So when my perfect job-share arrangement came to a crossroads because of a merger I decided to venture into the unknown and start a daycare with a good friend of mine. To say it's been a challenge would be an understatement. I, along with my partner, have spent thousands of dollars and over a year of our lives preparing to open our daycare and the last five months trying desperately to keep it.
Being a former Marketing professional it's hard not to feel the sting of each failed advertising attempt. The radio ads, newspaper ads, fliers, social media have barely yielded a few kids. I have spent a lot of my personal money trying desperately to make a new career for myself and here I am two steps back. I have taken a leave of absence from the daycare in order to give my partner an opportunity to pay her mortgage for awhile longer and buy us the time to try and make this all work out. But the truth is that neither of us knows will happen.
Again I find myself standing on the precipice of change. It's scary because it's unknown. But I've already decided (with my husband of course) that should things with the daycare not pick up, I'm not going back to work. The daycare expenses and the cost of gas would likely devour any income I'm likely to make. But beyond the practicalities of life, I hear my grandmother's voice echoing across the expanse of my heart, "But why are you going back to work, you wanted that baby so much." I would give anything to hear my grandmother's voice for real, to tell her what's going on and ask for her advice. She taught me that choices are a luxury, and she taught me that I had more choices than I realized.
So I've been home for a week now and it's not what I thought it would be. It's not boring at all. I find that I don't actually hate cooking and cleaning. I hated having to cram everything into the scraps of time I'm given during the course of a work week. Rushing to cook the second I got home from work, filling an entire Saturday doing laundry. These things made me resent what for all working moms is commonly known as the second shift. We work all day, get home and work all night. Moms literally work all the time and so often I just felt rung out like a dish rag. I felt overworked, stressed out, unappreciated, and resentful of my husband for whom the second shift did not apply. That's not to say he doesn't do things around the house (good God I can hear him recanting every time he's taken out the garbage or unloaded the dishwasher). The realm of family and household responsibility has always overwhelmingly been mine. You can understand this when what tasks are done by your husband are often presented with this lovely protest, "But I help you." Yes help implies that it is extra, not necessary, and yes belongs to me. But now the second shift has become a long shift with more fluidity and flexibility.
I absolutely hate cleaning bathrooms, but I cleaned all three of mine from top to bottom this week and it wasn't so bad. I did all the toilets one day, the tub one day, the counters and floors another and it seemed much easier. I've taken my kids to park, the library and have just spent time being with them. I've created our first ever family budget, oh yes I can hear the groans. It should have been done years ago, but it's really opened up my eyes as to what we spend money on. Make no mistake, work has a lot of expenses of its own. Now I'm committed to saving money wherever I can. So as of this moment I don't know if I'm a stay at home mom for now or for the long haul. I'm just trying to enjoy and be open to change, whatever it brings me.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Motherhood Turned Career
I've spoke about my opinion on this subject before, that I think motherhood should be viewed as a career. Now I've actually gone and done it. I'm now co-owner of a daycare with my best friend and it certainly is Motherhood times 10. I now kind of understand what it must be like to have triplets as there are 3 babies to care for every day, plus my two, plus 6 year old twins after-school.
I love that I get to wear jeans and a sweatshirt to work, not to mention the fluffier and funnier looking the socks the better. I'm the anti-fashionista and I like it this way. Sure I spend most days with some degree of snot, spit up or other bodily fluid on me, and sure I got an accidental hand full of poop when one of the babies was carefully concealing a poop splosion, but I just can't help but laugh about it afterward. It's not anything different than I've encountered during my four years as a mom. Even when there are 3 babies crying I have a great friend there to help me laugh off any feelings of being overwhelmed.
I think it's safe to say that I've slipped into my new career quite seamlessly. I went from sitting in my cubicle like veal to feeling fresh air (weather permitting of course), playing games, reading stories, and hanging out with some pretty cool little people, not that I don't miss some of the co-workers I no longer see. As expected, the pay is not all I dreamed it would be, but we're working on it. All the stress that I had before has melted away and I never worry about getting in trouble for talking to my co-worker too much. I don't have to sit through any more awkward annual reviews where I try to play up my awesomeness to people who don't really care all that much about me anyway. Not to mention that every day is take your children to work day.
