You're Not Alone

I didn’t write this post… in fact, I don’t even know the author, but I thought it was so good that it had to be shared.  If you’d like to visit the website from where I pulled this article, click HERE. 

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

ARTICLE BEGINS BELOW

I am in a season of my life right now where I feel bone-tired almost all of the time. Ragged, how-am-I-going-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-day, eyes burning exhausted.

I have three boys ages 5 and under. I'm not complaining about that. Well, maybe I am a little bit. But I know that there are people who would give anything for a house full of laughter and chaos. I was that person for years and years; the pain of infertility is stabbing and throbbing and constant. I remember allowing hope to rise and then seeing it crash all around me, month after month, for seven years. I am working on another post about infertility that will come at a later date.

But right now, in my actual life, I have three boys ages 5 and under. There are many moments where they are utterly delightful, like last week, when Isaac told my sister-in-law that, "My daddy has hair all over." Or when Elijah put a green washcloth over his chin and cheeks, and proudly declared, "Daddy! I have a beard just like you!" Or when Ben sneaks downstairs in the morning before the other boys do, smiles at me, and says, "Daddy and Ben time."

But there are also many moments when I have no idea how I'm going to make it until their bedtime. The constant demands, the needs and the fighting are fingernails across the chalkboard every single day.

One of my children is for sure going to be the next Steve Jobs. I now have immense empathy for his parents. He has a precise vision of what he wants -- exactly that way and no other way. Sometimes, it's the way his plate needs to be centered exactly to his chair, or how his socks go on, or exactly how the picture of the pink dolphin needs to look -- with brave eyes, not sad eyes, daddy! He is a laser beam, and he is not satisfied until it's exactly right.

I have to confess that sometimes, the sound of his screaming drives me to hide in the pantry. And I will neither confirm nor deny that while in there, I compulsively eat chips and/or dark chocolate.

There are people who say this to me:

"You should enjoy every moment now! They grow up so fast!"

I usually smile and give some sort of guffaw, but inside, I secretly want to hold them under water. Just for a minute or so. Just until they panic a little.

If you have friends with small children -- especially if your children are now teenagers or if they're grown -- please vow to me right now that you will never say this to them. Not because it's not true, but because it really, really doesn't help.

We know it's true that they grow up too fast. But feeling like I have to enjoy every moment doesn't feel like a gift, it feels like one more thing that is impossible to do, and right now, that list is way too long. Not every moment is enjoyable as a parent; it wasn't for you, and it isn't for me. You just have obviously forgotten. I can forgive you for that. But if you tell me to enjoy every moment one more time, I will need to break up with you.

If you are a parent of small children, you know that there are moments of spectacular delight, and you can't believe you get to be around these little people. But let me be the one who says the following things out loud:

You are not a terrible parent if you can't figure out a way for your children to eat as healthy as your friend's children do. She's obviously using a bizarre and probably illegal form of hypnotism.

You are not a terrible parent if you yell at your kids sometimes. You have little dictators living in your house. If someone else talked to you like that, they'd be put in prison.

You are not a terrible parent if you can't figure out how to calmly give them appropriate consequences in real time for every single act of terrorism that they so creatively devise.

You are not a terrible parent if you'd rather be at work.

You are not a terrible parent if you just can't wait for them to go to bed.

You are not a terrible parent if the sound of their voices sometimes makes you want to drink and never stop.

You're not a terrible parent.

You're an actual parent with limits. You cannot do it all. We all need to admit that one of the casualties specific to our information saturated culture is that we have sky-scraper standards for parenting, where we feel like we're failing horribly if we feed our children chicken nuggets and we let them watch TV in the morning.

One of the reasons we are so exhausted is that we are oversaturated with information about the kind of parents we should be.

So, maybe it's time to stop reading the blogs that tell you how to raise the next president who knows how to read when she's 3 and who cooks, not only eats, her vegetables. Maybe it's time to embrace being the kind of parent who says sorry when you yell. Who models what it's like to take time for yourself. Who asks God to help you to be a better version of the person that you actually are, not for more strength to be an ideal parent.

