I really dislike New Year's resolutions. They never seem to actually get fulfilled anyway. But they always get mentioned this time of year. Obviously.
And the more I've thought about it, the more my resolutions seem so simple, and yet so difficult.
First, I want to let go of the guilt. All of the guilt.
Sometimes I'm so focused on my intensely sensitive child that I forget who she got those great big feelings from in the first place.
Her momma.
There is so much guilt.
Guilt for things I have zero control over.
Guilt that I was born a white, middle-class American; and thus will never deal with so many of the devastations I often have to shield myself from in order not to fall to pieces.
I have the privilege of never turning on the news or clicking on the link and being consumed by the horrors occurring in Africa, Syria, and elsewhere if I so choose. I can go about my typical daily life and simply pretend such things don't exist if I wish. And that makes me feel guilty.
I feel guilty I cannot save the world. That there are children who go through horrific events that I can't protect and shelter like I can my own babes. That there are parents who lose their children before their time and I can't save them from that pain.
I feel guilty about absolute first world issues.
That I have a freaking amazing husband and partner. Who is 110% my equal, never gets angry, knows how to stuff a cloth diaper and change a baby one handed and has never grumbled about it, etc., etc. So when other people complain that their spouses won't play with their kids or help clean up messes or even watch their kids so they can go out alone; I feel guilty. I feel guilty like I somehow should be ashamed my husband is truly amazing. Guilty that if I say anything at all in response I just sound like a pretentious bitch. Guilty that anyone has a partner who isn't their equal in the ways it matters.
I feel guilty that I get to stay home with my kids by choice. That I enjoy being home with my kids; even though I'm capable of doing other things. I refuse to say doing "more," because what can be more than raising my children to hopefully be lovely human beings and not sociopaths (but the juries still out, so there are no guarantees on that one!)? But while other people plead for a week, a day alone without kids, I rarely even want an hour. And then I feel guilty; like maybe I'm doing something wrong. Maybe I should want to be without them, and thus am intensely messing up somewhere.
I feel guilty for feeling resentment and frustration toward situations outside of my control.
I feel guilty that I cannot do it all.
I feel guilty that my own person always take priority in absolute last place when it comes to what I most focus on; but I know I'd feel more guilty if I didn't.
You guys, the guilt is strong. So strong. And immense. And heavy.
And the truth is, I just can't fucking do it anymore. I can't feel guilty for things I cannot control.
I can't feel guilty for the things I can control. No, sweet H, you may now own a mesh belly shirt with sparkly shit on it. I understand you want it and you think it is beautiful. I get it. My whole heart is sad that you're sad. But it is still not going to happen. And I will not feel guilty about that. I just cannot afford to anymore.
So I resolve that 2016 is the year that I just let it go. Because I have to.
And second, after the extremely difficult year of 2015, my tiny family needs some peace.
Our hearts need to heal after a year of so. much. loss.
2015 has brought so much grief to our little family in so, so many ways that we simply were never prepared for.
They say when it rains it pours, but in 2015 it was a fucking non-stop hurricane.
We survived. That's what matters. We survived.
But I hope 2016 brings more joy. More peace. More stability. That we are able to get our feet steadily back on the ground and in the direction we'd been headed.
I genuinely hope that the healthy arrival of sweet Doodle Bug helps us all find a little peace. That s/he soothes my soul in ways that are much needed. A tiny little rainbow born amongst the storm.
So no, I don't like resolutions. The truth is; I probably won't lose 50 lbs. I likely won't consume less coffee despite my best intentions. I'll still utilize my phone as a lifeline to the outside world even though I know better. I won't be any better at staying in touch with people even though it'd be nice.
But hopefully I can kick the guilt (what a useless emotion anyway) and find the peace. And if not; there's always next year.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
My kids don't have chores
There have been a lot of posts floating around the fb lately about chores.
How to incentivise and entice your children to get them accomplished. Money, ice-cream, time with mom and dad; you name it!
Or how to make the consequence for not getting them accomplished dire enough that it gets done. Groundings, loss of electronics, loss of parties or big holiday events - the lists go on.