If anything it's made me a better mother. I've really watched and helped my children acquire new skills. Hannah has started reading and she works on writing her letters every day. She is using scissors well and has found a love for putting puzzles together. My son has found new children to give hugs to and play with besides his big sister. Sure we're on our second nasty cold in two months and both kids got their very first ear infections last week (in both ears), but hopefully their immune systems will be equipped to handle the onslaught of germs they'll encounter when they start school.
I used to think that if I just made more money and had more time off then I'd be happy in my career. But here I am making less money,working 10 plus hours a day and I couldn't be happier. I sleep like a baby at night and I never ever worry about what the new day will hold for me. I know any stress I feel will quickly be replaced with laughter. I can pull my kids in for a snuggle whenever I want. I can snuggle little babies and know with 99 percent certainty that I will never again have baby fever. We do need more kids enrolled because life is still life and there are always bills that need to be paid, but at least know I know that I won't have to pay with my sanity.
I love that I get to wear jeans and a sweatshirt to work, not to mention the fluffier and funnier looking the socks the better. I'm the anti-fashionista and I like it this way. Sure I spend most days with some degree of snot, spit up or other bodily fluid on me, and sure I got an accidental hand full of poop when one of the babies was carefully concealing a poop splosion, but I just can't help but laugh about it afterward. It's not anything different than I've encountered during my four years as a mom. Even when there are 3 babies crying I have a great friend there to help me laugh off any feelings of being overwhelmed.
I think it's safe to say that I've slipped into my new career quite seamlessly. I went from sitting in my cubicle like veal to feeling fresh air (weather permitting of course), playing games, reading stories, and hanging out with some pretty cool little people, not that I don't miss some of the co-workers I no longer see. As expected, the pay is not all I dreamed it would be, but we're working on it. All the stress that I had before has melted away and I never worry about getting in trouble for talking to my co-worker too much. I don't have to sit through any more awkward annual reviews where I try to play up my awesomeness to people who don't really care all that much about me anyway. Not to mention that every day is take your children to work day.
If anything it's made me a better mother. I've really watched and helped my children acquire new skills. Hannah has started reading and she works on writing her letters every day. She is using scissors well and has found a love for putting puzzles together. My son has found new children to give hugs to and play with besides his big sister. Sure we're on our second nasty cold in two months and both kids got their very first ear infections last week (in both ears), but hopefully their immune systems will be equipped to handle the onslaught of germs they'll encounter when they start school.
I used to think that if I just made more money and had more time off then I'd be happy in my career. But here I am making less money,working 10 plus hours a day and I couldn't be happier. I sleep like a baby at night and I never ever worry about what the new day will hold for me. I know any stress I feel will quickly be replaced with laughter. I can pull my kids in for a snuggle whenever I want. I can snuggle little babies and know with 99 percent certainty that I will never again have baby fever. We do need more kids enrolled because life is still life and there are always bills that need to be paid, but at least know I know that I won't have to pay with my sanity.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
The Check Engine Light
We've all see in it at some point in our life. Life is moving along rather uneventfully and then there it is, the God DAMN Check Engine Light. It's yellow glow reminding us that we better be mindful of our car maintenance and better get things looked at right away or else we may find ourselves stranded on the side of the road somewhere. I wonder if how you react to a check engine light reveals something about your character.
My mini-van's check engine light goes on and off from time to time. I got freaked out when I first saw it. My husband plugged it in and it's a bad sensor. Don't ask me which, cause I don't remember. All I really care to know about the vehicle I'm driving is whether or not it's going to get me home safely today. When my car failed to break down each time it rubbed it's little yellow glow in my face, I learned to dismiss it. But every time I dare to forget about it entirely it pops up and reminds me that I really should care.
Because anyone who knows me knows I love a good metaphor, I'm adopting the Check Engine light as my metaphor of the week. Some people like me are extremely vocal when they're having a tough time, but then there are those for whom a small, quiet glowing warning light is all that exists to indicate to the outside world that something is wrong. In my magical car metaphor, I'm that clunky noise you try to describe to your mechanic in a rather sad explanation of what's wrong, but I worry about the people and mothers especially who never show any outward signs of distress. I hope that someone is paying attention to these women and saying to themselves "I better figure out what's wrong before something worse happens."
