Tag Archives: Sleep deprivation

Laundry Mountains and Joy in the Journey

Photo Apr 12, 12 02 36 PM

Mount Laundry

Somedays I feel like I am engaged in a never-ending battle with laundry. As I looked at my kitchen table this morning, covered with piles upon piles of clothing; I may or may not have silently compared it to an insurmountable mountain.

Don’t misunderstand: I was grateful that my family has ample clothing to wear and that I was looking at clean laundry instead of piles of dirty. And folding laundry always makes my heart swell with gratitude, pride, and love for the little people and loving husband that fill the very clothes I am engaged in battle with. However, most days I have a hard time appreciating those seemingly-infinite piles.

My guys have been sick this week and sleep has been rare, but this morning I found myself up early enjoying the quiet; stacking mound upon mound of laundry.  Once the boys were up, I abandoned the piles and got busy with cuddles, juice cups, and breakfast.  I shooed them away from the table once or twice in fear that my piles might come tumbling down, but toddlers are persistent to a fault and they found their way back there when I was was not looking.  And then, just as they so often do, they challenged my perspective. They might not appreciate the fact that I do laundry so that they have clean clothes to wear, but today they appreciated my insurmountable mountain.  Except where I saw a battle, they saw adventure: an opportunity to explore.

“Look, Kai!  Look at the city…” I heard Keilan whisper in an awe-filled voice.

“Wow.” Kai murmured in response.

Photo Apr 12, 9 02 11 AM

Looked like a pile of pajamas to me, but my guys saw it as a breathtaking skyscraper. ❤

And then they stood for a number of mesmerized moments admiring those beautiful towers and the “roads” between them.

“Kai! Whoa! Look at THAT tower!”

“Keilan! Look!  Look at that path!”

I still shooed them away before any of those towers came tumbling down, but I did it with a smile and with a newfound joy in today’s journey.

Love those boys.

Love how they challenge my perspective.

Love how they help me appreciate the journey even when I get caught up in the challenges and doldrums.  And I love how they help me find joy in this journey of life and love that we’re on.

 

"LOOK! Kai, look at the city!"

Confession: these laundry piles lasted on the table for more than just an hour or two. But we didn’t let our laundry mountain get in the way of our lunch. These boys LOVED their picnic amidst the laundry city 😉

Joy in Exhaustion

I have two toddlers. I teach kindergarten. Being a mother and a teacher represent things about myself that I am immensely proud to call mine.  They represent challenges and accomplishments. They represent stress, sleep loss, and joy.

Just this morning, I was thinking about how I had not posted anything here in a long time. I had also briefly reflected on why: was I unable to find joy in my journey or just unable to find the time or energy to document it?  I think the honest answer is that both might be true.  My life is not without joy; however, there is also worry, dirty laundry, frustration, potty training, and exhaustion that sometimes derail me from finding (and documenting) joy in my everyday adventures.

So, that was what I was thinking about this morning. And along with those reflections, I may have said a quick prayer, silently vowing to “find” some joy today.  Then the day got rolling: the living room needed vacuuming, arguing brothers needed mediating, lunch needed making, and pretty soon the boys needed to wind down for nap-time.  Though Keilan is out-growing naps, his almost-four-year-old self still benefits from a little quiet rest-time each day.  I brought the boys upstairs, but they were not in the mood for rest–and I was not in the mood for convincing them to be. So I went downstairs, hoping that they would magically fall asleep.  Instead, Patrick volunteered to go upstairs and rest with them while I ate my lunch.  I enjoyed a few peaceful moments by myself, and then I decided that I should go check on the boys.

Caught!

Caught!

