Posts Tagged ‘encouragement’

SAHAM, part II

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010

Two months later. Husband has pretty much been home since my last post. Now I am getting re-adjusted to married life again. And capable, opinionated Me is having a harder time adjusting. Marriage is not the same as roommates, and it’s not actually a right-or-wrong situation. It’s a give-and-take while still being a part of one another’s lives kind of thing. Ugh. It’s so much more difficult than roommates. But that’s not why I’m writing. Let’s hear about the cost of being at home alone, with kids.

First, there is the obvious: being alone . . . with kids. I have yet to meet a mother who does not occasionally have the desire to leave a child crying in a crib, or maybe propped in front of a tv while she escapes for some fresh, quiet air. And usually this desire multiplies until she perhaps needs not just 10 seconds alone, but perhaps an entire hour alone. And being the good mother that she is, she does not leave a crying child alone while she takes a joy ride down Main Street. But she will hand off the little demon to Daddy the second his feet cross the threshold, and disappear before he can come up with a legitimate reason why he should not be holding the child.

When Daddy is gone, this cannot happen. And listening to the crying, the whining, maybe even just the innocent (but still very annoying), constant chatter can start to fray any sane person’s nerves. Added on top of that is the knowledge that there is no escape, and let’s just say there are times where Zombie Mommy takes over (until even this alter-ego gets worn down by the incessant repetition of “Mommy, why won’t you talk to me?”). This is bad all-around, because the kids only get mothering attention, which is typically the manners-enforcing, life-learning, book-reading, quiet time; versus fathering attention, which is typically tickle-festing, body-wrestling, mess-making, and your basic ruckus-raising time. So the kids are going a little stir-crazy, and Mommy checks out, and now they’re really going stir-crazy, which really doesn’t help Mommy, so it’s quite a vicious circle until Mommy eats some chocolate or something and musters the enthusiasm to play with the kids and get them to bed so that she can finally get a break . . . which, in my case, turns into quite a few hours of doing whatever I can think of that involves not going to bed because it is oh-so-quiet while they are asleep and if I go to bed then I will just wake up again and have to listen to all the noise for another whole day alone. Oy. Next thing I know, it’s 5 a.m. and now on top of my little patience, I will also have little sleep, which saps even more of said little patience.

Whew!

Don’t worry; this wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Maybe like every other day. ;) But what I’m trying to say is, it can be exhausting taking care of two small children without any adult interaction, or assistance. There were certainly some times when I became Zombie Mommy, so I can certainly appreciate Daddy’s presence now, despite all those little beard hairs in the sink. Being alone is great as long as things are going along smoothly; it’s when the troops are restless and there is no immediate reinforcement that it gets a little sticky. I am sure this was an obvious outcome for all of you, though. And it was mostly remedied by going to see a friend, or just getting out of the house. There are other costs that I didn’t quite realize at first.

Touch. Apparently, touch is ridiculously important. I was at a children’s museum today and one piece of information was that the hand has like 15,000 receptors in it (don’t quote me on this; I’m feeling too tired to look it up). The sense of touch is amazing. Babies–animals and humans–all thrive when touched lovingly, but do not do so well in isolation. Having my children around me, I never imagined I would be lacking in touch; after all, III was still nursing and pretty much clinging to me any waking moment. But it’s not the same.

The summer after I graduated high school I went to stay with a past foreign exchange student for a month. The third week I was there I had fallen asleep on the beach and had completely burned my back. Obviously it hurt, and I couldn’t reach to spread any lotion on it, so my host mother spread it on for me. And I realized as she touched me, that I had not touched another human being beyond the cordial handshake/kiss of first meeting someone since I had arrived. My mother wasn’t forcing a hug out of me every night, I wasn’t slouching against anyone on the couch, or even giving a friendly back rub. So when my host mother touched me, I almost began to cry. The touch was so much more comforting than the lotion itself. It is a basic human need.

