sistermama gets real

The Bliss Filled Mama

My long time forum and blogosphere friend Kathy has just published her first ebook, The Bliss Filled Mama: Self-Care for Soulful Mothering.  She is a breeze of joyful, kooky inspiration on many a dry day of mine.  If you read her blog, Bliss Beyond Naptime, you probably feel the same way.

The concept of being "bliss filled" actually makes me feel a little uncomfortable, because I am not, by nature, a blissful person.  "Contented" is kind of more my type of thing and exuberance doesn't come naturally to me. Maybe I can work my way around to aiming for bliss...  Anyway, part of becoming a Bliss Filled Mama is identifying those things that recharge your batteries.  Here are some of mine:

 

-Laughing hysterically with my sister or friend

-Knitting, alone or with a companion

-Reading and posting at the Homespun Waldorf forum

-Making my neice laugh

-Taking a long "reading" bath

-Reading on my couch in the afternoon when the light comes through the window just right

-Being up early in the morning and miraculously no one else is up yet

 

Kathy is giving away a free copy of her ebook.  Simply share, in the comments below, one way you take care of yourself and you'll be entered.  Comments will stay open until Wednesday night, and I'll announce and email a winner on Thursday.   

 

The Spell Has Broken

The last few days have been really rotten.  The type of rotten where it's hard to tell where my rotten starts and the kids' rotten ends.  The hardest thing for me about these types of days is the knowledge from personal experience that if I could just pull myself the hell out of my funk, my better attitude could turn everything around.  Nothing like having a crappy time and knowing that no matter who started it, it's your fault it isn't better yet.  During lunch yesterday something happened, I can't even remember now but if it was a meal time it was probably Lucy saying something insulting about the food in front of her or complaining because there was a possibility someone in the world may have gotten more of something than her.  I had just had it.  The school morning was not good - it included a bee flying into Jack's rain boot and him screaming about how he was going to kill all the bees in the world and never go back outside. Plus all my school planning felt rote and forced.  Back to lunch, I picked up my bowl of whatever, left the table and sat on our back staircase by myself.  Then I proceeded to sob.  During which time I prayed desperately to God to open my heart, stop the vitriol that wanted to pour out and also, please, stop me from wanting to put my kids on the first school bus that drove by.  Then I cried some more because memories of my mom crying hysterically are not a high point of my childhood. 

The rest of the day was pretty much downhill from there, broken up by a playground trip to meet friends that probably shouldn't have happened based on behavior earlier in the day, but I really needed another mother's company.  I felt heavy the rest of the day with the weight of sadness.  How could my feelings change so quickly?  Last week I was thanking God that I was lucky enough to be at home doing all the things that on this day felt like a burden.  I took this sadness into sleep with me and woke with an open and healing heart.  And the urge to answer everything I came across today with kindness and love.  Novel concept, right?  That I should respond to my own children with kindness and love?  Why is my first reaction to respond to them as a child would? Why does it feel good to lash out with sharp words and assumptions of guilt, when I know that immediately afterwards I will feel bad?  

I had to consciously choose kind responses this morning, but as the day wore on I actually felt like responding in that way, and the mood in the house palpably lightened.  Damn, right back to me being the weather maker around here.  I've accepted that that is what it is, but when will this learning stick?  I feel like I've already done this lesson hundreds of times. 

Parental Temper Tantrum

Today someone in my house threw a temper tantrum and ran crying out of the house.  Yeah, that was me.  Then to really drive the point home I got in the car and drove away.  (There were two other adults in the house).  How calm and rational of me, right?  But, I have really had it with the squabling and back talk.  And I'm really at a loss about what to do.  I'm of two minds with it (if you don't count shipping them to their aunt's for the rest of the summer). 

Mainly I want to PUNISH them until they learn the error of their ways and are transformed into children who never fight and answer every request I make with "yes, mam".  We have never used much punishment, because I don't think it actually works.  I can remember being punished as a child and just thinking, "You can only do that because you are bigger than me!  I won't let you catch me next time."  But still, being at a loss, I wonder if I can punish them into submission?  But would I want that?  Do I want to drive the behaviour underground so it turns into evil glares and meanness muttered under the breath? 

My other thought is that really, the fighting is bothering me, not them and the rudeness is also directed at me.  Can I learn to let the fighting roll off of me and not engage in it?  Can I recognize that they must be getting something out of my reaction to their rudeness?  They are unfailingly respectful to other people and I can and do send them out into the world without an ounce of concern about how they will behave.  Do I trust that image of them, knowing that this too shall pass? 

Or, back to my first thought (punish, punish, PUNISH!) do I demand that they speak to me respectfully?  Can I demand this?  Can I learn instead to disengage?  Honestly, I don't know if I can do either.

Point me somewhere, people.  A book, a theory, does anything exist?

I love this girl

Lucy has a wild sense of style.  Our little city has a very recognizable woman.  I've always assumed she was homeless, but don't know for sure.  I've seen her many places, often arguing with people, etc.  She wears really outrageous outfits - lots of animal prints, feathers, I think maybe those carnival roach clips in her hair.  We saw her at the library last weekend and Lucy whispered to me, "Mommy, isn't she BEAUTIFUL!"  My jeans and black tshirts must be really disappointing.

Warrior princess in tree pose.

The girl can be pretty kick ass.  She yells at neighborhood bullies if they try to mess with her brother.  She attacks that same brother even though he is double her size.  She loves so intensely that she grits her teeth when she hugs.  She sings little made up songs when she thinks no one else is listening.