When I cracked open the bedroom door, I saw Kai asleep in his crib and Patrick sound asleep in Keilan’s bed; while Keilan played with his toys beside him.  Though I might have been just a little bit irritated at Patrick’s “help,” I had to stifle a smile.  After all, he is just as exhausted as I am, and Keilan’s “I just got caught face” was too adorable.  So I decided that rather than fight about nap-time or tell Patrick to wake up, I whispered for Keilan to join me downstairs.  I told him that he didn’t need to worry about nap-time but that he still needed to rest. I told him that I wanted to rest too so I was going to put on a movie and we were going to rest together.  Much to my surprise, my little man who is growing bigger and more independent each day, curled up next to me on the couch, and pretty soon he was sound asleep laying on my chest.  And there it was: joy.  Joy in precious snuggly moments: joy in being his mom. Joy that I would have missed if I had been cranky about nap-time not going the way I had planned.  And the best part? I was totally and completely trapped under my sleeping toddler. I couldn’t move without waking him up: I was unable to change loads of laundry, work on lesson plans for school, pick up the toy room, or do the lunch dishes.  There was my answer to prayer: I had “found” the joy I was looking for and the exhaustion that so easily derails it had been addressed too. I was “forced” to take a nap; under the weight of a sweet, sleepy toddler.

I can’t promise that my posts will be more frequent because of this incident; but there was reason to celebrate joy in my journey today.  And today joy was found in a moment that might not have happened if everything had gone according to my schedule; so it was also a reminder to enjoy the journey: to find joy, even in the unplanned adventures of each day.

Joyful Snuggles

Perfect

I did not get much sleep last night…or the night before.  Keilan’s sleep patterns have been true to his three-year-old-self lately.  Often he is up for HOURS wanting nothing more than to bounce and play and read and sing and…. And in the few short moments where he rests quietly, inevitably, something like his brother’s cold symptoms will keep us awake. A few months ago, one particular night, Keilan was up NUMEROUS (a term used to describe a number that is at once large and also ambiguous due to exhaustion and frustration) times screaming and crying: “It hurts! It hurts! Mom, help me!!!”  After NUMEROUS attempts to console him, I came to the conclusion that there was really nothing I could do to “help,” and Keilan was entirely unable or unwilling to tell me what the “it” was that was hurting him.  But the most absurd thing happened the following morning as I was reflecting on the sleep I had (or had not had) the previous night: the most ridiculous word came to mind.  In my mind I qualified the sleep as short, disjointed, insufficient…and perfect.

If a sleepless night with unhappy boys does not sound perfect to you, I understand. I blame my three-year-old for causing the word “perfect” to come to my mind.  He has an incredible ability to see the perfection in the imperfect around us each day.

We recently stayed with a friend of ours who had moved into a rental property while looking for a more permanent place.  While staying at his home, he listed off all of the reasons he was hesitant to stick with this property; all of the things that he would choose differently in his next home.  Also, being new to this home, his furniture was sparse, and so I had my messy, little boys sit on the floor in the kitchen when it was time for them to eat.  Uncle Adam, as my boys call him, is kind and compassionate; but I still didn’t want to risk a mess on his carpeted dining room floor.  A large cardboard box served nicely as a table, and the boys were thoroughly impressed with their mealtime set-up.  Keilan found this to be the best thing that had ever happened, and one morning, around bites of blueberry muffin, he informed me: “Uncle Adam has a perfect house.”  And so it was.  It was filled with friends and family and fun…and it was perfect.  Maybe the split-level set-up was a little unusual, maybe the space was larger than necessary, maybe the empty walls were looming, but it was the location of our little-boy-approved breakfast picnic and it was “perfect.”

Often Keilan reminds us of all the perfection around us. After a recent trip out of town, Keilan sat out on our deck admiring the way the wood in the deck was a little “squishy” and the particular way the paint on the side of the house was peeling.  “Mom. Our house is perfect.  It is builded. And it is perfect.”  Keilan, in his insightful way, declared our imperfect home “perfect” in all its imperfections simply because it existed, it was “builded,” and it was ours. And though it is easy for me to see all the things our house is lacking; when I glimpse through his three-year-old lens, focused in on the family that fills our home, I can see its perfection as well.

If you are feeling overcome with feelings of discontent, I dare you to spend a day with my little man.  When traveling in the car with him, he will declare each hill you come to as, “The biggest hill EVER!” And he will accept the blueberry donut you hand him with the most winsome grin and declare: “That’s the special one ever.” (In those exact, grammatically incorrect words that speak of his youth and sweet sincerity.)  And I know, from experience, that you will grin from ear to ear and your heart will be full when he announces from the backseat of the van: “Mommy, you know what favorite letter I love? The letter ‘G’!!! That’s the perfect one for me!”

