I haven't been able to put anything down in words lately that would be share-appropriate.
Despite the large elephant in the room, I am making a conscious decision to not dwell on the drastic change going on in my life right now, nor the circumstances and reasons behind it. Call it a form of denial... call it not being ready... call it what you may. It's all just... words.
But words have power. At least, in my life they always have.
I was challenged to try and harness the power of those words. Use them for good. Positivity. Self acceptance. Etc. Etc. Words. Words.
So, here goes.
I was challenged to once a day write a nice note to me, from me. That hasn't been easy. I am cheating a little and in order to get me 'warmed up' so to speak, I am going to write a nice note to someone who I feel deserves it. Then, maybe a little side note to this woman Nicole who, frankly, is kindof a mess.
It's very easy to be sympathetic towards others and frustrated at ourselves. I guess the hope is that by sharing kind words about other people and forcing myself to say kind words about myself, perhaps I'll start to believe them and be kinder to myself. Permeation, anyone?
So, here goes.
Dear Kristi,
I know. Surprise, right? I know I can be a terrible friend - not calling you back, not answering your calls, not texting you, not being reliable - that's a lot of nots. But on the list of people that I need to say kind things to, you're top of the list.
I am truly grateful for the unconditional love and support you've given me over the years. You've been with me through all of my (sadly) continuous and cyclical relationships - meet new guy, fall for said new guy, relationship with new guy, problems with new guy, staying with new guy regardless of problems even when normal person would have packed up and left, and the inevitable break up with new guy. I sure can pick 'em, can't I?
You're the most devoted friend I have and the most loyal person I know.
You've come so far in life. I'm so proud of you in how you truly are being the best mother you can be to your beautiful kids. You're giving them so much that you (arguably) never had. They will thank you for that and it is noticed by people around you. I don't say it enough. You've been an example to me for casting off toxic people, even IF they happen to be 'stuck' to you by being family.
You're a courageous, strong, kind, selfless, tell-it-like-it-is kindof woman.
Thank you for sticking by me and seeing the good friend in me even when I can't see it.
Love you long time, lady.
Love,
Nicole.
.... crickets are chirping. This is really hard. I kept typing dumbass beginnings to a letter of kindness to myself.... like some of the following:
"Dear Nicole, you have nice eyes...."
"Dear Nicole, your legs are both in working order..."
"Dear Nicole, your children are fantastic!"
"Dear Nicole, your dedication in having a yearly break down in astounding..."
"Dear Nicole, good job on picking, yet again, the worst possible candidates for marriage."
They all start out with good intentions but all end in the usual self deprecating text.
However, with most things, Eva has helped me out. She daily gives me a lens to view myself in a positive way. The other night, in her innocent and beautiful way, she thanked me for 'keeping the house from falling into a frenzy' (yep, verbatim) despite everything I had going on in life. She is so kind. I can do this for her.
So, here goes.
Dear Nicole,
Some may call it stubbornness, but I appreciate your tenacity in trying to stay put and build your own home for your children. They will/do thank you for that. That, despite being in tumult once again, you are trying to keep a sense of normalcy to your childrens' lives. Breakfast. School. Daycare. Play dates. Bike rides. Home dinners. Shows on Mama's bed. Messy bathtime. Snuggles and storytime. Their own beds. Their own safe haven. A place to call theirs.
Good job. Keep doing that.
Cheers,
Nicole.
Tuesday, June 6, 2017
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Santa is a fraud....in my house.
Okay, think of it this way guys. The past few blog posts have been getting you to LIKE me. Fairly easy to digest material, nothing too wacky or controversial. Heart warming stuff. Well guess what, the honeymoon is over folks cuz I'm about to lay a doozy on y'all.
Ready?
Here's why I teach my daughter that Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and all the rest of the gang are fake.
Yes, fake. You read it right. Not real. As in, Eva knows that when the 'tooth fairy' leaves her coins under her pillow - yup, that was Mommy.
P.S. This happened tonight (and inspired this post) and I just LOVE when Eva looses a tooth. I don't know who is more excited about it - her or me.
Now before you go all crazy on me and insist that I am the stealer of imagination, killer of dreams and murderer of all things precious in my kids' childhoods - - just hear me out. I do have a few reasons which I will outline now, quickly, before you all end up unfriending me and covering your children's ears and eyes when you pass me at the store.
1. I won't lie to my kids. Sorry. That one pisses people off sometimes. Naturally, no one is intentionally lying to their kids when they tell them Santa REALLY comes down the chimney and leaves presents - but, in my books, it's a tad hypocritical. I can't very well teach Eva that lies are wrong - even white ones, even ones where you are trying to spare someone's feelings - and then turn out to be lying to spare hers ALL ALONG.
"Awww... but you're stealing the magic!!" No. Just. No. I hate when people tell me that. This was not a decision I made through laziness nor spite. I LOVE the holidays. I LOVE imagination. Santa still visits our house; as does the Easter Bunny and Elf on the Shelf and the Tooth Fairy. BUUUUUT... here's the clincher. They visit us but Eva knows that it's really me. Ruin the magic, does it? Lessens the fun, huh?
So you're saying Christmas Eve we get into our jammies, read The Night Before Christmas, bake cookies and leave them out with milk, leave out carrots for the reindeer, Eva FINALLY falls asleep after giggling and singing and talking and altogether keeping herself awake for hours our of sheer excitement - then, the second that first sun beam kisses her brow and she jets out of bed to look at all the amazing presents wrapped under the tree in their paper wrapped, bow adorned glory - you're telling me that she will sigh and say, "Whatever. Those are just from you, Mom and Dad. Lame."
??
It's just not true. You can have all the magic of Christmas and holidays without the literality of it. A man doesn't LITERALLY need to come down your chimney for Santa to be magical. A winged fairy doesn't LITERALLY need to be flying through your window at night to give you coins for teeth (which, in fact, if you think about it? Creepy much?) A bunny doesn't LITERALLY need to poop out candy. Make believe is still fun without being 100%, entirely, without a doubt convincing. When we play dress up, I don't suddenly have a Doctorate and if someone had a heart attack Eva wouldn't believe that I magically had the skills to save them. That doesn't make playing Doctor any less fun!
Think of it this way. This is how I explained it to Eva: She was 3. A very precocious 3 year old, mind you; which is where all this started. I knew I had little time before she figured out everything - her little toddler eyes peered into my very soul.... What with our family situation being as it was, I couldn't fabricate a father for her out of thin air, nor have the heart (or blind stupidity) to fabricate a story about why that was false. I decided to tell her the truth (as much of the truth as a 3 year old can stomach, I'm not cruel, peeps, promise). I needed a plan. She loved Dora. After we finished watching an episode of Dora, I ventured this to her:
"Oh, Eva. I sure love watching Dora with you. But... do you think, maybe, Dora would ever come to our house?"
She looked up at my inquisitively, her gears turning.
"Like, in real life. Is Dora going to come to our house?"
Pondering.
"What do YOU think?"
A big smile. "No, Mommy! That's silly. She's on t.v."
And so began the foundation of teaching her that Santa and his team are illusory. Does knowing that Dora isn't going to come knocking on our door make the show any less fun to watch? Alternatively, does believing that Dora REALLY is ALIVE and is out there somewhere with a talking pet monkey and friends make Dora better? (honestly, I don't think ANYTHING can make Dora good, but c'mon, we're talking at a 3 year olds level here...)
Also, I'd like to point out one other thing: I did NOT just up and say, "Hehehe you dumb little kid Santa isn't real mwhahahahahaHA!" There were no tears. No anger. No outward TELLING her, really. Like most things, I posed a thought or two to Eva and let HER brain do the work. If she can't get there on her own, SHE'S NOT READY. Her brain's not ready. It's that simple. No use pounding a screw in with a hammer.
2. I don't like the idea of Santa's lists. Again, sorry. I realize that some people LOVE Christmas time so they can drop a 'You don't want to be on the naughty list, do you??' to their kids every time an argument breaks out, but I just really don't agree with that style of parenting. I want my kids to WANT to be good because it's the right thing to do, not because they will get a barrage of gifts from a strange, fat man on Christmas morn. Payouts for good behavior? Not in my house.
3. Also, any and ALL of these pictures. Seriously. If your kid doesn't want to sit on Santa's knee - please, for the love of PB&J, stop FORCING it. Not to mention that I've never liked sitting on a strangers knee - not when I was a kid and certainly not for my own kid. If it's someone I know, fine, but we avoid mall Santas like the PLAGUE.
3. Insert paranoid-conspiracy-theory-esque-reason-about-Coca-Cola-and-corporate-money-making-schemes. Sorry guys. I believe it. I don't like it. I don't subscribe to it.
5. I like to believe my kids are smart. She's gonna figure it out soon anyway. Darn kid asks way too many deep questions already. She's the FIRST person to correct me when I'm wrong - last thing I need to do is give that smart alec more ammunition. The last thing I want is to have a 10 year old, figuring it out on her own, while I desperately try to cover my tracks so she doesn't 'find me out!'
4. Did I already mention it's hypocritical? I just don't get why we insist on teaching stranger danger and safety (we do live in a messed up world, peeps) and then romanticize once a year where a man LITERALLY COMES INTO YOUR HOUSE AND LEAVES YOU STUFF. And you take it all and open it all and eat it all and use it all and want more next year. Just cuz he watches you and you were good and all. Big brother, much? It's past 1984, guys...
