I wonder if there really is some amount of truth in the thoughts of genetics playing a role in eating disorders. I mean, it can't all be the crazy messages of false beauty because everyone hears them but not everyone gets trapped in the dark world of eating disorders. Majority of the women that I talk to are trapped by the messages that their bodies are not good enough, pretty enough or small enough. But majority of the women I know do not end up starving themselves or purging their ingested nutrients. Is it possible that like other diseases that there are physical factors that make one more susceptible to an eating disorder?
I have been walking through some big and often scary things with one of my children. I have only one who I worry about as far as food issues go. I have one who has for years now been more sensitive about food, body size and weight than is probably normal or healthy for his age. This is the child who sometimes refuses to eat, claiming he isn't really hungry. This is the child who talks about losing weight. This is the child who talks about one day diets. This is the child who sometimes mentions that he feels a little lighter that day. This is the child who we are specific in not mentioning pants sizes with because he is an average waist size but his brother is a slim sized pant. This is the child who the pediatrician specifically has told me to keep an eye on his habits and behaviors to make sure that if he starts sliding down that path that we can help him before it is too late and he is trapped.
Recently he had a school assignment that involved writing about why healthy breakfast is important. He really struggled with it. As I dug a little deeper I discovered that he doesn't believe that any breakfast is important at all much less healthy breakfast. We read articles online about breakfast. One headline caught his eye about how eating breakfast can help you lose weight. He looked me dead in the eye and said, "Mom, that doesn't even make sense. Eating food is what makes you fat." A part of me died when he said that and I knew I had a lot of work ahead of me.
I helped him look up articles about metabolism, breakfast, fueling the body. We looked at many that were geared directly toward the nutrition that children need to grow and to feed their brains. I could see him finally starting to accept some of the information but that didn't happen until we hit WebMD. That was the only site he was willing to trust somewhat, albeit reluctantly, because actual doctors wrote the articles and did the video interviews. For three hours we read and talked and hung out together discussing what we had learned. He finally had enough of an arsenal that he felt like he could do the assignment.
Later in the kitchen he was writing and he informed me that his friend's parent probably don't know the same information that he had just learned. I asked why and he told me that that these particular parents are on a diet and trying to lose weight. He said that they usually skip breakfast because the other two meals they have planned for the day are too high in calories and they don't want to go over their amount of calories or they won't lose weight.
WHAT?????? Are you freakin kidding me????? Why on earth would you say stuff like that to children? What part of that sounds like information that growing children need to think about? My kids are growing. They NEED the nutrition. Their bones and muscles need to grow and develop. Their brains need to be able to grow, to learn, to be healthy. And all of that includes them EATING. Why do adults talk about their diets to children? Ugh, it made me feel a little sick to my stomach. I'm not blaming them for my son's views on food. I am however annoyed that they fueled a fire that has already been trying to gain ground for a long time now. I know it was unknowingly done, but I still don't understand talking with kids about diets. It is information that they simply do not need, they need to concentrate on growing up not on losing weight.
I'm sure that you know this, I went to bed emotionally drained and at a loss for words that night.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
talking to my kids about Sandy Hook
http://longdaysareshortyears.blogspot.com/2012/12/in-which-i-finally-acknowledge-tragedy.html
Being a parent is hard. Here's the link to how we talked to our kids about the recent shooting
Being a parent is hard. Here's the link to how we talked to our kids about the recent shooting
Monday, December 17, 2012
What I learned from helping my son
My baby has been struggling. For several months he has randomly started crying and telling me he is sad. Recently it is becoming more and more frequent. He never knows why he is sad or what is causing him to go from laughing to crying in a matter of minutes. As the girl who did deal with childhood depression, I worry. The other day he climbed in my lap, stroked my hair and said, "Mamma, I'm just sad."
I have no answers or cures for him. But I happen to be struggling with the same thing currently so I hugged him tightly and told him that I get sad for no reason sometimes too. I grabbed my Bible that I had been reading before he came in and read Philippians 4:4-8 to him.
I have no answers or cures for him. But I happen to be struggling with the same thing currently so I hugged him tightly and told him that I get sad for no reason sometimes too. I grabbed my Bible that I had been reading before he came in and read Philippians 4:4-8 to him.
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!
We can choose to have joy.
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.
God is near us, Baby.
Do not be anxious about anything,
That means we aren't supposed to worry.
but in everything, by prayer and petition,
with thanksgiving, present your request to God.
And the peace of God which transcends all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
That means that God gives us peace in our hearts that is bigger than our brains can understand.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true,
whatever is noble,
whatever is right,
whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely
whatever is admirable
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy
think on these things.
Baby, that means that God wants us to spend our time thinking about the things
in our lives that we are thankful for, for the blessings He gives us, and every good thing.
Tell me something you are thankful for, something that makes you smile. "I don't know, Mamma. I can't think of anything." Well, I can tell you something that makes me smile. You make me smile. I'm thankful for you. Now it is your turn.
You.
Coffee in my Christmas mug.
My monkeys.
That our heater works.
Playing with my friends at recess.
Hugs and kisses.
Brothers.
The conversation continued for several minutes. And then his sweet voice says, "Mamma, I still feel sad." I know, Baby. We will still get sad sometimes. What we need to do is hold on to those things we are thankful for, those things that make us smile, until the sadness passes. And at some point the sadness will pass. Hold on to those good things until the sadness passes.