Firstly, let me say I loathe the word "chore." The word itself just immediately makes me resent whatever the task may be. And it implies something that isn't fun and well, maybe not even necessary. And if it makes me grumpy, how can I expect my offspring to feel differently?
My kids don't have chores.
There are no lists. No incentives or repercussions.
Before you get your panties in a tizzy, let me explain.
No, my kids are not waited on with a crystal platter and a silver spoon; immune to the daily grudge of being a human.
The things most people list as chores and dole out like a prison sentences are - for us anyway - basic tasks that need to get done just because they're basic parts of life.
My kids are still at the ages where they're relatively eager to help out. I hope it lasts, but obviously I cannot know. I hope that by not making it seem like something to be dreaded they will continue to happily oblige me.
9 times out 10 when they see Momma cleaning or do laundry, they want to help, too. Or they want their own tasks. I can give them rags with a spray bottle of vinegar and water and ask that they wipe down the sink and toilet and they most often do. H loves helping to fold and put away laundry right now. They both are eager to dust and vacuum and and help with the dishes.
Obviously, their level of "clean" is not the same of mine, but I take what I can get because I don't want to turn them away from being such eager helpers.
Now don't get me wrong. Sometimes they certainly don't want to do these things because they're too busy playing or they're exhausted or whatever.
And that's that. I don't force it.
Sometimes I don't want to do the dishes or fold the laundry.
Guess what?
When I feel that way, I don't do it either.
I either do it at a later date or J will come home and do it. And not begrudgingly, he just does it. Because we are a family. And we all have times or days when we just don't want to get the basic things done, regardless. And the great part of being a family is that we are all so connected and united, that 9 times out of 10 we are more than willing to help each other out when we're just not feeling up to getting things accomplished.
If we are getting ready to leave and the kids just don't want to pick up the blocks, cool. I will typically do it for them. But it's because it's such a rare occurrence; it doesn't happen every day. They know it's okay to say, "Momma, I really don't want to do this right now. Can I do it later? Or will you do it for me?"
Just like sometimes I say don't want to make dinner. So we have take-out instead.
Of course there are times that it's pressing. Say, they took out the paints and had agreed beforehand to clean them up promptly. Well, if they didn't manage to do so and they didn't ask for help, then those paints are going to dry up. That's why we no longer have markers. I didn't maliciously not put the caps on them when they left them out; I simply didn't realize it hadn't been done and no one asked for help. So they dried up. And now they're gone. Lesson learned, we all moved on. No one was in trouble, it simply was.
And that's how our daily lives and "chores" work out. We're a team. We've modeled that since birth. I've never asked my children to make their beds and yet they do so on their own almost every day. Because they see Momma do it. Just like they wipe the toothpaste out of the sink or grab the broom if there are crumbs on the floor or immediately clean up a spilled drink. It's just always been a normal, calm part of their lives.
No rewards or punishments needed.
Again, who knows how it will pan out when they're 12. Maybe we will have to have some big discussions about why it is important we work together as a family so we don't live in filth and chaos. There may be some challenging stages, who knows.
But for now it works. My kids only know they word "chore" from other friends, and equate it to a way to make money or get in a lot of trouble. I don't want that personally for them.
So for now, my kids don't have chores. They're just a part of the family, and as such, we all work together to make things run smoothly and help each other out when needed. We don't all have great days, and that's completely acceptable. Sometimes we don't even have a great week. That's why we have each other as a team.
How to incentivise and entice your children to get them accomplished. Money, ice-cream, time with mom and dad; you name it!
Or how to make the consequence for not getting them accomplished dire enough that it gets done. Groundings, loss of electronics, loss of parties or big holiday events - the lists go on.
Firstly, let me say I loathe the word "chore." The word itself just immediately makes me resent whatever the task may be. And it implies something that isn't fun and well, maybe not even necessary. And if it makes me grumpy, how can I expect my offspring to feel differently?
My kids don't have chores.