Okay, I realize this has become a rant about Santa. But ALL the corporate mascots apply - Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and all. Why do they deserve the credit? Sheesh. I paid for those gifts. I made those treats. I stayed up until midnight and wrote that note and crept silently into your room and under your pillow, cat stealth style, without waking you up. I was the bomb. I deserve the credit. (Selfish, much?)
Now, I realize a lot of people's hesitancy also lies in the fact is the last thing we want is for our kid to ruin the magic for another kid at school. I HEAR THAT. Talk about my worst fear imaginable. The thought of Eva saying 'Santa isn't real' to another kid would give me chills. I needed her to understand that other kids literally believed in him and why. She needed to have the maturity to understand that and to know ruining that for them would be a terrible thing. So, I waited until she was ready. She's 7 now and she would never DREAM of saying anything to anyone about it.
For example: A few Christmases (Christmasi?) ago, Dallin's dad dressed up as Santa and showed up on our step. It was MAGICAL; even for me and I'm a grown woman! We were eating dinner, snow was falling. Suddenly we heard the faint jingle of bells.
jingle-jingle-jangle
We continue with our meal.
jingle-jingle-jangle - "ho-ho-ho!"
Our ears perk up. Looking back and forth to each other, wondering what on earth that was.
Louder:
"Ho! Ho! Ho!"
Eva's eyes are wide. Mine are wider. Dallin - well, he knew what the heck was going on the bum, so, he just rolled his eyes.
We glance out the window and through the blanket of snow we see a red-suited form making its' way through our backyard with a large sack flung on its' bag. I'm pretty sure I squealed. Eva probably just said, "What the heck is going on?!!"
We fling open the door. Santa emerges. In a flurry of "ho-ho-ho's" and snow swirling and dancing like glitter in our entry - hugs all around. Fast forward. Eva sits atop Santa's knee. They have their usual Santa-child discussion. She is beaming. She gets a gift. We all do. More hugs. Santa leaves.
As soon as the door closes, we hug more. The excitement is palpable for Eva and I - Dallin, meh. Not so much. Dummy.... But soon, Eva is soon heard to inquire, "Now, Mommy, is it safe to ask.... like, was that.. I dunno... Papa Lo?"
Dallin and I laugh. We ask her what she thinks.
"Well, yeah, I guess. I mean. He sounded like him. He kinda smelled like him. I think it was."
We confirm.
She beams all the more, "Ohman! I love him so much - he must really love me to do that for me!"
It brings tears to my eyes even thinking of it now. Hands down, that was one of the most magical and beautiful Christmas moments I have ever shared. I am so lucky to be able to have moments like that. And I'm so happy my daughter knows who exactly gave her that beautiful moment. I witnessed the love she had for her Papa Lo and Nana Jo grow exponentially - the thought that they would drive all that way to us (from Edmonton) and bring gifts and dress up was just unfathomable to her. It taught her a huge lesson about selflessness. Because that's what it should be about! I'm not saying for a second that Santa shouldn't BE - absolutely not! I enjoyed the heck out of that surprise Santa visit - Logan is Da Bomb at Secret Santa visits - and that should never cease. Like I've mentioned before, it's the literality of it all that gets me.
To end this altogether too long rant on Santa, I'd like to say that this is MY way of parenting that I've pored over, thought about and decided upon. It is NOT for everyone. It's an equation that works for my families happiness; it may not work for you. In other words, take all of this post spewage with a grain of salt. I don't think kids who believe in Santa are dumb, nor do I think their parents foolish or lazy. It takes more than one way to make the world go round.
I won't judge your equation for happiness, if you won't judge mine.
Ready?
Here's why I teach my daughter that Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and all the rest of the gang are fake.
Yes, fake. You read it right. Not real. As in, Eva knows that when the 'tooth fairy' leaves her coins under her pillow - yup, that was Mommy.
P.S. This happened tonight (and inspired this post) and I just LOVE when Eva looses a tooth. I don't know who is more excited about it - her or me.
Now before you go all crazy on me and insist that I am the stealer of imagination, killer of dreams and murderer of all things precious in my kids' childhoods - - just hear me out. I do have a few reasons which I will outline now, quickly, before you all end up unfriending me and covering your children's ears and eyes when you pass me at the store.
1. I won't lie to my kids. Sorry. That one pisses people off sometimes. Naturally, no one is intentionally lying to their kids when they tell them Santa REALLY comes down the chimney and leaves presents - but, in my books, it's a tad hypocritical. I can't very well teach Eva that lies are wrong - even white ones, even ones where you are trying to spare someone's feelings - and then turn out to be lying to spare hers ALL ALONG.
"Awww... but you're stealing the magic!!" No. Just. No. I hate when people tell me that. This was not a decision I made through laziness nor spite. I LOVE the holidays. I LOVE imagination. Santa still visits our house; as does the Easter Bunny and Elf on the Shelf and the Tooth Fairy. BUUUUUT... here's the clincher. They visit us but Eva knows that it's really me. Ruin the magic, does it? Lessens the fun, huh?
So you're saying Christmas Eve we get into our jammies, read The Night Before Christmas, bake cookies and leave them out with milk, leave out carrots for the reindeer, Eva FINALLY falls asleep after giggling and singing and talking and altogether keeping herself awake for hours our of sheer excitement - then, the second that first sun beam kisses her brow and she jets out of bed to look at all the amazing presents wrapped under the tree in their paper wrapped, bow adorned glory - you're telling me that she will sigh and say, "Whatever. Those are just from you, Mom and Dad. Lame."
??
It's just not true. You can have all the magic of Christmas and holidays without the literality of it. A man doesn't LITERALLY need to come down your chimney for Santa to be magical. A winged fairy doesn't LITERALLY need to be flying through your window at night to give you coins for teeth (which, in fact, if you think about it? Creepy much?) A bunny doesn't LITERALLY need to poop out candy. Make believe is still fun without being 100%, entirely, without a doubt convincing. When we play dress up, I don't suddenly have a Doctorate and if someone had a heart attack Eva wouldn't believe that I magically had the skills to save them. That doesn't make playing Doctor any less fun!
Think of it this way. This is how I explained it to Eva: She was 3. A very precocious 3 year old, mind you; which is where all this started. I knew I had little time before she figured out everything - her little toddler eyes peered into my very soul.... What with our family situation being as it was, I couldn't fabricate a father for her out of thin air, nor have the heart (or blind stupidity) to fabricate a story about why that was false. I decided to tell her the truth (as much of the truth as a 3 year old can stomach, I'm not cruel, peeps, promise). I needed a plan. She loved Dora. After we finished watching an episode of Dora, I ventured this to her:
"Oh, Eva. I sure love watching Dora with you. But... do you think, maybe, Dora would ever come to our house?"
She looked up at my inquisitively, her gears turning.
"Like, in real life. Is Dora going to come to our house?"
Pondering.
"What do YOU think?"
A big smile. "No, Mommy! That's silly. She's on t.v."
And so began the foundation of teaching her that Santa and his team are illusory. Does knowing that Dora isn't going to come knocking on our door make the show any less fun to watch? Alternatively, does believing that Dora REALLY is ALIVE and is out there somewhere with a talking pet monkey and friends make Dora better? (honestly, I don't think ANYTHING can make Dora good, but c'mon, we're talking at a 3 year olds level here...)
Also, I'd like to point out one other thing: I did NOT just up and say, "Hehehe you dumb little kid Santa isn't real mwhahahahahaHA!" There were no tears. No anger. No outward TELLING her, really. Like most things, I posed a thought or two to Eva and let HER brain do the work. If she can't get there on her own, SHE'S NOT READY. Her brain's not ready. It's that simple. No use pounding a screw in with a hammer.
2. I don't like the idea of Santa's lists. Again, sorry. I realize that some people LOVE Christmas time so they can drop a 'You don't want to be on the naughty list, do you??' to their kids every time an argument breaks out, but I just really don't agree with that style of parenting. I want my kids to WANT to be good because it's the right thing to do, not because they will get a barrage of gifts from a strange, fat man on Christmas morn. Payouts for good behavior? Not in my house.
3. Also, any and ALL of these pictures. Seriously. If your kid doesn't want to sit on Santa's knee - please, for the love of PB&J, stop FORCING it. Not to mention that I've never liked sitting on a strangers knee - not when I was a kid and certainly not for my own kid. If it's someone I know, fine, but we avoid mall Santas like the PLAGUE.
Okay, I also admit that sometimes this is just plain hilarity... but... also... kinda sad.
3. Insert paranoid-conspiracy-theory-esque-reason-about-Coca-Cola-and-corporate-money-making-schemes. Sorry guys. I believe it. I don't like it. I don't subscribe to it.
5. I like to believe my kids are smart. She's gonna figure it out soon anyway. Darn kid asks way too many deep questions already. She's the FIRST person to correct me when I'm wrong - last thing I need to do is give that smart alec more ammunition. The last thing I want is to have a 10 year old, figuring it out on her own, while I desperately try to cover my tracks so she doesn't 'find me out!'
4. Did I already mention it's hypocritical? I just don't get why we insist on teaching stranger danger and safety (we do live in a messed up world, peeps) and then romanticize once a year where a man LITERALLY COMES INTO YOUR HOUSE AND LEAVES YOU STUFF. And you take it all and open it all and eat it all and use it all and want more next year. Just cuz he watches you and you were good and all. Big brother, much? It's past 1984, guys...
