Monday, June 11, 2012

School's Out Haikus

The school year is done.
Summer camp's not yet begun.
Work. Play. Clean. Cook. Drive. 
---
My two little boys
Run skip jump scream crash whine. (Sigh.)
This is "summer fun"?
---
Can't keep up with work
Can't keep up with kids, house, food
It's time to breathe, and let go.
---
Instead of learning
ABC's and 123's
We found hidden toads!
---
Since last summer's end
I can touch the pool bottom! 
I have learned to swim!



Monday, June 4, 2012

Caring, Tending, Ministering, Mothering


care
Part of Speech:verb
Definition:tend to
Synonyms:attendbaby sit, considerfosterkeep an eye on, keep tabs on, 
look after, mindmind the store, ministermothernursenurture
pay attention to, protectprovide for, ride herd on, sittake pains,
tendtreasurewait on, watchwatch over
Antonyms:disregard, ignoreneglect


My older son, Big Boy, has been sick.  My husband, GEH, has been sick.  Friday, I started feeling sick. Friday night, Big Boy and GEH got worse.  Saturday we all went to the doctor. We all tested positive for strep throat. We all needed rest.  We all needed care.  Tot-Tot started whining, too.  We all needed antibiotics.

I don't know how to handle times like these.  It's a struggle for me to care for people when I need to be cared for myself.  When I must nurse while I need nursing.  When I must mother while I need mothering.  (I should mention that my children don't stop being children when they are sick.  Illness rarely, if ever, slows them down.  Neither germs nor viruses nor bacteria can slow their unstoppable play-drive.  There has never been a napping sick child in my house--not once in 8 years. Childcare must, therefore, continue.  Someone must watch the kids.)

The most painful part about weekends like this past weekend is that I don't know how to do it.  I don't know how to be a nurse and a patient at the same time.  It's an inescapable bind.  And I worry, too, that the bitterness, sense of isolation, and depression I experience in these moments will impact my children.  That I won't be a good enough caretaker of them when I am sick myself, when I am irrationally angry at my husband (and our lame excuses-for-parents) for not being superhuman, for not being able to conquer his own illness and care for everyone so I don't have to.  I hate this bind, and I hate the mood I get in when I am stuck in it.

This weekend, when I was in a rut, an image of Big Boy, caring for his sick stuffed dog, Wheels, came to mind.  Big Boy has had Wheels since he was about a year old.  Wheels is very dear to him.  One day, he was playing a game of tossing Wheels up in the air.  Wheels kept bashing his hard plastic nose on the kitchen floor when he fell, and I warned Big Boy that this could break his nose.  Big Boy persisted in his game, and, sadly, Wheels's nose broke off.


Big Boy tried not to show it, but he was devastated.  I got out the crazy glue, and we put Wheels's nose back on his snout, right where it belonged.  Then we made him a special hospital bed to aid his recovery (and to ensure that he wouldn't be jostled before his nose was fully reattached).

Assuming that Big Boy was feeling ok, I left the room for a while.  When I returned, I saw this note had been left on Wheels's bed.
It says:
"Get better, Wheels.  I was so sad when your nose fell off.  I didn't mean to do that.  I'm sorry. -Big Boy"

Remembering this story this past weekend was a huge help.  It was a good reminder that my care taking has been good enough.  My son somehow knew how to care for his dog.  He knew how to apologize and to wish him well.  And he did it all on his own--no one had instructed him to write this note.  In fact, I didn't even realize Big Boy knew how to send such a loving message!  This all said to me that things have gone well...he has taken in enough of a sense of caring from us that he knows how to give care.  And what more could I want?  What more is there to teach him?

So, when we're all sick, I suppose the best we can do is take turns.  We each get to be patient and nurse, at least for moments.  Thank you for the lesson, Wheels.  You helped me make it through a rough patch.



Friday, May 25, 2012

Childism

If you've read my blog, you probably know that I am a psychologist. I work part-time in my own private practice where I treat a number of parents. I love to work with parents, especially new parents who are raising young children. This group needs a lot of support, and I have always felt that our society does very little for them. Of course, I'm a new(ish) parent myself, so I typically relate to their struggles. Many of the parents I treat in my practice had very difficult childhoods, where they were typically neglected, demeaned, hit, rejected, abused, and/or made into their parents caretakers.  These patients often struggle to rewrite the family script--their goal is often to not do to their children what was done to them.  I cannot tell you how much I admire them for their willingness to look realistically at their own stories in order to change the psychological family trajectory.  (And, let me tell you, they are doing it, and their children are thriving.)

