I am on a mission. In an effort to be both a happier person and to become more at peace with myself, I am consciously being more honest and open about my life and trying to limit the amount that I compare myself to others. Of course, this is all related to believing that I am enough. My hope is that a side-effect of this mission will be that others will do the same for themselves.
I was truly amazed at how many people opened up to me after my "I am enough" post from last month. My honesty seemed to trigger something inside others and made them feel safe being honest with me. In return the outpouring of honesty made me feel really good. It helped me understand that we all have something in common: we are all human and no one has it all together.
Over the course of my life I have made a pretty strong habit of comparing myself to others. I almost constantly look at other people's lives and wish that I had what they have. I have had unrealistic views of others' lives and therefore completely unrealistic and unattainable expectations for myself. After 32 1/2 years of life, I'm finally understanding that it's simply impossible to be 100% organized in every aspect of my life, to have a spotless home, to be perfectly thin and fit, to be well-dressed, and to be a perfect mother and wife 24 hours a day all at the same time. Not if I want to be happy too! I can probably have all of those things but not all at the same time, not all the time. And the fact is no one does!
Here's my theory: If we were all more honest with each other, we would all feel better about ourselves and be more satisfied and grateful for what we have and who we are. I believe that the show we put on for each other is making us all less happy and more dissatisfied with our lives and our selves.
One of my friends recently told me that she feels like facebook has become a land for braggers. Another one of my friends just wrote on her blog this morning that logging on to Pinterest can make her feel inadequate. I don't disagree with either of these observations. The truth is nobody's life is as perfect as they make it seem on facebook and nobody actually completes all the crafts they pin to Pinterest. I'm 100% sure of that. If we could all just be honest with each other, we wouldn't feel so much pressure to live up to the fake lives we think our friends are living!
By the way, if I'm wrong, please let me know. If you are the perfect person who has it all together, whose house is never a mess, whose children are always happy, whose dog has always been walked, who has the perfect marriage, and the perfect wardrobe, and you are also incredibly happy and at peace with yourself, please comment on this post and let me know. I will be in awe of you forever.
I am making a commitment to be more honest. I will let you see that my life is not perfect all the time, not at all. That is going to make me happier and, ironically, probably make my life a little more perfect.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Gotta Get This Under Control: The ongoing saga of My Whacky Thyroid
A few weeks ago I wrote about some challenges I've dealt with over the past 8 months or so. During that difficult time I lost over 50 pounds. Of course there is the fact that I had just had a baby and I did have some pregnancy weight to lose but that was only about 25 - 30 pounds. After giving birth I was hardly exercising and I was eating like a pig and somehow the pounds were just melting off. This sounds like a dream come true, right?
Everywhere I went people were telling me I looked great and complimenting me on losing the baby weight so quickly. The compliments felt good and I was happy to be losing weight but at the same time I knew that something must be wrong. People would ask me to share my weight loss secret I would just shrug my shoulders and say, "I guess it's just the stress of having two kids, I dunno." I knew that wasn't it though. On the inside I was feeling anxious about what must be wrong with me. I started to imagine all kinds of horrible scenarios. I felt shaky and dizzy a lot of the time. I had frequent headaches, hot sweats, and a racing heartbeat. I felt tired, more tired than I had when I was pregnant. Because I was feeling anxious and depressed at the time I thought my physical symptoms could be related. I really didn't know what was going on but I was definitely nervous about it.
In April I decided to see a doctor and I requested blood tests. I'm so glad I did. My doctor called me back almost immediately and told me that my blood tests showed high levels of thyroid hormone. She asked me to come in for more blood tests and told me that if the second round confirmed the first results then she was going to refer me to an endocrinologist.
Sure enough the second round of blood tests came back confirming that I was hyperthyroid.
After waiting several weeks for an appointment, I finally got in to see the endocrinologist. Much to my disappointment, he really had no answers for me. He simply ordered more blood work. I was deflated. I wanted answers now. I wanted to start feeling better. I'd been feeling physically awful for months at this point.
Finally, after three rounds of blood tests I was diagnosed with Graves' Disease. Graves' Disease is an autoimmune disorder that causes the thyroid gland to produce too much thyroid hormone resulting in hyperthyroidism. Of course I immediately went home and "googled" Graves' Disease and found that many of the symptoms, including fatigue, frequent sweating, increased appetite, weight loss, nervousness, and anxiety, matched my symptoms exactly.
The diagnosis brought on mixed emotions for me. In many ways I felt relieved. I finally had answers to why I'd been feeling so crappy and why I'd lost so much weight so fast. On the other hand, any diagnosis of something that you will probably have to deal with for the rest of your life is a bit depressing. I sat with it for a few days, decided to go with the positive, and move on.
