Today sort of sucks. I’ve had people ask me what I find hardest in being a stay-at-home mom, and I always tell them that it depends on the day. Also, it’s worth it. Any given day it’s totally worth it.
Only, maybe not today.
Ben’s been sick with a stomach virus for a week now and I’m at the end of my “oh poor little boy is suffering and that’s why he’s so cranky” rope. I’m not being mean or anything (well, unless you ask him, there’s a whole “cookie” incident that we won’t get into), but he’s on his third episode of Sesame Street. I SWEAR we usually watch about 4 hours a week, and I try to keep it under that. Yes, I DO believe that television is the devil, if only just because of how it makes me feel when I’ve watched more than a little of it. And, yes, I do believe it contributes to bad behavior, and, no, you aren’t going to convince me otherwise. And, no, I don’t REALLY believe you’re a bad parent if your toddler watches more TV than mine. But I feel like a bad parent. I feel like a lazy parent who can’t find something else to do.
But I’m not beating myself up about it today, because, you know what? I’ve had it. Yesterday Ben had NO urine for about 7 hours. And when I told the doc she told us that we needed to up the fluids (oh my god as if I hadn’t been pushing Pedialyte every second of the day and following him around with a sippy cup of juice!) and that we needed to stay out of the heat. She’d mentioned keeping Ben “comfortable” when we saw her last Friday, but hadn’t really said no to being outdoors. Live and learn I guess. Anyway. Those Mighty Mini popsicles? A GODSEND. Woke up dreading checking Ben’s diaper (no pee tonight would have meant a trip to the ER) only to find his sheets drenched. Hooray! Yes, I was cheering over yet another load of laundry.
This is a bad, complain-y post. But I have a point. Seriously. I think.
This week has been without the park, which is much harder than I ever would have thought. It’s contained my being sick with the same bug Ben has (oh, and, hey, I’m 13-or-so weeks pregnant so that’s added to the wonder!), fears of an upcoming flight (I HATE flying. I’m not AFRAID of flying. I HATE it.), missing out on two really, really, really exciting events, one including a friend I haven’t seen in YEARS.
And so I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. I’m feeling a little blue. And then Ben comes and snuggles next to me on the floor and we pick up How Do Dinosaurs Say I Love You? which we’re borrowing from the library, and I remember that this will end. He pulls down the neck of my shirt so he can place his ear against my bare skin and hear my heart beat. And it’s a little better. It still really sucks. But it’s worth it again.
Somedays I hate the playground. Most frustratingly, I tend to hate the playground the worst on the days Ben loves it the best—those with the most kids.
Sand in my jeans, sand in my house, the possibility of falling off the ladder or running into a swinging child, the sometimes sharp toys brought by kids, the food I forgot to bring (oh, but how nice that everyone shared today), eating the wood chips, falling off the bench, trying to climb the fence and splitting open a chin, having to make small talk with some of the more intimidating moms and nannies. All these things are worth the fun we normally have.
But there’s one thing that makes my heart race. It’s going to sound ridiculous, and it’s not what you think. But I hate when a mom goes to sit or stand right next to her kid when he or she is playing with Ben.
I tend to hang back. I don’t think Ben needs my constant presence, and I like him being able to interact with other kids without me, able to solve his own smaller problems. And if another kid takes a toy Ben’s playing with he’ll usually either grab another to play with, try to take it back, or come to me. I’ll step in if there’s a problem: a crying kid, any sort of hitting. I leave it alone otherwise.
But we’ve had problems with other moms stepping in too early and causing a problem. The worst was over an airplane. A really, really cool airplane. A boy brought it and was playing with it in the sandbox. Because his mom was right on top of him I decided to sit near them on the sandbox rim. Ben asked very nicely (signing and speaking his little “pEEAse!”) and was told by the mom that he could use it when her son was done. He sat waiting and watching the kid play with airplane for a good 5 or 6 minutes. Then the kid put it to the side and started digging in the sand. Ben took the toy and was having a great time making airplane noises and playing gently. The other mom got off the phone and saw him, I had made a phone call so I wasn’t paying that much attention, but I heard her ask her kid if he wanted his airplane back. And then took it from Ben and handed it over. Ben was FURIOUS! And who could blame him? He did exactly what he was told to do, waited patiently, and wasn’t hurting anyone. All that work and someone changed the rules.
I almost decked her. How could she be such a flaming asshat? Her kid hadn’t even seemed to notice. And Ben hadn’t run off with it or anything; they were playing right next to each other.
I tried interesting Ben in something else, I tried getting him onto the slide, but nothing was calming him down. So we had to leave. And I wish that I had said something, even now, weeks later. Her kid was at least a year older than Ben, much more mature and vocal, though the same size. And I know that people assume Ben is about 3 or so, since he’s the same size as most 3-year-olds at the park, and they expect him to act a little older, but even still, this was an awful thing to do.
