To Tell the Truth

The only way to pass the "parenting test" is with heaps of humility, honesty,and humor.  

That's what I said when I first started this blog. This past month though, I haven't followed that rule very well. In all kinds of big and small ways, good news and sad, I've screened my true thoughts. For example, I had some really great news this month but felt a little weird every time I would share it, especially if I was talking to another parent.. The news was that my son made it to the next round of an intense scholarship interviewing process - yay! He went through a  gamut of interactive games, leadership tests, improv exercises and impromptu essay writing with about 100 other high school seniors. After the group interview was all done, they cut half of the applicants. Instead of being cut, my son got the email that told him he was invited for a one-on-one interview. The hoped for prize when all is said and done, is a four year scholarship for college. It's nerve wracking and exciting and I'm so incredibly proud and shocked at the ways he's putting himself out there in the world and it's all just swirling in my own little head. How do we celebrate and brag without making someone else feel like crap?

And there's plenty enough of those feeling like crap moments.  Worrying about why our kids are anxious, prone to wild temper tantrums, chronically constipated, or emotionally distant, fills the secret places of our thoughts. One layer below our concerns for our kids is the darker place where we assume that we've messed them up somehow. We look at the latest Facebook updates, where only good news seems to be shared, and wonder if we would have any friends at all if they knew our true thoughts and colossal mistakes. There are layers of parenting silence. We start by talking about our perfect, precious babies instead of the crazy anatomical reorienting that our body is going through after childbirth. The silence continues and hovers over the changes in our relationships.  We stay silent when things are bad, keeping the self-doubt, shame, and feelings of failure under wraps. Telling the hard truth though, is the key to releasing all that crap. If you want to test this and have a real catharsis or just a good-pee-in-your-pants laugh, you can unload your truth at Scary Mommy, a blog that also serves as a confessional for the real deal stuff of our lives.

Bragging is just fine. So is crying and screaming and fretting and laughing. Humility, humor, honesty. We can't possibly know it all. We can't take ourselves too seriously. We only get support for the things that people know about. Go to the "scary mommy confessional" and let it out.

It' A New Day

ReBoot (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It's the last day of August.  At the close of this weekend, the school year will start and we will be in our more structured routine.  The fall almost feels like the new year. It's my time to make a list of intentions, the things that I know will help me live a happier and more productive life.  September is my reboot month.

New school supplies and clothes means we need to go through the closets and donate all those things that my monster men have grown out of.  We'll sit down and organize our schedules, making sure that homework, dinner and chores all have a slot.  We'll become more mindful about planning for fun stuff to happen.  We'll get the doctor's appointments taken care of and of course the haircuts.  September is our fresh start. 

For me, my fresh start is going to include a renewed focus on some self-care.  With a little more exercise in my life, I'm sure the endorphins will kick in and my writing will come more easily.  If I'm having more structure and intention maybe I'll even pack a lunch and water bottle for work. With all of the focused choices I might even start sending birthday cards and thank you notes again. It's a new day, everything is possible.

Caring Enough to Take Care

Bowl of Chocolate Ice Cream! (Photo credit: StephenMitchell)

My morning meditation book talked about self-care today.  Hah!  How timely seeing how I spent the entire weekend in a bath of self-loathing and personal disappointment.  An internal message loop ran, "Stop eating junk.  Go to the gym, you're a slug."  A string of other negative assessments ran rampant. I would listen to the voice inside for a little while and then go to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream.

On  days like that, where I just can't seem to muster enough energy to tackle my "to do" list or prepare any food that requires more creativity than the flip of my wrist as I open a prepared package, I start to think seriously about our primal nature.  Am I more than just a clump of cells interacting with the lunar cycles? I don't know.

Stuart Smalley (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In those moments it feels like I have very little control over myself, my surroundings, or my larger world.  I lose sight of my personal power.  A ton of things can be going wrong, I can be in a general malaise, or worse case scenario, the zombie apocalypse could finally arrive and I will still have the power to care for myself.  It may not be all the things that I need at the moment but I can do some thing.  Getting out of my head counts as a "thing".  Talking to a friend or doing something that I enjoy counts as a "thing".  Eating a bowl of ice cream can be a "thing", as long as you don't beat yourself up about it afterwards.  We all know the bottom line is that we have to care enough to take care of ourselves.  We have to care less about what we "should" be doing/feeling/accomplishing and care more about ourselves.  I know this is probably sounding more and more like a Stuart Smalley seminar ("I'm good enough.  I'm smart enough.  And gosh darn it, people like me!").  Well gosh darn it, people do like me and yet I still need the reminder to take care and be nice to myself.  It's as important as all the other things on my "to do" list.

Great Expectations

Eating together with my family, around a beautifully set table with flowers and cloth napkins (more ecofriendly), politely passing well-balanced dishes of organic, creatively and exquisitely seasoned fare, as we share the poignant moments of our lives mixed with humorous anecdotes about the day, and ending the meal with a heartfelt, soul sharing moment, as I wash dishes with my husband - has never happened a day in my life.  All those expectations have never been realized in the span of one meal.  I've occasionally served some good food.  Important conversations have happened and flowers have been placed in a vase.  But ALL of my expectations of what a happy, healthy, loving, deeply evolved family looks like have never been met completely.

Pizza, Frozen food (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My reality this week (and many weeks) was more like non-organic, frozen pizza on a paper plate, sitting in front of a Netflix offering with each of us silently staring at the screen. 

I could bemoan this confession and even cite it as proof that I have in fact failed the non-existent parent test.  I choose instead to highlight the one super great fact of my special  frozen pizza dinner - we were all together.  My 13 and 15 year old sons were watching TV in the same room, with me.  You have to look for your victories sometimes.

I still have great expectations. Thankfully the one major expectation I have been able to honor is looking for the good in my kids - focusing on their good qualities, their strengths.  Now I just need to remember to do that for myself.