The endocrinologist prescribed a medicine that I had to take twice a day and he told me he wanted to see me again in three months to check my thyroid levels again. Today was my three month check up. Some good news: I've been taking my medicine as directed and for the most part my nasty symptoms have decreased. More good news: I'm not hyperthyroid anymore. Some sort-of-bad news: Now I'm HYPOthyroid. This was not shocking to me. I'd been suspecting it because over the past three months I've gained almost 20 pounds. This weight gain has been incredibly discouraging for me because I've been making every effort to avoid the inevitable. I've been working out 4-6 days a week and I've been watching my diet. Despite my efforts, I've noticed that my clothes are a bit snug and the numbers on the scale have been increasing. A symptom of hypothyroidism is weight gain so it made sense to me today when my doctor told me that my medication dose had been a bit too high and had lowered my thyroid activity into the hypothyroid category. So that's good news I guess. At least I have an excuse for packing on the pounds!
My doctor is changing my medicine dose and wants to see me again in another three months. I'm feeling hopeful that the new dose will help my weight issues as well as continue to control my symptoms. I'm feeling good about the fact that my doctor had a positive attitude today when I saw him. I'm trying not to feel discouraged that it may take a few tries to get my medicine just right.
The thyroid is a pretty remarkable gland that most people probably take for granted every day. It's responsible for controlling how are body uses energy and how it makes proteins. That's a lot of work for one little gland! I don't take my thyroid for granted any more. I wish mine worked the way it's supposed to but it doesn't. It's whacky and it's made me feel pretty whackadoo! Yeah that word pretty much sums it up. I feel like I'm still riding this up and down roller coaster of thyroid mania! Hopefully it will be under control soon.
If you'd like more information about Graves' Disease or hyperthyroidism, I found the Mayo Clinic website to be helpful:
Mayo Clinic - Graves' Disease
Mayo Clinic - hyperthyroidism
Obviously I am not a doctor and I am not in any way an expert on these topics. I will say though, that if you are also feeling "whackadoo", you may want to ask your doctor for some blood tests. For me, it helped rule out some more serious concerns as well as get some answers and, most importantly, some piece of mind.
Everywhere I went people were telling me I looked great and complimenting me on losing the baby weight so quickly. The compliments felt good and I was happy to be losing weight but at the same time I knew that something must be wrong. People would ask me to share my weight loss secret I would just shrug my shoulders and say, "I guess it's just the stress of having two kids, I dunno." I knew that wasn't it though. On the inside I was feeling anxious about what must be wrong with me. I started to imagine all kinds of horrible scenarios. I felt shaky and dizzy a lot of the time. I had frequent headaches, hot sweats, and a racing heartbeat. I felt tired, more tired than I had when I was pregnant. Because I was feeling anxious and depressed at the time I thought my physical symptoms could be related. I really didn't know what was going on but I was definitely nervous about it.
In April I decided to see a doctor and I requested blood tests. I'm so glad I did. My doctor called me back almost immediately and told me that my blood tests showed high levels of thyroid hormone. She asked me to come in for more blood tests and told me that if the second round confirmed the first results then she was going to refer me to an endocrinologist.
Sure enough the second round of blood tests came back confirming that I was hyperthyroid.
After waiting several weeks for an appointment, I finally got in to see the endocrinologist. Much to my disappointment, he really had no answers for me. He simply ordered more blood work. I was deflated. I wanted answers now. I wanted to start feeling better. I'd been feeling physically awful for months at this point.
Finally, after three rounds of blood tests I was diagnosed with Graves' Disease. Graves' Disease is an autoimmune disorder that causes the thyroid gland to produce too much thyroid hormone resulting in hyperthyroidism. Of course I immediately went home and "googled" Graves' Disease and found that many of the symptoms, including fatigue, frequent sweating, increased appetite, weight loss, nervousness, and anxiety, matched my symptoms exactly.
The diagnosis brought on mixed emotions for me. In many ways I felt relieved. I finally had answers to why I'd been feeling so crappy and why I'd lost so much weight so fast. On the other hand, any diagnosis of something that you will probably have to deal with for the rest of your life is a bit depressing. I sat with it for a few days, decided to go with the positive, and move on.
The endocrinologist prescribed a medicine that I had to take twice a day and he told me he wanted to see me again in three months to check my thyroid levels again. Today was my three month check up. Some good news: I've been taking my medicine as directed and for the most part my nasty symptoms have decreased. More good news: I'm not hyperthyroid anymore. Some sort-of-bad news: Now I'm HYPOthyroid. This was not shocking to me. I'd been suspecting it because over the past three months I've gained almost 20 pounds. This weight gain has been incredibly discouraging for me because I've been making every effort to avoid the inevitable. I've been working out 4-6 days a week and I've been watching my diet. Despite my efforts, I've noticed that my clothes are a bit snug and the numbers on the scale have been increasing. A symptom of hypothyroidism is weight gain so it made sense to me today when my doctor told me that my medication dose had been a bit too high and had lowered my thyroid activity into the hypothyroid category. So that's good news I guess. At least I have an excuse for packing on the pounds!
