Naturally.

I'm not naturally thin. I'm not naturally beautiful. I'm not naturally happy or smiling all the time. My house is not naturally clean. I'm not rich- well off- or anything remotely close. I'm not overly educated- nor do I carry any knowledge of the world's current events. Sometimes I feel like I live in a bubble- these days my bubble has been bursting a lot. Even though I'm not naturally any of those things I mentioned- I am naturally caring. I am naturally generous and thoughtful. I am naturally funny. I am naturally surviving in the only way I know how. I am naturally an over-acheiever in roles I feel comfortable in- and I am naturally aware of things that happen within my community at home- and the community with which I work.

I am naturally- or maybe un-naturally- trying to keep up- impress- gain approval- feel appreciated.... it doesn't feel like it's working.

I feel like maybe it's time to move on- but it's so hard to let go of something you love. It's so hard to let go of something you believe in and that you feel good doing- and feel like you're good at doing it. When structure and systems interfere it shouldn't be hurtful- it should just be "the way it is" but it is hurtful- I take it personally... and I think I take it personally because deep down I know I can do more- I know I'm worth more. Deep down I know why I strive to impress and gain approval- because deep down- or not even so deep down, I know I deserve approval- and I know my efforts should be appreciated- but they're not and it kills me.

There are no grades- no raises- no thank yous. Systems- or people- there is something not giving me what I want- what I feel I need... and I know you're thinking- why do you need approval when you know what you're doing is good and right? And yea- I know that- but when I can barely help support my family and I work so hard- I know now that education will be key- but education is in the future- when my children are old enough not to need me so much- at least with my kids I feel appreciated, sometimes.

My nature is to do things when I know I'm capable. I have a horrible habit of volunteering for things I know I can do- and do well- and then I feel sad or overwhelmed at the lack of appreciation. I don't want a party- or flowers- or an announcement... but sometimes "hey thanks" or "nice work" would be good. Often in my personal life I do things to make myself feel good- and maybe that's selfish- but little things-- like I mean little things like stopping for a pedestrian, holding a door open, picking up coffee, or words of encouragement, a check-in, a hug--- those things would make such a difference in my day- just to know that someone knows I'm there.... I like to think that when I do those things- those little things- I might make someone feel better, or good-- and I might help make their day better-- which makes me feel better about my day.

I leave my work feeling good about the work I've done- and that should be enough. I feel like I've usually done something to make a difference... maybe not in the entire world, maybe not in someone's entire life (everyday anyway), but maybe just in someone's day- someone's moment... and I feel good about that... I like to think the connections I make will make a difference some how- most of the time at least... I know I'm decent at my job- making a homeless youth cry with positive reinforcement, active listening, and positive reframing-- basic compliments on little things-- things maybe they've never been told before- I know that makes a difference... I know I'm a good adovocate and encourager- I know I'm resourceful and I can tap into networks- I'm not afraid to ask questions and make suggestions... I'm empathic and caring- and I feel that doing-with is more helpful that doing-for... I know I'm an asset to my employer.

Maybe I sound full of myself- like I'm "tooting my own horn". Or maybe I just gave myself the compliments and encouragement I needed to keep going. To keep trying. To hang in there through politics and structure- or lack thereof. I will continue to fight for my rights as an equal- my right to answers and proper policies... and I will continue to love that actual work I get to do... because that work, I do naturally.

Bandaids.

My writing has been constipated... backed up... dying to come out- not enough time to sit down and "get er done" so to speak. Okay. I could totally have used a different analogy- but I have many Momma friends- and what Momma doesn't like to talk about poop?!

This rainy day post-thanksgiving, which I spent at work, feels heavy. I'm not sure if it's because I'm so tired I can barely see straight- or maybe due to the tug and pull of trying to balance work-Amy with Momma-Amy, having nearly lost wife-Amy and Amy-Amy altogether....

My return to work has been awesome. I have missed it and I know why. I still stand by that I'm good at my job... maybe it's time to move on and challenge myself even more- but I'm not quite sure my sleep schedule can handle it. I've also promised Jay, when I was pregnant with Abby- engaged to be married, that he wouldn't have to do construction all his life- that there would be time for his dreams too... now how do I squeeze that in there?