I just read a recently-published book by the late Elisabeth Young-Breuhl called "Childism: Confronting Prejudice against Children." Dr. Young-Breuhl was a psychoanalyst and political scientist with an expertise in prejudice. This combination of careers allowed her to look at her patients through a unique lens--one that simultaneously saw individual psychology and cultural influences (i.e., prejudice). Let me tell you, this is a heartbreaking book. It is heartbreaking (to me, anyhow) because it captures a deep truth.

Here is a crude summary of what Childism says: 
~We live in a culture that historically has not valued children as individuals with the right to be respected and taught.
~We have viewed children as our property, to be treated as we like.
~Many of us have wanted children to meet our own needs, rather than recognizing that children's needs must always come first.
~We, as a society, allow parents to hit their children, in the name of discipline. (If you hit an adult, you can be charged with assault. If you hit a child, we call it "spanking" and say it's for their own good.)
~We have established social systems for "child protection" which further traumatize children who have often already suffered horrible traumas.

The bottom line is this: we don't help parents to help their children. We don't, as a society, openly acknowledge how hard, stressful, frustrating, relentless, and intense it is to raise a child. We don't offer needed support to young families. We allow severe economic disparities to exist, putting tremendous stress and strain on large portions of our population. And when this population has children, we do not step in to help relieve the pressure of parenting under dire conditions.  Then, when the children of these over-stressed parents (who often have untreated trauma histories of their own) start to act-out, we medicate or incarcerate them. We cut spending on education and early intervention, but some states will spend as much as $200,000 per year per child to jail children. Young-Breuhl argues convincingly that we have to stop this shit.

We have to start looking at the cost to our society of not valuing our children. We have historically been so self-absorbed that we haven't see beyond our own generations. We have not looked ahead. We have only looked at now. And this short-sightedness has taken us in the wrong direction. And our kids pay for it. And if things don't change, their kids will pay for it, too.

For the sake of contrast, take a look at a couple of policies in Sweden: 
~Parents get a total of 13 months of paid maternity leave and the father is required to take at least 1 month of it. (There has been a discussion about changing this to 15 months and requiring the father and mother to each take 5 and then split the last 5 as they feel appropriate.)
~Parental leave can be used to take off time for parenting classes before your child is born.
~Parents can save up their maternity leave for more than 5 years (i.e., use it for doctor's appointments, school visit days, etc.).
 ~Daycare cost is based on your family income with a government imposed maximum. (Currently about 1/10th as much as in the U.S.!)
~If you have a new child, your other children get a month of free daycare so you can concentrate on the new one.
~Sweden has outlawed spanking, and has implemented other forms of non-violent discipline (for the greater good of their society).

I know that these ideas may not apply to you.  Certainly, we are all unique individuals with a wide range of values, principles, and histories.  But I encourage you to read this book, to recognize and tolerate its truths, and to work hard to change our national attitude toward children.

And if this is all too depressing, check out The Irreducible Needs of Children by Greenspan and Brazelton instead.  Maybe I'll write about that book next.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Compassion in a Narcissistic World

Lately, I've been struggling with having compassion for others. Although it comes easier some days, many days I find myself in an "I'm right, you're wrong" stance. This happens, of course, when people disagree with me. Or when I'm feeling victimized. Often those times occur simultaneously, which is no surprise.

Luckily, I've discovered that there are ways out of this bind. I'm working on building my skills in this area, so I'm writing about it now (from the bike at the gym!) to organize my own thoughts.

Jessica Benjamin wrote a psychology paper about the "doer / done-to" dynamic that happens in relationships. She emphasizes how easily (in our all-about-me society) we fall into a victim-perpetrator way of being together. You may know what I mean...this kind of togetherness consists of the one-way street of feeling used or attacked or taken for granted by someone else. It's the forgetting that there is another side to every story. That there is more than just you. That the "perpetrator" has a one way-street of his own, and is likely feeling as "done-to" as you are. And, to complicate matters more, in any relationship, there is more than two one-way streets. There are two-way streets and, especially in families, highways! The psychology of how people come together is endlessly complex and multiply-determined. And, given that truth, how are we supposed to get along??

