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I’m not sure where the line is between realization and epiphany. I suspect it is that epiphanies change one’s life while realizations change only the day, week, or month. If this is so, then today I had a realization. I ended yesterday tied in emotional worry-knots over the various challenges of my various children. On one level I knew that it is all going to be okay, but my brain would not stop fretting. A large part of the fret is that I knew I needed to have at least five different conversations with five different adults about the needs of my kids. All of these conversations need to take place either today or tomorrow. My brain was creating sample dialogs until the wee hours of the morning while simultaneously fretting that being over-tired would not help any of the conversations. Even this afternoon with two of the conversations begun (but not complete. grr.) I am still fretful. So I abandoned my self to the fret for a few minutes. For lack of a child to snuggle, I grabbed Patch’s giant stuffed dog and curled up for a think. This is when the realization hit. I am stressed because I am team building. These conversations are to determine whether these other adults will be allies, obstacles, or enemies to the needs of my children. I am embarking on a new school year and I don’t yet have my team in place. I don’t know how much burden is going to fall on me and how much I can rely on the teachers and/or administrators. This shift in perspective removes some of the stress. So far I’ve identified one potential ally and one potential obstacle. I’ve also identified an additional person with whom I need to converse. So I have four more conversations to go. Building alliances is exhausting.

Parenting challenges come in clumps. I’m not sure they actually arrive in clumps, but they definitely clump up while waiting for me to pay attention to them.

Link brought home a packet from his resource teacher. The packet tells me that it is time to run a bunch of new tests to see if Link still qualifies for special help. The thing is that Link does not want to be in resource any more. He hates to be pulled out of class because his 6th grade teacher is awesome. So now I have to decide whether to run the tests, or if it is time to let Link try flying solo. I’m inclined to let him give it a try, particularly if we make doing extra practice at home one of the conditions for being done with resource. The risk with this route is that my follow through with extra practice has been lacking in years past. I always have good intentions for helping him, but my plans frequently evaporate. On a related note, Link’s medicine is affecting him slightly differently this year. Or perhaps it isn’t, but he is noticing the effects more. I’m not certain there is a problem, but I’m paying attention to it.

Gleek spent 30 minutes curled up in my lap crying because she does not feel special. In her class there are several special needs kids. She sees the accommodations that are being made for them and wishes that her teacher would pay that much attention to her. It is hard to figure out how to comfort a beautiful, intelligent, strong, healthy girl who is crying because she is not blind, does not have a glass eye, is not deaf, and hasn’t even got any broken bones. My assurances that I would discuss things with her teacher were insufficient. She only cheered up a little when I promised to take her to the dentist to have her crooked teeth looked at. She is now hoping earnestly that she will get some type of retainer or mouth appliance since that will make her at least a little bit special. Her odds are fairly good. Some of her teeth are significantly crooked. I will then be faced with the challenge of paying for said appliance. (Which is why I had not pursued treatment sooner.)

Patch complains that first grade is long and has started crawling into bed with us nightly. At least we’ve solved the “chocolate milk at lunch giving him a rash” problem. I’ve started sending drinks in his back pack.

Kiki has discovered that she ended up with several teachers she does not care for. She is also discovering how uncomfortable it can be to be an attractive girl in a mostly-male wood shop class. She wants out of the class, but the deadline for class changes has already come and gone. I am making her write up a list of her concerns. I’ll go with her to present the list to the guidance counselor. It probably won’t get her schedule changed, but the counselor may have some suggestions to address the concerns. Even if the counselor dismisses the concerns, having the list will help Kiki and I form management plans. As for the rest of her schedule, I’m hoping that further experience with the teachers will help her understand better how to get along with them or get around them. The one thing she can’t do is slack off. We’ve entered the “colleges will look at this transcript” zone.

As per the title of this post, my brain is now tired. I think my heart is too.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

I knew that the resumption of school would open up spaces in my schedule. I expected those spaces would be filled up by a drive to write. Using all free time for writing is considered normal and admirable in the online writer’s communities where I spend so much time. Finally I would have time to participate, to pound through chapters, to post word counts, to set stretch goals. But the kids started school and my writing brain did not unfold the way that I expected it to. I found myself hard pressed to even write blog entries.

