Not {Quite} Ready...Yet

Early Tuesday morning the big yellow bus stopped at the end of our lane where four excited boys climbed up the stairs and were whisked off to begin another school year.

The night before backpacks hung ready with labelled indoor shoes and pencil cases.  Lunches were packed with the ease of repetition.  The excitement of returning to friends and loved teachers hung heavy mixed with the trepidation of change and new and different.  But even as school routine fell into place as easily as slipping on a favorite cozy sweater, I don't feel ready.

A couple of days into the week still finds me not quite ready for summer to be over and the busyness of school to begin once more.  I'm not ready to say good-bye to four of my boys for so many hours each day.  I'm not ready to give up the slower routine of summertime that is forgiving of stolen moments of play or exploration that drift into stolen hours.

Life this summer looked a little differently for us as we are now baby-free and more easily mobile.  Being able to go out the door in a relatively short time opens up so many more opportunities of doing and going.  I want to hold these moments a little longer and cherish the days while they are still my little boys playing, climbing, jumping and imagining.  I know in a time that is no longer far enough away they will not all be littles anymore.  I still love having littles.  I'm also thoroughly enjoying all the flexibility that boys, not babies and toddlers, provide.

Even as I savoured the lazier days of summer, I used the slower pace to begin implementing new routines to help shift our home form a house of littles and chaos and piles to a home with some semblance of order.  Sometimes we had a few slower days in a row when we could do a really workable routine that included chores, meal planning, and a smooth bedtime.  It gave me a little taste of what our back-to-school routine would look like.  It felt good.  It felt doable.  It felt calm.




But really, for the majority of summer the days of going left routine behind.  And often, those days were even better.  

Mother Nature was so accommodating in providing hot summer days right up to the very last day of summer vacation.  And in true McLaughlin fashion, we kept the days full and busy with a little relaxing time sprinkled in - picnics, visiting with friends, sleepovers with grandparents, playing in the pool, browsing at the market, swimming at the falls, crafting, Lego, WII, the garden and preparing for the local Fair.






 And of course, the beach!

It's all good.  It's all been good.  I'm just not quite ready to let it all go,  Not yet.  Even as we slipped so easily into the routine of preparing for school once again after a lovely two month break, I am going to hold tight to my resistance in giving up summer for just a little longer.  There are still hours after school when we can pretend school routine hasn't caught up with us just yet.

Burdened With Inadequacy

There is a little piece of truth I hide from myself.  I keep it covered over just beyond the edge of my mind.  Once in awhile, when I'm not careful, it pops up and forces me to see it.  It's only there for a fleeting moment before I avert my gaze and cover it once again so I don't have to face it.

To be candid, if I face this truth full on, if I take it out and examine it, then I will not only have to do something about it, I will have to admit that I have failed.  And one of my biggest fears is failure.

This little piece of truth is not really all that little.  And I'm pretty sure that more than likely what I try to hide from myself is not at all hidden from anyone that knows me.  It's definitely not hidden from God.

But yet, I continue to deceive myself that as long as I don't look at this truth full on, it is not so.

The truth?  I cope.  

That's it.  I cope.  I spend each day getting things done that can no longer be left undone.  I feed people because they require sustenance to live.  I get children up and out the door because they have some place they have to be.  I attend appointments to keep us healthy or looking civilized.  I work because it is income.  I volunteer because it is the one last thread I am trying to hold on to that connects me to a world outside of my home.

Somehow, most things get done.  But they aren't usually done until they have to be done.  And then, they usually aren't done as well as I would want them to be done.   

And that is where I feel I fail.  Because I would like to do this thing called motherhood well.  I would like to do this project of homemaking well.  But I don't.  I dream, I plan, I attempt.  I fail.

I would like to have myself and my family and my home organized with a working routine established.  But I don't.  I would like to have all our meals planned ahead so I'm not scrambling by 5 pm.  But I don't.  I would like to have a cleaning schedule I follow faithfully so I am not up late the night before someone is coming over clearing piles and vacuuming.  But I don't. 

As I struggle with this seemingly endless burden of wallowing in unaccomplished failure, I have begun to ask myself a few questions.  Questions like, where did I get the idea of what our home and life should look like?  Who am I trying to be like?  Do the things I feel I should be doing better truly need changing?  Where does this burden of inadequacy and failure stem from?

I have no answers yet, maybe I never will for some of my questions, but I have started on a journey of trying to uncover who I am vs who I think I should be.  I have a feeling it's not going to be an easy journey.

And I really don't think I am alone.  I think feelings of inadequacy and failure is something that a lot of women struggle with.  Maybe if we stopped comparing ourselves to one another and supported each other instead we might just reshape our worlds.

Possibilities

It was a loooong time coming for James and Morgan.  We decided the multipurpose room downstairs would be renovated into a bedroom for the two of them to share.  However, the logistics behind that undertaking were extensive - at least for our limited space and the time we could designate to remodeling the room.

When Dylan was about four months old, the time had come for him to move out of our room.  The memories are a bit hazy, but I'm pretty sure I was still up with him when Luke's alarm was going off at 5:15 am.  I don't think I had even stretched out in bed that night; I was surprised Luke got any sleep at all between Dylan's fussing and my movements.  The next night I declared Dylan was sleeping in his own room!  It was an evening of bed-shifting: Dylan into the crib in Nicholas and Evan's room; Nicholas and Evan down the hall into James and Morgan's big boy bunk beds; James and Morgan into their new bunk beds set up temporarily in the living-room downstairs.

Although we functioned with the transitional setup, James and Morgan needed their own space.  They needed a room with empty shelves and floorspace, not just a makeshift area shared with furniture shoved over and instruments piled in the corners.  Their long temporary stay was in a room already full that quickly overflowed. Keepsakes and toys were without empty shelves to be put on. Clothes were without enough drawers or a closet to be put in.  And Lego was everywhere!

Luke planned and created.  I piled, shifted and finally sorted and cleared out.  And then one day, the room was finished.  The carpet was laid.  The walls were painted.  The waiting was over.

This is the beautiful end result.

A new space full of possibilities.  A room where they can carve their own story.  A room that inspires the possibilities of what decluttering and renewing a piled up area can deliver.