Love lasts for the long haul

My 4 year old is seemingly incapable in speaking in a tone other than "indignant whine". She also can't be more than 18 inches away from me for longer than a single Peppa Pig episode (that's 9 minutes). She sits, leaning on me, and saying, in a plaintive cry "Momma. Momma. I neeeed yoou!"

I can be the household calendar manager, shoe and bill finder and remember-er of if the dogs have eaten. I answer the big questions kids ask about growing up, life, and love. The requests for finding lost toys, shoes, towels, on-and-on are never ending. The requests for snacks, but not that snack, activities, but not right now, and more and more are never ending. The requests for time and presence and ME feel never ending. 

And I end up feeling taken advantage of, invisible, disposable and unappreciated. Oh, and pissed.

Because, I believe and think to myself: "My experience in this world is my responsibility. I deem how others may and may not treat me. I decide how to engage and how to not engage with the challenges and triumphs of your life." And, sometimes I don't like how I'm treated by those I love the most. So I conclude that maybe it's my fault because I allow it to happen.

Parenting is one of those long-term endeavors. In which the immediate feedback is likely to be negative, negative, negative. In which the presence of negative feedback probably means I'm doing my job well. Or at least hopefully not fully f*cking it up. And, like all parents, I sometimes get feedback or information from peers, news articles, even family and friends, that tells me I'm not doing this right.

I don't set the right boundaries, I'm not this enough, or too that, or permit too much or too little of that. And it pisses me off.

Because there are those days. Those days. When the demands are incessant. The requests never-ending. The to-do list a gargantuan, herculean feat, impossible to complete.

The demands of work, even work I love, on me leave so much less to offer to the demands of home and family, and myself. I find myself at the end of my proverbial rope, dangling on snapped words, exasperated sighs and irritated grumbles.

I find myself desperate for a moment to myself, to breathe and rest, but also dreading the cost of that time off the hamster-wheel. For stepping off the hamster-wheel, indulging in that essential self-care, feels like it just jams up the conveyor belt of life that much more.

I find myself over the constant touching, needing, asking, pushing. I find myself over the need to set the boundaries, police screen time, vegetable and sugar consumption, bed times, wake up times, the never ending reminders to wipe-flush-and-wash. I find myself at a loss for patience and kindness. I find myself finding the many ways I am falling short. Shorter and shorter and shorter of the elusive goal of being a "good mom", however that is defined these days.

And so. Those feelings of being disposable, ineffective, taken advantage of, invisible are a confused mash-up of feeling judged, overworked, guilty, and yet responsible for allowing it all to happen in the first place.

But I also know a bad day, does not a bad life. I know that a few days of crankiness doesn't erase the efforts of silliness, love, engagement, support, joy, exploration. This is family. Every moment won't meet the litmus test of how we're "supposed" to live. It won't always meet our expectations. But if we're lucky, and I am, the cuddles outlast the cranky, and love always lasts for the long haul.

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Color me embarrassed...

I attended a birthday party with my kids recently. It was a children's party with water balloons, sprinklers, and lots of perfect raucous fun. 

Toward the end of the party, One Philly Son was speaking to a girl he'd been chummy with and her mother. His own birthday party was the next day, and he seemed to get along well with this girl, so he was telling her that she "had" to come to his party. We'd never met this girl before, so it was clear that wasn't going to happen, but us grown-ups were dancing that awkward dance of social nicety around our kids' blissful ignorances to it. "Oh, I'm sure she has other plans!" and "Thank you so much for the invitation!"

Then he said, all playful and mock-drama, "you know what happens if you can't come?  - this!" And he bounced a beach ball off my face.

Insert instant mortification here.

In an instant, I feared my persona had changed to the Mom who didn't set boundaries, the Mom who lets her son be a jerk, the Mom who was going to raise criminals and probably defend their deviant actions to the judge. I don't know the other Mom's true reaction, but this is how it felt to me.