I don't know how long it will be until my sadness passes, but I will continue to greet the day with intentional thankfulness until the sadness passes. I will continue to hold on to the things that are true, noble, worthy of praise and trust that God is indeed near and that He will indeed guard my heart and mind with His peace.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
attack of the voices
not feeling well. two of three kids are sick, like fevers and wicked cough kind of sick. struggling today. my voices informed me that Hubby is a better mom than I have ever been. he cleans and keeps up with the housework that I have never ever been able to. there is no searching through piles of laundry to find school clothes anymore. the longest the dishes have been behind was one day and that was due to sickness. somehow he can do everything that I couldn't when I was the one home all day. that was the last and most devastating of a string of attacking thoughts. and now I'm going to go cry to bed and hope tomorrow sounds less painful in my head.
Monday, October 15, 2012
walking throught the muck with my kids
Friday the news broke that the body they found was indeed the body of the missing little girl. Friday my son spent the night at a friends house. Friday the friend's mom told my son that the girl had been found. Friday she told him that the body had been dismembered. Saturday I had to pick up the pieces of a very broken little boy.
Wouldn't you think that maybe it isn't ok to tell other people's kids big news like that? Or maybe send me a text if he was asking questions to ask if I minded if she talked to him about it? Or at minimum, TELL ME that she talked to him so that I know what he knows so I have a starting point when he breaks down in my arms?
We believe that our kids should hear from us whenever possible the things they need to know. We tell our kids hard things because we want to be able to help them process their emotions in a safe place. We would have talked about this with him. We talked to our kids about the theater shooting. We talked about the little girl being missing and the reasons we have certain outside rules in place. We talk about sex and answer uncomfortable questions. We answer all of their questions when we are asked, even if the answer, like this time, is "I don't know. I don't understand either."
Maybe that is why it made me angry that someone else handled it. I know it will get talked about at school. My son is in the same age range as the little girl was. He and his friends have been talking about it. I just wanted him to hear the big part from me and dad. I wanted him to be in a safe place that he could completely loose his temper and punch his pillow and scream and cry and do all of the things that he did when he got home to the safety of his room. I wanted to be there to hold him when he asked through his sobs why someone would do that.
This morning I asked his little brother what they talk about at school. He told me at lunch that they talk about the bad guy who broke into the theater. He told me they talk about the missing girl. I told him the missing girl was found, that someone had hurt her, that someone had killed her. He asked me why that person would steal her if they were just going to kill her. I told him I don't know. He doesn't have the same details that his big brother has. He doesn't need the same details that his big brother has. But he knows that he can ask us questions if he has them. He knows home is a safe place to feel what you need to feel. But it isn't affecting him in the same way as it is affecting his brother.
This parenting stuff is hard. Helping my kids to feel the emotions that they need to feel and to walk alongside of them as they process is important. It is also hard. I understand why some parents choose to not talk to their kids about issues. It is painful. It hurts to see pieces of your child's innocence taken away. It is a very helpless kind of feeling to have your son break down into gut wrenching sobs in your arms and know that you can't make it better. It is very humbling to have no words of comfort and to only be able to pray that the Lord will bring us His comfort.
Wouldn't you think that maybe it isn't ok to tell other people's kids big news like that? Or maybe send me a text if he was asking questions to ask if I minded if she talked to him about it? Or at minimum, TELL ME that she talked to him so that I know what he knows so I have a starting point when he breaks down in my arms?
We believe that our kids should hear from us whenever possible the things they need to know. We tell our kids hard things because we want to be able to help them process their emotions in a safe place. We would have talked about this with him. We talked to our kids about the theater shooting. We talked about the little girl being missing and the reasons we have certain outside rules in place. We talk about sex and answer uncomfortable questions. We answer all of their questions when we are asked, even if the answer, like this time, is "I don't know. I don't understand either."
Maybe that is why it made me angry that someone else handled it. I know it will get talked about at school. My son is in the same age range as the little girl was. He and his friends have been talking about it. I just wanted him to hear the big part from me and dad. I wanted him to be in a safe place that he could completely loose his temper and punch his pillow and scream and cry and do all of the things that he did when he got home to the safety of his room. I wanted to be there to hold him when he asked through his sobs why someone would do that.
This morning I asked his little brother what they talk about at school. He told me at lunch that they talk about the bad guy who broke into the theater. He told me they talk about the missing girl. I told him the missing girl was found, that someone had hurt her, that someone had killed her. He asked me why that person would steal her if they were just going to kill her. I told him I don't know. He doesn't have the same details that his big brother has. He doesn't need the same details that his big brother has. But he knows that he can ask us questions if he has them. He knows home is a safe place to feel what you need to feel. But it isn't affecting him in the same way as it is affecting his brother.
This parenting stuff is hard. Helping my kids to feel the emotions that they need to feel and to walk alongside of them as they process is important. It is also hard. I understand why some parents choose to not talk to their kids about issues. It is painful. It hurts to see pieces of your child's innocence taken away. It is a very helpless kind of feeling to have your son break down into gut wrenching sobs in your arms and know that you can't make it better. It is very humbling to have no words of comfort and to only be able to pray that the Lord will bring us His comfort.
Monday, October 8, 2012
sleepless nights
I didn't sleep well last night, I was really restless. Maybe it was because I didn't want to fall asleep because the night before I didn't sleep well either. The night before, I had a nightmare.
