Every Day Is Mother’s Day

It was 19 years ago, but I still remember it like it was yesterday.  I was sitting in a a wheelchair, riding down in a hospital elevator, my newborn son cradled in my lap.  My husband stood behind me hyperventilating.  “Don’t you give us a video or an owner’s manual or something?” he asked.  Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.  “Are you really going to let us out of here with a baby and no instructions?”  The nurse efficiently wheeled us out of the hospital and, after checking the safety of the infant car seat, loaded us into the car.  No doubt she’d seen this kind of behavior many times before and wanted to get back to safety before my husband totally freaked out.  “Good luck!” she called.

Good luck?!  And so began my journey into motherhood.  And it is a journey.  One without a manual, a video, or a road map.  It’s strictly on-the-job-training for this gig.

Throughout these 19 years of Mommydom,I’ve learned a few things.  Well, a lot of things.  For instance, once a garbanzo bean goes up the nose, it usually requires a medical professional to get it back out.  If a child flings a pacifier, it will hit the only person in the room never to have a child of their own.  Poop does come in many colors.  The three second rule is proportional to a child’s birth order.  And, kids will exhaust you physically when they are young, while they exhaust you mentally when they get older.  (We’ve had many examples of this in the past few days!)

I’ve also learned that the sound of a child’s laughter is a balm to the soul.  A sticky hand is magical if held in yours.  There is no sight more precious than a peacefully sleeping child.  And, I can never hear “Mommy, I love you”  enough times.

But, the most significant thing I’ve learned is that being a mom is 24/7/365.  BK (before kids) I believed I could do it all and having kids would be just another one of those things I juggled in my life.  Yeah, hard to believe with all those advanced degrees I could be that naive.   The fact is, whether you want it to or not, mothering your kids becomes the most important thing in your life.  It’s a fact of nature that can’t be altered.

I also used to believe the whole “mother’s intuition” thing was just a bit of hogwash.  But when I became a mom, my “spidey sense” became so well-honed my kids live in fear of it.  (And my husband secretly envies it!)

The Mommy Wars are heating up again, thanks to the political, talking heads on television.  I’ve been on both sides of the battle lines:  a working mother of two and an at-home mom of two.  Wanna know the truth?  Neither scenario is perfect.  The fact of the matter is, we are all “full time moms” whether we work outside the home or in it, so what’s the issue?  Let’s stop the nonsense.  Tell the talking heads to put down their broomsticks and let’s work together for the good of the kids instead of tearing each other down.

My message to all moms this Mother’s Day—and every day—is simple: go easy on yourselves.  Whether you’re a working mom or you stay at home, give yourself a break. There is no right or wrong way here.  You, or your child, do not have to be perfect.  Turn off your inner Tiger Mom and enjoy the moment. You’ll be glad you did!  (If you don’t believe we are all Tiger Mom’s, sit yourself down at any competitive event pitting kids against one another and listen!)

My dear friend shared something on Facebook this week that I want to close with.  Her post is worthy because she also happens to be a fabulous mom.  In fact, she first introduced herself to me as my son’s future mother-in-law.  Sadly, her daughter has wised up because my son should be so lucky!

Pay particular attention to number 25.

Excerpt from The Gifts of Imperfection , by Brene Brown:

1. We need to change what we say and what we allow to be said in front of us.

2. There are infinite numbers of do overs for your teen girls.

3. The most powerful teaching moments are the ones where you screw up.

4. Do you light up when your kids are coming in the room or do you become the instant critic?

5. If we own the story then we can write the ending.

6. Every time you watch the Jersey Shore, a book commits suicide.

7. You need at least one friend who will help you move a body. No judgment. There in a second. No explanation.

8. Midlife: when the Universe grabs your shoulders and tells you “I’m not f-ing around, use the gifts you were given.”

9. We have to be women we want our daughters to be.

10. Talk to yourself like you would to someone you love.

11. It’s no longer a question of can I do it. It’s a question of: Do I want to do it?

12. There’s nothing more daring than showing up, putting ourselves out there and letting ourselves be seen.

13. In our moments of most intense joy, we realize how vulnerable we are.

14. You either walk inside your story and own it or you stand outside your story & hustle for your worthiness.

15. What would you be glad that you did…. EVEN if you failed?

16. We are sick and tired of being sick and tired.. Definition of courage: Tell your story with all your heart.

17. We cannot give our children what we don’t have.

18. You are imperfect & you are wired for struggle; but you are worthy of love & belonging.

19. Vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage.

20. Talk about your failures without apologizing.

21. It’s not about “what can I accomplish?” but “what do I want to accomplish?” Paradigm shift.

22. Think about what’s pleasurable, not just what’s possible.

23. Those who have a strong sense of love and belonging have the courage to be imperfect.

24. You can’t dress rehearse the bad moments.

25. Want to be happy? Stop trying to be perfect.

Happy Mother’s Day to all!