Over the years I've worked many Thanksgivings and Christmases- and generally speaking I really enjoy it- I enjoy being able to spend time in the kitchen preparing a meal for kids- that may have never had a meal like the one I'm cooking- or they have- and they can't go home to be with family for whatever reason- some worse than others...I like to be there to try and bring some positivity into their situation... which I am able to do for almost anyone- with the exception of myself. That old tradition of going around the table saying what you're thankful for gets me every year though- "thankful to be alive" "thankful to have to not sleep outside in the rain" "thankful someone gave me a smoke today" my heart breaks.... and I'm thankful that they shared with me.

Since my bedtime duty has been cut down at least 3/4s due to working many nights a week- I have an appreciation for my children- moreso than before. I love to catch a glimpse of Otis mimicking his sister- literally almost everything she does- he gets right in there- which in turn makes her crazy and she pokes him or pushes him... and then I remember- I remember my younger sister making me crazy- and I remember how I used to torture her.... I remember also, playing with her- endless games of house- or mermaids and crocadiles- riding bikes and climbing the huge hill in our backyard... and I am so thankful my children will have each other- to torture- and to play with- to protect each other- to hug....

Otis has this innocence in his face- but somehow he's still such a cheeky little bugger. Pointing all over the place at birds and planes- items he wants off the counter- and when he doesn't get what he wants... he has mastered the tantrum at 12.5months... and this tired Mommy has mastered the "walk-away-to-another-room" tactic-- to which is battled back with a moving-tatrum- so he is able to throw himself at my feet in the new room... I'm laughing now as I type- but during those moments where exhaustion creeps into my brain- it's no so hilarious.

Abby is changing too. She doesn't draw faces and people or write names like her friends do- but she loves to cut and glue... and do everything herself... which as anyone with small children knows- takes forever... and rarely gets done properly (ie teeth brushing). She picks up on the smallest things- like after dropping an apple referring to it as "a runaway apple" or explaining to me very seriously as I feed Odey his yams and chicken that "Mommy- Odey says to he-self, "ah fuck, yams again!?" Sarcasm is starting to rear it's cheeky head as she "tricks" us- little white lies are appearing claiming she "didnt' do anything- Odey just bonked 'he's' head" which Otis is clearly standing in the middle of a room after she's stolen something from him...

It doesn't matter what happens- they're siblings- who play together from one tantrum and battle to the next. I love to watch when they're playing nicely- Abby gently offering Otis something to play with (always something a little more lame than what she has) and Otis eagerly taking whatever his big sister has to offer- and making the best of it. My hope is that, like my sisters, their relationship simply gets stronger over the years- through the battles and the bumps- I hope they always love each other like they do now.

I'm not sure what brought on that transition- work to home... Maybe it is because I need to take a lesson from the youth at my work- and instead of simply being thankful for my beautiful children and my amazing husband- I need to be thankful for the relationship I have with them. I know they're toddlers not teenagers- and so much can change (and I really hope Karma isn't a bitch like they say- or I'm in big trouble) I am thankful I am not forced to spend the holidays away from my family- with some 'perky' stranger trying to pretend everything is not-so-bad- like I do every year... I'm not without empathy at work, I never say "it could be worse" but admittedly for those meals I do cook on the stats- I try to put a little bandaid on their problems with delicious comfort food- and I guess there's nothing wrong with that....

Finding balance has been difficult. Jay has been amazing as per usual- and my only complaint is that he could fold more laundry... things are not easy here in this little house.. but we're making the best of it- heading into the long nights of winter- we have each other- even if it's just over texts messages and phone calls as we pass each other in night and early morning- we all know we have a place to go home to.

I'm grateful for the youth who have found our resource to call home- every day I learn something- sometimes it's trivial- like the meaning of "I just hooped that stuff when I went to jail" and sometimes it's much more meaningful- teaching me that we all have our stories- some of them are more heartbreaking that others- but it's the stories that shape people- families.... I do know that my bandaid of a warm meal or homemade cookies brings youth to the table- and even if I can get them to smile a little- or share a bit of their story- I'm starting to build a relationship with someone and maybe I can be part of a chapter in their stories- a part where maybe things got a little better for even just a few moments.. and maybe.. those moments will turn into days, weeks, years....

Universe forbid my kids ever end up out of home- but if they do- I hope someone's cooking and openess puts a bit of a bandaid on their story- long enough to be reminded of home- of love- of family...