Mamas, teach your children well…
If there is one lesson I learned early in my life it was that being myself was more important that being “accepted”. I hear stories of women with friends who tear each other down and I don’t get it, because if my friends were like that they wouldn’t be my friends.
It doesn’t matter who you are or what you do, someone is going to find fault. If you’re not pretty enough, slim enough, or smart enough. If you’re too pretty, too slim, too smart. Supermodels get picked apart as easily as the awkward girl down the street. I told a friend today that we don’t like in an accepting society, as much as we purport ourselves to be accepting. We live in a judgmental society.
When your child is picked on, I feel it’s important to explain to your child that there will always be someone who finds fault with them. Someone will always be mean. Someone will always be critical. It’s not your child’s fault that those people feel they have a right to judge. The best you can do is set an example of acceptance and tolerance and teach your children the same.
Little girls, in particular, are bombarded with messages about how they should look every day. And now I see it slowly creeping in on little boys as well. Girls should be feminine and attractive. Boys should be athletic. But now boys should be attractive too but still not quire to the degree it’s forced upon girls.
For the longest time the media would show an attractive woman married to an overweight oaf. Still does. Did you ever stop to think what the message to our children in that is? As much as I’d like to believe that it means a person should look past a person’s appearance, it doesn’t seem to be that. What it seems to be is that if you’re attractive and smart, you might be lucky enough to land an idiot. Ugh.
Where is the equally matched couple in a supportive, nurturing relationship? Haven’t seen one. It doesn’t make for good ratings.
I find fault with the media. With the stereotypes. With the belief that in life there is only “one right way” and it’s the way of the person who is criticizing you. I find fault with the belief that women have a right to pick apart other women. I find fault with men and women for making women objects. I find fault with women who accept that they are objects. I find fault with parents who don’t raise their children to respect themselves and each other.
What I don’t find fault with is the individual who does something different than I do. I’m a firm believer that there are multiple ways to get to the finish line. As long as you’re not cheating yourself or others on your way, then you can get there however you want and I’ll still respect you for finishing.
Mamas please, teach your children acceptance. Become more accepting. Become more positive. Become less focused on looks and more focused on talent and intelligence. Boost your child’s confidence in what they do well. Don’t force them to be someone else. And if they’re not accepted by someone make sure they know that there will always be times when they’re not accepted, but that it’s not on them. It’s on the people who don’t accept them. Set a good example and they will follow your lead. You are their first role model and the one that lasts their whole life. You will be the voice in their head for decades. And because of this, you have a chance to change the world. One child at a time.
“You raised the monster….”
I worked for two years at a company where the mom was the CEO and the son was the V.P. of Sales. That line was a common refrain when co-workers would gripe about their epic verbal assaults on each other. We had no sympathy for the CEO when her son started trying to oust her. After all, she had raised him that way. His personality didn’t sprout up overnight. He suffered from a severe case of feeling entitled, because he was spoiled his whole life. She taught him to get what he wanted, regardless of whom he had to step on to get it. And, one day, she was just one more rung on the ladder that was his climb to his own little empire.
See, here’s the truth, people. You raise your children. Your children are your responsibility. One of your main responsibilities as a parent is to provide your children with the life skills to become established adults. I’ve seen it far too often in the last decade or so, helicopter parents who can’t (or won’t) allow their children to grow up, but then complain when they don’t move their asses out of the house and become self-sufficient.
Seriously! That’s not a fail on the part of the child, it’s a failure on the part of the parent. Children need room to grow and chances to screw up (or succeed). Asking a thirteen year old to schedule a routine doctor’s appointment is (ohmigod!) reasonable. Giving a child over 5 chores is reasonable. Not commiserating with your kid when the teacher is being “mean” is a good life lesson. Mean people exist in the world, whether or not the teacher is mean is almost moot, because either way, your kid will eventually need to learn how to deal with people of all types.
You can’t cave in to every whine your child makes. You can’t do everything for them. You have to be able to recognize what your child is already capable of and take steps to build on that. You have to introduce new skills to their current set. Think of the things you handle on a daily basis as an adult and try to incorporate little life lessons that your child can benefit from.