We all get so used to asking each other, "How are you?" but hardly anybody really expects a real answer. We wait two seconds for the obligatory "fine" and carry on with our own preoccupations. I'll never forget that there was one person I asked years ago, who dared to give me a real answer. I was walking through the halls of my workplace, busily trying to get accomplished whatever my current task was and I happened to say hello to a co-worker and asked him how he was. As it turned out, his mother was dying and for the next half hour we talked about it. It was a very personal conversation for co-workers and yet I felt somehow that is was natural. Losing my Dad had given me a common vantage point to understand what he was going through, to see the very spot on life's path that those who haven't been there simply cannot.
I'm not sure why he trusted me enough to share his feelings with me, but I have the theory that his check engine light had simply turned on and he had been waiting for someone to notice. In turn he became someone I could talk to when my light blinked on.
I hope that I'm the type of person who cares enough to notice when someone really needs another person to simply care enough to know what's going on in their lives. But the truth is we all get preoccupied with our own lives and let's face it, it's incredibly easy to ignore that small glowing light in others that warns that things are not as great as they might appear. Though I sometimes worry that my over sharing nature might make some people uncomfortable, I know exactly what happens to me when I ignore my light for too long.
It's for this reason that I implore the stoic, the polished and perfected, and the perpetual caretakers to speak up and maybe give someone a chance to really listen beyond the "fine". Of everyone else I make this small and simple request- every once in a while stop and look around you and really take note of the silent, steady glow. There's usually a light on somewhere.
My mini-van's check engine light goes on and off from time to time. I got freaked out when I first saw it. My husband plugged it in and it's a bad sensor. Don't ask me which, cause I don't remember. All I really care to know about the vehicle I'm driving is whether or not it's going to get me home safely today. When my car failed to break down each time it rubbed it's little yellow glow in my face, I learned to dismiss it. But every time I dare to forget about it entirely it pops up and reminds me that I really should care.
Because anyone who knows me knows I love a good metaphor, I'm adopting the Check Engine light as my metaphor of the week. Some people like me are extremely vocal when they're having a tough time, but then there are those for whom a small, quiet glowing warning light is all that exists to indicate to the outside world that something is wrong. In my magical car metaphor, I'm that clunky noise you try to describe to your mechanic in a rather sad explanation of what's wrong, but I worry about the people and mothers especially who never show any outward signs of distress. I hope that someone is paying attention to these women and saying to themselves "I better figure out what's wrong before something worse happens."
We all get so used to asking each other, "How are you?" but hardly anybody really expects a real answer. We wait two seconds for the obligatory "fine" and carry on with our own preoccupations. I'll never forget that there was one person I asked years ago, who dared to give me a real answer. I was walking through the halls of my workplace, busily trying to get accomplished whatever my current task was and I happened to say hello to a co-worker and asked him how he was. As it turned out, his mother was dying and for the next half hour we talked about it. It was a very personal conversation for co-workers and yet I felt somehow that is was natural. Losing my Dad had given me a common vantage point to understand what he was going through, to see the very spot on life's path that those who haven't been there simply cannot.
I'm not sure why he trusted me enough to share his feelings with me, but I have the theory that his check engine light had simply turned on and he had been waiting for someone to notice. In turn he became someone I could talk to when my light blinked on.
I hope that I'm the type of person who cares enough to notice when someone really needs another person to simply care enough to know what's going on in their lives. But the truth is we all get preoccupied with our own lives and let's face it, it's incredibly easy to ignore that small glowing light in others that warns that things are not as great as they might appear. Though I sometimes worry that my over sharing nature might make some people uncomfortable, I know exactly what happens to me when I ignore my light for too long.
It's for this reason that I implore the stoic, the polished and perfected, and the perpetual caretakers to speak up and maybe give someone a chance to really listen beyond the "fine". Of everyone else I make this small and simple request- every once in a while stop and look around you and really take note of the silent, steady glow. There's usually a light on somewhere.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The UnREAL Reality of Normalcy
I find myself drawn to "reality" shows. I used to watch the multitude of prime time so called "reality" shows, which really just consist of a group of less than grown twenty somethings consuming large amounts of alcohol and sleeping with a lot of strangers. I must admit, most of us watch for the same reasons we slow down to survey the scene of a car wreck. You thank God it didn't happen to you or someone you know and yet for some unknown reason you feel the strong desire to know what happened to the victims and whether or not they will survive.