Today, I finally found a minute to organize my kids' clothes (new season, new sizes). The task of organizing hand-me-downs drives me nuts. I hate doing it. Yet it must be done (sigh of resignation). I do this (dreadful) chore in our guest room, where there is a bed to put the clothes on. I haven't been in this room in months, and in my absence, our cat has moved in. And covered the entire bed, including blankets that don't belong there, with her fur. And her puke. Yes. The bed and my collection of cute toddler naptime blankets are crusted in cat puke and fur. So, now my dreadful project just got worse, since I have to clean the bed, too.

Here is a sample of my internal victim monologue: "Who put these blankets here? I'll bet it was GEH. He slept up here once. Can't he tell baby blankets from adult blankets? Doesn't he know the cat would wreck them?? And that stupid cat...I'm so done with her. Can you say lethal injection? And my kids...maybe they did it. Ugh! Why does everyone have to make my life HARDER??!? I am going to go wreck all of their stuff and puke all over everything! And I'm not making dinner ANY MORE!"

This is me being "done-to." Being narcissistic. Driving wrecklessly down my one-way street. The trick in these moments is to flip my perspective. To imagine the tired, sick, delerious state GEH was in when he went to sleep in the guest room with too-small blankets. Or to imagine the fort my kids may have been building in there with the blankets. And (now here is a stretch) to imagine my old-lady cat gagging on furballs (delish). Essentially, the trick is to appreciate many perspectives at once. (While also trying to not lose my own, but that's another blog.)

I do this better some days than others. But when I do, I feel more relaxed and connected to everyone. I feel the relief of intimacy, which is not possible when you're being (mentally) victimized.

What's that song "life is a highway"? That's pretty much it.
Happy cruising.



Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Top 10 Reasons Why I Hate Target

10. Too much diet coke. Not enough diet pepsi.

9. Zero brand loyalty. Where did the jarred Muir Glen organic tomato-herb sauce go? It's been replaced by Giada's big-booby sauce? Seriously??!? Come on. (Eye roll.)

8. I hate how much I hate Target. Because I hate it so much that I avoid going. Then, when dwindling toilet paper supplies finally force me to make a Target run, I have to stay LONGER. Hurt me.

7. Hunger. Thirst. Blood-sugar crash. Need to pee. Sweat. No basic needs can be met when you're surrounded by shit from China and processed food that we really can do without. How does this place make any sense?

6. TARGET-HEAD: State formerly known as air-headed or spaced-out or brain-dead. Time is lost in this state. Then you're sucked in for longer into the Target misery vortex!

5. Existential crisis, stemming from reason number 7. What are we doing to ourselves? How did humanity evolve to such a state where citizens have so little time that we're essentially forced to spend time among masses of artificiality??!? Really? This is what we want for ourselves? Really??!?

4. Cranky cashiers. Hey, listen, I wouldn't like working at Target, either (since I HATE IT THERE). But, I'm doing my best to be kind to you, Cashier Person. I know it can be hard to understand kindness and pleasantries in this unkind, bitter, narcissistic world we inhabit. I feel you. But even a flittering little smile has a resounding impact. Try it. Come on...Just give me a tiny little twitch in the corner of your mouth...you know you want to...

3. So few dads. So many moms. Are we any closer to sex-role equality? Or have we just boxed ourselves into this corner where women now work AND shop? Have we forced ourselves into spaces like Target because we really, truly, don't have time for both work and family-care??!? Let's rethink this. Dads, ya hear me?

2. Plastic bags. You cannot stop the insertion of items into plastic bags at Target. There must be a rule: each plastic, environmentally-toxic item must be wrapped in still more plastic. Even milk jugs go in plastic bags. And don't even think you can ask to skip the bags...remember the cashier in reason 4? She could give a shit about your eco-friendliness.

1. Child abuse. This needs no elaboration. Just stop...please make it stop. Love parents so they won't hurt their kids! Come ON--our society needs to GET WITH THE F'N PROGRAM.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Return to Innocence

Blogging has taken a backseat to life in the past months. But I just re-read my entire blog, and I have a new motivation to resume writing here...in this virtual space--the blogging playroom. And for no other reason than my own gratification...I am glad I have this record of my thoughts, feelings, and struggles. For myself.

The past several months have been intensely hard. But in a good way. I've been struggling through some seriously heavy stuff in my analysis (intensive therapy), and am feeling, finally, freer than I've ever been in my life. Thank f'n god!

What has been so awesome about my newfound emotional freedom, really, is my increased joy in parenting. The happier and less tormented I am, the happier my children seem. These days, my kids are where it's at.

