Social media addict?

Yesterday, I made the decision to remove myself from social media.

Yes, I did….

I deactivated my Facebook account and deleted my Snapchat.

I didn’t have an Instagram or twitter.

However, I do have accounts in all of these for my business.

On a personal level, I am not longer connected to social media.

AND I FEEL FABULOUS!!!

At first, I thought this was going to be hard. How will I survive without seeing everyone’s lives happening before me? How will I make it through a day without seeing how everyone’s first day of school was or how that girl in Bloomington is doing with the new baby. How will I make it without knowing how Ed the coffee guy managed to make it through the Park Ridge Farmers Market or how Bob from California is enjoying his new puppy?

This is how I did it. I replaced that time scrolling through social media with ME time. I looked at my son while I was talking to him. I asked him questions instead of nodding yes while responding to a post. I cleaned the oven, which was pretty cool! I did an amazing amount of marketing on milkshakes for my business and arrived into work early without being tired. While at work I read a book during the slow times and did a little extra cleaning.

It all seems so normal but for me it isn’t normal. I spent way too much time on social media. Doing all these extra things personally and professional has me feeling empowered and ready to tackle some more tasks. That’s crazy!!!!!

Last night I went to bed earlier then I usually do and actually went to sleep!  Like within 15 minutes. That’s unheard of!

This morning I woke up before the alarm and felt great.

I am pretty sure I was addicted to social media. Without it I get a little itchy, I want to just take a quick peek. I pick up my phone to click the big F (that’s F for Facebook) and for a second panic that it isn’t there. But, it’s getting easier and I am looking less.

Another reason I quit social media. It was helping me to build up resentments. I spend a lot of time with my son at home because autism doesn’t let us enjoy day trips out like most families. In addition, his chronic lung disease and oxygen requirements make it hard to just hop on out the door. Watching these assumable normal families enjoy the last few days of summer vacation was making me sad, not happy. Watching stranger’s lives that have no part of my daily life was making me resent them.

Without those visuals I can focus on the gratitude. The beautiful smile and hardy laugh my son enjoys at home. Our everyday hot dog lunches and “black popcorn” with water balloons by the dozen. The chronicles of the Boss (our puppy boxer) and homemade meals (not instagramed or facebooked) by my super BFF hubby! The best part are the text messages from the people IN my life with pictures of their kids first day at school, letting me know they are traveling for a sick family member or just asking to meet for lunch or coffee.  The important stuff!

Advertisements

To teach…or not to teach?

Recently, I have been thinking about going back to school for a degree in Early Education. Since I already have a Bachelors it wouldn’t take too long. I have always wanted to be a teacher. The hours and seasons would work perfect with my seasonal business selling froyo and with John.

Anytime I start thinking about changing careers, making life decisions or anything of that caliber I throw it out into the world. I start talking about it. I truly believe if you put it out there the answers will come. When I mention going back to school to be a teacher most people say, “You could be a Special Ed teacher!!”, like it’s the most exciting thing since sliced pie.

Um, NO!

It’s like a mechanic with a crappy car. He goes to work all day and doesn’t want to come home and take care of his car, too. Just because I have a special ed. child doesn’t mean I would make a great special ed. teacher.

I appreciate all the people that have taken on John and didn’t give up. He went through 5 schools before 6th grade. He had some amazing special ed. teachers and one crappy special ed. teacher (She’s a whole other blog post). But, I don’t think I could do it. I get a real high off of watching kids do “normal” or “typical” things like color, eat, talk, play and breathe. It makes me so happy when kids play using their imagination or when they interact with other children. I would love to be the person to facilitate all this normal behavior. I would also love to be the person to mold these “typical” children into kind, smart productive high schoolers.

So this is me putting it out there, again. I am still on the fence. My brain tells me I am crazy for taking on all this extra work, my heart tells me I could make a difference. I let myself think too much about it and the committee in my head can be a tough committee, not always supportive. I find the most real support, whether it’s for or against, from the real woman in my life. They are the most honest! Sometimes they see things in me that I don’t see, good and bad. When they are brought to the forefront I can recognize the good and work on the bad.

Love my amazing tribe of supportive woman!

Keep me posted

This afternoon John has a doctor’s appointment with his pulmonary doctor, Dr. Lestrud. He was been following John for 12 years now, since John was born. Our relationship hasn’t always been sunshine and daisies. We have learned having and keeping a doctor is hard, like any relationship.

Back in the day when John was on the vent, oxygen, feeding tube and 13 medications 3X a day I would call Dr. Lestrud my “bad boyfriend”. I needed him in my life, but I wish I didn’t. He never listened to me and doesn’t call me back until I start crying.