Will any of us ever survive these "reality" shows? Now that I'm (gulp) officially in my 30s the "booze it up, get it up" shows hold little to no interest for me anymore. There's only so much stupidity to go around and how many times can you really watch someone make a fool of themselves in exactly the same manner. What I watch now are the "unreality" shows that center around families. Call it another attempt to slow down and survey the damage, but I actually think of it as a way to view through an open window the family life of someone else to compare normalcy. We all want to feel normal, whatever the hell that means. We all want to feel like we're doing something right in our marriage, in raising our children.
So I occasionally tune in to some "unreality" shows particularly those involving large families - 19 Kids and Counting, Sister Wives and the like to figure out how the hell one survives more than a dozen kids and multiple spouses. What I get is this sugar coated attempt at normalcy, the very thing which denies my need to feel normal. I tune in because previews hint at conflicts, jealousies, potential problems, and what I get is an artificial dose of isn't my life so very normal considering I have 19 kids or 4 wives. I feel cheated by the whole experience. What viewers like me tune in for is the hope that someone will say, Good God this is fucking hard to deal with. Nobody wants to admit that marriage is hard, raising kids is hard, working, paying bills and just getting through life is hard. Everyone wants to feel normal and so we project our own normalcy onto others. We are all cheating each other.
Take me for instance, if anyone was going to show you the real deal it'd be me. I've long ago, tossed aside any attempt to fake a smile when I want to cry, pretend to be all lovey dovey with my husband when we get into a fight right before company comes over, placate a screaming child with niceties and bribes instead of pulling them out of the restaurant and waiting for the tantrum to be over - theirs or mine, whichever comes first. I wear my misery on my sleeve and my love on my shirt. I am stained through and through with the blood, sweat and tears of life and yet no one is knocking down my door offering to film my family.
I want answers just like everyone else. I want someone to show me how it's done, show me what I'm doing wrong so I can fix it all. I want to know how women voluntarily share their husband with other women and raise other people's children when I have a hard enough time getting my husband to help with chores and raising two children. How do they not feel cheated of time, attention, and help? As for the "look how well we all get along and resolve conflict" I say shut the camera off and wake me when reality calls.
How does a woman who's spent nearly every year of her adult life pregnant, nursing, and raising kids, say that she never yells? Give me a break people. To all my fellow viewers I say don't drink the cool-aide. They just want what we want, to show the world how fucking normal everything is, despite this amazingly different lifestyle they've chosen to live. I want to see the child who throws fits because she's tired of being raised by her siblings instead of her parents. I want to see the wife that wants to fly off the handle but chokes it down because he's got three other women to go to for understanding when he's upset.
I'll admit that I've thought to myself on many occasions, maybe there's something to this idea of having a wife of my own to cook and clean, and yes even take care of my husband when I'm too exhausted after taking care of two kids who haven't napped all day. That has more to do with my underlying theory that "wife" and "mother" really mean slave in some exotic language and nobody has bothered to clue me in yet. I would never, and could never share my husband with anyone, because flaws or not he's mine and if anyone is going to see through my bullshit and still show up than it's going to be him. I cannot imagine having so many children that scheduling in "one on one" time would be necessary. I feel enough guilt trying to juggle two kids and make sure they feel special and loved.
So if anyone out there in TV land is listening, wake me up when you do the show about a mom crying in a ball on the floor because she's overworked, unappreciated, and expected to carry on taking care of everyone else when she has nothing left at the end of the day for herself. I know I cannot possibly be the only mom that feels the cold stone irony of spanking a child because though you've told them a hundred times not to they still insist on standing on the table, counter or dresser and you don't want them to fall and get hurt. You know that you cannot prevent every injury, but you just do not have the energy to contend with a screaming toddler for five hours in the emergency room tonight.
Show me the wife like me who is sick to death of hearing that all the tantrums she throws in an attempt to get "help" (that is another blog post entirely) really are hurtful when I just want to say I'm attempting to make it clear that I am completely crushed by the weight of my responsibility right now and I'd really like you to just step off the dirt that's covering me, and dare I dream, grab that shovel over there and take a little of this off me right now so I can just BREATHE. If you've got any shows like that, I'll tune in faithfully, cause I know that I would love to know how she does it all correctly.
