Relentless

I’ve been back at work for over four weeks and the pace of things feels… relentless.

Relentless.

It’s the perfect word.

From the minute I wake up until the minute I go to bed, every minute is scheduled, every minute is required for something, or someone.

I’m having a REALLY hard time carving out a space for myself. It’s obvious that I’m going to have to rearrange my expectations. Significantly. I want to do more than I have time for, and I’m trying to determine what is going to fall by the wayside.

Last year I felt like I’d found a decent balance, but I was kidding myself. The only reason I had time for what I wanted to do was because I was only sleeping five hours most nights. By the end of the year I was losing myself to sleep deprivation.

My schedule this year allows me to wake up an hour later, so I’m getting six hours of sleep most night. I know I need about an hour more than that, but I can get by on six hours a lot better than I can on five. I’m thankful to have that extra hour of rest, but I’m realizing that in gaining that sleep I’ve lost time for other things.

My schedule is very different this year. I get to work late, losing most of my prep period, and I can’t stay for very long after school because I have to pick up my kids. This means I can’t make time to get my work done and it’s very stressful when the obligations start to pile up and I realize I can’t come in early, or leave late to get things done. I told my husband that I will need an entire weekend day every few weeks to keep my head above water, there just isn’t any way for me to stay on top of everything without more time.

Of course it feels like I never have enough hours with my kids. It helps that I get to see them in the mornings and in the evenings, but time with them is always rushed by a need to accomplish something. Every one of the minutes I spend with them needs to be productive or the whole operation goes off the rails. There are only about fifteen minutes before bedtime when we can run around or wrastle or tickle or play around. It’s such a pitiful amount of time to actually enjoy being together.

In the evenings, after bed time, my time feels even more limited. There are chores to get done, quality time to squeeze in with my husband, and attempts at filling my own cup. I could never manage all three in one night, so it inevitably feels like I’m shirking my obligations around the house, or ignoring my husband, or not meeting my own needs. I have yet to figure out how to find any time to see my friends (more on that later).

Honestly, at this point, if I make time for one thing, I’m taking time away from another, equally, if not more important, thing. I’m constantly rearranging my priorities, determining what, on any given day, feels necessary. The problem is sometimes that rearranging comes back to bite me on the ass.

Like today, I ran after work and before picking up my kids, but I had to sneak off campus fifteen minutes early and pick up my daughter 15 minutes late to make it work. I did that so I could write here at night, instead of go on the elliptical, but when I chose to run I also chose not to stop by the supermarket which means I had fewer options for dinner.

Last night I was exhausted and passed out at 9pm, right after I put my daughter to bed, which means I didn’t get to spend any time with my husband, who I haven’t really talked to in three days. I also didn’t pick up around the house, which is reaching a level of chaos that really stresses me out.

I feel like I’m trying to fit four hours worth of responsibility into two hours of time every night, and that time is being interrupted by my daughter who still takes 90 minutes to actually fall asleep.

It’s just hard, and stressful, and when I constantly feel like I’m avoiding one thing to accomplish another, none of it feels very satisfying. Exercising loses a little of its ability to relieve stress when I know it’s keeping me from being with my kids and/or my husband. Folding the laundry can’t be a mindless task to be enjoyed in front of the TV when I know it’s causing me to lose precious sleep. I want the time with my husband to feel extra meaningful when it’s keeping me from writing. I feel like everything I do is at the expense of something else, and my cup is becoming a sieve.

When there isn’t enough time, there is no right way to spend it.

I’m feeling so haggard from it, and it’s only the first month of the school year. How can I make this sustainable?

How do you manage everything when there aren’t enough hours in the day? How did you determine your priorities?

Retreat

I have been blogging for (what feels like) a long time (I actually missed my six year blogoversary last month). I used to write almost every day, and I would write whatever I was thinking or feeling. My blog was a raw, honest place.

That has changed. I have changed. I don’t write as much any more, and I don’t write everything I’m thinking or feeling. Partly that is a reflection on me and the ways I’ve evolved–I don’t share as much with others as I used to in any area of my life. At least it doesn’t feel like I do. I wonder sometimes if that is true.

