Yesterday I got disappointing news, which will be delved into via blogging soon enough, but I've had quite an interested communicative 24 hours and I'm going to jump into that today. Here we go!
I'm a highly-sensitive over-thinker, it is a blessing and a curse. When you attract people to you that lack empathy, it's torture, but when you find anyone who remotely attempts to "get you" it's like discovering a gold mine. The rollercoaster of emotions can be tough but I've been working very, very hard to better reach a medium.
I've been binge-ing way too much 90210 so when I got the bad news, I felt like organizing some kind of "Donna Martin Graduates" picket line or showing everyone we needed to "Save The Peach Pit," and write editorial type letters and go up against the big guys to save the little ones! Then I decided to just look at the alternatives and attempt to move forward.
I've done a lot of talking myself out of anxious situations lately and was actually complimented on it yesterday. It's so weird how we react to certain things and then people seem to be impressed by how well we manage those reactions. When I was 19, I had a boyfriend that was not a great guy. He lied to me a lot, stole from me often, probably cheat on me, and raised his hand to me threatening a hit a time or two.
When his roommates got wind of his pill problem and money issues, he was evicted, and I was on vacation only to come home to him picking me up at the airport 5 hours late and then having him attempt to turn me against some of my best friends. When I got home and heard from the roommates, at first I was in denial, there was no way it all came to that point. Once the issue was in front of me, and he had "borrowed" my car and my laptop, I just had get my stuff back and begin to repair the damage.
I was only 19, so we weren't "in love," but I thought maybe he actually cared about me. And when I found out all the deceit and that I'd lost money and some dignity, instead of throwing a tantrum I just thought, "Well, you learned a valuable lesson." One of his roommates was left on "Ali watch" and spent the day with me, the TV and a pizza and I remember him saying, "Ya know Alison, I gotta say, I really respect the way you're handling this. You don't deserve it. He was an asshole, but I admire you for keeping it together and moving forward instead of flipping out."
That's an odd but affirming compliment right? These kinds of sentiments I've experienced more lately. But I've also discovered that I deeply feel we lack a basic foundation of etiquette when it comes to people share their feelings anymore.
Now, in this day and age I hate throwing around the word "Normal." A favorite person in my life about 13 years ago said to me, "Normal is what you know." Based on that definition, and in my experience, when people share a disappointment, upset or loss it's often normal to say, "I'm sorry," or "That sucks," or "What a shame!" Something along those lines would suffice, but lately I have found these sentiments to be elusive.
Emotions are rough territory for everyone, but I tread lightly because more and more I feel that everyone just needs some kindness and support, no matter what their situation. With my daughter when she throws a fit I often tell her "I'm so glad you are sharing your feelings and expressing what's going on, but we can find the solution and it's important to calm down so we can figure this out." She responds so much better to that than my yelling about dealing with things, which can happen after a long day.
I've had friends tell me about great deals of stress on them from finances, relationships, jobs, children, and then some and I always try to listen intently and just say, "I'm sorry that happened," in one way or another. Usually you're met with "Don't apologize it's not your fault," but the CONDOLENCES are important to me; I'm showing I care and acknowledge that things are kinda crappy in that moment.
I haven't found the same kinds of responses from people lately, and it honestly makes me feel alienated and inclined to recoil from social interactions. We live in a world where suicide rates are high and when we lose those lives the stories are all, "They seemed fine, they were always happy, they brought so much joy." So, I think validation and acknowledgement of feelings are completely essential.
I had a friend tell me that schedules were so insane, that planning was rough and if a plan happened it would be last minute. I suck at those kinds of things. I'm a planner. It was in the midst of this conversation the text appeared and read, "I won't know my availability until later, and that's not fair to you." I just sat and read that for a minute. "That's not fair," I read again. Talk about a momentary affirmation and little win! Finally, my explanation of how hard it was for my anxiety and personality to plan like that was not only acknowledged, but respected wonderfully, with a single text! It was that response that helped me let down my guard and be more flexible, allowing for a joint, and "fair" planning to commence.
The thing is, I overthink enough to know that everyone operates on their own wavelength so I put a lot of energy into not becoming offended or upset when people don't have the response I'm looking for, but it doesn't take away that feeling of disappointment when you reach out to someone, and they aren't reaching back.
Some of my closest friends I've found in the past handful of years have been the people I can share my weirdest disappointments with but respond with a simple, "That sucks I'm sorry!" In fact I had a great girl friend text me when I was sad I had to get rid of my spin class and say "I know how much you loved spin and I'm sorry you can't go anymore." HOW AMAZING, but simple, IS THAT?
We are in a world where feelings are rampant and ever present in each exchange, text message and post. The inspirational quotes, the deep but maybe sad quotes, the silly memes, the ridiculous gifs, and the jokes are all the feels being shared. Basic etiquette asks for an acknowledgment of them. Why do you think Facebook has "likes," and now has "reaction" emojis? It's an acknowledgment. We need this more outwardly I feel, or maybe I just thrive on this more than most.
I encourage anyone to check in with each other and acknowledge. It could be a post about a crap day and a text that says "Hope tomorrow is better!" It could be a favorite show getting cancelled, it could be a bounced check and overdraft fee, it could be a family member dying or a cancer diagnosis, but when someone shares something that is affecting them, I hope we can all take a moment to just say, "That's rough," or "I'm so sorry you're going through that." We are quick to jump to applauding the great news, and quicker to divert to side stepping the uncomfortable news.
As far as all of these feels being published online, I just ask that we find a happy medium and not let a friend's feelings fall by the wayside. Life is hard enough, we need way more kindness and affirmation, and way less disregard. With that said, I'm going to check in with a bunch of people and get to supporting and acknowledging. I consider it research for this post and of course, will report back.
Thursday, March 14, 2019
Wednesday, March 13, 2019
Let's Get Serious And Talk About...Serving Sizes
This is a real discussion people...excuse my french but serving sizes these days, are BULLSHIT. No, seriously, we need to reevaluate our consumer lives I think.I have struggled with weight, I DO struggle with my weight, and I've had many a battle with food issues. But yesterday it sparked something blog-worthy.
Yesterday I started to feel off. I've been very conscious about what I'm eating and that I'm eating properly. Some may call me a food extremist because I can eat everything or nothing and still function, granted some ways of functioning are better than others. Nowadays, it's about paying attention to what I'm actually eating, how much of it and when I'm munching.
It's been easier than I thought, and productive. So I had a great breakfast and packed some apple sauce, some veggies and then some more fruit. My stomach started getting crampy, so of course I went for the banana to ease this early on. When water wouldn't help it to chill out, I broke out the apple sauce. By lunch it was still unhappy and I had to run to Publix anyway so I got myself a small to go pack of Cheez-Its:
The bag says, "Grab N Go." It's roughly the same size as a sandwich bag, maybe smaller. It was just $1.00, I hadn't had them in a long time and yay for salt! There was a 150 calorie count on the front under my thumb but what I looked at on the back was that they consider this "Grab N Go" bag to be 3 servings. THREE SERVINGS in this bag. Let me ask you, who is buying this bag to revisit once a day for 3 days? Because that person is an intensely specific, careful person!
So as you can see, the entire bag is 430 calories, which is roughly the same amount of calories as a breakfast bagel. This is just considered a snack. I got weirdly annoyed by this and it sparked this whole question of, how are we supposed to be "healthy" when Grab and Go snacks have the same calorie count as a small meal?
We live in a world with endless brands, choices and opportunities. There is gluten free, vegan, real cheese, processed cheese, fat free, low fat, no trans fat, reduced fat, etc, etc. It can be overwhelming, as life is already overwhelming. Trying to maintain the idea of "healthy" is ever-changing and really hard, in my opinion.
It's like in the 50's you had bacon, eggs, ham, toast and orange juice for just breakfast but everyone smoked cigarettes and looked trim! Now it's egg whites only or a super sized Big Mac meal with a Diet Coke and all the different sweeteners give you cancer. How can we keep up?
Full disclosure, I inhaled the entire Grab and Go pack, I mean, it was on the label to Grab and Go, I was just following directions. But also, my body needed something to calm it down. I used to do calorie and points count for weight watchers but I discovered that, for me, counting calories and points and getting on the scale so often created more unhealthy habits as a result. So I just found comfort with moderation. I can have a damned cupcake, I can't have 3. I can have a glass of wine, not a bottle.
