my syndrome : f.i.m.

i have a condition, it is not so rare.  maybe i am one of the few who readily admit that they actually have it.  i have never been professionally diagnosed.  however seeking  professional help may be my next step, if it can not get under control. as long as i can remember i have had it.  i know of someone being diagnosed with l.o.i., or lack of interest.  so i am assuming that f.i.m., or foot in mouth is a true medical syndrome.

usingenglish.com defines this social idiom as :  'Foot in mouth'
This is used to describe someone who has just said something embarrassing, inappropriate, wrong or stupid.

yep, that's it. sometimes i think i only take my foot out of my mouth long enough just to put the other one in. in almost every social setting i have found myself , my f.i.m. affects at least one conversation, if not more, as i try to dig my toes out of the back of my throat.  other than not talking there must be a reasonable solution?  i have to admit it has been getting better, yet, i still more often than not, walk away with a yucky pit in my stomach saying "really alana, did you have to say .......?"

"life is sad, death is weird" at a funeral

"that dress is hooker'ish" about a bridesmaid dress, to the bride, who liked the dress

"only a real man could do that" to a man who couldn't

" i just tell them no don't do that" just unnecessary and rude

"you are not dating material" in so many words, too brutal to explain

and these are only a couple of the countless things that i am willing to admit. i could go on and on. my intentions of speaking have never been to hurt someone, it just happens.  i wouldn't consider myself a malicious person.  i do not enojoy conflict, debating or tearing people down.

 i am only to assume that everyone who can handle themselves appropriately has an internal dialouge filter.  evedentilly people with f.i.m. syndrome are lacking in the filter department. however i have been catching myself alot lately. i am so glad no one can really hear the internal dialouge that has been occuring in my head. "alana 'that' would not be acceptable".  "alana, you have said enough about that". "alana, don't say it, don't say it, don't say it".  i may be on the road to recovery. isn't the first step admitting you have a problem?

sock issues

sometimes i try really hard to think back and remember what it was like when i was little.  what was frustrating and dramatic?  i just remember playing. playing inside, playing outside. i don't think drama started till, probably jr high.  but it wasn't huge drama, i feel like i almost held it together for the little things?  i could be hazy and remembering details have never been a strong suit for me.  i have a hard time remembering yesterday. 

either way, there are some things that just aren't worth getting upset about. i have been told numerous, more times than i can count, that "you should be so glad it's all boys, and not all girls, girls are all drama".  i beg to differ.  now i am sure girls represent their own amount of drama, and it's probably just kids learning how to handle emotions right? ( i heard it was all the extra hormones put in milk? but we drink almond milk, so unless these almonds have been injected with hormones to make them fatter and juicier then it kinda sounds like an excuse for unruly children - ha) my boys, bless their little hearts, are full to the top with drama. 

some drama is great. i hear all kinds of amazing stories, and superhero fantasies, extra hugs and kisses, dramatic performances, exciting fall on your knee moments and screaming at sports on tv (it's history in the making you know- so i've been told).  perfect example, on the way to church this morning, we chanted and cheered and clapped each light we approached "green....... green........ green.........." and we hit every green light.  very dramatic and exciting car ride. good times.

however, there is a dark side to the drama.  it's the little stuff. the, i'm so hungry i will scream and throw my self on the floor and jerk around convulsing screaming "i'm so hungry, i'm so hungry, i'm so hungry". ok, i can handle that, i get it, i want to do that too sometimes. yet i refrain.  doesn't phase me to see this.  there is the, fake injury because i all of a sudden don't want to keep up i feel you are walking too fast maybe this will slow her down.  again, "shake it off son, it will help to walk it off".  i could go on and on.  the most dramatic thing in our house right now is the "sock issue".

i didn't even know there was such a thing.  i didn't know something so trivial, so not important to survival, so annoying existed.  yet, all of the boys have it.  it cannot not be a learned behavior, i do not freak out and cry every time i put socks on.  for theo, it may be learned , he is the silent observer, and says "owie, owie, owie, sock mom" when i put his socks on , but that is the extend of it for him- so far. (well it may be genetic, i could write an entirely seperate entry for my handsome hubby, who as more than once said, "if i could afford it, i would wear a brand new pair of socks everyday, and then donate them because they are only comfortable the first time you wear them")  for the other three it is more of a , i will only wear a certain type of sock.  if i do not have this certain sock, life is not ok , and i may die. 

i will not disclose names to protect the not so innocent identities of this sensitive, delicate issue.

one will not where a crew sock of any kind.  absolute refusal.  will wear the socks worn the day before and through the night (the socks do not come off for sleeping, only baths and swimming, otherwise socks must remain on feet at all times, even through the summer) if there are no clean ankle length socks available. NOT low cut, just regular ankle.