Will any of us ever survive these "reality" shows? Now that I'm (gulp) officially in my 30s the "booze it up, get it up" shows hold little to no interest for me anymore. There's only so much stupidity to go around and how many times can you really watch someone make a fool of themselves in exactly the same manner. What I watch now are the "unreality" shows that center around families. Call it another attempt to slow down and survey the damage, but I actually think of it as a way to view through an open window the family life of someone else to compare normalcy. We all want to feel normal, whatever the hell that means. We all want to feel like we're doing something right in our marriage, in raising our children.
So I occasionally tune in to some "unreality" shows particularly those involving large families - 19 Kids and Counting, Sister Wives and the like to figure out how the hell one survives more than a dozen kids and multiple spouses. What I get is this sugar coated attempt at normalcy, the very thing which denies my need to feel normal. I tune in because previews hint at conflicts, jealousies, potential problems, and what I get is an artificial dose of isn't my life so very normal considering I have 19 kids or 4 wives. I feel cheated by the whole experience. What viewers like me tune in for is the hope that someone will say, Good God this is fucking hard to deal with. Nobody wants to admit that marriage is hard, raising kids is hard, working, paying bills and just getting through life is hard. Everyone wants to feel normal and so we project our own normalcy onto others. We are all cheating each other.
Take me for instance, if anyone was going to show you the real deal it'd be me. I've long ago, tossed aside any attempt to fake a smile when I want to cry, pretend to be all lovey dovey with my husband when we get into a fight right before company comes over, placate a screaming child with niceties and bribes instead of pulling them out of the restaurant and waiting for the tantrum to be over - theirs or mine, whichever comes first. I wear my misery on my sleeve and my love on my shirt. I am stained through and through with the blood, sweat and tears of life and yet no one is knocking down my door offering to film my family.
I want answers just like everyone else. I want someone to show me how it's done, show me what I'm doing wrong so I can fix it all. I want to know how women voluntarily share their husband with other women and raise other people's children when I have a hard enough time getting my husband to help with chores and raising two children. How do they not feel cheated of time, attention, and help? As for the "look how well we all get along and resolve conflict" I say shut the camera off and wake me when reality calls.
How does a woman who's spent nearly every year of her adult life pregnant, nursing, and raising kids, say that she never yells? Give me a break people. To all my fellow viewers I say don't drink the cool-aide. They just want what we want, to show the world how fucking normal everything is, despite this amazingly different lifestyle they've chosen to live. I want to see the child who throws fits because she's tired of being raised by her siblings instead of her parents. I want to see the wife that wants to fly off the handle but chokes it down because he's got three other women to go to for understanding when he's upset.
I'll admit that I've thought to myself on many occasions, maybe there's something to this idea of having a wife of my own to cook and clean, and yes even take care of my husband when I'm too exhausted after taking care of two kids who haven't napped all day. That has more to do with my underlying theory that "wife" and "mother" really mean slave in some exotic language and nobody has bothered to clue me in yet. I would never, and could never share my husband with anyone, because flaws or not he's mine and if anyone is going to see through my bullshit and still show up than it's going to be him. I cannot imagine having so many children that scheduling in "one on one" time would be necessary. I feel enough guilt trying to juggle two kids and make sure they feel special and loved.
So if anyone out there in TV land is listening, wake me up when you do the show about a mom crying in a ball on the floor because she's overworked, unappreciated, and expected to carry on taking care of everyone else when she has nothing left at the end of the day for herself. I know I cannot possibly be the only mom that feels the cold stone irony of spanking a child because though you've told them a hundred times not to they still insist on standing on the table, counter or dresser and you don't want them to fall and get hurt. You know that you cannot prevent every injury, but you just do not have the energy to contend with a screaming toddler for five hours in the emergency room tonight.
Show me the wife like me who is sick to death of hearing that all the tantrums she throws in an attempt to get "help" (that is another blog post entirely) really are hurtful when I just want to say I'm attempting to make it clear that I am completely crushed by the weight of my responsibility right now and I'd really like you to just step off the dirt that's covering me, and dare I dream, grab that shovel over there and take a little of this off me right now so I can just BREATHE. If you've got any shows like that, I'll tune in faithfully, cause I know that I would love to know how she does it all correctly.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Redefining Happiness
Ask any mom if they were happy before they had children and I'll bet they say yes. They had freedom, energy, creativity, and their youth was on their side. A few days before my daughter turned four, my mother said to me, "How is it possible that just four years ago you had no children?" That was a lifetime ago I thought. Four years, two kids ago I considered myself to be happy. I was a newly-wed, coping with being a cash poor home owner.