But I stared at this package and thought, this is what's wrong with everyone being unhealthy; on the front it says 150 and in tiny tiny letters it discloses, "per serving" and then the back it shows you all the negative nutrition facts. It's like when you go to Starbucks and all of the calories are in huge numbers next to the price and name. You practically pay a penny a calorie for the latte anymore. This is why I switched to just black coffee. Less to obsess about, more caffeine.
I happen to have an extraordinarily horrible metabolism. It's the worst. I'm one bad test away from hyperthyroidism on the low end, but still. I work out hard, to be able to eat what I want...within reason. So I had some pangs of guilt with each Cheez-It but they were delicious and calmed my stomach so, win.
This calorie stuff bugged me. Sometimes I just don't want to know. I used to LOVE the caramel apple cider at Starbucks in the winter on a cold afternoon. When I was on weight watchers, I found out it was 8 points and like 800 calories. I could have 3 cans of soup and still not use that many calories. I will never drink one again. Sometimes I wish I never knew it was an evil yet delicious drink.
There are many ways in which it's important to know what you're putting into your body, especially with chemicals and preservatives and all, but can't we just have some buffalo chicken egg rolls without punishment? I just want the chocolate mousse without the side of guilt. Food is so awesome, let's stop shaming, shall we?
At and old job, I was working super hard on losing weight, and I got a serious public eating phobia. I had to be seen by these guys as the healthy person, I couldn't inhale Chik-Fil-A along side them. I had to look like the healthy girl. So I starved myself during my shifts a lot or just ate granola bars and a smoothie. It was not fun.
We are in a body positive place now more than ever, and it makes my heart happy because I want everyone to eat what they want, but there are definitely consequences when you do, and you have to be able to accept them. I do think that all of the calorie stuff, nutrition facts and serving sizes are poorly explained and marketed. These days I feel like we need need a class just to break this down for people because it's all a little crazy.
If you think about it, one meal at McDonald's is an entire day's calorie count or more, but will still leave you hungry. Some drinks could qualify as a meal's worth of calories. Keeping track can feel defeating at times and often, unfair. Every once in awhile a milkshake is due! We can splurge, just not every night. And finding that balance is so hard.
This is why "Cheat" days are a thing and they don't work for me personally, because I can pack a lot away in a day. I'd rather just be mindful of what I'm actually eating and allow myself a dessert or two when it occurs than shove it all into one day and starve myself the rest of the week. "Oh man I can't have that bread because Saturday I ate a whole loaf and then a cake, better stick with just lemon water and broth;" that's how it goes in my mind!
I used to think I could eat what I want and lose weight. Not so much. I made some pretty intense changes to allow for the occasional cupcake and a few glasses of wine. As you get older, workouts get harder, and you need to change up routines. But 400 some calories in Cheez-Its from time to time is worth an extra lap or two, in my opinion.
I'm not saying we need to individually package each serving and waste resources and plastic but I think it should be much easier to be healthy. From organic food being more expensive, to gym memberships being costly, to junk food seemingly being "always on sale" it's kind of a lot to expect us to adhere to serving sizes and put our money where our mouths are, so to speak. It takes a lot of effort to be conscientious.
So while this may come out as a bitter whining diatribe about first world problems, for me it is kind of a cry out of, "Can we make living healthy lifestyles, no matter what your size or preference, EASIER, and less stressful please?" I'm sure not everyone sits there, sees the serving size and thinks..."so do I not eat the whole thing even though I'm starving and it won't be good later, or do I eat the whole thing and then drink a lot of water the rest of the day?," but for those of us who already have an entire realm of food-related issues, it shouldn't be such a mental wrestling match. LET US EAT CAKE!
And while serving sizes are necessary, they feel pretty ridiculous lately. I mean two girl scout cookies are a serving size and like 200 calories, but don't lie to me and tell me you don't eat a whole ROW of them from the package. THEY ARE GIRL SCOUT COOKIES! Let's just be real people, and give us real servings, serving sizes and calorie counts, up front! Or we could make it funny, like "Eat the row and that's the same as bacon and eggs, just have a handful and you're good." I always opt for funny.
Parks and Rec's whole satire around Paunch Burger, the sugar and the sodas was so insanely funny, because it's entirely too true! In contrast, they had an episode where they had to make Kale and Chard, "sexy," and Leslie admitted how gross healthy food could be. We need to improve upon that but also allow ourselves to love and enjoy food. It is the spice of life, after all. Or is that something else.
So after this whole post, I bring us this, let's be conscious but not completely insane about serving sizes and allow everything in moderation. And now I ask that all of the food companies actually make serving sizes realistic because if you call it a grab and go bag that highly suggests a single serving. At least at McDonald's when you super size something, you know what you're getting. So Oreos, Snack Crackers and Junk Food alike, let's be real, just put the calorie counts of the whole bag on there so we know what we're up against. Even Starbucks tells you how many calories in a pumpkin spice latte, no matter how depressing. They don't expect you to condense 20oz into two servings.
Down off the weird soapbox, or perhaps food crate, I go!
Yesterday I started to feel off. I've been very conscious about what I'm eating and that I'm eating properly. Some may call me a food extremist because I can eat everything or nothing and still function, granted some ways of functioning are better than others. Nowadays, it's about paying attention to what I'm actually eating, how much of it and when I'm munching.
It's been easier than I thought, and productive. So I had a great breakfast and packed some apple sauce, some veggies and then some more fruit. My stomach started getting crampy, so of course I went for the banana to ease this early on. When water wouldn't help it to chill out, I broke out the apple sauce. By lunch it was still unhappy and I had to run to Publix anyway so I got myself a small to go pack of Cheez-Its:
So as you can see, the entire bag is 430 calories, which is roughly the same amount of calories as a breakfast bagel. This is just considered a snack. I got weirdly annoyed by this and it sparked this whole question of, how are we supposed to be "healthy" when Grab and Go snacks have the same calorie count as a small meal?
We live in a world with endless brands, choices and opportunities. There is gluten free, vegan, real cheese, processed cheese, fat free, low fat, no trans fat, reduced fat, etc, etc. It can be overwhelming, as life is already overwhelming. Trying to maintain the idea of "healthy" is ever-changing and really hard, in my opinion.
It's like in the 50's you had bacon, eggs, ham, toast and orange juice for just breakfast but everyone smoked cigarettes and looked trim! Now it's egg whites only or a super sized Big Mac meal with a Diet Coke and all the different sweeteners give you cancer. How can we keep up?
Full disclosure, I inhaled the entire Grab and Go pack, I mean, it was on the label to Grab and Go, I was just following directions. But also, my body needed something to calm it down. I used to do calorie and points count for weight watchers but I discovered that, for me, counting calories and points and getting on the scale so often created more unhealthy habits as a result. So I just found comfort with moderation. I can have a damned cupcake, I can't have 3. I can have a glass of wine, not a bottle.
But I stared at this package and thought, this is what's wrong with everyone being unhealthy; on the front it says 150 and in tiny tiny letters it discloses, "per serving" and then the back it shows you all the negative nutrition facts. It's like when you go to Starbucks and all of the calories are in huge numbers next to the price and name. You practically pay a penny a calorie for the latte anymore. This is why I switched to just black coffee. Less to obsess about, more caffeine.
I happen to have an extraordinarily horrible metabolism. It's the worst. I'm one bad test away from hyperthyroidism on the low end, but still. I work out hard, to be able to eat what I want...within reason. So I had some pangs of guilt with each Cheez-It but they were delicious and calmed my stomach so, win.
This calorie stuff bugged me. Sometimes I just don't want to know. I used to LOVE the caramel apple cider at Starbucks in the winter on a cold afternoon. When I was on weight watchers, I found out it was 8 points and like 800 calories. I could have 3 cans of soup and still not use that many calories. I will never drink one again. Sometimes I wish I never knew it was an evil yet delicious drink.
There are many ways in which it's important to know what you're putting into your body, especially with chemicals and preservatives and all, but can't we just have some buffalo chicken egg rolls without punishment? I just want the chocolate mousse without the side of guilt. Food is so awesome, let's stop shaming, shall we?
At and old job, I was working super hard on losing weight, and I got a serious public eating phobia. I had to be seen by these guys as the healthy person, I couldn't inhale Chik-Fil-A along side them. I had to look like the healthy girl. So I starved myself during my shifts a lot or just ate granola bars and a smoothie. It was not fun.
We are in a body positive place now more than ever, and it makes my heart happy because I want everyone to eat what they want, but there are definitely consequences when you do, and you have to be able to accept them. I do think that all of the calorie stuff, nutrition facts and serving sizes are poorly explained and marketed. These days I feel like we need need a class just to break this down for people because it's all a little crazy.
