School for kids, work for mom

THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!

Dear Mommies,

It's that time of year when the kids go back to school. It can be pretty stressful before the school year even starts. The kids need the nicest backpack, the cutest shoes, the sweetest iPad cover. And can we talk about the drama of buying jeans?

As moms, we are always going to make our kids look good. And do good. We want them to excel. We’re going to give them the encouragement, resources and opportunities to shine. We then blend into the background while our little ones take flight. Rarely do we mothers push themselves forward. Pushy show moms, aside--we don't take center stage.

We’re happy to stay in the shadows with our yoga pants and messy pony tails. We don't want our pictures in the school yearbook. We'd prefer to hide. But maybe this is the year, we should be recognized. Just a little bit, other than the obligatory thanks from teachers and staff. Maybe this year we should dress as nice as our kids for the first day of school.

A very wise man once questioned the purpose of high school graduation parties. He asked why, a child who just turned into an adult without trying, is rewarded with a party? This celebration comes after 4 years of the child doing something that’s just barely considered work. The party, this man argued, should be for the parents.

As mommies we have a tendency to underestimate the amount of work it takes to raise a good child. (It’s easy to raise the bad ones—you just ignore them).

Recently, a salary data service estimated that moms should be paid $65K a year (more, if you have more than two children) to compensate us for what we do. It’s not just bottle and diapers. It’s work. Waking them up. Putting them down for naps. Feeding them, teaching them to feed themselves. Dressing them and trying to teach them to dress themselves. Coaching them through the walking and talking phase. Taking care of boo-boo's. Getting them to doctor appointments, soccer practice, piano lessons, and parties.

You should be proud of the work you do. Because you do more in one day than many people do in a week. So when anyone who asks if you have a “real” job, always respond: Yes, I’m raising children.

Relax mommies, you’ve got this!

Headaches & Life Lessons

Is this you during your migraine?

Dear Mommies,

Ever had a headache that felt as if there was someone with a sledge hammer pounding on the inside of your skull? Or a migraine that felt like you were hit by a truck? Ever had severe headache pain?

Headaches—the serious kind--can drop us to our knees. Make us nasty, irritable, and just plain non-functional. We can become awful to everyone around us. Often we're rendered useless, crawling into bed and hoping the world will go away. 

Head pain is different than other kinds of pain. It's not like carpal tunnel or joint pain. Headaches are right where our brain is positioned and where most of our senses are located. Take those out and we’re pretty much debilitated. 

The way we handle head pain is also a predictor of how we treat life’s problems. Do we whimper and whine? Hide? Go right for the extra strength pain killer? Or just muscle through? No one way is the only way. In fact, depending on the “headache” we may do all three.

There are three things that we should do with each of life's problems:

1.    Vent. Talk through it. Make sure you don’t end up in a kvetching session or a blame game. Honestly communicate your issue to someone who isn’t involved. And seek advice.

2.    Don't become part of the problem, or make the problem worse. It seems counter intuitive to bang your head against the wall when you have the mother of all headaches, but that’s what we often do. Rushing into action can make a problem worse. Give it some time and thought before you rush in to fix it. There's nothing wrong with sleeping on it.

3.    Do. Sounds simple, but once a solution is in place, work through it. Even on your worse days you're still the mommy and there are kids and laundry and dinner. Sometimes just doing a simple task can take your mind off your headache. And help you realize, no matter how bad, no pain lasts forever.

Relax Mommies, you’ve got this!

Everyday Joys

Every little kiss...

Dear Mommies,

I’ve challenged my siblings to find a joy every day. And write it down. (I challenged myself, too) They gave up by day two. “Seriously, you want us to find joy? Have you seen the news?”

I did. And they’re right. It’s almost impossible to find joy when all you see is what’s wrong with the world. The news is 24/7 of death, disease, earthquakes, fires, scandals, and heartache.

I have a need to drown my sorrows. A very clever marketer once told me: "I sell products by doing three things: I tell you that you have a problem. I tell you only my product/service/plan can solve it. And I tell you that you need to get it, now. Through guilt, sorrow and/or fear I can manipulate you, the customer, with this sales strategy."

He’s right, because today I saw a commercial for Peanut M&M’s and I decided I needed them. My problem was disappointment, my solution -- chocolate.

Today was a day of disappointments. Every little thing I wanted (even sunshine) was taken away. The beautiful sunrise was overwhelmed in clouds and rain. At work, I was told I’m wasting my time on project xyz (which I loved). I was denied a generous discount on the running shoes of my dreams (which I loved) and I was uninvited to a particular event (which I would have loved).

Peanut M&M’s made me feel better instantly, but I was still without joy. Happiness seems even further away.

The challenge of finding joy is doubly tough on mommies. On top of all our disappointments, we tend to absorb the disappointments of our munchkins. When they are devastated, we are too. So how do you find joys when the world seems to be hell-bent on taking them from you?