There are no lists. No incentives or repercussions.
Before you get your panties in a tizzy, let me explain.
No, my kids are not waited on with a crystal platter and a silver spoon; immune to the daily grudge of being a human.
The things most people list as chores and dole out like a prison sentences are - for us anyway - basic tasks that need to get done just because they're basic parts of life.
My kids are still at the ages where they're relatively eager to help out. I hope it lasts, but obviously I cannot know. I hope that by not making it seem like something to be dreaded they will continue to happily oblige me.
9 times out 10 when they see Momma cleaning or do laundry, they want to help, too. Or they want their own tasks. I can give them rags with a spray bottle of vinegar and water and ask that they wipe down the sink and toilet and they most often do. H loves helping to fold and put away laundry right now. They both are eager to dust and vacuum and and help with the dishes.
Obviously, their level of "clean" is not the same of mine, but I take what I can get because I don't want to turn them away from being such eager helpers.
Now don't get me wrong. Sometimes they certainly don't want to do these things because they're too busy playing or they're exhausted or whatever.
And that's that. I don't force it.
Sometimes I don't want to do the dishes or fold the laundry.
Guess what?
When I feel that way, I don't do it either.
I either do it at a later date or J will come home and do it. And not begrudgingly, he just does it. Because we are a family. And we all have times or days when we just don't want to get the basic things done, regardless. And the great part of being a family is that we are all so connected and united, that 9 times out of 10 we are more than willing to help each other out when we're just not feeling up to getting things accomplished.
If we are getting ready to leave and the kids just don't want to pick up the blocks, cool. I will typically do it for them. But it's because it's such a rare occurrence; it doesn't happen every day. They know it's okay to say, "Momma, I really don't want to do this right now. Can I do it later? Or will you do it for me?"
Just like sometimes I say don't want to make dinner. So we have take-out instead.
Of course there are times that it's pressing. Say, they took out the paints and had agreed beforehand to clean them up promptly. Well, if they didn't manage to do so and they didn't ask for help, then those paints are going to dry up. That's why we no longer have markers. I didn't maliciously not put the caps on them when they left them out; I simply didn't realize it hadn't been done and no one asked for help. So they dried up. And now they're gone. Lesson learned, we all moved on. No one was in trouble, it simply was.
And that's how our daily lives and "chores" work out. We're a team. We've modeled that since birth. I've never asked my children to make their beds and yet they do so on their own almost every day. Because they see Momma do it. Just like they wipe the toothpaste out of the sink or grab the broom if there are crumbs on the floor or immediately clean up a spilled drink. It's just always been a normal, calm part of their lives.
No rewards or punishments needed.
Again, who knows how it will pan out when they're 12. Maybe we will have to have some big discussions about why it is important we work together as a family so we don't live in filth and chaos. There may be some challenging stages, who knows.
But for now it works. My kids only know they word "chore" from other friends, and equate it to a way to make money or get in a lot of trouble. I don't want that personally for them.
So for now, my kids don't have chores. They're just a part of the family, and as such, we all work together to make things run smoothly and help each other out when needed. We don't all have great days, and that's completely acceptable. Sometimes we don't even have a great week. That's why we have each other as a team.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
A little nature
H and B love all things outdoor and nature. So I make a pretty conscious effort to get them out into nature as often as possible (at least once a week, though often times more). I mean, we do outside for hours every day whether it just be the back yard or a park; but some good ol' hiking and creek stomping soothes the soul.
Well, their souls.
My soul just cries and is on high alert for snakes. Or spiders. Or anything that flies or crawls or moves in general. I am not one with nature unlike my sweet babes.
But my children don't know that. I'm fairly confident they could never tell you that I don't love insects and reptiles because despite my better judgment, I tend to jump right in with them and I hold those creepy crawlies without making a face because I have zero desire to pass my fears and biases off to them.
Man, oh man, though. It's not always easy.
They discovered a snake swimming in the wetlands. Fortunately there was a passerby who identified it as harmless while I was trying not to shriek at my kids to run the other way (the snake was in the middle of the water. My children were not. They were safe regardless. But still).