If you think about it, one meal at McDonald's is an entire day's calorie count or more, but will still leave you hungry. Some drinks could qualify as a meal's worth of calories. Keeping track can feel defeating at times and often, unfair. Every once in awhile a milkshake is due! We can splurge, just not every night. And finding that balance is so hard.
This is why "Cheat" days are a thing and they don't work for me personally, because I can pack a lot away in a day. I'd rather just be mindful of what I'm actually eating and allow myself a dessert or two when it occurs than shove it all into one day and starve myself the rest of the week. "Oh man I can't have that bread because Saturday I ate a whole loaf and then a cake, better stick with just lemon water and broth;" that's how it goes in my mind!
I used to think I could eat what I want and lose weight. Not so much. I made some pretty intense changes to allow for the occasional cupcake and a few glasses of wine. As you get older, workouts get harder, and you need to change up routines. But 400 some calories in Cheez-Its from time to time is worth an extra lap or two, in my opinion.
I'm not saying we need to individually package each serving and waste resources and plastic but I think it should be much easier to be healthy. From organic food being more expensive, to gym memberships being costly, to junk food seemingly being "always on sale" it's kind of a lot to expect us to adhere to serving sizes and put our money where our mouths are, so to speak. It takes a lot of effort to be conscientious.
So while this may come out as a bitter whining diatribe about first world problems, for me it is kind of a cry out of, "Can we make living healthy lifestyles, no matter what your size or preference, EASIER, and less stressful please?" I'm sure not everyone sits there, sees the serving size and thinks..."so do I not eat the whole thing even though I'm starving and it won't be good later, or do I eat the whole thing and then drink a lot of water the rest of the day?," but for those of us who already have an entire realm of food-related issues, it shouldn't be such a mental wrestling match. LET US EAT CAKE!
And while serving sizes are necessary, they feel pretty ridiculous lately. I mean two girl scout cookies are a serving size and like 200 calories, but don't lie to me and tell me you don't eat a whole ROW of them from the package. THEY ARE GIRL SCOUT COOKIES! Let's just be real people, and give us real servings, serving sizes and calorie counts, up front! Or we could make it funny, like "Eat the row and that's the same as bacon and eggs, just have a handful and you're good." I always opt for funny.
Parks and Rec's whole satire around Paunch Burger, the sugar and the sodas was so insanely funny, because it's entirely too true! In contrast, they had an episode where they had to make Kale and Chard, "sexy," and Leslie admitted how gross healthy food could be. We need to improve upon that but also allow ourselves to love and enjoy food. It is the spice of life, after all. Or is that something else.
So after this whole post, I bring us this, let's be conscious but not completely insane about serving sizes and allow everything in moderation. And now I ask that all of the food companies actually make serving sizes realistic because if you call it a grab and go bag that highly suggests a single serving. At least at McDonald's when you super size something, you know what you're getting. So Oreos, Snack Crackers and Junk Food alike, let's be real, just put the calorie counts of the whole bag on there so we know what we're up against. Even Starbucks tells you how many calories in a pumpkin spice latte, no matter how depressing. They don't expect you to condense 20oz into two servings.
Down off the weird soapbox, or perhaps food crate, I go!
Tuesday, March 12, 2019
Your Thirties Are For Saying No To Everything You Got Away With In Your Twenties
With a birthday looming, I'm starting to reflect much more. Does that just come with age? This is also our 10 year mark for moving to Florida as of July. So here I am, getting all philosophical and introspective.
The amount of adulting and growing up I've had to do the past few years is actually kinda unfair, but I maintain I'm better for it. Your twenties are for partying, credit card debt, adventures and working hard specifically so you can play hard. I remember working 6 days a week between two jobs, drinking every night and Sunday sleeping until noon, mimosas with breakfast, beer with lunch, bed at 10 and back at it again for another week, and that was tame compared to most others I knew.
By the time I hit about 26 I was feeling less and less into that kind of party and was way more interested in hosting people for dinners, drinks, and hang out sessions. I liked lunches out and buying new home items. Parties were reserved for concerts and some weekends depending on paychecks.
For me, I feel like the worst of adulting came with parenthood. I really thought I had it planned out and things would be okay, but that's the thing about life, it takes it's own route, doesn't tell you it's changing, and sometimes you can barely scrape together to find a path, let alone decipher the "way you should" go.
In my twenties, concerts were always a yes, no matter how far the drive and if I didn't have the money, just swipe my credit card, the money could happen later, the concert was happening regardless. Between my husband and I, our credit cards were very much well known and accepted anywhere. While I felt the burden of that intensely, it took a lot of work to undo that frivolity, but I wasn't unwilling to do it.
I worked diligently on fixing finances to the point of being unfair and obnoxious. I still feel humiliated having to say "no, we can't afford it," to a lot. The difference from my twenties to now is, I prefer to stay in my real, live, grown up house, whereas I never wanted to be stuck at my apartment when I could be out spending money and living life. My thirties are for being frugal so I can take a vacation that involved leaving Florida.
As if I'm not feeling old enough, this is the last year of the Vans Warped Tour with a huge 25th Anniversary festival in both California and New Jersey. I must say that when I saw that line-up, I wanted to cancel both trips we were planning this year and just take myself to both for one more foray into being a Punk Rock Princess before my retirement from my festival concert days.
Warped tour was my first festival-type show when I was 18 and came with all the stories, swag and was the beginning of my love affair with live music. It was always fun to bounce between stages, get bumper stickers, shirts and leave for home broke, dehydrated and sunburned with bags of memorabilia, ringing ears, and dirty Vans or Converse. Plus there was always a Taco Bell run at the end of it.
Despite my years as an avid Warped Tour addict, some of the big bands I've still never seen. Between both coasts, they are all on there. Now, I know some of you have bucket lists that include seeing different countries and cities, and mine does somewhat, but I have Bucket List Bands. Most of them are now un-affordable, unattainable or unfortunately dead. But when I saw that line up I wanted to take out a loan and just go!
Alas, now that I'm in my thirties I say "no" instead of "let's go." Often this makes me feel lame but lately I've had a better appreciation of what comes with this stage, and for me that's peace and security. Peace and security have been just a dream like those items in stores in New York City where you have to ring the bell and look put together enough to be allowed entrance. The employees could see me, and I was drooling at the peace and security, all shiny on display within the window, but I couldn't get near it. There was no access point for me then.
Being allowed in the shiny security and pretty peace store is even just a recent feat, so I tread lightly. I am definitely incredibly and cautiously optimistic about how far we've come but also appreciative of the journey.
My twenties were fun, filled with celebration and simple problems. My late twenties, my entrance into parenthood, and quick steps into my thirties have been existential. It's been really rough, but also rewarding, leaving me with still a ton of work to do, which I'm not unwilling to participate in.
I do feel like family life makes me say "No," more often than not and the exceptions are few and far between. We bend the rules occasionally but have been far more vigilant about staying the course. To those of you who walk on the wild side and just firmly believe that everything will find it's way and work out, feel free to share that wisdom with me because I suck at it.
I think I've always had no choice but to grow up early. I was violently shoved from my American Girl Doll days of dressing them up and listening to Hanson to having to figure out all walks of life on my own. Navigating social aspects was tough at times, I was super naive and simple, but I definitely had my teenage rebellion under way when the time was right.
I did however, strive for my independence. I wanted to work and go to school so I could have what I wanted and cover what I needed. Defining want and need was what changed quickly between my twenties and thirties, but I think that change was for the better. Now I know the times we need to "splurge" and "live a little," and the ones where we need to be more frugal. Okay maybe lately I just always think we need to be frugal but still! It's a work in progress, I'm a work in progress.
As I'm inching very slowly towards the next stage, and the next age I just feel aware of so much that my twenties were built on that just does not fly now. Some of it is frustrating and unfair. Some of it is affirming and kind of rejuvenating, because I know that I'm in a place where I can say no. Growth game strong!
For the first time, in a very long time I will say this, I'm pretty okay with where I am. I have my bills paid, no exorbitant debt at this time, we have plans for end of year vacations looming, and I can still get a coffee from time to time. I know there is savings and retirement kind of things happening and I have high hopes for some new appliances. There will always be unexpected things, and saying no is way more common now than it was a decade ago, but sometimes saying no is okay, or so I've explored previously.
So, I toast to being close to another year of being okay with saying no to all the stuff I easily got away with in my twenties, and to being even more firm in my thirties, I'm enjoying each new stage, no matter how difficult. Although, if anyone wants to send me to Warped Tour, that I would say yes to!