I don’t put myself out there anymore, because I realize now that there will always be judgement; there will always be those people who read what I write and think my words here are a complete reflection of who I am. And perhaps it’s not fair to ask someone to remain constantly aware of the fact that what is presented here is not an accurate account, that I am more than what I write in these posts.

Despair. There can be an air of it, evidently, in how I present myself. Even people who know I am more can be weighed down by it. So I’m trying hard to hold it close, to contain it. I know it’s there. I recognize it myself. I can see how others perceive it. And I understand that those people who are not afflicted by depression, who have never suffered it (or haven’t suffered from it consistently) can’t recognize its manifestations. It took me over a decade to do that myself, and I’m living with it, so I don’t expect others to easily identify it and understand it for what it is–a thing I am afflicted with, but not who I am.

Few things have hurt more than when my words here were taken as some indelible truth by those I loved, and used against me. I do, and will continue to, try hard to ensure it never happens again.

And so I hold things close. When the stress starts to get the better of me and I notice I am falling into that pit that others recognize as despair, I hang back. I put on a mask. I don’t share that part of me with anyone else. Not even here. But I also don’t force myself to pretend I am somewhere I’m not. I don’t force myself to pretend anymore than I’m already required to. So I stop writing. I stop texting. I stop reaching out. I know that people don’t want any part of me when I’m like this so I don’t thrust it in their faces. Instead, I let there be silence.

Silence doesn’t have to be bad. Silence can be a healing place.

This is a hard time of year for me. It always has been. There are myriad reasons why this year the stress is even more intense. I’m not handling any of it particularly well. I’m okay with that. I’m giving myself time and space. I’m giving my friends a break. I’m reading bad YA novels and watching mindless TV. I’m working out (which helps my stress levels immensely). I’m not writing. I’m not posting. I’m putting up cute pictures of my kids on FB. I’m answering How are you? with Fine.

And I will be fine. I know that. If I were worried that I might not be fine I’d reach out. This is not the kind of melancholy that requires I seek outside support. I know myself. I know my moods. I know my up and down cycles. I know my depression. I’m on my medication. This is a tough time–this will be a hard year–but eventually it will be become routine, and the weight of it won’t feel so overwhelming.

In the meantime I retreat. And that is okay. Sometimes retreating is the right move, strategically. Sometimes retreating is the smart thing to do.

How do you cope when you’re struggling?

Sitting with it

About a month ago, my husband and I had a horrible conversation that left me terrified. It was one of the first times in my life where I felt more sure that we weren’t going to make it, than that we were.

I stayed calm throughout the entire conversation. I never got angry. I barely even got upset. I didn’t say anything I would later regret. I listened carefully to what my husband had to say; I made sure I really heard him. He did the same. We understood each other.

Afterward I got up, did the dishes, read a book, and went to bed. I felt godawful inside, but I didn’t lose myself to it. I acknowledged how bad I felt, accepted it, and moved on.

It wasn’t even hard to fall asleep that night.

There was a time, not long ago, when a conversation like that one would have absolutely destroyed me. There would have been yelling, and crying, and the exchanging of unfortunate words. Later I would have dashed around the house like a woman possessed, unable to quiet the torrent of emotions inside, wanting to make it all go away but not having the presence of mind to manage it. I would have been up for hours, tormenting myself with the what ifs.

I don’t do that anymore. I’ve grown up. I can sit with an uncomfortable feeling. I don’t have to flee from it. I don’t have to drown it in alcohol or smoother it in ice cream. I can just sit with it, even when it’s twisting my insides, and I can be okay.

I am really appreciate of that. Maybe even a little proud.

It took me a long time to get here. So so long. But I did. I read a ton of books, I practiced different strategies, I turned to meditation, then turned away, then turned back once again.

And in the end, it all made a difference. Even though I never fully embraced any one thing, that journey gave me the tools I need to manage some pretty intense emotions. I can sit with some heavy shit and not feel crushed under the weight.

I like to think it’s evident to others, in how I relate to those around me, in how I present myself to the world. I am a different person in so many ways.