The other time doesn’t really seem as bad to me, though when I put it in words people seem to get more upset about it. Ben was throwing sand. And I was two steps away to stop him when a nanny grabbed his hand and told him “no.” He wasn’t close enough to get any kid with the sand, though I was still going to stop him. It really wasn’t necessary for someone else to step in. I don’t approve of other people disciplining my kid unless we know them or there’s danger involved, for him or another kid. Okay, not exactly true, she could have told him not to throw the sand, but don’t touch my kid. If there’d been even one other kid in the sandbox I would have understood.
Anyway, I’m always worried about these lines being crossed. I worry that I’m not doing a good enough job parenting my kid, that I’m letting him be too much on his own and pissing off the other parents. I don’t know if I’m right or wrong in this situation. I don’t know if I’m being unfair to the other kids. But 90% of the time Ben and the other kids get along well, it’s only when the other people step in that we’ve had issues.
Where are your boundaries? Am I wrong about the airplane? Would you have taken it away? I know I would have if Ben had grabbed it or the other kid had been really upset. Without thinking, it would have gone back to the kid. But I never would have given it back to Ben if it had been his toy. We share. And he needs to learn that. Maybe the kid has developmental issues, it’s what I’ve been telling myself, but I still don’t understand bringing it up if both kids were happily playing.
We are all the parents we are, and really I can’t fault Tom. He’s a terrific dad (and a really fantastic husband, too). But I just lose all respect for him when I hear him in the other room. He turns into a sniveling lackey. I expect to walk in their to hear Ben saying “on this, the day of my daughter’s wedding.”
Seriously, everything becomes a question. “Do you want to brush your teeth now?” “Should we go in the other room and eat dinner?” “Don’t kick daddy in the balls, okay?” That’s the worst: the okay tacked onto the end of every statement to prevent it from being too harsh.
And I don’t want to be that wife. I am that wife, but I don’t want to be that wife. I constantly rephrase everything he says when he’s in the room with me. “It’s time to brush our teeth now.” “Let’s go eat dinner.” “Don’t kick daddy!” Arg! I’m such a bitchy bitch! But it’s fingernails on a chalkboard, and it’s so easy to slip into it myself.
“It’s time to go to bed now, okay?” No, it’s not okay. He’s a toddler. Of COURSE he doesn’t want to go to bed now, he wants to play. And he needs to know it isn’t a choice. I counted the other night. He used “okay?” seven times in 15 minutes. That has to be a record.
But what’s a mom to do? I’ve tried explaining Ben will generally follow commands, that it’s easier to start with “it’s time to” so that you can blame the clock. I don’t want Ben growing up thinking that he has this power over his dad, and I don’t want him being confused when he says “no” to a question only to have someone say that it really wasn’t a question. I mean even just that sentence is confusing.
Okay, end ranting. I know this is a triviality. And I know that Tom being a little weak in his directions is much better than him being overly forceful. But I hate to see him undermining our control, okay?
I don’t have a problem with the pacifier parents. We were for a little while, until I realized we were “plugging” Ben whenever he made any noise, but I don’t think all parents who use pacifiers do that. I’m a bit put off by the anti-thumb parents. Especially when they’re talking to me and telling me that they would NEVER let their six-old-baby suck her thumb, “because I can take away a pacifier.” With Ben on my back. With his two fingers in his mouth.
And I know, he constantly has his fingers in his mouth, but if I tell him to remove them he does. But it’s comforting to him. And what else do babies have for comfort at this point? It just seems a little cruel not to let them put their fingers in their mouths.
Anyway, I just had one of these encounters, and I couldn’t help but feel a little offended with her staring at Ben as she complained about kids sucking their thumbs. And I wanted to ask her what the problem is with it? It’s more likely he’ll stop by the time he’s in preschool, the germs he picks up may boost him immune system, I never had to get up in the middle of the night to reinsert a pacifier, and I’m not the one jamming it in to get him to shush. All I see is positives. But I’d love to hear from someone with a different point of view. What are the positives to a pacifier? Why would you be against thumb-sucking? And, if you have older kids, have you ever thought about it one way or the other after the habit stopped? It just seems like one of those things that wouldn’t matter at all in the end.
So the bike ride didn’t work so well, but I think we’ve learned some valuable lessons. First, it is a bad thing to try new things right before nap time. Second, it is a good idea to make sure Ben can comfortably sit all the way up in a helmet (we will be adding a pillow so that he’s more comfortable). Third, mirrors are vital to comfortably maneuvering a trailer around the highway without feeling like your kid is going to be dumped bodily into the oncoming traffic and have his head squashed like a casaba melon. But I’m excited to try again later this weekend.
As a child I wasn’t treated as well as we all should be. I don’t think that it’s necessary to get into it in detail, but it’s something that I think I need to say. It affects me every day that I spend with Ben. It’s a whisper in my ear for every decision that I make. Basically it’s important for me to tell you this, even if it isn’t important to you.