It only feels like petty excuse-making to inform you that One Philly Daughter had been clinging to me for hours, that I'd just come off  2 business trips in 2 weeks, that I'd put in nearly 20 hours of overtime in those 2 weeks, that One Philly Daddy and I were hustling like crazy to coordinate the next day's party, that time lately had felt like a mad-dash and it felt like we were still falling woefully short.

In essence, I had nothing more to offer in that moment than a weak, "Ok, then."

Sure, I've observed the odd parent who would explode, "how dare you!" and grab him by the arm, and drag him out to the car, bellowing all the way about respect and behavior and "never coming back here again!". And sometimes I feel like that's the expectation that is expected. In my opinion though, that reaction is more about releasing the emotional pressure valve.

The parenting philosophies that resonate with me involve treating even our bratty kids with respect, because that's how I believe we teach them to act respectfully. I believe in walking through the emotional turmoil with them, as a guide and mentor. So if my kids are feeling upset, emotional, distraught I'm going to dive in and try to find out why, and let them determine a way to get out, feel through it. Because I'm not in the business of either telling them their emotions are wrong, or fixing them for them. Which also means I'm not in the business of demanding a certain set of feelings or behaviors from them. I want to teach respect and thoughtfulness and mindfulness and emotional intelligence by modeling it and teaching it. Not by demanding a series of behaviors without the context of explanation or meaning or understanding.

I've heard this type of parenting denigrated as being wishy-washy. Or indulgent. Or not demanding enough respect. But sometimes what parents are looking for is blind obedience, with any other reaction being treated as insolence and contempt.

Here's the thing: I put no value in blind obedience.

In the years I was a child, there was a lot of the "Honor thy father and mother" mentality. There was a strong "don't embarrass me" element, and the ever popular "children are to be seen and not heard", "if you're going to cry, I'll give you something to cry about", and "because I'm the parent" themes.

And those themes worked, to an extent. I knew to keep quiet, and to keep my thoughts and emotions to myself. It was easy to know when I'd done something wrong, but not always what I'd done wrong, why it was wrong, or how to do it better next time.

Here's what I wish I had more practice at as an "obedient child" : How to think for myself. How to trust myself. How to gauge appropriate and inappropriate behavior in others, and how to select friends based on that information. How to set boundaries for myself. How to stand up for myself. How to communicate my needs. How to handle conflict. How to stomach uncomfortable emotions.

Here's what I had loads of practice at as an "obedient child" : How to anticipate disapproval of my actions and how to adjust myself accordingly. How to be quiet. How to put on a smile when I wanted to cry. How to answer in the "right" way.  How to not rock the boat.

So, I certainly don't want my kids to think throwing things at people's faces is EVER acceptable, but I'd like them to learn MORE than that. Like to be able to hear that they've hurt someone's feelings or embarrassed them, and know how to take responsibility, apologize, make it right, and get right back to an open and loving relationship.

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Silence is golden. And even more rare.

I have a secret.

I love silence.

I was quite comfortable living alone and adored the sense of accomplishment I got when walking into my apartment (that I found and rented by myself), carrying groceries that I bought, with my money, that I earned at my job.

This glorious life was not without its flaws, as my life-on-my-own started in my mid-20's at the end of a 7-year-long-relationship that spanned 2 cross-country moves and was headed down the aisle. (Should anyone feel the need, you can tell that fella I hold no ill will, and am grateful for the strength it took for him to end something that wasn't serving either of us. I wish him everything we wouldn't have found together.) It included a toxic work environment followed by 5 months of unemployment and hours upon hours of soul searching and worry and fear and scrimping and saving. But also growing and learning.

Today, it is not the pain or soul stretching or sorrow or mourning that I miss. It is the silence. When I expressed to One Philly Daddy recently that I loved and missed silence, he merely shook his head in a bemused way and said something akin to "then you're in the wrong house, baby."

I love my family. I love the true honor it is to be a mother. I've loved and wanted a chance to do right by my kids like a yearning for water or air.

And yet. Sometimes I wish they'd shut the freak up. They're all high energy (kids - globally, and mine specifically) and the movement and noise and chatter can be... too much.

I would love a count of the number of times I hear the words "Mommy, can you..." in a given hour. Forget day. I'd break the counter.