The amount of adulting and growing up I've had to do the past few years is actually kinda unfair, but I maintain I'm better for it. Your twenties are for partying, credit card debt, adventures and working hard specifically so you can play hard. I remember working 6 days a week between two jobs, drinking every night and Sunday sleeping until noon, mimosas with breakfast, beer with lunch, bed at 10 and back at it again for another week, and that was tame compared to most others I knew.
By the time I hit about 26 I was feeling less and less into that kind of party and was way more interested in hosting people for dinners, drinks, and hang out sessions. I liked lunches out and buying new home items. Parties were reserved for concerts and some weekends depending on paychecks.
For me, I feel like the worst of adulting came with parenthood. I really thought I had it planned out and things would be okay, but that's the thing about life, it takes it's own route, doesn't tell you it's changing, and sometimes you can barely scrape together to find a path, let alone decipher the "way you should" go.
In my twenties, concerts were always a yes, no matter how far the drive and if I didn't have the money, just swipe my credit card, the money could happen later, the concert was happening regardless. Between my husband and I, our credit cards were very much well known and accepted anywhere. While I felt the burden of that intensely, it took a lot of work to undo that frivolity, but I wasn't unwilling to do it.
I worked diligently on fixing finances to the point of being unfair and obnoxious. I still feel humiliated having to say "no, we can't afford it," to a lot. The difference from my twenties to now is, I prefer to stay in my real, live, grown up house, whereas I never wanted to be stuck at my apartment when I could be out spending money and living life. My thirties are for being frugal so I can take a vacation that involved leaving Florida.
As if I'm not feeling old enough, this is the last year of the Vans Warped Tour with a huge 25th Anniversary festival in both California and New Jersey. I must say that when I saw that line-up, I wanted to cancel both trips we were planning this year and just take myself to both for one more foray into being a Punk Rock Princess before my retirement from my festival concert days.
Warped tour was my first festival-type show when I was 18 and came with all the stories, swag and was the beginning of my love affair with live music. It was always fun to bounce between stages, get bumper stickers, shirts and leave for home broke, dehydrated and sunburned with bags of memorabilia, ringing ears, and dirty Vans or Converse. Plus there was always a Taco Bell run at the end of it.
Despite my years as an avid Warped Tour addict, some of the big bands I've still never seen. Between both coasts, they are all on there. Now, I know some of you have bucket lists that include seeing different countries and cities, and mine does somewhat, but I have Bucket List Bands. Most of them are now un-affordable, unattainable or unfortunately dead. But when I saw that line up I wanted to take out a loan and just go!
Alas, now that I'm in my thirties I say "no" instead of "let's go." Often this makes me feel lame but lately I've had a better appreciation of what comes with this stage, and for me that's peace and security. Peace and security have been just a dream like those items in stores in New York City where you have to ring the bell and look put together enough to be allowed entrance. The employees could see me, and I was drooling at the peace and security, all shiny on display within the window, but I couldn't get near it. There was no access point for me then.
Being allowed in the shiny security and pretty peace store is even just a recent feat, so I tread lightly. I am definitely incredibly and cautiously optimistic about how far we've come but also appreciative of the journey.
My twenties were fun, filled with celebration and simple problems. My late twenties, my entrance into parenthood, and quick steps into my thirties have been existential. It's been really rough, but also rewarding, leaving me with still a ton of work to do, which I'm not unwilling to participate in.
I do feel like family life makes me say "No," more often than not and the exceptions are few and far between. We bend the rules occasionally but have been far more vigilant about staying the course. To those of you who walk on the wild side and just firmly believe that everything will find it's way and work out, feel free to share that wisdom with me because I suck at it.
I think I've always had no choice but to grow up early. I was violently shoved from my American Girl Doll days of dressing them up and listening to Hanson to having to figure out all walks of life on my own. Navigating social aspects was tough at times, I was super naive and simple, but I definitely had my teenage rebellion under way when the time was right.
I did however, strive for my independence. I wanted to work and go to school so I could have what I wanted and cover what I needed. Defining want and need was what changed quickly between my twenties and thirties, but I think that change was for the better. Now I know the times we need to "splurge" and "live a little," and the ones where we need to be more frugal. Okay maybe lately I just always think we need to be frugal but still! It's a work in progress, I'm a work in progress.
As I'm inching very slowly towards the next stage, and the next age I just feel aware of so much that my twenties were built on that just does not fly now. Some of it is frustrating and unfair. Some of it is affirming and kind of rejuvenating, because I know that I'm in a place where I can say no. Growth game strong!
For the first time, in a very long time I will say this, I'm pretty okay with where I am. I have my bills paid, no exorbitant debt at this time, we have plans for end of year vacations looming, and I can still get a coffee from time to time. I know there is savings and retirement kind of things happening and I have high hopes for some new appliances. There will always be unexpected things, and saying no is way more common now than it was a decade ago, but sometimes saying no is okay, or so I've explored previously.
So, I toast to being close to another year of being okay with saying no to all the stuff I easily got away with in my twenties, and to being even more firm in my thirties, I'm enjoying each new stage, no matter how difficult. Although, if anyone wants to send me to Warped Tour, that I would say yes to!
Monday, March 11, 2019
It's Not All Bad
One of my favorite quotes from my all time favorite movie, "The Princess Bride," which rings true regularly is, "Life is pain, highness, anyone who says differently is selling something."
I think we can all agree that life is hard. EVERYONE has completely different challenges, trials and things that make it difficult for them. Everyone handles those difficulties differently. There is physical pain, mental pain, people being a pain. Everyone has something different that makes life a little harder.
I've started to wish that I was brave enough to just lay it all out for the world to see, like "Okay, this is what has actually, truly, legitimately been going on, and it's kind of been really shitty." But that unashamed honesty can be unwelcome and it definitely can give you quite the stigma, or so I have experienced previously.
With my last two jobs I felt emotionally cornered into making unfair choices. A lot of this came from really difficult personal life circumstances, but in both cases, rather than fight for something I was unsure of and lay all my cards out on the table, I just decided to fold and take the loss. I wish I could have had a heart to heart with each employer and apologized for my home life affecting my work, but I also think I wasn't meant to stay in those positions long term anyway so I kind of let life just figure that one out and did what I could with what I had.
That is my exact coping mechanism I may have just mastered; when you can control almost nothing and the decisions have been made without you, you have to make the best of what's in front of you. It's all we can do, right?
I think admitting that life is really rough, and that sometimes bad things just happen, is something we don't want to say out loud for fear of coming across as weak or unable to handle things, or maybe that's just me. I've said time and time again, I pride myself on my ability to keep it together and never let them see me break. I may have a good late night cry, or even a lunch time car cry session, but I always pull myself together before I'm back in the public view.
It would be nice if "mental health days" were a real thing and we could call our bosses and say, "I really need to color, take a nap, and watch 4 hours of Friends today, I'll be back in tomorrow." But, for now, we kick up our self care and coping mechanisms and remind ourselves "it's not all bad." It's actually not ALL bad. So much of life is a blessing, but I also don't want to take away from the fact that we all have real, personal, and sometimes unfair turmoil going on.
With that, I wish we could be kinder to each other. About 4 months ago, in what I consider to be an "anxious relapse," I let myself get talked into a tizzy over something really stupid. It felt huge at the time, but it really was dumb. You see, I'm that person that works diligently on being unconditionally understanding. People have real lives and a million things going on and it's not for me to add anything to anyone else's plate, I'm just there to offer for whatever they may need. But I let myself take things too personally as though, the lack of responsiveness was due to "hating me," "ghosting me" or "un-friending me."
In my experience, when people are going through rough times, the best thing you can do is listen to their answer and asking "how can I help?" Then find some way to do it. Maybe it's a ride somewhere, a gift certificate to Publix, money for pizza or leaving their favorite beer in their fridge when you stop by to check in. Sometimes it's a card that says, "you're doing awesome considering things kinda suck right now" or other times it's a simple text of "I know how busy you are, but I'm here if you have time to chat or to schedule time to hang out."
The thing is, and I think even Taylor Swift sang it once, "That you don't know, what you don't know." So I think we should all work harder to be a little kinder and gentler to people. I post a lot on Instagram pictures of quotes, inspirational words and even just phrases that affect me in some way. Sometimes they say "Hey I'm having a bad day," others signify, "Been there before;" some are funny, some are dark, and rarely I'll even sneak an inside joke in there.