In this nightmare, I was in a house that apparently I was familiar with and I heard someone yelling. After a minute or so of hearing it, I realized that I didn't know where my youngest son was. I started looking around the house and realized finally that the yelling was someone yelling AT him. The yelling escalated to screaming at him. I was trying to get to him but suddenly there were boxes and piles of papers and clothes blocking the hallway and I couldn't get to him. The screaming escalated to hitting. The person was beating my son while he whimpered and cried and I couldn't get to him. I needed to protect my child and I couldn't get through the hallway to the room because more and more things were blocking my path. Finally I screamed, "NOOOOO!" and lunged but the stuff still held me back.
There is no worse feeling in the world than feeling like your kids need you and you can't help them. There is no worse feeling in the world than the one I had in my dream of listening to my son being hurt and not being able to stop it. Thankfully, Hubby was awake for some unknown reason. Apparently I whimpered and he woke me up. My son was safe. It was a dream. No one was hurting my family.
Now I will tell you the real reason it bothered me so much. The person hurting my son was someone who loves him. It was someone who he loves. It was someone who should never hurt him (and who in real life would NOT beat him). It was my mother who was attacking my son.
I know all of the psychological reasons that I had the dream. I was hurt and angry with my mom over something else that had happened in the day which is why she was the aggressor in my dream. And I feared for a few minutes for my sons safety at a pool party when he went into the restroom with another little boy who has before made a point of repeatedly showing his "man junk" to my son. The combination of wanting to protect my son and being hurt with my mother created this dream. I know that. It doesn't make it any less disturbing though.
My head hurts this morning. Probably from lack of sleep this weekend. I should be getting ready for work, instead I sit drinking coffee and typing. I wish to insulate my heart from the world, but mostly from my mom. I've been trying not to cry since yesterday morning. My heart is very troubled today. Pray for me today, friends. Pray for God to wrap His arms around me today and for Him to bring healing balm to my wounded heart.
In this nightmare, I was in a house that apparently I was familiar with and I heard someone yelling. After a minute or so of hearing it, I realized that I didn't know where my youngest son was. I started looking around the house and realized finally that the yelling was someone yelling AT him. The yelling escalated to screaming at him. I was trying to get to him but suddenly there were boxes and piles of papers and clothes blocking the hallway and I couldn't get to him. The screaming escalated to hitting. The person was beating my son while he whimpered and cried and I couldn't get to him. I needed to protect my child and I couldn't get through the hallway to the room because more and more things were blocking my path. Finally I screamed, "NOOOOO!" and lunged but the stuff still held me back.
There is no worse feeling in the world than feeling like your kids need you and you can't help them. There is no worse feeling in the world than the one I had in my dream of listening to my son being hurt and not being able to stop it. Thankfully, Hubby was awake for some unknown reason. Apparently I whimpered and he woke me up. My son was safe. It was a dream. No one was hurting my family.
Now I will tell you the real reason it bothered me so much. The person hurting my son was someone who loves him. It was someone who he loves. It was someone who should never hurt him (and who in real life would NOT beat him). It was my mother who was attacking my son.
I know all of the psychological reasons that I had the dream. I was hurt and angry with my mom over something else that had happened in the day which is why she was the aggressor in my dream. And I feared for a few minutes for my sons safety at a pool party when he went into the restroom with another little boy who has before made a point of repeatedly showing his "man junk" to my son. The combination of wanting to protect my son and being hurt with my mother created this dream. I know that. It doesn't make it any less disturbing though.
My head hurts this morning. Probably from lack of sleep this weekend. I should be getting ready for work, instead I sit drinking coffee and typing. I wish to insulate my heart from the world, but mostly from my mom. I've been trying not to cry since yesterday morning. My heart is very troubled today. Pray for me today, friends. Pray for God to wrap His arms around me today and for Him to bring healing balm to my wounded heart.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
excited and scared
I've been trying to be intentional about my sleep since starting my new job which means I have intentionally been avoiding my time warp blog. But I need a quick reprieve before packing up lunches and heading to bed.
I did get the new job that I had interviewed for. Last week was my first week there as well as my last week at my other job. It made for a tiring week, let me tell ya! I absolutely love the new job. I have never been more welcomed at a job. I am so thrilled to be serving in this capacity for a non-profit organization that I whole heartedly believe in. Not to mention that I am earning more and working more hours, which is always a plus!
I'm still a little scared though. I've been mostly a stay at home mamma for quite some time and now I'm actually going back to "real" (I think I prefer to say "scheduled") work. I've never worked in an office, in a cubicle. I've never dealt with the ridiculous stress that an office lunch hour brings. I mean, I brought lunch and I ate it, but all the while I was wondering what they were thinking about my plate. Was this an appropriate amount of food? Is there anything in my behavior that would have given my struggles away? Is this how normal people spend their lunch breaks, eating together and chatting about life? And no one dies of anxiety in doing it?
I have a lot of what if's going on. What if I gain a zillion pounds sitting on my butt all day long? I won't be chasing my kids all day anymore. What if I relapse badly again and it becomes easily evident to those around me again? What if I grow distant from the dear friends that I have now? Oh that is a big one.
