Do you want to protect your child from unwanted calls and contacts from military recruiters?

The No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 requires that school districts automatically release the name, address and phone number of your child to military recruiters unless parents sign an opt out or student exclusion form which states:

“I, the undersigned, do not want my child’s name released to the armed forces recruiters by the School District of Philadelphia.”

The School District issues this form in late September/ early October. That’s when families of all high school juniors and seniors should be receiving a copy from their high school – usually sent home with students for parent’s signature.

If you would like to prevent the SDP from releasing your child’s personal information to military recruiters, be sure to fill out, sign and return the opt out / student exclusion form promptly to your child’s school.

If you did not receive this form by Oct 5th, call the Office of Accountability 215-400-5820 or 215-400-5829 and request one.

I’m desperately trying to rebuild. Today, I tackled the blogroll - it’s still a long way from being complete. If you used to be there and aren’t anymore or if you think you should be anyway, drop me a note. I’ll see what I can do.

It started off well enough. I got the kiddos to school and headed to the Y where I did a respectable (for me) 5k. I rushed back, made myself presentable and picked up the kids.

The plan was to pick up Katie from school and go get some haircuts. An easy, relaxing yet productive day.

Only Charlie had other plans.

Amy and Charlie were whirring around the house like two crazy mosquitoes - here, there, everywhere. I kept telling them to slow down, not to run inside… but of course, they didn’t listen. And that’s when it happened: when Charlie decided that he belonged where the coffee table now exists. He ran, at top speed, right into the table. The result? Blood everywhere.

At first, I thought he had poked his eye. I was freaking out. Amy kept talking and I finally yelled “Shut up!” at her. I have immense guilt about this but I was at the end of my rope.

I got Charlie cleaned up and decided a doctor’s visit was in order. As it turned out, so was a hospital visit - but not before I picked Katie up at school only to learn from her teacher that she had tripped over someone’s bag on the playground and scraped up her knee, ripped her tights, the whole bit. Katie was, I think, looking for more attention than she got because I was speeding out to take care of Charlie.

We finally landed at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. He needed stitches just under his eye. There was a whole debate about stitches versus glue - stitches one. If your child has never had stitches in the face, let me give you a hint: it’s not pleasant. For the kid or for the parent. They had to strap him into this “papoose” which was basically a long hard plastic board crossed with a straitjacket. He was pretty good but he cried (of course) and looked miserable for a few moments.

I have to say, the folks at CHOP were awesome, as always. So we were in and out in a few hours - the whole ordeal was about five hours, start to finish. Charlie’s face is officially stitched up. He will have a scar.

We got home in the early evening. Our good friends had given the girls some dinner but I brought them a few extra meatballs. I finally cleaned up Katie’s knee with some peroxide and Neosporin and got the girls off to bed. Charlie was not as gung ho about going. He finally fell asleep on top of me - but not for long. I think he was kind of freaked out by the “papoose” thing because at night, he would not let me put any blankets on him despite the chill in the air. So, he was up quite a bit - which meant that I was, too.

I am ridiculously tired today. Amy and Charlie both stayed home from school - Charlie because of the stitches (he is supposed to avoid hitting that area) and Amy because she wanted to stay with her brother… Sweet, I know. But also tiresome.

Am sooo ready for Chris to be home. Business travel stinks.

Me: Eat your breakfast.
Charlie (2): I don’t want it.
Me: Why not? You asked for cereal.
Charlie: I want cereal, not Cheerios.
Me: Cheerios is cereal.
Charlie: No, I don’t want Cheerios. I want cereal.
Me (getting irritated): Charlie, this IS cereal.
Charlie: I don’t want Cheerios, I want Life.
Me: We don’t have Life.
Charlie: I want Life.
Me: Then you’re up a creek because we don’t have Life.
Charlie: I don’t want to be up a creek.
Me: Tough.

-

Amy (4): Mom, can I have more cereal and milk?
Me: Here, eat your brother’s, he doesn’t want his.
Amy: I can’t eat his, he has germs.
Me: He doesn’t have germs. And he didn’t touch his cereal. So eat it.
(She does)
Amy: Now, can I have more cereal and milk? In my own bowl? And not Charlie’s?

*Sigh*

Me: Yes.