So I may have had the entire bed to spread out on while Lloyd was gone, but I had no one to hug  me good-night. I may have been able to watch all chick flicks, but I had no one to lean on, or even share the jokes with. Lack of touch disconnects you (and I feel for anyone in a long-distance relationship!), and it’s not the big intimate acts of touch, but the small ones that make you feel alone. After all, don’t we get excited when watching a movie and the guy reaches over to push a stray bit of hair out of the girl’s face? Or reaches to slip the strap of her dress back on her shoulder? I missed the simple things.

I had my own schedule, but no one who wanted me to be anywhere (well, not entirely true; I did stay somewhat busy, but at the end of every day my friends all had their own homes to go back to). There were times when everyone I knew had plans with family or close friends, and I the best I could get was a phone call. At meal time I had to help both kids get fed before I got a chance to eat . . . alone. Instead of having someone help clean up the kitchen with me (not that this is a frequent occurrence), I got asked a hundred times when I would be done and could come play.

I guess what I’m saying is that there are two sides to every story. It is difficult being a parent alone. But that doesn’t mean I have to be miserable. And if I’m not miserable it doesn’t mean I would rather be alone. I think it’s ok to recognize a situation for what it is, but not to wallow in what it isn’t. And when I figure out how to do that, I’ll let you know!

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The Stay-at-Home-Alone-Mom

Wednesday, May 26th, 2010

For the past five months I have been in Nebraska with the kids and without the husband, mostly. He manages to swing through for a few days here and there, and we even had him for over a week once, but for the majority of the time he’s been either in California or traveling. It isn’t exactly what I anticipated, and we’re working on plans to move again so that maybe he can be around a little more, but I have learned a lot.

Most importantly, I have learned how capable I am. I left home at 17, ready to face the big college life, thinking I really knew what I was doing. I even thought once I was in college that I was a grown-up, but while I went to an excellent school that is filled with professors that truly care about and get involved in the students’ lives, to some degree they only serve as a crutch for poor little sheltered preachers’ kids like me. There were still plenty of rules, just like living at home, and no monthly electrical bills to budget for.

So I began dating Lloyd about one month after school started (I was so proud for holding out that long!), two years later we were married, and about 1 year and 9 months later we had our daughter and then graduated college a couple months after that. Being married, going to school, working a job, and having a baby certainly helped me learn responsibility (but honestly, I was always a 4.0 perfectionist; responsibility really wasn’t something I was lacking), but I have never been on my own.

It has been freeing and frustrating. I’m not exactly in the position of a single mother—I don’t have to work, as my husband still makes the money. But I’m not quite in the position of a military wife either—I have little fear for my husband’s safety (but let me just say that I am so much more empathetic to the situation of military wives now). I’m this weird stay-at-home-mother who is alone. So let me share with you a little of what I’ve learned.

I’ve learned how nice it is to not have to work around anyone else’s schedule. I plan our days according to what we want to do, and we don’t have to plan mealtime for anyone else, or wait on anyone else if we want to go somewhere. I don’t need to ask anyone else’s opinion or go through the same, old conversation of “I don’t know; what do you want to do?” I can sleep across the entire bed. I don’t have to clean up tiny hairs around the sink. I can watch all chick flicks. I can dance in my underwear . . . oh wait, I could do that before.

Well, anyway, I’ve learned how to make decisions for myself. I’ve realized how dependent I’d become on my husband’s opinion, which is not to say that I’m now ready to disregard everything he thinks, but too often I find myself changing what I want to do in favor of what he wants to do. And it’s not like he’s bullied me into anything. It’s the subtle nuances of how he responds to my suggestions. When I learned (after 5 years of marriage) that he doesn’t like rice, I pretty much stopped cooking it. But you know what? I love rice. So why should I stop making it? If he asked me to bake a ham (which I really wouldn’t want to eat), I would do it (and, oh, I did do that for Christmas last year). I’ve been in a position of feeling subordinate to him even though he’s done nothing to force his ways over me (well, other than his personality being so very, very convincing). And being without him has let me see myself.

