Gabriel is watching Sesame Street while I get some desk work done. Burt and Usher, as in Usher, are discussing the word unique.
My son is disgruntled that neither Elmo nor Big Bird appear on his screen. I, on the other hand, could watch Usher and Burt -- really, Usher and any muppet -- all day. But not Abby. Abby is by far my least favorite muppet, and not even Usher's smooth presence could make me want to watch that screeching, whining disaster of a character.
Usher has just informed Burt that his dance moves are "one of a kind." And now Usher is performing some of his one-of-a-kind dance moves.
I am just saying is all.
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
1.29.2014
11.25.2013
listing and listening: how to boost creativity, productivity, and sanity (i hope)
As much as I don't like Facebook, sometimes it can be good for something. A post by Stephanie St. Claire about starting and growing your small business recently went viral, and as a result of someone posting it on Facebook, I saw it. The post was great, with the kind of encouragement I needed at the time and a vibe that I really liked. So I read more.
As I tumbled down the blissbombed.com rabbit hole, I came across this post about daily list-making for creativity and problem solving. Daily lists? I could totally do that! I love lists! And I can still count to ten!
I've been trying it for a few days now. Most of my lists have been pretty lame so far, but there are a couple that I like. One is titled "what would make my life work better, right now?" and I see things that I really probably need to pay attention to -- and things that are within reach. One is called "ways I can keep my toddler occupied without involving a screen." The effectiveness of these ideas will surely be determined more by his whims than by the creativity of the ideas, BUT, at the very least I have some ideas to burn through next time I plan to shower
Steph first got the idea from James Altucher, another blogger I read. I recently bought his book (it's at $1.99 on Amazon) but I haven't had the chance to read it yet.
All in all, I like this list idea so far. I haven't seen a whole lot of actual fruit from it yet, but the problem solving feels good, regardless of whether any actual problems have been solved just yet.
What do you think about this idea? Are you a list maker?
10.21.2013
fortification and the mom struggling to feed a toddler
When I first had my baby, I planned to nurse him exclusively for at least six months and to start "baby-led weaning" at that point. That meant I was going to start offering him regular foods to see what he took to and what he didn't like. None of this baby food nonsense for me, and the baby foods I WOULD give him would be hand-made by me, from whole, organic ingredients! And then my plan was to do a clean, all-organic, mostly whole foods diet. His grains would be whole grains. His sweeteners would be natural sweeteners, not the white refined stuff that we're all addicted to. So what if the vast majority of my budget was going toward housing and grocery bills. It's his health! Health is the foundation of life! This is critical stuff!
Enter: reality
My plan worked for a while. Sort of. My kid was one of those kids who is reluctant to give up the boob and start with the real food, so it wasn't until he was about 11 months old that he would get any significant amount of nutrition from food rather than milk. We did well combining eating and nursing, though I did end up getting organic baby food as a concession.
It took me more than a year to come to terms with the fact that my plan just wouldn't work. Not with this kid, and not in this situation. I was hitting up against severe constrictions that made it impossible to feed Gabriel the way I wanted. I simply didn't have the spare time to make his food. I didn't have the funds to buy everything organic. I constantly had to make choices between making his food and earning his money. Eventually I just resolved to make extra food whenever I did have the time, and otherwise to feed him my version of "convenience" foods, like pre-made applesauce pouches, cut up fruit and vegetables, and frozen peas. I'd also give him the organic crackers and puffs when I could get them. (So much for no refined grains!)
There was the complicating factor of him being allergic to dairy, which is a major source of fats, calcium, and protein for most kids. One thing led to another, and it became clear that he needed to be getting more calories. I went through an arduous phase of "trying harder," wherein I overdosed on reading materials and lost a lot of income -- and therefore food-buying power. Eventually I had to accept the fact that this was not going to happen the way I wanted it to happen. It became more important that he get enough to eat, no matter what, than that he never have fried foods, never have white sugars, never drink juice unless I juice it myself from fresh organic produce. It just was. not. happening.
