Mickey Mouse Saves the Day!

Today I sat on the floor in the playroom and colored a gigantic picture of Mickey Mouse while my children played nearby; because some days parenting well means taking care of myself first.  To some that might sound selfish, but I challenge you to think through this with me.  Can we be the best moms, wives, daughters, and friends we can be if we are running ragged and pouring ourselves out without ever filling ourselves back up?  Can a carpet cleaner keep a carpet clean if we keep using the same dirty water? (This example should inform you that I live with 3 boys and a dog.) No, it can't and we can't.  

Being a good mom doen't mean giving EVERYTHING you have and not doing anything for yourself.  Quite the contrary.  In the world of Social Work and Psychology, we have a term for this called "self care" (no, we didn't make this up, I'm sure).  In graduate school and in our workplaces, we spend a lot of time talking about this concept and instilling in ourselves the idea that this is an absolutely essential part of being a good Helper.  This is not only true for Helping professions.  It's true everywhere.  We must take care of ourselves before we can take care of others.  

Heck, even flight attendants teach us this-- 

"In case of emergency, secure your own breathing mask before assisting small children with theirs."

Jesus teaches us this as well.  In Matthew 11:28 He says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest".  Today, Jesus gave me rest in the form of my favorite childhood pasttime.  He met me exactly where I was, because that's where I needed Him to be-- in the scent of colored wax and giant paper.  

Putting myself first is so hard sometimes-- not because I'm so incredibly selfless, but because I like to think that I'm Superwoman and I can "do it all" (I have an issue with dependence.  I may have written about that in a previous post), but I'm learning that it is essential in the world of motherhood.  

So thanks, Mickey, for being my air mask today, and thank you, Jesus for telling me that it's ok. (Oh, and thank you for friends who are understanding and supportive when I send them text messages saying that my children have been possessed and to be on standby if I need backup.  These women are my heroes. Couldn't do this thing without them.)

The Day the AC died

Apparently, it's supposed to get up to 90 degrees here in Lancaster County today. So naturally, today would be the day that our 30 year old air conditioner would die (the good news is, we were planning to replace it anyway, & we know a guy). 

All the heat has caused this party of 3 to be quite still today, which is hard, but so necessary. 

This stillness has allowed me to be more mindful of my surroundings for the moment.  As I stood at my kitchen window earlier, I witnessed one neighbor mowing his grass with a riding mower & another mowing his with a mule--very different methods, but both effective. Neither is better than the other, just different. 

This reminded me of motherhood: many different methods & opinions. None better than the others, just different (with the exception of "methods" that are abusive-- that's a whole other topic), and yet, we women sometimes attack each other over these differences of opinion. So it made me think: when did motherhood become a competitive sport? Did our mothers and theirs before them experience the same thing as young mothers? Was there ever a time that moms, on the whole, didn't berate each other over choices like breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding & disposable vs. cloth? What do we gain from this? Nothing. In fact, not only do we damage others, we damage ourselves by missing out on opportunities to learn & grow. 

The mom that had a c-section is just as much of a mom as the one that didn't. The mom that mothers babies that others have physically given birth to is just as much a mom as any other mom out there (and often has a tougher job). Sometimes our plans for motherhood go awry. I know mine did. I was positive that I would have a natural birth & breastfeed for an entire year. That didn't happen. With Davyd, I had to have a c-section because, during labor, his heart rate dropped & didn't come back up. Between the time that Dr. Eichenlaub said "We're doing a c-section. Now." to the time that Davyd was out was less than 10 minutes-- it was that emergent. In the end, I'm just thankful that he & I were both ok. Then came breastfeeding. We tried. It didn't work. And yes, that's possible. I just didn't produce enough to meet his caloric needs. I tried my hardest, spending many nights sobbing as I tried to nurse him, until I finally allowed myself to "give up" & do what was best for him, which was bottle feeding. I spent way too much time feeling guilty about his birth & eating. This guilt came from many sources, including myself, the media, & other moms. I still feel guiltily sometimes, which is ridiculous, because the choices were simple: have a c-section & we'd both be ok, or try a natural birth & lose him; and keep breastfeeding & let him lose weight, or bottle feed him & provide the nourishment he needed. Still, I felt like I was broken, and some other moms out there in the world tried to keep me feeling that way. Thankfully the ones that matter to me provided the support I needed.

The point is, there's no need for all this judgment-- of ourselves, or other moms. Parenting is THE HARDEST job in the world, & we should all give ourselves & other parents a break. 

I say this knowing that I often fight the urge to judge another mom when I'm in the grocery store & the mom gives in to her child's incessant pleading for the snack he wants. But how do I know what that mom has endured today? Maybe she has reached the last millimeter of sanity & has decided that giving in to the whining will save her from having her own meltdown in the middle of the cereal aisle. If I think about it that way, I can't blame her. If I'm honest, I've done the same thing. There comes a point in every mom's day that she JUST. CAN'T. anymore. And that's ok. In those times, we should be reaching out to each other with a glass of wine. I mean support. No really, a glass of wine. Let's just be honest. 

Today, I read the story of Mary (Jesus' mom) going to stay with her cousin, Elizabeth, who was also pregnant, when Mary found out that she was going to have Jesus. I have to think that they both felt overwhelmed & incompetent. I mean, one was "way too old" to have a baby, & the other one was practically a child herself. But instead of judging each other for their differences, they clung to each other for dear life (this is my guess, based on my own feelings about motherhood). These women were brilliant. Let's all be Marys & Elizabeths, shall we? 

💜 

A letter to my teenaged self

Recently I've asked the faculty at Linden Hall to write letters to themselves as teenagers as a way to give advice to our girls.  Reliving adolescence is not something I enjoy, but writing this letter turned out to be very therapeutic.  Here's the result: 

Jess,

                Your parents do know what they’re talking about.  Listen to them.

                Don’t worry about what “those girls” have to say.  They’re not friends.  Their opinion of you doesn’t matter, because they don’t know you or care about you.  They make those comments because they’re insecure about themselves.  Really, you should feel sorry for them (someday you will). 

                That guy… he’s not worth it either.  You may think there couldn’t be anyone better for you.  There is, and he is so much better for you than you can imagine right now.  He’ll complement you in all the best ways.  Before you meet him, though, you have to get comfortable with yourself.

                In the next few years a lot will happen.  You’ll lose some people who are very important to you.  It will hurt.  A lot.  In the end, you won’t regret getting close to them.  Some of these people were good for you; some weren’t, but you learned from each relationship and it made you a better person.  There will be a time that you won’t want to let people get close to you because you don’t want to get hurt.  Fight this feeling.  There are people you should stay away from, but there are more that will become like family if you take a risk and open yourself up to them. 

                Seek advice from people who have gone through this part of life already (Yes, your parents.  They do know some stuff). 

                Don’t be afraid to cry.  It’s always best to acknowledge your feelings.  Sometimes these feelings are ridiculous, so learn to decipher the truth from the lies your insecurities tell you.  (Not being great at that one thing doesn’t negate all the skills you do have.  Embrace who you are and hone the natural ability you have in other areas.  You’ll feel so much better about yourself and you’ll contribute something great to the world that no one else can.)

                Don’t make any important decisions after 10pm.  Things always look worse at night.  Go to bed.  It will be better in the morning.  There are few things that sleep, coffee, and chocolate can’t cure.  If it’s still bad in the morning, call your mom.  She may not always have the answer, but she will make you feel better.  So will your dog (always have a dog).

                Finally, live boldly and love unswervingly.  You won’t regret it.