I don’t let Ben cry. I don’t think that people who let their children cry-it-out are bad people. I believe that is a decision each family needs to make for itself. But we don’t let Ben cry. I have this fear that mistreating a child is a little like alcoholism, and so, just as I don’t drink alone or ever have more than one drink in a sitting, I don’t let Ben cry. This doesn’t mean I think people who let their children cry are mistreating their children any more than I think people who have an occasional drink alone or order two drinks at a bar are alcoholics. I’m just afraid that there’s a slippery slope for some of us.
Another example: I am afraid of people who yell at their kids.
I am not a coward. I apologize too much, and I may be timid at times, but I am not a coward.
Really.
But when someone yells in my presence I have a desire to run away. It doesn’t matter if they’re yelling at a dog or merely to have their voice heard across the street. Every muscle in my body tightens up and I can feel my heart beat in my throat. And with Ben it is worse. If Ben is near me I suddenly have a keen understanding of where each and every exit is, where the crowd is thinnest, where that tree is that I might hide behind.
I think I can get over this. I think I can prevent myself from passing along this fear to Ben. Although, please don’t take this to mean that it’s okay to yell in my presence. I really don’t find it an effective form of communication.
What really scares me, what gives me nightmares is yelling myself. I worry about losing control and kicking in a door. Or hitting him. Or knocking him down. Or telling him “y’know, I wanted a life, too.” I have lost control of my anger in the past. And, like being drunk, the moment isn’t ever too clear in my memory. Mostly it was during high school and college, the only recent time being after one of the cats took a swipe at Ben when he was a tiny, tiny baby (you may have noticed I don’t speak of my cats anymore, they’re in good loving homes now).
I believe I’m more in control of my emotions now. And I’ve never hurt anyone. But I’m terrified of it anyway. I can’t imagine anyone ever thinking they had the capacity to hurt a child. I can’t imagine that if anyone loved a child as much as I love Ben that they could ever lose control of their anger, but I know that it happens every day. Can you really say, without a shadow of a doubt, that it could never be you if you know that it’s possible for other people?
And every little thing that Ben does reminds me of a parallel in my own childhood. And I thought that would make it bad, like picking at a really old scab or re-breaking a bone. Honestly? There’s a relief in it. Maybe it’s that each day with Ben I’m able to rewrite memories of what childhood is, even if it isn’t my own. Maybe it’s that I don’t need to remember that stuff anymore. Maybe it’s the feeling that I’m breaking that cycle. Maybe it’s just that I enjoy every minute of every day so much that there isn’t any room for anything worse less than that.
And these are the things that go through my head. These are the things that I’m really trying to share when I talk about values. And I have been trying for months now to figure out how to write this without embarrassing my family, whom I love. But these things need to be written. Because I need to figure out the mathematical principles of love and discipline, of safety, security, and boundaries. I need to learn how to hold on to my children without crushing them, and the formula wasn’t written down for me by my own parents.
I just finished Big Lessons for Little People, which is amazing. It’s sort of the whole reason for this post. There’s a section that talks about parents afraid to yell at their kids and all the damage that may cause. It’s amazing. I really think that just about everyone should read it, even if you don’t agree with everything she says.
Forgive me while I wax geeky and continue to go on about values. I promise to find something new to discuss next week. We went to Boston last week and values, and the misguided values I received from my family, have been on my mind. I am doing my best not to (unfairly?) categorize my parents or my upbringing. It’s tough at the moment.
We are currently (very slowly) reading Harry Potter to Ben. We’ve been reading chapter books to him at bedtime since the day we brought him home from the hospital. We will continue to do so until he tells us he’s sick of it. Maybe longer. We enjoy it and he seems to.
We’ve just met Hermione Granger on the train and the discussion the kids have about the Houses rung true to me. I’ve taken all the silly “tests” about which House I’d be in, and, while I think they’re rubbish, I do think that everyone really knows which House they’d be in. Because it isn’t about what you’d be good at, it’s truly about what you value. If the Gryffindor House were really only for the brave then Cedric Diggory would have been placed there, as well as others. And it would have been far less likely that Ron’s whole family would have been placed in the same house. I believe he was placed there because Ron’s parents did a fantastic job of passing on their values (although why Ron’s mom can’t knit a shirt herself and used sew-on patches for the Christmas sweaters really troubles me, it’s one thing not to knit at all, but to use MAGIC for KNITTING? UGH!).
Gryffindor values duty, or, as it is put elsewhere, chivalry. People find their true duty often contradicts laws and authority, as clearly happens time and again in Harry Potter. Ravenclaw values the attainment of knowledge. Slytherin values power ambition. And Hufflepuff values loyalty. (The difference between duty and loyalty? Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Or the Tick and Arthur.)