Everyone has their shit, I like to say. But at the end of the day, life isn't all bad, and we need to remind each other of that when we are struggling. I have found myself getting caught up in technological whirlwinds of never returned text messages, unresponsiveness or miscommunication and taking a big step back from it all has made me feel more receptive to essentially being a better friend and person.
It's really easy to see all the happy posts and cute pictures and write people off as having "perfect lives," "perfect vacations," and "better circumstances," or "easier lives" than yourself. You never see pictures of the bad times, right? I had to work really hard on not succumbing to those negative twinges and now thinking, "Wow, that looks awesome, good for them!" Because I never got anything from feeling like life was all bad, but I get everything from appreciating more and more that everyone deserves to enjoy a little good.
I've paid close attention to people recently and I am consistently in awe of our capacity to persevere. We are a resilient bunch, especially us wives and mothers, in my humble opinion. It takes a lot for us to really speak enough to be heard and it takes even more to be loud enough for things to resonate but when we do, we make waves. As someone who generally believes women don't think much of her, I've found in motherhood that we are far more similar than we are different, and when we open up and let our guards down a little, we get even stronger as a bunch.
When I've been at my lowest, I've had plenty of people remind me, it's not all bad, and I'll be damned if I don't do the same thing for them. Because the thing that makes it worse, is when we try and push through it alone. The Beatles didn't write all those hits about love and togetherness for us to learn nothing. So if you start your week with this, let us remember to get "By with a little help from my friends," and encourage them when they are feeling immersed in the darkness, that it's not all bad after all.
I think we can all agree that life is hard. EVERYONE has completely different challenges, trials and things that make it difficult for them. Everyone handles those difficulties differently. There is physical pain, mental pain, people being a pain. Everyone has something different that makes life a little harder.
I've started to wish that I was brave enough to just lay it all out for the world to see, like "Okay, this is what has actually, truly, legitimately been going on, and it's kind of been really shitty." But that unashamed honesty can be unwelcome and it definitely can give you quite the stigma, or so I have experienced previously.
With my last two jobs I felt emotionally cornered into making unfair choices. A lot of this came from really difficult personal life circumstances, but in both cases, rather than fight for something I was unsure of and lay all my cards out on the table, I just decided to fold and take the loss. I wish I could have had a heart to heart with each employer and apologized for my home life affecting my work, but I also think I wasn't meant to stay in those positions long term anyway so I kind of let life just figure that one out and did what I could with what I had.
That is my exact coping mechanism I may have just mastered; when you can control almost nothing and the decisions have been made without you, you have to make the best of what's in front of you. It's all we can do, right?
I think admitting that life is really rough, and that sometimes bad things just happen, is something we don't want to say out loud for fear of coming across as weak or unable to handle things, or maybe that's just me. I've said time and time again, I pride myself on my ability to keep it together and never let them see me break. I may have a good late night cry, or even a lunch time car cry session, but I always pull myself together before I'm back in the public view.
It would be nice if "mental health days" were a real thing and we could call our bosses and say, "I really need to color, take a nap, and watch 4 hours of Friends today, I'll be back in tomorrow." But, for now, we kick up our self care and coping mechanisms and remind ourselves "it's not all bad." It's actually not ALL bad. So much of life is a blessing, but I also don't want to take away from the fact that we all have real, personal, and sometimes unfair turmoil going on.
With that, I wish we could be kinder to each other. About 4 months ago, in what I consider to be an "anxious relapse," I let myself get talked into a tizzy over something really stupid. It felt huge at the time, but it really was dumb. You see, I'm that person that works diligently on being unconditionally understanding. People have real lives and a million things going on and it's not for me to add anything to anyone else's plate, I'm just there to offer for whatever they may need. But I let myself take things too personally as though, the lack of responsiveness was due to "hating me," "ghosting me" or "un-friending me."
In my experience, when people are going through rough times, the best thing you can do is listen to their answer and asking "how can I help?" Then find some way to do it. Maybe it's a ride somewhere, a gift certificate to Publix, money for pizza or leaving their favorite beer in their fridge when you stop by to check in. Sometimes it's a card that says, "you're doing awesome considering things kinda suck right now" or other times it's a simple text of "I know how busy you are, but I'm here if you have time to chat or to schedule time to hang out."
The thing is, and I think even Taylor Swift sang it once, "That you don't know, what you don't know." So I think we should all work harder to be a little kinder and gentler to people. I post a lot on Instagram pictures of quotes, inspirational words and even just phrases that affect me in some way. Sometimes they say "Hey I'm having a bad day," others signify, "Been there before;" some are funny, some are dark, and rarely I'll even sneak an inside joke in there.
Everyone has their shit, I like to say. But at the end of the day, life isn't all bad, and we need to remind each other of that when we are struggling. I have found myself getting caught up in technological whirlwinds of never returned text messages, unresponsiveness or miscommunication and taking a big step back from it all has made me feel more receptive to essentially being a better friend and person.
It's really easy to see all the happy posts and cute pictures and write people off as having "perfect lives," "perfect vacations," and "better circumstances," or "easier lives" than yourself. You never see pictures of the bad times, right? I had to work really hard on not succumbing to those negative twinges and now thinking, "Wow, that looks awesome, good for them!" Because I never got anything from feeling like life was all bad, but I get everything from appreciating more and more that everyone deserves to enjoy a little good.
I've paid close attention to people recently and I am consistently in awe of our capacity to persevere. We are a resilient bunch, especially us wives and mothers, in my humble opinion. It takes a lot for us to really speak enough to be heard and it takes even more to be loud enough for things to resonate but when we do, we make waves. As someone who generally believes women don't think much of her, I've found in motherhood that we are far more similar than we are different, and when we open up and let our guards down a little, we get even stronger as a bunch.
When I've been at my lowest, I've had plenty of people remind me, it's not all bad, and I'll be damned if I don't do the same thing for them. Because the thing that makes it worse, is when we try and push through it alone. The Beatles didn't write all those hits about love and togetherness for us to learn nothing. So if you start your week with this, let us remember to get "By with a little help from my friends," and encourage them when they are feeling immersed in the darkness, that it's not all bad after all.
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Mindful Mothering
I envision that the tales of my childhood will someday be book-worthy. If I could ever write the full scope, it could be a best seller. But for now, with only the blog and short bursts of writing time, we'll condense it by topic.
Last year when planning my daughter's 5th birthday, my mother reminded me that it was about that time in my childhood, when she checked out mentally and retired from motherhood. I like to refer to it as "when the shit got real." For my daughter and I, as soon as VPK and Kindergarten hit, it's a whole new realm of mothering and for some, or maybe just me, it was uncomfortable at first, even unfriendly.
My mom mentally left the idea of being a mom when I was 5 and physically left when I was about 12. The timeline can get fuzzy unless you have my mom and I start reminiscing and then it's a fight for who remembers what better, and the "right way."
Through the worst few years of my personal life, I successfully "checked out" mentally for just under 6 months. And I was still her mom, I just was a super selfish one. When I couldn't keep up with life and wasn't even getting what I thought the results should be out of my "selfish phase," I had a heart to heart with myself and quit being so ridiculous and started to deal and then heal. Okay the real story also involves being "scared straight" to a degree, but again, I have a book to write people. I have to keep some mystery.
For whatever reason, at a young age I realized rather quickly that my mom was not like other moms. In fact I used to call her Cindy and not mom because "Everyone else calls her Cindy, why wouldn't I?," I said. I used to say about the moms that cooked, sewed and did hair and nails they were "Like, real moms."
My mom never cooked. My mom bought clothes, she didn't sew them, but my dad did. My mom never let me wear make-up. She took me to get fancy hair cuts and told me she'd kill me if I ever colored or permed my hair. I never had my nails done. She hated nail polish and my dad hated that it stained everything.
I don't remember my mom taking me to do anything with her, just driving me to and from appointments and play dates, and buying me stuff. This isn't to say she never spent time with me, but nothing sticks out as what my daughter would call "quality time"
Recently I discovered that living with my mom had some weird affects on me. She spent a year with us after the car accident and I reverted to the same behavior I used the year of high school I lived with her. It was rough on us both, but, we made it through relatively unscathed.
If you ask her now, she says I took advantage of her living with us. She's not wrong, there was a degree of that, but she also will never know the full story of everything else going on with my personal and family life, even as we were under the same roof. And in my hour of need, when I put myself out there saying, "Mom, I might really need your help," she said no.