one only wears low cut ankle.  and only a certain brand, the other low cut ankles cannot and must not be worn with shoes or he cannot function, and has made us late due to tears and gnashing of teeth which resulted in the changing of the socks.  now they are the lounge around the house, not to ever again be worn with shoes until the feet grow into them properly socks.

one ( and this poor sweet boy has it the worst )  will only wear low cut ankle socks inside out.  the inside fabric that rubs on the inside of your foot is so unbearably painful and horrific it is impossible at this point to even consider wearing them the right way. especially if there has to be a shoe on it. "ahhhh....... it's cutting me, it's cutting me....... aahhhhhhh."  HOWEVER, if no low cut ankle socks are available due to the pile of laundry and excessive sock changing that occurs each day, than a colorful themed, characterised, race car'ed, sport pic, regular ankle sock with rubber no slip grip on the bottom, is acceptable. they can be worn properly and do not cause the grief or pain when worn in a shoe.

not good times. now that's some drama. it's too bad the saying is "save your drama for your mamma".

parenting

so my oldest boy here is about to be 7 in feburary.  i am not too sure how i feel about that.  it's exciting we are entering new phases in life, but almost overwhelming that now that the baby phase is almost over (which has felt like an entire lifetime that i can barely remember or recall ) all new challenges are going to keep coming and kickin me in my face.  poor kid, it must be hard to be the first born.  everything's new, they are pretty much a guinea pig paving the way for future siblings. i had no idea what i was doing.  as a matter of fact i am pretty sure i still have no idea what i am doing.  the problem is each kid has their own thing.  each one of my boys are completely different.  each phase that they have gone through has been different, they react different, handle discipline different, apparently they all have their own genetic make-up. the only thing they all have in common is a strong will.  we do not have the "compliant" kid.  the one you always hear about, "so and so was always so good, and we barely had to discipline them".

before kids i always had these grandiose plans and ideas of exactly how my kids would be.  you know, you did it too, the "my kid will never..."'s.  like "my kid will never talk back to me", "my kid wont' talk to other adults like that", "my kids won't be picky eaters, they will eat what i put in front of them", one of my ultimate favorites "my kid won't ever sleep in our bed with us, ever!".  i have had a harsh reality check : children are little people with free wills, who do not always agree with what you are trying to do, and will always want to do the opposite.  so my kids talk back (not without punishment), say crazy stuff in front of other adults, refuse to eat and go to bed hungry and wake up the next morning in a hypoglycemic rage, and this little boy #4 has slept in our bed more times than i care to mention. 

it used to bother me, ok sometimes it really still does. but i used to always think i was just failing all the time, and there was something wrong with me. " i am not as consistent as i should be.  i am too harsh.  i am too soft.  all i do is yell.  all i do is sleep.  they watch too much TV.  they should do this, they should do that, i should be this, i should be that".  but when does it end?  when do i just enjoy the process?  when do i admit to myself that they do not have to be perfect and neither do i?

 i had to quit listening to all the deafening lies swimming in my head and give up my control and say "I  cannot do this on my own, I need a greater power, I need help.  and the only way i will ever reach that, the only way to ever have peace with myself, is to throw my hands in the air, admit defeat, and release all my fears, anxiety, frustrations, stress, worries, exhaustion, confusion, doubt, and the mack daddy of it all control, and say "you know what Lord, i cant' do this without you, take it all, YOU are in control."  i had a dear friend of mine, when i was in the middle of breaking down in sobs remind me, that we are called to walk in freedom. freedom that can only come from surrendering my life to Jesus.  freedom from all the weight i have been carrying on my shoulders.  freedom to breathe in and enjoy what little time i have with my kids.  "so walk in that freedom" she said.  epiphany.  i dont' have to be anything that i think i am supposed to be. my kids don't have to fit in some perfect little box with a perfect bow. they are going to make it. i am going to make it.

whew.

so fail at start one

apparently i have no motivation to write a blog.

 so maybe i will give it a go again.

 this is a new year right? 

a time for new commitments and goals.  right?  i don't know. i am pretty sure i have no long term goals, dreams or aspirations.  does survival count?  i plan to survive.  i plan to make it through one day at a time and not go completely insane.  that sounds good to  me.  i am 100% secure in my decision to survive.  during this survival time in my life i will except new challenges as they present themselves.  i will rise to daily incidents that require my attention. i will lean on the Lord and not my own strength.  i am attempting to be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.  wait, can i consider these as goals?  i will. 

correction.

 i have some goals in place. it is going to be a great year.  despite my circumstances, whatever they may be.