So, in trying to flesh out the values I want to teach Ben (who, poor kid, gets to be my guinea pig) I’m finding it easier to ask myself, “What would get him into Gryffindor?” Valuing friendship, honesty, risk-taking, bravery, standing up for the less fortunate and downtrodden. The truth is that it’s just vague enough to be a good stepping stone. Also, it makes it easier for me to not discount other people’s value systems. Sometimes I’m far too judgmental, and it really isn’t something I want to pass on to Ben.
So what about you? What is your North Star for these evaluations, whether religious, fictional, familial, etc. ? Or am I the only crazy one who thinks about these things as I lay in bed waiting for my son to fall back asleep or start crying so I can decide either go back to sleep or get myself up?
Ben is nine months old. I really can’t believe how fast the time has flown by. Sometimes it’s tough, sometimes it’s, well, I don’t want to say “EASY,” but it’s really is sometimes; it is ALWAYS wonderful. I think it’s time now, however, that I admit that the only thing I can be right now on this blog is a mommy-blogger. I have tried and tried to come up with subjects unrelated to my kid or my new life as a SAHM, only to find that it all comes back to this. So, okay. I concede.
Make sure your complaints are heard. For the last few years I’ve worked hard to stop whining, to focus on the positive. However, there is something to be said in making sure that people know you’re not happy. Maybe things can be fixed, maybe they can’t, but making sure that the person with the power to fix things has at least heard you (instead of just complaining to friends and family) can go a long way toward fixing the problem. And if things can’t be fixed, well “grant me the serenity…”
An opportunity for a new friend is always worth a smile. No matter how miserable Ben may be (and he usually isn’t too miserable) due to a lack of a nap or teething, he always jumps at the chance to see a dog or wave at another baby. It’s a friendly excitement that I love. I’m a bit of an introvert and a little shy around people I don’t know. Whenever we go to the park and are standing around other moms and dads I try to remember this. Talking to other people with a smile on my face always makes me feel amazing.
When in doubt, laugh. New experiences (running his toes under the tap, standing in the rain on a hot day, being held by a new person) will sometimes freak Ben out a little. He has a little grimace that shows he’s not completely at his ease and looks at us. If we laugh he will laugh and start to enjoy himself. Much like smiling, above, it helps to diffuse the situation a little.
Take care of food and sleep first. I think this is pretty self-explanatory.
I can love someone enough to be covered in puke.
I don’t think there are a whole lot of serious essentials in rearing a child, however, I found these things to be incredibly helpful for these first months:
Moby Wrap (I hate being shackled to a carriage, also, I’ll be getting an Ergo soon for the warmer weather)
The iMonitor from Graco (at least 75% of the moms I know have this one and agree it is the best out there)–if our apartment didn’t have thick walls that block out almost all noise, however, we probably wouldn’t have gotten it for such a small place
For the past week I’ve been thinking about how judgmental I’ve become as a mom. I’m not the only one who is, and I’ve been wondering why.
An article by Hanna Rosin, The Case Against Breast-Feeding started it off. I was furious reading this article, I was seething and almost couldn’t finish it. How DARE she say that breast-feeding isn’t just the greatest thing ever invented. How DARE she try to convince me that it would be okay if I decided to stop. And, since one of the things I worked very hard for in therapy is the ability to question my very strong emotions, I stepped back and tried to calm myself down. I finished the article, trying to maintain a distance.
The article is well-written and well-researched. And it isn’t the first thing that has made me question some of the fanaticism of the breast-feeding brigade. (The first being a poster which mentioned that for every 9 formula-fed children who get sick with some disease, only 1 breast-fed baby gets sick. This is just a really, really tricky use of statistics.)
So, great article that doesn’t tell me not to breast-feed, why would it piss me off? It has nothing to do with me or my decision to breast-feed my son. Why did I find myself wishing to print it out so that I could tear it into tiny pieces and light it on fire?
Because it questions my belief that I am the best mother ever.
Yes, I know I’m not the best mother ever. I even realize that I’m not always the best mother I could be. But I try. And I am trying really hard to find what is best for my family. Making these decisions is not easy. And they feel like the heaviest decisions I’ve ever had to make. I look at my son and see a potential person; what if by not reading him this book today he will grow up to not love reading? What if I hold him too much and he grows up to become needy and high-maintenance and thus has no friends? What if staying home with him turns him into a misogynistic, clingy asshole afraid of strong women? Every day is fraught with the perilous possibility of making the wrong decision.
Except for the decision to breast-feed.
I have done my best not to look down on mothers who don’t breast-feed. Even when it all goes perfectly and easily, like it has for me, it sort of sucks. Don’t get me wrong, I love every moment with Ben, and it’s a sweet moment between him and me, but sometimes I wish that it could be a sweet moment between Dad and Ben just as easily. I wish that in order for Ben to eat I didn’t need to feed him or pump (though I got lazy and stopped giving him a bottle so now he won’t take one. Damn.). It really is a decision that each mother needs to make. On her own. Without my disapproval or any one else’s. (But definitely with support, everyone needs support!)
