Insanity of Motherhood

Motherhood, marriage, and midlife.


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Crazy Sort of Brave

In celebration of my 50th birthday my oldest son and I decided to do something different. Not your ordinary kind of different. But something so unique that most of my friends and family were shocked that we did it.

We jumped out of an airplane. Not alone of course. We were tandem to an instructor and jumped from an airplane at 13,000 square feet. For one minute we were in a free fall and then the parachute sail went up and we glided for 7 minutes to the ground.

When I posted our video adventure on Facebook for friends and family to view I was surprised how everyone response was the same. They all told me how ‘brave’ I was. During the entire experience I never thouht for once how brave I was. In my mind I was crazy for doing such a thing.

Brave is a special word reserved for people who do heroic things. Jumping from an airplane wasn’t really brave. It wasn’t heroic. It was just something most people who never do and a little bit crazy.

After hearing how many people thought I was brave I started to think what the word really meant. Does being brave mean doing something other people would never do? Does it mean doing something that involves a risk? Or does mean doing something that requires courage?

I know some very brave people. They have endured far greater fears and uncertainty than jumping out of a plane.

Here are examples brave people I know.

The people who must continue to live after a child they loved has died.

The spouse who is told they are no longer loved and is being left alone to raise the children.

The person diagnosed with cancer and is told they are terminal with only a few months to live.

A child who is being bullied and has no support from the school or community they live in.

The service men and women who are stationed in hostile environments protecting the freedom of people who don’t ever know who they are.

The child who removes a parent from life support because it’s their parent’s wish, but isn’t ready to let their parent go.

The child who must go home to an abusive household never knowing what may happen on any given day.

Being brave doesn’t always mean risking your life. Often it means continuing to live even when doing so seems difficult or impossible.

Jumping wasn’t the scariest part of the event. It was the fear of the unknown on the plane ride up that made me feel most afraid. The fall itself was thrilling. It’s the thrill of doing something so unusual I will remember most, not the fear.

We are all brave. Not because we risk our lives, but because we continue to live despite its’difficulties.


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The Joy

A conversation between a mother and a little boy.

Mother and little boy are walking in a store.

Momma,  I’m tired.  Would you carry me?” – Little Boy

“Aren’t you a little too big to be carried around?  You were fifty pounds the last time we weighed you.” – Mother

“Fifty pounds isn’t that heavy.  You work out. You’re strong.  You’re an ox, Momma.” – Little Boy

“An ox?  Thanks…I think.  I may be strong, but you are a big guy now.  You’re seven years old.” – Mother

“Seven isn’t that old.  I can’t drive a car or watch Harry Potter films.” – Little Boy

“I know you aren’t that old, but still won’t you feel strange having your mom carry you around in the store?” – Mother

“No.” – Little Boy

“No?  Really?” – Mother

“No.  When you carry me around I get to rest for a bit and I am closer to you.  It makes me happy.  What’s more important than making your son happy?” – Little Boy

Mother is silent for a moment.

“Come here.” – Mother

Mother picks up little boy in her arms.

See.  it’s not so bad, right?” – Little Boy

“My arms hurt.  You’re heavy.” – Mother

“The pain won’t last forever, Momma.  Someday you’ll miss being able to carry me around in your arms.” – Little Boy

The joy of a seven-year old boy.

 

 


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Wednesday Words of Wisdom – Travelista Blog

Traveling abroad is no easy feat with five family members. Several months ago as I was preparing for our family trip to England/Ireland I did research on how to pack lightly.  Packing light was a necessity for the family and I because we were traveling with a large group.  Packing less meant saving money, time, and effort.  Our family goal was for each person to be able to include all the needed items for the trip in one small carry on bag, per person.

Amazingly we achieved our goal.  Each of us brought only one carry and a smaller tote bag on the plane.  We didn’t check any bags in on any flights we flew on.  Packing lightly was not easy for me.  I’m an over packer.  I love to be prepared for anything and have an outfit to wear with any event.  The idea of packing two weeks of clothing, in a small carry on, was stressful enough, but I was also concerned about how fashionable I would look on my travels.  I wanted to enjoy the sights of Europe looking as if I was meant to live in there, not like just another American tourist making their rounds.

Fashion and travel don’t always go together, but luckily I found an addictive website that helped me pack only the necessary items and look like the fashion guru I’ve always hoped to be.  The travel site I found is called Travelista.  It is a small site that focuses on simplifying traveling, especially when in comes to packing light.  I love, love this website.  The packing advice given has changed my travel life forever.