I was happy at the time. But from the moment my first child was born, I decided that happiness was a moving target and in fact, I didn't know just what my capacity for happiness was until I looked into the eyes of this tiny person that I had created. It's safe to say that I had no idea just what I was capable of until I had children.
I never knew just how much I could love another person. Despite losing my dad at a painfully young age, I didn't know until I became a mom just how much I stood to lose in this world. It is that ever painful reminder, that gaping hole that losing a parent creates in ones life, that reminds me nearly every second just what can be lost, without warning and without any regard for what I consider fair. It's the grindstone my emotions are constantly sharpened against. It's the reality we all know but seldom acknowledge, filtering in with painful clarity when a little blurriness is actually necessary to get through the every day routine of life.
When I was in high school, friends would ask me why I was single. That was the high school equivalent of being unhappy. The truth was that I never really cared to be in a relationship. I actually prefered to watch the high school melodrama unfold from the sidelines instead being caught in the web of adolescent romance whose rules and affections moved and changed with a swift breeze. Then in college, while wallowing in homesickness I did something I had never done before. I gave my number and a chance to a boy I had never seen before and didn't know at all. I don't think I could have imagined at 19 that he would be it - my whole notion of love and trust and the model relationship I never saw growing up.
Falling in love with my husband was to that point in my life, the single scariest thing I had ever experienced. It forced me to let go, be out of control, give someone this power over my happiness that I had somehow imagined to be the gesture of a weak person who didn't really think that they alone were all they needed to be happy. Falling in love turned out to be the mirror that I always wished I had. My husband allowed me to see in myself the person I always wished I was, the person I had been all along.
Tonight while driving home, I looked at my kids faces in the rear view mirror and I thought about how everything I believed about happiness now centers around them. They made me realize that I will do whatever it takes to spend as much time with them as I can because they define happiness for me now. The fact that Hannah and Jayden love me, depend on me, and because at this moment in time I can safely say that their happiness depends on me, I have defined happiness as being worthy of them. I owe it to them to pursue my dreams with passion because I have spent too much of my life thinking I didn't deserve to have all my dreams come true. I think that despite all my fears that my imperfections as a mother will somehow change them in a negative way, I know that I am one of the only people on this Earth that gets to make them smile and be the mirror that they need in order to see the amazing people that they are.
Being a mom has made it pretty clear to me, this one amazing truth, that happiness is not something I have the luxury of hoping will happen. I must make it happen.
I was happy at the time. But from the moment my first child was born, I decided that happiness was a moving target and in fact, I didn't know just what my capacity for happiness was until I looked into the eyes of this tiny person that I had created. It's safe to say that I had no idea just what I was capable of until I had children.
I never knew just how much I could love another person. Despite losing my dad at a painfully young age, I didn't know until I became a mom just how much I stood to lose in this world. It is that ever painful reminder, that gaping hole that losing a parent creates in ones life, that reminds me nearly every second just what can be lost, without warning and without any regard for what I consider fair. It's the grindstone my emotions are constantly sharpened against. It's the reality we all know but seldom acknowledge, filtering in with painful clarity when a little blurriness is actually necessary to get through the every day routine of life.
When I was in high school, friends would ask me why I was single. That was the high school equivalent of being unhappy. The truth was that I never really cared to be in a relationship. I actually prefered to watch the high school melodrama unfold from the sidelines instead being caught in the web of adolescent romance whose rules and affections moved and changed with a swift breeze. Then in college, while wallowing in homesickness I did something I had never done before. I gave my number and a chance to a boy I had never seen before and didn't know at all. I don't think I could have imagined at 19 that he would be it - my whole notion of love and trust and the model relationship I never saw growing up.
Falling in love with my husband was to that point in my life, the single scariest thing I had ever experienced. It forced me to let go, be out of control, give someone this power over my happiness that I had somehow imagined to be the gesture of a weak person who didn't really think that they alone were all they needed to be happy. Falling in love turned out to be the mirror that I always wished I had. My husband allowed me to see in myself the person I always wished I was, the person I had been all along.