I try to live my life by inspiration, so I took my puzzlement with me to the temple. This is the place in the world where I find communication clearest. I always find peace there and I often come away with answers I did not expect, but once recognized I know them to be true. Today I was told that I need to not fill up the spaces with writing. The spaces need to stay spaces. I need to be flexible enough to connect with friends and neighbors spontaneously. I need to have time to get bored and clean the house. I need time to go for a walk, or work in the garden, or visit a museum. These are all good things, and yet part of me feels lazy for leaving the space. I should be working harder, running faster. I want to run quickly so that I can arrive, so that my writing can help pay our bills, so that I can have recognition. But today’s message echoes what I have been feeling for weeks, that I need to find happiness today rather than looking for it in the future. I don’t have to run toward my goals at a pace that wears me out. I can walk at a pleasant, sustainable pace and I will still arrive. In fact I will arrive happier and more whole for not running myself ragged.

As I pondered the implications, I wondered if this “no need to hurry” message implied that my writing does not matter, that it is not important. I spent a few moments prepared to be upset about that, but the truth is that the things I write are not going to change the world on any large scale. They matter to me and they matter to some of the people who read them. That is all I can hope for really. Setting myself stringent daily word goals will not increase the likelihood that my words will make a difference. More important, stringent writing goals are wrong for me right now. There may come a time for them, but this is not that time. Our family needs a respite from having both parents driven by deadlines. Therein lies another source of guilt. Howard has to continue to push himself to get all the work done. I want to push with him, to work hard at something that will potentially lift some of the burden from his shoulders. But that is not my task. My task is to make everything else run smoothly so that his progress is unimpeded. It is hard to believe that my slow schedule is the best way I can help, but I think it is true. It is really hard to not push with him.

This is not my time to push. This is not my time to relax. This is my time to walk calmly and surely forward, to see the world around me, and to meet the needs as the arrive. Each day is a gift and I must consider the best use for it.

At 10:45 this morning Patch did not come home. Instead he stayed at school with all the bigger kids. I knew this, but I still found myself listening for him to come through the front door. And I missed him even while I was glad to not have kids under foot for the work that needed done. Picking up three kids from school simultaneously is chaotic and seems likely to remain so. They all burst into the car with heads full of things to tell me. Three young voices raise to ever higher volumes as they try to talk over each other. I try to institute some order by declaring whose turn it is to talk, but even then they all interrupt one another. It is chaotic, but I can greet it with joy because I’ve had a long quiet day of respite. I have the energy to shepherd them into the house, find them snacks, mediate the conflicts, and require chores. Even better, I enter the evening hours ready to face the challenge of dinner because I have already gotten enough work done. Finally I have time compartments large enough to contain the tasks which must go into them. There will be busy times ahead when the work slops over into the family space, but at the moment things are good.

Last week brought Howard home from GenCon, finished off a few last summer outings, launched the kids into a new school year, brought back the remainder of books from GenCon, and stowed all the convention items into the storage units. Tomorrow I will launch into my attempt to organize a working schedule that functions around 6 hours of child-free time. Today I am betwixt and between.

I am the family prognosticator. It is my job in the morning to predict whether the kids should be wearing long or short pants. It is my job to look at a child’s crooked teeth and predict whether they need immediate attention or whether natural growth will solve the problem. It is my job to plan ahead and schedule events so that they do not conflict with each other. As part of that last, I must also plan ahead and leave space for events which are not yet scheduled, but are likely to be scheduled for me on short notice.

All of this has been very much on my mind because now is when I am setting up our business/family schedule for the 2010 year. The task has created quite a lot of internal tension for me because it seems like every day an exciting new possibility comes up. Then I have to analyze all over again what we can afford and what we have time to actually do. I have a strong motivation to not over schedule us for next year, because this year was insane. We have to have space between the big events. There has to be time set aside when life can be routine for weeks at a stretch. Every new idea threatens those unscheduled spaces. Howard’s usual answer is “I can do it. I’ll just work harder.” Part of me agrees. We could just work harder and snag up all these opportunities. But no one can run forever without breaking. In this case I am the weaker link. I can not work as hard, or as fast, or as long as he can. And so my limitations place limits on the business. This is not all bad. Not even Howard can run at top speed forever without breaking. I would like him not to break.

This afternoon I sat down with the calendar for next year. I once again looked at the major events and was able to picture how everything would fit. I could see the spaces that I have blocked out for routine. I’m back to feeling like 2010 might be a little less busy than this year. Maybe. I hope. I also spent time planning for our family vacation. That last piece helped everything else snap into perspective a little. The business things are going to take over all the family spaces because I have put a stake in the ground labeled “Family Vacation.” The vacation is not allowed to move. And I don’t think there will be a single businessy thing about it. Just Howard and I and the kids in a hotel near cool things to go see.

So I am feeling better. At least until the next cool thing is presented and I will be called upon to use my predictive powers to decide whether it can be done. My current prediction is that the next shiny option will present itself within the next two weeks.

I keep wanting to write a coherent entry with a theme, one I can wrap into a nice package where the end hearkens back to the beginning. I’ve started twice and deleted. Instead I’m got to throw random thoughts into their own paragraphs and see what I come up with. This is like throwing spaghetti against the wall to see if it sticks.

Today’s first post-school hour was filled with trauma. This was not because of any large or important events. It was because of severe crankiness on the part of three children. The second day of school is like that. We still have biorythmic adjustments to do. Also Link stayed up late last night because he needed to talk over body image, growing up, and friendships. It took quite a lot of listening and discussing to soothe him enough to sleep. He is so afraid of growing up. What I fail to mention to him is that his concern is an indicator that growing up has already begun. Patch’s cranky was made worse by the skin reaction he has from drinking chocolate milk at school yesterday. I told him he could try the milk to see if it caused a problem. It did. I’ll be sending juice boxes to school with him so that he can drink those instead.

Last year when school started it felt like I was catching my balance after stumbling around all summer long. It has not felt that way so far this year. Perhaps I need to give things a few more days to settle, but I’m not sure it will be that simple. Not having kids home during the day is a major shift in my life rhythm. I’m glad for it. I’m going to do good things with it, but I think settling in will take me a week or two. It is rather like moving into a large new house with all the stuff I crammed into a much smaller one. I know you’ll like it better, but at the moment I’m still not sure where everything goes.

In the past two days I have been asked for a medical opinion (on minor issues) twice. It is fascinating to me that people would turn to me for this sort of thing. It is even more boggling that I actually had a helpful answer both times. In both cases I’d had practical experience with similar things. In one of the cases my opinion was “You should see a doctor about that.” I have some basic knowledge, but I know when to call in the experts.

This past week has been a listening week for me. I’ve listened to Howard as he unpacks the convention experiences he had. I’ve listened to Link’s concerns. I’ve listened to Kiki talk about her friends and hopes for the coming year. I’ve listened to Gleek’s sadness at feeling left out of things. I’ve listened to Patch’s bedtime fears. I’ve listened while a friend worked through a major shift in her life. I’ve listened while a different friend sorted thoughts on a long standing issue. All of this listening requires more than just ears. I have to pay attention and seek inside to find what words will be best to answer with. And the words come. The right stories surface in my brain. I am so grateful for the inspiration that comes to me when I have important listening to do. And invariably I walk away from the conversation more whole myself because I spent time on something that mattered.

The pallet of books arrived back from GenCon. We sent about twice as much stuff as was necessary. This means that our profit margin is very slim. We broke even, but didn’t make much more than that. This is useful data for another year. I want nothing more than to not think about GenCon for awhile, but we’re already planning for next year. We are planning many things for next year and there are already more cool possibilities than we have the ability to follow through on. I need to go re-read my post about opportunities.

Aha. I just figured out how to connect the end to the beginning. If my ideas are like spaghetti noodles which I throw against the wall to see if they’re done, then my brain is like the sieve I use to strain the spaghetti. Only the holes are too large and it seems like half the spaghetti went slipping down the drain before I even got to the throwing part.

I have been anticipating this day for months. This is the day when all four of my kids trouped off for a full day of school. This is the day when all the chaos of convention preparation and clean-up is over. This is the day when the major shippings are all complete. This is the day when I know for sure exactly how much money we have to live on for the next six months. It was supposed to be a day of relief. Instead it has been a whole wash of emotions, like some wild abstract with the largest parts painted in depression, fear, and anxiety. Relief doesn’t appear anywhere in the picture. I am not relieved today.

In analyzing where these emotions are coming from, I realized that I was like the hiker who is looking ahead to the top of the hill. I’ve been planning to be on top of the hill, intending to rejoice. I could not see anything past that hill. Now I stand on top and I see how much further I have to walk. I see that there are other hills ahead of me. We’re already talking about major conventions and shipping events for next year. There will be more expenses and stresses. There will be an unending stream of needs to meet. The view makes me tired instead of triumphant.

Identifying the cause has really helped to dispel most of the negative emotions. Howard and I had a great conversation where we discussed all our financial details and laid out plans for how to proceed. We hashed out plans both for family and business. Now I can start walking again and remember that even though there is a lot of stuff ahead of me, this is a really lovely hike. It is time for me to stop staring ahead either in fear or anticipation. It is time for me to walk where I am and relish the gifts that today provides. Not the least of which is two more quiet hours before I get to welcome home all my not-so-little-anymore people. Then I think we will go feed ducks. I am not relieved today, but I’ve found some happiness despite it all.

Crisp backpacks, blinding white shoes
New classrooms
New teachers
strict bedtimes
homework supervision
young minds lit up with new knowledge
expectations, mis communications
fund raisers and classroom events
New principal, new rules
fights with friends, fears, feelings of abandonment
drama over homework
The exultation of difficult tasks completed.
Am I ready for this?

Emails and contracts
distribution and advertising
books to sell
books to create
people to convince
planning for next year
Sales on ebay
offering discounts
paper and boxes and strapping tape.
numbers in the red, numbers in the black
Hours in front of the computer
emails that make me cry for joy.
Am I ready for this?

plotting and planning
submitting and rejection
drafting and revising
pondering and research
reaching out for contacts
feeling alone
the solace of understanding friends
getting out of my house
laptop warmed legs
the joy of finding exactly the right words
Am I ready?

My church relies heavily on volunteers, although “volunteer” may not actually be the completely correct term. People are asked to take on jobs as a service to others. These jobs are usually termed “callings” because people are called into the office and asked to take the assignment. The option to say no is always there, but there is some social pressure to say yes. I have always believed that these assignments are guided by inspiration and that I will be blessed for the service I give. I have lots of evidence for the second part, because I have been blessed in countless ways from the various church assignments I have undertaken. Over the years I have been a youth group leader, a compassionate service leader (casseroles for the sick), a primary teacher (teaching children at church), an enrichment committee member (organizing social/educational evenings for adult women), an activities committee member (organizing activities for the entire congregation), a relief society teacher (Sunday lessons for adult women), and a cub scout leader.

My assignment for the past 18 months has been as a primary teacher. The first half of that time was teaching 10 year olds. The second half has been teaching 5 year olds. The five year old class has been a challenge and a joy. There are several kids in the class who are highly active and creative people. They don’t tolerate boredom well and will thus resort to spitting, loud noises, and wandering around the room in order to not be bored. My job has been to corral those restless minds and bodies, try to bring them back to what the group is doing, or at least to help them not be bored in ways that don’t disrupt everyone else. It is a tiring job. There have been many Sundays when I was not feeling up to the task. I muddled through anyway because I knew that however hectic things got, it would be better for me being there. I really understand these kids. It is like I can see inside their brains and know how to help church be good for them. So I went every week, calm in the knowledge that I was giving a gift to these kids and to their mothers who can really use the break from them.

This week I was asked to take on a different assignment. I was asked to be the Activity Days Leader helping organize bi-weekly activities for girls ages 8 -11. My daughter Gleek is part of that group. (She is thrilled.) The request came as a surprise to me, because I could not imagine anyone wanting to disrupt this particular class. I expected to stay with the class through December. I half expected to be moved up with them in January. I was completely at peace with this despite missing any chance to listen to do any growing myself on Sundays. My (former) class will be taken by my backyard neighbor. This gives me peace of mind because she loves and understands these kids as well as I do or better. I have no qualms at all about handing the class over to her. And yet I’m still feel like I stepped of the bottom step only to discover that there was an additional stair I wasn’t expecting. I had so settled in my mind that it was my place to serve in Primary that the shift to doing something else feels off balance. I should be rejoicing. I’ll get to sit in an adult meeting and learn instead of holding a wriggling child who is likely to pull on my ear rings or blow raspberries in my face. I won’t have to coax children out from under chairs. I won’t come home from church with bruises on my shins because of little kicking legs that couldn’t quite hold still. And yet, I should be sad because I’ll no longer get to observe those amazing little people who seem to think at right angles to everyone else. I said yes to the new assignment. Today I taught my class for the last time. The kids made almost no reaction to the news of their new teacher. This is fine. I want them to have a smooth transition rather than a major trauma. I’ll still see them frequently at church.

This shift just feels a part of all the other things that are shifting in my life right now. I am shifting to a quieter, less stress-driven phase of life. After four months of constant high-gear I’m slowing down. It feels strange to have long stretches of day with nothing urgent to drive me forward. I still have plenty to do, but I don’t have to run fast to avert crisis. “Running fast to avert crisis” is a pretty apt description of that primary class. So I suppose the new assignment will fit right in with the general slowing down of my life. I must be careful not to fill up my schedule with things again. Or rather, I must put back the slow, soul-filling things that were ejected from my schedule during the crazy months.