–

Charlie (2): I don’t want cereal, I want milk.
Me: Fine. (I go and get the milk)
Charlie: The milk is too cold.
Me: You’re kidding me.
Charlie: Too cold.
Me: Then you’ll just have to wait.

–

Ahh, those kiddos. So much fun in the morning - especially when I have all three on my own…

I just realized that my playlist got lost when my data went south. If I get the energy over the next few days to update it for the blog, I will.

Did you watch the game this weekend? It was terrific!

I’m loving this season… Philadelphia is going to the NLDS for the first time since the 1993 season. That season marked the first time I had seen Phillies baseball, as the new girl in town. We didn’t make it to the World Series that year… I think it’s time!

Normally, I take Chris to the airport for his trips. Not this time. It was far too complicated with pickup from school and rush hour. So, instead, he chose to take a cab.

The cab driver came early - that never happens. But he did. Amy started crying as soon as she realized what was going on. Chris walked out to the cab to tell him that he was early and ask him to wait (he did). He came back inside to wish us all goodbye. It was a sad couple of minutes. Poor Amy’s face was all red and squished. She ran and grabbed his leg when he went to kiss me goodbye.

Eventually, Chris picked up his things and walked out of the day. Amy just cried and cried on the sofa, staring out the window.

“Daddy…” she would say and then sob.

I calmed her down, telling her that dad would be back and that she shouldn’t be sad.

“Aren’t YOU going to miss him?” she asked.

It was all I could do not to break down.

“Yes, Amy,” I said, giving her a hug, “I am.”

I have no words.

That said, the complete meltdown this morning? Totally didn’t see it coming.

Amy had been up and down all morning. Crazy mood swings. But I finally got her calmed down enough to get to school. About a block away, Charlie says, “Look, Airplane! It’s flying!” I answer, “Yep, it’s an airplane, like the one that daddy will be in next week.”

Amy stops. She says, “Daddy is leaving? For Germany?”

And I say, “Yes.”

And she burst into tears. Major waterworks.

“But I don’t want him to go!”

And we chatted for a moment about how it was only for a bit, how he’d be back soon. Some semblance of peacefulness came over her and she stopped sobbing.

I was flabbergasted. Every time that Chris goes on these trips, I struggle with the kiddos. But usually, my tough spot is Katie. Never Amy. But this time, apparently that’s different.

I left her at school, little face all puffy, tiara on crooked. It was utterly heartbreaking.

Katie is back at school after being home for the Jewish high holidays. Being home for the holidays is particularly stressful when you don’t celebrate said holidays… Then, you’re just home. Of course, the weather has been terrible - rainy and stormy - something for which Katie has placed the blame squarely on me.

Amy is also back at school after a quick trip yesterday to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia to see the cardiologist. The results were positive, nothing to worry about. Her biggest fear? “Ms. Betty Anne will call my name and they will have to say ‘absent!’”

Charlie made noise about not wanting to go to school today, but walked in, backpack in hand with nary a fuss. He made a last ditched effort to leave, telling me that he was “ready to go” but I convinced him that his friends needed help putting together a railroad track. He shrugged his shoulders, said, “Well, okay” and walked off.

I walked back to the house with all kind of grand plans for the morning, none of which materialized. Oddly, I don’t really care. I have been running myself ragged over the past month or so. I needed a moment to not feel responsible for anything or anyone. I needed to drink some cold coffee (not on purpose but I was desperate for caffeine) and think.

In the midst of it all, a friend texted me, sounding like she needed to chat, so we did. For quite a bit, actually. And it was oddly therapeutic for me.

She is kind of where I had been awhile ago - my head not quite on straight, worried about money and the kids and my relationship with Chris. And although I know it sounded patronizing, I found myself uttering the words, “It will get better.” And I believed it.

Nothing is easy. And sometimes, things feel insurmountable. When you pile on thing after thing, it’s easy to get lost. And for the last year or so, I have felt very, very lost. Vulnerable. Discounted. Unappreciated. Worthless. I felt like I was just stumbling through every day and barely hanging on - some days, I wondered what would happen if I just kept driving down the highway. I wanted to get away from everything. It was a dark, miserable place to be.