Seriously, we have been in a similar stage of life. Sure, most of them have kids younger than mine, but we are all stay at home moms. How many impromptu play dates at Chic Fil A will I miss before they all have a common bond that I'm no longer a part of? I remember when one of my good friends went back to work after years of staying at home. I remember feeling like she no longer understood the day to day of nursing babies and changing diapers and all of the other things that were still a part of my every. single. day. I remember feeling lonely when she wanted to tell me about her day in the work force, away from her children,when all I had to offer to the conversation was that my baby hadn't lost weight again or had tried a new food. Not that we loved each other less, but we had less in common and it was the start of drifting apart.
I know full well that that could very likely happen again. My kids are all older than theirs and come fall will all be in school all day long. I have freedom that I didn't have when they were younger. Freedom to schedule coffee dates instead of McDonald's Playland dates, freedom to do things in the middle of the day without worrying about naps. I also have the freedom to hold a professional job. Will the differences in our lives, in our day to day, cause us to drift apart also? I know it's the natural ebb and flow of relationships, but I am genuinely afraid of this.
I love my new job, but I am a little scared at how it could change my life. I'm scared of not being able to see the sun whenever I want because I am in a cubicle. I'm scared of sitting still for hours a day, because I have to. I'm scared of not meeting my goals at work. I'm scared that I'm going to burst into tears with the next person who is ridiculously kind to me. I'm scared I will lose my friends and have to start over once again.
And I'm equally excited. I'm excited to open this new chapter of life and see where it takes me. Like a novel I can't put down, that is how I feel about beginning a new season of life.
I did get the new job that I had interviewed for. Last week was my first week there as well as my last week at my other job. It made for a tiring week, let me tell ya! I absolutely love the new job. I have never been more welcomed at a job. I am so thrilled to be serving in this capacity for a non-profit organization that I whole heartedly believe in. Not to mention that I am earning more and working more hours, which is always a plus!
I'm still a little scared though. I've been mostly a stay at home mamma for quite some time and now I'm actually going back to "real" (I think I prefer to say "scheduled") work. I've never worked in an office, in a cubicle. I've never dealt with the ridiculous stress that an office lunch hour brings. I mean, I brought lunch and I ate it, but all the while I was wondering what they were thinking about my plate. Was this an appropriate amount of food? Is there anything in my behavior that would have given my struggles away? Is this how normal people spend their lunch breaks, eating together and chatting about life? And no one dies of anxiety in doing it?
I have a lot of what if's going on. What if I gain a zillion pounds sitting on my butt all day long? I won't be chasing my kids all day anymore. What if I relapse badly again and it becomes easily evident to those around me again? What if I grow distant from the dear friends that I have now? Oh that is a big one.
Seriously, we have been in a similar stage of life. Sure, most of them have kids younger than mine, but we are all stay at home moms. How many impromptu play dates at Chic Fil A will I miss before they all have a common bond that I'm no longer a part of? I remember when one of my good friends went back to work after years of staying at home. I remember feeling like she no longer understood the day to day of nursing babies and changing diapers and all of the other things that were still a part of my every. single. day. I remember feeling lonely when she wanted to tell me about her day in the work force, away from her children,when all I had to offer to the conversation was that my baby hadn't lost weight again or had tried a new food. Not that we loved each other less, but we had less in common and it was the start of drifting apart.
I know full well that that could very likely happen again. My kids are all older than theirs and come fall will all be in school all day long. I have freedom that I didn't have when they were younger. Freedom to schedule coffee dates instead of McDonald's Playland dates, freedom to do things in the middle of the day without worrying about naps. I also have the freedom to hold a professional job. Will the differences in our lives, in our day to day, cause us to drift apart also? I know it's the natural ebb and flow of relationships, but I am genuinely afraid of this.
I love my new job, but I am a little scared at how it could change my life. I'm scared of not being able to see the sun whenever I want because I am in a cubicle. I'm scared of sitting still for hours a day, because I have to. I'm scared of not meeting my goals at work. I'm scared that I'm going to burst into tears with the next person who is ridiculously kind to me. I'm scared I will lose my friends and have to start over once again.
And I'm equally excited. I'm excited to open this new chapter of life and see where it takes me. Like a novel I can't put down, that is how I feel about beginning a new season of life.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
old territory from a new perspective
There is something really big weighing on my mind. For the first time I have to deal with the reality of childhood sexual abuse as an adult. I have friends who are dealing with big stuff right now. There has been sexual impropriety between their young children that will result in a foster child needing to be placed with a different family.
As the little girl who wasn't protected, I am so grateful for the steps being taken to protect the other children in the home. On behalf of those children, I want to hug the parents and social workers and say thank you for stopping it while it is still impropriety before it becomes full fledged abuse. I want to hold the child affected by the actions and never let go.
As a parent, I ache for my friends. I can only imagine the pain of having to say goodbye to this child who has been part of their family and they were trying to adopt to make him forever a part of their family. I cry thinking of having to say goodbye to one child in order to protect another. I cry thinking about needing to protect the other.
As someone who loves this child dearly, I want to hug him tight. I want to make the wounds of the past better. We don't know what his past held, but based on some of his incidents, I would guarantee that he was exposed to some form of sexual inappropriateness. I want him to be free of this. I don't want to see him labeled as the bad guy. I don't want to see him grow up, never dealing with whatever it is that has gone on, or for him to become the attacker. I love him and I want the best for him. I love him and I want him to have a family who loves him as much as he has been loved by my friends.
