Givers and Takers

Recently, I learned that as much as I want to believe otherwise, most people are either givers or takers. Very few can be considered both. Even when we try our best to be aware of our classification and get balanced, it's tough. Some people just are who they are, and mainly because someone trained them that way. It's the sad truth. I was a born giver. It was always easy to take advantage of me. Unfortunately, it happened so often that I became hardened, cynical. I quickly decided I would become a taker. Well, that just didn't fit and I felt like a despicable human being. So now, I try to give and take with some balance, humility, gratitude, and an open heart. Challenging as it may be, I work on it. I do my best to stay true to my core. Maybe that's why it never gets easier to swallow the pill of a recognized taker.

Over Talk

No, I am not a believer in over talking with one's children. I will not lean down and softly ask my sons how they feel about having to stop playing outside and come in for a bath. I don't care. It's bath time.  Maybe my opinion will change as they get older. But, right now, I don't much care about their arguments for whatever it is they want or don't want for that matter. I am a parent, not a friend. Sure, I love New Age thinking and am working on being a mindful thinker/parent. However, sometimes the law is just the law. No room for a five year old to negotiate. He is not the boss. I am! Often times though, he thinks he is in charge. He thinks I "need" to do things and explain things, etc. He's a little attorney in the making, and I don't think it's cute at all.  His toddler brother is already following in his footsteps. I think the world has taught my five and three years olds a sense of entitlement that they have not even come close to earning. It's beyond frustrating.  Nope. I cannot accept this. I don't ever recall my parents explaining much to me. Basically, I obeyed just because. Plain and simple. Yes, that pissed me off and by my teens, I rolled my eyes and almost kinked my neck for good as I expressed my new found attitude. Luckily for everyone involved, that was just a temporary, albeit destructive, stage.

Don't knee jerk a judgement. Hear me out. I absolutely want to know how my son's day was in kindergarten. I want him to feel safe and unconditionally loved. It's imperative I develop open communication with both of my little guys now so that it transfers into the future when the day's events carry much more weight than what Ben, Josh, or Sarah brought in for share-day. Right now at this moment though, he may not have minutes added to his playtime on the iPad. If he argues or gives me his emphatic "no!" as I reach for the iPad, I will be forced to snatch it mid game. Here's the truth, the hardest part about parenting is being consistent. Some days, survival means that he gets five more minutes on the iPad.  Damn, I gave in.  The good news is that he gets to live to see another day though, right?!

Own It

So, here's the thing about growing up; aging, one hopes she is actually attaining some wisdom. You hope that your collective experiences from joy to utter heartbreak have made you stronger without being bitter. You pray that you won't make the same mistakes, cling to the past, or feel "stuck" when it comes to personal growth and progress. For me, I struggle with a myriad of "issues", but I am proud to say, I am excellent at "owning it". It being all my shit. See, I am introspective, and probably altogether way too critical of myself.  But, this allows me to truly study myself. I do it too often, and should do it more like a periodic audit. However, I just can't resist the urge to reflect. I wouldn't say that I am self centered, but I am definitely someone who believes we are here to learn. That includes learning about oneself. The good, the bad, and the ugly. The dark and the light.

Want to know what's irritating beyond my scope of patience? People who don't own their shit. Seriously, how can some people live their lives being the victim and pointing out everyone else's stuff while never claiming their own? And, it's always clear as day that they are carrying baggage way too heavy for themselves. You would think they'd want to lighten their load even if that means being accountable for some of their own choices, deficiencies, and happily taking credit for their greatness. Right?

Here I am full circle, back to me. I canvass my triggers, my flaws, my weaknesses, and hopefully my strengths as well. And, after I beat myself up for my inadequacies, I take a deep breath and work harder at being kind to myself. That's more of a challenge than it seems. Here's the great news, I owned my shit for the day, took stock, and can start fresh the next morning with some new found knowledge, and a tiny bit of wisdom.

My Sons

You started as a dream,
Then to my womb you grew.
The next thing I knew, you moved,
womb and heart became one.
I live for you and all you'll become.
Intertwined from beginning to end.
Now, here you are in the flesh,
A little being of your own.
I watch you.
I watch you as you sleep, 
Yours is the soundest,
With even, deep breathing.
Your innocence cradled in a blankie,
Hand interlocked with lovey,
Dreaming dreams of Sesame Street, butterflies, and slides.
You are my most precious things.
I watch you.
I watch you as you play,
Discovering things I've long since known,
Yet, in a way all your own.
You see it through eyes, ears, and imagination untainted.
Goodness in your every fiber.
You are purity in its truest form.
For you, I act the fool.
Because of you, I stay humbled.
Singing songs, making silly faces, jumping high, and dancing low,
Blowing kisses and rolling hugs, far from cool.