Per typical for my kiddos, H insisted on wearing a tutu to go hiking. B promptly lost his pants. And underwear. Don't ask.
But they spent 3 lovely hours getting wet and filthy and being great adventurers. H toted her little notebook with her, making note of anything she found to be interesting.
I'm telling you, time in nature heals all. There are no arguments or fits. No sassiness. No meltdowns. And on the upside, they both fall asleep at night immediately from shear exhaustion. It really is a win-win situation all around.
I'm not sure I'll ever love nature, despite my dream home being smack dab in the middle of it all. I mean, I'm certain in the event of the zombie apocalypse the zombies won't be my problem. The creepy crawlies that I'll encounter while living a nomadic lifestyle would be.
But regardless, my kids will always think I love nature just as much as they do. And in some ways I do; because I love anything that includes them and makes them happy. And nature never lets them down!
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Showing myself grace
The last month or so has been especially challenging with my dear, sweet H. She's always been my vivacious child who just needs a little more. And sometimes I'm able to give her that more, and sometimes, well, I'm just not.
I mean, I try. Wholeheartedly and indefinitely, I try. But I am also human. So sometimes I simply fail. And I'm trying to learn to give myself some grace, which is rather quite difficult. I can find it in my heart to give my kids grace all day long, but myself, nope. No way. No, siree.
And then I saw it in my daughter yesterday. As she flew her hands up in tears at the piano bench. "I can't practice this because I won't be perfect the first time! I will fail and I can't fail! I can't do this!!!" And then she threw herself sobbing, into my lap.
I've never told her to play the piano. I didn't say she had to play or instrument or insist on piano lessons. I've never requested she practice a day in her life. She was the one begging for a piano at two. Begging for lessons. Throwing herself in front of it to practice.
Just like gymnastics.
Just like reading.
Just like everything she does.
But I saw it.
I saw me.
The inability to accept failure.
The inability to fail.
I'd rather not do something at all than risk doing it less than perfect.
Which is all fine and dandy, except you know, I'm a mom.
And I wouldn't give that up for the world. And I also will never be perfect at it.
You can see the heartache in this, right?
How can I possibly expect this perfect creature who is so much like me in so many ways show herself a little grace, when it's something I've yet to learn to do myself?
H is in the throw of transitions. So many overwhelming transitions for such a vivacious perfectionist.
And she's at her half year age, which for some reason, are always more difficult for her.
So here she is. 5.5 years old. A perfectionist. A know it all. A do it all. A social butterfly.
Her friends are all in school all day. And though school is open to her if it is what she wants (she did go to school last year, remember?), it's not what she wants. She has no desire to be gone all day from me. And I concur. I'd rather have her home, too! But it's hard for her in ways I can't quite wrap my brain around. She has an organized activity nearly every day (cheer/hip hop, gymnastics, piano, soccer), but she still misses playing with friends every day. Which isn't an option when they're all in school until dinner time.
I've had people tell me that this stage wouldn't be so difficult if I just put her in the school. It'd be the best for everyone.
But I know better.
It wouldn't "fix" anything. In fact, it would make it that much harder. I know my kid way too well. If it's not her idea and she's not fully ready, it's not going to be pretty or pleasant or fun. And that will simply never be in her best interest and I am so fortunate that I don't have to force such an issue. I can give her all the freedom, space, and time she needs for anything.
Plus, she's getting a baby sibling in roughly 4 months. She's so incredibly in love with Doodle Bug (and hoping that there are more to come after, ha!). And even though she only shows the excitement, I know there has to be a little underlying anxiety under there. I mean, she just watched Mommy puke her guts up for nearly 15 weeks. Momma couldn't pick her up the same as she used to. Momma lacked so much energy and cried way too much at the drop of a hat. And probably the very worst, Momma's patience is shot. It's hard and trying to muster the patience needed to gently and peacefully mother such a precocious child some days. And some days I miserably fall short. Though most days I succeed. But I've failed more than I'd care to admit.