My doctor is changing my medicine dose and wants to see me again in another three months. I'm feeling hopeful that the new dose will help my weight issues as well as continue to control my symptoms. I'm feeling good about the fact that my doctor had a positive attitude today when I saw him. I'm trying not to feel discouraged that it may take a few tries to get my medicine just right.
The thyroid is a pretty remarkable gland that most people probably take for granted every day. It's responsible for controlling how are body uses energy and how it makes proteins. That's a lot of work for one little gland! I don't take my thyroid for granted any more. I wish mine worked the way it's supposed to but it doesn't. It's whacky and it's made me feel pretty whackadoo! Yeah that word pretty much sums it up. I feel like I'm still riding this up and down roller coaster of thyroid mania! Hopefully it will be under control soon.
If you'd like more information about Graves' Disease or hyperthyroidism, I found the Mayo Clinic website to be helpful:
Mayo Clinic - Graves' Disease
Mayo Clinic - hyperthyroidism
Obviously I am not a doctor and I am not in any way an expert on these topics. I will say though, that if you are also feeling "whackadoo", you may want to ask your doctor for some blood tests. For me, it helped rule out some more serious concerns as well as get some answers and, most importantly, some piece of mind.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
I am enough
I've been seeing a therapist for about 6 months now. In January and February of this year I was feeling so overloaded, so stressed, that I felt like I had a 50 ton weight on my shoulders squishing me flat against the pavement. I felt tired, sad, depressed, anxious, basically awful. Some days I felt like I wasn't ever going to feel better again. It turns out there were several factors contributing to these feelings, some of which I had no idea about at the time (thyroid issues being one).
Some time in February, I decided I needed to get a grip and take care of myself. With support from some family and friends I decided to contact both a medical doctor and a therapist. Pretty quickly I began to see a lot of changes in my mood and my outlook on life. I found out that I'm pretty good at taking care of myself. I don't like to be in a bad mood so I was very open to the suggestions my therapist gave me. I was proactive. I did my "homework" diligently each week, I thought about myself and my feelings all the time, I worked hard on myself, and I started to see the benefits within just a few weeks.
There have been ebbs and flows and ups and downs over the past months but I am definitely continuing to feel better and better. I'm still seeing the therapist, although not as often, because there's still stuff here to work on. The fact is there probably always will be...
What I really wanted to write about is what I discovered about myself. Pretty early on in my sessions I discovered that I had been telling myself some very negative thoughts. I'd been repeating a mantra to myself: I am not good enough. In almost every situation in my life I had been telling myself this and I hadn't even been aware of it. And, I'd been doing it for a long time. Probably years. "I'm not a good enough parent," "I'm not a good enough wife," "I'm not good enough at my job," "I'm not a good enough friend," "I'm not good enough at keeping my house clean, or cooking, or doing my hair, or exercising, or eating well." Should I go on? I won't because it's just repetitive and depressing and, quite frankly, ridiculous. I realize the ridiculousness of it all now but I didn't then. I was astonished when I realized how down on myself I had been.
I've worked on this a lot over the past few months. It's probably the main thing I've been working on with my therapist. I've read self-help books (let me know if you'd like any recommendations), I've worked on crafting new mantras (I've learned that a simple one is best: I am enough), and I've examined my relationships. I've also examined my life choices very closely and made some big life changes like deciding to quit working and become a stay-at-home mom.
I go days, sometimes weeks now, where I don't tell myself that I am NOT enough. I've been doing so well that some days I don't even need to consciously tell myself that I am okay, that I AM enough. Some days I can even forget about the 50-ton weight I felt back in the winter.
Yesterday though, I was feeling grumpy. I wasn't feeling the 50-ton weight, maybe just 5 or 10 pounds, but something was getting me down for sure. Serendipitously I had an appointment scheduled with my therapist last night and was feeling optimistic all day that I would feel better after our session. I shared the grumpy feelings I'd been having with her and she immediately wanted to "dissect" what was going on with me. She asked me a lot of questions and asked me to describe and analyze specific scenarios of my day. Finally she asked me rhetorically, "could any of this be because you are telling yourself that you are not enough?"
A big metaphorical light bulb went on in my head and I couldn't believe I had been telling myself that all day and not even noticed! "Oh my gosh!" I replied to her. "I cannot believe I didn't even know I was thinking that about myself today. I've been forgetting to tell myself that I AM enough."
"It all comes down to that, doesn't it?" She was being rhetorical again.
Yep, it does. This is something I'm going to be struggling with for a long time, I think. But it doesn't get me down to realize that. It encourages me. It makes me feel good to understand myself. I know what I'm dealing with and I can confront it. I can keep repeating my new mantra: I am enough. If I repeat it every day I know I will believe it because I HAVE believed it. There will be days when I don't but I will know what to do and I have family and friends who will support me and remind me of the truth: I am enough.