The years roll by faster than I expect.
It's some kind of insane test!
Good days and bad, put on a scale,
this isn't your average math.
Surprisingly, the rewards and joy outweigh the rest.
 
Now, thinking of only your future and hoping life starts to move in slow-mo
You are the core of my life.
I try never to look back to before...
My love for you is the kind that makes wars 
So fierce and extreme.
A love like none I've ever known.
My heart and soul are swollen with emotion.
I'd die for you, and kill for you in less than a blink of the eye.
You are the reason I was born, my mind is blown.
You give purpose new meaning, 
So this life, my life is aglow.

The umbilical cord never really cut.
Impossible to articulate or define,
This thing called motherhood.
For you, I'd give everything else up.
Make sealed deals with the devil if need be.
Bleed dry with nothing but love in my eyes.
You and your brother pluck the strings of my heart 
--until I take my final breath.

A Quick Thought on Expectations

Expectations are not our enemies. There is not an inherent negative connotation with the word nor the weight it holds. But, it can and has led to much disappointment for many. Whether the expectations are unrealistic or one simply cannot rise to meet or exceed them, sometimes they are at fault. However, I truly believe that more times than not, expectations are positive. It is crucial for people to grow and stretch, and having expectations to meet gives us all that opportunity. So, embrace expectations.

Life Is Not Fair. So?

Inequitable. Life is full of inequitability. In its simplest form, not everybody is created equal. Sure, we all deserve the same inalienable rights. But, let's not pretend we are all equal. I know I don't have Einstein's IQ or Oprah's talents. My children are sharp and good looking, but there are always going to be other children smarter and better looking. That's reality. Life isn't simple, is it? Life, everything about it, is complex. I am not even going to pretend that I am a "the cup is half full" kind of gal. If I want to be positive, an optimist if you will, it has to be by choice. I would need to consciously work hard at it. Some people are born with a cheery disposition and outlook. My mom is one of those people. I envy her. However, I'm not entitled to a positive attitude or anything else for that matter. Somewhere along the lines, people began to tie a sense of equitability to a sense of entitlement. I believe that's when we had a collective paradigm shift, and all shit hit the fan. If people who don't work think they are entitled to the same luxuries and do-dads as those that do work, there is something wrong with our collective conscience. Ultimately, this kind of entitled thinking will be our downfall. It's a difficult pill to swallow, but the playing field of life is not even or fair. So what? Everyone still has to show up and play. And, play fiercely. Play like you want to win!

Shame

Shame is as sickening a feeling as it is a fascinating subject of study. I think about all the ways I feel shame and about how early it started.  I am not on a couch in a therapist’s office and don’t want to peel back the layers right now. By the way, that’s not to say I haven’t been on that couch over the years. In fact, I think if we all had some therapy, the world would be a better place. However, I don’t have the time nor the inclination to get that deep right now. I do, though, have just enough of each plus some sass for stream of consciousness to flow.

It starts with our sexuality, and the shaming of females who have any sexual desire. Oh, and G-d forbid a girl in adolescence or young adulthood should masturbate. It's so silly and backward, yet society perpetuates the idea by calling girls "sluts", "whores", and so on. Yet, it's touted as so sexy for two women to make out. What? From fashion to music and beyond, women are shamed and humiliated. Mixed messages abound, and the  media fuels the fire. Society needs to make up its mind. Are we natural sexual beings or whores?

We grow up, and regardless of whether or not we have children, we then struggle with self image. Almost all of us have some shame associated with our bodies. Again, thanks to society and the media, if we don't fit the sex symbol mold of the most current "it girl", we are shrouded in shame. It's so demoralizing.

I don't like to play victim, so I am not doing this as the "woe is me" type rant. True, I am not thrilled with how my body has changed and settled into itself since I gave birth to my sons. However, I am the only one to blame for not embracing those changes and being more grateful for this body.  I have all my parts minus a bum thyroid that had to be removed, and they work well for the most part. And, this body gets me through each day. Somehow though, it's hard to accept oneself as is.  I think in most facets of our lives, we want more. Is society/media also to blame for that? Or are we just inherently greedy people?