You also can’t shield them from life. I remember when finances were bad in my house growing up. My mother and father wouldn’t hide it from me. They didn’t give me all the gory details, but they were honest about when we could and could not afford something. When I was seven I was already conscious of what things cost. I would ask for a treat at the store and my mother would set a limit (say, a dollar). I would choose something, but then I’d see something else I liked. I would be forced to choose between them. I would always choose the one that was less expensive. Usually, this resulted in numerous exchanges for lesser costing items until I settled on a dried fruit leather strip that cost $0.17.
It was a life lesson that I’ve carried into adulthood. Not just of tradeoffs, but also that you can usually find something to brighten your day when you need a “treat” that’s still well within your budget.
As I got older, I got more details. More information. What my parents shared with me changed as my capacity to understand and reason changed. I learned to ask questions; to gather as much information as I could before making a decision. I learned the power of critical thinking. I learned the power of thinking for myself.
You have to teach your children kindness, respect for others, self-respect. You have to teach them to dream big and be accepting of different people. You have to teach them to be committed to their goals, to be strong in the face of adversity, but still considerate of all parties involved. Teach them manners and courtesy. Teach them humility and humor. Teach them to be responsible and trust worthy, but don’t raise them to be gullible. Present them with information and critical thinking skills and let them make their own decisions.
Sure, I wasn’t an ideal kid… but I was responsible. I knew what was expected of me. And I became a reliable, established, responsible adult. My parents raised me before the age of the helicopter parents and for that I am thankful.
I hope I can do half as good of a job with my son because I certainly don’t want to have to deal with a monster later on in life. It bears repeating that I don’t think you have a right to complain about where your child ends up unless you’re really certain you’re not the reason they turned out that way!
Just another thought of the day.
We are restrained by our responsibilities on a daily basis. Work. Chores. There seems to be a never-ending list of things that need to be done. There is never enough time and, often, there is a lack of patience. At the height of my frustration, at my wit’s end last year, buried under school work and the pressure of being everything to everyone while still being a good mom, my son’s father pointed out that I never seemed to be in a good mood. I came home from work grumpy, anxious to tackle my homework, and, often times, wouldn’t even have a smile for the little boy so excited to see me.
I was taking life too seriously. You know the old joke “don’t take life too seriously, no one gets out of it alive”? It has rung through my head for months now. It was a turning point in my life, this realization that I make time for all of the “responsibilities” in my life but not for the things I really needed for myself. I needed time with my son. I needed time with my son’s father. I needed time with my friends. And I needed time with myself.
If we are lucky enough to be touched by a moment that makes us appreciate life more it is important not to let it pass us by. I’ve been lucky in that I’ve experienced a number of life changing moments the last few years. The more I experience, the more I appreciate what I have in my life. Not things. People. Moments.
Our world seems so much scarier than the world I grew up in. News outlets would have you convinced that we’re on the brink of the end. That there is nothing good left to come. I let all of this pass through me and refuse to let it touch me as much as possible. I filter everything I hear and see through a lens of “does this promote happy in my life?”. Anything that fails to meet the standard is dropped like a hot potato.
We struggle. I struggle to balance work, school, and home. My son’s father struggles with pursuing his passion and the work he was born to do with the need to contribute to the household finances. I support him in following his dream and, while it is admittedly rough sometimes, I would much rather he follow his dream than have to watch him wilt and wither in a job he hates so that we could have more money. Money, after all, is not my main concern in life. The world tells me it should be and I tell the world to stuff it where the sun don’t shine. Sure, I complain occasionally about my job. But I appreciate that I have a job that can enable our family to live comfortably while he pursues his dreams and I finish school. Our son wants for nothing. He is a happy, vibrant child who delights in the world around him.
He doesn’t care about money. While it is impossible to, as an adult, not care about money at all, I’ve adopted his belief that it certainly isn’t a majorly important factor in our lives. He moves forward, full steam ahead, and all he cares about is that Mommy or Daddy is there to kiss his boo-boo when he trips over his own feet or runs into a shoe display at a sports store (yes, he moves THAT full steam ahead).
He cares that Daddy is home with him while Mommy is at work and vice versa. He cares that we are happy. He cares that we are together.
As his parents, we care that he be happy and that we make life as fulfilling for him as possible. It can’t always be perfect, obviously, but we try to take it in stride. We have eating issues, potty training issues, sleep issues, but we are a happy family. I see no reason to disrupt that or to allow my son’s father to disrupt it by doubting the path he’s chosen career-wise. It’s one thing to change your mind, it’s another thing to allow a rough patch to change it for you.