I’m not the woman I was five years ago, and I like this new me so much more.

It’s heartening to believe that people can grow and change. I look forward to the acceptance that five or ten more years will bring me.

Control

My husband and I have had a lot of conversations about my daughter’s behavior and disposition lately. We both agree that it has improved immensely and we’re really enjoying spending time with her. The only thing we don’t agree on is how to explain the recent improvement.

I, of course, believe my daughter is doing better because of the changes we’ve made in what she eats. It’s been about three weeks and while I know we can’t be sure yet if the diet has really made the difference, it’s absolutely what I’m attributing it to. It’s too much of coincidence that her attitude and behavior turned around so significantly at exactly the time we started eliminating additives and adding magnesium, especially considering she’s been managing the stressful transition to Kindergarten, which I expected would make her more irritable and more easily upset.

My husband remains unconvinced. He thinks there are any number of possible causes for the turn around: she had anxiety about starting Kindergarten that has dissipated now that she finally started; she is going through one of her “good” cycles, possibly following a rough couples of months of rapid cognitive development; her brother is developing his own interests, affording her more space; she is settling into a routine after the random weeks of summer (our daughter has always done better with a solid routine). While my husband absolutely believes the diet and supplement are a part of the improvement, he thinks they are merely one piece in a series of moving parts.

This has been very frustrating for me.

And finally, last night, I figured out why.

The thing is, my husband’s explanation is a reasonable one. In fact, it may be considerably more reasonable than my own. It certainly is more conservative and measured, and it makes quite a bit of sense. There is a reason my husband studied law–he is good at arguing his case and he appreciates the importance of solid evidence.

Solid evidence is something I don’t have. And yet I choose to believe anyway. I choose to believe because if I think all this is helping it makes it easier to do all the hard work. I choose to believe because it feels good to think I’m helping my daughter.

I choose to believe because it gives me a feeling of control.

And that, in the end, is what it comes down to. I want to think the diet and the supplement are making the difference because I can keep eliminating additives and mixing magnesium into my daughter’s warm milk. I want to think this is all making the difference because then I can ensure things will keep getting better, or at least stay as good as they are now.

If it’s other things, a more elusive convergence of the situational and developmental, I have no control. I can’t ensure that my daughter won’t wake up one morning angry and upset, ready to meltdown or become aggressive at the slightest provocation. If the diet isn’t the causal force of all this good, I can’t guarantee that this new reality I love so much won’t evaporate in a puff of smoke.

I need that control. I’m desperate for it. Things are so much better than they’ve ever been, and I’m terrified it’s not going to last. If I think I’m doing something to cause these positive changes then I can continue doing something to ensure the positive changes don’t stop.

My husband and I had a good talk about all this last night, and I appreciate better understanding why it frustrated me so much that he didn’t attribute the improvements to the changes we made. Recognizing how terrified I am of losing this amazing version of my little girl, and understanding how desperate I am to ensure it doesn’t happen, is an important step.

I hope, moving forward, I can remain impartial in my recording of my daughter’s behavior, and be sensible in my interpretations of what might be causing any anomalous outbursts. A level-head can only help me moving forward, and I can only have one if I learn to accept my fear instead of allowing it to get the best of me.

And if I can’t, I hope my husband less emotional, more prudent interpretation can anchor me.

Have you even chose to believe something because doing so afforded you control (or the illusion of it)? How do you accept how little control we actually have?

The Electronic Babysitter

I’d love to sit here all proud of the fact that the TV is almost never on in our house, but I honestly can’t take much credit. It was my husband who was super anti-TV when our kids were younger and I respected his wishes on that, even though I thought it was all kinds of bullshit since I was with them more and felt I unfairly shouldered the burden.

Later we all but gave the TV away, as far as our kids were concerned, because our daughter had such an awful time turning it off that the inevitable meltdown negated any stress relief provided by turning it on in the first place. In the last year our daughter quite literally never watched TV at our house.

