Changes

Liv describes the feeling best:  like falling backward out of a chair.

We have been invited to leave the family business after Halloween.  I still have two years of school left, and Toby does not yet have another job lined up.  Our enormous house, which I love, was built around the footprint of the corset workshop in the basement. 

Everything is up in the air and I'm exhausted.  Do we go?  Do we stay?  (Raise your hand if you want to try living outside the Bible Belt once in your life?  I raise my hand and wave it around like Hermione Granger...)

I've always been proud of how we make a living.  I like making things with my hands, to be able to admire a shining stack of corsets at the end of the day.  It's such a concrete way to see what I've been working on. 

I'm watching myself go through the stages of grief over this.  The first time I sat at my sewing machine after "the talk," I did not expect to burst into tears.  I kept thinking how no one will know how good I am at this job, making corsets.  Because of the way the company is structured, I've rarely had anyone praise my work personally.  I will miss being skilled at a trade, though it has started to make my hands ache.

I honestly don't know how to feel.  I can see how the business could have supported all of us, I can see how we were a burden.  I'm sure I'm an asshole to work with.  But it all still hurts.  A lot.

I Want to Scream I Love You At the Top of My Lungs, But I'm Afraid That Someone Will Hear Me

We're fresh off the second round of Parent Teacher Conferences for the year.  The kids are doing very well.  I have realized that PTC feel like a statement about how we're doing as parents.  Especially since I went back to school, I've been sensitive about any evidence that I'm neglecting my kids' needs.

I don't have personal experience of growing up in a large family.  I have one sister.  Many of my childhood friends are from larger families, like between 8 and 11 kids.  These friends are still dear friends (or maybe a spouse).  They turned out fine.  So why am I sure that I can't take care of mine?

I realized the problem.  I don't have personal experience of feeling loved and cared for as part of a larger group of siblings.  I don't have an intuitive grasp of how that feels, so I'm insecure about being only one Mom for seven diverse little people.