So, the next time you see your friends with small children with that foggy and desperate look in their eyes, order them a pizza and send it to their house that night. Volunteer to take their kids for a few hours so they can be alone in their own house and have sex when they're not so tired, for heaven's sake. Put your hand on their shoulder, look them in the eyes, and tell them that they're doing a good job. Just don't freak out if they start weeping uncontrollably. Most of the time, we feel like we're botching the whole deal and our kids will turn into horrible criminals who hate us and will never want to be around us when they're older.

You're bone-tired. I'm not sure when it's going to get better. Today might be a good day or it might be the day that you lost it in a way that surprised even yourself.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You're not alone.

 

How Times Have Changed

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and it got me thinking. When I was single, Valentine’s Day was all about having a date for the evening, planning out what I would wear, painting my nails pink or red, anxiously awaiting his arrival, going out to dinner, the goodnight kiss, etc.  The whole day was spent dreaming of a romantically magical evening. 

Twenty years and two kids later… Valentine’s Day means something entirely different.  Now, it’s about making shoe boxes into the perfect Valentine receptacle, about purchasing Valentines for each child’s friends and classmates, and about buying teacher gifts and making treats for classroom parties.  By the time the day is done, I’m too tired to even think about a romantically magical evening… besides, finding a babysitter for Valentine’s Day is virtually impossible.  All the babysitters are young and single and busy preparing for their magical evenings.

By the time we get the kids to bed, my husband and I will look at each other and exhale.  We’ll both be beat.  We’ll open a bottle of red wine, exchange cards and snuggle on the couch to a re-run of Star Trek: The Next Generation.  Twenty years ago I would have said this was lame…but now, it feels blissfully wonderful.

 

And if we stay awake long enough... we enjoy a lot more than just a goodnight kiss.  :)

 

Mean Mutant Monsters

We have a mean girl problem at our school; and it sucks.

I could stop with just that sentence and you would have a good gauge on where my heart stands; but, being the writer and the angry mom, I won’t.  It’s amazing how society has evolved into a place where bullies are allowed to take over, not because people deem bullying acceptable; but because laws have tied their hands from doing anything to stop it. Parents are afraid to spank, for someone might call Social Services and their children will be taken away.  Teachers, Principals and Counselors are afraid to discipline, for they might lose their jobs.  Laws to protect children have been so mis-used and even abused, that instead of protecting kids they have created mutant little monsters.

Yes, I said it.  Mean kids are mutant monsters.  

When I was in school, if someone was consistently mean, they got a fist in the face and that pretty much stopped their negativity.  There’s nothing like being knocked on your ass to give you a new perspective on how you’d like to live your life.  Alas, those were the olden days when bullies didn’t run rampant because kids were allowed to take action without the fear of being kicked out of school.  If a mean kid punched a nice kid, the nice kid wasn’t expected to shut up and take it.  He or she hit back.  The only way to stop a bully is to flatten them. Period. If you fight back they will think twice before ever touching you again.

 

Today, bullying comes in all shapes and sizes; physical bullying being  the least offender.  If a kid leaves bruises on another kid, there is evidence of wrongdoing.  Instead, they bruise the inside.  It's harder to prove and the sting never goes away.  Emotional bullying causes the most damage in a child and it's done verbally, via texting and social media.

 

Kids can’t fight back now.  They’re supposed to take the abuse, turn the other cheek, kill with kindness, blah, blah, blah.  That’s all fine and good in LaLa Land, but that doesn’t work in the real world.  Kids are being emotionally abused and verbally bashed every day and the message we, adults, are sending is that there is nothing they can do about it.

This ends here!

 

There IS something they can do.  Fight fire with fire.  When that mean girl calls you a bitch or a stupid, fat, loser and you’ve asked them several times to stop; it is time to take action.  No, you’re not allowed to rip their hair from their scalp.  No, you’re not allowed to punch them in the mouth or hurl them down the hall like a hockey puck.  Those were the good ‘ol days.  Now, you must become as manipulative and cunning as the mean girls.  No, you must become MORE crafty.

How?

Fight fire with fire.  Take their ammo and use it against them.  If they call you names and then lie about doing it, don’t get angry; get even.  Here’s an example:  When that mean girl is alone, walk up and whisper quietly in her ear.  “If you say bad things about me again, I’m going to teach you how to shut your mouth.”  Then smile and walk away.  When she tells someone, DENY it.  Do the same thing to her that she is doing to you.