What does any of this have to do with anything?
Probably nothing… but as I said, when you have a moment that changes your perspective in life, you need to pay attention to it. Today I had another moment that reaffirmed my Live, Laugh, Love mind set. Life is here to live and borrowing trouble gets us nowhere. Trouble will find you when it needs to, until then, leave it be.
I’ve read a lot of blogs the last few years. Some were funny. Some were sweet. Some were dumb as hell and some were witty. None of them managed to make me laugh, make me feel connected to a child I never knew, or make me cry the way this one did.
I stumbled across this blog quite by accident. I read the synopsis of Donna’s Cancer Story and wondered if I should even read it. I don’t like to set myself up for tears if I can avoid it but in that moment of hesitation I thought “if that child and her family could live it… if her mother had the strength to blog about it… I can have the fortitude to read it. To absorb it.” In other words, I could have the ability to let it touch me.
The last post in Donna’s story requests that her story be shared. So I am going to do just that.
But first I want to remind my readers, as surprising as it is that I have readers, that you only get this one life. You get to choose. You get to choose between enjoying your life and mourning it. You get to choose to be supportive of your family or negative about it because it impacts you. You get to choose to love and live and dream. You get to choose whether or not you want to be chained by your responsibilities or freed by them.
I choose to allow my “struggles” to be minor bumps in the ride, not derailments. I choose to support those that I love. I choose to be happy with my choice to support them, even if it means I have a few “bad” days. I choose to love with all my heart, to hand out extra chances, to always have a smile for the little boy so happy to see me, and to never let a day pass without counting my blessings. I choose to honor those that are in my life as well as those who have passed. I choose to acknowledge that there is always someone out there who is having a harder time than I am. I choose to look with open eyes at the world around me and I choose to see the beauty instead of focusing on the ugliness.
I hope, my dear readers, that Donna’s story will help you gain the perspective to Choose Hope, Live until you die, and see the good in your own life. Focus on the good, dear readers, and the bad truly won’t feel so painful. Do good things for good reason, no reason, or any reason at all.
Be happy and try to make those around you happy. Make time for friends, family, and yourself; because life is more about whom we have around us than what we have around us.
I apologize if this post is more disorganized than usual… tears tend to scatter my brain just a wee bit. I supposed I could have posted just about being happy that my child is healthy. That I appreciate his tantrums more because he is able to have them. But I was already happy about all of that. I am already appreciative of how easy we have it with our son, even when he is being difficult. Donna’s story touched me more deeply than just hugging my child tighter. I have an amazing family. I have a son who is beautiful and bright. I have my son’s father, who is equally beautiful and bright. I have parents and sisters and nieces and nephews and friends whom would support me no matter what I did.
We all get lost in our own struggles from time to time. Because they are our struggles, they will never be trivial to us. We feel the struggle, the pressure, the anxiety, while we are living it. It is real and tangible to us. I would never use someone else’s struggle to minimize or negate a struggle I or someone else was feeling. But, my dears, perspective is the key word for many of my posts. You can learn from the struggles of others. You can gain perspective into your own pressure and anxiety.
I learned from this family’s experiences. I learned that relationships can endure, families can survive the unimaginable, and we can choose hope. You can learn to accept your struggle while it is occurring, is lessened or magnified by the perspective you choose to view it with. It is impacted by the attitude you approach it with and the outlook you apply to it.
In the end, when all is said and done, I hope that I have the ability to say that I approached the majority of my difficult experiences with a positive outlook and a sunny perspective. I hope that all of you can as well.
I hope. And that hope will not end because of a rough patch. That’s about all I can say. I hope that this rambling post did Donna justice in the way it was shared, but I fear that there are no words from me that could ever quite achieve such a lofty goal… and I am humbled in that knowledge.
My baby boy is going to turn 3 next week. That means I’ve been a parent for roughly 1/11th of my life and 1/6th of his first 18 years. (see, no polynomials needed – just sayin’). Despite the money I’ve invested in parenting books, there is no manual for the first 18 years – anymore than there is a manual for the following decades. I’ve learned many things through trial and error. He’s a healthy, happy child and I feel like we’re doing well with him.