So I let go of my expectations of the perfect diet. I stopped comparing myself to the mommy bloggers who have been foodies their entire lives, have nutrition degrees, have their own organic gardens and access to organic farmers and blogs that give them food budgets that were bigger than my rent, not to mention supportive husbands who bring in most of the family's income and put the kids to bed so that mama can have five freaking minutes to herself. Because I didn't have any of that.
Things are different, now. I am feeding him all kinds of things I swore would never be welcome in my home. He eats hot dogs. He eats tater tots. Everything gets drenched in ketchup. I buy nutrient-fortified things as often as I can -- calcium-fortified orange juice, protein-fortified almond milk, DHA-fortified eggs. Enriched, fortified, value-added stuff is everywhere. A far cry from the whole foods I theoretically hold as ideal.
I still feed him mostly organic produce when it's on the dirty dozen, and most of our meats and dairy (for me) are hormone-free and antibiotic-free -- these are two things I follow the 80/20 rule on. But a popular snack around here is (natural) peanut butter on (Aldi brand) graham crackers. He gets a tablespoon or two of Nutella once a day (he calls it "ice cream," which is completely adorable). He gets juice at breakfast and lunch. I spend way too much money on those pouches. Some days the only vegetables he gets are in a pouch and in the three bites of spaghetti sauce he'll tolerate before realizing I've loaded it with carrots and peas.
It's unbelievably hard to let go of expectations, especially when it comes to our parenting. In a lot of ways, I am the mom I always wanted to be. But when it comes to food, changes had to be made by necessity. What's more, I had to stop telling myself I should be able to do this really great thing of elevating and protecting my baby's diet at all costs. I simply lacked the capacity to pull it off. And I had to accept that, or die trying.
What is something you always thought you'd do as a parent (or as a grown-up), that you later realized simply wasn't possible?
Enter: reality
My plan worked for a while. Sort of. My kid was one of those kids who is reluctant to give up the boob and start with the real food, so it wasn't until he was about 11 months old that he would get any significant amount of nutrition from food rather than milk. We did well combining eating and nursing, though I did end up getting organic baby food as a concession.
It took me more than a year to come to terms with the fact that my plan just wouldn't work. Not with this kid, and not in this situation. I was hitting up against severe constrictions that made it impossible to feed Gabriel the way I wanted. I simply didn't have the spare time to make his food. I didn't have the funds to buy everything organic. I constantly had to make choices between making his food and earning his money. Eventually I just resolved to make extra food whenever I did have the time, and otherwise to feed him my version of "convenience" foods, like pre-made applesauce pouches, cut up fruit and vegetables, and frozen peas. I'd also give him the organic crackers and puffs when I could get them. (So much for no refined grains!)
There was the complicating factor of him being allergic to dairy, which is a major source of fats, calcium, and protein for most kids. One thing led to another, and it became clear that he needed to be getting more calories. I went through an arduous phase of "trying harder," wherein I overdosed on reading materials and lost a lot of income -- and therefore food-buying power. Eventually I had to accept the fact that this was not going to happen the way I wanted it to happen. It became more important that he get enough to eat, no matter what, than that he never have fried foods, never have white sugars, never drink juice unless I juice it myself from fresh organic produce. It just was. not. happening.
So I let go of my expectations of the perfect diet. I stopped comparing myself to the mommy bloggers who have been foodies their entire lives, have nutrition degrees, have their own organic gardens and access to organic farmers and blogs that give them food budgets that were bigger than my rent, not to mention supportive husbands who bring in most of the family's income and put the kids to bed so that mama can have five freaking minutes to herself. Because I didn't have any of that.
Things are different, now. I am feeding him all kinds of things I swore would never be welcome in my home. He eats hot dogs. He eats tater tots. Everything gets drenched in ketchup. I buy nutrient-fortified things as often as I can -- calcium-fortified orange juice, protein-fortified almond milk, DHA-fortified eggs. Enriched, fortified, value-added stuff is everywhere. A far cry from the whole foods I theoretically hold as ideal.
