Separation Anxiety

Reg is out of town this weekend. He's had to make a few work-related, overnight trips in the last couple of years. Once or twice he's been several states away while on business, but usually his trips are just a few hours away from home. This is one of those trips. And really, it doesn't matter if he's 500 miles away, or just over to the next county. My feelings are the same.
In the past (meaning before the last 2 years or so) it didn't bother me to be alone. I wouldn't sleep well the first night, but by the second night, I was okay with it. I could go about most of my day, with little worry, and not spend every moment wondering if he's okay, or when is he going to call, or thinking that I couldn't wait for his to be home to make me feel safe again.

I used to be strong and independent. I had to be. I was married and divorced at a young age, I had 2 small children at the time, and I had to be strong. Even once Reg and I were married, I was jaded. I couldn't trust fully that we would stay together, so I had to be strong.

In the youthful arrogance of my 20s, I thought that while I wanted him, I didn't need him. I could do it on my own, I thought. I could work and take care of a house and kids, and pay bills and get through every day on my own, if I have to. It was a wall I built around myself, 4 feet thick, made of the strongest stone there was, insulation from the fear of being alone.

In my 30s, after 10 years of marriage, I find myself without walls, without protection from the fear. Slowly, over those 10 years, his love and loyalty and protection broke down those walls. I NEED him. He is an extension of my body and my heart. He is my strength. He holds me up, like a steel truss in the structure that is our life together.

And now I see that he didn't tear down my walls at all. He simply replaced them with himself. He became my protection, my strength, my support.

Watch Dog

3 a.m. is entirely to early to be up on a Saturday, but I had little choice, since one of the dogs would.Not.Stop.Barking. Of course, now that I'm up, said dog is sleeping blissfully on the floor in front of the door. First, a definition for you:

an·thro·po·mor·phize  (nthr-p-môrfz)

v.intr.

To ascribe human characteristics to things not human.

So bear with me while I tell you a tale about a blue heeler named Mac. 

Mac is my youngest son's dog. Mac and Chas have been fast friends since my hubby brought Mac home to us in December of 2010. Mac thinks he's Top Dog around here. He picks fights with the other dogs, and usually gets his butt whipped by them in due course. He's not a gentle dog. He's overly playful, rambunctious, and big for his breed. He's very protective of the family in general, but he's protective of Chas most of all. Mac loves his boy. So tonight, I imagine Mac's incessant barking was a protective mechanism. Allow me to explain.

Reg is working out of town this weekend. He packed up his equipment and headed out to Checotah Oklahoma at about 7pm last night. Chas and I went to town and grabbed some dinner, came home and plopped in front of the TV and ate dinner, and went to bed at about 10. 

*WOOF!* *RUFF* *GRRRR-ARF!* For an hour or so, this goes on... I get up and let the dogs out. Two minutes later, they're at the door, barking again. Let them in. Go back to bed. Repeat every 7-10 minutes for about an hour and a half.

*Thump* *BARK!* Something made a scraping noise outside, and Mac is barking his head off at the front door. It's 11:30 p.m. and Chas is scared. I get up, arm myself, and go to check it out. Nothing. Maybe a cat. Trash can knocked over. Back to bed. Telling Mac to be quiet. Finally he listens, and we all go peacefully to sleep.

Or so I thought. I imagine Mac stayed up, keeping vigilant watch by the front door. Either something spooked him, or he just got too tired to stay awake any longer. At 3 a.m. he began barking in good earnest, and refused to stop until I was on my feet. I let the dogs out again, and make a check of the house. Everything is fine. Not even a cat is disturbing the gentle peace of the night. *Bark Bark Bark* comes from the back door, which I imagine means, "Let me in, I've checked out the backyard, and found everything to be in perfect order. My work here is done." Upon which time, I let him in, and he went to his accustomed spot by the front door, turned around three times, and plopped down with a self-satisfied sigh and went instantly to sleep. 

After all, he kept watch for his family for half the night, apparently now it's MY turn. And now that I was up, he could catch some shut-eye.

Wish I could.

Thank you, Mac, for protecting us from the Boogey Man... or would that be the Boogey Cat? :)

First Day Recap

The first day of school went well for everyone. Here's a rundown of the day:

Alarm goes off at 6 A.M.
I get up, get all the kids up, and walk them through their routines (Brush your teeth, eat your breakfast, do you have you papers? Did you remember to get your schedule off the fridge? Turn off the light in the bedroom! Hugs, Kisses, have a great first day!). Weston and Morgan climb on the bus at 6:45, and Chas gets on his bus at 7:45. What to do with all this free time on my hands?

8AM - 12:30PM:
Bake cookies. Start the laundry. Move all the appliances and scrub and sweep and mop under them (stove, fridge, dishwasher). Move the buffet and give it the same treatment. Tear apart the stove and clean it (My Gosh! How on earth did THAT get THERE? Ewwww!!!).

While the burners and other pieces to the stove were soaking in hot water, I decided I'd run the vacuum. Three times. And do the baseboards. And if you're gonna do the baseboards, you might as well wash the walls. So I did that too... Just in the kitchen though. I'm not completely crazy. Running the vacuum made me realize how bad my carpets stink (from the dogs) so I sprinkled pet odor remover on the carpet and let it sit for 15 minutes. While I waited, I dusted. The more I cleaned, the more dirt I found. I took the curtains down and threw them in the washer. Finished the vacuuming, and then tore apart the vacuum cleaner and cleaned it out. And then everything came to a SCREECHING halt.