I know I have written this in the past, but my children constantly offer me the chance to heal. As I've been struggling lately, my sons have given me deep emotional comfort and support...by simply being there, wanting, needing, and loving me. Their joyful innocence brings me back to my own. It heals me at my core.

Return to the innocence, baby.
Return to the innocence.


Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Mom Freedom Haikus


Going to L. A.
To spend time with a dear friend.
Drink. Shop. Eat salad.
----
Missing my old self,
I reconnect with old pals,
And then I feel young.
---
Time apart from kids
Is so rejuvenating
And yet I miss them.
---
I was me back then...
And I find I am still me...
Enhanced. With two sons.

:)






Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Neglect?

Lately I have felt like I have not had nearly enough time for my kids. My workload has increased, so my work hours have increased. When time opens up in my schedule, it gets filled instantly--it evaporates before I even know I have it. So, extra time that could go to my kids doesn't seem to make it there. And I am full of maternal guilt and self-recrimination about that.

Recently, I have heard stories about parents who seriously neglect their children. One, sadly, is my sister-in-law, who keeps having horrendous fights with her teenage son. At the root of these fights is the fact that she repeatedly rejects him. And this has been the case for many years. And I can't imagine how enraged this has made him. But she will not look at her own behavior and shift it. Instead, the fighting goes on, and now she says she is "throwing in the towel." On. Her. Own. Kid.

Another example comes from a movie I watched last night, "The Nanny Diaries." I got it out of the library. The librarian told me she loved the movie. OMG. Not me. I HATED HATED HATED it. Seriously. The movie made me feel sick and horrible. If you haven't seen it (don't bother), it's about a nanny who forms a bond with a severely neglected (albeit financially privileged) child. The movie is supposed to be a comical portrayal of rich families in which the parents are so self-absorbed that they have no time for their children. But. It. Wasn't. Funny. The little boy in the movie had absolutely no one looking out for him emotionally. He was treated like an accessory and a conversation piece. He did not exist as a person, except to his nanny, who was eventually fired and forced to leave him precipitously. There was a heartwrenching scene where the boy runs crying after her cab, as she is driven away.

I almost puked. For real.

(This is depressing, I know. Bear with me.)

But, the good thing is that these horror stories remind me constantly how much I treasure my time with my children. And how, even when I'm busy, I am not neglecting or rejecting them. Last night, my husband told me the story of his sister and our nephew while we were out at dinner with our boys. I listened with disgust (at my SIL) and compassion (for my nephew) while my kids jumped in and out of my lap, ordered dessert, joked and laughed, and stroked my hair. While they told me I was their "favorite mommy" and said over and over again that they loved me.

And this morning, after feeling sick half of the night in the aftermath of the nanny movie trauma, my sons created a pretend "hair salon" and spent quite a while styling my early-morning, I-just-woke-up hair. While we laughed together.

I know this is the theme of so many of my blogs...but that is because I think constantly about this discrepancy between how poorly I feel like I perform as a mother...and the reality that I am actually doing a "good enough" job. I am so grateful to my kids for reminding me, again and again, that they are OK. That my distractions and stress and even depressions are not wrecking them. That they are thriving, even at times when I feel like I am not giving them enough of myself.

And...well...PHEW! (so far, any how...)


And a note to my boys: please let me know as well as you can when I'm NOT measuring up. Because I promise I will shift and change and grow to be a better parent to you. Always.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Sometimes I Think This World is Crazy

Sometimes I think this world is crazy.

At these times, when everything and everyone (myself included) seems out-of-control, I long to be with my kids. Because they have it right. They laugh when they're happy. They cry when they're sad. They stomp when they're angry. They don't intentionally manipulate or play mind games. They say what they mean and mean what they say. And they're just totally straightforward about who they are and what they want. They, at ages 4 and 7, know what it means to be human. They know how to treat other people kindly while valuing and remaining true to themselves.

I have to say that I wish I were more like them. And the rest of this (crazy) world, too. I wish we could all be more like my boys.

Lucky for me, I get to spend time with these sage little buddhas every. single. day.

Ahhh....

(Maybe one day they'll teach me a thing or two!)

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Kids For Sale?

I get most of my emails these days through my iPhone. In case you're not familiar with iPhone e-mails, you can opt to have a brief preview of each e-mail show up in your inbox. The preview is formatted like this:

RETURN ADDRESS
SUBJECT LINE
FIRST LINE OF TEXT
SECOND LINE OF TEXT

The other day, I opened my inbox and saw this e-mail preview (from a local parents listserve that I am on):

From: SENDER'S NAME
Subj: 2 CUTE KIDS...
Msg: $5. Interested? Email me and I will send
you a picture.