And selfishly, I ache because the child we have to say goodbye to is my sons best friend. I don't want to have to tell him that his best friend is moving away but best friend's family is staying, that we will still see the family multiple times a week but the family will be minus his best friend. How do I explain this to my son? How do I tell him and not have him fearing that he will have to go live with a new family if he is naughty? How do I comfort my son when he has to hear that his best friend has moved away when this is the child I get asked DAILY if we can play with?
There are a lot of emotions going on inside me right now. I bounce back and forth among them. There is no good answer. It hurts. It hurts on so many different levels and in so many different ways. As I told Hubby yesterday, I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to walk through it, much less how to guide my children through it. And I'm scared.
As the little girl who wasn't protected, I am so grateful for the steps being taken to protect the other children in the home. On behalf of those children, I want to hug the parents and social workers and say thank you for stopping it while it is still impropriety before it becomes full fledged abuse. I want to hold the child affected by the actions and never let go.
As a parent, I ache for my friends. I can only imagine the pain of having to say goodbye to this child who has been part of their family and they were trying to adopt to make him forever a part of their family. I cry thinking of having to say goodbye to one child in order to protect another. I cry thinking about needing to protect the other.
As someone who loves this child dearly, I want to hug him tight. I want to make the wounds of the past better. We don't know what his past held, but based on some of his incidents, I would guarantee that he was exposed to some form of sexual inappropriateness. I want him to be free of this. I don't want to see him labeled as the bad guy. I don't want to see him grow up, never dealing with whatever it is that has gone on, or for him to become the attacker. I love him and I want the best for him. I love him and I want him to have a family who loves him as much as he has been loved by my friends.
And selfishly, I ache because the child we have to say goodbye to is my sons best friend. I don't want to have to tell him that his best friend is moving away but best friend's family is staying, that we will still see the family multiple times a week but the family will be minus his best friend. How do I explain this to my son? How do I tell him and not have him fearing that he will have to go live with a new family if he is naughty? How do I comfort my son when he has to hear that his best friend has moved away when this is the child I get asked DAILY if we can play with?
There are a lot of emotions going on inside me right now. I bounce back and forth among them. There is no good answer. It hurts. It hurts on so many different levels and in so many different ways. As I told Hubby yesterday, I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to walk through it, much less how to guide my children through it. And I'm scared.
**** to my dear friend, I remained as vague as possible, not sharing names or specifics. But if you read this and I have said more than I
should legally or more than you are comfortable with, please let me know
and I will delete this post. I had to process what I was feeling
before it swept me away and this was the easiest outlet tonight. *****
Sunday, March 18, 2012
pepper spray and pretty dresses
I feel a little better. I told Hubby I wanted pepper spray. This weekend he made sure I got it, and he got it for me in pink. I've wanted it for a couple of months but last weeks events made it something I had to have NOW. The suspect fled on foot. Still haven't caught him. This was his 23rd armed robbery in recent months. He always hits small businesses. My theory on that is that there is less chance for security cameras.
I work alone at my job. I walk to my car in the parking garage alone as well. During summer that didn't bother me much, it wasn't fully dark when I was walking to my car. I'm always hyper aware of everything around me as I walk. You will never catch me talking on my phone or texting while I'm heading to my car. But having pink pepper spray on my key chain will help ease the anxiety I feel while walking to my car. It will also give my dad-in-law some peace of mind because he is always worried about me, especially now since the latest robbery.
In other unrelated news, I'm noticing a lot of perfect bodies right now. Colorado is full of healthy and fit bodies, especially the area where Hubby works. It has helped to remind myself that those women with the perfect bodies that I was envying the other day probably don't feel like they have a perfect body any more than I do. I've been very self conscious about my own body lately too. I've been able to keep it from being the center of my focus but it has still been there.
Yesterday I had a little time to myself. I discovered a darling little shop called Uptown Cheapskate and ventured in. Think Plato's Closet but not cluttered, clean, no holes in the clothes I was trying on and super friendly staff. I scored 3 dresses, a skirt, 3 shirts, a sweater and 2 pairs of shoes for $45! One of the dresses I ended up buying put me in a bit of a tizz. I loved the fun colors and loved the way the top of the dress fit. I didn't love the way my hips looked in it though. Totally felt like a wide load. I came out of the fitting room to look in the mirror and the previously empty store suddenly had enough people that 3 different people commented on how pretty the dress looked on me.
I nearly flew back into the dressing room a hundred shades of red. A few moments later, still wearing that dress, I came out to grab some new items from my try on pile. The sales girl looked at me and asked if I was going to buy the dress because it looked so amazing on me. I felt kinda weird. I told her that I loved the top and the colors and that maybe I just needed to get over myself and the size of my hips and go ahead and buy it. This teenage girl got the most shocked look on her face and said, "But you're sooooo tiny. You have nothing to worry about!" I bought the dress. It still had the new tags on it. Originally $109 and I paid $4.19. It had to have been a case of the mirror lying again because I swear my hips looked double wide in that dress. But I listened to the voices of everyone around me (and the voice of a killer price tag) rather than the voice in my head. Now to see if I have the guts to actually wear it.
Last night I was pulling all of the clothes out of the bag and making Hubby appreciate my new treasures. (He really is a good man. He oooh-ed and ahhhh-ed at all the right times with no prompting from me.) Oldest child was still awake and after I had showed all the clothes I had bought, he looked at me and said, "Will that flower one even fit you?" SERIOUSLY?????? I shook my head and told Hubby to tell his son that he was one comment away from walking himself to bed (joking but still.....).