Generally, I admit I feel like a "bad mom," whether it's working too much, or not enough, yelling too much, not engaging enough or just not being involved more. There are a lot of expectations for moms, way more than when my mom was raising me I feel. And the fact that I'm only 6 years in and have failed at some things a time or two, ugh, I hate that so much and I've worked on getting my ass in gear.
Some of the people closest to me remind me that I'm a good mom, which usually makes me ugly cry, but "Momming ain't easy." Some days are much better than others. Last night my daughter and I had some serious quality time, and the past two weeks for us have been so much better in general, that I feel like I'm turning a corner and working on being that "good mom" that others seem to see in there.
I've decided that this newfound mothering mentality comes from my mindfulness stuff. Or should I say that mindfulness just spans every aspect of my mentality now, including motherhood. I had my "ah-ha moment" last night.
I finally got my kid to understand the power of Netflix and Chill, in the complete and literate sense that sometimes it's okay to binge-watch My Little Pony or hours of Disney movies after a long week of school, aftercare, girl scouts, horseback riding lessons and play dates. You're allowed to be a kid. So yesterday we had horseback riding and then she had a play date and then I said, okay...we're going to go pick out a movie for you to watch on Red Box, then we'll do nails and face masks in between and have popcorn and treats but we just get to chill!
She was super on board and loved every minute:
It was a simple thing for a Saturday when my husband was working and we were just having a girls night, but it felt so awesome. And my mom never did that kind of stuff with me.
I thought I had always been mindful about being a mom, but I realized with as bad as things have been, I inadvertently end up snapping at her, being cranky and unfair or just only being half there. Last night I was all in and I noticed the difference in how it radiated through. She's listened better today. She's allowed me to have my space but asked for help when she needed it and asked me to be around for when she wanted me around.
Being a mother is exhausting, rewarding, defeating, and amazing. You can get everything and nothing out of it all at the same time. It's thankless but oddly gratifying. It can tear you apart and heal your whole world all within the span of 10 minutes. It's the best rollercoaster you'll ever board.
I think that we all do our best when we're living under our version of better circumstances, but we're only human. Sometimes we break down and just can't handle this crazy thing called life. That's okay. I've been broken and beaten and put myself back together, or at least tried. My fundamental truth in it all is I have this little person to raise, no matter what. It doesn't matter what happens at work, with my husband, with my bills and finances, or with friends, I am her mother and she's my daughter. We are ride or die, Luna and I. I didn't mean for that rhyme or sound ridiculous but it is the truth.
As I've taken better care of myself these past few weeks, I've cared for her infinitely better. We've been kinder and more patient. We've been sweeter and less sassy with each other. We've made better agreements and had more meaningful conversations and moments as mother and daughter.
This mindfulness stuff is so hard, but I've found it's also totally worth it. As bad as it may sound, I won't be my mom. I had a taste of the "check out" plan and I don't want to order that from the menu ever again. I like being the one here when the fever breaks and nightmares happen. I like being the one she tells her secrets to and then gets mad at for annoying her. I like being the person she snuggles up on. Before long she won't want me around as much anyway. When I was 15, I was mother free, and when we tried to live together it was worse than a bad Lifetime movie.
My mom missed all the mom moments that I won't. The first bra, the first kiss, the first homecoming, prom, the shopping for the dresses and shoes, the boyfriends, the dates and everything. I had aunts and moms of friends and my dad. I was really good at making work what I had available but missed having any kind of mom when I needed it most. I won't give Luna the chance to miss me, even if it means smothering her, which she will hate and I will gladly do so.
I'm a work in progress, but a mindful mother I will continue to grow into. I may not be able to volunteer for the school events and be cookie chair, but I'll be there for the first period, the sex talk, the girl fights, the boy fights, the dating, the outfits, the hair and especially the face masks, nail painting and sewing. I don't cook either but I can make a mean sandwich and salad, and I'm great with BOGO shopping. She'll do okay.
And with all this mindful mothering, I can be one more cliche of, "Be the person you needed when you were a kid," for her; whether she likes it or not.
Last year when planning my daughter's 5th birthday, my mother reminded me that it was about that time in my childhood, when she checked out mentally and retired from motherhood. I like to refer to it as "when the shit got real." For my daughter and I, as soon as VPK and Kindergarten hit, it's a whole new realm of mothering and for some, or maybe just me, it was uncomfortable at first, even unfriendly.
My mom mentally left the idea of being a mom when I was 5 and physically left when I was about 12. The timeline can get fuzzy unless you have my mom and I start reminiscing and then it's a fight for who remembers what better, and the "right way."
Through the worst few years of my personal life, I successfully "checked out" mentally for just under 6 months. And I was still her mom, I just was a super selfish one. When I couldn't keep up with life and wasn't even getting what I thought the results should be out of my "selfish phase," I had a heart to heart with myself and quit being so ridiculous and started to deal and then heal. Okay the real story also involves being "scared straight" to a degree, but again, I have a book to write people. I have to keep some mystery.
For whatever reason, at a young age I realized rather quickly that my mom was not like other moms. In fact I used to call her Cindy and not mom because "Everyone else calls her Cindy, why wouldn't I?," I said. I used to say about the moms that cooked, sewed and did hair and nails they were "Like, real moms."
My mom never cooked. My mom bought clothes, she didn't sew them, but my dad did. My mom never let me wear make-up. She took me to get fancy hair cuts and told me she'd kill me if I ever colored or permed my hair. I never had my nails done. She hated nail polish and my dad hated that it stained everything.
I don't remember my mom taking me to do anything with her, just driving me to and from appointments and play dates, and buying me stuff. This isn't to say she never spent time with me, but nothing sticks out as what my daughter would call "quality time"
Recently I discovered that living with my mom had some weird affects on me. She spent a year with us after the car accident and I reverted to the same behavior I used the year of high school I lived with her. It was rough on us both, but, we made it through relatively unscathed.
If you ask her now, she says I took advantage of her living with us. She's not wrong, there was a degree of that, but she also will never know the full story of everything else going on with my personal and family life, even as we were under the same roof. And in my hour of need, when I put myself out there saying, "Mom, I might really need your help," she said no.
Generally, I admit I feel like a "bad mom," whether it's working too much, or not enough, yelling too much, not engaging enough or just not being involved more. There are a lot of expectations for moms, way more than when my mom was raising me I feel. And the fact that I'm only 6 years in and have failed at some things a time or two, ugh, I hate that so much and I've worked on getting my ass in gear.
Some of the people closest to me remind me that I'm a good mom, which usually makes me ugly cry, but "Momming ain't easy." Some days are much better than others. Last night my daughter and I had some serious quality time, and the past two weeks for us have been so much better in general, that I feel like I'm turning a corner and working on being that "good mom" that others seem to see in there.
I've decided that this newfound mothering mentality comes from my mindfulness stuff. Or should I say that mindfulness just spans every aspect of my mentality now, including motherhood. I had my "ah-ha moment" last night.
I finally got my kid to understand the power of Netflix and Chill, in the complete and literate sense that sometimes it's okay to binge-watch My Little Pony or hours of Disney movies after a long week of school, aftercare, girl scouts, horseback riding lessons and play dates. You're allowed to be a kid. So yesterday we had horseback riding and then she had a play date and then I said, okay...we're going to go pick out a movie for you to watch on Red Box, then we'll do nails and face masks in between and have popcorn and treats but we just get to chill!
She was super on board and loved every minute:
It was a simple thing for a Saturday when my husband was working and we were just having a girls night, but it felt so awesome. And my mom never did that kind of stuff with me.
I thought I had always been mindful about being a mom, but I realized with as bad as things have been, I inadvertently end up snapping at her, being cranky and unfair or just only being half there. Last night I was all in and I noticed the difference in how it radiated through. She's listened better today. She's allowed me to have my space but asked for help when she needed it and asked me to be around for when she wanted me around.
Being a mother is exhausting, rewarding, defeating, and amazing. You can get everything and nothing out of it all at the same time. It's thankless but oddly gratifying. It can tear you apart and heal your whole world all within the span of 10 minutes. It's the best rollercoaster you'll ever board.
I think that we all do our best when we're living under our version of better circumstances, but we're only human. Sometimes we break down and just can't handle this crazy thing called life. That's okay. I've been broken and beaten and put myself back together, or at least tried. My fundamental truth in it all is I have this little person to raise, no matter what. It doesn't matter what happens at work, with my husband, with my bills and finances, or with friends, I am her mother and she's my daughter. We are ride or die, Luna and I. I didn't mean for that rhyme or sound ridiculous but it is the truth.