But not looking down or thinking that they’re bad mothers is NOT the same as not thinking that I’m better than they are. I mean, deep in my heart. The way that you think that you’re the better person because you flossed this morning, or because you see someone with a brownie on their plate when you have the salad. We do this. We compare ourselves to others every day. Because we want to be the one who wins.
Being a mother means you play that game for two people. You need to win and your child needs to win. And if you can do the winning thing for your child you win that much more. And you can’t win unless someone else is losing. And this breast-feeding thing was the one thing you could be sure you were winning with. And this article took that away.
In the end, though, this information is freeing. It says that no one is losing. I’ll take Amy’s “license to be the best mom you can be” over winning a “best mom” trophy any day. I choose to breast-feed. I enjoy breast-feeding, and it’s cheaper than formula. And I would have chosen it regardless of the studies. The studies just made the decision easier. And, in having that easy decision, I should stop my holier-than-thou attitude and let other moms nourish their adorable infants in peace.
Because, seriously, isn’t motherhood hard enough, beating each of us up every single day. Shouldn’t we at least get a little slack from our fellow moms?
I adoreHalf Full, which studies “the science of raising happy kids.” Not only does it report on interesting studies and help teach practices for mindfulness and gratitude, I always feel as though they stress “good enough” instead of “perfect” in raising children. Also, I find a lot of the articles help me in reprograming myself to be happier.
Over the years I’ve realized just how strongly confirmation bias can affect a person’s outlook on life, and the actions they take (or, more accurately with those I know, don’t take) to improve their situations. I’ve also found that it can be helpful when trying to start a new habit, running for example. When I was running I suddenly started noticing how many people were outside running every day. It seemed everyone I met was a runner. It helped to create momentum in my desire to be outside exercising. And I’ve used this bias to help myself be a little more frugal by surrounding myself with blogs focused on frugality or saving and listening to Dave Ramsey‘s podcast just about every day. A bit of a reversal of the “but, Mom, Everyone has one!” attitude I had in grade school and junior high.
While I’ve learned how to get confirmation bias to work for me, I’ve lately, with the birth of the Little Frog, been feeling the affects of cognitive dissonance. There are specific attitudes about life and habits that I feel are important to teach the little man. Gretchen Rubin, who is slowly becoming a very wonderful role-model in my life, calls them “Commandments.” Since I first read her commandments I’ve been trying to work on my own, but it wasn’t until my son came along that I could really put them into words.
Because suddenly I knew I was going to need to teach them.
Suddenly they NEEDED words. But once they were a bit more clearly defined, I came to realize how poorly I uphold these all-important precepts. And, ever so slowly (seriously, seriously slowly), I’ve been correcting the actions I take which don’t conform to these beliefs. How else could I teach my son if I don’t model the behaviors I expect? Not only would he not learn from me, he’d see that his mom was a hypocrite! I’d feel like a hypocrite. Wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.
And then, yesterday, I get another dose of the wonderful confirmation bias (because everyone is thinking about cognitive dissonance right now …), as well as a little boost to keep my son’s lessons in mind while I go through my day. Preach What You Plan to Practice was a rather interesting article on how cognitive dissonance helps people to change their own unhealthy habits. By telling others that unsafe sex is bad and then being asked about their own habits, college students were subjected to their hypocrisy. This resulted in a change in condom use which lasted at least six months for a large percentage.
So, I am creating my commandments. They are now and, I hope, will continue to be what I consider important for living a good, healthy, respectable, and regret-free life. Writing them down has helped, so far, to keep them concrete and fresh in my mind. Hopefully when they are taped to my wall they will increase the dissonance between my beliefs and my actions. They are:
Do what needs to be done. (Stolen straight from The Happiness Project, I admit, but it resonates so strongly.)
Treat everyone with respect, whether you believe they deserve it or not. We are not here to judge. (Man, this is a hard one for me.)
Exercise your body and your mind a little everyday.
Do reward yourself for the tough stuff, do take breaks, do allow yourself time off from the everyday stuff.
Send thank you notes. Write them by hand.
Keep your home tidy enough to invite anyone in at any time.
Collect memories, not things.
Kindness is more important than wealth.
Make, and love, mistakes.
Being on time is a sign of respect, but don’t rush, and don’t make yourself crazy if you’re late.
Don’t rush. One year at a time, one month at a time, one week at a time, one day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time, one moment at a time. Enjoy the process.
I know, there are more than 10. And I think they need to each be tighter (I really love how Gretchen’s are only a few words apiece). But for now they’ll work and searching for perfection will just allow me to procrastinate further. As the weeks go on, I’ll try to put my thoughts down about each one: why I think each is important, how I expect to teach it. I hope that you’ll help me with examples or ideas on how to live these in my life, and how to share them with the Little Frog.
I would love to hear the precepts you live your life by; feel free to share them in the comments. I’d also be interested to know if you disagree with any of mine.
