Shari Becker's Home Page

As you know from my previous entry, it has been a long few months for us. The balance between writing and being a mom has been harder than ever. And there has been yet another curve ball.

Hallie's ear infections have returned in full-force. We've had three since March, and cold season is supposed to be finished!

We have tried it all -- a homeopathic physician, pediatric chiropractor, elimination diet, and massage treatment. Nothing has helped her little ears. A benign cold for everyone else turns into a major issue for her. She is stuck in a cycle: Each time it is the same. Her eardrums become concave as they fill with puss. My doctor calls her condition "sub-acute," my husband and I call it heartbreaking.

Hallie has been a clown since the day she could move. At six months she discovered that if she put underwear on her head, she would make us laugh. She began putting underwear on her head daily -- sometimes twice or three times after that. At 2-1/2 this little toddler knows what is funny. She hides groceries as I unpack my bags and stares at me straight-faced as I seek them out. A few weeks ago, I discovered a loaf of bread hidden in a spaghetti pot deep in a cupboard. She looks at us, tests us, and decides how to proceed. She's constantly asking herself, "Is this funny?"

So while she's wandering around our home singing at the top of her lungs ("I pay pano and sing loud when I go up," she recently told me), her nose is oozing and her ears are swishing. She pokes and pulls a little but no longer seems to feel the pain.

"How do your ears feel?" I ask her.

"Okay, Mama," she says as she plays.

"Do they hurt?" I prod.

"They okay," she says, smiling. Impossible. The doctor just told us your eardrums have no movement!

So, after falls, probably due to her impaired balance, three recent infections, and too many sleepless nights, I'm giving up. I'm going to see the surgeon. I suspect she needs tubes and possibly her adenoids removed. To be honest, it freaks me out. The thought of putting her under general anesthetic makes me cringe and shudder. I have horrible imaginings of a procedure going wrong.

She deserves better than a life of muffled sounds and chronic ear congestion and pain. In this season of epiphanies, I have learned yet another lesson: Sometimes the right decision is the scariest.

Months ago, I decided to take on a freelance project that seemed so exciting. It was something I've wanted to do for a long, long time. And then, finally, the opportunity presented itself. I jumped on it. I overlooked the fact that I was doing the work for a project fee instead of my usual hourly rate. I underestimated the hours the project would take. And, I underestimated the real costs.

The project turned out to be bigger ... way bigger ... than I'd anticipated. At first, I told myself it was okay. I wouldn't be making much money, but the work was fun.

I had to work during time generally allotted for cleaning up the house. No big deal. I had to work during evenings when I usually catch up with my husband. No big deal. The phone was ringing with important calls I had to take during dinner prep time. So we'd eat a little later. No big deal. I had to work during time I'd allotted for my kids. They could watch a video. No big deal.

But it was a big deal. I hadn't planned for this much work. I'd committed to other things. There were laundry piles everywhere. I was sleep deprived, often sick and crabby. My preschooler and toddler were feeding themselves crackers right out of the box and eating cream cheese with their fingers all the while watching video after video. My work materials were spread throughout our house. We had no food to eat. Dinner was macaroni and cheese or hot dogs almost nightly. My kids became distraught. My husband was ticked off. I wasn't taking care of anything or anyone - including myself.

I needed help, but I couldn't afford to hire any because I had so severely underestimated the project hours. I was making less an hour than the college kid who watches my children.

"Who is taking care of us?" Emelia asked me one day. "You're just letting us watch TV. More than ever."

It's funny how we assign costs to the various sacrifices we make. For me, this project wasn't about money. It was about a vision I had of a fabulous freelance gig. It seemed exciting, sexy almost. I was thrilled to be doing something that felt professional again.

Like many glamorous daydreams, it was neither sexy nor exciting. There have been some perks, but I've been too tired to appreciate them. While I thought I was just giving up money, what I really gave up was my commitment to my book writing, to this blog, and most importantly to the stability of my home.

There's more to my life's equation than I thought. I choose a patchwork life because I want to experience it all. I want to be at ballet recitals, and read stories in my daughter's class. I want to have evenings with my husband and fun family weekend outings. I want to express myself creatively through my writing and story telling.