Okay, I realize this has become a rant about Santa. But ALL the corporate mascots apply - Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and all. Why do they deserve the credit? Sheesh. I paid for those gifts. I made those treats. I stayed up until midnight and wrote that note and crept silently into your room and under your pillow, cat stealth style, without waking you up. I was the bomb. I deserve the credit. (Selfish, much?)
Now, I realize a lot of people's hesitancy also lies in the fact is the last thing we want is for our kid to ruin the magic for another kid at school. I HEAR THAT. Talk about my worst fear imaginable. The thought of Eva saying 'Santa isn't real' to another kid would give me chills. I needed her to understand that other kids literally believed in him and why. She needed to have the maturity to understand that and to know ruining that for them would be a terrible thing. So, I waited until she was ready. She's 7 now and she would never DREAM of saying anything to anyone about it.
For example: A few Christmases (Christmasi?) ago, Dallin's dad dressed up as Santa and showed up on our step. It was MAGICAL; even for me and I'm a grown woman! We were eating dinner, snow was falling. Suddenly we heard the faint jingle of bells.
jingle-jingle-jangle
We continue with our meal.
jingle-jingle-jangle - "ho-ho-ho!"
Our ears perk up. Looking back and forth to each other, wondering what on earth that was.
Louder:
"Ho! Ho! Ho!"
Eva's eyes are wide. Mine are wider. Dallin - well, he knew what the heck was going on the bum, so, he just rolled his eyes.
We glance out the window and through the blanket of snow we see a red-suited form making its' way through our backyard with a large sack flung on its' bag. I'm pretty sure I squealed. Eva probably just said, "What the heck is going on?!!"
We fling open the door. Santa emerges. In a flurry of "ho-ho-ho's" and snow swirling and dancing like glitter in our entry - hugs all around. Fast forward. Eva sits atop Santa's knee. They have their usual Santa-child discussion. She is beaming. She gets a gift. We all do. More hugs. Santa leaves.
As soon as the door closes, we hug more. The excitement is palpable for Eva and I - Dallin, meh. Not so much. Dummy.... But soon, Eva is soon heard to inquire, "Now, Mommy, is it safe to ask.... like, was that.. I dunno... Papa Lo?"
Dallin and I laugh. We ask her what she thinks.
"Well, yeah, I guess. I mean. He sounded like him. He kinda smelled like him. I think it was."
We confirm.
She beams all the more, "Ohman! I love him so much - he must really love me to do that for me!"
It brings tears to my eyes even thinking of it now. Hands down, that was one of the most magical and beautiful Christmas moments I have ever shared. I am so lucky to be able to have moments like that. And I'm so happy my daughter knows who exactly gave her that beautiful moment. I witnessed the love she had for her Papa Lo and Nana Jo grow exponentially - the thought that they would drive all that way to us (from Edmonton) and bring gifts and dress up was just unfathomable to her. It taught her a huge lesson about selflessness. Because that's what it should be about! I'm not saying for a second that Santa shouldn't BE - absolutely not! I enjoyed the heck out of that surprise Santa visit - Logan is Da Bomb at Secret Santa visits - and that should never cease. Like I've mentioned before, it's the literality of it all that gets me.
To end this altogether too long rant on Santa, I'd like to say that this is MY way of parenting that I've pored over, thought about and decided upon. It is NOT for everyone. It's an equation that works for my families happiness; it may not work for you. In other words, take all of this post spewage with a grain of salt. I don't think kids who believe in Santa are dumb, nor do I think their parents foolish or lazy. It takes more than one way to make the world go round.
I won't judge your equation for happiness, if you won't judge mine.
Saturday, May 7, 2016
Here's Why Mothers are DA BOMB
Here's the thing.
My last post was all but shining a massive spot light on fatherhood - Dallin, in particular - and deep down it was all in preparation for me to unveil a scary truth about myself.
I'm unsure why it's so much easier to bloggity blog but for some reason, the typed word feels so much safer than trying to spill my guts to friends or family on the phone or in person. Maybe it's because I can get all my thoughts out in a steady stream of sense; instead of the incomprehensible sewage that sometimes spews out of my mouth in attempts to get my point across verbally... Ahh... To have a verbal delete button....if only... Or perhaps it's because I can read the comments - good or bad - from the security of my home and click the ol' DELETE button if it contains any jabbing, hurtful replies. I wish we could do that in real life... When someone begins to say something insensitive or narrow minded or just plain stupid - we could just - nope - DELETE. Smack their forehead, V8 slap style. Alas... 'Tis not to be...
I digress.
Here's the thing.
On the eve of Mother's Day, (timing, anyone?) I am posting on my struggle with motherhood.
DON'T get me wrong. I love my kids. I love my family. More than anything. Also, please keep in mind this is coming from a place where the past two weeks have been hellish for poor Remington - sick with stomach flu, ear infection, raging fever and on his second bout of antibiotics - and as a result I have had the neediest imp of a baby clung to me, koala bear style, for two weeks. I'm NOT saying my love for him has a limit but... I am EXHAUSTED.
He was eating dirt today at the dog park today... And I KNEW I should be a good mom and make him stop and endure his whining and distract his attention on something else and calm him and soothe him and give him a toy and be a good parent and I DID - I'd like to put strong emphasis that I DIDN'T LET MY SON EAT DIRT - for too long. But I had a moment where I looked at him and thought, "Oh gee, he's doing this now? Seriously. Gross.. but....eh. He's not crying....I'll take it." And I just enjoyed the few minutes of peace. I DID, OKAY? I JUST ENJOYED THE PEACEFUL MOMENT WHILE MY SON ATE DIRT NO DOUBT LACED WITH DOG POOP SO JUST GO AHEAD AND JUDGE ME, YOU, OUT THERE, SITTING BEHIND YOUR COMPUTER, OKAY???!!
I just am reaching a point where I don't want to mom anymore. Just for a bit. A day. Maybe two. That's it! I love my kids but can someone take over for a bit? And that is another reason why I'm so grateful for Dallin and being in a partnership - I CAN do that now and it is wonderful. I'm sure many mothers out there have felt the same. PLEASE tell me you've felt the same. What do you do? How do you deal with it?
To date, I've tried:
Bottling it up.
Screaming into a pillow.
Locking myself in the bathroom with the fan on to drown out the knocking and whining.
Smiling like a crazy person to force myself into believing I LOVE THIS SO BAD.
Reading inspiring stories from other families.
Keeping busy with project after project after project.
Running for the hills when Dallin comes home. "Hi honey, I'm so glad you're home oh look we're out of milk and eggs and uh, kidney beans and we really need them so I'm just going to run to the store -NO! -No! I'll go. It's ok. Seriously I'LL GO."
I watched a well intentioned viral video about motherhood where a mom is shown sitting on the couch with her head in her hands, crying, exhausted, and her youngest son comes up to her, hands her a piece of paper with a drawing of 'Mommy and Me' on it. D'awwwwww, right? Um. No. I'm such a terrible person I literally though, "Uh... NO! You stupid kid! That is just a stupid piece of paper - it's nothing - it's garbage - how is that going to help her? DO something useful for her don't just hand her a bloody piece of paper with some crayon on it and act like that is going to wipe everything away for ever and suddenly her headache is gone from listening to your whining, suddenly she doesn't have raging cramps anymore, miraculously dinner is made and no kids are arguing and the house is tidied and the long list of everything else she's still got to do... No. Just no. You've given her a piece of paper and she still has to do all of that. You SELFISH KID."
I'm terrible. Right?
But the funny thing is - I've totally been in this place before. Raging, angry, psycho mom stage - stomping down halls, slamming cupboards, sobbing uncontrollably and scolding kids - and Eva has drawn me a picture and it MELTS MY HEART. Suddenly that all fades away (for the moment, at least). I'm sorry but isn't that freaking amazing?? WHY is that? It's a bloody piece of paper. In any other situation this would not work. That's why Moms are DA BOMB.
Chew on this. You've had a hellish day at work - people yelling, deadlines missed, mistakes made, boss pissy, whatever it is - you're tired, angry, drained. You manage to be amazing all day, however, but then you find out you've got to cover for your coworker and work a double shift that night. Your coworker comes up to you and gives you a sticky note that says 'Coworker and Me" on it. Drawn with crayon. D'awwwww.... You're not mad anymore. You're not tired anymore. In fact, you give your coworker a great big hug and kiss, with tears in your eyes, and suddenly feel on cloud 9... Life couldn't be better. NOT.
Someone rams into your car. Gives you a colouring page. All better.
Someone throws up on your shoes. Writes ' I Luv Yu' on a piece of paper. Okey dokey!
A friend wakes you up in the middle of the night every 2 hours. Smiles once and farts. A www....!
You spend hours making a healthy meal for your partner, he throws it on the ground. Says ma ma. Heart melted.
You clean a room top to bottom and then your friend pukes, poops or ejects some other slimy type substance all over your couch and clothes right before you have to go to work/are late for an appointment. Says oops. No worries!
You have a date planned with your friends, your coworker gets a fever and you have to cancel. Falls asleep in your arms and refuses to be be put down anywhere, making your arm fall asleep and you get all of a few hours of restless sleep. Snores. while drooling with his smooshy, drooly face on your chest. So precious, amirite??