Every year seems to be better than the last. Even with some of the crappy things that have happened in the last few, it seems that life just gets more and more worth living. I can’t begin to express how excited I am for this new year. For the last year I am grateful for too many things to name, but the top of the list consists of my son, my husband, my mother and the way our relationship has evolved, and the fantastic friends, both old and new, that I am blessed to have. I’m also pleased to have discovered the essays of Anne Lamott.
Sometimes my gratitude reminds me of the feelings I had as a Girl Scout that everything was taken care of, that I had the power to fix just about anything, that the world really was alright. It’s incredibly corny. I’m beginning to be okay with that.
This year, 2009, is about routines, schedules, and creating stability for Ben, Tom and myself. Each month I’ll be setting two new habits for myself, one for my health and one for my home. This month’s are flossing and creating a basic cleaning schedule. My home is dirty, but it’s cluttered. And I hate when I accidentally go a little longer than I like changing my sheets or washing the tub. And I sort of hate doing that stuff.
But when I have a schedule even doing the things I hate seems fun. The structure of a weekly/monthly schedule helps me feel centered. And so I’ll be setting up something VERY rudimentary. My hope is that it will grow to encompass all of the chores that must be done, but for now I’ll settle for just having a better idea of what I need to accomplish before the week is out (c’mon, I’ve a 4-month-old baby, I can’t really hope to have tasks for the day).
Any pointers on how to follow a cleaning schedule? What do you keep on yours?
This was a beautiful movie. I was amazed that, contrary to reviews I’d read and heard, I ended up really disliking the subject. He misinterpreted so much great reading! But watching someone make these mistakes and seeing the grief of family and friends really hit a nerve and turned this movie into something much deeper than what I had expected (and, yes, I did expect the final outcome, I had just expected to agree more with the young man’s decisions).
My main problem with this movie is probably a plus for many: I was taken out of it every time Eddie Vedder sang. His voice is too iconic for a movie of this depth. I wanted to lose myself in the landscape and the problems of this youth, instead I kept being reminded of my own adolescence and high school dances.
1. Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs
4. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
So, seven random things about me:
I miss blogging terribly! I wish I could get my schedule in hand faster, but right now sleep takes precedence. Like mt slow return to running, just knowing it will happen eventually is enough.
In a similar story to Jay’s public bathroom story, I hate walking through doors held in that “walk under my arm like it’s a bridge” manner. I wish men would realize how terrifying this can be. I was grabbed and kissed by a guy who did this. A man who reeked of some cheap alcohol.
In the TMI, but sort of scientifically interesting category: I have extra nipples, four of them to be exact. Two of them stopped being truly noticeable by the time I was 12, a third looks more like a freckle now, and the fourth I was told might give me problems and produce milk. So of course I looked forward to finding that out throughout my pregnancy. And yes, when my milk came in my nubbin produced milk and hurt like hell because I couldn’t do anything about it. The pain went away after a day or so, and I barely notice it now.
When I was young I feared that my pillows hated me. I didn’t anthropomorphize EVERYTHING, but my pillows were def. angry with me.
All the girls in my family have “nne” in their names. I HATE when people don’t bother to spell my name correctly, or mispronounce it. There was a woman on the Tim Gunn shoe with my name, who rhymed it with LeAnne. I believe SHE is what is wrong with America.
My gravest fears are that I will have my Dad’s temper or my Mom’s propensity for clutter. They’re both amazing people, but I think everyone sees things in their parents they couldn’t stand in themselves.
A major change I’d like to focus on this year is cutting down on the noise. It’s really difficult for me. I like to be involved in the various stories and discussions going on (if mostly as a lurker), and I like having multiple sources of news. I like listening to podcasts, and reading blogs, and watching twitterific, and watching TV, and listening to music, and following people on flickr, and reading magazines, and…. It goes on.
I would also like to cut back on the number of things I expect myself to do (keeping up with everything I want to keep up with, maintaining a good relationship with my husband, being a good friend, exercising, making dinner more often, staying in contact with my family, working as much as I have been recently, etc.) and keep things in order better, rather than scrambling so often to fix the problems which could have been prevented (at least partially by shutting down some of my “channels”).
I’d also like to eat better. Stop reaching for cheap candy bars to satisfy my cravings.
AND I would like to spend less, especially on stuff I don’t need, stuff I don’t really want, and stuff that I have no use for after the first month. This is a problem for me particularly when it comes to clothing, because I hate shopping for clothing. I’ll walk in, find something I can stand, buy it, get home and hate it in a week.
So this year I want to focus on “value.” I would like to slow down and truly consider the value of my time, my health, my money, my attention, my energy and my available space (HATE clutter). Determining value is a way to bring balance. What am I willing to give up? What will make my life completely fulfilled? The hidden cost of stuff is really something to consider when buying, watching, reading, or doing just about anything. Choosing to watch TV means that I am either not doing something else, or I am segmenting my attention between TV and another activity. Choosing to carry my yarn with me (which is a little bit of a pain) has an added reward of calming me down through the repetitive motion if I get a little anxious about one thing or another. Anything I buy and bring home takes up a certain amount of space and I always feel a bit of guilt at spending any amount of money. If I fool around instead of getting ready for tomorrow, I end up being really stressed in the morning. Mindless Eating talks about all the unconscious food decisions we make on a daily basis, but what about all of the decisions we make concerning our personal resources?
