It's hard being new

We have had a lot of children move into our ward in the recent past.  It is truly an answer to prayers.  As we watched our ward age and our youth dwindle, we prayed for more youth and primary children to move in.  And they have!  But it's not easy being new.

Today in Primary the pain of no friends, not knowing anyone's name, and wishing you could just go back home was too much for one girl and the tears spilled over.

I took her to the hall and hugged her and let her tell me how hard it is.  And I just agreed.  It's hard.  Even though we have lived in our ward and our house for 12 years, I remember like it was yesterday how hard it was to be new.

The first couple of weeks in Relief Society were OK.  But I needed and wanted friends who were also young moms.  I spotted where they sat--together on the right side of the room.  So the next week, I sat on the right.  All the young moms came in and sat on the left.  In fact, no one else even sat on my row.

The next week I sat on the left and all the young moms sat together on the right.

Photo credit: veletsianos.com

I gave up hoping anyone my age/situation would sit with me and sat in the middle of the middle section in the Relief Society room.  Thankfully, some people sat on my row, but the closest they got was three seats away.  I felt like I had leprosy.  "Why," I wondered, "would no one sit by me?"

The next week I tried not to get to Relief Society so early.  I went to the bathroom after Sunday School and hoped that I could sit by someone even if no one would sit by me.

When I came in the Relief Society room, I smiled.  I said hello.  I sat down on the back row, since the back row was always, always full. The women I had greeted moved away.   And I wasn't sitting within 5 seats of anyone else.  Just like our Primary child, I looked in my lap and started to tear up.  I planned an escape to the bathroom, where I didn't know how long I would stay there or what I would do next.

Just then, a woman sat down right next to me.  The seat exactly to my left.  She said hi and asked me how I was doing.  We chatted a little and I managed to keep the tears from spilling over, at least mostly.

I was flooded with such relief that I didn't have to be alone anymore.  Her name is Karen Martinez and shortly after, she was assigned as my visiting teacher.  I cannot express the encouragement and hope I received from this new friend.

Even as I write, the tears spill over remembering the pain of newness and the gratitude when I'd finally found a friend.

Tonight I'll be praying for one Primary child in particular and hoping that the girls around her will be her friend.

What I'd been waiting for wasn't what I expected

The first week of the 2014-2015 school year is in the books.  And my baby, Beck, is in first grade.  While I love having my kids home for holidays, Christmas and summer vacation, I do relish some alone time.  And I have my particular ambitions.

Also, I hate the preschool/kindergarten-almost-in-school-but-not-quite thing.  That thing that I have been doing for the last 4 years.

It is this moment that I have dreamed about--when everyone is in school all day.  I had such grand plans of what I'd accomplish during this time.

1. Work part time.
2. PTA (why not start off as Pres of the Junior High)
3. Get more exercise
4. More diligent scripture study and religious studies
5. Get organized
6. Remodel my house
7. Writing
8. Doing fun activities with friends
9. Family history
10. Temple work

It's an ambitious list, to be sure, but I'd have 6 hours alone each day, right?

The first shock came by way of the realization that no, I don't have six hours.  With Emma gone early and home early with high school, the big boys at the junior high, and the little kids 16 minutes away at our city's very best elementary school, I have between 4-5 hours at most.  Plus mega carpooling.

I still can't quite figure out how to make our afternoons work.  And despite having the goal of being done with everything at 2:00pm I've learned, to my shock, that I can't fit it all in.  I just can't.

And I'm back to a familiar place where I realize that something's gotta give.

I keep thinking, "I'll just spend an hour and map out my week."  Then the list I have to map seems depressing.  And I'm bummed about the things that don't make the cut. And I wonder why I'm doing so much. And my week doesn't get mapped.  And I *know* I'm not be as productive as I should.

The answer I come back to is, "I must get up earlier."  But I have arthritis.  And my husband works late moderately often.  And even when he's home at dinner time, we don't really have *us* time until the kids are in bed.  Which is often after 10pm.  And it's nice to decompress and talk and so what if we don't get to bed until 11:30.  Or 12:00.  Or 12:30.  But going to bed late makes it impossible to get up early.  I need 8 hours and regardless of when I go to bed, I've got to be upright and in the kitchen by 7:15 so I can visit and give a proper send off to my eldest.

So I'll readjust.  Scratch a few things off my list.  And think, "Maybe I can do it all next year when I'm not PTA Pres."

The Post I Didn't Want to Write

March 2014

Part of me has kept hoping that if I don't write this post, that it's not true.  Yet, time and doctors appointments march on and truth is truth whether I want to write it down or not.

Nathan is not doing well.

There.  I said it.  His last several test for macular degeneration have all be successively bad news.  It is as inexplicable and the good news from 9 months ago.

In January, Nathan had a 6 month follow up appointment along with Emma and Annika.  Emma's eye checked out great.  Dr. Cory thought Annika was in good shape as well.  But Nathan was dramatically worse. Dramatically.

I called our pediatrician, who is also a dear friend.  We increased Nate's meds by 50%.  And waited for two months.  March 4th was reckoning day.  I brought Nathan and Annika in for appointments.  Annika was decidedly doing better, but for Nate it was as if we'd done absolutely nothing.

******

July 2014

My goal when I began writing this post months ago was to go into detail on a somewhat scary, but necessary procedure that my retinal specialist thinks will help.  Despite the tone of opening of this post, I felt incredibly calm about the whole thing.  And was somewhat, un-rushed about pursuing the additional procedure which we cannot seem to get insurance approval for. (Something about Nathan not being able to have "age-related" macular degeneration at 11.  While that fact is technically true, it's the only diagnosis that matches his symptoms.)

Meanwhile, Nathan has now had two appointments with more inexplicable good news.  But it's not quite good enough.  And Nate still needs the expensive PDT and we've made no headway with the insurance.

So we've set a date in Sept.  If the insurance won't pay, Wendell and I will pay out-of-pocket (possibly with some family help) and the doctor will donate his time and laser so we can just Get The Thing Done.

The doctor is quite confident it will help.  Still, we both (the doctor and I) recognize that we are using Nate as a guinea pig because of his age (older than Annika), situation and having and eye to give.  (Unlike Emma, who only has one good eye.) Which isn't exactly the kind of thing that makes a mom comfortable.

One the flip side, if we don't do this procedure and he gets huge lesions in both eyes.  Well, that's not a good option either.

It's a weird place to sit, with no easy answers, but a decision that must be made.  And regardless of the outcome, there will be consequences to be paid.

Nate rockin' Wendell's Oakleys.