Literally, it’s overused.

My husband is on the warpath.  He’s launched a campaign to rid society’s everyday lexicon of a particular adverb:  literally.  Okay, he’s not literally painting his face, wielding a flaming pair of scissors and exorcising every dictionary of mention of “literally”.  He’s just obnoxiously calling anyone out when they use the word.

Now, until he initiated this tirade, I was oblivious to the actual overuse of the adverb in daily conversation.  But after opening my ears a bit, I see his point. During a three hour span one morning, I heard the word “literally” used nine times by either radio or television talking heads. I won’t name names, but Matt Lauer, can you pull out the thesaurus?

Not only is it frequently used, but, often times, its use is redundant. Anyone of those offenders would take the quotation marks out of the third sentence in the previous paragraph and use it as is. See what I mean?

Last night, my daughter’s trainer was attempting to explain why the horse was jumping the way he was.  She said: “You literally have to hold your hand this way to give the horse direction.”  Did she need the word “literally”?  Nope. My daughter wouldn’t want to figuratively hold her hands a certain way, would she?  So why does the word creep in when someone is giving directions or recounting an actual event that literally happened?  Beats me.  But it’s become the adverb du jour and no one—aside from my husband and perhaps the ghost of Ernest Hemingway–seems to mind it’s over usage.  In fact, people tend to want to embellish their thoughts with as much extra verbiage as possible.  Maybe they think it makes them sound smart.

Hey, I’ve got nothing against a little verbose language.  It beats the teenage shoulder shrug or eye roll any day.  In fact, I’m a big wordsmith.  I love introducing synonyms throughout my writing so as not to over use a particular word.  Unlike my husband, I don’t get easily peeved at a preponderance of adverbs.  It’s usually the word “like” that sends me ranting.  I thought I had purged my son of his “valley speak” years ago; but, then he went to college, and this ugly habit of punctuating every other word with “like” has come roaring back.

My daughter goes through phases with “catch phrase” words.  A few years ago, everything was “epic”.  Now days, the world is “totally ironic”.  I think it’s  totally ironic that she doesn’t get it when I call her Alanis. I literally laugh until I cry.

What about you?  Are there any frequently used popular phrases or words that annoy you?

One Woman’s Junk…..

It started out innocently enough.  I needed a piece of tape to seal an overstuffed envelope.  As usual, the tape dispenser that normally sits atop my kitchen work station has disappeared—most likely to the Diva’s room.  Of course, a journey into her room is like venturing into the black hole of death.  No worries, I bought a four pack of tape the last time I was in the office supply store.  I’m sure there’s a roll here somewhere.  First stop:  the junk drawer.  (Cue the ominous music.)

Yeah, there’s a reason it’s called the junk drawer.  I actually need a crow bar to get the dang thing open, it’s so crammed full of “junk”.  And so begins an hour of sorting, marveling at, and throwing away the contents of the drawer.  The first thing to greet me is a tangle of power cords—nine of them!  I don’t even know what electronic equipment half of them belong to.  “Don’t throw them out!” my family screams at me.  “We might need them for something.”  Of course, no one is willing to take the time to figure out which cord belongs to what.

There were two cell phones amid the cords.  Both of them my castoffs.  No one to blame for this but myself.  I put them in the bag of donations my son is taking to Haiti in July.  Buried among the hundreds of loose rubber bands, paper clips and safety pins is a set of keys.   Sadly, I have no idea what lock they might fit.  I try every door with no success.  Again, my husband tells me not to throw them out.  He’ll figure out who’s they are as soon as he untangles the cords.  Back in the drawer they go.  Right next to the tangle of cords.

Hiding between the twenty or so wallet photos of both my kids and various nieces and nephews and friends, is a $25 gift card for Blockbusters. Hmm.  A little late for that.  “Don’t throw it away!” my son pleads. “I might be able to use it online.”  Right.

There are four tubes of Krazy Glue.  Those darn things are so small, I can never find one when I need it, and so I run out and buy another whenever I break something.  Which happens a lot.  The drawer also has two calculators with dead batteries and flashlight with no batteries.  That would be really helpful in a power outage.   A spool of white thread has unraveled and is tangled amidst all the other junk in the drawer.  Several loose buttons keep it company.  An assortment of small tools is also hiding back in the dark recesses of the drawer: pliers, several wrenches, screwdrivers, an Exacto knife and those funny garbage disposal thingies.