I have opinions too. I have preferences. And I have a voice to share those with. Another very simple, and silly, example showed itself when I was frosting Emma’s birthday cake. I think I was using a plastic knife or something, and was perfectly content using that knife, with no ill effects, when Lloyd suggested I use his beloved “spatula spreader” (there’s a whole other story in that alone!). I responded I didn’t know where it was and was fine using my knife. Wait about 5 seconds, and he’s asking me if I’m sure I don’t know where it is; it really would work better. Long story short, I stop what I’m doing to search for the tool, find it, and use it, with no great improvement on frosting spreading. This is a classic example. He never said I had to do anything; he really was making a suggestion based on what he thought would be in my best interest. But you know what? I wanted to use the darn knife. I didn’t not want to use the spatula spreader, but what I was using was perfectly acceptable. Give me that same scenario today and I’ll just keep using the knife. I’m allowed to have a preference and do things my way.

Freedom. Freedom in being alone. But freedom does come at a cost. And I’ll save that for another day. ;)

By the way, I know I’ve been terribly absent, but along with this freedom I’ve realized how powerful my own motivation can be. And honestly, there are things I’d rather be doing. You want to know who encouraged me (repeatedly) to start blogging in the first place? Take a wild guess . . . It wasn’t a bad suggestion, and his encouragement was sincere in that he thought this is what I need to be happy. And I’m not saying it hasn’t been fulfilling at times, but I’ve been more motivated to make an effort at keeping up with housework (that part’s not really doing so swell though), and following through with my promises to Emma of giving her my undivided attention for art projects or just playing, and making time to focus on my physical well-being by exercising every day. And something’s gotta give, you know. Obviously, I’m no Super Mom, and I don’t yet know how to get it all in—although I’m guessing watching less Grey’s Anatomy would help—but I’m still working on it at least!

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Shape Up

Friday, April 16th, 2010

Every April, Vogue puts the focus of their magazine on the “celebration of size and silhouette,” and makes the emphasis of their articles on the female body in a more healthful, rather than just fashion-full, way. I was actually pleasantly surprised; perhaps because I was reading this at a time when my shape seems to be deteriorating despite increased efforts at improving it. While I don’t want to rehash the entire issue, there were 3 articles that stood out to me in a very positive light.

The first attracted my attention because in my desire to find a new solution to my weight-loss issues, I was becoming slightly dazzled by the miraculous promises of a number of fasts/detox diets/miracle pills. Now, being ordinarily a very sensible, logical person who doesn’t like to do “weird” things to my body, I was even surprising myself at the desperateness I was feeling. So this first article grounded me, and I haven’t been back to the flashy “Order now! Lose 30 pounds in 30 days or your money back!” sites. It is titled Coming Clean, and addresses the foolish claims of many of these miracle programs. (I have not checked the research on this article, so yes, I realize this may not be entirely accurate either, but it was still an encouraging thing to read!)

It focuses mostly on the detox/juice diets, and recognizes the truths in many of the claims, but also provides the whole story. For example, pointing out that our bodies were already designed to flush out toxins—through the liver—and any the body can’t rid itself of are not sitting around in the colon, waiting to be cleansed, but are stored in fatty tissues like the brain. Also, these diets tend to make you lose weight because you lose muscle, which will also slow your metabolism for when you do go back to eating. My favorite claim they combated, though, was the euphoria many say they experience. In some study, they discovered that the endorphin system in starving animals kicks in a feeling of euphoria to ease the trauma of imminent death. Nice, huh?

The next article that followed was one on how to (perhaps) lose those last five pounds (I’d like to know how to lose the ten I gained while trying to lose the last five!). Anyway, I really felt in touch with the author, who aptly summed up my food experience when she said, “My self-control around food is right up there with my ability to speak Mandarin.” So, apparently, the next “in” thing for portion control is not in the measurements, but in the mind. She interviewed a social psychologist by the name of Ronna Kabatznick, Ph.D., who is a leading advocate of mindful eating. She makes the focus of eating on how you feel about it. How hungry are you really? And why are you eating? Beyond being aware before beginning, you’re also supposed to be aware while you’re eating—aware of the sensations your food brings about. Eat slowly, and with purpose and acknowledgement of each bite.