The word “perfect” can mean many things. One of Webster’s definitions of the word reads: “As good as it is possible to be.” And while I am pretty sure that there are things I would change about my current, sleepless nights; I have also come to appreciate another definition: “Highly suitable for someone or something; exactly right.”  I have come to accept this definition of perfection because that same little boy who has kept me awake so many nights, has also taught me about looking past annoyance and declaring perfection.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am exhausted.  I would REALLY, REALLY, REALLY appreciate a good night’s sleep; and maybe a few hours “away” from my little guys to rest and recoup my energy.  But as I reflect on the annoyances of being kept awake night after night, I am overcome by the love I have for my little boys, by the great privilege it is to be the one that they call for in the middle of the night, and by the possibility that even my sleep-deprived, caffeine-induced existence just might be “perfect.”

I will choose to find joy in this sleepless part of my journey as I embrace the belief that these boys, this time of life, and the challenges that they bring are “exactly right” for me. After all, as much as I may think I know what is “perfect” for me, I have found time and again that God’s plans are greater than mine. And when I trust in Him to lead me, I am reassured by the words of Jeremiah 29:11, “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Image

No, they don’t share a bed. But this photo still somehow captures how my three-year-old feels about sleep…

Opportunities Given and Hugs Received

I believe that joy is found in the journey; not just in the destinations. And what makes that joy along the way so great is that sometimes we find it in places where we least expect it, and at times when we aren’t necessarily experiencing joy’s conditional counterpart, happiness.

Friday afternoon, I received a, “Just thought you should know,” text from my childcare provider; warning me that Keilan had been coughing and sneezing all afternoon.  He seemed ok when I went to pick him up.  But he slept all the way home, and after I carried him in the house, he didn’t want to move from his daddy’s lap. Before dinner, I realized that he had a low-grade fever and by the next morning, he was undeniably “sick.”  In fact, he spent most of the weekend crying. He laid on the couch silently sobbing, occasionally calling out: “Mommy, I no feeling so well.”  And, “Mommy, help!  Why you not making me feel better?”  It has been a long weekend.  Which brings me to that joy that finds you in those moments that are not particularly happy…

My Little Man <3 So Miserable... But Still So Cute

My Little Man ❤
So Miserable…
But Still So Cute

Last night, Patrick and I were planning to go out with friends.  I had my sister lined up to watch the boys.  I was definitely looking forward to a night out.  A night out would have made me happy.  But I sent Patrick out instead, rocked Kai to sleep for the night, and hunkered down with my three-year-old guy for a long night of anything-I-can-do-to-make-Keilan-feel-better.  And there we were.  I felt some joy, even as I sent Patrick on his way, at the opportunity I have been given to be “Mom:” to be the one that Keilan would inevitably cry for and to be the one who just might be able to bring him some comfort simply by being there with him.  But don’t get me wrong, I was also very disappointed to be missing out on time with friends. And I was exhausted.

My little guy cried and cried and cried. He finally fell asleep, but his sleep was fitful and only lasted for an hour.  When he woke up, his temperature was high and he shivered violently, crying inconsolably.  I fought back tears of my own as I would have done anything to make my little man feel better; this was not a happy time. And then, right there, in the middle of all that sadness; joy.  As I helped Keilan get dressed after a quick, cooling bath, he threw his arms around my neck, and whispered: “I wuv you, Momma.”  His sweet, unsolicited proclamation of love took me by surprise, and I returned his hug with a heartfelt: “I love you too, Baby.”  And then, he squeezed me a little tighter and began singing, “I wuv you. You wuv me. We’re a happy family…” and then he trailed off with a sigh; placing his head on my shoulder.  And there it was: joy.  I didn’t make it out with my friends, I was (and still am!) utterly exhausted from sleep lost the last two nights, and it was devastating to see my little man so miserable.  However, in that moment, I found joy in my journey.

There might be more to say, and more to think, but for now…I am just embracing that moment of joy in a weekend that was not-so-fun.  I am grateful for the opportunity to be Mom.  I will treasure that late-night moment of love that I shared with my little man.  And I will continue to search for joy in my journey; in gratitude for opportunities given and hugs received.

