You Can't Organize Clutter

So says FLYlady and she's right, you can't. I have gotten rid of a TON of stuff since James and I got married, but still, we have WAAAY too much. As part of my packing journey, and also part of my organizing my life out of chaos journey I need to get rid of a lot of it again.

So far I have five boxes packed and I have sent four boxes full of stuff out to be donated. That's a good start. I need to keep posting and keeping myself accountable. Tonight I'm hoping to get another four full!

Wordless Wednesday November 16th

Subtitled: How Can They Actually Sleep Like That?

1 month/2 months

My Love and I at BGH, October, 2011

Tomorrow will mark two months since James had his stroke. Two months. That's unbelievable to me.

What is even more unbelievable to me is that it is exactly a month from today that he is scheduled to come home. Three months less a day away from his family. Three months less a day that we've been without our husband and father under the same roof every night.

I thought by now I would be adjusted. Adjusted to what, I don't know. But I thought that I would have a handle on what was going on, a routine if you will.

As it turns out, two months later, new things are still being thrown at me constantly. Our lives are still in chaos. He is still not home, we are still not moved (nor do we even know yet or when the move will actually be), I am still struggling with pain and fatigue of my own, the littlest one is still struggling with his breathing, and we are all still living a life that is very unsettled.

That's not to say that we are actively in crisis anymore. Not like we were that night. And certainly we have many people that have stepped up to help us in their various ways, for which we are now and will always be grateful.

My prayer for the next month is that I will get myself more together, that we will all find more healing, and that I will be given strength to not only do what I have to do, but to find the joy and gratitude in it. I'm certainly not perfect, but I love my husband and sons very much and I hope for all of us that the next month brings us further along in our journey towards some sort of new normal.

Weather Woes

I am the queen of misjudging the temperature with my kids. Add to that the fact that my kids hate wearing coats and you often end up with me being that Mom... the one who gets all of the rolled eyes and nasty looks on the playground because her kids are the only ones running around in long sleeved tshirts and jeans while all the other kids have parkas and touques on.

I decided tonight that I wasn't going to be that Mom. It had been quite chilly when the boys were outside playing yesterday and so when they asked to go outside tonight after supper (after having been inside all day because Mama was sick and Daddy can't get outside without help right now) I said yes. But I also said they would have to wear their winter coats.

It was a struggle to get everyone dressed suitably, but we managed. And since it was their first time wearing their brand new winter coats I also snapped a picture of them before we went out.

Adorable Boys Ready for Winter 2011/2012

So we got outside for them to run off some energy and that was when my plan failed on two accounts. First, the intended running around looked more like this:

Oldest Child Laying in Front of the Slide, Middle Child Laying on the Hippo

Secondly, the temperature once we got outside, was a balmy 15 degrees Celsius. They would have been fine in their sweaters. Tobias remarked that next time I said he had to wear his coat he was not going to because it wasn't that cold out anyway. Oh boy... Maybe I need to start actually checking my weather channel app before we actually venture outside anymore.

Hopefully I can get it right for him tomorrow morning. It's a school day. His first one in five days and that means it's already going to be a struggle. I don't need to add wrong about the weather to make it worse.

Six Week Countdown

My Little Malachi Elf, Christmas 2010

Six weeks. That's all the time left until Christmas Day. I was talking on the phone with my sisterbestfriend yesterday and we were both a little panicked at the reality of how close it is getting. It's even less time until the season of Advent, which is one of my favourite times at church. A time of preparation. For many things.

There is much to be done. Plans need to be made for what celebrations we will be at when. We need to prepare the gifts we are giving. There will be extra time at church, extra time with family and with friends, and on December 15th, James comes home from the hospital for good so in the midst of this Christmas season we will be readjusting to being a full time at home family of five.

Lots to do. Lots of preparations to make. I better get going on my list.

Half An Ounce

That's how much milk I managed to pump last night. Malachi's immune system and lungs are very unhappy and I am trying to give him the immunity benefits of breastmilk to help him. He won't latch, and so pumping (or actually hand expressing as pumps and I don't tend to get along) it is.

The problem being that my body stops responding to expressing milk after about a year. I am hoping that it will get the hint and increase production. It did in 2008 when I was pumping more. Hopefully it will again.

No matter what any Mama milk is better than none and my little dude needs all the help he can get to stay out of the hospital this autumn and winter.

Why Are You Sad Mama?

That was the question my two year old asked me when he came upon me today, tears slipping down my cheeks, lost in my own world.

"I'm remembering baby", I answered him.

"Remembering what?" Those big blue eyes looked up at me and he reached out and placed his hand on my own.

Remembering what? This was a harder question for me to answer completely. At two his heart is big and open and wants to take away everyone else's hurt. I didn't want to burden him with the depth of what I was feeling.

I told him I was remembering Poppa, which was not a lie, although it wasn't really the whole truth either. My four year old piped up with his own memories of Poppa John (his great grandfather).

Poppa John was a veteran of World War II and although he survived the war and came home and went on to be father to eight children, we lost him earlier this year, at the end of June. He was not a perfect man, but he was perfectly what I needed him to be as my grandfather. Fitting then, on this day, for me to be remembering him, along with the other men and women who have served and are serving this country proudly so that me and my children can have our freedom.

This day, in some ways, marked the end of my own freedom several years ago. That pain, those memories, were in fact also bubbling over into my tears when my son found me. I couldn't really explain that to him though, indeed I can't really put into words the depth of my feelings at all. That will be a post for another day. Tomorrow perhaps, or perhaps not.

Right now I will focus my thoughts on gratitude for those men and women, for the ones who came home and the ones who did not, for the ones who fought before and the ones fighting today. For my Poppa. For all the others who were and are spouses, children, parents... loved.

Thank you. I will never forget. May none of us ever ever forget.