To be completely honest I know that a lot of what is involved with raising our child is common sense. It seems like there are things that shouldn’t need to be said in the parenting guides. Don’t try to dry your child in the microwave would be one of the obvious ones.
As a parent, sometimes I hear about a product recall and I just shake my head. Sometimes it’s because I’m disappointed in the company but many, many times it’s because I’m disappointed in the parents. Drop side cribs – totally upset with the companies for switching to cheap, flimsy plastic claw catches when the “candy cane” type of rails worked for generations. Because of the design of the “candy cane” type rails, it wasn’t possible for the types of suffocation accidents like those that occurred with the cheap plastic catches to happen. I place the blame for those accidents squarely on the manufacturer for making an inferior product.
The most recent recall of Bumbo seats, however, is one of those ones where all I can think is “What were the parents thinking?”. According to the Consumer Product Safety Commission over 4 million Bumbo seats have been sold in the US. There have been roughly 50 reported cases of injuries – again, no polynomials needed – due to an infant sliding or wriggling out of the seat and landing on their head. Skull fractures are a serious injury.
But is the manufacturer really to blame here?
We have a Bumbo. It was really a fantastic product for our son when my arms needed a break. The first thing I noticed about it though was that it doesn’t have restraints. Because it doesn’t have restraints we never used it unless we were within arm’s reach of our son. It wasn’t a high chair or a place to put him where we could set him down and then leave him alone. For us, it was more like the changing table. You put him up there to change his diaper, but you never step away from him while he’s on it. We never used it on top of a table for the same reason.
He played in it, he looked at books in it, and he even ate in it. All those times I was seated on the floor directly in front of him. It never occurred to me to try to place it on a table, because the seat itself, while sturdy, is made of foam – one really good strong kick or wriggle from him and I could easily imagine it falling off a table.
Like any other parent, there were times when I needed a short break. But my need for a short break never overwhelmed my common sense. If I needed to use the restroom and didn’t have anyone to sit with my son I’d pick him up and put him in his playpen. I never would have left him in the Bumbo alone.
I suppose I should be surprised that there were only 50 injuries (a very small percentage of the 4 million sold) involved, because it seems that common sense is a rare commodity these days. I’m glad the company is offering a restraint system for the Bumbo, but I don’t think that’s going to solve the problem of injuries occurring with their product. Solving that problem would require a return of general common sense to the population.
Now, if you’re a parent, you might be outraged at this point. A few people may agree with me but many others will likely get upset and defensive and tell me that “even one injury from a child’s product is too many”. To those parents I’m going to stick out my tongue in a child-like manner. The world is a dangerous place. Sure, you buy BPA free bottles for your child – but have you checked them for BPS? You cannot expect the government or product manufacturers to protect your child from all harm. In fact, as much as I respect the CPSC for trying to keep consumers safe, I still believe they should be the backstop for safety. A parent has the responsibility to use products in a safe manner; to inspect them for flaws or potentially dangerous conditions and to pay attention to their children. The parent is the first line protector of their child. It’s a huge responsibility and, unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be one that many people take seriously.
You are the person who is going to teach your child how to stay safe in this world. You are the person that will guide them and provide them with the cliff notes version of the manual for life. The world isn’t going to do it for you. If you can’t foresee the potential danger of situations or products how will you teach your children to watch for danger?
Now, that being said, it is sad that these children were injured because their parents used a product in an unsafe manner. It is even sadder that these parents involved might not learn a very important lesson from this. Particularly where children are involved you must question the safety of all products.
I consider myself a conscientious parent and consumer. I don’t think I’m unique in that. I certainly hope I’m not unique in that. But just in case I am, I hope that people who own a Bumbo will request the restrain kit that’s being offered, because your child really shouldn’t have to pay the price for your lack of common sense.
Just my thought of the day –
We’ve all heard the phrase “it can always be worse”. I don’t feel, however, that as Americans we really think about how privileged we really are. Every day I hear people who are deeply, deeply unhappy with what they can’t have. Very few people seem to take the time to be thankful for what they do have. One of my personal development epiphanies occurred in my teens. It was the realization that Americans are not alone in the world, despite the fact that we use up more than our fair share of the world’s resources.
That realization came with a deeper knowledge of how others in the world live and how everything in this life truly boils down to a matter of perspective. We complain (myself included) about the high price of groceries while there are millions of people in this world who lack access to balance nutrition. Our supermarkets would likely astound them. And what do we do with this abundance of food? We overeat. We are now the most obese country on the planet.
