Coke’s Olympic Commercial

Be warned, it will bring a lump to your throat.

Edward had a friend over. They kept saying they were bored, then would wander off and find something else interesting to do for a bit - Wii, train simulator, playing outside, board games, more Wii. Davey was happy but low key, wanting mostly to play by himself. I pushed the girls on the swing. We missed the nap window so I let them stay up and amazingly they seemed happy enough. Another thunderstorm rolled in by late afternoon. Davey napped (of his own accord), and I played two rounds of Dora Candyland with Jules and Mae (they each won one game).

I even managed to get a decent dinner cooked and by the time Dex got home, the girls were ready for bed and we were all playing in the tent in Davey’s room again.

It was a simple and nice day. Satisfying in a very basic way.

Then I imagine spending yet another winter here. I close my eyes and picture February school break. All the kids home, the wind howling, the snow blowing, the icicles hanging from the porch, the layers we’ve donned just to hudle in the living room….

In part, I feel like by telling him things need to change this fall, I will be letting him down. And in part, I am fighting against my own resistence to drawing a line. This is not easy and I imagine he’s going to be angry and disappointed and - worst of all - will do all he can to prove to me that we can keep doing this for as long as we need to (that being a promise of change, the same promise that has been hanging over our heads and that has kept me going to this point).

But I have to tell him. I owe it to myself, to our kids, to him. I owe him the opportunity to respond, as opposed to me acting in response to what I imagine he will think and say.

Because I can always convince myself to push the line forward just a wee bit more. How do I truly know where to draw the line? Or how do I keep myself from stepping over it again?

He is not going to want to hear it. And I don’t want to say it. He has a plan in mind. And I can’t go along with it. I wish I could. But I am afraid that if I do I will end up in the hospital. Or that we’ll inflict (additional) emotional scars on our children from the unbearable stress. Or that I will end up hating him.

And deep down I feel like if I say it, if I am the one to take a stand, that I’ll be letting us down. If it all crashes and we fail and the money slips through our fingers because I can’t take it anymore, then I will be the one who threw away our future because I am not strong enough to endure this insanity. Just saying it, just saying I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE, THINGS HAVE TO CHANGE VERY SOON, is akin to spitting on our financial security and mocking everything he is trying to do for this family.

So, tell me. How am I supposed to say it?

I probably shouldn’t write about this here. But I am sitting here at close to 2 AM, trying to work on my book (yes, Virginia, I am trying to write a book), and the second I stop working, this rises up in me and my stomach starts to clench and burn and my chest starts to tighten. I have to get this out.

What else can I say? My ability to cope, to soldier on, to muster my flagging energy and enthusiasm has dwindled to all-time lows.

It’s nothing specific. Nothing is different this week than it was last week or the week or month before. There’s no new crisis. On the surface, it all looks the same.

But inside… inside I am spent and depleted. Day after day after day after day of living this way for months and years on end has taken its toll.

unn… let’s lighten the mood for a sec, shall we? This little fella/gal was hanging out watching us do stuff in his/her barn the other day. This is, for those of you who do not know, an appropriately named Barn Swallow. Cute, huh? I took this with my new new backup camera, the Canon S5 IS Dex gave me for my birthday.

So, where was I?

It’s hard to say all of this without offering a disclaimer. I am ok. We are ok. But… I’m just done. The way we are living is madness. And there has been a point to it all, a grand plan, an end goal that will hopefully make it all worth it.

In 6-7 months we’ll arrive at a major stake in the ground. By February, we should be in the position — that is, the financial position — that will afford us a good measure of security and flexibility into our coming years. More specifically, if all goes well and Dex stays with his current job/company and the economy doesn’t go down the drain, we’ll be able to move to Colorado and buy a wonderful house mortgage-free.

We’ve been working hard toward this. Two years ago, when Dex took this job with the 3-hour a day commute, we went into it with high hopes for a big pay-off. And now, a decent reward is hovering on the horizon.

But therein lies our problem.

It’s still on the horizon. Close… but frankly I am not sure I can make it from here today to there six months from now with things staying the way they are. If we were staring down the next 6 months with fresh eyes, it would be different. Piece of cake. But we’re going into this exhausted. And exhausted not just from the past two years.

The past two years would be enough to wipe out anyone. The commute, the kids, the freakin’ winters… oh. Really. It has been a lot to manage. But don’t forget, we went into THAT with our inner gumption already running at below capacity.