Two must read articles are How to Pack Light and 8 Ways to Pack Like a Fashionista.  The information and advice shared in these article is great.  I thought I would show you what I packed for my two-week trip to Europe using the advice given from Travelista.

I tried to follow the packing guidelines as closely as possible.  The color combinations may seem dull for Fall, but I was happy with my choices.  Every item of clothing could be easily worn with each other and perfect for layering.  Layering is the key to successful light packing.  I will show you my Spring/Fall packing list and one for Summer.  The colors in the Summer packing list are much for colorful.

Spring/Fall Items

Summer Items

The tips used for packing aren’t just for women.  I applied the same principles to pack for my husband and three boys too.  We had room for all of our personal grooming things  and were able to accommodate temperature ranges rain/sun and from the low 40 degrees to the lower 70 degrees.  In case you are wondering we did laundry three times during our trip.

Pretty cool, right?  I certainly think so.  Since our trip to Europe I’ve spent hours preparing for our next family adventure.  Traveling with the kids may not be easy, but at least I won’t have to worry about packing.

 

 


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Eww

 

 

A conversation between a mother, a father, two teenage boys, and a little boy.

Mother walks in to kitchen and sees teenage boy looking for food in pantry and little boy at kitchen table.  Little boy is pouring water into several containers.

“What are you doing?” – Mother

“Getting something to eat.”- Tall Boy

“Not you.  Your little brother.  What is going on with all the water containers?  What are you doing?” – Mother

“I’m being a scientist.  I am seeing what kinds of things can freeze in water.” – Little Boy

“Oh.  Being a scientist is good, but it sure is messy.  Here’s a towel to wipe up some of the water.” – Mother

Mother hands towel to little boy.

“It would be really cool is if we could freeze different types of liquid.  I bet we could freeze pee.” – Little Boy

“Eww.” – Tall Boy

“Why would you want to freeze pee?” – Mother

“Because it’s a liquid, Mom.  We have to see if all liquids freeze.” – Little Boy

Old Boy walks into the kitchen.

What are you guys talking about?” – Old Boy

“Freezing pee.” – Tall Boy

“Ha, ha.  You guys are weird.  If you freeze pee you could make ice cubes and serve them in drinks when friends come over to visit.” – Old Boy

“Yeah.  You could tell everyone it’s lemonade, if you add a little sugar.” – Tall Boy

“Ha, ha.” – Old Boy, Little Boy and Tall Boy

Father walks into the kitchen.

What is so funny?’ – Father

“The Y chromosome you added to our children is acting up again.” – Mother


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How I Killed the Green Eyed Monster

Several years ago I became Facebook friends with a woman I will call Betty.  Betty was a friend of a friend and when she sent me a Facebook request I thought nothing of it.  I knew who she was and thought she was a nice enough gal.

I didn’t know Betty very well, but in my early days of Facebook I enjoyed becoming friends with people I hardly knew and learn about their life.  Betty was a Facebook regular and from I could tell from the first few posts a professional at it.  When I first starting reading Betty’s posts I realized Betty had an amazing life.  As a matter of fact, I soon became aware there was nothing ordinary about Betty at all.

Betty is an attractive lady, mother of two beautiful girls, has an amazing career, super fit, married to her husband for over 25 years and rich…very rich.  Betty is the kind of person everyone loves.  She is funny, outgoing and very generous.  Each time I read about her career advances, trips abroad, marathon accomplishments I felt something growing inside of me.  It took me a while to identify what is was exactly, but finally I realized it was a ‘green-eyed monster”.

Each day I looked at my Facebook page and checked in on Betty. I read her posts and all of her comments.  I analyzed her life and every detail of it.  I began to feel envious, even jealous of Betty’s life.  Betty seemed to have it all.  And I do mean all.  Instead glancing at her photos and thinking to myself, “Wow, good for her.”  I started to plot and plan for her demise.

When Betty would go on her amazing vacations I would wish for rain.  When her daughter applied for a prestigious college I hoped the paper work would get lost.  When she ran her second marathon in three months I willed her foot to break.  My jealously seemed to over take me at times.  I allowed someone else’s good fortune and hard work turn me into a vile creature.

One day I spoke to my husband about a recent trip Betty had been on.  I talked about Betty’s trip in such a way that my husband said to me, “You sound jealous of Betty.  Why would you be jealous of her?”  I explained to him that she was beautiful, successful, rich, and a size 2.  To me it seemed obvious why I was jealous of her.  Instead of joining in on my trashing of Betty, my husband suggested I do something else.  He told me to wish Betty well and to be happy for her.