It had been a bad mommy day. So, I read this and instantly thought:

"Wow! This mom has had an even worse day than I've had... Hers has been so bad, in fact, that she's selling both of her kids for $5 (that's, $2.50 each). Thank god I haven't yet sunk that low! Ha!"

(Insert maniacal laughter here.)

Then I opened the e-mail...and I saw that she was selling 2 cute kids CHAIRS.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Girl Mom with the Flower Tattoo

I got a tattoo when I was 22 years old. Of a tiny pink 5-petal flower. In the (formerly) concave area on my right hip. Easily hidden under even the skimpiest of underwear. What a rebel I was--me with my hidden tattoo!

At the time when I got it, I thought that my right hip was a sexy spot for a tattoo.

Of course, what would become of this tattoo during and after pregnancy was nowhere on my radar screen.

Having a tattoo on my hip felt like a dirty little secret. Like wearing ultra lacy underwear that no one could see but me. (I am laughing HYSTERICALLY as I write this...because it's true that I thought this...and because it's so NOT DIRTY...I was pretty naive at 22!)

Anyhow, after two I-gained-50-pounds-each pregnancies, my tattoo is not as fresh and cute and tight and sexy as it used to be. It's been stretched and distorted, and even though my belly has shrunk back in its own way (IN ITS OWN WAY!), my tattoo has never fully recovered.

And yet, I still love my naive little pseudo-rebel tattoo.

It still feels like a secret. My secret. My former life. The "me" my kids will never know...

Shhh....

Friday, May 27, 2011

Dreams Don't Lie

It seems like I dream the most in the early morning hours. Last night, I was up for a while at 3am for no good reason. I don't remember falling asleep again, but I do remember waking after this dream.

In the dream, I am at the house where I lived with my mother during my last 2 years of high school. I loved this house, and I often dream I am there. (She doesn't live there any more.)

Someone comes to tell me that my little boy, Tot-Tot (age 4) is outside. I look out the window and I see him. It's winter and he is wearing a short-sleeved shirt, with no coat. His face is red and tear-soaked. He has apparently walked a long way, alone in the cold, to find me.

The sight of him, cold and frightened, rips me apart. I rush to him and grab him eagerly up into my arms and he is instantly comforted. I awake with a jolt, yearning for him. And feeling deep gratitude that we are under the same roof.

He wakes soon after I do, and even though it is 5:45 a.m., I am thrilled to hear the sound of his small voice calling me from the next room. I swear, in that moment, that I will be a better mother. I will give him more of myself. I will make him my priority. I will treasure him. I will give him the attention he wants and deserves.

Because I can. And thank god for that.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

All About Me

We live in a narcissistic society.

And that includes me.

I hate to think that I am a narcissist. I don't want to believe that I am full of myself or that I have little room to consider the perspectives of others.

I actually don't know that other people would call me narcissistic. I kind of doubt it...

But sometimes I wonder just how much of our narcissistic society has seeped into me.

I wonder this when I catch myself having days like I've had this week...days when I am CONVINCED that I have it SO MUCH HARDER than everyone else...days when I am so full of SELF-PITY than I cannot even begin to appreciate the goodness of my life...days when no needs on the planet can possibly outweigh MINE.

This is the emotional place where I go when I am overwhelmed...when there is too much to do and too few resources. I start to take it personally, as though the universe has targeted me as its sole victim.

Boy. It's pathetic, isn't it?

This week's self-pity has looked something like this:

-I never have any time to eat a salad! Or even a vegetable! Or even a PIECE OF FRUIT! Woe is me!
(in another state-of-mind, I'd decide to take better care of myself...)

-I cannot keep up with buying groceries, yet, still, everyone in this house has to be FED. By ME. Why only by me??? I do not want to feed another living thing. EVER. AGAIN.
(in another state-of-mind, I'd say that grocery shopping is relaxing...)

-It's spring break season...so lots of families are going away...we are not going away (because vacationing is just not something we can manage...especially not with our MASSIVE TUITION bill)...and since everyone else is going on VACATION, they are asking ME to do their work for them while they are gone. Wait...you get to go on VACATION, and I, who am not going on VACATION, will stay here...and do your WORK for you?? So you can REST? While I add YOUR WORK to MY WORK? F*ck you.
(in another state-of-mind, this might not bother me so much...might not...)