My favorite find, though, is a monkey from the game Barrel of Monkeys.  It’s been years since my kids played this game, and definitely not in this house.  The sight of the little blue plastic monkey brings me back to the days when my kids were young and there junk was constantly interspersed with mine.  I miss those days.  At the time, it seemed like my house would forever be filled with their clutter.  Now, they’re pretty good about keeping it confined to their rooms.

What didn’t I find in the junk drawer?  Yep. Tape.  I could use several of the gold seals stuck to the side of the drawer, but they aren’t big enough.  Up to the Black Hole I go.  A few minutes in there and I’m sure I’ll no longer feel nostalgic about having my kids’ junk all over my house!

What about you?  What’s in your junk drawer?

$$ Dreaming Big $$

Have you got yours yet?  No, I’m not talking about tickets to the Hunger Games.  I’m talking Mega Millions, baby.  Tonight could be the night this country’s largest every lottery jackpot is paid out.  As of yesterday, the jackpot stood at $540 million—or a measly $389 million if you pick the cash option.  Either way, it will be history making and life changing for the winner or winners.

I’m not a regular lottery player.  Occasionally, I’ll pick up some scratch off tickets as gifts for the hard to buy for uncle, cousin, or my husband.  But, I’m only willing to throw away $10 on the lotto when the jackpot reaches a ridiculous level.   After all, the odds of winning are about one in 175 million.  I’m not sure, but I think the odds might be even less if you actually know someone who’s won the lottery, which I do.  A close college friend.  Of course, another close friend from college was struck by lightning which just goes to show we were probability busters.

The ten dollars I spent on tickets isn’t too much of a waste, though.  It has provided my daughter and me with endless entertainment spending our imaginary cha-ching.  My 14-year-old isn’t too greedy.  She just wants to buy a $13 million horse farm and, maybe, to hire someone to clean her room. She’ll clean her own stall, thank you.

What would I do with all that cash?  Well, I’m pretty keen on my daughter’s plan for the room cleaner.  Except I’d like him or her to clean the whole house.  Every day.  In fact, I’d probably have multiple houses that need cleaning.  And I’d travel.  All over.  My friends would have to come, too, so I’d have someone to hang out with.  I’d also probably buy a really nice car.   And, someone to drive me in the dark.

The best part of having all that money would be giving it away.  I know some children in Haiti who’d get first dibs. A nursing home in Maryland would be next.  The Interstitial Cystitis Association would never have to pander to Congress for research funding.  It would be a full-time job just donating the money to worthy causes.  Hmm…probably have to hire someone for that.

What would you do if you won the lottery?

Chewing Gum: A Dieter’s Best Friend

I’m battling the sagging middle.  And not just the one in my work-in-progress.  I’m talking about middle age and all the junk that goes with it.  Well, mostly the extra 15 pounds of junk clinging to my middle.  Where did it come from?  Strike that.  I know exactly where it came from.

I have a confession to make:  I’m a bit of a stress eater.  Okay, I’m a big stress eater.  Candy, cookies, cupcakes; you name it, I want it.  Especially when I’m writing.  While other writers spend their “mind breaks” (translation:  writer’s block) surfing the internet or stalking their old high school boyfriend via Facebook, I’m pulling out the mixer and baking up a batch of Toll House Cookies.  Not for me. Of course not.  I’ll send them to my son at college.

Public Disclaimer:  Before my son rat’s me out, I have sent him cookies this year.  Twice.  The others were of such an inferior quality that I had to get rid of them.  I’m just not saying how.

I do exercise.  But these last few months haven’t been that productive what with a hinky disc in my back and now the fiberglass claw I have to wear on my broken wrist.  I manage three miles in 40 minutes each day on the treadmill, but that hasn’t been enough to combat my hibernating metabolism.

So I’ve resorted to drastic measures:  I’m dieting.  Yes, I’ve returned to the land of weights, measures, and counting points.  Weight Watchers is effective.  And, a lot more fun now that I have an iPhone.  So far this month, I’ve lost 5 lbs.  Okay, it’s not really lost.  That five pounds is actually sitting on the candy aisle at my grocery store in the form of a five pound bag of M&M’s, but I’m resisting temptation.  So far.

And I owe it all to chewing gum.  Now while I write, I chomp on a big ol’ wad of gum.  Hey, at least my jaw is getting a workout.  And my dentist need not worry, it’s sugarless and the whitening kind.  Yeah, I know, pathetic, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

What’s your favorite snack when you write?