Did you know there’s such a thing as a crib tent? It’s a “safety device” and it keeps little toddlers right where they should be kept — in a CRIB until they’re a teenager!!
I officially now believe in God…
In other news, more Rugrat Reprieve over at Imperfect Parent today…
Retweet this postPersonal change (revolution really) often gets foiled by this feeling of despair that I’ll never get where I’m going.. I’ll never feel rested enough, peaceful enough.. never anything enough. How could I get there from here? But then, something simple happens:
I tell the children that Mommy needs her alone time during shower and I lock my door. I. Lock. My. Door.
–thereby granting myself this simple gift — a peaceful time for personal ablutions and reflection usually overrun with breaking up fights, answering questions, and administering begged for lipstick swaths on sweet ruby lips.
What if they’re right that it all boils down to these small moments — these very small but crucial gifts to ourselves. Showers, reading time, walks (alone) to the mailbox.. help with preparing dinner. Wouldn’t that be miraculous?
What if peace and serenity didn’t require 5 days of silent meditation, ashtanga yoga practice, and vegan diets, or vows to never lose one’s temper? What if perfection (or near-perfection) wasn’t even an approximation of what was required?
What if we all vowed to do THREE SMALL THINGS for ourselves, out of love (not guilt, or resentment, or anger or exhaustion, OR oblivion) every single day. Would you could you for yourself?
#4
Retweet this postThe evening’s dread approach no longer finds solace in thoughts of you… your chill clean sweet release.. your thoughtless escape from all the hurry-scurry. You’re no longer a friend, a secret buoy, a kind invisible force to bring peace. You’ve not taken everything from me yet, but I know you will. If I follow you where you want me to go — to a land of more and more and more…. to a place where just one is never ever enough, I’ll lose everyone I love.
But still it feels like a loss. A huge terrifying loss. Without you, I’m so much less than I dreamed I’d be. So much less. When a beloved friend visited this week, she who is still so free, I sobbed for the way I used to be. Before marriage, kids, jobs, life… How far below joy I’ve fallen.
Rebuilding and crafting change and renewal from this tangle of addiction and craving is so much harder sometimes than at others. When I realize how much I relied on you to get me through. How asleep at the wheel I’d become.
The novocain is wearing off now. I’m girding myself with new people and meetings and new rituals. I’m starting over, every day… Hoping to replace oblivion with real loving (self) kindness.
There are others like me… many others. Other women who are trying to love and reconfigure their lives so there is more joy, less hassle, less dead air ….
Whether it’s alcohol, or work, or sex, or kids, jobs, mortgages or in-laws… many of us have neglected to find anything more than mere pittances for ourselves and we’ve completely and utterly lost our way… Remember those wild hopeful girls we used to be? Let’s find them again. Together.
#2
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Is what I call a “push present“….
Retweet this postOne thing about going to meetings with other people in recovery, you certainly are given plenty of food for thought. Sometimes it’s a bit much, but then it’s leavened with laughter and hearty joking and all is well again. There was much discussion last night about one of my greatest challenges as a mom: fighting the tendency to protect my kids from all pain and anguish. Since I can’t even bear it when they say they’re hungry (for the fifth time after they declare their dislike for dinner), I have a long slog on this one…
Last night a woman shared her recent news: the father of her kids (who are in their young 20′s) has recently been diagnosed with brain cancer and has only weeks to live. She shared the hell of watching her children grieve and being unable to take the pain away. I sat there completely immobilized by fear. If I cannot stand watching the girls get their feelings hurt, how would I ever bear something this terrible? Nothing like borrowing trouble to keep one in a constant state of anxiety and angst.
One of the seasoned codgers weighed in with this gem: We are here not to protect people from their pain, but to help them sort through it. To love them and support them on their journey — but not to take that journey away from them. And I felt my shoulders drop, took a deep breath, and thought “yes.”
I drank too much and too often largely to kill off all the huge feelings — the unmanageable feelings of motherhood — personhood — and it’s a common story in the Halls of these meetings. Sensitive people cannot stand what life presents them, so they slowly try and douse the emotions –not realizing they’re also making joy and happiness impossible as well.
Looking around the rooms at the faces and listening to the stories, I’ve never felt so included… so represented by similarly afflicted spongy hearted wanderers.
What about you? What’s your philosophy of protecting your loved ones? Karen asks this question over at Strollerderby today
#15
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Meanwhile, have you checked out the League of Maternal Justice yet?
Retweet this postThordora writes Spin Me I Pulsate and is an amazingly gifted writer. I’ve nominated her for a September Perfect Post Award for this gorgeousness:
To see more Perfect Posts, go to Suburban Turmoil and Petroville…
Congratulations!
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Resurfacing after a faster than can be believed vacation at Semiahmoo (pictured above). It’s absolutely breathtaking there — the beach the sky all gray and Fall-like, the lodge cozy and warm…. Great coffee and chocolate and sleep and rest. And no mind-altering substances of any kind. Admittedly, a very twitchy couple of hours leading up to the fancy dinner (could I make it without ordering some amazing wine?) Phone calls made to support system, dark chocolate consumed against the urge and phew! Made it through. This vacation was just a small taste of what we’ll hopefully muster later this year or early next (a real, longer than one night, vacation away from the kiddies and the worries and the houses and the jobs)….
Until then #13 has never been so lucky.
Retweet this postI’m down with a bug so am enjoying catching up on my blog reading (and whining)…. :
“Can you pick up my drycleaning on your way home, honey?” ==== “Tonight will you wear leather and pull my hair?”
3 Seconds is the new 5 minutes… As such, I’m putting together some quick and dirty (DIRRRTY) grub instructions for you self-professed lackluster chefs (you know who you are)… Instead of Rachael Ray, I offer you Grubby Grub for the Tired and Cranky Parent and you can be my bitches, ok? Here’s my first recipe. Follow along if you feel like it, suckas.
I call this one-bowl meal “O the Joys Delight”(cuz she lerves fiber), but kids like it when you call it “Magic Fairy Wings and Raisins”
Nutritional Advantages: Fewer calories than steak and potatoes, vegetarian, dairy, high in fiber
Mental Energy Advantages: Mommy unlikely to be resentful and intimidated by this meal … excellent offering after a long day at work.
*Raisin Bran
In other news, which celeb do you most parent like?? (or, how DEEP is my soul??)…
Retweet this postMoms who smoke pot, breastfeed each other’s children, struggle with feelings of ambivalence about their children and their marriages. Is this the stuff of True Mom Confessions (or another daily read at Babble)? Or just a list of the usual secrets parents keep? When is telling the truth freeing? When is it merely exhibitionism?
Chicago Moms blogger Maryann Mohanraj writes about the dilemma all writers, all bloggers, face. Telling the truth isn’t only a decision about privacy (our own and our family’s) but also a calculation of the risks of truth-telling balanced again the fear and shame of someone knowing who we really are. Ms. Mohanraj takes the plunge, bares her soul, and if the comments are any indication, is vindicated for her bravery.
Read more at my post over at Babble…
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