-All of the organizational systems I have worked hard to create in our house have totally MELTED DOWN. Because I haven't been able to monitor them. And because (of course) no one else in this house can do it like I can...which is a massive BURDEN. It's hard to be SUPERIOR to everyone else. Then everything falls on you.
(in another state-of-mind, I'd laugh at my own perfectionism, ignore the piles, and go to sleep.)

-My older son has a motor learning problem called "dyspraxia." (google it) This means that, as fabulous as he is, he is messy. VERY VERY MESSY. And uncoordinated. And massively disorganized. And this drives me NUTS. And I love him and think he is probably the smartest, sweetest child who has ever walked the Earth. But I hate his dyspraxia. And I want it to GO AWAY. Or else I want him to GROW UP FASTER so I won't have to take care of him like he is a MUCH younger child.
(in another state-of-mind, I'd enjoy getting to care for him like I do...and I'd be grateful that dyspraxia is his only problem and that he has such a lovely disposition...)

-TAXES ARE DUE! WHY DO I HAVE TO PAY TAXES??? I MUST BE THE ONLY PERSON ON EARTH WHO HAS TO PAY TAXES!
(In another state-of-mind, I'd be glad we live in America.)

-My cat keeps puking all over the house. And meowing at night. I want to kill her.
(in another state-of-mind, I'd be grateful for the deep relaxation I get whenever I hear her purr.)

-My kid's private school has more days off than I can count! What are we supposed to do for childcare on these days? How can we pay tuition when we have to take time off of work when there's no school?? Doesn't the school get it that we have to WORK to be able to PAY? And WTF with that TWO-WEEK-LONG spring break this year???!?!?
(in another state-of-mind, I'd be grateful we manage to send our boys to good schools, where they get lots of individual attention and still have time for recess...)

-Life is just way too hard on young families! There is not enough support! Things move too fast. Cell phones and i phones and mobile me and e-mail floods are going to drown us and radiate our brains and give us cancer! (which we won't be able to stave off, since, remember, we never have time to eat FRUITS OR VEGETABLES.) WHERE IS THE SUPPORT FOR YOUNG FAMILIES IN THIS COUNTRY? Is everyone trying to kill us via stress and nutrition- deprivation? We need HELP raising the next generation. And we are not getting it. We are screwed as a society. We are going DOWNHILL. Ours will be the last decent generation (assuming that we even are a decent generation).
(in another state of mind, I'd feel proud of the amazing parenting my cohort is doing, in spite of the endless demands on them...somehow, they're managing and our kids are thriving...but I can't see that in this state-of-mind.)

-Every woman I know says she needs a wife. Everyone wants a woman to be attuned to them, to help them, to anticipate and to meet their needs... Do you know any man who has ever whined that he needs a husband?? (I actually said this to GEH yesterday. Good Lord.)
(in another state-of-mind, I'd be grateful for my kind, loving, devoted husband.)

Ahh...the narcissism of self-pity...woe is me is, clearly, all about me.

I hope I escape the vicious loop soon.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Sick Child Haikus

My ear really hurts
So bad I can't sleep at night
Til my mommy comes
-----
Cough, sneeze, sniffle, wheeze
Call my mommy to my bed
Song, pat, head-rub, sleep
-----
We go to a show
So sick I can't stay awake
So I sleep on you
-----
I don't feel so good
So I whine and whine and whine
Please tolerate me
-----
:)

Sunday, March 27, 2011

The Invisible Good Life

My kids are having a way better childhood than my brother and I had.

Before having children, I never fully realized just how depressing my own upbringing was. It wasn't all-trauma-all-the-time, but it wasn't a bed of roses either. There was very little consistency in pretty much every area. Let me paint a brief picture. My parents went through a bitter divorce when I was a toddler and my brother was a preschooler. We lived with my mother, who moved pretty often--every 2 years on average--because, as a single mom, she had a hard time keeping a job (so she was also often broke). We visited my father, who lived a few hours away, every few weeks and we spent summers with him. My parents did not get along. My dad was more financially stable than my mom, but he drank too much and, although he could be tremendous fun, he could also be like living with a volcano--his temper would erupt unexpectedly. Each of my parents has been married and divorced several times. I honestly believe that they did the best they could raising us. This is actually not saying much, though, since I also see them as having a pretty limited capacity. (Please pardon my judgmentalness.)