What is it that Moms are hard wired with that makes us deal with all this crap and be filled up with the tiniest of gestures? If I was constantly taken advantage of at work and my coworkers got together and to show their appreciate gave me a colored picture of us holding hands as stick figures and why is my hair green and my butt looks massive and why do I have wrinkles on my eyes and surely my boobs are THAT big and is this bloody thing drawn to scale?? I would be all Nah. Just. Nah. In any other scenario of someone caring for anothers' needs and being taken for granted and used for years and years, there would be no doubt in mind that person should be dumped by the wayside and left behind. But with our children, it is ALL we need to carry us through the next week of frustration and anxiety and exhaustion. Whatever it is - it is beautiful. Not to mention necessary. When you become a mother, suddenly you are not the centre of your own universe anymore. That position is unceremoniously taken by your children. And yet, Moms everywhere do it, the work of twenty, for free.
Each and every day Moms selflessly put themselves last after a very long list of people and tasks. And we simultaneously LOVE and HATE it. What an amazing contradiction. How beautiful. Being a mother has made me realize all that my own mother has done, and still does, for me. I don't tell her enough how grateful I am and although I have graduated from crayon colored pictures of her and I holding hands - the ways in which I show her my gratitude are sincerely lacking when you compare them to all she does.
I still don't know how to adequately show that appreciation I have for her. I know it can't be bought. Words always seem to fall short. Yet they are the best I have.
So, from one mother to another - and to mine especially - this is my crayon coloured picture:
Mama: you are always my #1 person to call whenever I need anything...from everything to how to boil water to help with Grandma Secretan's recipes when I've got company coming over to worries about my kids health to needing a pick me up, vent or good laugh. You have been behind me through every stage in my life, even the ones where I'm sure I left you shaking your head with anger and tears at my stupidity. You and Papa have shown me true unconditional love. I have learned through your example to be a mother, friend, housewife. From my early years asking you the definition of countless words and stealing your and Aunt Linda's books... To listening to you laugh at Papas ridiculous jokes and showing me what a true loving relationship should look like...you've always been a constant in my life. Ho Lee Chit I love you!
To my oldest sister Meg: who taught me the value of 'Ehh! They're fine!' parenting and how to make any space that you have beautiful and warm and who makes me feel like an equal even though she has so much more knowledge and experience than I- I love being your sister. I love how we pick up as if no time has passed even though it has and how we act like best buds even despite the years that seperate us. I am grateful for all the times you have shown unconditional love- both to me, when you've loved your crummy sister even when I didnt deserve it, and to your own husband, kids and friends.
To Dori: even though I stole all your clothes and wrote mean things in my school journal about you, I have always looked up to you. You are strong and defiant when everyone these days are becoming sheeple. You have taught me to carve my own path and be confident in myself. I am so lucky to have you to call for advice and ANY time of day I need it, no matter what you are going through, you are always there. Your hubby and you have opened your home and hearts to me during the mosr difficult times of my life and I will always be grateful.
To my sister in law Jess: You have always been strong and independent in my eyes, capable of doing whatever your mind is set to. Regardless of your own perception of yourself, I have always looked up to you for your strength (from becoming a convert to an unknown church at such a young age and the courage and faith that must have required, to dealing with being married to my cuckoo big brother!) You are natural mother and one whom I've learned much from watching you your parent my sweet neice and nephews. Thank you for allowing my family to be involved with yours even though our beliefs differ. You are proof that different people with different opinions can share love and respect. Thank you!
MOMS. YOU ARE AMAZING. EVERYTHING YOU DO, HAVE DONE AND WILL DO, IS GOOD ENOUGH. In fact, it's better than good enough. Don't let anyone- not other moms, other non-moms, and least of all not Pinterest or FB or any other stupid viral site make you feel you should be doing more than you are already doing - the BEST thing you can do, day in and day out - Loving your kids unconditionally (even when they don't deserve it).
I'm terrible. Right?
But the funny thing is - I've totally been in this place before. Raging, angry, psycho mom stage - stomping down halls, slamming cupboards, sobbing uncontrollably and scolding kids - and Eva has drawn me a picture and it MELTS MY HEART. Suddenly that all fades away (for the moment, at least). I'm sorry but isn't that freaking amazing?? WHY is that? It's a bloody piece of paper. In any other situation this would not work. That's why Moms are DA BOMB.
Chew on this. You've had a hellish day at work - people yelling, deadlines missed, mistakes made, boss pissy, whatever it is - you're tired, angry, drained. You manage to be amazing all day, however, but then you find out you've got to cover for your coworker and work a double shift that night. Your coworker comes up to you and gives you a sticky note that says 'Coworker and Me" on it. Drawn with crayon. D'awwwww.... You're not mad anymore. You're not tired anymore. In fact, you give your coworker a great big hug and kiss, with tears in your eyes, and suddenly feel on cloud 9... Life couldn't be better. NOT.
Someone rams into your car. Gives you a colouring page. All better.
Someone throws up on your shoes. Writes ' I Luv Yu' on a piece of paper. Okey dokey!
A friend wakes you up in the middle of the night every 2 hours. Smiles once and farts. A www....!
You spend hours making a healthy meal for your partner, he throws it on the ground. Says ma ma. Heart melted.
You clean a room top to bottom and then your friend pukes, poops or ejects some other slimy type substance all over your couch and clothes right before you have to go to work/are late for an appointment. Says oops. No worries!
You have a date planned with your friends, your coworker gets a fever and you have to cancel. Falls asleep in your arms and refuses to be be put down anywhere, making your arm fall asleep and you get all of a few hours of restless sleep. Snores. while drooling with his smooshy, drooly face on your chest. So precious, amirite??
What is it that Moms are hard wired with that makes us deal with all this crap and be filled up with the tiniest of gestures? If I was constantly taken advantage of at work and my coworkers got together and to show their appreciate gave me a colored picture of us holding hands as stick figures and why is my hair green and my butt looks massive and why do I have wrinkles on my eyes and surely my boobs are THAT big and is this bloody thing drawn to scale?? I would be all Nah. Just. Nah. In any other scenario of someone caring for anothers' needs and being taken for granted and used for years and years, there would be no doubt in mind that person should be dumped by the wayside and left behind. But with our children, it is ALL we need to carry us through the next week of frustration and anxiety and exhaustion. Whatever it is - it is beautiful. Not to mention necessary. When you become a mother, suddenly you are not the centre of your own universe anymore. That position is unceremoniously taken by your children. And yet, Moms everywhere do it, the work of twenty, for free.
Each and every day Moms selflessly put themselves last after a very long list of people and tasks. And we simultaneously LOVE and HATE it. What an amazing contradiction. How beautiful. Being a mother has made me realize all that my own mother has done, and still does, for me. I don't tell her enough how grateful I am and although I have graduated from crayon colored pictures of her and I holding hands - the ways in which I show her my gratitude are sincerely lacking when you compare them to all she does.
I still don't know how to adequately show that appreciation I have for her. I know it can't be bought. Words always seem to fall short. Yet they are the best I have.
So, from one mother to another - and to mine especially - this is my crayon coloured picture:
Mama: you are always my #1 person to call whenever I need anything...from everything to how to boil water to help with Grandma Secretan's recipes when I've got company coming over to worries about my kids health to needing a pick me up, vent or good laugh. You have been behind me through every stage in my life, even the ones where I'm sure I left you shaking your head with anger and tears at my stupidity. You and Papa have shown me true unconditional love. I have learned through your example to be a mother, friend, housewife. From my early years asking you the definition of countless words and stealing your and Aunt Linda's books... To listening to you laugh at Papas ridiculous jokes and showing me what a true loving relationship should look like...you've always been a constant in my life. Ho Lee Chit I love you!
To my oldest sister Meg: who taught me the value of 'Ehh! They're fine!' parenting and how to make any space that you have beautiful and warm and who makes me feel like an equal even though she has so much more knowledge and experience than I- I love being your sister. I love how we pick up as if no time has passed even though it has and how we act like best buds even despite the years that seperate us. I am grateful for all the times you have shown unconditional love- both to me, when you've loved your crummy sister even when I didnt deserve it, and to your own husband, kids and friends.
To Dori: even though I stole all your clothes and wrote mean things in my school journal about you, I have always looked up to you. You are strong and defiant when everyone these days are becoming sheeple. You have taught me to carve my own path and be confident in myself. I am so lucky to have you to call for advice and ANY time of day I need it, no matter what you are going through, you are always there. Your hubby and you have opened your home and hearts to me during the mosr difficult times of my life and I will always be grateful.
To my sister in law Jess: You have always been strong and independent in my eyes, capable of doing whatever your mind is set to. Regardless of your own perception of yourself, I have always looked up to you for your strength (from becoming a convert to an unknown church at such a young age and the courage and faith that must have required, to dealing with being married to my cuckoo big brother!) You are natural mother and one whom I've learned much from watching you your parent my sweet neice and nephews. Thank you for allowing my family to be involved with yours even though our beliefs differ. You are proof that different people with different opinions can share love and respect. Thank you!
MOMS. YOU ARE AMAZING. EVERYTHING YOU DO, HAVE DONE AND WILL DO, IS GOOD ENOUGH. In fact, it's better than good enough. Don't let anyone- not other moms, other non-moms, and least of all not Pinterest or FB or any other stupid viral site make you feel you should be doing more than you are already doing - the BEST thing you can do, day in and day out - Loving your kids unconditionally (even when they don't deserve it).
Friday, April 29, 2016
I love love!
I am a wreck tonight.
Not for usual reasons.
