A few days ago my three-year-old daughter tried to take her big red guitar out to play at bedtime. I told her "No". She continued. I told her "No, its not time to play guitar, it's time to..." She continued, with a gleam in her eye. The third time I said "NO", I stood up from my seat and walked over to her, picked up the guitar, and returned it to it's rightful place. At that moment, Grace yelled defiantly, "You hitted me! Don't hit me!!".
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech! Wha?
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Within reason
I find myself worrying far too much, far too frequently, about what other people will think, about living up to, or even exceeding, "their" expectations.
I do it regarding my mother. She worked full time, had three kids, cooked dinner every night, and kept our house spic and span. I had clean sheets once a week, and my Keds were never dingy. She's a tough act to follow. She was active in her church, responsive to my grandparents' needs, and even managed to do some socializing, although probably not as much as I'd want to do. The woman ironed our jeans.
And with friends. I keep mental track of all the nice things my friends have ever done for me, and I want to make sure I "pay them back" adequately. I think about all the talents my friends have, be they crafty, sporty, cook-y, musical, or otherwise, and I think I should be able to do all that stuff, too, as well as all the stuff my mom did (I need to learn to sew so I can make Johnny's Halloween costumes!).
Even strangers. I look at the women I see online, and while I know that what I see online is only a "persona", I figure I better be as witty, savvy, and clever as they are, or even moreso. I look at how they take care of themselves, how their kids are in private schools, how their homes are full of just the right objects d'art, and I think I better get a move on. I see how they are feeding their families "unprocessed" foods and how they are managing their gardens and making daily bread from scratch. I feel bad for the box of Kroger Brand 'Nilla wafers on my shelf.
The trouble is, I say to myself, "WHEN?" I leave the house at 7:00 every morning, baby in tow. I get home after 4:00, usually closer to 5:00 because I have to do the shopping, and then I have to cook dinner, do laundry, bathe the kid, and pick up our messes. I need to spend some time just playing with the baby, and talking to my husband. By the time all that happens, it's 7:30, and I'm sitting down to watch a TV show while I upload and edit photos, or fold the last load of laundry for the evening. And dinner? It might have been Kraft Mac and Cheese, or it might have been homemade chicken and noodles, but I guarantee you even if it was the latter, those noodles came from a bag. I DO NOT HAVE THE TIME.
I do not have the time to get my eyebrows waxed, let alone get a facial. I do not have the time to bake a pie from pumpkin in a can, let alone roast and puree my own. I want to make all of my family's food from scratch, I want to do it more than anything, but it is not reasonable.
So, reasonable. That is what I'm going for these days. I can't keep our sheets clean all the time, and there will probably be a spill on the floor, and my outfit won't be the most fashion forward, and my cooking will only be semi-homemade. My blogs will contain unedited photos and my laundry will be sitting on the dresser instead of hung up neatly.
But we'll be clean, fed, and dressed. We'll be relatively healthy and I'll force a vegetable on us every night. It is reasonable to expect that sometimes my car will reach critical mass, and reasonable to assume my friends will be better than me at a lot of things. It is also reasonable to allow myself to go out now and then, to say "yes" to a beer and "no" to the laundry.
What I need most is to remember that while it may feel like everyone is judging me, that mostly comes from within. No one is spending time thinking about how my walls need better art, or how my outfit is from last year. And if they aren't thinking about it, why am I? I cannot do it all. I can't work, be super-mom, crafty-girl, homemaker and journalist. It's not reasonable. So I pick. I sometimes pick television over clean floors. I'll have to forgive myself, because I'm probably the only one who cares.
I do it regarding my mother. She worked full time, had three kids, cooked dinner every night, and kept our house spic and span. I had clean sheets once a week, and my Keds were never dingy. She's a tough act to follow. She was active in her church, responsive to my grandparents' needs, and even managed to do some socializing, although probably not as much as I'd want to do. The woman ironed our jeans.
And with friends. I keep mental track of all the nice things my friends have ever done for me, and I want to make sure I "pay them back" adequately. I think about all the talents my friends have, be they crafty, sporty, cook-y, musical, or otherwise, and I think I should be able to do all that stuff, too, as well as all the stuff my mom did (I need to learn to sew so I can make Johnny's Halloween costumes!).
Even strangers. I look at the women I see online, and while I know that what I see online is only a "persona", I figure I better be as witty, savvy, and clever as they are, or even moreso. I look at how they take care of themselves, how their kids are in private schools, how their homes are full of just the right objects d'art, and I think I better get a move on. I see how they are feeding their families "unprocessed" foods and how they are managing their gardens and making daily bread from scratch. I feel bad for the box of Kroger Brand 'Nilla wafers on my shelf.
The trouble is, I say to myself, "WHEN?" I leave the house at 7:00 every morning, baby in tow. I get home after 4:00, usually closer to 5:00 because I have to do the shopping, and then I have to cook dinner, do laundry, bathe the kid, and pick up our messes. I need to spend some time just playing with the baby, and talking to my husband. By the time all that happens, it's 7:30, and I'm sitting down to watch a TV show while I upload and edit photos, or fold the last load of laundry for the evening. And dinner? It might have been Kraft Mac and Cheese, or it might have been homemade chicken and noodles, but I guarantee you even if it was the latter, those noodles came from a bag. I DO NOT HAVE THE TIME.
I do not have the time to get my eyebrows waxed, let alone get a facial. I do not have the time to bake a pie from pumpkin in a can, let alone roast and puree my own. I want to make all of my family's food from scratch, I want to do it more than anything, but it is not reasonable.
So, reasonable. That is what I'm going for these days. I can't keep our sheets clean all the time, and there will probably be a spill on the floor, and my outfit won't be the most fashion forward, and my cooking will only be semi-homemade. My blogs will contain unedited photos and my laundry will be sitting on the dresser instead of hung up neatly.
But we'll be clean, fed, and dressed. We'll be relatively healthy and I'll force a vegetable on us every night. It is reasonable to expect that sometimes my car will reach critical mass, and reasonable to assume my friends will be better than me at a lot of things. It is also reasonable to allow myself to go out now and then, to say "yes" to a beer and "no" to the laundry.
What I need most is to remember that while it may feel like everyone is judging me, that mostly comes from within. No one is spending time thinking about how my walls need better art, or how my outfit is from last year. And if they aren't thinking about it, why am I? I cannot do it all. I can't work, be super-mom, crafty-girl, homemaker and journalist. It's not reasonable. So I pick. I sometimes pick television over clean floors. I'll have to forgive myself, because I'm probably the only one who cares.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Let It Be
When my kid is angry or sad or anxious, it literally makes my stomach hurt. As a child, I felt that I had to measure the “temperature” (mood) of the room at all times, and therefore I continue to do it as an adult. I can sniff out others’ unhappiness like a droopy old hound.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Little things...
Enjoy the little things in life…for one day you will look back and realize they were the big things.
I saw this quote on a wall hanging at the florist when we went to order flowers for my grandmother’s funeral. I’ve been having what I refer to as “4th Quarter blues”… the last 3 months of the year are upon us… the holidays are approaching, bringing food, emotional baggage, a “Gammie” sized hole, and lots and lots of “STUFF”.
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