It took a few mistakes and steps back for him to start hearing my suggestions. I vividly remember talking to him on the phone one afternoon crying because John was home sick and not improving. I was upset that it took so long for him to call me back. I was upset that the medication he was using wasn’t helping and that he wouldn’t prescribe a steroid to help him. We talked for about 15 minutes, I stopped crying, he apologized for making me feel unimportant and we agreed on a plan moving forward. Which if I remember correctly worked out well. I rarely cried when I called him but this time I had reached a limit. I believe he knew that and took action to make the situation a little easier for us.

Ironically, his wife, who is his 2nd wife, was a nurse in the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU) and took care of John at some point. They have 4 kids together, he has 4 other kids from his first marriage. I often wondered if he was this apologetic as a husband as he was with me that day. But, that would be getting too personal with the doctor.

I’m not saying I was always right. He needed to trust me so he can treat my son and I needed to trust him. There is a balance between what is medically right and what I want. Conversations need to be had, respectfully. I don’t know what medications he needs. But, Dr. Lestrud doesn’t know either unless I can articulate what is happening to John in medical terms, with less emotions. Mom’s with chronically ill kids get a crash course in medical jargon and pick it up quickly.

Over the years I have learned to take the emotion out of my communications. It’s not always easy and I didn’t always do it well. But, I did learn that when I can articulate our needs without crying, name calling or being passive aggressive we get better results. This applies in advocating for education, medical and social needs.

When John first came home from the hospital he was going to at least 5 appointments a month. Every appointment I thought there was going to be some great revelation or milestone. Most cases I was disappointed. Most appointments were the usual nurse’s check in (weigh, temp and blood pressure), sit in the room for almost an hour because they over book, see the doctor for 15 minutes and schedule the next appointment for 3-6 months later.  Eventually we were told to come back in 6 months and that seemed like a milestone. 6month!!! You mean not 3 months???  Yeah!!

Today, we are going to see Dr. Lestrud after 3 months to talk about his oxygen needs. I still think something amazing will come out of this, but deep down the little committee in my head is saying “STOP IT, you know it will be a meet and greet and a “keep me posted on his progress at home” visit.” That’s what I get for knowing my son so well, for advocating for him so well all these years. I get a “keep us posted” from the doctor. (Smile) That sentence seriously gave me butterflies, yes that’s me patting myself on the back, after 12 years. Yes, I am patting myself on the back.

Slow and steady is how we roll

Dr. Lestrud explained what a good wean looks like and we set a plan. Wean the liters from 4 to 3 and see how it goes.  We both agreed we want him to start school in September with or without the oxygen.

Go home and “keep me posted”

ilovebowling
I just wanna bowl!!!!

“I’m glad I got cancer”

I rarely hear woman say “I wanna be just like my mom someday”.  We hear boys say they want to be just like their dads when they grow up, why don’t woman say it more? Such different relationships…

Today, I yelled at John. You might think I don’t yell a lot, maybe it was just today? No, I yell all the time. I think my normal talking voice in this house is yelling. I cannot have a conversation without talking over John and his technology devices going off so I scream “Turn it down” mid-sentence and keep going. Newcomers to the Murphy household are usually shell shocked and wondering how I can even have a conversation and retain anything we talked about.

Anyway, I started off talking about mothers. I spent years praying to not be anything like my mom. Now I wish I was like her. She was a mother that had a lot against her. She raised four very different kids in a mostly unhappy marriage as a stay at home mom. After her divorce she went out to work as a bartender, later getting a job with the Chicago School system doing janitorial work. Her relationships with her kids were strained because we were little assholes. Except for my older brother Teddy, he was and is non-judgmental and empathetic. I know he was towards our mother, not so much with others. Even though I believe he really is but tries to play it off like he isn’t. He is generous and is always helping people. A friend of his went to prison and Teddy was the only one who kept in touch with him, sent him gifts, money, etc.  When I asked him why he even bothered he said, “Why not, the guys got nothing else going for him”. When that friend got out of prison, less than 3 months later he died of a heart attack. I think about how that poor man died when his life was getting ready to change for the better and how grateful he was for Teddy’s correspondence all those years.

My mom was diagnosis with brain cancer when Johnny was a baby. I was devastated and so was Teddy. Even today I feel these overwhelming waves of guilt in me for the absence in my mother’s life for so many years, it was intentional absence. I was so mean and judgmental. Unfortunately, it took an illness for me to have any empathy for her at all. She had cancer for 6 years before she passed, we had an amazing 6 years filled with great memories. I would hop on a plane every 3-6 months to visit her in Ireland where she lived to spend a few weeks with her. Teddy and I would take turns going, sometimes going together. Mom told my cousin Mikey one day, “I’m happy I got cancer. I don’t think I would have known how much everyone loves me”.