Some time in February, I decided I needed to get a grip and take care of myself. With support from some family and friends I decided to contact both a medical doctor and a therapist. Pretty quickly I began to see a lot of changes in my mood and my outlook on life. I found out that I'm pretty good at taking care of myself. I don't like to be in a bad mood so I was very open to the suggestions my therapist gave me. I was proactive. I did my "homework" diligently each week, I thought about myself and my feelings all the time, I worked hard on myself, and I started to see the benefits within just a few weeks.
There have been ebbs and flows and ups and downs over the past months but I am definitely continuing to feel better and better. I'm still seeing the therapist, although not as often, because there's still stuff here to work on. The fact is there probably always will be...
What I really wanted to write about is what I discovered about myself. Pretty early on in my sessions I discovered that I had been telling myself some very negative thoughts. I'd been repeating a mantra to myself: I am not good enough. In almost every situation in my life I had been telling myself this and I hadn't even been aware of it. And, I'd been doing it for a long time. Probably years. "I'm not a good enough parent," "I'm not a good enough wife," "I'm not good enough at my job," "I'm not a good enough friend," "I'm not good enough at keeping my house clean, or cooking, or doing my hair, or exercising, or eating well." Should I go on? I won't because it's just repetitive and depressing and, quite frankly, ridiculous. I realize the ridiculousness of it all now but I didn't then. I was astonished when I realized how down on myself I had been.
I've worked on this a lot over the past few months. It's probably the main thing I've been working on with my therapist. I've read self-help books (let me know if you'd like any recommendations), I've worked on crafting new mantras (I've learned that a simple one is best: I am enough), and I've examined my relationships. I've also examined my life choices very closely and made some big life changes like deciding to quit working and become a stay-at-home mom.
I go days, sometimes weeks now, where I don't tell myself that I am NOT enough. I've been doing so well that some days I don't even need to consciously tell myself that I am okay, that I AM enough. Some days I can even forget about the 50-ton weight I felt back in the winter.
Yesterday though, I was feeling grumpy. I wasn't feeling the 50-ton weight, maybe just 5 or 10 pounds, but something was getting me down for sure. Serendipitously I had an appointment scheduled with my therapist last night and was feeling optimistic all day that I would feel better after our session. I shared the grumpy feelings I'd been having with her and she immediately wanted to "dissect" what was going on with me. She asked me a lot of questions and asked me to describe and analyze specific scenarios of my day. Finally she asked me rhetorically, "could any of this be because you are telling yourself that you are not enough?"
A big metaphorical light bulb went on in my head and I couldn't believe I had been telling myself that all day and not even noticed! "Oh my gosh!" I replied to her. "I cannot believe I didn't even know I was thinking that about myself today. I've been forgetting to tell myself that I AM enough."
"It all comes down to that, doesn't it?" She was being rhetorical again.
Yep, it does. This is something I'm going to be struggling with for a long time, I think. But it doesn't get me down to realize that. It encourages me. It makes me feel good to understand myself. I know what I'm dealing with and I can confront it. I can keep repeating my new mantra: I am enough. If I repeat it every day I know I will believe it because I HAVE believed it. There will be days when I don't but I will know what to do and I have family and friends who will support me and remind me of the truth: I am enough.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
More Memories
This was my grandparents' house. The house has been in the family for a long time because it used to be owned by my grandmother's aunt before my grandparents owned it. Now my uncle and aunt own it and live in it. We went there for a BBQ last night and it was the first time I'd seen it since they remodeled and moved in. A lot of memories came flooding back to me.
One Christmas we gave my Grandpa a dancing, singing Santa and every time someone turned it on Grandpa would dance along with it, swinging his hips from right to left. This room reminds me of that.
Here is the kitchen. My aunt and uncle remodeled it before they moved in. It used to be tiny with barely enough room for two people to stand in comfortably. I used to hang out there with Grandma while she prepared meals. I remember talking and talking with her in this room. It looks so different now, it's barely recognizable. I think my aunt and uncle did a nice job with it though. I like the way they opened up the space and added the bar.
My grandmother loved this sun room. One summer she turned it into a bedroom for me and my friend who I'd brought with me from California. Grandma put two small beds in here and curtains over the windows so we'd have privacy. We'd stay up late into the night talking and giggling about boys. Grandpa would get up several times a night and bang on the door to let us know that it was time to quiet down and get to sleep. That was a fantastic summer.
This is the beautiful backyard. I remember doing many cartwheels here. I'm surprised there aren't watermelons growing back there because we spit many a watermelon seed in the grass each summer. I also remember seeing fireflies in this backyard on summer evenings. It was always a nice place but it's even nicer now because my aunt has an amazing green thumb.
On another note, today my mother, my aunt, and I went through all of Grandma's jewelry. No one had looked through it since she passed away three years ago. There was a lot of it. Some costume, some valuable, and some very sentimental. My aunt found a white envelope and handed it to me. On it, in my grandma's neat cursive, it said "from Juliette".