Honestly, I am AMAZED, truly amazed, that we have endured so well. I am amazed that Dex and I are not only still talking to each other but are doing pretty well together. I have to give us - all of us, kids included - vast credit.

I have gotten through as I always do - on sheer grit and force of will. I have just done it.

But I feel like this past week or two - in which nothing has been worse, nothing has been threatening or building up - that I have done a body slam into the deep end. Like I’ve been falling, falling, falling but completely unaware, smiling the whole way down, so that when I hit it’s a shock. Bam. Fine to flattened in a week.

Of course, that only illustrates how strong my will is, to have pushed me through week after week feeling like I am coping just fine and, aside from a handful of bad days and small stress-plosions here and there, I can keep on with some semblance of normalcy. Everyone’s fed, clothed, entertained, loved. The dishes are done, the fridge is full, we play at the park and go to the library. Life moves along in a rather normal fashion.

And then I find myself rising from the dirt, stunned, wondering what the hell just happened. And I feel every muscle, every bone, aching and bruised.

The question is how are we going to get from HERE (now) to THERE (Feb)?

This is a problem. A big one.

This is for me:

 p.s. I have had a really good day.

Week 1

I had all four kids home with me. I can’t recall much else other than that. Dex worked at home one day and of course had Friday (Independence Day) off. He and Edward went to see one of the local fireworks displays one evening (not on the 4th as, strangely, very few 4th of July celebrations are held on the actual holiday around here, a fact I never fail to find disturbing). I dragged all the kids to Davey’s new school for a quick visit before his summer session.

Week 2

Davey started his extended year summer session at the new school. He is being transported by our school district still but has a new morning driver. Despite my concern, his first week seems to go smoothly. Dex’s parents arrive for a visit. We’re thrilled to see them. During the week, we play with the kids, go swimming at the hotel and a local pond, go to the classic car show at Kimball’s, go see Wall-E, take in another fireworks display, and Dex and I are finally able to have our romantic splurge evening in Boston. Before the grandparent’s leave, we have an early birthday celebration for the girls.  

Week 3

Edward has Scout day camp all week. Davey has school all week. I have to drive Edward to and from the camp bus drop-off, and on Monday I have to drive Davey to and from school, and I have to pick him up from school on Tuesday. I put several hundred miles on the minivan just driving kids around to where they need to go. The 32 miles round-trip to Davey’s school takes me just under an hour. Two of my four precious kid-free days this summer fall during this week. I get almost nothing done. Dex has two late nights, one for business in NY, one for dinner with his far-flung boss. I can’t even remember what the girls and I did for fun on our days together. Surely something? Probably it involved Target.

Week 4

Davey third week of school. I have two days with just Edward and three days with Edward and the girls. Dex is out of town all week on a business trip to the west coast. He leaves Monday and returns Friday morning on the red-eye, which means he really gets home Friday afternoon when he wakes up. On Monday, Edward and I do a lemonade stand - something he has asked to do since last summer. We get a single customer - our neighbor from across the street - and play cards and Yahtzee. Next time we might try an iced coffee stand. On Tuesday, we all go berry picking then I take the kids candlepin bowling. They all have a blast and Edward even wins a stuffed Luigi from the claw machine in the bowling alley arcade. I never knew one could actually win something from the claw. Wednesday I take Edward for a long overdue haircut and we run a few errands. Thursday he, the girls and I venture out in the torrential rain to an indoor playground. I let them play for hours, climbing and running, until they are all exhausted. On Friday I pack a picnic lunch and we head to the playground and the library. I’d originally planned on riding our bikes but between my slipping chain, threatening clouds, and sheer exhaustion, we drive instead.

Week 5

Heading into this week, Davey is at school, Edward is at day camp again, and I have my second set of two kid-free days. Today is one of them and in about 10 minutes Davey and I will head over to pick up the girls. They took cupcakes today for their birthday celebration. Their new Build-A-Bear bears also went along with them today. I have gotten some work done today but not as much as I’d hoped. It’s never enough time…especially when it takes me two hours to wake up enough to have a coherent thought.

xoxoxo to my Jules and my Mae

love, your big mama

Thoughts:

• time to make coffee
• in three hours, can get no-nap girls ready for bed
• we can make it three hours
• I think

Short time later, finally rinsing and filling coffee pot, glance again at same clock. It reads 3:40.

How can this be?! Twenty whole minutes have just been tacked onto my afternoon through visual cortex clerical error. Oh, cruel, cruel, cruel!

The pain is real.