12:30PM, Reg came home. In the middle of the day. And I completely lost focus. Ugh. And there I sat, with the vacuum cleaner all tore apart, the stove in the middle of the kitchen, and both sinks full to the brim, one soaking, one just full of vacuum cleaner parts. ~sigh~

Somehow, between 12:30 and 1:30, I managed to get everything finished up and put away, except for rehanging the curtains. It was so nice to have all the beautiful sunshine pouring in the windows. I went to town, ran some errands, stopped by a consignment shop, and came on home. Reg took off to work again, and the kids came home. I listened to them talk about their day, and my eyes started to cross. I couldn't focus on anything else. I. Was. DONE.

I took a short nap while the kids had their snacks and watched TV. Then I got up and cooked dinner. Weston did the dishes. All the kids did their bedtime routines, and got to bed on time. It's 9:47PM, and they are passed smooth out.

I had every intention of relaxing and doing nothing but enjoying my kid-free day. But suddenly, all these things needed done. NOW. ALL OF IT. SO, it's done. I think tomorrow I'll treat myself to a little retail therapy :)

School Daze, the Return

Tomorrow is the first day of the 2011-12 school year for my kids. All the supplies have been bought (grudgingly, and only what I CHOSE to send them to school with). They've been doled out and packed away in back packs. Outfits are laid out, paperwork is signed, everyone's had a bath, and it's 7 minutes until bedtime here in the Murray Household.

I know similar situations will take place all over the country in the next few weeks, and my household is no special exception. Except.
Except that my children are growing up too fast. They are big enough to get themselves up and ready for school. Big enough to carry a house-key and let themselves in if no one is home in the afternoon. Big enough to make their own after-school snack.

Weston is in 8th grade.
( Just typing that sentence made new gray hairs pop out on my head!)
He's nearly as tall as I am. He's decided not to participate in sports. He DECIDED. His Choice. Not mine. He has his reasons, and I understand them. But it was a shock to realize that he was big enough to make the choice, to talk about it rationally like an adult, to defend his position.

Morgan is in 7th grade.
(POP POP POP!!! More gray hairs.)
She is taking a Drama/Theater class this year. Perfect choice for her, my little drama queen. She asked me how to apply the make-up she's had since Christmas. She's showing an interest in becoming a young lady, instead of a tom-boy.

Chas is in 5th grade.
(Silence. Whew! I'm going gray fast enough already!)
It's his last year in elementary school.
(POP! ... I knew it.)
So, he has all the basic classes, plus archery. Yes, Archery. My little boy with a bow and arrows. Awesome!

As for me, I get one week of quiet time, one week of having the house to myself, until I also go back to school. One whole week. It's not enough! I haven't even considered what I might get done with that one week. I don't want to overload myself with things to do, especially knowing that after this week, quiet time will be a lot more limited, and filled up with school work. I'm taking Chemistry this semester, which is completely uncharted territory for me. Way scary! I also have Clinical Pathology Part Deux, which means more blood, urine and feces samples, along with other kinds of mysterious goo, I'm sure. Oh, the joy!

Here's hoping for another successful school year!

Slow down!

Some days, I’m so caught up in “doing”, I forget about “being.”

DOING the business things, like answering phone calls and scheduling appointments, and calming the client who has found yet another bat in her home. “Yes, Ma’am, I understand that this is the third bat you’ve found in your home this week. But under federal law, until all the baby bats have become flight capable, we can’t close up the access points. They would die. Yes, I know you’re frustrated. I’m frustrated for you, but I’m bound by laws, rules, regulations and protection acts that prevent me from evicting the bats RIGHT THIS SECOND.” 

Whew, crisis averted. 

“Yes Sir, I can reschedule your appointment for tomorrow afternoon (on the hottest day of the year, when my husband will have to traipse through your attic at 3 in the afternoon looking for a raccoon).” 

“Hello, Banker Lady who hasn’t called me back until now, 3 weeks later, and has bad news for me. Yes, thank you for your time, and thank you for crushing my dream of EVER becoming a homeowner.”

“Oklahoma Wildlife Control, can I help you?” CLICK. That one happens 4 times a day, every day. Aggravation.

“Hello, part-time employee who has called in at least once every week since we hired you. Your truck won’t start? Oh, well that’s ok, we’ll just have to reschedule THE HUGE JOB THAT SHOULD PAY LOTS OF money for next week.”

In DOING, I forget to just BE. Be a business owner, who should be happy when the phone rings, because those rings mean business, and money, and security and paid bills. Gas in the car. School supplies for the kids. The opportunity to grow as a business. I forget to BE thankful. I forget to BE a person, not just a robot who answers the phone. I forget to be thankful that this really sweet Banker Lady has spent countless hours of her time and her money and her resources to help me figure out the mess that is my credit, without ever charging me a penny. I forget to be thankful that we have an employee, who is just a kid, but biddable and a fast learner. He’s really doing a great job. I forget to BE compassionate. I forget to BE the person who can see things from more than one perspective, see past the end of my own nose.

In DOING all the mom-jobs and wifely-duties, I forget to BE thankful for dirty clothes and dirty dishes and dusty furniture and mud on the floor. I complain about the mountains or dirty laundry, and DO them, wash them, fold them, put them all away, But I forget to BE thankful that my family is active enough to get their clothes dirty, to track mud on the floor. Thankful that they are capable of opening the door that blows dust into the house.  Thankful that we had food in the house, that my children are capable of fixing their own lunch and creating dirty dishes. 

I forget to BE mom. To BE the person they can talk to, rely on for a smile or a hug. I forget to be a wife, to offer a hug and a kiss to my exhausted hubby when he comes in from work. I’m always DOING, I’m too busy, maybe later, don’t talk to me, can’t you see I’m on the phone? It’s a business call! Just a minute!

Whew. Slow down. Be. Stop doing. It’s ok to stop. It’s ok to breathe. It’s ok to play. It’s necessary!

These are the things I need to remember.