Dallin bought tickets for a Father/Daughter Ball in Raymond tonight. He kept the details a surprise from Eva and only told her to dress up in her fanciest ball gown for the night. She has NOT been able to talk to me about anything else. We planned everything days in advance... the dress, the shoes, right down to the necklace she'd wear and could she please wear some of Mommy's special ruby red lipstick? (yes, she could). I knew my heart would be warmed but I didn't expect this.
Maybe it's because I've never been here before so I have no basis for comparison. No precedent. Nada. After Eva's dad left - a mere month after her birth - I always pined for a partner who would love Eva as his own. A father who would teach her things I couldn't, who would be her safe place, who would tickle her and wrestle her, who would teach her math and life lessons and threaten to beat up boys that she likes.... all of those glorious things I coveted with a passion bordering on insanity. No, really. It clouded my judgement. I wanted these things so badly for us that I continually introduced idiot after douche bag after jerk face into our fledgling family unit. Like so many of the dresses Eva and I pored over, trying to find JUST the right one; I held up new boyfriend after new boyfriend for her - "This one? Okay... no. Maybe this one? Hmmm... okay, this one for sure! No?" Hmm... I was doing something terribly wrong. It ended horribly.
But then. Then there was Dallin. Dallin IS my happy ending. It sounds so cliché and fanatical, I know. Maybe it's raging female emotions. Maybe not. But there is something about Dallin - something that he does that none of the others could do. And oh, how they tried. Maybe it's in how he is with Eva. He just IS with her. There's no pretentiousness. No acting. No slide long glances to see if Mom saw how sweet he just was with her and will that earn him any brownie points later? When he is with her, he is with HER. And she knows it. And that is why I'm a wreck. Every little girl deserves that relationship with her Daddy and, finally, FINALLY, Eva has it.
I was always so jealous of what (some) other couples took for granted. The ease in which they were able to give the most fundamental of gifts to their children; both biological parents. It doesn't even register to some as a gift that they are lucky to give, but trust me, from the outside, it is HUGE. Yet I feel such gratitude for the ease in which Dallin and Eva dance together as father and daughter... it seems as natural as any relationship I've ever witnessed.... and I hope it will remain as time goes on. They are both so invested in each other and it has made me realize this very basic, simple, yet overlooked principle in life -
Love is love. Love doesn't have physical, psychological, social constraints. Love doesn't care what your genes are, what your shape, size, age, gender, culture or race is. Love is love. Eva and Dallin share 0 genes. They are fostering a parent/child relationship with nothing to go on other then a mutual, real love for each other with no coercion, no obligation, nothing. It is beautiful to watch and conceive! Their love is just love.
Dallin is NOT the picture of the man I thought I'd be with. Ohhhh HAIL nah. If the guys I dated were... I dunno, fruit; I only dated apples and Dallin is like... a tomato. Like, wasn't even on my radar as a fruit. I mean candidate. I mean... I don't know what I mean. All the guys I dated were university schooled, clean cut, skinny, with a sharp wit and sharp passions. Then along comes Dallin. Homeless. Bathing in a lake. Snowplow operator. Landscaper. Hitchhiker. Hunter. Redneck. Duck Dynasty beard. Dreadlocked skullet. Carefree AF. With rough hands, loud voice and a borderline naïve sense of someone who has little to hide and even littler to prove to anyone. What he is made of spoke to what I am made of - and that was it. Nothing else mattered then and it doesn't matter now. Doesn't matter how many times I cringe - at his volume, his style, his carefree attitude about hygiene and parenting and lawn care, his redneck camo clothes with holes in them and crocs with socks and refusal to shave off that bloody skullet - all of that matters little. Because love is love.
Dallin isn't like an unpolished gem - he doesn't NEED polishing. If I wanted to polish him, I would end up tarnishing our love. All the other men where just glitzed up piles of... turds. They were turds. Turds with fancy degrees and hair gel and cologne.
Finding a love like this has made me a much more understanding person. I used to believe in definitions of love - as some people still do - definitions of love being limited to this person and that person, this type and that type... to what purpose? Little, in my mind. Does judging their love improve my own? No. Of course not. If anything, the negativity impedes it. I love Dallin beyond any logical reasoning and he loves me beyond the same. Love is love.
Love is an OCD single mom and a homeless redneck making a family.
Love is those two women going against the grain and casting off preconceived definitions.
Love is two human beings loving each others souls and caring not for what shell they are encased in.
Love is a man and a woman sticking together through trial after trial for themselves, for each other, for their children.
Love is loving your partner not when they make all the right decisions - but when they mess up and make the WRONG ones.
Love is the elderly couple after 60 years - who still come out to family gatherings and play 'Big Booty'.
Love is taking care of your partners health and needs - even if they kinda hate you for it.
Love is all these things and more.
And so here I am, musing as usual. And off they are, that big stinky man with that little girl dearest to my heart - a part of me chipped off from the best parts of me. And he is loving her and raising her and helping her and nurturing her... and it does indescribable things to my heart. Its' as if he plows along - bursting my heart into tiny puffs of dandelion fluff, shimmering and piercing all parts of my feeling yet all the while sewing up the parts of my heart left damaged, hurt, unsure, scared.
In a world that is going crazy with mindless posts, pictures, gifs, memes, Netflix and chill... where the internet is a stage for anyone to get up and spew feckless opinions about this and that, and what is acceptable and what is not... scrolling and scrolling to find just that perfect outrage to get worked up over... can't we just go back to the basics? Instead of going OUT OUT OUT - let's look back in. To our own families. Our own loves.
I love my loves. Even when - scratch that - ESPECIALLY when they are imperfect.
And I know you all do too. :)
Not for usual reasons.
Dallin bought tickets for a Father/Daughter Ball in Raymond tonight. He kept the details a surprise from Eva and only told her to dress up in her fanciest ball gown for the night. She has NOT been able to talk to me about anything else. We planned everything days in advance... the dress, the shoes, right down to the necklace she'd wear and could she please wear some of Mommy's special ruby red lipstick? (yes, she could). I knew my heart would be warmed but I didn't expect this.
Maybe it's because I've never been here before so I have no basis for comparison. No precedent. Nada. After Eva's dad left - a mere month after her birth - I always pined for a partner who would love Eva as his own. A father who would teach her things I couldn't, who would be her safe place, who would tickle her and wrestle her, who would teach her math and life lessons and threaten to beat up boys that she likes.... all of those glorious things I coveted with a passion bordering on insanity. No, really. It clouded my judgement. I wanted these things so badly for us that I continually introduced idiot after douche bag after jerk face into our fledgling family unit. Like so many of the dresses Eva and I pored over, trying to find JUST the right one; I held up new boyfriend after new boyfriend for her - "This one? Okay... no. Maybe this one? Hmmm... okay, this one for sure! No?" Hmm... I was doing something terribly wrong. It ended horribly.
But then. Then there was Dallin. Dallin IS my happy ending. It sounds so cliché and fanatical, I know. Maybe it's raging female emotions. Maybe not. But there is something about Dallin - something that he does that none of the others could do. And oh, how they tried. Maybe it's in how he is with Eva. He just IS with her. There's no pretentiousness. No acting. No slide long glances to see if Mom saw how sweet he just was with her and will that earn him any brownie points later? When he is with her, he is with HER. And she knows it. And that is why I'm a wreck. Every little girl deserves that relationship with her Daddy and, finally, FINALLY, Eva has it.
I was always so jealous of what (some) other couples took for granted. The ease in which they were able to give the most fundamental of gifts to their children; both biological parents. It doesn't even register to some as a gift that they are lucky to give, but trust me, from the outside, it is HUGE. Yet I feel such gratitude for the ease in which Dallin and Eva dance together as father and daughter... it seems as natural as any relationship I've ever witnessed.... and I hope it will remain as time goes on. They are both so invested in each other and it has made me realize this very basic, simple, yet overlooked principle in life -
Love is love. Love doesn't have physical, psychological, social constraints. Love doesn't care what your genes are, what your shape, size, age, gender, culture or race is. Love is love. Eva and Dallin share 0 genes. They are fostering a parent/child relationship with nothing to go on other then a mutual, real love for each other with no coercion, no obligation, nothing. It is beautiful to watch and conceive! Their love is just love.
Dallin is NOT the picture of the man I thought I'd be with. Ohhhh HAIL nah. If the guys I dated were... I dunno, fruit; I only dated apples and Dallin is like... a tomato. Like, wasn't even on my radar as a fruit. I mean candidate. I mean... I don't know what I mean. All the guys I dated were university schooled, clean cut, skinny, with a sharp wit and sharp passions. Then along comes Dallin. Homeless. Bathing in a lake. Snowplow operator. Landscaper. Hitchhiker. Hunter. Redneck. Duck Dynasty beard. Dreadlocked skullet. Carefree AF. With rough hands, loud voice and a borderline naïve sense of someone who has little to hide and even littler to prove to anyone. What he is made of spoke to what I am made of - and that was it. Nothing else mattered then and it doesn't matter now. Doesn't matter how many times I cringe - at his volume, his style, his carefree attitude about hygiene and parenting and lawn care, his redneck camo clothes with holes in them and crocs with socks and refusal to shave off that bloody skullet - all of that matters little. Because love is love.
Dallin isn't like an unpolished gem - he doesn't NEED polishing. If I wanted to polish him, I would end up tarnishing our love. All the other men where just glitzed up piles of... turds. They were turds. Turds with fancy degrees and hair gel and cologne.