I opened it and inside was a beaded necklace I had made for her when I was probably about 10 years old. Seeing the necklace brought back strong emotions for me. I tried to hold back tears but I couldn't.
I was fine after just a few moments but the whole experience was a little overwhelming. Some of the jewelry was so familiar to me. I had seen Grandma wear it a hundred times. I pulled out one silver chain that I know my grandma used to wear all the time and I swear I could still smell her sweet scent lingering on it.
This trip has just been full of so many memories...
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Canada
I'm in Canada right now visiting my mom's side of the family. Elgin County, Ontario, Canada is a really familiar place for me. I spent every summer here as a child. We would usually stay at my grandparents' house or at my aunt's cottage by Lake Erie. I would swim, play with cousins and friends, go to camp, eat ice cream, play games, and lots of other summer activities. I grew up thinking this was the best place in the entire world. As a kid, when I imagined my perfect place it was here, with my grandma and grandpa.
I haven't been here for three years.
My grandfather passed away in 2001 and then in 2009 my grandma also passed away. I brought my infant son here to meet her twice before she passed and then I brought him again in July of 2009 for her memorial service. I had every intention of continuing to come at least once a year but, for one reason or another, it hasn't worked out that way.
After three years of being away, in some ways, it feels like no time has passed at all. Many things are exactly as they always have been. At the same time it feels different here.
As we were sitting waiting to board our plane at LAX last night I suddenly had a realization that my grandma wasn't waiting for us to arrive. It was a heavy moment for me as I let that realization hit me and sink in. I remembered how she would always greet us at her front door with an excited hug and a sing-songy "hellooo". It brings pangs of sadness to me now, as I write this, that I will never hear that hello again.
Tonight we went to get ice cream at Shaw's, a popular ice cream shop. I'm not exactly sure how long it's been around but I know it's been there a long time. At least long enough that my mom and her siblings went there as children. I asked my aunt how long the building has looked the way it does now and she said that it has as long as she can remember. I reminisced about going there many times as a child and choosing bubble gum ice cream. I would lick the ice cream and store the chunks of bubble gum inside one cheek. Then, when all the ice cream and cone was gone, I would chew that stored up gum all the way home to my grandma's house. As I think about it now I can taste the sugary sweetness in my mouth and it turns my stomach. What a disgusting ice cream flavor! Tonight I went with the oh-so-much-more-sophisticated "Smores" flavor. I enjoyed it. But mostly I enjoyed watching my son lick away at his strawberry cone. I think it may have been the first ice cream cone he's ever had and he barely got a drop on him. His neatness in eating it reminded me that he is growing up so fast.
I'm happy to be here with my two children. I'm looking forward to sharing many of my summer memories with them and to making new memories with them too.
I haven't been here for three years.
My grandfather passed away in 2001 and then in 2009 my grandma also passed away. I brought my infant son here to meet her twice before she passed and then I brought him again in July of 2009 for her memorial service. I had every intention of continuing to come at least once a year but, for one reason or another, it hasn't worked out that way.
After three years of being away, in some ways, it feels like no time has passed at all. Many things are exactly as they always have been. At the same time it feels different here.
As we were sitting waiting to board our plane at LAX last night I suddenly had a realization that my grandma wasn't waiting for us to arrive. It was a heavy moment for me as I let that realization hit me and sink in. I remembered how she would always greet us at her front door with an excited hug and a sing-songy "hellooo". It brings pangs of sadness to me now, as I write this, that I will never hear that hello again.
Tonight we went to get ice cream at Shaw's, a popular ice cream shop. I'm not exactly sure how long it's been around but I know it's been there a long time. At least long enough that my mom and her siblings went there as children. I asked my aunt how long the building has looked the way it does now and she said that it has as long as she can remember. I reminisced about going there many times as a child and choosing bubble gum ice cream. I would lick the ice cream and store the chunks of bubble gum inside one cheek. Then, when all the ice cream and cone was gone, I would chew that stored up gum all the way home to my grandma's house. As I think about it now I can taste the sugary sweetness in my mouth and it turns my stomach. What a disgusting ice cream flavor! Tonight I went with the oh-so-much-more-sophisticated "Smores" flavor. I enjoyed it. But mostly I enjoyed watching my son lick away at his strawberry cone. I think it may have been the first ice cream cone he's ever had and he barely got a drop on him. His neatness in eating it reminded me that he is growing up so fast.
I'm happy to be here with my two children. I'm looking forward to sharing many of my summer memories with them and to making new memories with them too.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Breakfast
Yesterday I started this blog by declaring that my life is amazingly wonderful and even the most mundane chores are not so bad because I'm just that happy. Well, it's all true but, honestly, who doesn't have gripes? I certainly do, every day of the week. And although right now my gripes are lessened, they are definitely still there. One of my gripes is meals -- planning them, preparing them, cooking them, cleaning them up, it all just rubs me the wrong way. The one and only thing I like about meals is eating them and I've noticed that so far, in my new life, that's not always something that happens on a regular basis.
