Each time I have had one of my children (all three of them), we have moved merely months later. Throughout the pregnancy with my third, I would joke that it was “time to move again” since we would be having a baby. Never did I think that this would actually occur- ha! That’s what you get when you joke, right?

So, third baby in arms, we’re moving again. And then, as with everything with a subsequent child, you become hyperaware of details- how fast they grow, how quickly the baby stage flies by, how much things change in the blink of an eye. This, combined with the upcoming move, has really emphasized how little control of things I sometimes have – even if I wish it otherwise.

I had planned for 2013 to be rather formulaic. The very beginning part of the year would be developing a routine with the new baby, early spring would lead to work travel and blogging more, followed by more travel and networking throughout the year. This year, things would be organized, I would hone my focus and things would fall into place.

Ahem.

Now that we’re throwing a house sale, move to (yet another) state, and a new home search & purchase into the mix, I initially reacted in the way that any sane person would; I panicked. A creature of routine, this repeated sense of chaos gets downright exhausting. However, I suppose that the constant upheaval has, in a sense, become a routine in and of itself. And that is quite the adjustment.

So, I’m going to try to embrace the non-routine routine. I’m going to keep plowing forward, keep working harder, keep an open mind about the location. I’m going to try to enjoy the moments with my kids while balancing the work that I love doing and want to expand on doing. I’m going to load up my family and head to Texas. Tomorrow.

And I’m going to drink a lot of coffee.

How do you cope with big changes?

It all starts out innocently enough.

A stray thought here. A quick flash of imagery there.

A glimpse of something horrific on tv.

A passing glance at an article on the internet.

Something mundane. Nothing unusual or out of the ordinary. No, this is much more subtle than that. It waits until I am lulled in a false sense of complacency. It disappears, sometimes for months, to rear its ugly head when it’s least expected in a flash of emotional turmoil.

Last week was one of those times. My day had progressed normally enough. Work was done, we had put together a couple of the five hundred baby items, the kids were in bed, the house picked up for the night. I had just finished checking the locks and the dog’s water bowl for the evening and began to make my way upstairs.

As I laboriously climbed the stairs, my 30-weeks pregnant body groaning in protest with each step, my mind jumped to an earlier conversation about an elderly relative.

And it slammed into me.

Fear gripped my body as it suddenly became hard to breathe. Tears threatened to spill down my face. My chest, clear and free just moments before, tightened with panic as black dots swirled behind my eyes. I reached out to grab onto the rail, pulling myself up the final stairs so I could collapse in a terrified heap in my room.

We’re all going to die. *I’m* going to die. 23 hours and 45 minutes out of any day, I am logically, reasonably and accepting of this fact. Except when I’m not. Except when the fear and panic and dread and horror paralyze my every ability to move, think, or function for that brief period of time. Except when my mind flashes to a conversation about a relative not doing well, or when I think of a terrible story I read about a child earlier that day, or when I recall recent news of a friend- my age- who had suddenly passed.

Struggling to breathe deeply, I lean my head back against the wall, reaching for the determination and competency in which I can battle this hideous monster. I close my eyes and struggle to control where my thoughts go, what train of thought they follow.

A few more deep breaths. A few gulps of water. An internal battle to maintain control.

Ever so slowly, the fearful grip loosens. I start to be able to breathe, to continue my routine, to stand. The panic recedes, tucking back down into its corner, lying in wait for the opportunity to strike again.

I rise to my feet, determined to let this pass. I struggle to avoid giving into the frustration and the despair that threatens to overwhelm me just as the last wave of emotions washes over me. I try not to feel as though I am losing an ongoing battle once again.

Anxiety. It is a horrible, horrible fight to wage, and one that never seems to fully end. My biggest frustration is when I maintain a handle on it for so long, and the most innocuous detail sets it off once again. It is a battle I seem to avoid for long periods of time, until it resurfaces and wages a vicious war. Being pregnant, hormonal, emotional… these all make me vulnerable, so it takes its best shot.

I am determined not to let it win.

And so, I continue to try to breathe…

School days. As hard as it was to put my son in kindergarten, I don’t think I ever quite realized how much I appreciated the days in school. This past February, I also put my daughter in preschool a few days a week. While the hours seem to fly by much faster than normal when they are both out of the house, they sure are useful- and critical- to getting things done! After a few months, I finally found a decent routine.

And then came Spring Break.

WHO invented spring break??

I needed a strategy, and fast. So, here are my tips to surviving spring break.

1. Get Supplies

I am so not above bribes. Since the weather here in Georgia was hot and it’s still a little too early for the pool, I went shopping. I stocked up on a new sprinkler, some kind of slip n’ slide hopscotch thing, bubbles, and all the chalk I could find. I also made a couple craft buckets up with different activities (one for doing Easter crafts, one for machine creations for my son, one for crown making for my daughter, etc.) to have on hand when I needed to try to get some work done. An afternoon spent stocking up gave me three days of activities- and minimal fighting.

2. Get out of town.

If, like me, you anticipate Spring Break boredom to drive you crazy, convince your husband to take a day or two off of work and get out of town. Instead of making 2 day trips around the country trying to visit relatives, we stuck with a 5 hour road trip to nearby Charleston, South Carolina. Not only is this my birthplace, it’s also the place where my husband and I got married (more about this trip later). We were able to spend a few days together as a family, putting other stress and worry aside, and it broke up the break at home.

3. Get Wine

Put the judging away, I don’t mean for breakfast people. While current health issues prevent this from being possible this year, it highlights how much it has helped in the past… By the end of day two or three (who am I kidding? Day One) of Spring Break, you’re going to need a break. Do yourself a favor and pick out a treat to have at the end of the day. Need ideas? Check out some of Rachel Voorhees’s awesome posts on Momstastic, like these 10 Sauvignon Blancs for under $10.  When your husband gets home from work, say hello, pour a glass of wine, and escape to your porch or patio. You’re welcome.

So, how do you survive spring break? 

Some of y’all may know from twitter I had to have wisdom teeth removed and jaw surgery this week. While most people line up guest posts when they have something going on, I was certain I would not need to do that. Really, how bad could it be?

Ahem.

I had this done on Tuesday and today is the first day I’m feeling mostly myself again. Who would have thought it would be such an ordeal? (You know, besides the doctors who warned me of a week recovery time. Ahem again.)

Anyway, just as a reassurance I have not dropped off the face of the planet, I figured I would share my silly thoughts with you. Lesson learned? Recoveries do not happen overnight!

~*~ To all the amazing Moms who read my blog, I hope you have an amazing and Happy Mother’s Day!~*~

~Ashley