my athletic prowess, and love of exercise. Kent took this picture because at the time I was busy completing the full marathon.  26 miles. yup, i was. (nope i wasn't).

Brontë running with a few friends from school. Yay!!!
*We found out that our new house will not be move-in-ready until the middle of September. For some reason I feel relieved by this fact and am now inspired to shop for potted plants and garden vegetables for the back yard. (i know that doesn't make sense to you, but it makes sense to me).
*I have not showered in 3 days because of a nasty cold and chest infection.
*It has been quite fascinating watching the new Bomber football stadium taking shape. It looks amazing!

Not quite sure however if the Bombers will actually be playing in the stadium this fall as predicted?? I'm no architect or construction worker... but I have a feeling this building will not be ready for the next football season...unless the plan is to provide hardhats and steel-toed boots with every ticket sold. one never knows.

Please feel free to pop by at anytime to see my messy office, unwashed hair, new side table, and empty soon-to-be-filled flower pots, in person.

family

My dad sent me this photograph.
I noticed it in the family history book that he recently wrote,
and I wanted a copy of my own.
A picture of my Grandmother,
or as we were accustomed to calling her..."Großmama" (say Geh ros -ma ma)
in 1942.
My mother's mother.

She and my Großpapa were immigrants from Prussia (now ukraine).
This was their 1st farm in Canada.
The Alberta prairie.
They came into this new country with one baby (my aunt Margaret).
And then had 10 more:
David, Dorothy, Bernard, Erwin, Helen, Edward, Rudolf, Rae, Eric and Gertrude.
My uncle Dave was 18 years old when my mom was born.

It looks like there is snow on the ground in the photograph.
No time for Grandma to put on a jacket I guess...
I wonder what she is hanging on the wash line.
nightgowns? shirts?

I remember my Großmama's hair.
Her long white braid, pinned up into a bun.
(Just like she wore it back in 1942.)
I remember her dresses. She liked to wear brooches.
I remember her calling my mom, "Trud-dah".
I remember her baking buns.
I remember Klassen Christmas gatherings with a house full of people
and always lots of singing.
In German.

I know that my beautiful Großmama worked very hard and put up with a lot....
I know that she did her best.

time heals all wounds

does the passing of time heal our wounds?
what do you think?
i'm not exactly sure.
i was pondering that familiar phrase just now as my hands busily washed dishes
and scrubbed pans.
(a great time and place to think and reflect, is it not?)

on sunday as i was enjoying an afternoon of painting at a local
ceramics shop; i saw out of the corner of my eye someone from "the past"...
a woman i used to be incredibly close to, someone i looked up to,
and at one time accepted as the sister (in law) i always wanted.

seeing her briefly at the store, knowing that she also chose
to pretend and ignore my presence, wasn't shocking.
it wasn't the first (or last) time.
i felt sad though.
that we had to pretend....
when years ago we had celebrated christmas's, family birthdays,
even confidences together.
now we were just strangers,
sharing a space.

Has time healed that wound?

Time has strengthened my understanding of how marriage is not easy,
and probably wasn't for my sister in law. There is grace now, where there wasn't
grace before. Time has enabled me handle our "encounters" without getting shaky
and emotional.

Our wounds change us. and time passing though helpful, does not change us back
to how we were "before".....or heal us completely. (as much as we'd like it to).
I think time rather, can help us live and adapt within that inevitable change.

to form some sort of new existence, and grasp onto some sort of truth.
to move forward...

Its tough.

days at home

Have you ever purposefully left something out (exactly where it was left) to see how long it will stay there until noticed and/or moved??
I actually do that randomly for my own personal amusement. It makes me giggle.

Not to make a mockery of anyone who resides in this house, but it never ceases to amaze me how some of my loved ones, are not bothered by random objects in the wrong location....right smack dab in their way. I actually both admire and cringe at the reality that they seriously don't notice, and just step over (or on) it.