As I've taken better care of myself these past few weeks, I've cared for her infinitely better. We've been kinder and more patient. We've been sweeter and less sassy with each other. We've made better agreements and had more meaningful conversations and moments as mother and daughter.
This mindfulness stuff is so hard, but I've found it's also totally worth it. As bad as it may sound, I won't be my mom. I had a taste of the "check out" plan and I don't want to order that from the menu ever again. I like being the one here when the fever breaks and nightmares happen. I like being the one she tells her secrets to and then gets mad at for annoying her. I like being the person she snuggles up on. Before long she won't want me around as much anyway. When I was 15, I was mother free, and when we tried to live together it was worse than a bad Lifetime movie.
My mom missed all the mom moments that I won't. The first bra, the first kiss, the first homecoming, prom, the shopping for the dresses and shoes, the boyfriends, the dates and everything. I had aunts and moms of friends and my dad. I was really good at making work what I had available but missed having any kind of mom when I needed it most. I won't give Luna the chance to miss me, even if it means smothering her, which she will hate and I will gladly do so.
I'm a work in progress, but a mindful mother I will continue to grow into. I may not be able to volunteer for the school events and be cookie chair, but I'll be there for the first period, the sex talk, the girl fights, the boy fights, the dating, the outfits, the hair and especially the face masks, nail painting and sewing. I don't cook either but I can make a mean sandwich and salad, and I'm great with BOGO shopping. She'll do okay.
And with all this mindful mothering, I can be one more cliche of, "Be the person you needed when you were a kid," for her; whether she likes it or not.
Saturday, March 9, 2019
It Ended Up Being A Baseboard Day
Every weekend I clean. A lot. For many hours. Sometimes just Saturday. Sometimes I span it over two days, depending on my energy level. But every weekend I clean, like it or not.
After horseback riding lessons we got home and I had a small lunch type situation and then started my mental checklist. A friend who recently moved away left us an obscene amount and strange array of leftover cleaning supplies. I had slowly been using them for random things around the house, as I usually do vinegar based things and have some weird aversion to the smell some cleaning products, bleach especially.
I found an all purpose cleaner and looked down and realized...it had been a good month since I did the baseboards. I saw one particular spot that was completely gross. And then it began...and it ended up being a baseboard day.
I can only speak for myself, but have to ask, does anyone else loathe doing baseboards? I have this weird wave of emotions and hilarious thoughts as soon as I start the task. It goes from, "I immediately regret this decision," to thoughts like, "oh my gosh, how gross are we living?"
I start and I'm like, "Hey this isn't that bad." But as I progress I'm like, "Ugh why did I even start this? Well I already started it so I have to finish now. How did dirt get there?" Before you know it, I'm internally having a full on conversation with myself, and therefore have entered crazy town.
I was cleaning the baseboards thinking of writing this blog and how, you have to get in all these weird uncomfortable positions to clean them, and reach all these weird angles. All of the sudden, then I wonder, why do we even have baseboards and why did I arrange the furniture to make this so difficult? Again, cleaning the baseboards becomes some weird internal philosophical conversation. It's so strange how my mind wanders when I'm doing cleaning tasks.
Cleaning the baseboards is gratifying and annoying all at the same time, and I totally wish it were less exhausting, but when I'm done I feel that amazing sense of accomplishment. So I'm bending and squatting and conforming and scrubbing, all to clean the dog hair and every day life of the spot that buffers the wall and the floor. All the while my daughter is scurrying around clearing her messes and getting ready for a play date.
I finally start to see the light at the end of the tunnel and then hit that mental wall about the rest of the things I need to clean. There's a huge part of me that gets a sense of pride knowing that I'm the one who does the bulk of the cleaning in my own home. My husband has recently been a huge, huge help and even the kiddo pitches in from time to time but mostly it's all me that keeps up with the chores and maintenance making the house a home.
Of course I dream about having a house cleaner and not having to spend my weekends cleaning, and if I ever had room in the budget I would spend it on freeing up my time in that way, but I also like knowing when I cleaned what and with what supplies. I think it's more of that control in the chaos thing that I live by. I love knowing there are certain things I have full control over, no matter what else is going on in my life. And cleaning arranging is one of those easy things to manage.
I always sleep better when I have a clean house. I can start my week successfully knowing that kicked butt at home ownership and did all my necessary chores. I also feel better mental health-wise knowing that I keep my house tidy and the filth minimal.
So today ended up being a baseboard day. And in some ways that was not at all what I had in mind. In other ways I'm glad I decided to get that done so it was one less thing for me to do tomorrow or next week. There will always be a to-do list. The husband will always have a "honey-do" list. There are times to kick back and ignore the chores and then there are baseboard days. Whatever your Saturday brings, I hope you get that sense of accomplishment too!
After horseback riding lessons we got home and I had a small lunch type situation and then started my mental checklist. A friend who recently moved away left us an obscene amount and strange array of leftover cleaning supplies. I had slowly been using them for random things around the house, as I usually do vinegar based things and have some weird aversion to the smell some cleaning products, bleach especially.
I found an all purpose cleaner and looked down and realized...it had been a good month since I did the baseboards. I saw one particular spot that was completely gross. And then it began...and it ended up being a baseboard day.
I can only speak for myself, but have to ask, does anyone else loathe doing baseboards? I have this weird wave of emotions and hilarious thoughts as soon as I start the task. It goes from, "I immediately regret this decision," to thoughts like, "oh my gosh, how gross are we living?"
I start and I'm like, "Hey this isn't that bad." But as I progress I'm like, "Ugh why did I even start this? Well I already started it so I have to finish now. How did dirt get there?" Before you know it, I'm internally having a full on conversation with myself, and therefore have entered crazy town.
I was cleaning the baseboards thinking of writing this blog and how, you have to get in all these weird uncomfortable positions to clean them, and reach all these weird angles. All of the sudden, then I wonder, why do we even have baseboards and why did I arrange the furniture to make this so difficult? Again, cleaning the baseboards becomes some weird internal philosophical conversation. It's so strange how my mind wanders when I'm doing cleaning tasks.
Cleaning the baseboards is gratifying and annoying all at the same time, and I totally wish it were less exhausting, but when I'm done I feel that amazing sense of accomplishment. So I'm bending and squatting and conforming and scrubbing, all to clean the dog hair and every day life of the spot that buffers the wall and the floor. All the while my daughter is scurrying around clearing her messes and getting ready for a play date.
I finally start to see the light at the end of the tunnel and then hit that mental wall about the rest of the things I need to clean. There's a huge part of me that gets a sense of pride knowing that I'm the one who does the bulk of the cleaning in my own home. My husband has recently been a huge, huge help and even the kiddo pitches in from time to time but mostly it's all me that keeps up with the chores and maintenance making the house a home.
Of course I dream about having a house cleaner and not having to spend my weekends cleaning, and if I ever had room in the budget I would spend it on freeing up my time in that way, but I also like knowing when I cleaned what and with what supplies. I think it's more of that control in the chaos thing that I live by. I love knowing there are certain things I have full control over, no matter what else is going on in my life. And cleaning arranging is one of those easy things to manage.
I always sleep better when I have a clean house. I can start my week successfully knowing that kicked butt at home ownership and did all my necessary chores. I also feel better mental health-wise knowing that I keep my house tidy and the filth minimal.
So today ended up being a baseboard day. And in some ways that was not at all what I had in mind. In other ways I'm glad I decided to get that done so it was one less thing for me to do tomorrow or next week. There will always be a to-do list. The husband will always have a "honey-do" list. There are times to kick back and ignore the chores and then there are baseboard days. Whatever your Saturday brings, I hope you get that sense of accomplishment too!
Friday, March 8, 2019
Really Big Questions Before Coffee
I spent the first four years of my daughter's life doing everything for her in the morning. I would try to get up earlier than her to sneak some quiet. Until you have a child, you do not appreciate silence. And silence, in my humble opinion, is at it's best while sipping coffee.
I leave really early for work so morning time with my daughter is sporadic. Sometimes she is snoozing with dad and the pug and I'm the last wake up call before I pop out of the house. Sometimes she comes into the bathroom to supervise the get ready process and talk at me. My daughter doesn't stop talking from the time she wakes up, until the time she goes to bed. Laugh all you want, this isn't an exaggeration.
This morning was a pop-into the bathroom morning and she was ready to talk about everything. Unfortunately, I inadvertently left the best question right in front of her.