And yet there is this need in her that I worry about filling.  Because, good Lord, does she ever need me.  Some phases are better than others, but I feel overwhelmed by it right now.  I weaned her last year thinking that it might help abate this some.  Nope, not so much.  I worry that somehow she knows that I didn't want to be pregnant with her and that it took weeks (months?) for me to bond with her.  I took good care of her (I take really good care of other people's babies).  I want to fill up this need I sense with great big buckets of love.

Pecked to death by ducks

I think it may be possible to get post traumatic stress from parenting.   I am at least shell shocked.  Jack woke up angry at me.  Full blown all day tantruming about the smallest little things, included stomping, slamming doors, etc.  Lucy has been crying at me all week, today being the peak of it.  The two of them together?  Absolutely combustible.   I feel jittery still, even though they are both asleep.  I am so over being needed.  I actually said, "freaking" to them about something to day, something along the lines of , "Just let me freaking do what I'm freaking trying to do!!!!" like one of those moms.  You know the moms you overhear in the parking lot or public bathroom and think, "Oh my, what an awful way to treat/speak to your child", full of righteous indignation until it is you speaking to your child like that and you think, "Oh, shit.  I'm one of those moms."

Today was a perfect example of how my days can go so horribly wrong.  I for the life of me cannot figure out how other mamas manage to have these days with lovely rhythm, no interruptions, no surprises.  I worked all day Tuesday, but didn't have my van as it was in the shop.  So John had to come pick me up at 6:30 with the kids.  They were late, very late, and I managed to forget the huge year end packet I was supposed to deliver to the auditor.  Wednesday was a snow day, yesterday John's birthday, so even though I had promised myself we would stay home today, even wrote "home" on the top of the day in my calendar, we had to drive to Albany to get the packet and deliver it.  Another home day shot.  Promised the kids we could go to the state museum in Albany since they already spent almost 6 hours in the car yesterday.  Got to work, someone else had already mailed the packet.  Super!  I appreciate it, really I do, since now it is done, but I have now just driven 30 minutes for nothing and still have to follow through on the museum .   Then I park in the wrong spot at the museum and plunk $3 in a meter that I will have to abandon 20 minutes later.  After we leave the museum I have to drop off milk and yogurt at my mom's.  By the time we leave it is 5:30, no dinner even planned for at home, so it is through Burger King.   And my kids already ate hot dogs for lunch.  And my house is a mess.  And I'm in a seriously crappy mood.  And today was my Monday because John will work about 48 hours  over the next four days.  And I haven't finished my birds that have to be mailed tomorrow.   And we underpaid our income taxes last year.  And I haven't won the lottery yet (or bought a ticket).  And blah, blah, blah.

End of week rant

Yesterday, as we were making applesauce so that we could bake these yummy muffins posted by Grace I sucummed to that blogging sickness known as "Stop!  Let me get the camera!  I can blog this tonight!" Only to find that yet another digital camera has died an early death in my home.  The shutter/telescoping part stopped working and everything is superfuzzy.  Jack obviously took the last pictures on the camera. 

 

 

So now the dilemma is, do I use my mad money from John (who realized our most liquid asset by winning his fantasy football league) to buy a newish camera or the car stereo I desperately need to replace the AM radio my current car stereo has become?  I think that the stereo has got to win out,  because really, I don't think I can listen to anymore Bill O'Reilly.  I do feel irritated though, that it isn't really an option to have any of this stuff repaired when it breaks.  I think it usually ends up costing more than it would to just replace it.  I'm sick of our disposable culture and sad this morning that Lucy said, "Well, we can just buy another one." 

My house is a disaster, really a disaster.  How can it all go so wrong so quickly?  Two days ago it was fine now there is popcorn on the ground from one end of it to another.  I have a big family lunch tomorrow for my sis's birthday.  I'm not sure if Jack even has any clean underwear (or if I do for that matter).  We don't have a dryer because we don't have a dryer hookup, so we have to wash everything here and then take it to the laundromat to dry.  Oh well, I can always buy clean undies tomorrow at Family Dollar if needed, it won't be the first time!  We picked up McDonald's for dinner because not only could I not face cooking tonight, there is not one single clean pot, bowl or spoon, all being kind of essential for a pot of oatmeal.  I just put both kids in the top bunk with a basketful of books with the, I know, totally delusional idea that they will quietly look at books and fall asleep together.  I think I might finally take a shower and drown out the potty talk.  As soon as John gets home I'm getting into bed with him, the laptop and half of the 4th season of Battlestar Galactica.  Ahhhhh, good times.

On a totally unrelated note, I read somewhere yesterday about trying to treat each person you come into contact with as if they might be dead by midnight.  Sounds kind of cheesy, but I'm finding it is actually a pretty quick way to reel myself in from acting like a jerk.

Haranguer

Man, I am tired of feeling like a bitchy nag.  I nag my kids, I nag my husband... I feel like a grumpy old lady.  While I was cleaning in the kitchen this morning, I was thinking about this.  Really trying to analyze why I spent lots of my time barking orders, do this, don't do that, blah, blah, blah.   Really, I am so tired of hearing my own self speak.  Then I unconsciously interrupted my introspection to harangue Jack about the way he was washing the dishes.  I mean, I had to stop thinking about why I was being such a bitchy nag, so that I could go be a bitchy nag.  Ridiculous, right?

Later in the day, Lucy said to me, "Mommy, when you don't do what I want you to do, I feel like you are an evil witch."  Yep,  you just about summed that up, sister.  I had to try hard not to laugh out loud.