Sunday Night Trip to Urgent Care: Big Yawn and a Double Ear Infection

Sunday Night Trip to Urgent Care:
Big Yawn and a Double Ear Infection

Diapers, Dissertations, and Dreams

When I first thought about this blog, I thought about titling it: “Diapers, Dissertations, and Dreams” …because I like alliteration 😉 But also because it captured two of my dreams for this year, two pieces to my current journey: being a mom and being a student. Today is the last day of this school year.  This means it is the last day of my sabbatical leave from my teaching job: the last day of my “rest” from the “usual” to complete my dissertation. This makes today a day of reflection.

When I think about this year, my emotions are overwhelming.  I feel so blessed to have had this opportunity to take a year of “rest.”  I feel entirely frustrated that I was not more productive: my dissertation, my reason for this break, is still a long way from completion. And my principal internships went well, but I still have not met with the licensing board to attain my principal’s license.  However, alongside that frustration, there are also immense feelings of gratitude.  I am so grateful to have had this time with my boys. Though this year did not bring a new degree, it did bring a new, miraculous baby boy into our family. And not only did it bring us a healthy baby boy, this year provided me with time to be at home with Kai in these first few months of his life.

To be perfectly honest, today is a difficult day: reflection often is.  I find myself crying through much of today. I have cried tears of regret over things not finished followed by tears of gratitude for the blessing of things so much better than I could have ever imagined.  There have been tears over things lost and things gained.

I feel regret that not only was I unable to finish my dissertation during this sabbatical leave, I was also rather unsuccessful at improving my house-making skills with the additional time: unfortunately the laundry still isn’t finished and the house is only moderately clean. And at the same time, I feel exhausted; as though keeping up with two boys every day was challenge enough in itself.

However, in the midst of the regrets and exhaustion, there is joy and blessing too. Each time Keilan says something adorable (which is ALL the time), I am flooded with joy at this amazing little guy who God chose to bless our family with. I remember all the good times we have had this year: fingerpainting, reading, snuggling on the couch after nap time, taking trips to Target, sharing sweet lunch conversations, building forts, and knocking down towers; and I am overjoyed to have had this time to enjoy everyday life with this little boy and his brother.

I feel I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t confess that I also find myself suppressing feelings of dread; knowing that I will soon return to my teaching job full-time and will miss out on some of these precious, everyday moments.  But, with that confession stated, I will actively choose to remember all that I have to be grateful for.  I am, once again, so grateful to have had this extra time with my boys; and I am also so grateful to have an opportunity to return to teaching: a calling I feel honored to answer.

So, today, my journey finds me in a time of reflection. This is the end of my sabbatical year, but it is not the end of my work, nor is it the end of my dreams. My dissertation may not be finished yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be eventually. Those diapers? I’m changing oh so many of those…and I’m oh so glad to do it 😉  I’m a mom. I’m a student. I’m an educator. I’m many other things as well, and I’m on a journey.

I have challenged myself to keep this blog as a place to record my search for joy on that journey. Merrian-Webster defines joy as, “The emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires.”

I may not yet possess all of my “desires” (i.e. this degree or 8 hours of sleep a night), but if I continue to trust that God’s plans are greater than mine (Proverbs 3:5,6; Jeremiah 29:11) and if I align my desires with His, than I can certainly find hope and joy in the “prospect” of attaining those desires (Psalm 37:4).  And I will move forward from this sabbatical year joyfully: grateful for all of the times of “well-being, success, and good fortune” that I have already experienced and hopeful about the “prospect” of good things to come.

This picture was not posed: one day I watched my little man climb into a tub to read...and his book of choice? The Dissertation Journey :)

This picture was not posed: one day I watched my little man climb into a tub to read…and his book of choice?
The Dissertation Journey
🙂

Joy in the journey of a teacher…

Today is the end of the school year for a number of people that I know.  Most people recognize the end of the year as an exciting time for students and families. But what they may not realize, is that the end of the school year is a really hard time for most teachers.  I did not have a “typical” teaching year this year, but I still feel the weight of this season. And I offer my fellow teachers a virtual high-five and a great big hug too.  There is certainly joy in the journey of a teacher, but that joy is often complicated at the close of the school year.