I have busted out some Spanish language cartoons to keep my son occupied when he wakes up before I’m done showering after a workout, but that isn’t a regular occurrence. Still, at not even two years old he’s sat in front of way more lighted screens than his sister had at that age (actually, she never sat in front of any TV before she was two, my husband insisted on that).

So yes, I am pretty proud that we don’t fall back on TV, but it’s a misplaced pride because I didn’t really have anything to do with it. If it were up to me my kids would watch TV every day.

At least that is what I thought…until I realized I might need to turn it on to get through some of these insane afternoons. And suddenly I’m not sure I want to.

My in-laws suggested it first. They saw first hand the chaos that ensued when they dropped our son off after a day at their house. My daughter is tired, wired, clingy and whiny after a long day at school and after care. My son gets amped up just seeing my daughter. He wants to be with her. She needs her space. They require constant coaching in appropriate sibling interaction. I need to get dinner ready and on the table.

“Just have them watch Sesame Street,” my mother-in-law implored.

“Talk to your son,” was my immediate response.

But he was okay with it too. He also recognizes the perfect storm of shit that is the hour before mealtime, especially now that my kids are so hungry they want to eat long before my husband is even home. If I don’t turn the TV on, making dinner is almost impossible and by the time I get everyone seated at the table I am completely and utterly frazzled. The thought of making it through two separate bedtimes is almost unbearable.

When I turn on the TV, making dinner is a breeze. I can even get the dishes done, and put a load in the laundry early, which means I won’t be up waiting to fold clothes before bed.

Turning on the TV is the obvious choice, and yet I feel like a horrible mom for doing it. I have so few hours with my children, to abandon them to a glowing screen for 54 minutes feels like neglect. But then, when I have that time to recharge while I make them food, I can engage with them more in the final hours before bed. And I enjoy those moments with them more as well.

The only reason the TV is even an option now is because my daughter can handle turning it off. Whether it’s the diet or the magnesium or a bit of both, my daughter is truly a changed child. Now she hardly blinks when I turn off the TV. She comes straight to the table and starts to eat. (A separate miracle, to be sure.)

And so the two great barriers between me and my kids’ TV time have crumbled. My husband now supports me turning it on instead of balking at the prospect, and my daughter doesn’t meltdown when I turn it off. There is no reason not to use it except my own… I want to say concern over how much screen time they’ll be getting, but I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a fair amount of pride at stake too.

I also realize I have no idea how much TV other kids watch. Maybe an hour a day, four days a week, isn’t such a bad thing? Maybe that’s totally normal. I honestly don’t know.

 How much TV do your kids watch? How do you feel about how much screen time they get?

Staying the Course

I am writing this post on my elliptical. As in while I am exercising. I don’t know if it’s going to work but I thought I’d try it because time is so hard to come by these days. I’m making time to exercise, because that is imperative to my mental health, but it’s harder to find time to write.

We shall see. Already my shoulders hurt from holding my arms up this high.

Hmm. Changed my stance a bit and this might be doable. A little ingenuity goes a long way. Of course I can’t work out as hard this way, but if it means I can get a post written it may be worth it…

So, where did we leave off? Oh right. My husband came back from his parents’ house and decided that he wanted to do more research into the diet. After hearing that my daughter expressed discontent over not being allowed the snacks at after care, he no longer believed there was “no harm in trying it,” even for six weeks, because she clearly felt left out and ostracized for not being able to eat what the other kids were eating. This was frustrating for me, not because I didn’t see the validity in his concern, but because it wasn’t until his parents talked to him that he decided he needed to figure things out for himself. Why didn’t he do that three weeks ago when I first brought all this up?

I told him he was welcome to look into it and get back to me. I also told him that I was going to continue as I had been until he made a decision because I knew it might take him a while to figure it all out. Not shockingly, he still hasn’t done any research or read even one article.

I know how this is going to go. He’s just going to sit on it for a few days, stewing, and then he’s finally going to conceded to me and let me have my six weeks, not because he feels any more comfortable with our daughter being the odd kid out, but because he won’t be able to muster the energy to actually find articles to bolster his argument. Sometimes the things that drive me crazy about my husband work in my favor.