“Oh No!” People are gasping.  “That’s revenge!  We shouldn’t teach our children to take revenge!” 

No, by all means, let’s teach our children to lie down like doormats so that the mutant monsters can run the world.  No, frickin’ thank you!

 

It’s not revenge…it's taking action... it’s giving the bully a taste of her own medicine.  Maybe then she’ll realize how unfair her actions are and how frustrating it is to be telling the truth about what someone said to you and have no one believe you because an adult didn’t witness the interaction. Give her a spoonful of her own medicine and let it burn as it goes down. 

Key:  Just don’t do it at school or if you do, make sure you are not seen or heard by an adult.  Ironically, the laws will protect you just as they protect the bully.

Is this good advice to give our kids?   Well, it isn’t what I ever intended to teach; but, then again, the laws have forced my hand. 

There are four mean girls at our school, tormenting at least three of the girls in the sixth grade.  They call them fat, stupid, losers and bitches.  They spread lies about them and when confronted by an adult figure, they lie and deny having said anything at all.  Despite the fact that SEVERAL other students have witnessed these things being said, have had them said directly to them and have overheard them being said in the hallway…. nothing can be done.  The laws have tied the hands of the school administration.  The laws have created the mutant monsters and have allowed them to thrive in our school systems.

For the past two years, my daughter has been killing with kindness and turning the other cheek; but we’re done with that now.  For the past two years I have been teaching her to ignore the bullies, to be kind, and to be friendly.  But, I was wrong.  That method doesn’t work.  It only facilitates more emotional abuse.

Our torches are lit.  We are locked and loaded.  We are waging war against bullying behavior and the laws that allow it.  This ends now!

Why?

Because emotional bullying destroys kids from the inside out.  It kills their self-confidence, it drowns them in humiliation, it murders their self-esteem and it forces them into depression.  Isn’t being a kid hard enough without being bullied?  They’re going through physical and hormonal changes, they’re feeling awkward as it is without being beaten up every day.  A child can only take so much before they reach their breaking point.

How many teen suicides are we going to silently take?   How many school shootings are we going to sit back and watch?   How many beatings are we going to silently let happen?  How many kids are we going to allow to drown themselves in drugs just to escape a reality that we refuse to help them fix?

 

I’m a mom and I’m not going to sit back and silently watch while my kid is pushed to a breaking point.  I won’t.  Laws were put in place to protect children from being abused.  We have twisted those laws to allow children to run over each other and over their parents, teachers and others in leadership positions.  This must be repaired.  Mutant monsters must be stopped.  It ends here!

 

 

 

 

 

Drooping Eyelids

Don’t you hate it when you can’t keep your eyes open?  Literally!  I was driving my son to practice and my daughter to rehearsal and my eyes wanted to roll back in my head while I was behind the wheel.  Upon arriving back home, I brewed a full pot of coffee and began slurping it down; so picking up the kids after their activities would be a safer drive…and it was.  Thank God for coffee!

There’s nothing scarier than the prospect of crashing with your kids in the car. 

I remember one time I actually fell asleep behind the wheel.  My children were little and we had recently moved to Kansas City.  I was experiencing post-partum depression and was medicated, not to mention I was exhausted from the move.  It was around three o’clock and the afternoon sun was bright and hot.  I was on my way home from the grocery store; and both kids were strapped into their car seats in the back of my suburban.  I turned onto a four lane street with a large, grassy median and the sun shone directly into my eyes. I blinked slowly and tried to keep my eyelids from drooping further.  The next thing I remember, the driver’s side tires were up over the median and I was heading for a tree.  I jolted awake and yanked the wheel to the right, missing the tree and sending my car back into the street. Thankfully, there were no other cars on the road at the time.  My heart was racing with adrenaline infused fear, as I glanced back at my kids.  They were sleeping peacefully, just like I had been a split second earlier.

I don't know what jolted me awake in the nick of time, but I give credit to God, who probably sent my guardian angel to shake me back to coherency.  It took me several weeks before I trusted myself to drive with the kids in the car again.  To say the experience shook me, is putting it lightly.  I was horrified.  It made me realize how quickly an accident can happen and that in one moment life can be snatched away. 

The moral of the story is.... I don't feel bad about my coffee addiction.  The way I see it, it just might save my life.  ~