I still feed him mostly organic produce when it's on the dirty dozen, and most of our meats and dairy (for me) are hormone-free and antibiotic-free -- these are two things I follow the 80/20 rule on. But a popular snack around here is (natural) peanut butter on (Aldi brand) graham crackers. He gets a tablespoon or two of Nutella once a day (he calls it "ice cream," which is completely adorable). He gets juice at breakfast and lunch. I spend way too much money on those pouches. Some days the only vegetables he gets are in a pouch and in the three bites of spaghetti sauce he'll tolerate before realizing I've loaded it with carrots and peas.
It's unbelievably hard to let go of expectations, especially when it comes to our parenting. In a lot of ways, I am the mom I always wanted to be. But when it comes to food, changes had to be made by necessity. What's more, I had to stop telling myself I should be able to do this really great thing of elevating and protecting my baby's diet at all costs. I simply lacked the capacity to pull it off. And I had to accept that, or die trying.
What is something you always thought you'd do as a parent (or as a grown-up), that you later realized simply wasn't possible?
9.30.2013
the hardest thing i'll ever do
Being a single mom to an infant is the hardest thing I've ever done. That's not necessarily saying a whole lot, because I am not really one to "stretch myself" or anything like that. Nevertheless, it is by far the hardest thing I've ever done, and I'm hoping it will be the hardest thing I ever do. Lying awake at night, wondering how on Earth I will ever pull off a successful attempt at parenting this tiny person who needs everything and whose needs are my sole responsibility to meet...facing the prospect of the next 18 years rearing this child...possibly all by myself for the duration.... That's really hard.
But the good news is that I am doing it anyway. I am scratching out a life for my son and me. It's not always on my terms and it's definitely not the life I ever wanted or planned, but I'm doing it. He is healthy and he is very happy and bright and secure, and I still have most of my hair. The inability to cope has been more about the circumstance of parenting solo while battling crippling fear than the actual child being parented. I knew it the minute I knew he was coming along that this baby is special, and he really is. He is my gift.
But motherhood has been really, really tough. Through no fault of Gabriel's -- he is the easiest toddler I have ever met and I am not just saying that because he is my child and I am blinded -- it's been almost too tough. I am too hard on myself. I second-guess too much. I am sensitive to anything remotely less than perfect and I am quick to assign blame and failure to myself. Compounded by a chronic lack of sleep and an ongoing health concern lately, my resolve and capacity have been faltering. I've stalled out, emotionally. On the outside, I'm moving along; on the inside, my thought life is a wreck.
I went through a period this summer during which I doubted everything, most off all my ability to do this parenting thing. Everything looked like failure to me, from my inability to provide enough for myself and my son to be fully independent and autonomous, to inability to get laundry folded and put away within three days of being washed. I just didn't think I could do it. I set a high bar for "success," whatever that is, and then I vilified myself for not meeting that standard. No matter that the standard is tough for a fully functioning family led by two adults in a healthy marriage and I am doing it on my own. Nevermind that my kid is a great kid. Nevermind that I am doing a good job as a mom and anyone who knows anything about kids has made it obvious that they think so. I couldn't -- still can't -- escape the constant feeling that I am not good enough, that I most assuredly will fail, and that whichever decision I make in this moment will ultimately set the trap that will break my leg down the road. I expect to fail. I anticipate it. And I try to move forward despite "knowing" that, sooner or later, something will turn into disaster.
I'm starting to come out of that dark hole of despair. I caught myself falling, and I started asking for help. It's ok to accept help, sure, and I am getting better about that, but more importantly I am coming around to the truth that it's ok to need help in the first place. We all need help at some point. These days I might be on the receiving end, but then I'll get a leg up and I'll be able to turn around and help the next person. And as one sweet friend recently reminded me, there are people who want to be able to give their help, and I should let them have the opportunity to do so. Helping is a two-way exchange, not one-way.