The truth is, I can't have it all. At least not the "All" I imagined. For me, having it all means recognizing I can't do it all.

So the short term plan is to finish up this project. I hope to get most of it done in time for a lovely summer vacation with my kids. It's going to be another long month of work, but I've decided to hire someone to help me out. It means taking a loss financially, but its worth it because the real costs of these past few months have been too great to even assign a dollar amount.

When I was little, my favorite book was The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I read it over and over and over again. I loved how little Mary transformed herself from a sour, sad little soul into a happy, playful girl through the discovery that she could make a garden grow. Mary learns that even plants that seem completely dead can revive if someone takes the time to give them a little TLC.

We're all a little like Mary and her plants, really. Life beats us down between the daily grind, work and home life stresses, and the sometimes frantic pace of getting it all done. A hug, a snuggle, a squeeze is all we sometimes need to take the edge off. If we can find some activity or hobby that really makes us happy, that levity can spread its way into our everyday selves.

Up until a week ago, winter was really getting me down. We'd been mostly healthy for a few weeks, but then Hallie fell down, hit her head on a radiator and needed three stitches on the back of her head. It was bloody, and it was awful, and that's all I'm going to say about that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. The next day Emelia came home from school sick. She was at home for duration of the week, and then on Thursday night Hallie developed a raging ear infection. Back to the doctor on Friday. By the weekend, I was spent. Fried. Begging for Calgon to take me away.

But Sunday was Emelia's 5th birthday party, and there were plans to make, foods to prepare, and two sets of grandparents to feed.

It was all over by Sunday night. Ear was better, party was over, Daddy was happy the house had quieted down, and Mommy was ready to snack on leftover ice cream cake. Yum.

On Monday afternoon, I noticed the first green shoot pushing its way through my garden. Today, I noticed about ten more ... tiny little leaves beginning to make their way up towards the sun. Tulips, crocuses, and hyacinths. (Sorry Mom and Dad, I know you have something like 3, 4, or 20 feet of snow in Montreal, Canada right now.)

I cannot begin to tell you all how happy these tiny leaves make me. For me, it is the sign that spring is just around the corner. I'll annoy Emelia and Hallie by showing them the leaves regularly until flowers begin to bloom. (Mama, you showed us this one leaf already 45 22 3 times!) I know, I know. I just can't help it.

When spring comes, the colds begin to go away. When spring comes, we can play outside. The whole world is filled with a delicious, fresh smell.

When the leaves poke through, we all get a chance to be like Mary. We get to shed our sad, sour winter selves, plant some seeds, and tiptoe through in the tulips.

Dear friends and readers,

I haven't forgotten about my blog - really! After a really bad cold (mine) and then a really bad ear infection (mine, too), things have finally settled down (I hope). I finished up a freelance project, and I'm trying to catch up a little while visiting my folks for a couple of days. I have many things to tell you, and I promise a new blog entry in the coming week!

Thanks for all your patience,

Shari 

My family has spent the past month taking turns getting sick. It seems just like old times.

Hallie has had two colds and a week-long fever. Emelia missed an entire week of school due to a flu-like virus, which she caught from her dad, who was out of commission for almost five days himself with a fever of 102.5 degrees at its peak.

Of course, I accepted a large freelance project right before the illnesses began. What was I thinking? I'm now trying to write while caring for sick kids. They've watched more TV in the past month than they have watched in their entire lives. Oh, the bad mommy guilt!

Heck, I even pulled Hallie out of daycare for the month because it seemed silly to pay for something I wasn't using! So now I'm writing with a kid at home whether she is sick or well. Of course, if I send her to daycare, she'll just get sick and end up back at home anyhow.

My enthusiasm for writing, which I commented on in my last blog entry, feels like a distant memory. At first I tried to be optimistic. If we washed hands, surely we could get out of this cycle. Now I've just come to accept that this is winter in my world. Sick kids. Harried, frazzled mom. Lots of sleepless nights. Far too much work to fit into a short, 2-hour nap or a 30-minute episode of Caillou.

I'm feeling tired. I'm feeling blue. I'm completely overwhelmed.

49 days until spring ... and counting.