Be happy for Betty?  The woman who had it all didn’t need me to be happy for her, she was already happy.  What I wanted was my life to be more like Betty’s.  I told my husband I wished I had Betty’s life.  He looked at me and said, “If you had Betty’s life you wouldn’t be married to me, have your three boys, your friends, or your family. Is that what you really want?”  I looked at my husband.  What would I do without all the people I loved in my life?  My husband’s wise words got me thinking.

I decided it was time to kill the green-eyed monster.  I didn’t defriend Betty, but started to put positive energy toward her.  When she purchased a new car I told her it was wonderful.  When she won a prestigious award at work I told her congratulations.  And when she shared her photo of her in a bikini in Hawaii, looking stunning, I told her she looked amazing.

Slowly my attitude toward Betty changed.  I began to feel genuinely happy for her. She was a nice lady after all and had never been mean to me.  As a matter of fact she always posted kind things to me on Facebook.  I realized Betty did have an amazing life and it was okay.  I had a great life with a wonderful family, great friends and good health.  My life was the one that suits me best.

Occasionally I glance at Betty’s Facebook postings and think, “Geez.  Another marathon?”  But, for the most part the monster in me is dead.  Killed with well wishes and positive thoughts.

Wonder if all the monsters of the world could be cured with kindness?  It’s something to think about.


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A Year in the Life

It’s been a full year since I transitioned back to work from a full-time home parent to a working parent.  Many things have changed in the last year, including blogging taking a back seat to new demands.

My life has changed dramatically over the course of the last 12 months.  Some things for the better, some for the worse, and some things are still the same.

I loved being a full-time home parent.  As a matter of fact, I am not working right now because I work for a school and we are out for summer break.  I am extremely happy.  The boys and I have planned things for this summer, but our schedule is determined by what we would like to do rather than what we have to do.  Being a full-time home parent is kind of like being self-employed.  You can turn down jobs you don’t want and choose the one you do.

My transition to a working parent wasn’t easy.  It’s hard to know if the transition was hard because I had been out of work for so long or because the job I transitioned with was so challenging.  I think it was a little of both.  Being a perfectionist by nature I found the ‘learning curve’ for the new job very hard.  As much as I prepared I was never really ready for how stressful it would be.  Because my job is management, I had to quickly come up to speed skills used over 15 years ago.  Many skills were rusty and some forgotten.  Managing a program and other people while trying to play catch up wasn’t fun.  I felt overwhelmed all the time.

My family seemed to adjust quicker than I.  My oldest son enjoyed his role as driver to pick up his two brothers from school each day.  My husband planned and cooked meals, helped with homework, and managed to pick up the house a bit.  It was painful to come home stressed out each day from work and find the family happy and functioning without me.  I had always prided my work as a home parent and was surprised how quickly I was replaced.

For the first few months at work I made mistakes.  My expectations for myself and others were often too high.  I didn’t have a coping system for all the new emotions I was experiencing.  I did a lot of yelling, crying and complaining.  Most of which was done at home with my family.  My husband and kids had to endure a woman was wasn’t at home as often and when home she was an emotional mess.  I doubted my decision every single day and longed for my former life being home.

However, like most new experiences I became more familiar and things got better.  I started to experience success.  People made comments how I was making a positive difference.  My staff responded well to my direction.  I found I was more capable than I thought I was.  I developed friendships related to me and to my work, not things related to my kids.  I began becoming a separate person away from being a mother and wife. I could relate to why so many women wanted to return to work, so they could have accomplishments that were solely their own.

A year in the life of a working mom I have survived.  It hasn’t been all good, but there has been good in it.  The boys proved they were capable to doing more to care for themselves.  My husband proved he is able to be as nurturing as I am.  But most of all, I proved to myself that  I can work, being a wife, be a mom, not perfectly, but in a way that makes me and my family happy.

I made it through the first year.  That makes me pretty darn proud.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Anything Worse

 

A conversation between a mother and a teenage son.

Mother walks into family room and sees teenage son lying on the couch.

“Hey. Would you mind finding another place to read your magazine? Dad and I want to watch a movie.” – Mom

“I want to watch a movie too. What movie is it?” – Tall Boy

“The movie is called Her, by Spike Jonez. I’ve already seen it, but Dad hasn’t.” – Mom

“I heard that movie was good. Can I watch it with you guys?” – Tall Boy

“No. I want to watch it alone with Dad. Besides the movie has a masturbation scene. Do you want to watch a scene about masturbation with your mom sitting next to you?” – Mom

“I can’t think of anything worse. I’ll pass on the movie.” – Tall Boy

“Good choice.” – Mom