All. The. Routines., Mount Adultmore, and finally being able to breathe

The rain is dripping on the sky light window. I hear the ticking of the clock.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my blog, my platform, my audience, my words. I have ideas. All. The. Ideas.

I came up with a book idea. A really good one. One that I think I can actually do something official with – like scary book proposal official. This has provided clarity and focus for what I’m doing on blogging and social media. It’s honed my sight onto my target reader.

And I’ve been asking myself, “What does SHE want to hear? What does SHE need right now?” 

The question goes over and over in my mind.

I have several posts drafted for her. A post for the New Year. Another one, just a title, but one that I think she will relate to and enjoy. Another post drafted for special needs parents.

I’ve been putting a lot of extra effort into my blog’s Facebook page too (hint hint, go like it). Again, asking, what does SHE need to see today? How can I reach HER? How can I encourage HER?

It’s all good stuff. It energizes me.

But last night I laid in bed and remembered that sometimes, it’s not about her. Yes, she is me (as I am my target reader). But, sometimes I just have to write.

So, if I could write for me right now, there’s a lot I could say.

We’ve altered our family’s schedule to be more and more structured. Routine.

I used to get so angry when people would tell me that I just needed more structure in my day. Like REALLY angry. Partially because, at the time, I had a child at home and we didn’t do the same thing every day, so creating a structure around random playdates, outings, and trips to the gym and the store was really really hard.

But now that my son is in school every day, putting a routine around that existing framework is not just easier than it has ever been before, but also sanity saving.

Due to a mixture of the bus schedule, the school schedule, and wanting to save a little bit of both time and money for our family – my husband suggested this radical idea my driving him to work every morning, then him riding the bus home at night.

Don’t get me wrong. This has got to be THE most INCONVENIENT option for me. So, obviously, I was thrilled at the thought of getting up and having both kids ready to leave the house by 7 am and driving in downtown traffic every morning.

But by the third day, I realized that there was a million reasons why this was a great plan for our family.

More time together.

Ezra and Russ get time in the car to tell stories and play games. This calms their anxiety and gives them positive relational momentum and time to decompress from the “getting ready for the day” stress before actually having to face the day. (Also, Russ not having to drive means Russ not starting the day wanting to punch stupid drivers in the face.)

40 minutes in the car for Ezra means that that’s not 40 minutes I have to fill for him at home with Netflix or other activities.

Also, it “just works out” that after dropping Russ off, the time it takes us to drive back to school puts us at school exactly when we need to be there.

And the baby, he just sleeps.

We are also trying a structured after school routine. With a visual schedule and clocks and everything. The last two days Ezra has had a meltdown with it. So, it’s working out great!!! I’m hoping that with a little consistency (ugh – seriously that is my least favorite word, just saying…) we can make it work.

Then, we have our dinner and bedtime routine. Eat, take off your clothes, get in the shower, get on pjays, brush teeth, have a gummy (melatonin), book time, bed. 

All. The. Routines.

(also, the way Ezra says the word routine is simply the cutest)

There’s only one downside to all this routine:

That being my anti-routine self turns to complete mush when Ezra is in school. I fiddle around. Check Facebook. Get distracted with bills or projects. Shop on Amazon. Snack all day. Drink too much coffee. Check Facebook again. Sometimes run errands. Oh and nurse the baby 15 times. Yesterday I decided to “do laundry” and folded exactly 4 shirts, one pair of pants, and 5 pairs of boxers. Every single day the six hours goes by in a blink and I look around and wonder what in the world I did with the time. I’m unfocused (even with the lists I surround myself with) and feel like a bit fat failure when I look at all of the adulting I didn’t do.

Mount Adultmore is daunting. There are bills to pay, medical paperwork to file, FAFSA stuff to figure out (because, oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I want to go back to school which is a whole other post to be written and it’s really scary and I’m just gonna put this here and hope you will forget you ever saw it), visual schedules to make, laundry to do, a very gross kitchen floor to be cleaned, Christmas presents to buy and wrap, emergency forms to update, plants to water, and somewhere in there I’m supposed to “take care of myself.”

But in spite of the mushy brain and the adulting-that-isn’t-happening, life is pretty darn good.

I’m more content and settled than I have been in pretty much the last ten years.

Ten years ago my world fell apart as that dumb guy broke my heart and I had to leave Bible college because I was apparently a disobedient rebel and I couldn’t figure out how God would ever work it all out for good.

I got through that in time to have a miscarriage and ship my new husband off to war for a year. Once that was over there was a cross-country move, a difficult pregnancy, a traumatic-ish birth and it’s accompanying postpartum depression, and another year-long deployment. Then there was the reintegration struggles, my husband’s anxiety disorder coming to light, another cross-country move and a really really rough transition out of the army which included a 50% paycut and losing healthcare.

And then there was Ezra’s diagnoses and the last two years of intense and difficult parenting struggles.

I had pretty much had it with being knocked down by the waves of life before I had even had a chance to catch my breath for a freakin minute.

But then this year has been one of new beginnings. A precious new sweet little adorable amazing wonderful (AWESOME SLEEPING) baby. A great pregnancy and healing birth and faith that is maybe-kinda-sorta getting back to something that looks and feels real.

Russ has been on anxiety and sleep meds for a year now and Ezra just started an AMAZING ADHD med two weeks ago (that’s a whole other post too) and we have established rapport with our occupational therapists and play therapist and marital counsellor and personal counselor.

And our day-in-day-out is still a struggle but now all of the supports are in place and it’s just a matter of accessing all of the help and making it work for us.

So maybe I can’t adult, but at least I can breathe.

And then there’s church and I could write a whole post about that too. How people care and have gone out of their way to make us (and more importantly our son) feel at home. But how I’m really freakin scared too. And I want to talk to people and I want them to know me but then when I talk to them I kick myself later because I am afraid I’ve said too much or the wrong thing. Or then they tell me they read my blog and that’s even more terrifying because now they know everything… 

So this is what it would look like if I wrote a post for me. There’s a million other things I could say. But for now, I think I’ll just leave this here.

The SEO on this post sucks and I’m posting without proofreading, but I have a baby to feed before I grab coffee with a friend and then come back to try to adult before we rush off to OT.

And just because, here’s a picture: