Gut feeling

Do you ever get "gut feelings"?

Do you usually listen to it?

Lately I have come to realize I get a LOT of gut feelings. I have also come to know that by the time I realize it, it's too late.

Or rather, by the time I ADMIT I needed to listen to my gut feeling, it's too late.

Most of the stuff is simple stuff, but it ends up getting complicated by the fact that I ignored the gut feeling. For example, I had a gut feeling not to go to the store at noon, because it was too close to Aaron's nap time and he might have a big tantrum in the store because he's tired.

I ignored the feeling. The knowledge.

Went to the store anyway.....and paid the consequences.

I didn't listen to my gut feeling.

Today I had a STRONG gut feeling.

There was a homeschooling meeting I wanted to attend. The kids wanted to go bike riding at Frame Park. I couldn't do both.

Usually I do not ask Nathan to take the kids in such rides, mostly because I know he has had a very long, physically demanding day, and I know he just wants to kick his heels up and give his tired feet a break.

But today I wanted to please the kids.......and myself, by going to that meeting.

I asked Nathan if he could walk the trail at Frame park so the kids could ride their bikes; meanwhile I would be at the meeting, right there at Waukesha State Bank, and we would meet an hour later by the fountain an maybe go for ice cream.

Easy enough. Sweet.

Except for the nagging feeling in my gut.

The typical back and forth between me and my other self -otherwise known as gut feeling- went on for awhile, but I kept quieting it telling myself I needed to relinquish so much control over the kids; I still felt I needed to go for a walk with them; but I told myself going to the meeting was more important; I still was concerned with Nathan having all the kids by himself, in their bikes, at the park, without a cell phone.....oh c'mon lady....you're driving yourself crazy for no reason.......but I still kept feeling that it would be better if we all went to the meeting and then go for the walk.......but I told myself to shut up and go to the meeting and let everything else go....besides, sitting in a room with a bunch of homeschoolers without having to worry about the kids would be a very nice break for me................but I was still worrying.

Even as they walked away, I watched and prayed that everything would be ok.

I sat down at the meeting, trying to look all non-challant and comfortable; the lady next to me introduced herself; I introduced myself and we started to ask each other about our kids and our experience with homeschooling. Not a minute into the conversation my phone rang. I did not recognized the number so I ignored it.....and silenced it.

My guy feeling started screaming at me.

I started screaming back at it..................would you PLEASE shut up and leave me alone!!!!!!

Ten minutes later I cave in and checked my phone. Another missed called from the same number. No message.

"If it was Nathan, and if that was an emergency, he would have left a message....I'm sure of that" I told myself. "Now concentrate and pay attention to these nice homeschooling ladies...."

Ten minutes later I heard the sound of a door opening and closing....and in walks Aaron, followed closely by Danny.....followed by a pale Nathan and a bloody and beat up little Nate!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My heart sunk.........what happened?!?!?!?!?

I stood up, picked up my stuff and went to my family. Little Nate had a nasty fall from his bike minutes after they got to the park; he had a huge bloody bump in his forehead, a scratched up nose and upper lip.......and he lost one tooth on the spot, had one barely hanging by a thread and another one in pretty bad shape.

And my sweetest hubby had to deal with all of that all alone. The phone call I got was from a lady that offer him the use of her cell phone to call someone.....and I didn't answer it. He had to deal with minutes of incessant nose bleeding, gums bleeding, a screaming boy, three bikes all over the place, and two extra kids wondering around......and a long walk back to the car carrying a hurting boy in one arm, pushing the bike with his other arm, and coaching two boys riding their bikes across a busy street and a very busy parking lot.......all while my gut feeling was beating me up.

When would I learn not to question my instincts? When would I learn that the little loud voice that I hear sometimes really knows what it's talking about? When would I finally surrender?

I don't know, but today's lesson is a big step closer.

I don't think that such accident wouldn't happened if I was there, but I have no doubt that what my gut feeling was trying to tell me is that my family needed me; I needed to be there, next to my husband, because a team effort was needed to handle the situation.

But I wouldn't listen.

Perhaps next time, when it is really imperative that I listen, instead of a gut feeling I should get a b**ch-slap............I bet you that would really get my attention!!!

This are the pics of the incident....and the fun the boys where having with it. They are nasty if you ask me.......but I wanted to share nonetheless.

My sweet boy.......my sweet brave little boy.

At wit's end.

This is my littlest one.

In this particular picture, he's one day old.

Oh, the memories! I was so blissfully in love with him.

To be able to love someone you just met with such intensity is one of life's greatest mysteries to me. Love at first sight at its best.

Days passed and all I could do was look at him, drooling over his every move. Cooing and goo goo gaa gaaing him, anxiously waiting for a little smile, a little sign that he could hear me and show me he was also in love with me, the whole me, not just my breasts.

I felt so complete. So blissful. It must have been all the oxcitocin released during breastfeeding.

And then, within a few weeks, I saw this:

That was pretty unusual, I thought. The kid was looking straight at me, with a certain expression on his eyes, as if he was telling me "enough with the pictures already woman! you're interrupting my sleeping pattern".

So I stopped.

I dismissed my gut feeling that something was peculiar with this kid of mine; I dismissed the notion that he was different that the other two; I thought "for goodness sake, he's just a baby, he eats, poops and sleeps; how can anyone know this early there's a difference?".

And so I just kept on keeping on, doing the everyday things a mother has to do.

Suddenly I found him doing this at eight months:

Climbing up a mattress, all the way to the top, and then roll down, laughing all the way, squirming around with his little brothers. I suddenly realized he was crawling, walking and being very adventurous and fearless, keeping up with his brothers every step of the way.

He was only eight months old!!!

I felt that gut feeling again. I was up against something different in my short mothering career; this kid was definitely different; he was more forceful, more demanding, more outgoing, more fearless, more challenging.

And more beautiful every day.

And my heart went pit-pat pit-pat every time I saw him doing something new.

And my heart melted every time he showed me his silly faces.

Or when he rested peacefully in the couch, watching Poo bear, right after his shower, all snuggled up and cozy.

Or when he was so valiant, following after his brothers, attempting a bunch of things that made my blood pressure sky rocket and leave fingernail marks in my camera, anxiously waiting for the hurt that might come from attempting to climb up a tree at 18 months.

Indeed he's different.

I haven't figure our just the fullness of what I'm dealing with here.

All I know is that along with this difference, came a challenge: I cannot raise him the same way I have so far raised the other two. The methods I used with the other two do not work with him. Nothing I have successfully done with the other two works with this one.

Nothing.

I found myself feeling depleted by the end of the day (heck, sometimes I am depleted, deflated and defeated by mid-morning!!!).

I feel frustrated. I feel like giving up. I'm at the end of the rope. At wit's end.

I. JUST. DON'T. KNOW. WHAT. TO. DO.

Plan and simple as that.

I guess I could tell you all about the temper tantrums, about his kicks and punches, about his screams, about his defiance, about his challenges to me, about his yelling (oh Lord! the yelling!), but just thinking about it makes me feel tired, let alone bringing myself to write about it.

I'm at a total loss for ideas, or even strength.

Then, as I was watching The Lord of the Rings last night, one scene caught my attention, one phrase shook me out of complacency:

"This task was appointed to you; and if you do not find a way, no one will"

Those words were spoken directly to me last night. Regardless of the scene in the movie, or the plot going on, those words, at that specific time, were for me.

I get shivers just thinking about it.

This is my task. This is my mission. These children a MY gift from God. If I fail at this mothering mission, no amount of success in any other area of my life could ever make up for it. Success in anything else would still be a failure.

So I need to buck up and face it. This is my mission. There is no quitting.

Now, where's that link to the lady trying to raise godly tomatoes? Or that website about get-off-your-butt parenting? Oh, and what about the 'parenting isn't for cowards' book?

Much work ahead.

Gotta get to it.

Encourage one another.

Nilda.

Wherever you are....be there.

     It was a nice class; the teacher was motivating, the class was interesting, the surroundings comfortable; but somehow, despite my best efforts to pay attention, to concentrate, to absorb as much as I could, my mind wasn't there. I kept realizing every few minutes that I had no idea what this guy had said, as I had been too busy planning ahead for the things I had to do next, making mental lists of the things I needed, remembering what someone has said to me and how I finally got the perfect answer, the one the would have given me the upper hand.

     And suddenly, as if arranged by magic, my mind cleared for a brief second so I could hear these words: wherever you are...be there.

     What? What do you mean "be there"? Aren't I here? I showed up, didn't I? I'm sitting here, looking at you, I make sure I have a smile on my face, I look at you directly, I nod once in awhile in agreement; what do you mean "be there"? I am here!

     But was I? Could I honestly say that I heard every word and truly understood the topic? Could I honestly say that I was there and I didn't miss a thing? That would be a big, fat NO.

     Yet this was an all too familiar territory for me; after all, when was the last time I was fully and completely and entirely in on place? I pride myself with being a multitasker, I can accomplish more when doing a few things at the same time, even if such things involve holding a crying child that needs comforting while boiling some water for the noodles and stirring the tomato sauce. I mean, that's not only dangerous...it's VERY dangerous. And add to that the fact that while my hands and arms are busy, my head is even busier, clouded with thoughts of self pity, and whining and complaining.

     So to put it simply, I'm not only always multitasking, I'm always over thinking. Always.

     No wonder peace and contentment are a rare commodity for me these days.

     So that little phrase really did start something inside me. How much have I really missed in life just because I was too busy planning life? How many little smiles from the tykes have I missed, or disregarded as unimportant, because I was too busy formulating a plan B,  just in case plan A didn't pan out?

     Being brutally honest with myself, I realized that most of the time I'm in a hurry, too busy to really be present with my kids, to really care for their requests, to really pay attention to their stories, to really hug them, and really kiss them.

     Every emptynester I know keeps telling me that these years go by so quickly; they all say time flies and before you know they're graduating; they all encourage me (sometimes it feels like they're begging me) to enjoy these years, to treasure them, to soak them up, to take tons of pictures and video, to ingrain the cute and cuddly moments  in my memory, because they won't last. They say soon they will want to pull away from me, be more independent; they say they might want to be with their friends and discover life on their own. They say soon, especially having boys, my hugs and kisses will join the list of gross-things-to-avoid-at-all-cost and they will not want to be hugged and kissed and smothered.

     And the thought of that really is terrifying, despite the fact that everyday I wish it was next day already; sometimes, when going thru the thickest part of mothering, meaning cleaning yet another messy diaper, wiping yet another buggery nose, cleaning yet another saggy bowl of cereal that stayed too long on the table -or long enough for Aaron to find it and dump it all over the floor- the thought of them being grown up and independent is like soft music to me ears.

     But not at that price. 

     So at least for today, I will do my best to really be here; to summon my mind, emotions and feelings back from la la land and really invest myself here at home; who knows? maybe that game of chutes and ladders Nathan has been wanting to play with me is not that bad after all.

     You know that still, small voice people keep talking about?

     Today it is telling me to bring my heart home......tomorrow can always wait.

"You are too concerned 

with what was

and what will be.

There's a saying:

Yesterday is history,

Tomorroy is a mistery,

but today is a gift.

That's why is called

'the present' ".

Master Oogway

Kung Fu Panda

"Life is what happens to you

when you are busy making other plans".

Lennon

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow,

for tomorrow will worry about itself. 

Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Jesus