First, let me just say….ow. I can’t walk straight. My legs are wobbling, it hurts to stand up, my arse feels like it’s broken and I’m writing this in a bathtub I may not be able to exit. I’m back … Continue reading
Tag Archives: family
Be it so angry
Ironically, I woke up angry today.
Anger is natural. Anger is the response we as tiny humans choose unthinkingly when we don’t get what we want, and at 44 I am embarrassed to say it is still often my first response.
My poor little kid’s coughing and hacking in the night after finally having a day where he was mostly well after a 5 day streak of viral fevers had me instantly furious.
WTH? Can’t we get a break? Can’t I get a break? Why does everything happen at once?!!
After two hours of positive reading, praying, drinking tea and trying to get warm downstairs I’m letting it go. I should have probably gotten on the treadmill but I am letting that go too. Baby steps.
Yes, it’s been a rough two weeks here. I’ve been sick with colds and stomach flu, we’ve suffered some minor injuries, we’ve been washing laundry non-stop, and we’re all pretty exhausted. When life gets like that, and it seems you go from one trial to another, it can get rough.
The truth is, this stuff – this stuff that happens: sickness, pain, struggle – isn’t going away. It’s a part of life. It sucks, but honestly it’s minor league. But when we give into anger over it we lose every time: our energy, our focus, our joy, and our immune systems are compromised.
And the last thing my little boy, my gift, my treasure needs from his mom is any negative energy. Only positive energy heals. Only love prevails. I will be that love. I will be the mom he deserves.
Thank you God, that it is a fever and cold, and not something worse. Thank you God that the coughing is getting the garbage out of his system. Thank you God that I can afford a house with heat and blankets and medicine to care for my child. Thank you God that he is getting well. Thank you God. Thank you God. Thank you God.
Murphy’s Law is not Mine
I sit here in an ER, all by myself. I checked in and realized my wallet is not with me: my husband graciously took pictures of my documentation and the kind folks at the ER let me in.
I am waiting to get my stitches from this morning redone.
They weren’t stitches I was expecting – I ended up getting a biopsy on my finger when I went to the dermatologist.
So distracted was I by the biopsy and to some extent annoyed, that on the way home from the appointment that I didn’t notice that I was doing 70 in a 55 until I passed the cop.
The cop, of course stopped me. He told me he’d got me with laser far exceeding the limit. I smiled sheepishly. When he asked me where I was coming from I showed him my bandaid.
He took my License and insurance back to his squad while I tried to keep from panicking. After what seemed a long time, the kind officer told me told me that he had no idea why he felt compelled to do so, that he was letting me off with a warning. I thanked him profusely and pushed onward.
Tonight I dragged myself to the gym even though I didn’t want to go. I made commitments I wanted to keep: I wanted to be a trooper. I worked hard but tried to be smart about it – that said, I don’t know how but I busted my stitches wide open. After failed attempts on the way home from the gym to McGuyver the wound and leaving my husband home with the kids at 10:30 at night I left to go to ER.
There was a time I would be angry and impatient and yelling at something like this: there was a time I would naturally conclude the world conspired against me.
- I had a car to drive to the doctor,
- I had money to pay for the doctor,
- An officer showed me mercy when I did not deserve it,
- The ER let me in without ID or question,
- My husband ran around and took pictures of all my information and sent it to me without complaint,
- Someone is going to take care of this hand eventually, and
- Of everyone here I am in the least discomfort with plenty of entertainment. My ouchie is more embarrassing than painful. I’m not the helplessly watching mom with the violently ill little girl who is crying between bouts of vomit.
- The doctors didn’t laugh at me or my Rudolph band-aid.
Thank you, I am just fine. God is taking care of me. Some nice nurse just brought me a warm blanket. And I don’t mean to sound Hallmark-y but I’ll take the ER any day as long as my kiddos are safe and warm in the home I will eventually return to sometime in the next few hours. I will have a comfortable bed to sleep in once I get there when for some the ER cots are luxury.
I will count my blessings today and call out my miracles when I see them…and be grateful that I DO see them, everywhere, not the least of which in my own perspective.
“I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up!”
Yes, it was a bad television commercial for some kind of medical alert bracelet, but how many times have you found yourself getting caught up in one mistake and either a)letting it suck you dry and giving up entirely on whatever it was you were attempting or b)focusing so much on the mistake you just made that you make another because you’re so stuck mentally on a past error you can’t see what’s right in front of you?
I have lost weeks of my life and productivity and happiness and peace because I could not see past my own mistakes. Whether I sacrificed my mood, my attention, or my own perception of myself, I have made Mt. Everest out of problems that started out the size of mouse poop…that seriously ended up the size of two mountains and a mini-van because I didn’t deal with them in a healthy way.
(And don’t ask me how I know what the size of a mouse poop is. I just know.)
When you make a mistake, do you find yourself doing any of the following?
- Generalizing – “Well, I guess I’ll just add that to my long list of things I’ve screwed up” and then look back over your metal inventory of errors;
- Freezing – Getting so stuck in thinking through every dire and terrible thing that will surely come as a consequence of your mistake that you can do nothing else;
- Negative Self-Talk – I’m such an idiot, I’m a failure, and then of course calling your friends/associates not for help solving the problem but to talk negatively about yourself to them as a sort of self-punishment;
- Ruminating – where you literally can’t think straight or notice what is going on around you because your brain is so focused on what you had done wrong that you’re in a mental and emotional tailspin;
- Blaming – hoping like hell there is someone else you can pin the error on to take the heat off yourself in any way possible so you don’t have to own what you did;
- Hiding – Making great efforts to cover up your mistake or praying simply that no one else notices and trying to convince yourself you hadn’t noticed either
Take it from someone who knows and has been there: if you’re looking for a way to waste your life, breath, and energy and potentially endanger your health, job, self-worth and friendships, then feel free to continue, but it’s not something I’d recommend.
Here’s the difficult thing: whatever it is – it’s done. The only safe way to handle a mistake is to look it straight in the face, own it, take responsibility for it and whatever that entails. You then try to find a solution for it, make reparations, and problem-solve as effectively and as completely as possible and move on, trying not to repeat the mistake.
Moving on, by the way, means *really* moving on. Leave it in the sand. Drop it. Forgive yourself. I once heard it said like this: your body doesn’t ask if you are worthy when it knows there has been damage done. It just starts work on healing what’s there without judgement. Do that for yourself. Take the next best steps whatever those are, one at a time.
How many years of your life could we get back if we treated ourselves with the same objectivity when we messed up, and worked to fix our issues and mistakes without the judgment, shame, or mental mess that so often trips us up? What if we treated others the same way? Oh what a world we could create!
Get Back Up. Brush Yourself Off. Rub some dirt on it. Life is a giant adventure and you’ve got better things ahead and no time to waste! Get up and get at them today!
The Parental Juggling Act
When you have two working parents, and two children, there are many different things you have to try to balance. It’s not easy. It’s exhausting. It frequently requires a tag-team effort.
Yes, there are the meals that go uncooked, the house that goes uncleaned, and mass chaos but on top of that there are other considerations:
- Determining which of us is less likely to face career retribution from staying home or leaving early to take care of kids;
- Figuring out which one of us is actually more tired and frustrated (competitive self-pity);
- Delegation of triage procedures for toy-related injuries;
- Which series on the DVR to delete because we’ve never managed to catch up;
- Which children’s program is the least annoying;
- Setting a date and time to actually have a conversation not involving scheduling, kids, or finances…
and the actually managing to do it;
- Locating and/or remembering what presents were hidden where and who they were for in the first place;
- Figuring out who gets to eat the treats we deny our children for health reasons (aka taking one for the team)!
Can you relate to any of this? Parenthood: a wonderful journey requiring frequent comedy breaks and a massive sense of humor!
Things I Don’t Get
My niece has inspired a new list for me this evening. I will call it “Things I Don’t Get”…
1. Why anyone would need an additional belly button tattoo right next to the original: was the first one lonely?Didn’t it hurt enough the first time?
2. Skinny jeans: they certainly don’t make anyone skinny!
3. 18 self-checkout machines manned by 3 employees staring at the 26 people in the regular check-out lane for who shopping in the first place was a big enough ordeal without bagging it all too…
3.5 Ditto for airport self service kiosks;
4. Entertainment venues offering children’s parties where parents are not free;
5. The existence of caffeine-free diet soda in general (and how I have managed twice now in two weeks to buy it);
6. Why they can’t make in rewards card that accommodates a plethora of vendors;
Clearly I am getting old, rigid and easily confused, but honestly it wears me out just thinking about this stuff.
The first item on my list is really just to razz my sister about her crazy kids…though yeah, STILL don’t get it.
Split a Million Ways
Those articles that shout “you too can have it all” must be outright lies…or just belong to someone else’s reality.
It has been well over a month since I have written anything more elaborate than a Facebook status: partially because I haven’t had time and partially because I get ashamed when I see myself falling behind and would rather fall off the map than admit I see an inability to get everything done as a weakness instead of just a practical reality.
In the past few weeks, I have had a loved one unexpectedly hospitalized (way scary), giant projects at work, the birth of a new niece and travel shoved in with general survival. Add in several anxiety attacks, occasional bouts of exercise, toddler tantrum remediation and obligatory social occasions and you have…
It’s the way it goes. You roll with it or fight it; the former has benefits of conservation of energy, the latter allows room for the illusion that we have much control.
I went away for a hiring event (one I worked my arse off to plan and execute) for one of my company’s locations. It was many long hours on my feet, and my blister’s blisters had babies over a 4 day period.
My sainted hubby had the kids alone while I was gone. Both kids and the dog got sick at the same time. After 4 days of business travel I flew home, got off the plane, arrived at my house (after an hour stuck in rush hour traffic) and took over for the weekend.
Today I went back to work wondering
If I really did anything this weekend beyond herding crying children, wiping gooey, snotty faces and hiding in the bathroom (which doesn’t work by the way).
And yet? I have a job to go to and a reason to work hard. I have the children and family I always wanted. We’re not rich, but we have a roof and clothes and help should we need it. I have reasons to laugh daily. Everyone made it through their various illnesses, and I am still here to write about it all.
And while I wish I were writing more, perhaps I should just be grateful I can write at all, and be pleased when I can eek out more than a fragment in a bathroom stall (ew!) or during bouts of insomnia.
Or maybe at least I can be willing to accept that I am human, I can only do so much, and be thankful for those things that I do manage to get done…and accept that for me, if I am spending time cuddling my babies (and yes, they are not technically babies, dangit, but they are my babies) and providing for their welfare as best I can, I’m doing okay…and maybe work on trying to better fit some of the other bits in there too and not be so hard on myself.
The Evolution of Dreams
I have always thought it important to have both dreams and goals. For much of my life, that was difficult to articulate: I am one for who most of those dreams have always been a little hazy and insubstantial…with a few exceptions:
Early Morning Debacles of the Embarrassing Kind
I woke this morning before 5am, as is becoming normal for me. I went into the bathroom, starting to get ready to take a shower and I realized my iPhone was at 1% of battery life. Instantly panicked (as anyone as phone-dependent as I am quickly becomes at this status) I brought my phone over to the outlet in the bedroom and plugged it in. I started checking my email, etc. and the next thing I knew, ended up working on a blog post for www.mischiefofminions.com (my other blog, more kiddie-focused: feel free to check it out!).
My husband discovered me still there when he woke up 40 minutes later.
“Um – whatcha doing?” he asked.
Hiding from Food
I may have mentioned before that I am fat. It’s not much of a secret. I don’t like to use that term, hate it in fact, but it is a medical reality. And I am struggling once again in attempt to fight it.
My inspiration is simple: I don’t want to be this big. I hate it. I sometimes hate me because of it. And that is not a good example to be setting for my kids.
When I went to a doctor recently because I seem to struggle with losing weight – even when I eat the right things, I was put through a battery of tests that basically said there isn’t a darn thing wrong with me. The dietician looked at food logs I presented, then back at me, perplexed.