This morning, for instance, was one of those times.
I wake up and notice it's 7:00 (whoo hoo!). My usual alarm clock, my 3-year-old son, is still sleeping (hooray!). This morning it's my 9-month-old daughter who wakes me with her sweet coos. Usually waking up at this unusually late hour would be a delight but today I have an appointment that I have to be on time for and I realize we are going to be rushed. Needing to be somewhere on time and waking up late is not a good recipe for a smooth morning, nor one where I get to eat.
I get up and drowsily walk into my daughter's room where she's smiling up at me from her crib. Such a lovely site first thing in the morning. I take her to the kitchen to get her breakfast. I put her in her high chair and scatter some Cheerios on her tray. Snacking on Cheerios always keeps her content until I can get the rest of her food ready. So far so good. I look at the clock to check the time and take note that we need to leave in 50 minutes.
I hear my son get up and I hope quietly to myself that he is in a good mood this morning. It's hit or miss with him and if this is a grumpy day there's no way we are getting out of the house in 50 minutes.
He comes into the kitchen smiling and I feel relieved, we have a chance of being on time. I greet him with a snuggle and ask him what he wants for breakfast. This is where things start to go down hill. Fast.
"What are the choices, Mommy?" he asks in his not-quite-awake whine. He finishes his question with a pathetic whimper.
"Bagel, cereal, toast, fruit, yogurt," I know as soon as I finish the list I've given too many choices. Why did I ask in the first place? Why didn't I just prepare something and put it in front of him? But this insight is too little too late.
"I don't want any of those things. I want pancakes and eggs."
"We don't have time for pancakes and eggs this morning. Mommy has an appointment. Please pick one of the choices I gave you."
My son doesn't answer and I continue to get my daughter's breakfast ready and begin feeding it to her.
"Honey, if you don't pick something for breakfast Mommy is going to pick for you. I know you are going to want to watch a show and we won't have time for that if you don't eat something now."
"Okay, fine Mommy, I'll have cereal," he says in voice that sounds like he's resigned to eating cow poop for breakfast.
"Great!" I say and I get it out, putting some delicious fresh raspberries in the cereal because I know my son loves raspberries.
I place the bowl of cereal and berries on the table in front of him and take a glance at the clock. 40 minutes.
"Mommy, I wanted to do it!" my son shreaks at me.
"What did you want to do?"
"Put the berries in!" He's obviously not fully awake yet because he's half crying half delirious. "I want the berries to be in the milk, not the cereal."
I'm not exactly sure what he's asking for but I don't have time for this right now so I just get another bowl out of the cabinet, place it in front of him and tell him to do what he wants with his food just as long as he eats it. I then pause for a minute to watch him take each and every berry out of the first bowl and place it next to the bowl on the place mat. Then he proceeds to scoop all of the now soggy cereal out of the first bowl and plop it into the second bowl. With each messy plop, a little milk splatters on the table. I cringe a little with each splatter. Then, with his fingers, he places each berry back into the original bowl, and finally, scoops all the very soggy cereal back into the original bowl on top of the berries and the milk. Yuck.
"You better eat that," I tell him as I turn away to pour myself some coffee.
As I turn toward the coffee I hear my son exclaim. I turn around to see that he has spilled milk down the front of his pajama shirt and all over the table.
"Oh no! Now I have to take off my shirt!"
Before I can help him, my son has both his shirt and pants off and is bringing them to me. Before he reaches me he trips and drops his pajamas in the dog's water bowl. I start to tell my son to leave them there so I can intercept what's about to happen next but I don't get the words out before he leans down, picks up a fully soaked pair of pajamas and runs across the kitchen, soaking the floor with dog water.
"Look, Mama, my pajamas fell in Cooper's bowl! They are wet!"
"Yes, I see. Please stop running and leave them there on the floor, okay?"
I look at the clock 20 minutes before we need to leave. I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen with a stream of dog water rushing directly toward my bare feet. I'm still in my pajamas and so are both my kids. My baby girl is fed but my son has only had a few bites of soggy cereal. I haven't had my coffee and I certainly haven't had a bite to eat.
"Huh," I wonder to myself, "is a glass of wine an acceptable breakfast?"
This morning, for instance, was one of those times.
I wake up and notice it's 7:00 (whoo hoo!). My usual alarm clock, my 3-year-old son, is still sleeping (hooray!). This morning it's my 9-month-old daughter who wakes me with her sweet coos. Usually waking up at this unusually late hour would be a delight but today I have an appointment that I have to be on time for and I realize we are going to be rushed. Needing to be somewhere on time and waking up late is not a good recipe for a smooth morning, nor one where I get to eat.
I get up and drowsily walk into my daughter's room where she's smiling up at me from her crib. Such a lovely site first thing in the morning. I take her to the kitchen to get her breakfast. I put her in her high chair and scatter some Cheerios on her tray. Snacking on Cheerios always keeps her content until I can get the rest of her food ready. So far so good. I look at the clock to check the time and take note that we need to leave in 50 minutes.