In the meantime, I’m getting my ducks in a row, because it’s clear that I need to if I want a snowball’s chance in hell of doing this the right way.

This stuff is hard core. This is not just check labels for Red Dye 40 or “artificial flavors.” This is a total overhaul of our lives. Doing the strict six weeks to really see if our daughter is reacting to this stuff requires getting her new toothpaste (thank god she likes the Fennel flavored Tom’s), new allergy medicine, new hand soap, new shampoo/body wash, new bubble bath, new everything. I’m lucky that I already use very gentle, free and clear laundry detergent to prevent eczema breakouts for my son, so I didn’t have to replace anything there, but pretty much everything else that touches my daughter’s skin had to be replaced. And I already bought a lot of things unscented because perfumey smells make me sick.

Every time I change something I hold my breath, worried about a negative reaction from my daughter. When I had to dump her beloved “medicine” because it was grape flavored, I was sure she’d hate the flavorless tabs that dissolve under her tongue. Luckily she can take them a few times a day (they are homeopathic) so she likes them better now than the Kid’s Claritin she used to beg me to take twenty times a day (my daughter LOVES taking medicine. Is that weird?!) The toothpaste was seriously stressing me out because only the mint flavors, fennel and cinnamon were approved and I knew she’d hate mint. I hate fennel flavor so I couldn’t imagine she’d be into it. Thankfully she loved it, and now she wants to brush her teeth multiple times a day.

Every time a substitution happens seamlessly I think that maybe, just maybe, I can do this. It requires so much forethought, and so much planning, but I’ve been practicing bringing my own food everywhere this summer, so I just have to extend that thinking to birthday parties and other social events where the food is provided and free.

It’s obvious that school and after care are going to be the biggest challenges. I have no idea yet if birthday treats are a regular occurrence at school, or if the teacher passes out candies and treats as prizes. I am really hoping that these won’t be a big problem because the school serves mostly low-income immigrant families and the teachers don’t make nearly as much as they should. I’m hoping there won’t be too much to deal with in the classroom, and at the school, in general because of this. After care is another story.

I hated having to be the parent that came up on the first afternoon and explained that my daughter couldn’t have the food they would be serving. I just hate being the person that makes someone else’s life harder than it was before. And I get that it’s not my fault and I get they should be happy to comply, but I also get it makes things hard and complicated and it’s just one more thing that a bunch of underpaid city employees have to think about while they try to herd 30+ early elementary kids through the afternoon. So while I don’t feel guilty, I do wish I didn’t have to be that parent.

It’s been two weeks and I think things having been going pretty well at after care. I don’t think they’ve given my daughter anything during snack time and I don’t believe they’ve started the cooking units (I’m not sure how I’m going to navigate that shit show). And then on Friday I went to pick up my girl and the woman with the clipboard told me that she gave my daughter a popsicle earlier because it was hot and everyone else was getting one and she felt bad for her.

Now the truth is, my daughter would have flipped her shit if she had not been given a popsicle and she’d have come home so mad about it my husband probably would have put his foot down and given a definitive NO on following the diet away from home. So I was glad the woman had given her the frozen goodie, and I appreciated that she gave her a “white” one in hopes of avoiding dyes. I actually thanked her for doing that, grabbed my daughter and let without thinking much about it. We’ve only been doing the diet for a few weeks and were just phasing out some stuff, so I honestly didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.

About 45 minutes later, at her grandparents’ house, my daughter had the most epic meltdown I have seen in months. She totally lost her shit. But it was strange because she wasn’t being aggressive–she wasn’t trying to hit, kick or bite me–it was quite literally as if she didn’t have any control over how she acted. She even said, “I don’t like feeling like this!” She was genuinely trying to talk with me about a possible solution to the problem that had set her off, she just couldn’t manage it. She was really upset that it was all going down the way it was, and my heart broke for her to see her so out of control. I immediately thought of the popsicle and wondered if it was the cause. I know correlation does not equal causation, but I think it’s interesting that her first big blow up happened hours after she at some cheap popsicle. I’m glad I’m keeping a detailed food and behavior journal so I can track when episodes like this happen.