I hope to be more aware of these choices and try to make them based on what’s important to me, in the long run, rather than what’s good for the moment. To start I’ve been working on a personal mission statement and a five-year plan. Of course it’s a slow process, but I figure having a focus is really the only way to know which direction I should be moving in.
I’m not making any “true” resolutions this month, though I plan to make some in each of the months to come. Maybe I mean that I plan to make “changes,” in any event, this and my post from two days ago refer to the two “base” goals I mean to make, in order to build the tools necessary for changing my life. Whatever you call your goals for the year, this list of tools to manage your resolutions is fantastic. I use fitday.com and use hiveminder.com for my To Do list.
I think of this resolution as a “base coat” something which needs to be applied before I can hope to enact any real changes. If I were to try to “lose weight” prior to getting myself into the habit of “just showing up” to the gym, my chance of success will be lessened. What are your “base coat” resolutions? What tools could you give yourself to help you succeed? Or do you disagree that a “base coat” is necessary to make positive changes in your life? Please feel free to leave a comment, I’d love to hear some other ideas.
I’m half stealing this from The Happiness Project, but it’s come up a number of times in my searches for happiness and improvement. It is impossible to make a change in your life if you don’t show up.
Case in point: my in-laws and I have a strained relationship at best. My hatred of talking on the phone has convinced them that I don’t like them. So? I show up, get on the phone when they call. Stop thinking about how I feel on the defensive when talking to them, especially when I’m put on the speaker phone. If you read the excellent post at the Happiness Project you’ll also see that familiarity breeds affection, which, will help especially well in this instance.
Another, probably more important aspect of Just Showing Up for me, is the Feel the Fear…and Do It Anyway concept. Usually my desire to not show up has the most to do with one fear or another: the fear that no one really likes me, the fear that I won’t have a good time, the fear that I’ll fail at whatever it is. Regardless of what may happen, how badly a conversation may go, I always feel better if I do it than if I don’t. This is, certainly, one of the most difficult things to learn.
Finally, in Just Showing Up, it is necessary to be in the moment. I can’t Just Show Up by living in the past or thinking about the future. I must Just Show Up Now. Not tomorrow. And it doesn’t matter if I didn’t show up yesterday. I must show up today.
There are a few ways I sabotage myself in just showing up:
I don’t get organized with the things I need.
Attending Al-Anon meetings is an important part of improving my depression. Yet for a couple months I would wait until the half hour before I needed to leave to before getting my stuff together, which would give me an excuse of being very late, what with the train schedule and all.
Current attempt to fix:
I’ve developed nightly and morning rituals of checking what will be needed the next day and what might be needed due to weather and how I felt that day. I try to make sure my bag is packed before I go to bed. I remember doing this in grade school, and, to be honest, I really don’t know why we outgrow this habit. Being prepared is one of the first steps to getting out the door, why would we slow this down and start the day in a panic?
I don’t give myself the time I need to get somewhere.
While this can sometimes be attributed to not being organized, I do take the Metro basically everywhere. Let’s face it, it’s not always the best idea to rely on the WMATA’s schedule. And I hate being late.
Current attempt to fix:
I’ve been writing the time of each appointment/date 15 to 20 minutes earlier. While I know that some people will change their clocks back to fix this, I am not in control of many of the clocks in my life. I may know that the appointment is listed too early, but it reminds me of my commitment to myself to provide all the tools needed to succeed.
I allow myself excuses.
This is actually the crime I am most guilty of in my life. I can avoid accountability for things by having an excuse. If I’m late I can skip the appointment (because, in my head, it is far more rude to be late, than to not show up). I can give the excuse that I’ve been too busy at work (which may be true), and not feel bad that I didn’t feel like attending something. And, of course, this is fine, but not if I’ve already made the commitment to attend.
Current attempt to fix:
Well, stop allowing excuses. If I’m not going to go, fine, but it’s no longer okay to have an excuse for it. I’m not going because it’s not important enough for me to go. If I force myself to look at my priorities, I am responsible for my actions. It may sound like a simplistic fix, but for the moment it’s been working. Of course, organizing my priorities is something else to work on in the next few weeks.
Proof that I am just showing up: I’m writing this. I’ve been putting off writing anything here for the “right” moment. Those never come. You can always come up with (here’s that word, again) excuses for putting something off. So this post is a toast to not putting things of anymore, and to Just Showing Up.