I hear my son get up and I hope quietly to myself that he is in a good mood this morning. It's hit or miss with him and if this is a grumpy day there's no way we are getting out of the house in 50 minutes.
He comes into the kitchen smiling and I feel relieved, we have a chance of being on time. I greet him with a snuggle and ask him what he wants for breakfast. This is where things start to go down hill. Fast.
"What are the choices, Mommy?" he asks in his not-quite-awake whine. He finishes his question with a pathetic whimper.
"Bagel, cereal, toast, fruit, yogurt," I know as soon as I finish the list I've given too many choices. Why did I ask in the first place? Why didn't I just prepare something and put it in front of him? But this insight is too little too late.
"I don't want any of those things. I want pancakes and eggs."
"We don't have time for pancakes and eggs this morning. Mommy has an appointment. Please pick one of the choices I gave you."
My son doesn't answer and I continue to get my daughter's breakfast ready and begin feeding it to her.
"Honey, if you don't pick something for breakfast Mommy is going to pick for you. I know you are going to want to watch a show and we won't have time for that if you don't eat something now."
"Okay, fine Mommy, I'll have cereal," he says in voice that sounds like he's resigned to eating cow poop for breakfast.
"Great!" I say and I get it out, putting some delicious fresh raspberries in the cereal because I know my son loves raspberries.
I place the bowl of cereal and berries on the table in front of him and take a glance at the clock. 40 minutes.
"Mommy, I wanted to do it!" my son shreaks at me.
"What did you want to do?"
"Put the berries in!" He's obviously not fully awake yet because he's half crying half delirious. "I want the berries to be in the milk, not the cereal."
I'm not exactly sure what he's asking for but I don't have time for this right now so I just get another bowl out of the cabinet, place it in front of him and tell him to do what he wants with his food just as long as he eats it. I then pause for a minute to watch him take each and every berry out of the first bowl and place it next to the bowl on the place mat. Then he proceeds to scoop all of the now soggy cereal out of the first bowl and plop it into the second bowl. With each messy plop, a little milk splatters on the table. I cringe a little with each splatter. Then, with his fingers, he places each berry back into the original bowl, and finally, scoops all the very soggy cereal back into the original bowl on top of the berries and the milk. Yuck.
"You better eat that," I tell him as I turn away to pour myself some coffee.
As I turn toward the coffee I hear my son exclaim. I turn around to see that he has spilled milk down the front of his pajama shirt and all over the table.
"Oh no! Now I have to take off my shirt!"
Before I can help him, my son has both his shirt and pants off and is bringing them to me. Before he reaches me he trips and drops his pajamas in the dog's water bowl. I start to tell my son to leave them there so I can intercept what's about to happen next but I don't get the words out before he leans down, picks up a fully soaked pair of pajamas and runs across the kitchen, soaking the floor with dog water.
"Look, Mama, my pajamas fell in Cooper's bowl! They are wet!"
"Yes, I see. Please stop running and leave them there on the floor, okay?"
I look at the clock 20 minutes before we need to leave. I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen with a stream of dog water rushing directly toward my bare feet. I'm still in my pajamas and so are both my kids. My baby girl is fed but my son has only had a few bites of soggy cereal. I haven't had my coffee and I certainly haven't had a bite to eat.
"Huh," I wonder to myself, "is a glass of wine an acceptable breakfast?"
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Because I Want To...
I've been thinking about starting a blog for a while but many negative
thoughts have discouraged me from doing it. I've been worried that I'd
have nothing to write about, that my writing would stink, that no one
would read it, that too many people would read it, that people would
judge me for what I write, that mommy blogging is cliche, etc. etc. The
list goes on...
But finally, today, I thought to myself, who the heck cares?! I can write a blog if I want to, everybody else is doing it so why not me? So today, on my 9th wedding anniversary and my 13-day anniversary of leaving my job (yes, I know, 13 days is not an actual anniversary), I am starting a blog, because I want to.
(That's been my mantra lately: "Because I want to." I've been working hard to take care of me. There will probably be some future blog posts about that, but that's not a topic for today.)
I've been thinking about and wanting to be a stay at home mom for a long time, probably forever. It's been a desire that has been hard to admit to myself. It's weird sometimes how things that you want are there in your heart but you can't say them out loud. I couldn't say this desire out loud because it would mean giving up my income, my contribution to our family. I felt a self-imposed pressure to be everything to everyone. I didn't like the idea of letting go of my work life, which was a huge part of who I was (who I still am, I think). I identified myself as a teacher and who would I be if I weren't that? What if I was a horrible stay-at-home mom? What if I couldn't stand being with my kids? These were all questions that went round and round in my head. There was another question I couldn't stop asking though: what will happen if I don't give it a try? Will I regret it? A few months ago something changed inside me and I knew the answer to that last question. Yes, I would regret it. I was finally able to admit my desire to myself and to my husband. After a lot of talking, talking, and more talking we decided to make it happen.