Finding a love like this has made me a much more understanding person. I used to believe in definitions of love - as some people still do - definitions of love being limited to this person and that person, this type and that type... to what purpose? Little, in my mind. Does judging their love improve my own? No. Of course not. If anything, the negativity impedes it. I love Dallin beyond any logical reasoning and he loves me beyond the same. Love is love.
Love is an OCD single mom and a homeless redneck making a family.
Love is those two women going against the grain and casting off preconceived definitions.
Love is two human beings loving each others souls and caring not for what shell they are encased in.
Love is a man and a woman sticking together through trial after trial for themselves, for each other, for their children.
Love is loving your partner not when they make all the right decisions - but when they mess up and make the WRONG ones.
Love is the elderly couple after 60 years - who still come out to family gatherings and play 'Big Booty'.
Love is taking care of your partners health and needs - even if they kinda hate you for it.
Love is all these things and more.
And so here I am, musing as usual. And off they are, that big stinky man with that little girl dearest to my heart - a part of me chipped off from the best parts of me. And he is loving her and raising her and helping her and nurturing her... and it does indescribable things to my heart. Its' as if he plows along - bursting my heart into tiny puffs of dandelion fluff, shimmering and piercing all parts of my feeling yet all the while sewing up the parts of my heart left damaged, hurt, unsure, scared.
In a world that is going crazy with mindless posts, pictures, gifs, memes, Netflix and chill... where the internet is a stage for anyone to get up and spew feckless opinions about this and that, and what is acceptable and what is not... scrolling and scrolling to find just that perfect outrage to get worked up over... can't we just go back to the basics? Instead of going OUT OUT OUT - let's look back in. To our own families. Our own loves.
I love my loves. Even when - scratch that - ESPECIALLY when they are imperfect.
And I know you all do too. :)
Monday, August 3, 2015
Marching Under the Banner of Someone Else's Ambitions
I'm on a roll! Two blog posts in a week. Look at me and my bad self...
I shared with you all my first declaration from 'The Motivation Manifesto'. Maybe it inspired you to be more present this week. Maybe you felt your eyes were clearer and you noticed something precious, void of electronics, in a quiet moment that you may not have while otherwise glued to a screen. Maybe you let go of the tireless must-haves brought on by app amnesia and browser black out and simply lived- in the moment - pure and Simple. Maybe not.
Regardless, here comes another blog post for you to chew on - not unlike our bovine friends.. Minus the vacant look in our eyes.
"We Shall Reclaim Our Agenda"
The OCD organizer in me loves this one. I love me some organization! Whether it be as common as a to-do list, tried and true, or as unique as a full fledged command center, I repeat- I love me some organization. My house may be full to the brim of what may appear to some as clutter and crap, but to me everything has a home. My MO is organize first, clean after. If something is out of place and horribly dirty, I'll put it in its home first.... It can stay grimy until later (I'm being present with my kids, not obsessively cleaning, remember??) Anyways, have we adequately established that I love me some organization? My label maker is my BFF. Alphabetization. Categorization. Bins and buckets, folders and files. I feel a trying-to-be-cool-but-terribly-awkward rap for preteens coming on....
So naturally, I thought I would already have this in the bag.
Like many things in life, I was wrong.
Well, maybe not wrong. Just...disillusioned.
I may be the queen of to do lists and monthly planners, but what of my life's agenda? What are my goals? I have, after all, but one life (even though reincarnation does sound oodles of fun...) This book outlines our life's agenda to one hurling a spear of purpose far into the vast, green, fields of the future and then striding diligently towards it. Loose your way? No matter. Find a vantage path and reorient yourself to that golden spear. Are you on your path? Have you strayed?
What a beautiful concept. A far cry more courageous than my menial lists and labels...
1. Grocery shopping
2. Paint the bathroom
3. Clean up dog poop
4. Weed the garden
5. Lesson plans for Eva
6. Spend time with the kids
That was literally an example of one of my to do lists. Yahoo. What a shining spear of purpose i have thrust upon myself - the ever glorious task of ridding my yard of feces. Go me. For the win.
I'm not saying the menial daily tasks are unnecessary. They are. I'm not saying I'll leave the dog poops (poopi?) where they lay- although perhaps to be safe you should watch your step when you come to my house ;-) - I'm saying that there should be more to my life, more to me, to what Nicole IS fundamentally, to what my life can offer the universe, karma, God, whatever you subscribe to; than ONLY these daily repetitions.
What do I dream? What accomplishment(s) would give me pure pride and pleasure at my last day in this life? That's what I should be striving for, working toward, sweating and poring over. It's a difficult and demanding personal question to ask of yourself. This question is made more difficult by the host of distractions laid on us - both self inflicted and otherwise. Which is why becoming fully present is crucial first and foremost, otherwise we will still be bogged down by the chorus, nay, clamour of the digital age.
The book urges its reader to write down your goals and dreams as a visual reminder to check yourself. Failing this, wrecking yourself is heavily implied but never outright said.
This one may take me a while evidenced by the fact that I am still sitting, pen in hand, trying to accurately put into the words the grandiose vision I have in my head. Ya know, the one NOT influenced by media perceptions or peer pressure. It's tricky to truly weed out the nonsense that takes root in our brains.. Well, this is my blog so we'll focus on my brain so as to not inappropriately accuse anyone of having a dumb brain... It's tricky for ME to weed out the nonsense that takes root in my brain. They are clever, you know. (Whoever 'they' are..) It seems their mission is to make the weeds seem as similar to the stalks that bear fruit as possible. And boy, are they good. Also, at making you feel like you really shouldn't or needn't be it there weeding in the first place. Hmm. I like this weeding analogy.
Being well off was one of the things on that list and lately I've truly had to ask myself some hard questions about what that really means and why. Why with the money. Always this infatuation with money. Gotta get it, gotta have it, gotta squirrel it away. I'm not suggesting being financially stupid is the pathway to happiness, but I most certainly AM suggesting that being rich is just as much not.
I am content, however to say, that more and more each day I have been able to recognize the true colors behind each of the items that showed up on my list. Like a ruthless job interview, I scrutinized each of the candidates legitimacy and intentions... Any found lacking in either department were sent packing.
This true vision of my 'life's agenda' will hopefully provide purpose and intent to each of my days. Ok, maybe not each. Let's go with most. Okay, some. Some of my days. No doubt most days my head will be in the clouds daydreaming about when I can have any of those ridiculous things so far out of my reach... Or I'll be down in the dirt, with my head so far in the sand of self pity or anger or bitterness or whatever other silly useless emotion that mires us down.. I am horribly imperfect after all! But, if after all of that I am able to get up, look into the future and see that shining 'Spear' I've set for myself and take one or two steps toward... Well, at least I'm on my way. And that's the whole point, isn't it?
Now.. If I can just muster up the bicep strength to hurl this hefty Spear...
I shared with you all my first declaration from 'The Motivation Manifesto'. Maybe it inspired you to be more present this week. Maybe you felt your eyes were clearer and you noticed something precious, void of electronics, in a quiet moment that you may not have while otherwise glued to a screen. Maybe you let go of the tireless must-haves brought on by app amnesia and browser black out and simply lived- in the moment - pure and Simple. Maybe not.
Regardless, here comes another blog post for you to chew on - not unlike our bovine friends.. Minus the vacant look in our eyes.
"We Shall Reclaim Our Agenda"
The OCD organizer in me loves this one. I love me some organization! Whether it be as common as a to-do list, tried and true, or as unique as a full fledged command center, I repeat- I love me some organization. My house may be full to the brim of what may appear to some as clutter and crap, but to me everything has a home. My MO is organize first, clean after. If something is out of place and horribly dirty, I'll put it in its home first.... It can stay grimy until later (I'm being present with my kids, not obsessively cleaning, remember??) Anyways, have we adequately established that I love me some organization? My label maker is my BFF. Alphabetization. Categorization. Bins and buckets, folders and files. I feel a trying-to-be-cool-but-terribly-awkward rap for preteens coming on....
So naturally, I thought I would already have this in the bag.
Like many things in life, I was wrong.
Well, maybe not wrong. Just...disillusioned.
I may be the queen of to do lists and monthly planners, but what of my life's agenda? What are my goals? I have, after all, but one life (even though reincarnation does sound oodles of fun...) This book outlines our life's agenda to one hurling a spear of purpose far into the vast, green, fields of the future and then striding diligently towards it. Loose your way? No matter. Find a vantage path and reorient yourself to that golden spear. Are you on your path? Have you strayed?
What a beautiful concept. A far cry more courageous than my menial lists and labels...
1. Grocery shopping
2. Paint the bathroom
3. Clean up dog poop
4. Weed the garden
5. Lesson plans for Eva
6. Spend time with the kids
That was literally an example of one of my to do lists. Yahoo. What a shining spear of purpose i have thrust upon myself - the ever glorious task of ridding my yard of feces. Go me. For the win.
I'm not saying the menial daily tasks are unnecessary. They are. I'm not saying I'll leave the dog poops (poopi?) where they lay- although perhaps to be safe you should watch your step when you come to my house ;-) - I'm saying that there should be more to my life, more to me, to what Nicole IS fundamentally, to what my life can offer the universe, karma, God, whatever you subscribe to; than ONLY these daily repetitions.