We buy bottled water despite having one of the most advanced water treatment and delivery systems in the world. We have access to fresh water every minute of every day. Turn on the faucet and there it is. No trekking to a river that people bathe and pollute with waste to obtain drinking water.
We drive everywhere. Walking is now relegated to “exercise”. Ditto for Biking. For the majority of us, walking or biking is a luxury of time as opposed to an effective means of transportation.
Arguments about our health care system aside, as imbalanced as access may be, we all have access to at least emergency care. If we are in an accident or injured we can be assured that, even if we go bankrupt from the emergency room bill, there’s a good chance we’ll survive. Because of our access to food and clean water something as simple as a cut on our foot isn’t likely to kill us. For millions of people an infected cut is a serious illness. Here we can wash it in clean water, slather on some antibacterial ointment and put a bandage on it. We have easy access to basic medical supplies.
Whether you’re living in a mansion, a studio apartment, your parent’s basement, or something in between, you have a roof over your head. Access to quality shelter is something I see people take for granted every day. Their bathroom is ugly. Their back yard isn’t big enough. They don’t have enough closet space or their kids have to share a bedroom. Do us all a favor and learn to tell yourself “I don’t like my bathroom, but I’m thankful I have one!”.
The other day I was frustrated by a slow draining bathroom sink. A bottle of Drano later and I was thankful to have a sink that actually drains again. Then I thought, “Hell, I should be thankful to have a sink. And plumbing… and running water… and a home to contain it all.” And I was.
Money is a big complaint I hear all the time. It used to be something I complained about. There never seems to be enough money. I learned something though. You can’t take it with you. You can’t take anything you buy with you, really. Yes, money provides for the roof over our heads, the running water in our sinks, and the food in our bellies. Beyond the basic necessities, everything else is gravy. You have a computer, a cell phone, an iPad, a playstation, a tv… the list goes on and on. Check out http://bonsaimovie.com/ or google microfinance loans.
The most surprising aspect of these loans is how little money people are asking for to buy seeds, or a sewing machine, or fix the roof on their homes. Many of the ones in the Bonsai People documentary are less than I pay for my monthly cell phone bill.
If you need perspective from a cuter standpoint; check out the Babies documentary. Not only is it beautifully done, but it pulls you in. You see that babies are babies the world over. They are not born to hate. They aren’t born to be greedy about material things. They don’t use material objects or money to feel better about themselves. We are born happy and loving and curious. It is only through time and experience that our priorities shift.
If you watch, make sure you watch it a second time with a more critical eye. Compare and contrast how the babies live and grow up. It might not dawn on you that there are a few scenes where how the babies are taken care of would be persecuted here in the states. But, the perspective through which you watch the babies grow up makes it all perfectly acceptable. And it should be.
The point of all of this is not to make you feel guilty. Though, if you feel guilty it is because you’ve identified something within your own life that your mind feels you should feel guilt about.
This is merely an exercise in perspective. A gentle reminder of how good you have it. What you are unhappy over many people would be thankful for. Yes, you have the right to complain, but you also have a responsibility to acknowledge everything you’re fortunate enough to have.
Approach life with enthusiasm. Be grateful for all that you have and can be because of where you were born. Protect the rights of future generations to have a happy childhood. And try to live, if even for a few moments a day, as if you were an infant. Be happy. Be loving. Be curious about the world around you. And try to maintain perspective when you’re feeling overwhelmed or unhappy. After all, It can always be worse.
I’m going to take a break today from discussions about food. I’m sure there’s a collective sigh of relief from all my readers, the few of you that are out there. Today I want to talk about family and being thankful.
I was blessed with two sisters and, although we didn’t get along all the time, we’re cornerstones in each other’s lives now that we’re adults. I don’t know what I’d do without my sisters.
I was also blessed with two loving and dedicated parents. We had rough patches and there were financial and emotional struggles, but through it all my parents stayed together and provided a stable and caring home. They raised us to help our family members and forgive any faults that might irritate us. I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like if they hadn’t toughed it out together; if they didn’t love each other too much to give up.