Through deliberate effort, I am examining my negative scripts and imposing changes. People are rallying for me, giving me new lines, challenging my expectations, putting candles in the dark corners. I am hearing that I can do this, that I am doing it, and that I am smart enough and capable enough to keep doing it, no matter what. They are telling me this over and over and over, across the board, from every direction.
One day, maybe, I will believe them.
In the meantime, my task is to keep moving forward. One hour, one clean-up, one whispered prayer, one menu plan, one Pat the Bunny, one desperate plea to God at a time.
But the good news is that I am doing it anyway. I am scratching out a life for my son and me. It's not always on my terms and it's definitely not the life I ever wanted or planned, but I'm doing it. He is healthy and he is very happy and bright and secure, and I still have most of my hair. The inability to cope has been more about the circumstance of parenting solo while battling crippling fear than the actual child being parented. I knew it the minute I knew he was coming along that this baby is special, and he really is. He is my gift.
But motherhood has been really, really tough. Through no fault of Gabriel's -- he is the easiest toddler I have ever met and I am not just saying that because he is my child and I am blinded -- it's been almost too tough. I am too hard on myself. I second-guess too much. I am sensitive to anything remotely less than perfect and I am quick to assign blame and failure to myself. Compounded by a chronic lack of sleep and an ongoing health concern lately, my resolve and capacity have been faltering. I've stalled out, emotionally. On the outside, I'm moving along; on the inside, my thought life is a wreck.
I went through a period this summer during which I doubted everything, most off all my ability to do this parenting thing. Everything looked like failure to me, from my inability to provide enough for myself and my son to be fully independent and autonomous, to inability to get laundry folded and put away within three days of being washed. I just didn't think I could do it. I set a high bar for "success," whatever that is, and then I vilified myself for not meeting that standard. No matter that the standard is tough for a fully functioning family led by two adults in a healthy marriage and I am doing it on my own. Nevermind that my kid is a great kid. Nevermind that I am doing a good job as a mom and anyone who knows anything about kids has made it obvious that they think so. I couldn't -- still can't -- escape the constant feeling that I am not good enough, that I most assuredly will fail, and that whichever decision I make in this moment will ultimately set the trap that will break my leg down the road. I expect to fail. I anticipate it. And I try to move forward despite "knowing" that, sooner or later, something will turn into disaster.
I'm starting to come out of that dark hole of despair. I caught myself falling, and I started asking for help. It's ok to accept help, sure, and I am getting better about that, but more importantly I am coming around to the truth that it's ok to need help in the first place. We all need help at some point. These days I might be on the receiving end, but then I'll get a leg up and I'll be able to turn around and help the next person. And as one sweet friend recently reminded me, there are people who want to be able to give their help, and I should let them have the opportunity to do so. Helping is a two-way exchange, not one-way.
Through deliberate effort, I am examining my negative scripts and imposing changes. People are rallying for me, giving me new lines, challenging my expectations, putting candles in the dark corners. I am hearing that I can do this, that I am doing it, and that I am smart enough and capable enough to keep doing it, no matter what. They are telling me this over and over and over, across the board, from every direction.
One day, maybe, I will believe them.
In the meantime, my task is to keep moving forward. One hour, one clean-up, one whispered prayer, one menu plan, one Pat the Bunny, one desperate plea to God at a time.
8.02.2013
nouwen on broader vocation
I'm reading a Nouwen book on discernment and what the process looks like. It's rich stuff, but this is no surprise.
Lately I have felt inexplicably overwhelmed. Certainly being overly tired, having a toddler at home 24/7, and running a little low on funds has something to do with it. But it's felt almost like there's some sort of block against me being able to get as much done as I'd like. It's been frustrating to feel so easily incapacitated. Mama needs a nap.