Another interesting tidbit in the article is that a study found that yoga practicers have a lower BMI than regular walkers and gymgoers. Admittedly, there are still plenty of gymgoers that I’m sure do just fine (and don’t even get me started on the apparent ease in which men seem to shed pounds just by deciding to!), but in the crazy life of a (somewhat single) stay-at-home mother to young children, the gym is nowhere in my foreseeable future. Of course, I also read this article a month ago, and remember being aware of my first pb&j sandwich afterwards, but nothing else beyond that. I loved reading the author’s journey though: “I’m aware that I’m eating a whole Toblerone bar at 10:00 A.M., but down it goes. I’m aware that I’m looking for something other than sustenance in the refrigerator, but I eat some filet mignon anyway. The only difference: I feel guiltier now.” I think it’s even more difficult to be mindful around grunting, begging, needy children, too. I already only eat when I can squeeze it in between child duties, but the encouraging message in the article is to just keep trying. Each meal is a chance to start over, and the authors journey did eventually have a pleasing reward, so maybe it can work for others too!

The last article was also inspiring to me, because it was written by the blogging-spectacular Julie Powell. Vogue approached her with a proposition to get fit and write about it (which also begs the question—if someone were going to pay me to really, really work on getting fit, could I get there? We all have our motivators…). So she did! She, of course, interviewed and got to choose a personal trainer, and had no kids to get in the way of her schedule, but had her own issues with traveling for her book tour (oh, the travesty!). But the article was still really inspiring, because she did learn how to get into a routine, and found that the more she made it a priority, the more she wanted it as a priority. And her work paid off as well, and she was able to continue her routine after her time with the trainer had ended. I guess I feel more like her success can be my success just because despite her great fortune, I feel like she’s a normal person. I know we’re all normal people, but I’m not sure I feel like I could ever be Jennifer Aniston, but Julie Powell—she’s attainable. (And while you can’t read her article online, you can read this.)

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Encourage-me Sunday!

Sunday, February 28th, 2010

I am so excited this week! It has been extremely productive in terms of things I like to do—baking and organizing. And no, I don’t mean organizing paperwork or household items (although that would be a nice thing to do); I mean planning a birthday party. This weekend my sweet little girl turned 4! Yikes! So I am really proud to have thrown her a successful tea party birthday. The kids seemed to all enjoy themselves, but most importantly, Emma thought it was great.

On top of that, I finished my Daring Baker challenge, and let me tell you, that was no small cup of tea. I think this may have been the most frustrating yet, but it may have just been because I was simultaneously trying to get said birthday party organized while also wanting to spend time with my husband who was only here for 6 days. But I did finish it, and am proud that I at least stuck through and ended up with something edible and delicious, even if it was not quite perfect. (You can expect posts on both these things soon; in fact, they may be the only posts this week. Think a little relaxation is in order!)

So tell me, what are you proud of this week? Encourage yourself!

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Encourage yourself!

Sunday, February 21st, 2010

Here it is: the beginning of Encourage-me Sundays! So this week I am so excited to share that I managed to clean my bathroom—including the tub. I tend to always skip the tub because I use that daily shower spray stuff, but a good elbow-rubbing never hurt anyone’s tub. I kept putting off cleaning my bathroom because I don’t like to do it while III’s awake and trying to crawl in the toilet, and I don’t like to do it while he sleeps because I’m afraid of waking him. Sounds like I just don’t want to do it, huh? Well, fortunately, with just me and the kids it doesn’t seem to get nearly as filthy as when a certain male parent is around. Interesting…

So I buckled down, bribed Emma to entertain her brother while keeping him corralled in his crib, and I did it. And I feel so much better. I have the greatest intentions for cleaning my bathroom much more frequently, but that to-do always seems to get put off till the next day (unless company’s coming, but that hasn’t been an issue).

So what are you proud of this week? It can be something little or something big; just be aware that you do accomplish things, and you should relish in every thing. You can link up here to your own post, or just leave a comment (or even both!). Let’s encourage ourselves together! (I am also proud of figuring out and trying out this whole linky thing, so please join me just so I can see if it works!)

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One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Monday, February 15th, 2010

I don’t know about the other mommy-types out there, or even just the other female-types, but I feel like as soon as I get caught up in one area, I’m falling more behind in another. Take the blogging versus house cleaning arena around here: I was doing so well at consistently making time in my evenings to write something up for the next day, but my house has been steadily declining. For at least three weeks straight there have been dirty dishes piled in my sink. I kept them from overflowing and spreading to the counters (most days), but never completely vanquished them even for a moment. And Emma’s room was staying at a steady “disorganized” level, as was the living room.