I think of this resolution as a “base coat” something which needs to be applied before I can hope to enact any real changes. If I were to try to “lose weight” prior to getting myself into the habit of “just showing up” to the gym, my chance of success will be lessened. What are your “base coat” resolutions? What tools could you give yourself to help you succeed? Or do you disagree that a “base coat” is necessary to make positive changes in your life? Please feel free to leave a comment, I’d love to hear some other ideas.
I love the idea of Wikipedia. I trust, perhaps at my own peril, the basic goodness, intelligence and truthfulness of people as a mass. Sure, there are people out there who want to mess with things (*cough* Colbert), but there are too many people out there who care to see things done right.
This weekend I read the great article on Wired that introduced me to reCaptcha, which I’m now using on my comments. This allows everyone who comments the chance to at once prove they’re human AND help with the digitization of books. The idea of the human race being used as a CPU really appealed to me. And I’ve been enjoying the whole idea for awhile now.
But, back to the Wikipedia, the entire web population is invited in to create a true encyclopedia, of all basically all knowledge. There are certain rules, and people to solve disputes and to kick out rule breakers. And there are enough altruistic knowledge-heads out there who want to assure it’s all going to plan. So they fix errors. They delete bad information. They even make the language prettier. And they seem to do it because it’s fun for them.
Why doesn’t this work in the real world. I have a difficult time with the fact that there are assholes out there who’ll leave macaroni salad in the metro seat cushions. On “bad” days I try to pick fights with them, on good days I just pick up the trash I see. If everyone who is a Good Wikipedia did this, maybe there wouldn’t be so much trash.
Why don’t we take pride in our environment the way we take pride in a clean Wikipedia? We don’t clean up people’s messes, fight over the misplacement of a newspaper in the trash barrel (when there’s CLEARLY a newspaper recycling bin two steps ahead, just as easy to put it into, and still completely in your way), or try to make it pretty by donating. Isn’t this a community that was here before the web? Why would someone fight for days about someone’s death or non-death, but I don’t see anyone other than myself ever picking up the soda cup on the street corner? (I mean, c’MON you STEPPED ON it.)
I admit that this is a large part of my sadness. There’s a hatred I’m trying to shake for my aunts and uncles not caring enough about my dad to see him in the hospital and a recent childhood friend gunned down in a convenience store in MA, but I’m TRYING to see the good. It makes my day when I see someone offer up a seat on the train for someone else (no, not for me, though that’s nice, too) or when someone sits down next to me and says “Good morning” (seriously, made me remember for the hour train ride that other people are NOT simply obstacles to get around).
I don’t know, I’m corny. I sit in front of a computer most of the day. But wouldn’t it be SO great if we actually did all work together to do a LITTLE piece? Just like every time you make an entry into the wikipedia you contribute to the entire breadth of the web’s knowledge, or when you fill out my comment form you translate one teeny word?
J(h)aiku. Just another form of bad poetry. But also a way to get me to post.
You can also see how far I’m running at http://runlog.media.mit.edu/users/profile/491. I’d love a site that’s as simple as this program with an rss feed, but I prefer the simplicity to the rss. Priorities, you know.
Yoga-ing again. And lifting weights on the day I don’t run. But I’ve decided that it’s the distance that matters, not the calories. I can concentrate on these things, too, but it’s the distance I want to track. And it’s such a nice, simple, clean site. It’s pleasant in a way I can’t explain.
I “missed” yesterday. Only I didn’t because I spent a good deal of time writing this entry. But now it doesn’t look so good.
This picture from Random_Squeegee (as luck would have it, another graphic designer) is from King’s Castle Land which was once in Whitman, MA. We passed the Stop & Shop and development which now stand in it’s old location. The Toll House Cookie spot is also pretty much gone.
It’s always odd to come back here. But things seem even more faded today. Some street signs are all but unintelligible, it is the freshly painted homes with well-kept lawns which stand out, and all the trees in my mom’s lawn are dying.
I know it’s not as bad as all that. There’re new things. But they tend to be things like the Stop and Shop. This town is no longer the huge world it once was. A place where we could conquer dragons (yes, you could feel the flame when you stood under them. A place where giants roamed.
I wish I had photos of King’s Castle. I may sift through the old photos my mom has here. Let you see the world as I did as a kid.
So, I’ve decided to start writing for at least 1/2 hour each day. Can’t decide whether photos count in that. But, tonight I’m tired. And so I don’t believe I can do an hour.
I had a great birthday. I love seeing my family. I love seeing my mom. And Dames, well, you’re just swell.
Tom gave me the Lorem Ipsum bracelet from Veer and the Dark Side of the Garden t-shirt from Threadless that I had ealier, but lost. I love these gifts, but the greatest part was the super sweet things he said in the card about celebrations we’ll celebrate for the rest of our lives.
, which is amazing. It’s sort of the whole reason for this post. There’s a section that talks about parents afraid to yell at their kids and all the damage that may cause. It’s amazing. I really think that just about everyone should read it, even if you don’t agree with everything she says. 