This is what jumbles my nerves and hunches my shoulders and clenches my jaw and, well, you get the idea.

There is a severe lack of silence. Of the ability to hear one's self think. To finish a sentence. To get lost in a book. To allow my own voice to reach my own ears.

My children tend to narrate their lives. Every button they push in Minecraft, every minutiae of their thoughts, every. god. damn. thing. When they're not talking, they're making random chattery, clicky, humming, noises.

Don't get me wrong. I adore that they adore me and want me to see, hear, watch and do every-freakin-thing with them. The other day One Philly Daughter had a cold. And when I announced I needed to take a shower (you know, to go to work. In public.) she asked if she could come with me.  In the shower. One Philly Son has turned even video games into full contact sports involving jumping, yelling, ducking, bouncing.

Trust me, I know, remind myself often that one day, one proverbial day, I will miss this sound. I will wish for the sound of their nonsense and the noise of their toys bouncing off my furniture, their requests for (yet another) snack, their pestering of each other and the like.

And so. I do my damnedest to listen to their yammerings. I pay attention to the things that are important to them. Because they are important to me.

The silence I seek will fuel me. My blog, my work, my life, my eternal internal musings. (Its just who I am. I like to get lost in my own thoughts.) But never at the cost of my loves. For this is a time of learning and growing and soul searching too. And the frightening parts of the glorious quiet years are not lost on me. I was alone, terribly alone. And I am certain one day, I will look back on these years with great longing and nostalgia.

Despite all these awarenesses and acceptances, once in awhile, I say. With all kindness, adoration, respect and as little exasperation as I can muster :

"Will you please just stop talking for just a minute?"

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What my best looks like today....

I've just read another "unplug and pay attention to your kids" blog. And I love those. There are moments I'm struck by the finite time I have with my children while they are young. I'm struck by the fleeting moments that are being sucked up by Facebook, chores, work, commitments, and sometimes, just plain old boredom, irritation and exhaustion.


A few confessions:
I do not like to play Barbie's. Didn't when I was a kid, still don't. Worse, One Philly Daughter is a strict director, and sticks to her plot line. There's not a lot of room for creative license when playing with her.


I suck at video games, which One Philly Son excels at. Like, he's not good for a 6 year old, he's good. I've beaten him exactly once at Smash Brothers and when we play Mario Brothers, more times than not he carries me through a majority of the level. And, I don't mean figuratively. I mean his Mario picks up my Yoshi and carries it through the jumping and leaping and dodging. And he still beats every level. I have to beg him to stick to Worlds 1 and 2.


I'm not terribly entertained by many of the things that absorb my kids.


But. I am absorbed by them. And, so, there are many times I make the effort to play, be engaged and express interest in the things that interest them. Because the people are precious to me, even if I don't care much for the things that they care about, if we're being totally honest. And many times, I'm there. I play the game and we laugh at my gaffes. I play Barbie's and do as I'm told. And we build memories and connections and laughter.


I think that's what is lost sometimes in all these messages that implore us, lovingly remind us, but also, let's be honest, sometimes chide and scold us for scrolling Facebook, focusing on our jobs, cleaning our house, seeing our friends, or just plain zoning out.


Sometimes, checking out a bit can be a kind thing, to both myself and my kids. Sometimes, I'm at the end of my rope. Sometimes, a mild disinterest is kinder than a mean snap. Sometimes, indifference is kinder than anger. Sometimes, going through the motions is kinder than exploding with frustration. Sometimes the polite "mm-hmmm" is what I can offer.

And, no, I don't recommend making Facebook a priority over your kids everyday. Or ignoring your kids for work all the time. Or never making eye contact in favor for a screen or something else.

But, sometimes, the tank is empty. The nerves are frayed. The effort has been made and there's nothing left to offer.


So, when you see me rolling my eyes or blankly nodding, please don't doubt I adore my kids. Please don't question my dedication to my kids.


Sometimes, when it looks like I'm being a distracted, indifferent, unloving mother, I'm still offering my best self.