And I will admit that I feel more determined now than ever to stick to this diet for at least six weeks, to see if these additives really do cause my daughter to feel angry and out of control. Watching her struggle to be the person she wanted to be, and not understanding why she couldn’t do it, was a real turning point for me. I am more committed than ever to keep her diet clean, and to work with her to develop the social/emotional skills she needs to be more in control when her big feelings make it hard.

I spent the weekend putting together a “treat bag” to give to both her teacher and the after care program, with any special food item I could imagine them giving the kids. I’ll still be packing her her own snack, but I hope having a few other special goodies on hand will help them to stick to the restrictions even during special circumstances. I’m drafting letters to send to both the teacher and the after care program. I hate being that parent, but it looks like I’m going to have to be.

{Hey yo! I just wrote 1500 words on my elliptical!}

Dissent

I needed an extra hour at work yesterday so I asked my in-laws meet me at my daughter’s after care. Then I forgot my phone at work and was really late, so they arrived before me. The first thing out of my daughter’s mouth when I walked up was, “Mommy, I’m mad because Ms. J said I couldn’t have snack like all the other kids because of my special diet. I hate my special diet.” And that was how my in-laws were alerted to current plan of action.

My husband went over there last night to grab the cloth diapers they forgot and ended up staying a long time. I knew that whatever was going down over there, it wasn’t good.

I’ll probably never know exactly what was said at my in-laws place. All I do know is that now my husband is not sure if the negative social/emotional experience of being “left out” and “different” is worth the possible gains of following this diet strictly. He’s fine with us doing it at home, but he’s not sure he will support making our daughter follow it at school, after care or any other social situation (like the birthday party last week). He says he didn’t realize it had to be followed so strictly. And when I ask if he thinks thing have gotten better, he throws it back in my face saying that if things are already improving and we aren’t following it strictly yet (we’re still using Grape Flavored Kid’s Claritin and Strawberry flavored Tom’s of Maine Toothpaste, to name a few things we still need to change) then why do we need to adhere completely to the diet at all?

I think you can imagine how this conversation went. 

But honestly, it’s hard for me to argue with that.

I mean sure, it would be great to know how awesome it could be. But if things are better now without turning our lives completely upside down, maybe I should just ease up and enjoy this improvement.

I acknowledged that this sucks for our daughter. I know how shitty it is to follow a strict elimination diet. Of course I don’t know what it’s like to do that when you’re 5-years old and just starting Kindergarten. Honestly, I don’t think she feels weird or different or judged by the kids. Mostly I think she just wants to eat whatever they are eating. She is VERY motivated by junk food.

Unfortunately she seems to be too young and unaware to realize that she has been in a better mood for the past week. When I ask if she feels better she immediately says that her cough isn’t as bad. She can’t seem to recognize that she isn’t a raging bitch anymore, that she’s actually pleasant to be around for most of the day.

I told my husband that he should look into the diet more carefully and decide what he’s comfortable with. I also told him that if he decides it isn’t in our daughter’s best interest to follow the diet strictly, and she eventually backslides into her past destructive behavior (or it becomes clear that she’s struggling to meet the social or educational demands put upon her in Kindergarten) that HE will have to be the one to research possible solutions AND he will be one to follow through on them, even if that means taking time of work to take her to appointments or therapies. I made clear it wasn’t an ultimatum, I’m simply unwilling to spend hundreds of hours of my life searching for strategies if he’s unwilling to really give this a try.

I’m so annoyed and frustrated with my in-laws right now. I understand that they only have our daughter’s best interest at heart, but it’s clear that sometimes they confuse “current happiness” with “long term contentment.” Sure it sucks for her right now, but if this helps her focus, levels her moods and reduces her anxiety, she’ll be better off for it. And honestly, if she continues acting the way she does, she’ll isolate and ostracize herself because no one will want to be around with that kind of attitude. She already struggles in social situations and has no real meaningful connections with anyone in her peer group. If she weren’t so irritable, with such rigid expectations, she might actually be able to make a friend. Wouldn’t that be worth eating a slightly different snack than everyone else?