Not to be oversharing but after months of deliberation I just switched from Tampax to the Lunette Cup, and all I can say is it's a huge game changer, and I recommend it for anyone. I come from an environment of period-shamers and the cup has had some pretty awesome results in terms of my comfort and confidence in that arena.
I had just cleaned it this morning and left it out to dry when my daughter walked in. "Mommy, what is that?" She pointed directly at the cup. Oh man, do I have to give an anatomy lesson at 6:45? I haven't even started to boil the water for my COFFEE!
I gave her a small explanation for it's purpose and about my period but told her we could certainly talk more about it as she got older. Then came another big question: "Mommy, like how did I grow up and get so big like, how does that all happen?" Oh my gosh do I have to explain babies now? I haven't had toast or anything!
Again, a mild and dialed down version was given to her about everything and then it was: "Can I have make-up? What's that called? Why do you have two different brushes? Which one goes on your eyes? Will you wear pink today? Can you make me breakfast before you go? Can I wear my shirt from Sophia today? Can you help me find it? Did you know I didn't even hear you go to Boot Camp? I was still asleep! Was Daddy snoring a lot?"
I don't even think I can type as fast as she hurls the questions in my direction. There are so many wonderful things that come out of these conversations, but they are also exhausting. Because of life circumstances my daughter is just that kid that needs to know the plan. And mom is the planner. And when things don't go accordingly to plan, it can get upsetting so I've paid close attention to helping her navigate her feelings around all those things.
She knows the 1st Friday in August we're planning on a vacation to see PA and NY family. She knows every Saturday at the same time we have horseback riding lessons and every so often, she can switch that Saturday lesson for a different event. She needs to know how her day will look. Who is she playing with? Who is putting her to bed? Is it a normal bed time or flexible?
She is all questions and Mom is all answers. Some of the huge questions, I'm like "Uh, we'll find a video or book to better explain that." Once she asked me how did "dinosaurs get extinct?" That's a complicated question and even Land Before Time didn't really tell us everything and Jurassic Park would just scare her so, yeah. That's a long conversation, not a quick and simple answer.
We talk a lot about boobs and bodies and make-up. We talk about clothes, and ponies and friend problems. I try to steer her in the right direction with her questions but also not let her be too gossipy or dramatic, just the right amount of those. There's also a part of me that wants to enjoy that she's even asking me anything and wants to hear what I have to say.
I'm not that mom that's afraid to talk about vaginas and anatomy and how things work. I make sure she knows the right words for body parts and bodily functions and such. My child's vocabulary has always been vast and impressive, so I tell her what everything means. To my embarrassment, yes, mine is the child at the store that will announce, "Mom my vagina is really itchy!" She also likes to tell people she's "as tall as mom's boobs!"
But, again, I'd rather her have the answers to the questions, even if the answers aren't so awesome. Recently she came home talking to me about some boy telling her about Chucky, yes the doll that kills people. He told her about Chucky coming to get her and kill her dog and knives and such. I shut that down quick. I told her, Chucky is fake. He's pretend. He's a fake character with special effects made to scare people in movies and he won't hurt her. I wish I could yell at that kid. Six year old children have no need to know about CHUCKY!
The big questions before my coffee always come from curiosity, which I love and encourage just how much she wants to know about everything. It's hard to not squash that with an "I don't know, I don't care, or just be quiet," when life gets tough and I've tuned into the fact that I may have been doing that, even unconsciously. I've had many discussions with the husband about how, as a little girl, it's so important that she feels like she can be heard and say what she wants to say, even if it seems like nonsense to us.
Weekday mornings I'm always in "a hurry," and I remind her often to please not be "in my way," but this morning I made some time for her really big questions. Sometimes they need to be "continued" at a different time when mommy can function better. But most often, even as they seem annoying when I'm not at my best mom moments, I'd rather have her ask me everything than not talk to me at all.
She's still my baby and is learning and absorbing EVERYTHING. There is plenty of time for her to keep things from me and give me the silent treatment when I piss her off. For now I really want to talk about the make-up brushes, my period, My Little Pony and extinct dinosaurs, even if it's before coffee.
I leave really early for work so morning time with my daughter is sporadic. Sometimes she is snoozing with dad and the pug and I'm the last wake up call before I pop out of the house. Sometimes she comes into the bathroom to supervise the get ready process and talk at me. My daughter doesn't stop talking from the time she wakes up, until the time she goes to bed. Laugh all you want, this isn't an exaggeration.
This morning was a pop-into the bathroom morning and she was ready to talk about everything. Unfortunately, I inadvertently left the best question right in front of her.
Not to be oversharing but after months of deliberation I just switched from Tampax to the Lunette Cup, and all I can say is it's a huge game changer, and I recommend it for anyone. I come from an environment of period-shamers and the cup has had some pretty awesome results in terms of my comfort and confidence in that arena.
I had just cleaned it this morning and left it out to dry when my daughter walked in. "Mommy, what is that?" She pointed directly at the cup. Oh man, do I have to give an anatomy lesson at 6:45? I haven't even started to boil the water for my COFFEE!
I gave her a small explanation for it's purpose and about my period but told her we could certainly talk more about it as she got older. Then came another big question: "Mommy, like how did I grow up and get so big like, how does that all happen?" Oh my gosh do I have to explain babies now? I haven't had toast or anything!
Again, a mild and dialed down version was given to her about everything and then it was: "Can I have make-up? What's that called? Why do you have two different brushes? Which one goes on your eyes? Will you wear pink today? Can you make me breakfast before you go? Can I wear my shirt from Sophia today? Can you help me find it? Did you know I didn't even hear you go to Boot Camp? I was still asleep! Was Daddy snoring a lot?"
I don't even think I can type as fast as she hurls the questions in my direction. There are so many wonderful things that come out of these conversations, but they are also exhausting. Because of life circumstances my daughter is just that kid that needs to know the plan. And mom is the planner. And when things don't go accordingly to plan, it can get upsetting so I've paid close attention to helping her navigate her feelings around all those things.
She knows the 1st Friday in August we're planning on a vacation to see PA and NY family. She knows every Saturday at the same time we have horseback riding lessons and every so often, she can switch that Saturday lesson for a different event. She needs to know how her day will look. Who is she playing with? Who is putting her to bed? Is it a normal bed time or flexible?
She is all questions and Mom is all answers. Some of the huge questions, I'm like "Uh, we'll find a video or book to better explain that." Once she asked me how did "dinosaurs get extinct?" That's a complicated question and even Land Before Time didn't really tell us everything and Jurassic Park would just scare her so, yeah. That's a long conversation, not a quick and simple answer.
We talk a lot about boobs and bodies and make-up. We talk about clothes, and ponies and friend problems. I try to steer her in the right direction with her questions but also not let her be too gossipy or dramatic, just the right amount of those. There's also a part of me that wants to enjoy that she's even asking me anything and wants to hear what I have to say.
I'm not that mom that's afraid to talk about vaginas and anatomy and how things work. I make sure she knows the right words for body parts and bodily functions and such. My child's vocabulary has always been vast and impressive, so I tell her what everything means. To my embarrassment, yes, mine is the child at the store that will announce, "Mom my vagina is really itchy!" She also likes to tell people she's "as tall as mom's boobs!"
But, again, I'd rather her have the answers to the questions, even if the answers aren't so awesome. Recently she came home talking to me about some boy telling her about Chucky, yes the doll that kills people. He told her about Chucky coming to get her and kill her dog and knives and such. I shut that down quick. I told her, Chucky is fake. He's pretend. He's a fake character with special effects made to scare people in movies and he won't hurt her. I wish I could yell at that kid. Six year old children have no need to know about CHUCKY!
The big questions before my coffee always come from curiosity, which I love and encourage just how much she wants to know about everything. It's hard to not squash that with an "I don't know, I don't care, or just be quiet," when life gets tough and I've tuned into the fact that I may have been doing that, even unconsciously. I've had many discussions with the husband about how, as a little girl, it's so important that she feels like she can be heard and say what she wants to say, even if it seems like nonsense to us.
Weekday mornings I'm always in "a hurry," and I remind her often to please not be "in my way," but this morning I made some time for her really big questions. Sometimes they need to be "continued" at a different time when mommy can function better. But most often, even as they seem annoying when I'm not at my best mom moments, I'd rather have her ask me everything than not talk to me at all.
She's still my baby and is learning and absorbing EVERYTHING. There is plenty of time for her to keep things from me and give me the silent treatment when I piss her off. For now I really want to talk about the make-up brushes, my period, My Little Pony and extinct dinosaurs, even if it's before coffee.
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