My Own Personal Speed Trap or Slowing Down for My Year of Healing

Speed. I am speed. Oh Cars, what a great catch phrase. I think this has been my theme for years now, ever since I had kids. I seem to only have sped up my life as the boys have gotten older. I have major FOMO. There are so many books to read, there are so many fun kids’ activities to register for, there are too many things to do. And on. And on. And on. I even listen to my podcasts on 1.5 speed because regular speed is too slow.

Frankly it’s hard to enjoy things when you are trying to cram everything into just 24 hours. The pressure I put on myself to constantly go-go-go is crushing. My head is spinning and my to-do list is growing by the minute. There is always something I could be doing. What’s ironic is that while I am always rushing about, I am almost always late these days. I am always trying to squeeze in that last load of laundry, wash the last dish, read the last chapter, go for 5 more minutes on the elliptical, dash to the one last errand. My attempt at being fast only makes me look slow because I try to do one more thing before it’s time to go.

To drive home the point (no pun intended), I got the mail one day this summer and lo and behold there were a couple of envelopes for me - not one but two speeding tickets, both issued in one week, a day apart, by the goddamn traffic cameras. After a long fuck-filled rant about the traffic cameras, the idiocy of having a 25-mph section in the middle of town where it should be 35 mph, and a strong case for “if an actual cop had pulled me over the first time, I wouldn’t have been speeding for the second ticket,” I had to face the facts. I had to slow down.

Oh my gosh, I really hate slowing down. Slowing down means I won’t get everything done. It means that people will be doing things I could be doing but I’m not. It means other people who are better people than I am can keep up the pace while I cannot. And most importantly it means I may have to listen to the garbage that is inside my head instead of trying to out run it.

After 41 years, you would think I would know my tells. You would think I would know that if I keep adding things to my to-do list and making each weekend bigger and better, and baking from scratch at 5 a.m. and not sleeping and over committing, and hating myself for not keeping up, that it is a sign that I’m trying to dodge something real that is happening inside my heart.

Oh that heart. I don’t ever talk about it because to talk about my heart means that my head has lost the battle. I am so good at putting on that stone-cold warrior face, icing over my heart and preparing for the war that life can be, smiling when I feel like sighing. And I’m going to be honest with you. My heart broke this year. Broke. My head couldn’t save it. It tried and denied for so long, but in the end, the heart won. Which means my head lost. And I am admitting to you that I am hurt. I am injured. I am down.

I have always struggled to give emotion space in my life. I don’t like to feel. But this time? There wasn’t a choice. Talk about humbling. My heart said, nope, you can’t escape this time. This time none of my old ways of avoiding emotion worked. This time I had to go through the fire instead of above, around and under. There was just no other way except to experience it. And that hurts. And hurting sucks.

If I slow down, what is going to happen? I am going to experience the pain of heartbreak. The fear of the unknown. The anger of the unjust. It is downright scary my friends. And yet, if I slow down and stop and look around, all of these feelings are a sign that I am alive. I have survived another day. I may not have always felt like a warrior, but I am still breathing and my heart is somehow still beating. And some days, that is an accomplishment to be proud of.  

I’m trying really hard to stop adding things to my to-do list because I know that I am simply trying to sprint from something that can’t be outrun. All during winter break, I did not cut up the weekly fruit tray (sounds crazy but I feel the need to always have fresh cut fruit at the ready because that’s what “good moms do.”) I read books – predictable ones that didn’t require a lot of mental work. I just sat around and talked to my kids. And when my brain was tired and my heart needed a break, we watched Netflix and you know what? It was fine. The walls did not come crashing down. We ate apples (what no strawberries and kiwi?) and I got through the second season of the Ozarks.

This year my theme is Healing. I’ve got a lot of healing to do and part of that healing means I have to stop trying to outrun the tough stuff with an endless to-do list and instead just experience it. Healing for me means resting and honoring what a battle I’ve been through. Healing means sleeping when I am tired and moving my body simply to feel good, not because I ate three cookies that might have been still frozen because I couldn’t wait. Healing is rediscovering who I am when others aren’t imposing their opinions on me. Healing means dreaming again and smiling again and enjoying those small moments with my kids when we are all laughing so hard we can’t breath and someone has to get the Squirrel’s inhaler because he’s laughed himself into an asthma attack. And those moments can’t come when I am working through a to-do list or volunteering to chair some event because “we need everyone to overcommit.” (Ok, so that's not what the say in the email but you know it's implied.)

So the homemade baked goods will be baked when I feel like it. And I’ll sit down and read too during the Squirrel’s daily 20 minutes of reading. Dinner and laundry can wait 20 minutes. And the Moose and I will just hang out doing nothing in particular long enough that he will actually share something about his teenaged day. And slowly slowly I’ll find myself again. Because good things come slowly. And my future is going to be full of good things.