There are few things truly worthy of shame. We really should reserve the right to use it, and use it thoughtfully.

Mistakes

Mistakes
       --the cobblestones of every journey
Destination
       -- does not a life make
Travel
Zig zag through the maze
Get lost along the way,
so that when you are found a sweet ride is the only thing left in your wake.
Drift in and out of dreams,
never quite drawing the line between.
Let go where & when you can.
Unburden your soul, so the light can shine through.
Stop to breathe and be true.
Start anew if you have to.
Wear the colors of your heart regardless if it suits you.
Shed your fears like old skin.
Try something new.
Get it out of your system.
Then, cleanse.

Openness

I am open. Not to be too cliché, but some would even describe me as an “open book”.  In obvious ways, I am warm, inviting, loud, fun-loving, bubbly, and wear my opinions and feelings on my sleeve. On the flip side, I can be harsh, knee-jerk, and nasty. I can shine, and I can also come in like clouds covering the sun for a brief time. When being honestly introspective, I know that most people either gravitate to me immediately, loving me, or repel, hating me. Vulnerability is a quirky thing. People have told me that they love how I say aloud what they are silently thinking. Others have told me that I need a filter or censor. I can’t even count the times I have been told I need to be more ladylike. What does that even mean? Ladies can’t have opinions? We should be demure and silent, looking clean and pretty at all times? Nope. Not me. I know I could use some softening around the rough edges, but that takes tools I have yet to acquire.  Good thing I am not quite midlife and have kids and time. Both force me to step outside of myself. Growth, that’s what it’s about.

It’s taken me years of soul searching and tons of self-acceptance to tell you from the bottom of my heart; depths of my soul that I truly don’t care one way or another what people think when they see me. The most important thing is that we are all seen. Sure, most of us like to be liked. And, when I was a young girl, I was a people pleaser. I worked almost too hard to be liked, adored, and accepted. I wanted to make my mom (&my dad, too, at times) happy, and felt it was my duty to make life easier for others. Then, I grew up and realized it’s challenge enough to do that for oneself.  So, here I am. Complicated me. I am blessed with a fairly large circle of close, authentic, trust worthy, unconditional friends/family and they sustain me. I am one of the lucky ones. Therefore, it doesn’t phase me what others think.  

Here’s the thing about openness; vulnerability, it’s risky. Once you get past the risk to oneself, you have to think about those you love and who love you. They may not be comfortable with your level of openness. This is a conundrum. How can you be completely true to self while still being considerate of someone else’s feelings and comfort level? This is where I find myself struggling…

Justification Makes Sense to Someone

“Mason, stop! Come here. It’s your birthday, you have to listen to me!”

What the fuck? How does that make sense to my 5 year old?  I have no idea. But, somehow he justifies it. He bosses his brother around daily making up rules to games and then changing them on a dime. Then, abuses Mason when things don’t go his way or according to his rules. I listen to this craziness wondering at what point I should step in and correct this behavior. So many times, I want to just let nature happen. Survival of the fittest. But, I know that my little one can’t hold his own just yet. Maybe it’s because I am the youngest, or maybe it’s because I am so sick of my older son bullying my baby, but I long for the day that my youngest kicks the shit out of his older brother. Do other moms hope for that same day to arrive in their homes? Instead, I go in after a few minutes. I do the “right” thing. I help them sort it out. I help them make better choices.

Human nature is a funny thing. We all justify things, and usually to our benefit. Right? We walk through life, actually most of us run with our heads down or staring at some piece of technology. We make decisions this way. It’s asinine. Then, regardless of whether the decisions are right or wrong, we justify them. Ha! Better yet, we justify our children’s actions, especially the wrong ones. Well, I work hard not to do this. I take every opportunity possible to show my kids their poor choices and how to make better ones. But, I am so far from perfect it’s scary. With that being said though, there is nothing more irritating than a mom who allows her child to make a stupid; blatantly wrong choice. You can just see the trajectory of that child’s life going straight into the toilet. Listen, being a parent is the toughest job out there and it’s best not to judge someone else but rather focus on oneself and how we can do better ourselves, but come on. Don’t we all know at least one clown who really needs parenting classes? See, how I justified that name calling judgment? It was easy. It has always been easy for me to give in to the negative despite being innately sweet. I want to turn over a new leaf. A positive one. That might be a challenge for me. I’d better work on that starting now…

A Raw Introduction

I am a mom of two sons. They are 5.5 and 3 years old.  They are full of testosterone. I am in the trenches. Like you, I love and adore my sons. Like you, I would do anything for them. Perhaps unlike you, I have a mouth like a truck driver, will not enable them, do not think they can do ‘no-wrong’, hate helicopter moms, and believe a stiff drink can take the edge off when you want to drop the “f” bomb in their faces as they run around the dinner table at night when you would like to have one family dinner in peace!