What do I dream? What accomplishment(s) would give me pure pride and pleasure at my last day in this life? That's what I should be striving for, working toward, sweating and poring over. It's a difficult and demanding personal question to ask of yourself. This question is made more difficult by the host of distractions laid on us - both self inflicted and otherwise. Which is why becoming fully present is crucial first and foremost, otherwise we will still be bogged down by the chorus, nay, clamour of the digital age.
The book urges its reader to write down your goals and dreams as a visual reminder to check yourself. Failing this, wrecking yourself is heavily implied but never outright said.
This one may take me a while evidenced by the fact that I am still sitting, pen in hand, trying to accurately put into the words the grandiose vision I have in my head. Ya know, the one NOT influenced by media perceptions or peer pressure. It's tricky to truly weed out the nonsense that takes root in our brains.. Well, this is my blog so we'll focus on my brain so as to not inappropriately accuse anyone of having a dumb brain... It's tricky for ME to weed out the nonsense that takes root in my brain. They are clever, you know. (Whoever 'they' are..) It seems their mission is to make the weeds seem as similar to the stalks that bear fruit as possible. And boy, are they good. Also, at making you feel like you really shouldn't or needn't be it there weeding in the first place. Hmm. I like this weeding analogy.
Being well off was one of the things on that list and lately I've truly had to ask myself some hard questions about what that really means and why. Why with the money. Always this infatuation with money. Gotta get it, gotta have it, gotta squirrel it away. I'm not suggesting being financially stupid is the pathway to happiness, but I most certainly AM suggesting that being rich is just as much not.
I am content, however to say, that more and more each day I have been able to recognize the true colors behind each of the items that showed up on my list. Like a ruthless job interview, I scrutinized each of the candidates legitimacy and intentions... Any found lacking in either department were sent packing.
This true vision of my 'life's agenda' will hopefully provide purpose and intent to each of my days. Ok, maybe not each. Let's go with most. Okay, some. Some of my days. No doubt most days my head will be in the clouds daydreaming about when I can have any of those ridiculous things so far out of my reach... Or I'll be down in the dirt, with my head so far in the sand of self pity or anger or bitterness or whatever other silly useless emotion that mires us down.. I am horribly imperfect after all! But, if after all of that I am able to get up, look into the future and see that shining 'Spear' I've set for myself and take one or two steps toward... Well, at least I'm on my way. And that's the whole point, isn't it?
Now.. If I can just muster up the bicep strength to hurl this hefty Spear...
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Prescence
My mind has been full lately and is spilling out into the blogging realm, as is common for it to do.
I have been battling between two strong urges - first, to put down in words the difficult yet rewarding journey I have found myself on and second, to not sound like a complete crazy person. I'm hoping there is a balance to be struck... I've settled down nicely to accept that if I come across as a crazy person whilst trying to express something I have become passionate about, so be it.
It all began months ago while I was in Chapters with my oldest sister.. I am drawn to books like a moth to flame and although there isn't much spare moo-lah in our bank account these days, poor Dallin will attest to the fact that whenever I go to Chapters I never leave empty handed. I picked up a book, on a whim, called The Motivation Manifesto. Googling such will bring you to a site that seems... in this persons' opinion... cult-ish? No, that is harsh. And not appropriate. Let's go with... bizzare? Overdone? Fad-ish? Okay, I'm pretty sure that last one isn't actually a word. Give me a break here guys.
With all that said, I picked up the book knowing nothing of the trending or not-trending nature of the novel. I felt compelled to read it - which is no strange occurrence since most of the books on the shelf call out to me as I pass them by, urging me with sad, puppy dog-like in a shelter to "Take me home!" I did it indeed bring it home, and have not had, as The Simpsons have said, "..zee buyers' remorse.." It has become both beacon and linchpin for me in my quest for self improvement.
In a nutshell - and a quick nutshell at that - it outlines 9 'Manifestos' to center your life around. Each of them spoke to me and I have taken it upon myself to work through them, one at a time. No time frame, no schedule, just as it happens. Needless to say, I started 4 months ago and I just moved to Manifesto #2. Phew. Not for the faint of heart. Yet I am determined! "Look - gimme some inner peace or I'll mop the floor with ya!" But I can truly say that I feel improved - refreshed even - while I set these policies to heart.
So, without further ado, allow me to introduce you to Manifesto #1 :
'We shall meet life with full presence and power.'
Ahh, see, there's the connection to the post title. I had you wondering, I'm sure.
Being present. Fully present. This is something that society and I struggle with greatly. Put your phone down from wherever you're reading this blog and look around you - how many people around you are fully present into whatever it is they're doing and how many are looking at a device? Now, back to your device to read this. Don't worry, the irony of that isn't lost on me...
Here is a list of my electronic transgressions: (Am I seeking penance, oh blogging world? No. Yes. Maybe??)
1. Filling my mind from sun up to sun down with truly useless electronic information. lolsnaps, facebook, youtube, pinterest, and a multitude of nonsense blogs are my poison of choice.
2. Watching my children do truly remarkable and adorable things through the lens of my camera.
3. Checking the clock to see when my son will be napping so I can watch the next episode of whatever I happen to be binge watching on Netflix at the time.
4. Multitasking, or, multitexting? Is that a thing? It's got a ring to it. I'm going with it. Multi-texting people while simultaneously cooking dinner, answering my daughters' questions, listening to talk radio and bouncing the baby on my hip.
5. Pinning, pinning, pinning. The never ending stream of pins coming from my pin-feed (again, don't even know if that's a thing...) is astonishing. They clamor from my pinterest boards but shockingly never grace my craft room with their presence...
6. My ability to find and regurgitate quote after quote of The Simpsons to nearly any scenario I find myself in. I believe there's already a couple in here... sigh... help me someone... please?
7. Getting the grandiose idea to have a cell phone basket at my dinner table from none other than, drum roll please, a show I watched during one of my aforementioned Netflix-binge watching-sessions. Hypocrisy, thy name is Nicole.
And those are just the juicy bits I feel comfortable sharing...
My goal these past few months has been to be present. Easy? Negative. It has been a work in progress but I've made gains... I think? 'I hope it doesn't sound arrogant when I say I am the greatest woman alive!' We've become a society of believing that being online is helping us to think more but in actuality we are thinking less. Sure, we are shoving more into our brains at one particular time, but our retention of this material is most times shockingly low. And the quality of it is more often that not very poor. Or is that just me? 'Remember that time when... with that guy? Which was it? Oh no, that was that other thing... Ya know, I read somewhere that.... I don't remember who said it but...." Does anyone else find themselves saying things like that? Unless it's the Simpsons. Then I think I've already established that I'm a pro.
It's actually really difficult! But I find myself relishing moments that would otherwise pass me by. Small, innocuous things that may not seem like much to others. Hell, they didn't seem like much to me until I decided to stop running amuck in life with phone or ipad or t.v. or computer glued to my eyeballs. In them I've found true joy. I've learned things. I've found that when Eva focuses really hard on some new concept I'm teaching her about, her right eye wanders slightly to the right. Dallin crosses his toes when he is really comfortable - weirdo. (He's probably going to hate me for that...) Remy makes the most ridiculous strains and lunges with his mouth as I'm getting ready to nurse him. My neighbor down the street is the sweetest soul who takes too much upon her shoulders. Eva is crying out for more friends whilst I am content to be a homebody. All of these things may have passed me by had I not been present to notice them.
Too much sensory electronic information can dull our abilities to use our other faculties - empathy. Sympathy. Prudence. Tact. You can see it all around if you begin to look for it. In the harshly worded facebook comment or post someone puts up in frustration. In the smiling discrimination that is everywhere. In our repetition of the mantra, 'It's okay' when it's really not. Alternatively, in our inability to give the benefit of the doubt to those who truly deserve it.
Now, when I'm texting, I'm TEXTING. Only. Poor Eva. She is still getting used to the whole idea that she now has to wait to talk to me while I send a text - poor, depraved girl. When I'm playing with Eva or Remy, I'm with them. 100%. When I'm on the phone, I'm ON THE PHONE. For any of you that try to reach me on the phone and I NEVER seem to answer, this is why. I want to give you my full attention. If I can't do that, I let it go to voicemail. Now, if there's just a manifesto somewhere in there about calling people back...
I have been battling between two strong urges - first, to put down in words the difficult yet rewarding journey I have found myself on and second, to not sound like a complete crazy person. I'm hoping there is a balance to be struck... I've settled down nicely to accept that if I come across as a crazy person whilst trying to express something I have become passionate about, so be it.
It all began months ago while I was in Chapters with my oldest sister.. I am drawn to books like a moth to flame and although there isn't much spare moo-lah in our bank account these days, poor Dallin will attest to the fact that whenever I go to Chapters I never leave empty handed. I picked up a book, on a whim, called The Motivation Manifesto. Googling such will bring you to a site that seems... in this persons' opinion... cult-ish? No, that is harsh. And not appropriate. Let's go with... bizzare? Overdone? Fad-ish? Okay, I'm pretty sure that last one isn't actually a word. Give me a break here guys.
With all that said, I picked up the book knowing nothing of the trending or not-trending nature of the novel. I felt compelled to read it - which is no strange occurrence since most of the books on the shelf call out to me as I pass them by, urging me with sad, puppy dog-like in a shelter to "Take me home!" I did it indeed bring it home, and have not had, as The Simpsons have said, "..zee buyers' remorse.." It has become both beacon and linchpin for me in my quest for self improvement.