Tonight while driving home, I looked at my kids faces in the rear view mirror and I thought about how everything I believed about happiness now centers around them. They made me realize that I will do whatever it takes to spend as much time with them as I can because they define happiness for me now. The fact that Hannah and Jayden love me, depend on me, and because at this moment in time I can safely say that their happiness depends on me, I have defined happiness as being worthy of them. I owe it to them to pursue my dreams with passion because I have spent too much of my life thinking I didn't deserve to have all my dreams come true. I think that despite all my fears that my imperfections as a mother will somehow change them in a negative way, I know that I am one of the only people on this Earth that gets to make them smile and be the mirror that they need in order to see the amazing people that they are.
Being a mom has made it pretty clear to me, this one amazing truth, that happiness is not something I have the luxury of hoping will happen. I must make it happen.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Top 10 Things Kids Do Better Than Grown Ups
I'm feeling a bit frustrated by the adult world at the moment so I've decided to compile a list of what kids do better than us adults. I'm speaking primarily of toddlers and preschoolers for this particular post. Maybe we can all take a lesson or two from them.
1. Their shit may stink, but at least it's easy to clean up. Well for the most part anyway. Unlike the shit adults deal with which never seems to go away.
2. Their games are always intended to be fun. Unlike the games adults play to manipulate other adults into doing what they want.
3. They say what they mean. Even when they don't quite have the verbal skills to express it precisely, there is very little guessing at their intentions. Even when you must litterally guess, you only have to go through the list of basic neccessities to figure it out: food, sleep, drink, medical attention, entertainment.
4. They do not have to hold back their love. It's full on, whole heart, no need for all or nothing because it's always ALL their love.
5. They do not worry about abstract problems that don't exist in real time or affect them directly. They do not wonder what the world would be like if animal crackers did not exist or what would happen to their poop if potties had not been invented.
6. They take true JOY in life. A walk in the park, a favorite story, cuddling on the couch with mommy, playing with a friend, bathing in our birthday cake icing. NOBODY enjoys life's simple pleasures like a child.
7. While they may feel possessive about a toy, they eventually remember there are many other toys to play with. I watched my daughter and nephew have a blast playing with clothes pins the other day. Fun is wherever you are, because you make it yourself. Adults hold tight to their possessions as an outward symbol of their status in this world, but you know what they say "you can't take it with you..."
8. They do not yet feel compelled to fit ALL that they are into the small box the world intends to stuff you into. Cowboy boots with a ballerina tutu, sure looks great.
9. They have no FEAR of failure. They simply do or don't do things, but they don't worry about potentially doing something wrong, sometimes to the extreme of being paralyzed into doing nothing at all.
10. The BEST thing kids do better than adults, they REMIND US on a daily basis, that once upon a time WE WERE THE BEST VERSION OF OURSELVES, long before we became self-involved, fear driven, jaded, and apethetic. THEY ARE THE BEST PART OF US.
The saying goes, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." BUT maybe if we wise up one day, we can UNLEARN all the NEW BAD HABITS, look to our children and find the inspiration to be BETTER, do BETTER...Find happiness in every moment life is willing to offer up...because NONE of know when that offer is going to be taken off the table.
Got a reason not on the list, please share it.
1. Their shit may stink, but at least it's easy to clean up. Well for the most part anyway. Unlike the shit adults deal with which never seems to go away.
2. Their games are always intended to be fun. Unlike the games adults play to manipulate other adults into doing what they want.
3. They say what they mean. Even when they don't quite have the verbal skills to express it precisely, there is very little guessing at their intentions. Even when you must litterally guess, you only have to go through the list of basic neccessities to figure it out: food, sleep, drink, medical attention, entertainment.
4. They do not have to hold back their love. It's full on, whole heart, no need for all or nothing because it's always ALL their love.
5. They do not worry about abstract problems that don't exist in real time or affect them directly. They do not wonder what the world would be like if animal crackers did not exist or what would happen to their poop if potties had not been invented.
6. They take true JOY in life. A walk in the park, a favorite story, cuddling on the couch with mommy, playing with a friend, bathing in our birthday cake icing. NOBODY enjoys life's simple pleasures like a child.