That's hard to handle when you're only 5. Hell, it's hard to handle at 27, too! And I read every book and article in order to make those moments and days run as smoothly as possible and keep things to minimal stress and anxiety for her and B, but again, I'm not perfect.
So yes, the past month or so has been so, so very challenging. But it will get better. That's simply how it works. And we will all appreciate the smoother days just that much more because we've had to trudge through those harder moments.
In the meantime, I will work on showing myself some grace and hope, that like most other things my kids watch me do, say, and model so strongly for them, they will also note that Momma can give herself a little mercy and leniency for her own mistakes, so it's okay for them to do the same for themselves.
I mean, I try. Wholeheartedly and indefinitely, I try. But I am also human. So sometimes I simply fail. And I'm trying to learn to give myself some grace, which is rather quite difficult. I can find it in my heart to give my kids grace all day long, but myself, nope. No way. No, siree.
And then I saw it in my daughter yesterday. As she flew her hands up in tears at the piano bench. "I can't practice this because I won't be perfect the first time! I will fail and I can't fail! I can't do this!!!" And then she threw herself sobbing, into my lap.
I've never told her to play the piano. I didn't say she had to play or instrument or insist on piano lessons. I've never requested she practice a day in her life. She was the one begging for a piano at two. Begging for lessons. Throwing herself in front of it to practice.
Just like gymnastics.
Just like reading.
Just like everything she does.
But I saw it.
I saw me.
The inability to accept failure.
The inability to fail.
I'd rather not do something at all than risk doing it less than perfect.
Which is all fine and dandy, except you know, I'm a mom.
And I wouldn't give that up for the world. And I also will never be perfect at it.
You can see the heartache in this, right?
How can I possibly expect this perfect creature who is so much like me in so many ways show herself a little grace, when it's something I've yet to learn to do myself?
H is in the throw of transitions. So many overwhelming transitions for such a vivacious perfectionist.
And she's at her half year age, which for some reason, are always more difficult for her.
So here she is. 5.5 years old. A perfectionist. A know it all. A do it all. A social butterfly.
Her friends are all in school all day. And though school is open to her if it is what she wants (she did go to school last year, remember?), it's not what she wants. She has no desire to be gone all day from me. And I concur. I'd rather have her home, too! But it's hard for her in ways I can't quite wrap my brain around. She has an organized activity nearly every day (cheer/hip hop, gymnastics, piano, soccer), but she still misses playing with friends every day. Which isn't an option when they're all in school until dinner time.
I've had people tell me that this stage wouldn't be so difficult if I just put her in the school. It'd be the best for everyone.
But I know better.
It wouldn't "fix" anything. In fact, it would make it that much harder. I know my kid way too well. If it's not her idea and she's not fully ready, it's not going to be pretty or pleasant or fun. And that will simply never be in her best interest and I am so fortunate that I don't have to force such an issue. I can give her all the freedom, space, and time she needs for anything.
Plus, she's getting a baby sibling in roughly 4 months. She's so incredibly in love with Doodle Bug (and hoping that there are more to come after, ha!). And even though she only shows the excitement, I know there has to be a little underlying anxiety under there. I mean, she just watched Mommy puke her guts up for nearly 15 weeks. Momma couldn't pick her up the same as she used to. Momma lacked so much energy and cried way too much at the drop of a hat. And probably the very worst, Momma's patience is shot. It's hard and trying to muster the patience needed to gently and peacefully mother such a precocious child some days. And some days I miserably fall short. Though most days I succeed. But I've failed more than I'd care to admit.
That's hard to handle when you're only 5. Hell, it's hard to handle at 27, too! And I read every book and article in order to make those moments and days run as smoothly as possible and keep things to minimal stress and anxiety for her and B, but again, I'm not perfect.
So yes, the past month or so has been so, so very challenging. But it will get better. That's simply how it works. And we will all appreciate the smoother days just that much more because we've had to trudge through those harder moments.