When I look at the life GEH and I have made for our kids, I am amazed. We've been married for 10 years. We have lived in the same house since I was pregnant with our first son. We have a steady income. We have a clear plan for educating our children at the same school, where they can stay from k through 12 because we don't plan to move. There is always good food in our house. They heat is always on in the winter. The electricity bill gets paid monthly. There is minimal fighting. The friendships my sons are forming could potentially last throughout their lifetimes.

I'm not about to say that our life is perfect. And I am certainly not ever going to even suggest that I am perfect (because I am so flawed that it is not even funny!)...but I do love to pause and to reflect on my children's life. Because their life is good.

Watching them thrive in the world GEH and I have made for them is deeply healing. It's like through them, I get a chance to repair some of my own wounds from childhood. I get to do it better than my parents could. And my boys reap the rewards. And they don't even know it. And that (THAT!) is what makes it incredible.

Their life is so good that they can take it for granted. A men to that.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Poop: It's What's For Dinner

My younger son, Tot-Tot, is totally obsessed with poo-poo. And pee-pee. And poo-poo and pee-pee.

He is a really verbal child. He started talking well before he was a year old. He has an extensive vocabulary. Self-expression is a true talent of his.

But you wouldn't know it.

Because, these days, it's all potty talk. All the time.

If you ask him how he's doing, he'll say, laughing: "POOPY IN YOUR UNDERPANTS!"

If you ask him what he wants for dinner, it's: "Poo-poo. And pee-pee." (And then he might add something about eating it until he gets so sick he dies. Oof.)

If you ask him to share a toy, he might respond: "I'm gonna poop all over your head!"

Behold the 3-year-old mind. (And he's turning 4 in 2 short weeks.)

My older son, Big Boy, never had a poop obsession. So even though potty talk seems totally age-appropriate, I didn't have to endure it with boy number one. Big Boy also had no problems with pooping on the potty, which has been an ongoing issue for Tot-Tot. TT is one of those preschoolers who will only poop in a pull-up. He wants to go standing up. In a corner. Often in the playroom. Or under a table. Sometimes in a restaurant. It's. So. Ew. But I try not to make a big deal of it. And he has agreed that when he is four, he will go on the potty.

God, I hope so.

And maybe...just maybe...then the endless potty talk will stop. Once the poop goes in the potty, maybe then he won't need to be so obsessed with it.

Maybe? (Please don't tell me this is just a boy thing.) (And that I will have to live with this.) (I am dreading the pre-teen years enough already.) (Thanks.)

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Manifesting Mama

A friend of mine recently sent me this link to an article about a woman who, for years, visualized winning the lottery for $112 million dollars. She pictured everything, down to the shirt she would be wearing.

Then she won the lottery. For $112 million. (While wearing the shirt.)

Although this story is pretty amazing, I can't say that I am 100% convinced that people have the ability to "manifest" their futures by their own faith and conviction. But, then again, I can't say I've ever tried it. Have you? Have you ever been completely convinced, beyond a doubt, that a particular future yearned-for event would happen? And then it did?

In spite of all my endless whining, complaining, and over-analyzing of everything, I have to say that my life is actually pretty f'n good. And I do believe that I got to this point in my life because of my own drive, determination, and will-power. I'd even say that at critical moments, I had premonition-like experiences (like I had a feeling, shortly before I met my husband, that I was on the verge of finding the right man for me...I started the break-up process with my boyfriend at the time based on that feeling...then I met my husband).

But I wouldn't go so far as to say that I have made the life I want by visualizing it. I would say, though, that I have generally believed in myself and that this faith has gotten me pretty far. Lately I have been struggling with having faith in myself and my abilities...and I have begun to wonder if the problem now is that I just don't know what I want for myself. What I would manifest if I had that power?

So, I would like to try it. I'd like to do a visualization experiment. Not to test the powers of the universe, but as an exercise in working through how I imagine my future.

The problem is that I have no idea what I actually want beyond what I already have. I don't know what I want the future to look like. Maybe it never occurred to me to visualize my life beyond this current point. I never imagined what would come after getting married, having children, and running a psychology practice. And now I have achieved all of that.

So what next?

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Trusting Myself

Wow. Really? May 10th? 2010? That was my last post?
Jesus.
What happened to me?
It's hard to say. Or, rather, it's hard to sum up. I guess the bottom line is that life has been kicking my ass...and I am finally starting to kick back.