7. While they may feel possessive about a toy, they eventually remember there are many other toys to play with. I watched my daughter and nephew have a blast playing with clothes pins the other day. Fun is wherever you are, because you make it yourself. Adults hold tight to their possessions as an outward symbol of their status in this world, but you know what they say "you can't take it with you..."
8. They do not yet feel compelled to fit ALL that they are into the small box the world intends to stuff you into. Cowboy boots with a ballerina tutu, sure looks great.
9. They have no FEAR of failure. They simply do or don't do things, but they don't worry about potentially doing something wrong, sometimes to the extreme of being paralyzed into doing nothing at all.
10. The BEST thing kids do better than adults, they REMIND US on a daily basis, that once upon a time WE WERE THE BEST VERSION OF OURSELVES, long before we became self-involved, fear driven, jaded, and apethetic. THEY ARE THE BEST PART OF US.
The saying goes, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." BUT maybe if we wise up one day, we can UNLEARN all the NEW BAD HABITS, look to our children and find the inspiration to be BETTER, do BETTER...Find happiness in every moment life is willing to offer up...because NONE of know when that offer is going to be taken off the table.
Got a reason not on the list, please share it.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Difference Between Broke and Broken
Ok, so I pride myself on being frugal and money is always tight, but this week I've hit a new low. I had a negative balance in my checking account, zero in my savings, and bout two more weeks to live on what...air and love till pay day. I try to tell myself that my new low is for some people, their every day and I wonder how they do it. I know I can use my credit card till my next pay check even though the very thought of it makes my stomach queasy. Chalk it up to my unexpected car accident in March, which thankfully only took my car out of commission. Now I had the expense of getting another used car, and doing all the running around for the last week, taking my husband to work, dropping the kids off at my mom's, taking my step dad to work, running errands. Let's just say it cost me a pretty penny in gas.
It's sooo freaking easy to feel stressed, scared, and even hopeless at times. I have been crabby with my family because of the stress and I hate that because they are truly the only thing that get my through these tough times. As my oh so eloquent husband puts it - "I simply need more to focus on in my life than him so that I don't take all my stress out on him." It's a bit rough, but that's my husband. We are exactly ourselves with each other, on good days and bad, like it or not. There has to be a buffer between life's emergencies, tragedies, stresses, and losses and that buffer is family. Through their eyes we filter out the bad things and instead see the hope that lies beyond everything else. I guess we just need to remember to clean the filter every so often otherwise people's feelings get stuck in the grime of life.
So as I'm clipping coupons, thinking about side jobs, and reluctantly re-evaluating future plans, I think about what it is that keeps being broke from making one feel so.... well broken. It has got to be family. There is nothing else that can pull me out of my own head like taking care of my two little ones and of course my husband. He keeps his worries close to the vest, not on his sleeve like me. Gotta be especially wary of that. I just try to give what I can. Right now that doesn't include much of anything that can be bought. I have to hope that love and perseverance is enough to make it two more weeks, another year, ten years - one hurdle at a time, one step at a time, one filter change at a time.
It's sooo freaking easy to feel stressed, scared, and even hopeless at times. I have been crabby with my family because of the stress and I hate that because they are truly the only thing that get my through these tough times. As my oh so eloquent husband puts it - "I simply need more to focus on in my life than him so that I don't take all my stress out on him." It's a bit rough, but that's my husband. We are exactly ourselves with each other, on good days and bad, like it or not. There has to be a buffer between life's emergencies, tragedies, stresses, and losses and that buffer is family. Through their eyes we filter out the bad things and instead see the hope that lies beyond everything else. I guess we just need to remember to clean the filter every so often otherwise people's feelings get stuck in the grime of life.
So as I'm clipping coupons, thinking about side jobs, and reluctantly re-evaluating future plans, I think about what it is that keeps being broke from making one feel so.... well broken. It has got to be family. There is nothing else that can pull me out of my own head like taking care of my two little ones and of course my husband. He keeps his worries close to the vest, not on his sleeve like me. Gotta be especially wary of that. I just try to give what I can. Right now that doesn't include much of anything that can be bought. I have to hope that love and perseverance is enough to make it two more weeks, another year, ten years - one hurdle at a time, one step at a time, one filter change at a time.
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