I am not a perfect person. I am well aware of this. I also don’t expect perfection from others. I give credit for that to my parents because they taught me that when you love someone, you love them, faults and all. I don’t know how to love any other way. I love my friends down to the bottom of my soul. I love my family the same way. I love my son’s father this way as well.
We’ve had some really rough times and we haven’t always dealt with them to the best of our abilities. Sometimes communication failed and things looked bleak. We’ve been round and round the rollercoaster ride numerous times now and somehow, we keep coming back to each other.
So I was asked the other day… “How many more times are you going to go through this?” and my answer, at least to myself, was “as many times as it takes.” I honestly hope that we won’t repeat our mistakes of the past but I know that even if we do, it was worth taking the chance. This isn’t a dream or make-believe, this is reality. Merging two lives together takes work. Making and sustaining a healthy and happy family takes even more. Anyone who tells you it’s going to be easy is a moron. Sometimes things fail and you’re left with scars. And sometimes you’re given the chance to mend what’s been broken. I honestly believe that if you don’t take those chances in your life you’ll always wonder “what if”.
I don’t feel this makes me weak. If anything, it makes me stronger. I have the strength to fight for what I want in my life, to face my fears and try not to let scars of the past hinder my future. We are family, together with our son, and that isn’t something someone should give up on lightly.
I saw this picture the other day in my news feed and was reminded again how solid my base for family and relationships is.
Maybe I’m old fashioned or stubborn, but I don’t believe in giving up. I do believe that most differences can be resolved, problems can be fixed, and that; through mutual respect and love; time can heal wounds. If nothing else I will know, deep down, that I’m living my life in a manner that won’t leave me wondering “what if”. And, in the end, no matter how things play out, my son has two parents who love him to the bottom of their souls.
Family provides us with perspective. How we are raised influences how we live our adult lives. I count myself blessed that I have such a strong support system, a solid example of how love can thrive in even the most trying of times. We all take different paths in this world and the only constant is change. But no matter how much you change you know that there will always be people who love you just the way you are.
Our son is going to grow up with similar examples, a variation of my childhood themes, and a supportive and loving family. I couldn’t think of a better way to raise our son than to teach him to lead with his heart, not let fears hold him back from attaining his goals, and to love without judgment.
I guess that despite all of my claims that I wouldn’t be; I’m very much like my parents. In all the best ways.
I took time today to reflect on the most important people of my life; how they’ve helped me grow into the person I am and how I know they will continue to shape the person I am going to become. I am thankful every day of my life to be so blessed.
When was the last time you (really) sat down and thought about the people you love? When was the last time you thanked them for loving you just the way you are (no matter how many times you’ve changed)?
Anything worth having is worth working for.
My parents may have taught me this lesson a little too well. Because I believe that everything takes work and I’ve reached that point in my life where I want things for myself and my family I have a tendency to take on more than I have time to manage.
I have a two (almost three) year old at home. I work and, even though I’m underemployed, that’s 30 hours of my week not including my commute. I’m a full-time student. I’m training for a 5k obstacle course. I’m looking to buy a house. I’m researching 4 year degree options. I’m trying to have a social life.
It’s exhausting, to be completely honest. But I feel accomplished and proud of myself every day. I have an amazing support network that’s filled with people who cheer me on when I’m struggling, support me when I’m worn out, and encourage me to be my best.
When I hear stories of women who get an advanced degree while working full-time with 2 or more children and little to no support system I am astonished. I honestly don’t know how they manage it. Even with all of the resources at my disposal I struggle to balance work, home, and school. I couldn’t imagine doing it under more difficult circumstances. I applaud every one of those women – they are my inspiration on rough days.
The lesson that you have to work for the things you want seems to be one that isn’t applied well these days. I know too many people, generally younger than me but not always, who seem to feel the world owes them something. The problem with that philosophy is that eventually life smacks you in the fanny and makes you get to work.
Even when you’re willing to work life sometimes smacks you in the fanny to remind you to work harder. The last four years of my life felt like a never-ending struggle. In work, in life, in my relationships. Even though things are evening out for me now, it made me realize that maintaining a good, happy life takes continuous maintenance. I’m good with that. I may come home exhausted, I may look at my studies and desperately want a night off, I may have to bike out to the middle of nowhere and vent my frustrations, but at the end of the day, I can reflect back on every struggle I’ve had and know that it’s worth it.