And that's ok.
Really, it is.
Because, there are other times that I place something out (mostly again for my own enjoyment) NOT expecting anyone to notice or comment....AND THEY DO! Hooray!

The surprise factor actually (>almost<) makes up for the times laundry, books, toys or other misplaced items are completely ignored.
Low expectations.
Works every time.

 picture

School mornings at the Rygiel household, are generally busy, frantic....and loud. No matter how much I try to prepare ahead of time (make lunches, have clean clothes ready, lay out agendas and permission slips to be packed), there is usually a school bus-load of crying, impatience and scolding.
This morning was no exception.

Safe to say our hectic morning routine, wouldn't have inspired a Norman Rockwell painting. The familiar Saturday Evening post artist tended to gravitate to deeply serene, nostalgic images of family, or pleasant day to day interactions. Scenes that depict anger and frustration he left for ......Jackson Pollack?
We'd probably be better represented by the folks from Family circle or Dennis the Menace.
With pride of course.

Part of the frustration we experience each morning, is the tension between MY expectations (of what I think the children should be able to do without reminders), Kent's expectations (of how the children should be listening and responding), and the children's actual abilities at that hour of the day. It all turns into an imaginary cocktail called "butting heads" (please drink responsibly).

Parenting is an incredibly challenging, stressful, mind-altering, sleep-depriving experience (I'm sure you know that already). And I wouldn't give it up for the world!! However, I've heard that much of the stress in parenting isn't so much in relating to your children, but in relating to your spouse. It takes practice learning the intricate dance of  how to teach, mold and instruct your children, TOGETHER, without stepping on each others toes.

Plans of actions, implementations of behavioural modifications, correcting mistakes, encouraging learned skills, and getting your kids motivated and out the door.... only works smoothly, when both parents are actively communicating the same thing and on the same page. Do I hear an amen?! (thank you Beth Moore). Kids tend to get confused with what they are to do when a parent interrupts, and corrects the other, in the middle of a request.
Spouse 1: "Johnny, please go get your shoes".
Johnny gets up and walks to closet.
Spouse 2: "Johnny doesn't need to get his shoes yet, he needs to brush his teeth first."
Spouse 1: "Johnny brushed his teeth already when you were in the shower, he needs to put on his shoes so we arn't late!!"
Spouse 2: "Why are you mad at me?"
Spouse 1: "What are you talking about? i'm not mad at you, I'm just stressed!"
Spouse 2: "You sound angry"
Spouse 1: "Good grief! I'M NOT ANGRY!!!!
Spouse 2:  "Hey, where did Johnny go? He's supposed to put on his shoes....?"
Spouse 1: "oh look, he's on the driveway. Barefoot, holding his toothbrush".

I am not writing that from personal experience, for I've never personally heard anything so outlandish and ridiculous. That poor couple. Pray for us them.

Since this mornings loud parade out the front door once again provided live entertainment for the entire neighborhood, I decided to take the matter into my own hands, and do what I should have done weeks ago! Boldly go and purchase something off the internet. Yes. SOME kind of tool to assist us in generating independence, cheerfulness and family unity, without having to break the bank, and or anyone's pride ("toes").

Ta DAH!!!!!! Meet the "Kids daily activity organizer", from Amazon.com.

Kent and I are very unified in the purchase of this handy dandy, color infused sensory overloaded, clothes divider creation. Our families survival is counting on the children's motivation to fill each little cubby with a daily outfit, so that they can (GaSp!) go on their own to their closets each morning, and get fully dressed without asking for help. No more,
son: "MOM have you seen my star wars t-shirt?" mother: "which one dear, you happen to own over 10". son: "the black one". mother: "they are all black". son: "the black one with darth vadar." mother: " there are 2 in the laundry and 3 more somewhere in your room." son: "but I promised my friend that I would wear "this" specific one. I'm too tired to go get it.....can you find it for me pleeeeease."

Here's to the multi-coloured clothes organizer. If this doesn't work, we may just start charging our neighbors  admission fees if and when they insist on watching our performances.