If the diet doesn’t end up making a significant difference, she can start eating what everyone else is eating, and in a month she won’t remember that she had to eat a different snack for a few months.

And now it’s midnight and tomorrow is the first day of school, AND Back to School Night, AND I have en emotional hangover.

Life has such perfect timing.

Have your in-laws (or parents) ever overstepped their bounds in frustrating ways? How do you handle it when they don’t support your parenting?

New Year

This is my twelfth time starting a new school year. I’m sure it’s easier than it was in the early years, but with all the requirements from home it doesn’t feel that much easier.

I definitely don’t feel nervous about welcoming the kids tomorrow, or filling the time in my five classes. I’m not even nervous about Back to School Night. (Yes, it’s on the first day of school. Yes it’s crazy.) But there is this undercurrent of stress, this clenching of teeth, this erupting over minor disturbances, these tears falling semi-regularly.

It’s just a lot. A lot starting my daughter in Kindergarten. A lot attempting this diet. A lot starting a new school year. A lot dealing with in-laws who are taking care of our son again (only until he’s two and can start at preschool/daycare–thank god!) A lot trying not to destroy my marriage (I’ve come close).

It’s just a lot. My house looks like a hurricane hit it. The laundry is piling up. I haven’t figured out yet when anything is going to get done. I wake up at 6am, spend 90 minutes getting my daughter (and myself) ready for school. I high tail it to work at peak commuting time. I try to get more done at work than fits in the hours because I can’t stay later, even when I need to. I watch the clock until it’s time to go, pick up my daughter from after care before meeting my in-laws with my son at home (yes we are so lucky that they drive him home–did I mention it’s only two months until my son can start daycare? Help from family is always a double edged sword). Then it’s trying to make dinner while my kids attempt to brutalize each other. And then trying to get them to eat dinner without making myself crazy. And then counting the hour and a half until bedtime.

I never see my son. I miss my son.

It feels like there are no moments for me. And it’s exhausting. I’m not sure yet when I’ll exercise, let alone pick up the living room or fold laundry.

It’s a long day, for all of us. I’m sure we’ll find a rhythm. I’m sure it will be okay. But right now, it feels overwhelming.

It turns out I struggle as much with transitions as my daughter does. I just want to fast forward a month, when everything feels more manageable. The in between time will feel looooong, and be rough.

Hopeful

When I started implementing the no-additives diet I wondered what changes I hoped to see in my daughter’s behavior. There were moments I worried I wouldn’t recognize an subtle improvement and might not even realize the diet was helping.

Then this weekend happened.

On Saturday my daughter was like a different kid. She was nice, affable, fun to be around. She laughed easily and made me laugh. She told me she loved me. Multiple times. She engaged her brother on his terms. She mentioned that she liked hanging out with him and found him enjoyable to be around. She took initiative and solved problems without asking for help, when before she would have whined until it was done for her. She was flexible and never got frustrated. Dinner was pleasant. Getting ready for bed was a game. She joked around. She told me she loved me again. And again. And again.

Mom, I love you.

It was like she was a different kid.

We’ve only been doing the diet for a week. Less than that really, and we haven’t strictly enforced it as we figured things out. Maybe this magical day had nothing to do with the diet (my husband’s take–he’s still not really on board), but I’m going to believe it did because it gives me hope and helps me keep going.

Sunday wasn’t as wonderful, but it was still a lot better than most days. We had our first really challenging diet moments at a birthday party when my daughter fixated on the marshmallows she couldn’t eat for a long time. I could tell she felt left out when she had to eat an ice cream sandwich instead of the cupcakes everyone else enjoyed (I tried to make her cupcakes at home but it just didn’t work out). But when we got home she was over it quickly and she still did have a good time at the party with her friends. I feel for her because I know how much it sucks to be the odd person out when it comes to food. I wish she didn’t have to be that kid, but if it really does help her feel better, it’s worth it.

Last week was REALLY hard for a lot of reasons. I’m so hoping that this week continues to remind us why we’re doing this, because it’s not easy, and it really helps to have hope.

Is there anything that you feel hopeful about right now?