In a nutshell - and a quick nutshell at that - it outlines 9 'Manifestos' to center your life around. Each of them spoke to me and I have taken it upon myself to work through them, one at a time. No time frame, no schedule, just as it happens. Needless to say, I started 4 months ago and I just moved to Manifesto #2. Phew. Not for the faint of heart. Yet I am determined! "Look - gimme some inner peace or I'll mop the floor with ya!" But I can truly say that I feel improved - refreshed even - while I set these policies to heart.
So, without further ado, allow me to introduce you to Manifesto #1 :
'We shall meet life with full presence and power.'
Ahh, see, there's the connection to the post title. I had you wondering, I'm sure.
Being present. Fully present. This is something that society and I struggle with greatly. Put your phone down from wherever you're reading this blog and look around you - how many people around you are fully present into whatever it is they're doing and how many are looking at a device? Now, back to your device to read this. Don't worry, the irony of that isn't lost on me...
Here is a list of my electronic transgressions: (Am I seeking penance, oh blogging world? No. Yes. Maybe??)
1. Filling my mind from sun up to sun down with truly useless electronic information. lolsnaps, facebook, youtube, pinterest, and a multitude of nonsense blogs are my poison of choice.
2. Watching my children do truly remarkable and adorable things through the lens of my camera.
3. Checking the clock to see when my son will be napping so I can watch the next episode of whatever I happen to be binge watching on Netflix at the time.
4. Multitasking, or, multitexting? Is that a thing? It's got a ring to it. I'm going with it. Multi-texting people while simultaneously cooking dinner, answering my daughters' questions, listening to talk radio and bouncing the baby on my hip.
5. Pinning, pinning, pinning. The never ending stream of pins coming from my pin-feed (again, don't even know if that's a thing...) is astonishing. They clamor from my pinterest boards but shockingly never grace my craft room with their presence...
6. My ability to find and regurgitate quote after quote of The Simpsons to nearly any scenario I find myself in. I believe there's already a couple in here... sigh... help me someone... please?
7. Getting the grandiose idea to have a cell phone basket at my dinner table from none other than, drum roll please, a show I watched during one of my aforementioned Netflix-binge watching-sessions. Hypocrisy, thy name is Nicole.
And those are just the juicy bits I feel comfortable sharing...
My goal these past few months has been to be present. Easy? Negative. It has been a work in progress but I've made gains... I think? 'I hope it doesn't sound arrogant when I say I am the greatest woman alive!' We've become a society of believing that being online is helping us to think more but in actuality we are thinking less. Sure, we are shoving more into our brains at one particular time, but our retention of this material is most times shockingly low. And the quality of it is more often that not very poor. Or is that just me? 'Remember that time when... with that guy? Which was it? Oh no, that was that other thing... Ya know, I read somewhere that.... I don't remember who said it but...." Does anyone else find themselves saying things like that? Unless it's the Simpsons. Then I think I've already established that I'm a pro.
It's actually really difficult! But I find myself relishing moments that would otherwise pass me by. Small, innocuous things that may not seem like much to others. Hell, they didn't seem like much to me until I decided to stop running amuck in life with phone or ipad or t.v. or computer glued to my eyeballs. In them I've found true joy. I've learned things. I've found that when Eva focuses really hard on some new concept I'm teaching her about, her right eye wanders slightly to the right. Dallin crosses his toes when he is really comfortable - weirdo. (He's probably going to hate me for that...) Remy makes the most ridiculous strains and lunges with his mouth as I'm getting ready to nurse him. My neighbor down the street is the sweetest soul who takes too much upon her shoulders. Eva is crying out for more friends whilst I am content to be a homebody. All of these things may have passed me by had I not been present to notice them.
Too much sensory electronic information can dull our abilities to use our other faculties - empathy. Sympathy. Prudence. Tact. You can see it all around if you begin to look for it. In the harshly worded facebook comment or post someone puts up in frustration. In the smiling discrimination that is everywhere. In our repetition of the mantra, 'It's okay' when it's really not. Alternatively, in our inability to give the benefit of the doubt to those who truly deserve it.
Now, when I'm texting, I'm TEXTING. Only. Poor Eva. She is still getting used to the whole idea that she now has to wait to talk to me while I send a text - poor, depraved girl. When I'm playing with Eva or Remy, I'm with them. 100%. When I'm on the phone, I'm ON THE PHONE. For any of you that try to reach me on the phone and I NEVER seem to answer, this is why. I want to give you my full attention. If I can't do that, I let it go to voicemail. Now, if there's just a manifesto somewhere in there about calling people back...
Monday, June 1, 2015
On Motherhood
Aah, to return to the blogging realm. This used to be my one and only safe place, my haven, my respite from any and all difficulty that I was facing. Words have always been an outlet of expression for me - thoughts and feelings ballooning in the mind as they often do. Now, I find myself scrounging for spare time in between laundry, dishes, nap times and children crying listlessly -either in desperate pleas of "Moooooommy" or "Waaaaaaah!" they still resonate with one or all of the following messages:
1. You're starving me. I'm hungry.
2. I'm dirty. Clean me. Why haven't you cleaned me?
3. I'm tired; but will protest violently if you suggest quiet time or lie me down for a nap.
4. You're not looking at me. Entertain me.
5. You're still not looking at me.
I'm a new mom! Perhaps you can tell. Perhaps while seeing me, even without one of my two (two - such a small number for how much work they are!) children, you will be able to tell this fact. New moms are everywhere. Can you see it in the bags under our eyes, as we go about our day functioning on a mere handful hours sleep? Can you smell it on our clothes - in either fashionable garb in attempts to still be such or sweatpants in a sort of ragged defeat - the faint smell of sour milk, diapers, ointment? Can you feel it in our touch, as we constantly pat, tap and console inanimate objects as though we are always hearing faint wailing of children? Can you hear it in the desperate way we converse with another human being - wanting so badly to just be able to talk to some other grown human who has more coming out of their mouth than spit up or whining? We are new moms. It is our joy, it is our woe.
The words remain and plague me; tossing about my head like so much tumbling laundry that I should be attending to even now. Even now, as I dart back and forth from the computer to my son's bedroom where he naps restlessly, wrapping and calming him with such delicate hands one might think I was disarming a bomb.... Even now, hollering out to the pup who is locked in his crate (the only place I can keep him where my socks and shoes and chairs and scraps of coloring pages and food and grocery bags and children's toys and anything but his designated chew toys are safe from his incessant chewing) to "Hush!" and then back to Remington's crib fervently gasping, "Hush!" oh, wait, whoops, wrong phrase, wrong baby... Even now, feeling guilt as the clock tick tick ticks more and more minutes still of my daughter glued to the iPad when I should be stimulating her in some other, productive, mindful way.... Even through that all here I sit, aside me is my mug of London Fog tea (my secret indulgence) once steaming hot and now gone tepid, tapping away endlessly at the keyboard.
Mothers naturally feel enormous amounts of inadequacy. Whether we are comparing ourselves to our surrounding friends, the endless chorus of voices on Facebook, the tiring to-do lists of home life, the relentless urge to Pin every last perfectly poised craft with finesse and ease - we take far too much upon ourselves. And when we are stretched to our very last we are horrified to find that we, like the common elastic band, snap. Either we break in two, strung out beyond repair or we recoil, hurting those in our wake.
Which is why I believe that whatever your indulgence is, whatever your 'me' time is where you steal away to enjoy your other identity besides the all consuming title of MOM - don't let it slip away. You are mother first, yes, then wife/partner and friend and sister and a host of many other titles and responsibilities, but you are also you. You need to remember her, whoever she is and allow her a little time in the spotlight else she turn angry and bitter and rear her jealous head. (Poor Dallin will attest to that!) Days when the silliest of slights causes a Medusa-like demon to rise up and take our poor bodies host to her indignation.
This is normal. Right? Right. Yes, yes it is. Normal....
The truth that I have come to learn is that enduring motherhood is a trying and enlightening experience that never ends. We may yearn for the days when the kids are at school, napping, on a play date, gone to their grandparents for the weekend or whatever it may be - but motherhood never really ends. We will still be tidying their toys, thinking of them, worrying about them, gazing at their pictures and smiling, missing them in some way even while at the same time celebrating their absence. We are mothers now and forever. That is beautiful and suffocating at the same time. Revel in that. Accept it.
There is something horribly perfect about another human being needing you so literally to survive. Literally. Not like, "OMG, you literally scared me to death!" More as in literally this humans' life would cease to exist without its mother. This truth is beautiful in its' duality - it can both terrify yet calm you, enlighten yet depress you, bolster yet dishearten you, suffocate yet free you. Moms - what a job we hold! What a task. What a goal that we hold in our arms each day and night, kissing its boo boos, calming its fears, ceasing its tears, enduring its whines, enjoying its bright moments. The importance of this job would seem, to most, unparalleled in its importance. We should be proud and hold our heads high at the job we set out to do, every non-ending second of every non-ending minute of our lives.
If you believe that truth, then why NOT give you some time to be you? Sure, there will always be a long list of things to do for your family, but that list will always BE, will it not? So let it sit, trust me, it's not going anywhere. You're children will not blame you for 30 minutes away from them (or, if they do, they'll most likely forget... Celebrate the fickle nature of children for once!) and you will feel better for it. Do something for HER. Not something for others, as we so selflessly do time and time again. Something truly for HER. Let her come out. Let her hair hang down. Dance with her. Sing with her. Craft with her. Snack with her. Let her lead. She'll be glad you did.
And I'll continue to write with her.
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