Two free hours! This is the first time in five years that I will have some time to myself that does not involve someone else watching my kids so that I can go to a doctor’s appointment or substitute teach to help the family financials. My sons are in summer school together for a total of 3 hours, 3 days a week. They are safe and having fun. I trust and love their teachers and environment. I can breathe.

What do I do? After getting myself a cherished half vanilla, half hazelnut latte from the Coffee Bean, ordering a small cake for my second son’s 3^rd birthday (tomorrow), I head home. Next, I send an email regarding swim lessons. I make reservations to bring the family Honda Odyssey in for three recalls and a B1 service. Then, I think. Do I go for a walk because I desperately need to lose a few pounds? Should I do more laundry and housework along with prepping dinner because it’s efficient? Shall I watch a Tivoed show that’s been sitting on the t.v. for months? Do I crawl into bed and allow exhaustion to have a home for a short time? Guilt is gnawing. Time is ticking.

Mommy blog! That’s what I’ve wanted to do for some time now. But who really needs to read about one more mom’s thoughts about life and motherhood? No one really. Fuck it though. This is my platform. This is my venting place. My sanctuary to be raw, vulnerable, uncensored, and completely me yet strangely anonymous. Those who know me will hardly be surprised. There is still room on the World Wide Web, right? Isn’t that why so many of us gravitate to this? Oh, and ego. Some will claim it’s to give sage advice and be selfless, others will corner a catchy niche or angle. I am simply looking for catharsis. Plain, real, and selfish.

Did I mention I am a high school English teacher by trade? Long before I received a BA, Master’s degree and teaching credentials, I loved writing just for the sake of writing. I have a bag of some ten or more diaries. I keep a small journal in my car in case I have to pull over for a poem to spill out. Another two journals are in my nightstand drawer so I can write to my boys. They can read my loving thoughts of them when they are grown men.  Writing is a craft, and it takes time and effort. I have lazy days, and days I have to work hard. Regardless, I love it. Words run through my veins like blood cells.

Today is the day. Today is my day. Today I must set aside some time for words because I have lost so much of myself.

Okay, laundry is tumbling. Now that I am multi-tasking, I can write somewhat guilt-free, right? As the cursor blinks, no yells at me, to get started, I don’t know where to begin. It’s a race against the clock, my nemesis. Once you become a mom, everything changes. But, not in the ways you thought, dreamt, hoped, and imagined. After you get married, and discover you are pregnant, you may feel so blessed and hopeful like I did. I wanted to be a mom more than anything, and for as long as I can remember to boot. I had it all planned out. I even played out the many scenes with my Barbies thousands of times! Society helps create the image in our little girl minds and it’s so pretty, isn’t it?

Most of us have a great baby shower, and as the birth date approaches we have normal fears and anxieties, but we are filled with such excitement. When our little “bundle of joy” arrives one way or another, an avalanche hits our lives. We become moms.  It’s a secret society where so much is unspoken because of a myriad of emotions that roll over you, consume you, and sometimes engulf you like a spider web tangling your soul, clipping your wings, and squeezing your heart til it bleeds unnaturally. Though every story and its details are different, so much of it is the same.

It’s bizarre how many things we sugar coat. I wonder why we do that. Do we do it for ourselves or for others? Is it inherently kind or cruel? Survival.

Before I blink, it’s time to grab my keys and hop in my mini van and pick up the boys from summer school. Side note: I used to drive an Acura TL with tinted windows. It was fast and I played my music loudly and let the wind tangle my hair. It felt like freedom! I loved it. Anyway, my short two hours of silence and peace have come to a rapid close.  Not much got done. Frustration and depression have set in, again. Let me slip back into my two main roles: servant and referee. Does that make me sound callous and horrible? It’s reality.  I have to find some solace in believing it’s “temporary”. If I am lucky, I will get to see one episode of The Orange is the New Black tonight…