God bless that man! And I mean it! He accepted the challenge of a teachable moment and talked with our boy. Poor little guy was beyond confused when Dad said, "It isn't what you said, but what a woman will hear with a comment like that is, 'You're fat'. "
But I never said that!
I know, but that is still what a girl will hear.
Hubby told him to avoid talking about weight or age with women. He informed our son that if more men had learned that lesson, there would be much fewer fights in the world. He handled it in a lighthearted way that I loved. He also gave me a moment to regroup and realize that my boy really wasn't trying to insult me or hurt my feelings and he gave our son a life lesson that will serve him well throughout his life.
When Hubby informed Son that girls are crazy, I promptly and vigorously nodded my head. Yes, son, yes we are all crazy! We hear things you never said and we feel things that don't make sense. We are all crazy. Remember that, it may save you many a headache and heartache later in life!
I work alone at my job. I walk to my car in the parking garage alone as well. During summer that didn't bother me much, it wasn't fully dark when I was walking to my car. I'm always hyper aware of everything around me as I walk. You will never catch me talking on my phone or texting while I'm heading to my car. But having pink pepper spray on my key chain will help ease the anxiety I feel while walking to my car. It will also give my dad-in-law some peace of mind because he is always worried about me, especially now since the latest robbery.
 |
| my new pink pepper spray :) |
In other unrelated news, I'm noticing a lot of perfect bodies right now. Colorado is full of healthy and fit bodies, especially the area where Hubby works. It has helped to remind myself that those women with the perfect bodies that I was envying the other day probably don't feel like they have a perfect body any more than I do. I've been very self conscious about my own body lately too. I've been able to keep it from being the center of my focus but it has still been there.
Yesterday I had a little time to myself. I discovered a darling little shop called Uptown Cheapskate and ventured in. Think Plato's Closet but not cluttered, clean, no holes in the clothes I was trying on and super friendly staff. I scored 3 dresses, a skirt, 3 shirts, a sweater and 2 pairs of shoes for $45! One of the dresses I ended up buying put me in a bit of a tizz. I loved the fun colors and loved the way the top of the dress fit. I didn't love the way my hips looked in it though. Totally felt like a wide load. I came out of the fitting room to look in the mirror and the previously empty store suddenly had enough people that 3 different people commented on how pretty the dress looked on me.
I nearly flew back into the dressing room a hundred shades of red. A few moments later, still wearing that dress, I came out to grab some new items from my try on pile. The sales girl looked at me and asked if I was going to buy the dress because it looked so amazing on me. I felt kinda weird. I told her that I loved the top and the colors and that maybe I just needed to get over myself and the size of my hips and go ahead and buy it. This teenage girl got the most shocked look on her face and said, "But you're sooooo tiny. You have nothing to worry about!" I bought the dress. It still had the new tags on it. Originally $109 and I paid $4.19. It had to have been a case of the mirror lying again because I swear my hips looked double wide in that dress. But I listened to the voices of everyone around me (and the voice of a killer price tag) rather than the voice in my head. Now to see if I have the guts to actually wear it.
 |
| hoping to get over myself and the size of my body and wear the cute thing! |
Last night I was pulling all of the clothes out of the bag and making Hubby appreciate my new treasures. (He really is a good man. He oooh-ed and ahhhh-ed at all the right times with no prompting from me.) Oldest child was still awake and after I had showed all the clothes I had bought, he looked at me and said, "Will that flower one even fit you?" SERIOUSLY?????? I shook my head and told Hubby to tell his son that he was one comment away from walking himself to bed (joking but still.....).
God bless that man! And I mean it! He accepted the challenge of a teachable moment and talked with our boy. Poor little guy was beyond confused when Dad said, "It isn't what you said, but what a woman will hear with a comment like that is, 'You're fat'. "
But I never said that!
I know, but that is still what a girl will hear.
Hubby told him to avoid talking about weight or age with women. He informed our son that if more men had learned that lesson, there would be much fewer fights in the world. He handled it in a lighthearted way that I loved. He also gave me a moment to regroup and realize that my boy really wasn't trying to insult me or hurt my feelings and he gave our son a life lesson that will serve him well throughout his life.
When Hubby informed Son that girls are crazy, I promptly and vigorously nodded my head. Yes, son, yes we are all crazy! We hear things you never said and we feel things that don't make sense. We are all crazy. Remember that, it may save you many a headache and heartache later in life!
Thursday, February 16, 2012
learning early
Sunday my boys got balloons at their cousin's birthday. Three were released into the air for a balloon race (see mamma knows fun ways to not have helium balloons in the back seat of my car). One came home in the trunk for middle child to draw a face on. Monday night while drawing on it, the over inflated balloon popped. Tears. Lots of tears. Hubby asked if I had any magic mommy words. I leaned down, hugged my son, and said, "That really sucks. I'm sorry your balloon popped, what a bummer." Yep, those were my magic words. It stinks that it happened, I feel badly for you, and life will go on.