No rest for the weary, more or less....

I'm tired. I know, we all are. And not the "I'd kinda like to rest for a minute" tired, but the squinting at the computer, straining to understand the words on the screen, kind of achy, slow brain, bone tired.

And that's cool. Cause I should be. I have a recently new job (less than 7 months old) that I love. It invigorates and motivates and challenges and engages me. Awesome. So I put in extra hours. But those extra hours are noticed and appreciated. Also awesome.

I have 2 kids, 2 dogs, an active social calendar and a house to keep up with. There's  dance and gymnastics, end of school concerts and picnics, recitals, rehearsals, and teacher gifts. And don't forget summer camp registrations, payment due dates, health forms and emergency contact forms. Vacation plans, packing and again, payments and forms. Wedding plans, outfits, schedules, gifts, and celebrations. A yard that needs tending and an HVAC system that needs replacing. Car inspections and registrations. All also awesome.

All these converge together to create a blessed life. A messy life. A good life. A full life. A life that sometimes has me just feeling a tad numb to the bulk of all that needs to be done. And, most of the time, my reaction has been to just TRY HARDER. DO MORE. DIG DEEPER.

Ah, but Dr. Brené Brown has another idea. Instead of digging deeper, pushing harder, making it work, she suggests we just chill out. Another blogger reviews her thoughts on the idea here.

As put in her books, Brown suggests we  "get Deliberate, Inspired, and Going" - so instead of taking the malaise of a slow energy day, and forcing through the list of to-do's, she suggests we get deliberate in our actions (if you're tired and mindlessly scrolling Facebook, why not just be honest that you're pooped and do something that will actually invigorate you? instead of feed the malaise?), "inspired to make new and different choices" (is your schedule full of stuff you really don't care about? find a way to unravel your commitment to those things) and "get going" (take some action!).

I like this approach because it encourages mindfully being aware of what actually energizes your soul and investing your self and energy into that. It means being honest with yourself, and shaping a life that YOU want, not that someone told you to want or you think you should want. And if you're defining it, others' thoughts on that life become less and less important.

And, it also leaves room for how you define those things to change. What feels like a lifetime ago, I worked at a place that taught me a great deal. My time there ended abruptly, when they determined we were no longer a "good fit", but, as with many things that end, my time there, and the ending was a gift. A wise person there told me that, over time, the things that were important to him didn't really change, but the way there were expressed in life changed drastically.

A word like "fulfillment" may be important, but will mean vastly different things to a 20 year old, 30, year old, 40 year old. Add a few more variables regarding kids, homes, etc, and that definition changes even more. For me, fulfillment at 26 meant being single after a long relationship and really learning who I was. By 30 it meant investing in a wedding that One Philly Daddy and I could pay cash for, and a home that didn't max out our income. At 39 it means a career that offers flexibility, advancement, and stability, so I can provide for, but also have time to enjoy my family. Most importantly is that these are MY definitions. You should make and honor your own. No cheating!

So, yes, I'm tired. My house isn't as clean as I'd like it to be (read: not as clean as I think YOU want it to be, or as clean as my mother would like it, or as clean as my friend keeps hers. As clean as I'D like it to be.) but, I can handle that. My calendar is full, but I'm choosing what to fill it up with and what to leave out. My career is busy, but so, so, so fun and fulfilling for me.

I am busy, and I am tired. But I am choosing what's making me tired, and I'm also choosing what to let go of. I'm choosing how to rest my weary soul, so that it can thrive another exciting day in a life that I DESIGNED. That I chose and built along with One Philly Daddy.

Because, if you build your life for you, you can be freer to decide what can wait until tomorrow. Maybe your sink is full, but writing a blog will make you come alive. Maybe the clothes in your washer are starting to mildew, but your legs and lungs really need a run. Maybe the dust bunnies qualify for their own caucus, but you really want a cup of tea on the patio.

Here's the secret: that blog, run or cup of tea will give you MORE energy for those dishes, laundry and dust bunnies. Feeding your soul allows you to bring MORE to the table of your life. Pushing when you're tired means less to give, less joy, less presence and less YOU.