In the meantime, I will work on showing myself some grace and hope, that like most other things my kids watch me do, say, and model so strongly for them, they will also note that Momma can give herself a little mercy and leniency for her own mistakes, so it's okay for them to do the same for themselves.
Monday, September 14, 2015
The good stuff
There have been so many feels lately. So much that I could say, but don't even know where to start. This year has definitely proven to be the most challenging for me overall. If it's not one think it's another. The only upside is that I know eventually, it has to get better. And until it does, I will just focus on the good stuff.
Because there is always good stuff.
Although they may drive me crazy sometimes, and although one of them may or may not have me questioning so many parenting decisions right now, there is always good when there is H and B. Because they are fantastic and vivacious and hilarious. And even when I don't intend to, they always make me smile.
There is so much beauty in these little souls. Even though I'm fairly certain I'm screwing this gig up most of the time, they keep telling me they love me and that I'm the best momma ever. I don't point out that I'm the only one they have any experience with, ha.
Because there is always good stuff.
Although they may drive me crazy sometimes, and although one of them may or may not have me questioning so many parenting decisions right now, there is always good when there is H and B. Because they are fantastic and vivacious and hilarious. And even when I don't intend to, they always make me smile.
There is so much beauty in these little souls. Even though I'm fairly certain I'm screwing this gig up most of the time, they keep telling me they love me and that I'm the best momma ever. I don't point out that I'm the only one they have any experience with, ha.
Friday, September 11, 2015
Rainy Days
I'd be a liar if I said mothering wasn't the absolute most emotionally-rewarding, exponentially gratifying experience of my life.
I'd equally be a liar if I didn't say that mothering is also the most emotionally-depleting experience of my life.
But it never fails, when God, Mother Nature, whomever, knows that I'm using my very last reserves, they call up those moments that soothe your soul and balance everything out.
Like rainy days. Perfectly gray, dreary days that have so much joy in them if you take them time to let it happen.
Yes, you may play in the rain.
Yes, you may splash in the puddles.
Yes, you may be a princess while you do it.
Yes, you may be a samurai while you do it.
Yes, you are filling up my cup so high with love and gratitude just by letting me watch.
Friday, August 28, 2015
4 yr and 5.5 yr photos
I tend to always have my camera on me. Or in the car at the very least. So when we ran to pick up milk and eggs this morning and I spotted these two darlings in the review mirror holding hands and giggling, my obvious thought was, "I need to take their picture!"
Unfortunately, it's really frowned upon if you trying taking photos while also operating an automobile on the highway, so we drove down the road and I unloaded them while declaring, "Time for some amazing 4 year old and 5.5 year old pictures!" Though really, they love having their pictures taken, so I don't typically have to jazz them out about it unless they're in a particular mood.
Below are the results. Because. Good grief. The worst photographer in the world would still take awesome photos with these two as their models!
Unfortunately, it's really frowned upon if you trying taking photos while also operating an automobile on the highway, so we drove down the road and I unloaded them while declaring, "Time for some amazing 4 year old and 5.5 year old pictures!" Though really, they love having their pictures taken, so I don't typically have to jazz them out about it unless they're in a particular mood.
Below are the results. Because. Good grief. The worst photographer in the world would still take awesome photos with these two as their models!
No, this isn't staged. They actually walk like this 3/4 of the time!
That face!
Do not be fooled by this petite beauty. She is woman, and you WILL hear her roar!
This is all them, too! I just asked if they'd stand together.
They both always insist on getting behind the camera. They both always want to photograph me, ha. But when you haven't showered in 3 days you certainly need a cuter model, hence Mr. B! (Don't judge, both kids are bathed and well dressed at least!)
We call these gems "out takes." Or them just being themselves...
How is this sweet baby 4!?
This was the least blurry of B's turn. He finds it more fun to constantly move the camera while clicking, haha!
Again, all them. Jeez Louise, they're the best!
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Photos from August
We've had a fun-filled two weeks. I'd tell you all about it, but really, I got to spend it with these cuties, so that pretty much 'splains it all. And looking at a gazillion photos of them is way more fun than reading anything I could write!
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