He cried a little more. He is my ultra sensitive soul and his feelings were hurt with the balloon. Then he asked for an apple, skin cut off and core out. I was just about to say yes when he said, "Sometimes when I'm sad, if I eat something I don't feel sad anymore." WHOA! I told him no to the apple. I pulled him up in my lap and explained that it is ok to feel sad. Food is for when your body is hungry not for when your emotions are sad. He was a little confused that I wasn't going to give him something to help him feel better. I kept explaining. "Buddy, it is ok to be sad that your balloon popped. It is ok to cry when you are sad. If you let yourself be sad now, I promise it won't last forever. You will get glad again, I promise. But it isn't ok to try to not feel those feelings by eating something. Food is only for when your tummy is hungry. It doesn't really help you feel happy again, it just distracts you from the thing that made you sad."
Do you know how hard it was to not give him the apple? Do you know how hard it was to tell him that food is for his body not for his emotions? Do you know how hard it was to do the right thing by my boy instead of making it all better? Sometimes being a mommy means doing what you need to do not what you want to do.
He cried a little more. He is my ultra sensitive soul and his feelings were hurt with the balloon. Then he asked for an apple, skin cut off and core out. I was just about to say yes when he said, "Sometimes when I'm sad, if I eat something I don't feel sad anymore." WHOA! I told him no to the apple. I pulled him up in my lap and explained that it is ok to feel sad. Food is for when your body is hungry not for when your emotions are sad. He was a little confused that I wasn't going to give him something to help him feel better. I kept explaining. "Buddy, it is ok to be sad that your balloon popped. It is ok to cry when you are sad. If you let yourself be sad now, I promise it won't last forever. You will get glad again, I promise. But it isn't ok to try to not feel those feelings by eating something. Food is only for when your tummy is hungry. It doesn't really help you feel happy again, it just distracts you from the thing that made you sad."
Do you know how hard it was to not give him the apple? Do you know how hard it was to tell him that food is for his body not for his emotions? Do you know how hard it was to do the right thing by my boy instead of making it all better? Sometimes being a mommy means doing what you need to do not what you want to do.
Monday, February 6, 2012
damn good mom
I've been off today. I think my girly time is around the corner. I've just been emotional all day long. It's been one of those days where I question and second guess everything that I do. It's been one of those days that I ask God WHY He thinks I'm the perfect person to parent these three angels he entrusted to me. I've been really discouraged as a mom for a few days now. I wonder if I'm ruining my kids beyond repair (ahem, can we say therapy bills?????).
Tonight I took the kids to Chic Fil A for dinner. Another tired mom sat across from me. She had 4 boys. Her older 3 were the exact ages as my 3 boys and then she had a toddler. You could see the tired etched in her face and hear the loneliness in her voice when she struck up a conversation with me. "You have all boys too?" I totally didn't feel like being social. But I also know that look, the one that begs "Please tell me that I'm not the only one who feels like my life is spinning out of control right now!"
We talked for a while. Her husband has been away on business. She was cooped up in the house all weekend during our blizzard with 4 kids and no husband. He used to travel more often. He used to travel to China and would be gone for 3-5 weeks. And this time should have been a breeze because he was only gone 5 days. He comes home tomorrow. She had gotten out of the routine of having him traveling often and this time just seemed overwhelming to her. I had no judgement for this tired mamma making the best of what she had. Our kids played, sometimes beautifully, sometimes needing to be reminded that ninja moves in a tiny play area are not ok because someone will probably get hurt.
While we talked, my baby came out crying. The kid in the red shirt pushed him down and told him he couldn't have a turn on the slide. I looked hesitantly over my shoulder to see her relieved and shaking her head. None of her boys were wearing red, it wasn't her kid. We kept socializing. My middle comes out crying that the boy in the red shirt is calling him a nerd. Yeah, that was the evening. The red shirt bully wouldn't leave them alone. He was either verbally or physically antagonizing them the entire time.
I'm not a politically correct mom. I thought I knew that already but I didn't. In the car on the way home I got the whole story. It involved a plea for niceness, a demand for an apology and finally chasing the red shirt bully down, cornering him and making him kiss one of my kids feet. Now mind you, I had not heard this while it was going on and this was the after news. I had to stifle a laugh to hear my sweet middle son tell this story. He was so animated. My response? Uh, did I mention that I'm not very politically correct? I told him I bet that kid will think twice before he pushes a younger kid down again and I bet he never calls anyone a nerd ever again. Wrong answer?
I didn't think so but I had them retell the story to Hubby just to make sure. I had the benefit of masking my laughter while driving facing away from my kids at night. Hubby no such luck. He tried so hard to keep a straight face. And finally we both cracked and laughed together. So I posted on FB. Less detail. More criticism. I was hurt to tears by the judgement I received. My feelings of the past days must have been right, God was slightly confused when He chose me of all the women in the world to parent these boys. Someone else would have taught them how to react with just words and no smack down. But I was also really hurt that the criticism came from someone who hates when she is criticized by someone who doesn't know all the facts. It would have been easy to judge my fellow mom tonight at the restaurant, but instead I listened to her story. I heard her exhaustion. I heard her questioning if she was doing right by her kids. I could empathize. Why wasn't I given the same kindness I had just given to someone else?
My husband and friends went to battle for me, all so much nicer than I would have been if I had handled it on my own. They defended me without ever attacking her. The evening got better. And then my oldest came up the stairs (he was supposed to be sleeping) just to say, "Mom, I just wanted to tell you that I love you!" And there it hit me.