The next time you feel your shoulders slump in defeat over a setback or something that didn’t work out the way you thought it would ask yourself if you’ve put in the work. Have you earned it yet? Answer yourself honestly. I’m a firm believer that if you’re willing to dedicate yourself to making something happen, you’ll eventually reach your goal.
Keep Calm and Tread On.
“I have a dream” … such simple words that are rarely voiced out loud anymore. I wonder if dreaming is a dying art form in a world filled with instant gratification. Does anyone truly dream anymore? Or am I the only one? I have no fear of sharing my dream with the world, I’d shout it from the Sears tower if I thought anyone cared. It’s been the same for quite a while now.
I dream of a house – cottage like in its charm – in an almost rural town. In this town I know my neighbors, I’m on the PTA, and I volunteer often at my children’s school. In my cottage home there is a sense of organized chaos and a feeling of love. In my yellow kitchen I stand after a day of work, cooking dinner while my son and daughter play in the large back yard. The sounds of laughter and dogs barking gleefully drift in the window to blend with the happy smell of supper. Behind me a pair of arms slip around my waist and a gentle kiss is planted on my neck from the man who holds the other half of my soul. Dinner is a time where the whole family gathers around the table and discusses their day, where my son is admonished for sharing scraps with the dogs and my daughter giggles gleefully over the adoring attention from her daddy.
I’ve had this dream called “boring”, ‘cliché”, “unimaginative”, and, my personal favorite “an affront to women’s rights”. But it’s still the same dream and I honestly couldn’t care less what others think of it.
My dream focuses around family, always has. It doesn’t matter my career, or his career, or our combined annual gross income. What matters is that home and family are the haven within which true happiness lies.
I want my children to have the childhood I had. One where they could play safely around the neighborhood until the street lights came on. Where you knew your neighbors and if your kids misbehaved it was relayed to you before your kids even made it back to the front door. Where the teachers in the schools know and care about each student individually. Where recreation time doesn’t consist of sitting down in front of the TV, Wii, or computer for hours on end! I want a community that’s close to the water (river, creek, ocean, lake, whatever!) so I can teach my kids to fish and row a boat.
Most of all I want my kids to be kids. Exercise should still be play for them (and me!) instead of work. They should be able to explore and get dirty without me worrying about something horrifying happening to them. They should be able to test (and, subsequently, learn) their boundaries so that they can become smart, respectful, and well-rounded adults someday. They should be allowed to challenge authority in a safe environment, because they’re going to do it regardless.
This is my dream. A safe, secure, loving home where I can let my kids enjoy being kids. A home where they can spend their entire lives, where I can retire and finish out my years on this planet…
… and it should always smell like fresh baked bread.
It’s too common for us women to feel selfish when we take time to do things for ourselves. Recently, I’ve noticed that it’s common for men to not understand the words “I’m doing this for me” when they come out of a woman’s mouth. Don’t ask me to what extent the two are interconnected, because I’m pretty sure I really don’t want to know.
I got a Brazilian wax so obviously it had to be for a man in my life. I started working out more… again, had to be for the men in my life. I take more time to go out with the girls, I take time to blog, I get a haircut, my nails done… etc. I feel guilty and, without fail, some man in my life thinks I’m doing it for another man. When I tried to explain this I got the dumbfounded stare. It was really rather annoying. So I explained “I do these things for me. I’m in a “selfish phase” right now and I’m very self-focused, that’s why I see so much less of you lately… because I’m taking more time for me.”
Why did I feel the need to say I’m in a selfish phase is beyond me. It’s how I feel, even though I know that’s not right. I’ve dedicated so much time in my life to other people that I know I deserve time of my own, but I have to actively remind myself to stop feeling guilty. It’s going to take time to learn to reshape my thinking on some subjects, but I’m happy with the progress I’ve made so far.
All of these things I’m doing now that I didn’t make time for before, I do these things for me. I want to be healthy. I want to keep up with my son as he gets older…. Maybe to some extent I do these things for another man. My son. But it is mostly for me, for selfish reasons. Because I want to see him go to kindergarten, and little league, and Disney World, and graduate College, and get married, and I want to see my grandbabies. He doesn’t care how I look in a bikini right now and all I care about is feeling good enough about myself to leave the house in one. I’m not going to be a fitness model. That’s just a fact of life. I just want to be comfortable with me. And the more I focus on me, the more confident I am in myself and the more comfortable I am with myself.