One of my patients recently gave me a book called "Trusting Yourself."

I love it when people give me unexpected books...usually there is some important message in it for me. And when a patient gives me a book, it is even more meaningful--since they are often also handing me a piece of themselves.

What is especially cool about reading this book is that I can see why I needed to read it. For me. And for my patient. I'm learning about us both.

I am someone who has always felt self-assured. But recently--over the past few years I guess, and especially the past year--I have felt more self-doubt than before. Doubt about myself as a mother and a wife. Doubt about myself as a friend. Doubt about myself as a professional. Doubt about myself in just about any area... This kind of self-doubt can become toxic...it can lead to self-pity, which is something I hate, but often find great comfort in.

So the book, "Trusting Yourself," was a timely gift. Because, really, trusting ourselves is our main challenge in life. Trust that you know what is right for you. Trust that you have what it takes to get where you need to go. Trust that you will be ok. Trust that you are good, through-and-through. And when you fail, trust that you will learn and will do better the next time.

If we could trust ourselves, in all areas of our lives, just imagine how free we would feel. Trusting ourselves, and accepting ourselves where we are, without judgment. If you can do that for yourself, you will be able to do it for others too. And life will be better for everyone.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Where My Kids At?

Have you seen this funny ad on youtube.com?:



Of all the hysterical Sienna video clips on youtube--this one is my favorite!

I've been trying to figure out what I like about it...here's what I've come up with:

-I can totally relate to the frustration of HOW LONG IT TAKES TO RAISE KIDS.

-I FREQUENTLY wish my kids would GROW UP and HELP OUT.

-I have a hard time playing with my kids...I have many "that's all I got" moments.

-It cracks me up that he's so bitter, talking about the gauntlet of children and toys when there's really not anything dangerous in his path...it just highlights the truth of how parenthood can feel HARDER than maybe it really is.

-I really appreciate all of this guys disavowed anger and frustration...he loves his kids, but the bitterness (ahh...the bitterness...) is ever-present.

-This clip captures the essence of how I (we?) often wish kids would be little adults...and, if we're honest with ourselves...we have to realize that the problem is not really the kids, but our own impatience and narcissism...and, believe me, I have it, too!

-And, really, it just sucks that kids mess with your stuff. Like when else in life do people get to mess with your stuff and you have to just TOLERATE IT?

-I also own a minivan...and I love it...although it decidedly does NOT make me feel like a hottie!

:)

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Tot-Tot Gets Moral

My husband desperately needed a break today, so I decided to take the kids out for a Sunday afternoon on my own. I actually love these kinds of outing with them; solo-parent-with-no-agenda afternoons rock. I let them pick where they wanted to go, and out-of-the-blue, my 3-year-old, Tot-Tot, decides that today is the day for his first-ever carousel ride. So, off to the mall we go...me and 2 happy, excited boys...and we buy TICKETS (tickets are apparently VERY exciting!) and hitch a ride...






And after 3 consecutive rides, I was completely queasy and convinced the kids to get an early dinner...

--skip to bedtime---

As I was putting Tot-Tot to bed tonight, he was full of questions about the merry-go-round. But he wasn't interested in things like the mechanics of it, like his older brother would have been at this age, he was interested in...the tickets! He asked me over-and-over-again about the tickets...it went something like this:

tt: Mommy, why do you need a ticket to go on the carousel?
me: to show that you paid for the ride
tt: you have to pay for the ride?
me: yes, the ticket shows that you paid for the ride
tt: but why do you have to pay?
me: because it costs money for them to run the carousel...so everyone has to pay for that
tt: but what if you got on the ride WITHOUT a ticket???
me: you can't get on the ride without a ticket
tt: (excited) but what if you DID?! What if you got on the ride anyhow, without a ticket??!?
me: then they would take you off of the ride, because you have to have a ticket
tt: (more excited) but what if you STILL GOT ON THE RIDE WITH NO TICKET?!?
me: you can't ride without a ticket, it's not allowed
tt: BUT WHAT IF A KID GETS ON THE RIDE WITH NO TICKET?????
me: (exasperated) Then you'd get a free ride. But it would be naughty.
tt: And then the POLICE WOULD COME! And they would TAKE YOU TO JAIL! And they would GO AWAY and LEAVE YOU THERE and you'd have to STAY IN JAIL!
me: Well, I don't know. If that happened mommy would come get you.
tt: So you should just get a ticket and not go to jail.
me: Right.

What would Kohlberg say?