“You’re lucky you’re a teacher. I wish I had the summers off.”  Is a common phrase uttered by the family members and friends of teachers at this time of year. And while I understand that there is a great freedom that comes from having a few weeks off each summer, those who are quick to profess these feelings of envy clearly do not understand what makes one “lucky” to be a teacher.

What few people understand is that the end of the school year is hard on teachers.  When the last bus has left and the halls are empty, you might expect to see teachers dancing down the halls, doing cartwheels of relief and joy over the successful completion of yet another year.  However, in my experience, the hallways are often eerily quiet and teachers’ faces are solemn and puffy from a day full of good-byes and tears. Our students are important to us; we know what they are passionate about, what triggers can upset their day, and we know more “technical” details about their ability to learn than most people will ever begin to understand.

Although I typically feel a multitude of emotions on the last day of school, one of the strongest is a sense of loss. In the best of cases, there are the students who you know are headed home to summers full of fun and learning with their family and friends.  You know they will be happy, but they will be missed: you just spent somewhere in the vicinity of 1,000 hours with their smiling faces and their spunky personalities over the last nine months, and now you might never see them again. All students will be missed, but in some cases, there is more felt than just a desire to watch their futures unfold: there is the complication of concerns for children you care so deeply about. In some cases, you are filled with concern over the learning that might be lost as students spend much of their time alone or with their video games for enrichment.  In the worst of cases, you send some students home not knowing what their summers will bring.  Sometimes you know they might go hungry or you know each day will be a struggle to survive any number of tumultuous experiences over those summer months until the regularity of the school year begins again.  Sometimes you receive the promise of a social worker that regular wellness checks will be done, but that is rare.  Most of the time, you are helpless to do more than send them off with your prayers, a backpack full of snacks, and a new pair of flip flops you hope will remind them that they are important to you as they journey into their future; wherever that might be.

Tonight, many teachers will cry themselves to sleep because they didn’t become teachers for the summers off. They became teachers because they had a passion for teaching and for students; for the students they have loved and protected and taught for the past nine months. The ones who are now out of their care for the summer.

Tomorrow morning, teachers will wake up with headaches from crying themselves to sleep and from sleep deprivation brought on by the past week of late nights: finishing report cards, making memory books for their students, and planning the last field trip of the year.  They will feel exhausted both physically and emotionally as they head to their classrooms to pack up another year of memories.  They will leave the school building late in the day, many will return next week to finish packing and cleaning, and they will meet their friends to celebrate another year.  There will be reason to celebrate. There will be joy at the accomplishments of the year, there will be the hope of a summer to heal, and there will also be gratitude for the opportunity to begin all over again in the fall.

So, if you know a teacher who is finishing up the school year, offer him or her an extra hug this week…and, in my experience, gifts of caffeine are always appreciated as well.  As a teacher, I know that I am “lucky” but I also know that it isn’t because of the summers off.  We aren’t paid over the summer, and consequently, many teachers are forced to find work over the summer; either teaching summer school or at other seasonal or part-time jobs.  And for those who don’t work, there will certainly be work to do: researching ways to improve our teaching and searching Pinterest for great new bulletin board ideas and literacy center work.  Summers are great, but our students are great-er 🙂  They are the reason we do the work we do.  We are lucky because we have the awesome, humbling opportunity to impact the future by impacting these little lives entrusted to us. Teachers, today, hang on to the joy in your journey: in your calling and your work. And allow yourself to feel joy in the gift of a summer to rest and repair.

teacher pic

A healthy dose of laughter

Keilan has a straw hat that he loves to wear around the house. It is far too small. But he must find a certain pride in wearing it because every time I put it away, he pulls it out again. And each time, with a winsome grin, he plops it on his head and shouts a hearty, “Yee Haw!”

Keilan found his hat again today, and after a few whoops and circles run around the living room, he plopped down on the floor next to Logan, our 8 year old poshie (pomeranian & sheltie mix).  Logan has been a good big sister to both our little guys, and she is quite tolerant of their antics; so she simply gave Keilan a glance that was only a touch more than apathetic and looked the other way.