Take a breath, take a step back & take it all in. And then give. Share your Peanut M&M’s. 

And the day got better. I got to see the kiddies after school, I got to talk about writing and what I love about it. I did give (and get) hugs and kisses.

If I keep looking long enough, I will find more joy tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.

Relax Mommies, you've got this.

Toddlers as Teachers

Oh, those little stinkers!

We've always had those moments when we've been embarrassed (read: humiliated) by someone under the age of 5. And no one knows how to do it better than someone you love.

Those sweet little munchkins can really push our buttons. But these are teachable moments, for us and them.

Toddlers cannot be rushed. They often need to pick up every single pine cone, shell and/or bug on the ground, beach or floor. You should have been home 15 minutes ago, but you're still on your walk. Trying to hurry the process, you'll often receive very loud squawks of: "No! I don't want to go home!"

Toddlers are super sensitive to pain (when it suits them). Ever try to pluck a child out of harm's way or keep them on the right path and hear: "Ouch you're hurting me!"? You look around and of course everyone has heard it.

Toddlers love you in secret. Ever gotten rebuffed when attempting a public display of affection? "Ew, don't kiss me mommy your breath smells funny!" But when you're home, they won't let go of your leg, arm, or neck.

For these moments, a sigh, roll of the eyes and calm quiet re-direction can diffuse the rising frustration.
Yes, rushing a toddler is like trying to push a cloud--so enjoy the moments of pine cone collection, you will miss those days. The psuedo-pain vocalization is a well-timed trick to see how you respond. One therapist admitted that she's more worried about the kids who never say anything about their parents hurting them. They often hide their true bruises.

Lastly, treasure those secret embraces and moments of private affection. They're only for you and they are the little gifts that you will be blessed with for only a short while.


Relax, mommies, You've got this.

Back to school: Feeling empty

Dear Mommies,

Feeling empty?

It’s that time of year and many of you have had to let go of your babies in one way or another. Whether you’ve just finished driving your “baby” out to the college campus of her choice or you’re dropping your angel off at pre-school, you may feel like something is missing or lost.

In her book, A View from Saturday, E.L. Konigsburg’s wise character, Mr Singh explains why a teacher is feeling a sense of loss after her students win a final academic victory. He points out that we cannot experience missing something if we’ve never held it close in the first place. He also explains to the teacher that she and her students are on a journey. 

And you Dear Mommies are also that teacher. You have been in preparation for the special days of “First’s.” First day of kindergarten. First day of High School. First Day of college. All that work, all your blood, sweat and tears end with each milestone. You celebrate them briefly and prepare for the next, until one by one all your firsts are gone. There's a victory and a sadness with each achievement.

Sure, you can take pictures of the bus, the prom, the college graduation. But the instant is impossible to relive. So, stop, inhale, seal the memory in your heart. Your child is on a journey with you and you need to appreciate every day. And teach your child to savor every victory.

Relax Dear Mommies, you’ve got this.

One Great Mommy

Dear Mommies,

I want to reflect on the life of my sister-in-law. We buried her recently—her body, not her spirit. She battled cancer for 22 years. Almost as soon as she graduated from college, she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. But it didn’t stop her.

She worked; managing an office. She married her college sweetheart. She adopted two boys. She became involved in school and her neighborhood. She vacationed with her parents nearly every summer at the family shore house. She travelled and celebrated life. Her home was beautiful and welcoming—much like herself.

She endured round after round of chemo. She lost and regrew her hair at least 5 times, that I can recall. She lost the possibility of ever becoming pregnant. Because of the medications she took, her body was plunged into menopause at age 30. She endured hot flashes and night sweats. She had issues with a poorly designed implant, infections in sinuses and teeth and an IV port that nearly caused congestive heart failure. She had tumors in her liver, bone and brain. One year, she spent more time in medical centers and hospitals than she spent at home.

She toughed it out. 

Put cancer on the back burner of her mind. She hosted Thanksgiving dinner and holiday parties with and without hair. And each time it grew back, she became more beautiful. She attended school plays, sporting events and recitals. She attended the weddings and graduations of her nieces, nephews and her one son. She was given the blessings of her delightful, albeit mischievous boys, who kept her on her toes. A husband who was able to manage the demands of his job, his sons and her care. A mother and father who were at the ready to drive her to chemo or just hold her hand from the vomiting to the blistering heartburn. A sister who always managed a sunny, but practical attitude--in life, love and food. Friends and neighbors that always dropped in to find out who needed what—a ride to lacrosse practice, a dozen cupcakes, a snow shovel, a stamp for a letter, a shoulder to cry on.

We didn’t lose her spirit. As her 9-year-old son told his aunt: “I’m sorry you are sad. But my mommy is with me.”