When he told me that my heart was broken for all the lost years. All the years she wanted to talk to me and I wouldn’t. All the years I didn’t even know why I was mad at her other than other family member’s influences. That day I vowed to live a life where there was no question about love. People I love know I love them because I tell them when I see them. Even if they think it’s strange, I say it. Last weekend, we went to John’s ECMO reunion to celebrate his survival. We have kept in touch with all those folks for over 12yrs. Danny, the ECMO specialist that cared for John, is a friend we see rarely but still considered a friend because of his role in our lives. As I was leaving I told Danny “I love you, see you next year”. He said he loves me back, but I didn’t’ expect that. I truly love him for his role in my son’s life, his survival.

When the feeling rises, I say it. On the other hand, people I dislike usually know it, too. Not because I tell them. Because I create boundary’s that keep them at a distance. For example, my sister and I haven’t seen or talked to each other since Dad died. I do not like her, how she treats her family or how she treats other people. I don’t want to judge her, condemn her or save her, so I create the boundaries. Some people need to save themselves and my role in their life may be only to watch me from afar or not.

I remember mom yelling at us when we were kids. Once she chased me around the front room with a broom and almost made contact. I probably said something disrespectful.

I hate that I yell at John. Sometimes I can’t help it. I always apologize to him without the “but”. I remind myself that I am teaching him how to be treated. We make mistakes, we make amends, we forgive, we pray and we live in gratitude. Thank God for the ability to take time outs, restart our day and thank god for LOVE!

At the end of the night he has never turned away a hug or kiss, for that I am grateful. At the end of the night he knows I love him!

Grateful for the chaos

Today, I thought to myself “I don’t think I’ve had my period in a while?” So I checked my handy little memo pad on my phone and the last period was May 8th! Which means I am either due for my period July 8th and just skipped a month or I am going through menopause. I know, you’re sitting there reading this thinking “Girl, you better get a pregnancy test!” But, I refuse to believe that I am pregnant.  I’m too old for that!

In the meantime, I am losing my mind. I walk into a room and forget what I came in for. I start working on my computer and forget what I was starting to do. John is downstairs throwing remote controls around, chanting and suffering through the consequences, so dramatically. The sitter just texted to say she will be here at 12:30pm instead of 10am because she had to pick up her niece. Opps, I guess we aren’t a priority!

Last night, I sent an email to North Park University to inquire about a second Bachelor’s degree in elementary education.  I can’t sell froyo forever, right?! Can I?! I sent this email after working a 12 hour shift two days in a row because I suspended two girls at the shop, one I should have fired but seem to have a soft spot and can’t do it.

Sounds chaotic? That’s not the half of it. But, this is life. I will take this life over the crazy chaos I created on my own 7 years ago. I need to be reminded that even if life gets crazy I have the tools to get through it with grace and dignity. I can do this without screaming, crying or curling up into a ball.

Grateful for progress and not protection, grateful for the ability to restart my day at any time of the day so I can at least try to get it right and grateful for my chaos!

Now, let me go downstairs and go over the schedule with my son for the 15th time this morning, its 10:34am.  The boys excited that mommy is taking the day off tomorrow to go bowling with him. Hopefully, the employees show up for work!

First blog post: Who am I?

Today, I am an entrepreneur, a mother and wife. As I type this my son has his head resting on my thigh with an oxygen mask attached to his face via a home concentrator. Its bedtime so my husband is downstairs watching TV and probably sleeping because I have the kid watch night shift. It’s a routine we have become accustomed to over the last 12 years. More on that later…

The past me was a nine to fiver for a 500K corporation. I was working my way up to the top, having liquid lunches, meaning Bacardi, and kid free. Until I fell into marriage, became a foster parent and had my son John. Then, I was a stay at home mom turned medical advocate with a crash course in medical jargon and an education advocate with “due process” always in my master plan, but thankfully never initiated. This ME became a lonely housewife that liked to party.

Once you hit your bottom there is no other place to go but up. If you are desperate enough to change and surround yourself with the right people they will give you the steps to keep you moving forward even on your loneliest days.

The future ME, I haven’t met yet. I take it one day at a time and let my life play out the way it should. 10 years ago, I never would have imagined being the owner of a successful sweet treat shop. I’m pretty sure anyone who knew me couldn’t imagine it either. I think this is why I am blogging. I want to start thinking about what I want to do next. Writing has been such a healing process for me over the years. Some of what I wrote I shared on social media sites and some I did not. This is the time for me to heal from my past, move forward and write about it.

Maybe my future me is a writer?