“I do this for me.” Those are the only words I recommend a woman repeat to herself, calmly, when she feels guilty for spending time on herself or when some poor, misguided male asks her who the other man she’s doing those things for is.
Just my short thought of the day –
Personal development; it’s the reason I went back to school. It’s the reason I tend to overanalyze things I do or say, and it’s my motivator during this transitional period in my life. For three years I felt like I was living in limbo. Everything always seemed to be up in the air. Fate, life events, a catastrophic alignment of the stars, whatever the force was, it simply didn’t want me to be able to get comfortable or feel secure. Because I’ve got this optimistic brain, I look back on the last three years and I see the happy times. I see what I did right and how much I’ve grown as a person. I’ve become a good mother, a reliable provider, and someone who knows her own value. So when I look back, I have to believe that there was a reason I wasn’t allowed to grow comfortable and settled.
To put it quite simply, I wasn’t done “growing up”. I can admit to myself now that it’s going to be a lifelong process, this “growing up” business. I’m the type of person who wants to put down roots and be settled. But that also means that I have a tendency to stagnate and give up a large portion of my personality. Just because I want to put down roots, doesn’t mean that’s a natural desire for me. My inherent desire to explore and create, to jump without looking and dance in the rain have been overridden by the events in my life that have caused a deep desire for stability. And they’ve been at war with each other for years.
I’m slowly learning how to appease them both; my sense of adventure as well as my need for security and stability. Part of it was learning that I really, truly can rely on myself. The other part, the harder part, is learning that I can rely on others when needed. I don’t have to do everything myself. I can trust others to handle some things so that I can have time for myself. I’m still in the baby steps phase of that but I think I’m progressing well.
I no longer feel guilty for going to bed at 9pm, or going to the gym and putting my son in the daycare room, or asking someone to babysit him so I can go out. It’s getting easier to ask for help. The amazing part is how much better I feel about myself now. It’s not about looks or my physical appearance. It’s a happiness with me that comes from deep inside. It started about a year ago and it’s really bloomed the last two months or so. I feel like I can conquer the world. I can make a decision to do something and just do it, without worrying over every little detail. I can dance without feeling like someone is judging me. I can look at the world, and people in it, without superficial judgment.
I went to the gym yesterday in a form fitting workout tank and capris – an outfit I never would have worn without a jacket of some sort for fear that people would judge my fat arms, post-pregnancy belly, or jiggly backside. Even two years ago before I put on weight, I wouldn’t have gone out in public in that outfit. I wouldn’t have cared that I completed 5.2 miles on the elliptical in 56 minutes. I would have worried about who was watching me while I was doing it. I wouldn’t have stopped to pick up dinner where I actually had to go inside while sweaty and slimy from my workout, still in my workout clothes.
But this week, I did. And it’s been empowering. Because now, when I want to do something, my first thought isn’t “what will other people think?”; it’s “how accomplished will I feel when I’m done?”. So, to that end, I start my running program this weekend.
I know the connection here might be difficult, but if you knew how much I hate running on a treadmill you might understand. See, I have to run outside to pace myself properly. Where others can see me. In broad daylight. I have to go to a runners store and run on a treadmill in front of an expert and get my feet fitted for proper shoes. There is the possibility for judgment lurking at every step. And… I. Don’t. Care.
That felt good enough that I’m going to say it again. I don’t care about how other people judge me. I care how I judge me. After my 5.2 miles I wasn’t winded. I could still breathe normally, a little heavily, but steadily. Today, my legs feel great. I’m not sore or stiff. I want to keep going.
I’m registering for Warrior Dash tonight. 3.1 miles, 12 obstacles, lots of mud… last year I was an envious spectator. This year I’m doing it. I don’t care if it takes me two hours to complete it or if I have to go completely alone. I don’t care if people watching laugh when I slip and fall face first in the mud. I’m doing this for me.
At first I thought I’d do it to rub it in HIS face that I could but I was wrong. He has nothing to do with this, except maybe that I no longer fear that he’ll judge me. I’ve wanted to do these things all along but I was too afraid. I’m not afraid anymore.
I’m going to conquer the world – or at least my little corner of it – and nothing, no one, is going to stop me from being the best me I can be anymore.
“It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not” – Andre Gide