Struggling

Sorry for the absence from this space. Things have been hectic and at the end of the day I just don’t feel like writing much.

The reality is I’m kind of struggling right now and I don’t write much anymore when I’m struggling. I’ve learned not to put myself out there in certain ways–my words have been used against me too many times, even by people who claim to understand that this space is mine and that what is said here does not represent who I am. I just don’t feel comfortable writing some things, and that is probably for the best.

My daughter’s first day of Kindergarten was… challenging. She got sick the day before and was running a fever of 101. I was heartsick because I know how important the first day, especially for a kid who gets herself worked up into an emotional mess before big transitions. So the next morning when she woke up with a hellacious cough and a continued fever I dumped a bunch of acetaminophen down her throat and sent her off even though she felt like shit. Once it was clear I wasn’t going to accept the “I’m sick” excuse she started crying that she was “really nervous.” Obviously she had a cold, but I wonder if some of the fever wasn’t a result of her emotional turmoil. She has missed two of her own birthday celebrations (they had to be cancelled) because she got sick the night before. I think she may be the kind of kid that works herself up so much she has a physical reaction. (I used to be like that.)

She was in much better shape when I picked her up. She said she loved Kindergarten and that her teacher is super nice.

It’s gone downhill since then. Now the afternoon/evening is peppered with reasons she hates Kindergarten and hates After Care even more. It’s been a hard transition for her, to be sure.

We also started the no additives diet. I’ve communicated to the after school program that she can’t eat their snacks and I send her with her own. This has already caused some problems (my daughter getting upset because she can’t have the gummies they are eating), but honestly I’d rather start now so they get used to it from the beginning, even though it probably makes my daughter hate after care more.

I drafted an email to my in-laws about the diet but my husband has to check it before we send it. I don’t think they are going to take it very well. They will surely have many judgement laden questions to ask. I just hope they follow it, even if they do judge us.

I was hoping we’d see some positive changes in the first days but so far there hasn’t been much to show for our efforts. If anything this week has been harder than most, but I suppose that is to be expected.

Also, this particular diet eliminates a lot of fruits because they contain salicylates, which some children are sensitive to. Unfortunately almost all the fruits my daughter actually eats are on the no-no list (apples, grapes, oranges, berries of any kind). She doesn’t eat any vegetables so if we take these out she will get no fruits or veggies except banana and mango (neither of which she is willing to eat right now). We decided not to take them out completely for the time being, and if we’ve seen no improvement in four weeks we’ll take them out for a month and see if that helps.

I will admit that after an initial period of not expecting this to help, I suddenly was sure it would be our ticket out of this struggle. Now, I’m back to feeling like it probably won’t do anything but drive my shopping budget up a couple hundred dollars a month. Honestly right now I’m feeling pretty hopeless.

Speaking of my budget, I know I am a couples weeks deliquent on posting my spending and honestly, I’m not sure when, or even if, it’s going to happen. The reality is I’m in a pretty negative head space about it (that and a lot of things) and it’s becoming a source of personal resentment, not inspiration or accountability. So I’m just tabling it until I’m out of this headspace. I know it was helpful for a lot of reasons–and I still want and need to focus on my spending to improve our financial situation–but I’m kind of done putting my spending on display to be judged. It’s not that anyone said anything that upset me, it’s just a lot of pressure to put up every transaction I make. I think it was causing me undue stress and I either have to stop doing it or enter a different mindset about it.

So yeah, I’m struggling. With a lot of things. I knew the transition back to school would be hard for all of us but I did not anticipate it being this hard. And I’m not comfortable really going into how deep or dark this hole is right now. The one thing I do know is I’ll climb out. I always do. My dark times are cyclical and I always cycle lowest at the start of a new school year which is a very stressful, uncertain time. Add in my daughter’s stress and it’s no surprise I’m feeling this way. I just need to trudge through and eventually I’ll find myself on the other side. In the meantime a lot of reading and TV watching will happen in place of writing, because I’ve learned that writing doesn’t help me out of this kind of space, it mostly leads to me posting something I later regret.

Who knows, maybe tomorrow I’ll regret this.