It's felt a little tough lately. I didn't work for most of June because of some health concerns, and July has been very low-paying as a result. Things will pick back up in August, but if I'm not able to find a way to get more sleep, I will just be burning the candle at both ends. We're in the throes of potty training and it is not going "well" if "well" is defined as "learned quickly," so I spend a LOT more time cleaning than I would prefer (but the alternative of going back to diapers makes the trade-off worth it, in my opinion). Tell any single mama who is at home all day with a toddler that she "shouldn't be this stressed" and just see if she doesn't go ballistic on you; that said, on paper there doesn't seem to be much of a good reason for me to feel as close to the edge as I do. The question "how could this possibly be the right thing to be doing?" keeps me up at night. Something isn't working right.
Turns out, it was me all along.
The other day, surrounded by three dogs and one naked toddler, I snatched a few minutes to lie on the couch and read a couple of pages in the Nouwen book. And what I found was exactly what I needed to hear:
What I learned from testing a call in Latin America is that my broader vocation is simply to enjoy God's presence, do God's will, and be grateful wherever I am. The question of where to live and what to do is really insignificant compared to the question of how to keep the eyes of my heart focused on the Lord. I can be teaching at Yale, working in the bakery at the Genesee Abbey, walking with poor children in Peru, or writing a book, and still feel totally useless. Or I can do these same things and know that I am fulfilling my call. There is no such thing as the right place or the right job. I can be miserable or joyful, restless or at peace, in all situations.
I've been getting too caught up in the notion of "the right place" or "the right thing to do" and measuring myself according to some standard that not only is not realistic, but is entirely self-directed. I've got to cut myself some slack and be realistic about my situation -- the good, the bad, and the temporary. I've also got to start getting to bed at a decent hour. And it's time to get back into morning prayer for sure.
I'm no less tired than I was, but I feel more calmed. The panic and perpetual frustration are starting to subside as my heart gets refocused. Yes, with God's help, I can do this.
Let this be a reminder. Kyrie eleison.
Lately I have felt inexplicably overwhelmed. Certainly being overly tired, having a toddler at home 24/7, and running a little low on funds has something to do with it. But it's felt almost like there's some sort of block against me being able to get as much done as I'd like. It's been frustrating to feel so easily incapacitated. Mama needs a nap.
It's felt a little tough lately. I didn't work for most of June because of some health concerns, and July has been very low-paying as a result. Things will pick back up in August, but if I'm not able to find a way to get more sleep, I will just be burning the candle at both ends. We're in the throes of potty training and it is not going "well" if "well" is defined as "learned quickly," so I spend a LOT more time cleaning than I would prefer (but the alternative of going back to diapers makes the trade-off worth it, in my opinion). Tell any single mama who is at home all day with a toddler that she "shouldn't be this stressed" and just see if she doesn't go ballistic on you; that said, on paper there doesn't seem to be much of a good reason for me to feel as close to the edge as I do. The question "how could this possibly be the right thing to be doing?" keeps me up at night. Something isn't working right.
Turns out, it was me all along.
The other day, surrounded by three dogs and one naked toddler, I snatched a few minutes to lie on the couch and read a couple of pages in the Nouwen book. And what I found was exactly what I needed to hear:
What I learned from testing a call in Latin America is that my broader vocation is simply to enjoy God's presence, do God's will, and be grateful wherever I am. The question of where to live and what to do is really insignificant compared to the question of how to keep the eyes of my heart focused on the Lord. I can be teaching at Yale, working in the bakery at the Genesee Abbey, walking with poor children in Peru, or writing a book, and still feel totally useless. Or I can do these same things and know that I am fulfilling my call. There is no such thing as the right place or the right job. I can be miserable or joyful, restless or at peace, in all situations.
I've been getting too caught up in the notion of "the right place" or "the right thing to do" and measuring myself according to some standard that not only is not realistic, but is entirely self-directed. I've got to cut myself some slack and be realistic about my situation -- the good, the bad, and the temporary. I've also got to start getting to bed at a decent hour. And it's time to get back into morning prayer for sure.
I'm no less tired than I was, but I feel more calmed. The panic and perpetual frustration are starting to subside as my heart gets refocused. Yes, with God's help, I can do this.
Let this be a reminder. Kyrie eleison.
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