“Listen – are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?” – Mary Oliver

Finding My Truth or Dammit Vicki

About 18 years ago I attended a two-day yoga teaching workshop. During one of the breaks on the second day, there was a time to ask questions and I asked about Fish pose. Fish pose requires you to put the back of your head on the ground, opening your throat to the sky. Whenever I come out of a pose that puts my head back, I get incredibly dizzy for several minutes afterward. I asked what would cause this and what recommendations there were for the pose. A woman piped up, “You see, Fish pose opens the Throat Chakra. The Throat Chakra is where our truth comes from so maybe that’s the problem.”

I gave her my best “Wow, no thank you for your help” face and inside thought, “What the fuck Vicki? Did you just call me out as a dishonest person in front of this room of yogis? You don’t even fucking know me.” I was looking for a scientific reason because I lived in the world of black and white and science and physiology were my friends, not some woo-woo garbage about chakras. I always told the truth – sometimes to a fault. But deep down, over the years this comment has lived with me. Am I an honest person? Is this why throat opening poses make me sick? It doesn’t make any sense. I am totally an honest person. So instead of tipping my head back, I would flex my neck to keep my head neutral which was a better alternative to losing my balance and wanting to puke while I was teaching. Clearly the issue had something to do with blood pressure or equilibrium. The mind-body connection theory is a great idea, but it certainly wasn’t this connected.

Flash forward 16 years and I had this life changing moment. This moment rocked my world and made me question everything I knew. I lost my smile. I lost my reality. Vicki’s comment kept coming up in my mind. What was the truth anyway? What did I know to be real? I realized I didn’t know the answer anymore. I started to really think about my life and consider what I knew to be true about myself. That much I could answer, or so I thought. I was an honest person who tried her best to be good to others. I had integrity and a deep sense of fairness. 

When your world changes, you start to notice everything around you through a different lens. And I started to notice when I felt a deep true emotion, I could feel it in my throat. Noticing my body’s reactions to my emotions started showing me the difference between a real true emotion and indignation. I feel indignation and pettiness in my mind. If it was real fear or sadness, my heart would clench up all the way through my throat.  Usually I would swallow it down because I didn’t have time for a big real feel. I had a job. I had kids to raise. I was swallowing my truth. Turns out Vicki might have been on to something. There is a mind-body connection after all. I started listening to my body more to help me steer through the chaos in my mind. I didn’t have a lot of time to spend on emotions so if I was going to deal with something, it had better be real.

It’s been a year since this catalyst moment and I’m still processing. Like most pivotal moments, it ended up having multiple layers, and like an onion, they all made you cry. This year has been exhausting. I met with my therapist and told her that I was tired of not feeling like myself. “Jen doesn’t feel sad or mad. Jen is a happy person. I’m really ready for this “season” to be finished. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Something must be wrong with me.” And she looked at me and said, “I’d like to talk about that. Jen isn’t just a happy person or a sad person or a mad person. She should feel all of those things. That makes her a human. Being Happy Jen has not served you well in the past. You were never Happy Jen – Real Jen feels all kinds of feelings. I would say that you need to feel sad and mad at times. And that’s exactly where you should be right now. You have just started to give voice to your feelings.”

I thought about that. In an effort to make those around me happy and to earn love and acceptance, I practiced a lot of self-destructive behavior. It is my 25-year anniversary with my eating disorder. I learned it was easier to feel physical pain than emotional pain and what better way to find quick pain than being hungry. I only felt lovable if I was perfect and thin is perfect. As I got older I learned that when life was hard and stressful and sad I could swallow those feelings by over-doing. I would clean everything, bake everything, take care of everything because if I was accomplishing something, I could feel good about that, even if nothing else felt good. If I could just be perfect, then everything would be fine. I would be worthy of love. And if I could keep constantly busy, I could outrun those emotions instead of giving a voice to my feelings. All these behaviors did was make me exhausted and a wisp of myself. I was so good at swallowing my true emotions so that I could seem happy and perfect to everyone. I wasn’t really as honest as I thought I was. Truthfully, I hadn’t been honest with myself in years, instead hiding any signs of trouble with these unhealthy behaviors. 

This past year I’ve been finding my voice. I’ve been speaking up for myself because I have nothing to lose but my integrity by staying silent. I can be sad and I can be mad. And if people don’t like it, then they don’t like the Real Jen – and I’d rather surround myself with people who like the Real Me than the one I’ve been projecting for acceptance. I’ve been in the arena this year and I’ve been knocked down, bruised and blooded. I’m proud of these new scars. I found that I would rather speak truth than put up a façade. Authentic feels real and that’s all I want now. And according to my therapist, maybe I’ve never been Happy Jen. I haven’t been honest with myself or others and instead ran from my real feelings. I deserve better than that. And it’s only fair to let others know the Real Me and make decisions based on who she is versus who I think you want her to be. Needless to say it has been a Rebuilding Year.

Recently I went to a Sleepy Yoga class (aka Restore Yoga but I always drift off.) We were going into a deep quad stretch pose and were instructed to drop our heads back, just like in Fish pose. I flexed my muscles to keep my head in neutral like usual. It felt cramped and uncomfortable so I took a chance and dropped my head. I held it for a few breaths and then braced myself for the ensuing dizziness I’d have when I came out of the pose. I rose up and…nothing. It must have been a fluke. I dropped my head back again and soon rose up. Nothing. I finished the pose with my head back, throat open to the sky. It felt great – I’ve never been able to do that in the 20 years I’ve done yoga. It looks like my Throat Chakra has opened. I have finally found my truth. Dammit. Looks like Vicki was right after all.  

I Have a Freshman and Need Maternity Leave Now or Sure You Can Bring Over a Casserole

Have you noticed that when we first start out as moms we get a ton of help? There are support groups at the hospital and local church for new moms. You go to the doctor every 2-4 weeks to make sure your bundle of joy is thriving. Problems breastfeeding? There is a sweet nurse there to help you 24-7, just a short phone call away. People make you casseroles. You (hopefully – US, you are the worst at maternity leave) get time off of work to adjust. But where is that support now when our kids become older? Sure, I have a tribe of amazing people I can call and they will all be there when I need them most. But we all know that our tribe is crazy busy too so we only send out the bat signal in a dire emergency. I’m talking about the help for the mundane every day survival we are all going through. Casseroles were nice when I was a new mom, but looking back on things, I was home more and probably (had I known what I know now) could have rallied and fed myself. I need you to send me a casserole NOW when three of us in this house of four are in completely different directions at the same time. Can I get a laundry nurse instead of a lactation nurse now? I really can’t understand why football pants would be made white? Why? And maternity leave? Hey, I’m still a mom and I’ve got kids with ever shifting schedules. If I ever needed 6-12 weeks off of work, I could use it now.  And I’m fortunate to work with a flexible boss.  I can’t imagine life if I didn’t.

Every stage of parenthood is different. I couldn’t believe the overwhelming responsibility of becoming a mom. Here is someone I love more than life itself and I am completely responsible for not breaking him? And that was just the physical stuff! As they get older you realize you can also accidentally crush their souls too. Just this past weekend I was accused of doing the “cruelest, meanest, most monstrous thing anyone could do,” which at this point just made me proud of the Squirrel’s vocabulary. I don’t think the Moose broke out the word “monstrous” in third grade. Maybe I’m just developing parenting callouses. But now I find myself with a freshman and a third grader and life feels crazier than it did when they were little. Sure, diapers were awful, but so is finding out your third grader DOES have homework and it’s 8:30 p.m. Changing a diaper is a lot quicker than learning “new math.”  

This really started back in the summer with the Moose and his every changing schedule. The amount of organizing that has to happen to get someone to a 9 a.m. weight lifting session when all of the adults at the house start working by 8 a.m. is really a feat. Thankfully I have parents that are relatively close by and can help with schedules like this. I thought things would get better once school started because then my children would all be locked into one place between 7:30 a.m. and 3:30 p.m. Nope. We are on-call every night for that text for a ride home, not knowing exactly how long coach is going to run practice. Just last night we received the swimming schedule and it is completely the opposite of what it was before. While I get my Saturday mornings back, I lose my Friday nights. Practice EVERY Friday night? I can’t even. I am going to lose my mind. They said pregnancy brain was bad? That was just a teaser for life to come.

Despite keeping both online and paper calendars and organizers, I still seem to be dropping the ball. Every day there is a new note or a change in the game. Perhaps I am just too rigid in my ways to think that if someone says practice ends at 5:45, then it ends at 5:45. Maybe I’m the problem and just need to go with the flow more. Maybe you are thinking that my kids are over-scheduled. But I don’t think one sport a season is over scheduled. And they love it (well, the Squirrel would ALWAYS prefer Minecraft to swim practice but that’s exactly why we have swim practice.) Am I setting too high expectations for myself? Honestly my bar for success is so low now that if I have fed the kids and they are showered by 9 p.m., I consider it a decent day. I may just be in a new phase of adjustment again, just like when the kids were first born, first learning to walk, first going to school. 

I’m not sure what I think of this phase yet. It definitely is fast paced and I feel like I need my A game every single moment. And I also know that I rarely have the energy for my A game.

I don’t have the answers for what would make this stage in life easier. All I know is that I could go back to the time when people volunteered to come over to my house to throw in a load of laundry so I could nap when the baby is sleeping. And then they could slip out of the house as they leave a nice meal in the oven. Maybe instead of offering to change a diaper, now they could help with the math homework that I don’t have the patience to figure out. In fact, I’m guessing my whole tribe could use that. Maybe every time you get a freshman in your house, you get 6 weeks of paid maternity leave, all over again, that you can use as you see fit. Honestly, I have the feeling I’m going to need a whole lot more than 6 weeks over the next four years to feel like I have my life in order. But I’m going for the small ask to start with. Maybe when my kids grow up and have children, I’ll remember this time. And when their kids get older, I’ll remember that they still need help throwing in a load of laundry and doing up the dishes, they still need to sleep when they can steal a chance, and a homemade casserole in the freezer never hurt anyone.   

Facebook Syndrome or Failing at Being a Good Example

I’ve worked most of my life. I started walking beans when I was in my early teens, then worked in restaurants, rebuilt flooded out park trails, sold clothes, taught aerobics, sold lingerie, scooped ice cream, tried to improve people’s health, and finally landed in higher education. I can only think of a 3-month period since I was 16 when I wasn’t working – the brief time between graduating high school and starting college. I’ve worked because I needed the money and I’ve worked because I like what I do. I’ve never really considered not working, even when I had kids. Sure, there are times where I’ve daydreamed about being a stay-at-home mom, but sometimes the fact that I can go to the bathroom by myself at work, which I still have a hard time accomplishing with my kids now, is all I need to motivate me to put on my dress shoes and head to the office.

So on those rare weekdays off I like to pretend that I am a stay-at-home mom. I look around and see people out on walks with their kids, going to the park and the library – DURING THE DAY! -  and I think, is this what your life is like every day? For me it is a precious novelty – being able to do those daytime activities with my kids on a Monday. We go to the park, we go to the gym and the mall, we read and do art. This is what the other half of the mommy world looks like. And it looks pretty good. But then the next day it’s back to business – vacation is over – and I head back to work. I wouldn’t say I regret I didn’t stay home with my kids – it simply wasn’t an option. And it makes the time I am home with them even more important.

But if I’m being honest, when I look around at the people whose lives normally include a trip to the gym at 10:30 a.m. instead of 4:30 a.m. and the parents who can hit that 9 a.m. story hour at the library, I feel a little sense of snobbery. I go to work every day. I don’t have the life that allows me to sleep in and do things during the day. (SAHMs, please feel free to scream at me because I know in reality, you are NOT sleeping in.) I run the household and clean and sign permission slips all after 5 p.m. and I still get it all done! And I’ll admit, while exhausted, I feel a bit superior. I am a Super Mom. I work and parent and get it all done – sometimes. And when I don’t get it done, I get the pass for being a Working Mom. Look at me. Judging the Mommy Wars. Fantastic. I said I was being honest, not proud.

I thought I kept most of these thoughts and attitudes to myself, only occasionally sharing them with my fellow working moms. “How are WE supposed to go to swim lessons at 10 a.m.? Don’t most people work? It’s for all of those Stay-At-Homes…” How quickly we forget we are all in this battle together. How quickly we forget that staying at home all day with your children is so very difficult and is the definition of HARD WORK. I’m willing to bet they would like a day where they can get dressed and not worry about someone sneezing applesauce all over their white capris. And let’s be honest, all of this judgment comes from jealousy and the very real of feeling of not doing a good job being a mom. Everyone knows good moms stay at home with their kids and don’t let other people raise them. Even if being a good mom means working to help support the family and providing food and shelter, that’s not really what society thinks. Somehow we are supposed to be able to stay home and support the family at the same time. Oh the duality. But…this blog is not about the Mommy Wars. It is about the attitude I project and the expectations I am setting.

The kids didn’t have school on a Monday and I used one of my vacation days to hang out with them. The Moose and I decided to go to our favorite yoga class which on Mondays is at 10:45 a.m. – a time we never get to go to because…school and work. So this was a treat. We were walking through our fancy gym and the Moose looks over at me and says, “look at all of these Westport Moms.” And I stopped in my tracks.

One of our favorite family shows is American Housewife, where Katie is a regular sized mom living in a rich town called Westport full of very thin rich moms who don’t work and do yoga all day. She is constantly railing on how thin they are and making fun of how many fitbits they wear. And this show is funny. However, it seems to have made an impression on our kids. I asked Moose what he meant. “Well, why aren’t they all working? They are here at the gym (it is implied that they can afford the gym). I think everyone should work even if they have a lot of money – you should still work.” Hmm…I can’t say I didn’t think to myself “What do these people do that they can be hitting the gym in the middle of the day?!” But I didn’t want my teenager to be judgy too. I had earned my right to judge, hadn’t I? I work and days like this were a novelty. But what does he know? Or better question, what had I been modeling?

Why did this feel so icky? Is it because he’s in no place to have an opinion or judgement on these people? On my most gracious day I figure they are all people who work a second or third shift. On my worst day I see the size 2 moms in their yoga clothes, dropping their kids off at the onsite daycare to go to spinning or yoga and think, nice life you have there. Not my best side. And now my son is feeling the same way. Even without saying anything to him, have I perpetuated this attitude?

And it’s not so much that he’s 13 and is judging these adults. It’s the fact that he’s going to be a man someday and could be judging these adults. What is he going to expect from his significant other? What am I modeling as a mom and woman? Does he think that the wife (should he choose to marry a woman of course) should have kids, work, and manage the house all at once? Does he know how hard I work? Does he know how much I complain, stress, don’t sleep, and worry about getting it all done? The endless lists of things to do that can’t be done while I’m at work? Does he think this culture of never resting, this status symbol of busy, is what is expected?

I’m not really setting a good example of what an awesome mom and woman should be. Sure, I work and parent the best I can. But there are a lot of days I’m just barely scrapping by. I missed getting the Squirrel into a swim meet because I missed the deadline – in my defense they moved it up three days and didn’t tell us until it was due – but still I missed it and now he’s not swimming in the meet. I’ve apologized and consider it one of the casualties of the end of the school year hustle. I literally can’t get it all done. Why are we eating sandwiches every night? Because we are beyond busy right now and I don’t have time to look up crockpot recipes so it’s grilled cheese night…again.

I’m not saying I’m not doing a good job. I am. I am doing the best I can and I acknowledge that sometimes my best is mediocre. But what do the Moose and Squirrel see? They see a mom who yells at them sometimes, who bakes fresh muffins and breakfast every Wednesday, cleans before work on Friday mornings, who goes off to work every day but still tries to make it to all of their school and sporting events. They don’t see the hustle and the scramble and the occasional tears and frantic texts to other moms because she cannot remember where practice is at. The flagged emails, the to-do lists that are literally 56 items long, and the fact that she gets up at 4:15 a.m. not because she wants to but because it’s the only time of day she can squeeze in a workout because good moms are also fit and healthy. They think her coffee addiction is cute, not a necessity, which it is because she could not hold it together without artificial assistance. They don’t know she looks at her tribe and says, “I’ve fucked it up again.” They don’t know she goes to therapy to hold it all together twice a month because she is never perfect enough.

So. In true Catholic fashion, I’ve found a way to own the blame for the Moose’s attitude and I feel guilty. What can I do? Maybe it’s time to scale back the hustle. To make these boys better future men and let them see behind the curtain of Oz, where I’m frantically spinning wheels and turning nobs to project a reality that simply isn’t real. Maybe this mom needs to sit down and read a book instead of starting dinner with her coat still on when she rushes in the door. Maybe this mom needs to have her sons cook dinner once a week instead. Part of that is setting down my expectation that I should be able to do it all – I love feeling like the perfect mom. But it’s Facebook-Syndrome isn’t it? (Can I trademark that?) The situation where it all looks like sunshine, unicorns and sparkles on the outside but on the inside it is constant exhaustion, anxiety and stress.

I’ve written about this before, but it’s time to put down the magic wand and start showing Cinderella as she really is – a girl in a slimy pumpkin being pulled by rats. I’ve always thought I needed to do this for myself but now I’m starting to realize I need to do this for my boys. I don’t want them to have expectations for themselves or their significant others that they can do it all. No one can. And if you have girls, you don’t want them thinking it too. Hell, I don’t want my friends thinking it anymore either! Someone has to break this cycle and be the Screw Up aka Real Mom. I’m willing to take one for the team and be the shining example of mediocrity. But instead of shooting for the stars and hitting the side of the barn, I’ll just shoot for the barn now.

Does this mean I won’t still plan special things for my kids or bake homemade cookies? No. I actually like doing that stuff. But it does mean I won’t beat myself up when I don’t want to socialize after work because my social energy for the day has been eaten by my job and I need some quiet, even if it makes me seem like a Not-Fun Mom. It means that I’ll stop trying to clean the whole house before work on Friday. It means I’ll do the fun stuff when I’m feeling good, not overwhelmed and running on empty. I think the key is to do the stuff you like when you feel good. For example, I like making summer bucket lists, not to tick off some Super Mom requirement, but because I love setting goals and trying new things. How do we know if we’ve crossed the line from stuff we enjoy doing to stuff we do so we look good? It’s when we don’t feel compelled to post it on social media - then we know it’s a green light. Now if you made the world’s most amazing cake, post it – way to go! But only post it if you would have also posted the fail picture if it hadn’t turned out. If we are only doing something so the outside can look amazing while the inside is dying, then we know it’s not healthy for us.

This will have to start tomorrow. I’ve already cleaned the house while the boys were eating their special Last Day of School Breakfast that I made. I’m not going to lie – I made them pose toasting their sparkling mocktails so I could take a picture. Fail! This change is going to take some time. Next year, special Last Day of School Breakfast will be cereal, unless I’m feeling well-rested – then they can eat muffins.

I'm a Mom, Not a Maid or Finding Jenny

It was another typical morning of getting after the kids to get ready for school AGAIN! It fails me how intelligent children cannot remember to get their shoes on and their teeth brushed. Or how it takes them 15 minutes to do a 30 second chore. Seriously. It ended as it usually does with me lecturing them in the car on the way to school about responsibility and respect. “I shouldn’t have to tell you to put on your shoes everyday…” “No screens in the morning for the rest of the week!” “I even made you breakfast – all you had to do is eat it and get dressed!” “I am a Mom, not a maid – you can clear your breakfast dishes!”

This is a pretty normal part of our morning sadly. While I would rather start the day like June Cleaver, my best efforts usually end in frustration. But why was it bothering me so much today? I couldn’t really put my finger on it, but it felt like I was being taken advantage of. It felt like I was being treated like a disposable…Mom.

How can I explain it? My kids were acting like kids. Of course Mom makes sure they have packed school bags, breakfast on the table, signed school notes and a ride to school. That’s what Moms do. Then she goes to work all day. After work, she rushes to the sporting events, while at the same time tries to figure out when we’ll all eat dinner, looks through the backpacks for homework assignments, and reads the school emails. She tosses the sports uniforms in the laundry, packs the lunch bags for the next day, updates the online calendar of family events and reads bedtime stories. Somewhere in there she pays the bills and cleans the house, gets the groceries and buys the upcoming presents for the parties and schedules doctors’ appointments. Rinse and repeat. Over and over and over.

This is what Moms do, right? We are care givers and managers. And we love it don’t we? We love being Moms, sure we do. And in all honesty, I DO love being a Mom. I love that the kids can count on me, no matter what. I do love watching my kids’ sporting events. But…I don’t love how they monopolize every evening or an entire weekend. I want my kids to feel loved and cared for and to know that Mom is there. I want to be the safety net. However, I also want my kids to know me for who I am, not what I do.  

I realized that Jenny does not actually WANT to pay the bills or get the groceries or be the one in the house who knows what’s for dinner. Jenny likes to eat when she’s hungry, even if that means dinner is cereal at 9 p.m. Jenny does not WANT to clean the house or help with math homework. Jenny would rather go for a walk or read or watch tv.  Jenny does not WANT to spend 9 hours on a Saturday to watch her son throw something 6 times and run for 15 seconds. Jenny has other ways to spend 9 hours. Mom may want to do all these things but Jenny does not.

Who the heck is this Jenny anyway? She sounds like a selfish bitch, but that might just be Mom talking. Because once you are a Mom, those kids’ needs should always come first. It is Mom code. But I think Jenny is someone I used to know. Somewhere around 13 years ago she ghosted out, run off from the overwhelming responsibility that comes with a new baby who never sleeps. She left the party so Mom could come in and take care of the house and kids. And being Mom is a full-time job. There was no room for Jenny anymore in that world. And no one really invited her back – why would they when Mom does such a great job? It was assumed that Jenny would be Mom and that Mom would be Jenny. But while Jenny turned into Mom, Mom just wasn’t able to leave space open for Jenny to live too. So Jenny left.

Confused yet? Or does it resonate with you? Maybe you’ve been able to retain your identity from before kids, but I didn’t. And it struck me that I really don’t even remember who Jenny is anymore. And that makes me sad and it also really pisses me off. At some point I lost who I was. And now I’m determined to find Jenny again. Unfortunately I’m not sure where to start.

My life revolves around these little balls of energy – I honestly don’t know what else there is anymore. What did Jenny even like to do when she was Jenny – before everything edged her out. I sat down to write a list of things I liked back when I didn’t have to manage a household or be responsible for the wellbeing of others. Here’s what I came up with:

Art
Friends

Exercise
Health
Music
Sticker books
Playing the drums
Unicorns
Reading
Swinging
Writing
Laughing
Cats

Obviously I had to really scrape the bottom of the barrel to remember things that I loved when I was Jenny. I’m pretty sure sticker books and unicorns are a little outdated. But I loved nothing more than to get a new album and to listen to it all in one sitting, reading the lyrics. And I loved reading and writing. I loved exercising back when I wasn’t trying to outrun my “Mom Bod.”

Am I saying I don’t want to be a Mom still? No. I love being Mom. I identify with being Mom. But I also want to create room and space for Jenny. I miss her. I’m tired of feeling overlooked because I’m Mom. They wouldn’t overlook Jenny. Jenny has feelings and interests and hobbies. Jenny has a personality. Frankly Mom is a little boring and a task master.

I think it’s going to have to be a balancing act. Let’s be real. There really is no separating out Jenny from Mom. And I don’t want to. We need Mom. And I like Mom. There are simply times where Mom is the only one who can do the job and it feels good to feel capable and needed – it fulfills something in me. Being a Mom changed who I am for the better. But that doesn’t mean Jenny can’t also show up sometimes and ask for what she needs. As icky as that feels for Mom, it’s time for Jenny to be heard.