As Logan looked away, I saw something happen. I saw an idea dawn and excitement spread across Keilan’s face. In one swift motion, he lifted the hat from his head and landed it on Logan’s.  Being the patient pooch that she is, she gave him an indignant look; but made no effort to move. Keilan took one look at Logan and began to laugh.  It was a wonderful laugh that came from the pit of his belly, and it rolled out of him until he began to roll on the floor; simply beside himself with this wonderful new joke that he had played.  Although I joined in with his contagious laughter until tears ran down my face, I did eventually rescue Logan, and Keilan was devastated. But only momentarily.

Just as quickly as his first idea had dawned, the second seemed to leap to his mind as well, and he leapt off the floor and over toward his four-month-old brother.  The straw hat landed on Kai’s head, who wobbled as only a four-month-old can, and he grinned up at his big brother.  Keilan met his grin by doubling over with the most genuine of laughter, stemming from the most genuine type of delight.

I think, in that moment, Keilan learned something about telling a joke, about manipulating his world in such a way that it brings laughter and joy.

As I attempted to protect the head of my four month old, without destroying the excitement of my two year old, I became his next victim.  I saw the gleam build in his eyes as he contemplated how this joke had been funny on both the dog and on his brother; and how it would surely be equally hilarious on his mom.  As the hat landed on my head, he landed on the floor; once again, beside himself with the joy of the moment.  What was fabulous about this laugh was that it was not the canned laughter that comes after a terrible joke on late night television: this was the real thing, straight from the pit of a two-year-old’s tummy.

To be honest, much about today was less than awesome.  Both boys had difficulty sleeping last night; which meant I started the day feeling tired. We were without electricity for about 6 hours today; which meant meal prep was difficult, the laundry had to wait, I couldn’t make a pot of coffee, and my phone went uncharged. Patrick worked at both his jobs today so it was just me and my guys from breakfast until bedtime without Dad around to help. This evening was spent with my in-laws, who had power, but are struggling to make it through each day as my mother-in-law creeps closer and closer to the end of her horrific battle with ALS.

Some days are challenging, and today was just one of those days.  Don’t get me wrong; the day had some good points too, but overall, I’d only give this day a 5 on a 10 point scale of awesomeness.

However, as I remember today, I will choose to call to mind that silly straw hat and my baby boy’s full-bodied, belly laugh rather than the not-so-awesome stuff.  Proverbs 17: 22, says that “Laughter does good, like a medicine,” and today I got a healthy dose. The journey isn’t always joyful, but there will always be joy in the journey. And today, that joy was in my little man’s laugh.

I was too busy enjoying the moment to get a recording of that amazing laughter, but I was fast enough to capture a few pics of Kei's handiwork...and hours later, the picture of us wearing his hat still made him double over with laughter :)

I was too busy enjoying the moment to get a recording of that amazing laughter, but I was fast enough to capture a few pics of Kei’s handiwork…and hours later, the picture of us wearing his hat still made him double over with laughter 🙂

Today, joy was a nap.

Today, joy was a nap. Kai has been an extremely pleasant, easy-going baby, and he has been sleeping through the night for weeks now: clearly, an over-achieving three month old.  However, for the past week he has decided to switch things up, and he has been getting up multiple times during the night again.  Last night he took a “nap” at 9:00, was up again by 10:00, and didn’t go to bed “for the night” until a little after 11:00.  He was up at 2:30, and again at 4:00.  We all slept from 5:00-7:00, when his brother started to stir, and I woke up with a killer headache.  Factor in a head cold and a snowstorm in April, and this could have been a recipe for disaster.  But it wasn’t.

This morning, after breakfast, I gave both boys a bath, and that’s when it happened: Kai took a nap.  He doesn’t often sleep well during the day, but today he did.  Just when I needed a “break,” I got one.  He slept long enough that I got to do some dishes; spend some overdue one-on-one time with Keilan; enjoy a cup of coffee while cuddling with Keilan & his favorite, Finding Nemo; have a nice, quite lunch (as quiet as lunch with a two-year-old boy can be!); and (thanks to their naps overlapping for almost half an hour) I even got to work out for 27 minutes before he woke up.

I’m still tired, and my sinuses are still declaring mutiny; but today I needed a little reprieve from life-as-usual, and I was given one.  Rather than bemoan my cold or wish I had been able to make my work out an even half hour, I will be grateful for the break I received and take joy in that.  Today, joy was a nap.

Joy was a nap.