So, I've been doing this a total of 12.5 days and so far I love it. I've literally woken up every day for the past 13 mornings and thought to myself, "I am so lucky, I can't believe this is my life." Several times a day, every day, while playing with my kids on the floor or taking my daughter for a walk or picking my son up from his morning at preschool, I think to myself, "This is the life!" I'm living the life I've always wanted.
Right now this is all new, it's like the honeymoon of stay-at-home parenting and everything is butterflies and sunshine. Literally--it's summer so we are seeing a lot of butterflies and sunshine. We've spent many hours at the pool and the park, with friends, and with family. I've already started getting pretty serious about couponing (pretty exciting, right?), I've taken up knitting (it's not just for grandmas anymore!) and already completed a hat (that doesn't fit) for my baby girl, and, obviously, I've started this blog. I was even paying bills the other day and I thought to myself, "I'm paying bills. Blah. I don't like paying bills but I like it right now because my life is AWESOME!" Ridiculous, I know. These are the kinds of thoughts I'm having right now. I feel like I wouldn't even mind getting my teeth drilled because I GET TO STAY HOME. WITH MY KIDS!
I know that every day won't always feel as magnificent as it does now. I'm sure this overwhelming joy will probably start to wear off at some point. As time goes on, I'm sure paying bills will get annoying again and getting my teeth drilled will actually sound horrible like it should. But, for now, I'm reveling in the joy of the newness and the excitement.
On Monday we joined some friends for an outdoor preschool class at a local park. I said aloud to my other mommy friends, who have been staying home with their kids for quite some time, "I can't believe it's a Monday morning and I'm here with my kids. I'm so excited!". The other moms agreed that it was a wonderful thing and one of them said that my joy was reminding her of how lucky she is. I'm going to try to remember the feeling of that moment forever.
But finally, today, I thought to myself, who the heck cares?! I can write a blog if I want to, everybody else is doing it so why not me? So today, on my 9th wedding anniversary and my 13-day anniversary of leaving my job (yes, I know, 13 days is not an actual anniversary), I am starting a blog, because I want to.
(That's been my mantra lately: "Because I want to." I've been working hard to take care of me. There will probably be some future blog posts about that, but that's not a topic for today.)
I've been thinking about and wanting to be a stay at home mom for a long time, probably forever. It's been a desire that has been hard to admit to myself. It's weird sometimes how things that you want are there in your heart but you can't say them out loud. I couldn't say this desire out loud because it would mean giving up my income, my contribution to our family. I felt a self-imposed pressure to be everything to everyone. I didn't like the idea of letting go of my work life, which was a huge part of who I was (who I still am, I think). I identified myself as a teacher and who would I be if I weren't that? What if I was a horrible stay-at-home mom? What if I couldn't stand being with my kids? These were all questions that went round and round in my head. There was another question I couldn't stop asking though: what will happen if I don't give it a try? Will I regret it? A few months ago something changed inside me and I knew the answer to that last question. Yes, I would regret it. I was finally able to admit my desire to myself and to my husband. After a lot of talking, talking, and more talking we decided to make it happen.
So, I've been doing this a total of 12.5 days and so far I love it. I've literally woken up every day for the past 13 mornings and thought to myself, "I am so lucky, I can't believe this is my life." Several times a day, every day, while playing with my kids on the floor or taking my daughter for a walk or picking my son up from his morning at preschool, I think to myself, "This is the life!" I'm living the life I've always wanted.
Right now this is all new, it's like the honeymoon of stay-at-home parenting and everything is butterflies and sunshine. Literally--it's summer so we are seeing a lot of butterflies and sunshine. We've spent many hours at the pool and the park, with friends, and with family. I've already started getting pretty serious about couponing (pretty exciting, right?), I've taken up knitting (it's not just for grandmas anymore!) and already completed a hat (that doesn't fit) for my baby girl, and, obviously, I've started this blog. I was even paying bills the other day and I thought to myself, "I'm paying bills. Blah. I don't like paying bills but I like it right now because my life is AWESOME!" Ridiculous, I know. These are the kinds of thoughts I'm having right now. I feel like I wouldn't even mind getting my teeth drilled because I GET TO STAY HOME. WITH MY KIDS!
I know that every day won't always feel as magnificent as it does now. I'm sure this overwhelming joy will probably start to wear off at some point. As time goes on, I'm sure paying bills will get annoying again and getting my teeth drilled will actually sound horrible like it should. But, for now, I'm reveling in the joy of the newness and the excitement.
On Monday we joined some friends for an outdoor preschool class at a local park. I said aloud to my other mommy friends, who have been staying home with their kids for quite some time, "I can't believe it's a Monday morning and I'm here with my kids. I'm so excited!". The other moms agreed that it was a wonderful thing and one of them said that my joy was reminding her of how lucky she is. I'm going to try to remember the feeling of that moment forever.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)