And while I was feeling all of this, the bad news and the bad feelings kept piling on. My dad’s health declined at the same time that my mom’s health was also going south. My brother announced he was getting a divorce. Our move fell through. I was worried about Katie’s school. Amy’s sleep issues were getting worse. The house had a plague for five months (damn parasites). I began to hate work. Blogging and writing were no longer sources of comfort, they were chores. I had a falling out with some of my neighbors and the results were painful. I felt lonely. And resentful. And cynical. And scared.

I had no joy.

Things needed to change. Chris, often wiser than I give him credit for (and don’t you dare tell him that I said so), knew it, too. You have to, he would say, take some time off for you. I would, being the martyr, argue that I couldn’t. Really, it was that I wouldn’t. I think I was afraid of what would happen if things changed. As bad as they felt, they could always get worse, right?

But then I thought about what I was doing to my kids. I have always prided myself on being a good mom. But I wasn’t being a good mom. I was stressed and short with them. I yelled a lot. A lot. I didn’t have it in me emotionally to be the “fun mom” and physically, I was so out of shape that I had no stamina to play much.

I realized that I was exactly who I had never wanted to be: the fat, bitter mom that sat on the sidelines at everything yelling at her kids and blaming the world for everything.

And that wasn’t really me.

It just wasn’t.

And I resolved to make it stop.

The easiest change was physical. I started exercising more and eating better. I even joined Weight Watchers online. As of this morning, I weigh 33 pounds less than I did in spring. That is as much as Amy weighs. I feel better. I eat better. I’m more active. I run, I walk, I play soccer with the kids. I am not as tired as I used to be.

I look better. At my low point, I was struggling to button my size 16 jeans. This morning, my size 12 skinny jeans were drooping a bit in the back. I may be getting size 10 jeans soon. I haven’t worn a size 10 for almost 15 years.

I was so ready for a change when the weight started dropping that I wanted more. Last month, on a whim, while waiting for my kids to get their hair cut, I cut mine. All off. It’s short and sassy now, like I used to be. I love it.

But like I said, that was the easy part. It’s much harder to fix your heart and your mind.

I started with trying to eliminate some of my stresses. You know, those things that I swore that I had to do but I didn’t really. I let them go a little at a time. Last week, I let the biggest one go - my job as a Channel Editor at b5media. It was a job that I initially enjoyed. And I loved my bloggers at the Business Channel, such a great group of folks. But the job was time consuming - and not in a good way. Changes were happening at the company and I wasn’t on board with a lot of them. And the great sense of community, the one that I used to look forward to every morning? It fell apart. Mistrust and lack of respect ran deep. It was eating away at me. So I resigned. Yesterday was the first day in more than a year that I wasn’t responsible for checking my email every five seconds, I didn’t have any fires to put out, I didn’t have to figure how to spin bad news. It was officially not my problem. And it was a wonderful feeling.

I changed my workload at the office. I decided not to take any new clients for a bit, I have more than enough to keep busy. And despite that horrible feeling that I should, must, absolutely take every case that walks through my door, I have stuck to it.

And little by little, I’m trying to find my joy again.

I’ve realized through all of this, that no matter how unfair life seemed, how much it felt like everything was out of control, it was always me who allowed myself to fall apart. I made the decision that I wasn’t worth taking care of, that it was okay for people to take advantage of me, that maybe the person that told me that I got what deserved was right. That was all me. All of it.

Monday was my birthday. Every year for my birthday, Chris makes me a photo album - the coolest gift ever. This year, he had to make two. And last night, as I was looking through the books, I was terribly sad. I realized, staring at pictures, that I lost nearly a year of my life. I actually could not remember some of the events in the album - our trip to Gettysburg, for example. I have been so overwhelmed by everything that I wasn’t in the moment for literally weeks on end. And I can tell: I am not smiling in a single picture.

But not anymore. I’m focusing on my energy on getting better. I don’t want to become that bitter person who allows negativity to eat away from the inside out. I am better than that.

Does this mean that everything is perfect? Of course not. I’m far from where I need to be. But does it mean that I’m trying? Yep. I owe it to my husband and my kids to be a better person. But mostly I owe it to me.

I hope that if you find yourself in a similar situation, you hang on. It will get better. Trust me.