I’m not sure how I’m going to rediscover Jenny yet. It’s going to take some changes and not the kind that come easily. It’s going to take some space and some quiet and some boundaries. And Mom isn’t good at any of those. Mom likes to bake cookies even when she is tired because that’s what good Moms do and everyone loves fresh baked cookies. But if I want Jenny to come back to this party known as life, I’ve got to welcome her back and make space for her on the couch. Maybe the kids will fight over who gets to sit next to Jenny, just like they fight over who gets to sit by Mom. There might be days she needs to sit by herself too and on those days, we’ll have to give her the permission to do that. Otherwise she may not stay. And trust me, this party is way better when she’s here.

Scars Are For the Living or Nothing Worth Doing Is Easy

Happy birthday to me! Birthdays are always a time for reflection for me. There is nothing I love more than a new goal or an excuse to start something new. It’s also a time to look back and think about what worked and what just sucked. And honestly, these past two years have been doozies. So many challenges and so many scars.

Old news: Right after I turned 39 I went in for knee surgery. It ended up being pretty significant surgery that continues to impact my daily life. For example, today I canceled my spot in spin class because I’m having a hard time walking without limping. Why? Who the hell knows. Maybe because my knee is officially another year older and decided to remind me that I’m not 23 anymore. Knees are bitches. They act all nice and then take you out at the…knees.

My 40^th year, that was going to be my year to crush it. And well, it turned out to be crushing instead. I thought I had done hard before. Nope. That is laughable compared to the year I am surviving. There were days where I just waved the white flag and acknowledged that getting dressed was going to be my grand accomplishment. I’m not going to lie – I’m still having those days – they are just thankfully fewer and farther between.

Over these past 730 days I’ve accumulated more and more scars. Some of them you can see and some you can’t. But they are all deep and they still sting. But I read a line in a book several years ago that puts things in perspective. It goes a little something along the lines of “Scars may not be pretty. But scars don’t form on dead people.” That is totally not exactly what it said, but you get the gist. If we are fully living, we are going to get banged up and bruised in this life. And we get to decide if we are going to walk around like a dead person, perpetually bleeding out of that wound. Let me say that hey, it’s okay to walk around bleeding for a while. You have to. The body doesn’t just instantly heal if it’s been hurt. But you have a choice to live too. And if you are going to live, then you are going to need to let that hurt heal, to stitch itself up, otherwise you are not fully living. No one wants to walk around spouting blood and guts everywhere. Does that mean that the stitches don’t open sometimes? They will. Living means joy and it also means pain. Sometimes a big wound will still get little cuts around it. There will be days it will swell up and you'll need to slow down physically and emotionally. But friends, please let that big wound start to heal. Have patience. You will want to feel better right away because feeling like shit sucks. You’ll have to just live in that garbage for a while though I’m sorry to say. It will get better if you let it. 

You are not going to be the same. Scars make us look different. That’s because big changes are just that – changes. You are going to be different as you heal. You are going to change. There is no going back to the way things were. You get to decide whether you want to wallow in that fact or if you want to live on with this new look, this new reality. You can be stronger if you choose or you can decide you want to live your life sitting on the couch watching Netflix all day. Of course if the new season of Stranger Things just dropped, you have my permission to binge watch that until you are done.

So despite all of the mess this year has been, it has been fantastic. Not fun, but fantastic. I have gotten to grow this year. I have been challenged to be a better person than I knew was possible. Am I happy? Um, I’m not sure I can say I’m happy. But the scars are slowing knitting together. I can see that and that makes me happy.

This year I’ve been able to grow in patience, tolerance, kindness, compassion and love. The Dalai Lama says the first four are the path to happiness. Maybe they are – who am I to argue with a religious leader? And those five things sound like amazing ways to live your life, right? But they are just words until you learn what it means to live them. From my experience, you don’t learn to live those words until you are challenged in ways that make it impossible to live them. That’s when you discover what you are capable of - this is the good stuff - when you get the chance to grow. Patience is taking a deep breath and tolerating situations that seem unbearable. Some things just can’t be fixed or at least not quickly. Living in the unknown and having faith it will get better - that is patience.  Tolerance is being around toxic people and looking beyond the outside crust and understanding their motives, which are never personal, no matter how much they feel that way. Kindness is giving grace when you feel like the person does not deserve it. Compassion is going beyond what you feel, no matter how deep, and caring about how the other person feels, even if they inflicted the wound. And love. Boy, aren’t we all loving people? Love is a great sentiment until you are asked to love someone who feels unlovable to you. Love isn’t reciprocal. You can love someone and they will not love you back. That’s their choice. But it’s your choice to give that love anyway. Because that is your power and that is in your control. 