Until the last few days. We had friends over Thursday night (which ended in a massive meltdown that sapped me of all desire to write, so I figured I would get to it on Friday), and then another friend over Friday afternoon. And I got a little caught up since Emma was being entertained by someone other than me, but then I cooked again, and suddenly on Sunday I was standing in a home I hardly recognized, feeling overwhelmed by the mess and disappointed in myself for not doing any writing, but feeling pretty good about all the time I spent with people over the weekend.

I can’t imagine I’m the only one who faces this challenge, but many times it sure seems like it. There’s such an unstated pressure on wives or mothers to have it all together; for the home to be presentable, the meals to be wholesome, and everyone to be happy. And I am boldly saying I am not one of those women. I don’t have the balance down yet. I get distracted by the television, the internet, and all sorts of time-wasters. And then I get down on myself that I haven’t cleaned my kitchen, or I’ve broken my writing streak, or I haven’t exercised, and I inevitably run to the cupboard for solace, feeling plenty guilty and undoing any of the good I’ve done.

So here’s what I’m going to try, and I’d like to encourage you to as well (if you suffer from the same dilemma). Accept what I was able to do, and take value in the things that have no outward reward. By this I mean that every little bit counts. No, it’s not awesome that I didn’t clean every single dish, but I did clean some, which is progress. And yes, I spent a large chunk of my weekend spending time with people and not cleaning, and that is something that I have nothing physical to show for. BUT . . . I recharged a little. I wasn’t around the mess as much, and I was able to feel like a person functioning in society, and not just as a housekeeper.

So when I got up today it was back to just us and the house, but I was ready for it. And guess what? My kitchen was clean today. It only lasted for about a half an hour before I moved on to dinner, but I caught up. And Emma’s room, which had escalated to full out war-zone disaster, was cleaned back down to its usual disorganized state (and yes, she did help, as did Tinker Bell). The living room carpet was revealed again, and vacuumed of crumbs, and I even found my dining table after clearing out all the Valentine project mess. And the silly thing is, I still found myself being disappointed that I didn’t blog today.

There is so much accomplished in every day. So much that goes unnoticed. So much that we don’t give ourselves credit for. For me, it’s difficult to take value out of the hours I spend preparing and feeding food to my children, and while I don’t expect to ever feel great significance in that simple act, that doesn’t make it insignificant. Emma could probably fend on her own for a little while, and could maybe manage to feed her brother some cereal, but in all reality, without me they would starve. I am keeping two human beings alive. And I am going to try to recognize the value in that on a daily basis.

And I think, I think, that perhaps in having a positive attitude toward what is getting accomplished, that more will in turn be accomplished. Instead of turning a blind eye to the clean kitchen and only seeing the dirty toilet, and thus, feeling those dreaded claws of failure, I think stopping to recognize the clean kitchen would instead motivate. I can see this working in many husband/wife relationships. If Husband surprises Wife while she is out by cleaning up the kitchen, she responds with joy and surprise and praise, which makes him want to elicit that response again. If she responds by asking why he didn’t get to the living room too, you can bet he doesn’t ever want to do her a favor again. So women, start treating yourselves like you would treat someone else for the work you do! (And husbands, feel free to praise your wives for all they accomplish. Actually, I’m pretty sure praising someone would work in a roommate situation, too, or even just in a visiting friend situation. Really, compliments are good for anyone!)

And the hardest part in all this—for myself included—is to accept the praise. Even coming from yourself. Some days are going to be productive enough that you do move two steps forward, but on the days where it seems you’ve only made backwards progress it’s still valuable to take joy in the small things. And, of course, to remember that tomorrow’s another day. :D

And in order to make this something I remember to do, look for a new post on Sundays, called “Encourage-me Sundays.” Anyone who would like to join in is more than welcome to share something you’re proud of from the week. Encouraging ourselves is great, but it’s also wonderful to be able to share it!

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