So, there's always going to be LESS and MORE of stuff. Chores or joy. You or someone else's standards. Things you want to do and things you feel you have to do. Things that fill you up and things that wear you out.

Together, let's try to decide in a deliberate, inspired way what we will build MORE or LESS of. Then, when you're tired, at least it'll be energy well spent on your dreams, instead of someone else's.

Blessed by my burdens and burdened by my blessings

Sometimes I have those days when the sound of my own children chattering, bickering, arguing, negotiating, debating, whining over every god. damn. thing. makes my skin crawl.

But, I'm only too aware that I'm actually blessed with all the riches in the world.

So I'm not saying my kids don't drive me nuts. They do. I'm not saying I don't have crap-tastic days when the work is too much, the mess too high, the noise too loud, and the demands too much.

I'm just also crystal clear that my burdens are in fact my greatest blessings.

So when crap starts to hit the fan, I like to think like this:

My kids have a toy to fight over
My kids have air conditioning to let out the door
My kids have food to refuse to eat
My kids have band-aids to put on their imaginary (and real) boo-boo's
My kids are driving me nuts, not someone else
My kids have beds to refuse sleep in
My kids have shoes they refuse to put on their feet
My kids have brushes they refuse to apply to their teeth

So yeah. Sometimes I lose my mind. And my blessings are burdens and my burdens are blessings.

I used to think I was aiming for a time when I'd never be stressed or burdened. But I think better is finding a way to see the blessings within the burdens.

It's easy to see our burdens, but happier to see our blessings. 

Class is now in session....

I’m trying to decide what I’m teaching my kids by accident.

Yes, the words that come out of my mouth are full of love, and value and support. But what does the rest of me say? One Philly Son suffers those extreme mood swings I mentioned last week. And when I expressed concern in the form of “where he would get these crazy notions” to a dear friend, she honestly and distinctly told me that my words might not be saying those crazy notions, but I might still be teaching him these things.

Eeep.

I’m listening to The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting by Brené Brown. (Whom I totally love. I am going to learn so stinking much from this woman.) She speaks of the difference between guilt and shame, of what we inadvertently teach our children about their self-worth. By how we treat ourselves.

Oh shit.

She states that what we ARE teaches, and that we can’t give our children what we don’t have ourselves.

Shit, shit, shit.

Her work is researching shame, compassion, courage, resilience, and many of those other amazing intangibles we desperately want to instill in our children, and I find I can only listen / read a little bit, and then not revisit her books for a few weeks. I think I’m just slowly integrating these ideas.

So. What we are teaches our kids what they are. And, our actions are more important than our words. The example she gives in the book goes something like this: Imagine your child makes a mistake. You say all the appropriate things – “Its ok, mistakes happen, I love you, we can fix this together, I made this mistake once too!” And your child hears all these messages of worthiness. But later that day, your child sees you make a mistake and you call yourself and idiot and your face shows an expression of anger and frustration and shame. And your child sees you not loving yourself, encouraging yourself, supporting yourself.

Shit.

This event is more powerful and impactful on your child’s conclusions about self-worth and value and worthiness than your words.

Effffffff………

Wait! I get it!

I mean……… That’s a cool idea! I’m so glad I learned this! I certainly had no intention of inadvertently teaching my children conflicting ideas about worthiness. My ever-present exploration of the art and science of boundary setting and self-care is ready to take another step! My intentions have been nothing but good, and my heart is in the right place, and I love my children. I’ve come by this mistake honestly, and now I can make efforts to improve. Awesome! I’m so proud of my effort and willingness to learn.

So. My kids are my best teachers. If you’ve read before, you know there are a few feelings swirling in me that I might rather my kids NOT learn. And my words alone are not armor enough against the Trojan Horse of my own emotional undermining of worthiness, love and value.

You see? To teach my children, first I must learn. For my children to believe, first they must see. So, to protect my children, instill in them a sense of worthiness, a sense of resilience, and sense of self and the ability to connect to others in this world, first I need to do those things myself.

See? We’re all learning here.