It is so easy to be nasty, to take revenge, to say the spiteful thing. God help me, that is what I am so good at. Words are my weapons and I can take you down at the smallest infraction. Sadly, I can still be this way sometimes. But true control and power is rising above that and giving grace. It doesn’t feel as satisfying in the moment but further down the line, it is the wiser choice. I can’t control how others treat me or how they feel about me. But I can control my actions, basing them on who I am and who I want to be. I want to be patient, kind, tolerant, compassionate, honest, loving and truthful. I cannot grow in those areas unless I am challenged to be more than I am today. I have learned to say how I feel even though I know it will be scoffed at, ridiculed and stomped on. And it is hard to watch your true emotions be kicked in the dirt. But truth is one of my pillars – I know this now. I will not regret saying what I mean if it comes from a place of love, grace and truth.

So this year. It’s been a real bitch. But I’m better for it. The scars make me stronger and humble. They have taught me who I am and have given me opportunities to push myself in my humanity. It has not been enjoyable. But nothing worth doing ever came from easy. Here's to another amazing year! 

8 Simple Ways You Can Help Me Take a Nap or A Memo to Management RE Nap Time

MEMO

TO: The Management, Moose and Squirrel

FROM: Director of Operations, Mom

RE: REQUEST FOR NAP TIME

I would like to submit my proposal for time off. I would like to institute irregular nap times, in 60 minute intervals, on very occasional days. My rationale is that my usual work day is scheduled from 6 a.m. – 9 p.m. with a 24-hour on call commitment.  While I try to schedule my PTO between 4:15 – 6 a.m. daily, I am finding that in order to perform at my best, I would do best with a 60-minute nap twice a month, during a time when we are not running in circles. I would ensure that you are fed, entertained and not in a scheduled activity requiring transportation during this potential hour-long nap.

The benefits to management of granting these periodic nap times would be that I might finally remember school picture day, stay awake to watch a full movie with you, and be more enthusiastic for a 90-minute session of Chutes and Ladders after a long workday. Overall, I believe the ROI for nap time outweighs the lost productivity I’ll experience by taking these time outs.

I will need your support to conduct these nap times efficiently. Here are eight simple things you can do to help me execute these proposed nap times. While reviewing this list, please remember the ROI of this proposal as I know that some of these requests will be challenging.

1. Don’t talk to me. If you are talking to me, you will expect a response. A sleeping person cannot respond. I will get you a glass of milk in one hour. Or you may submit your request to the Assistant Director of Operations, your dad.

2. Don’t whisper to me. When I say “please do not talk to me” and you lean in and whisper instead, you seem to not realize that this is the same thing as talking. Even if you lean in REALLY close to my face and whisper. That actually makes it louder and harder to ignore, plus you are now breathing directly on my face. Whispering = talking. Please see item one on this list for an explanation of item two.

3. Do not invite your friends over. I know your personal pleasure is priority one in our organization, however, more people in the house usually increases the noise level. And I also feel that as the Director of Operations, I must be conscious and responsible if other children are in the house. Your friends are absolutely welcome to come over…in one hour.

4. Don’t turn the volume up on the TV. It seems that this would be an obvious request but somehow the reasoning is that if I am napping on the sofa, you think I want to hear the television in my sleep. This is an error on my side for not being more clear that I would like to sleep and not watch Sharknado 4…again.

5. Don’t snuggle with me to help me sleep. I understand that this one sounds like something you SHOULD do doesn’t it? Who doesn’t love to fall asleep snuggling? Even I think snuggling sounds amazing. And yet, your definition of snuggling means to wiggle constantly. And wiggling wakes me up. Especially if you are larger than me (I’m talking to you Moose.) If you lay down next to me, you must act like a statue. A nontalking statue if I’m making requests.

6. Don’t fight over who gets to sit next to me. Wrestling on top of me while I am trying to relax is actually counterproductive for me and inevitably I end of getting kneed in the ribs. We either need to schedule who gets to sit by me or institute a rule that I nap alone. I will leave this decision up to management. I just request that you don’t make this decision while physically fighting next to me during this nap.

7. Don’t start a new project that you don’t know how to do. No, I don’t know how to start your science kit. Yes, you should probably wear gloves – wait, what? Stop. Just stop what you are doing. You don’t have to try a new thing when I’m trying to take a quick time out. Just wait. You can do it. And if you do, I might have the energy to help you when I get up. I believe I mentioned this in my rationale in the body of my memo.

8. And don’t be TOO quiet. You and I both know that when you are too quiet, you are usually doing something you shouldn’t. Like playing on your iPad when it’s technology free day. Or mixing weird drinks in the kitchen. Just make a little bit of a rustling sound, like leaves in the fall. That would be perfect. I can fall asleep to rustling leaves. But pure silence will wake me up in a panic.

I hope to hear back from management soon regarding my proposal. In the meantime, I will continue to drink coffee and soda throughout the day to stay awake. We only have track, soccer and swimming on the agenda for today. I will start baking the tomorrow’s muffins later tonight, as soon as we finish your math homework.