I am a damn good mom. I love my boys with every fiber of my being and they know it. I won't let them hide behind mean words or hurtful actions. But I will support them when they stand up for themselves and each other. I'm a good enough mom that my kids felt safe in telling me that they had fought back. I'm a good enough mom that even though I had been a little sharp with the kids most of the evening, they still all wanted me to cuddle with them at bedtime and my oldest wanted me to stay to talk for a while. I'm a good enough mom that my kids feel safe enough to tell me when they hate me, they know I'll love them anyway and tell them that it's ok because I love them enough for both of us. I'm a good enough mom because my boys know I'd drop anything to be there for them when they need me. I'm a good enough mom to give consequences, even when it means disciplining me as well (no video games today for such and such behavior hurts me at least as much as them). I'm a good enough mom to follow through on the consequences I do give out. And I'm a good enough mom to say I'm sorry, I was wrong, will your please forgive me when I blow it. I'm a damn good mom and God knew exactly what He was doing when He paired me with these three completely different personalities and asked me to take care of His children for a while. And it took someone pointing to my insufficiencies as a parent for me to be able to see that even though I'm far from perfect, I am indeed a good mom.
Tonight I took the kids to Chic Fil A for dinner. Another tired mom sat across from me. She had 4 boys. Her older 3 were the exact ages as my 3 boys and then she had a toddler. You could see the tired etched in her face and hear the loneliness in her voice when she struck up a conversation with me. "You have all boys too?" I totally didn't feel like being social. But I also know that look, the one that begs "Please tell me that I'm not the only one who feels like my life is spinning out of control right now!"
We talked for a while. Her husband has been away on business. She was cooped up in the house all weekend during our blizzard with 4 kids and no husband. He used to travel more often. He used to travel to China and would be gone for 3-5 weeks. And this time should have been a breeze because he was only gone 5 days. He comes home tomorrow. She had gotten out of the routine of having him traveling often and this time just seemed overwhelming to her. I had no judgement for this tired mamma making the best of what she had. Our kids played, sometimes beautifully, sometimes needing to be reminded that ninja moves in a tiny play area are not ok because someone will probably get hurt.
While we talked, my baby came out crying. The kid in the red shirt pushed him down and told him he couldn't have a turn on the slide. I looked hesitantly over my shoulder to see her relieved and shaking her head. None of her boys were wearing red, it wasn't her kid. We kept socializing. My middle comes out crying that the boy in the red shirt is calling him a nerd. Yeah, that was the evening. The red shirt bully wouldn't leave them alone. He was either verbally or physically antagonizing them the entire time.
I'm not a politically correct mom. I thought I knew that already but I didn't. In the car on the way home I got the whole story. It involved a plea for niceness, a demand for an apology and finally chasing the red shirt bully down, cornering him and making him kiss one of my kids feet. Now mind you, I had not heard this while it was going on and this was the after news. I had to stifle a laugh to hear my sweet middle son tell this story. He was so animated. My response? Uh, did I mention that I'm not very politically correct? I told him I bet that kid will think twice before he pushes a younger kid down again and I bet he never calls anyone a nerd ever again. Wrong answer?
I didn't think so but I had them retell the story to Hubby just to make sure. I had the benefit of masking my laughter while driving facing away from my kids at night. Hubby no such luck. He tried so hard to keep a straight face. And finally we both cracked and laughed together. So I posted on FB. Less detail. More criticism. I was hurt to tears by the judgement I received. My feelings of the past days must have been right, God was slightly confused when He chose me of all the women in the world to parent these boys. Someone else would have taught them how to react with just words and no smack down. But I was also really hurt that the criticism came from someone who hates when she is criticized by someone who doesn't know all the facts. It would have been easy to judge my fellow mom tonight at the restaurant, but instead I listened to her story. I heard her exhaustion. I heard her questioning if she was doing right by her kids. I could empathize. Why wasn't I given the same kindness I had just given to someone else?
My husband and friends went to battle for me, all so much nicer than I would have been if I had handled it on my own. They defended me without ever attacking her. The evening got better. And then my oldest came up the stairs (he was supposed to be sleeping) just to say, "Mom, I just wanted to tell you that I love you!" And there it hit me.
I am a damn good mom. I love my boys with every fiber of my being and they know it. I won't let them hide behind mean words or hurtful actions. But I will support them when they stand up for themselves and each other. I'm a good enough mom that my kids felt safe in telling me that they had fought back. I'm a good enough mom that even though I had been a little sharp with the kids most of the evening, they still all wanted me to cuddle with them at bedtime and my oldest wanted me to stay to talk for a while. I'm a good enough mom that my kids feel safe enough to tell me when they hate me, they know I'll love them anyway and tell them that it's ok because I love them enough for both of us. I'm a good enough mom because my boys know I'd drop anything to be there for them when they need me. I'm a good enough mom to give consequences, even when it means disciplining me as well (no video games today for such and such behavior hurts me at least as much as them). I'm a good enough mom to follow through on the consequences I do give out. And I'm a good enough mom to say I'm sorry, I was wrong, will your please forgive me when I blow it. I'm a damn good mom and God knew exactly what He was doing when He paired me with these three completely different personalities and asked me to take care of His children for a while. And it took someone pointing to my insufficiencies as a parent for me to be able to see that even though I'm far from perfect, I am indeed a good mom.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
lurking and growing up
The tears are lurking again. I can feel a weight behind the happiness. I had the realization a couple of days ago that I was only 3 years older than my son is now when I tried to commit suicide for the first time. I felt so grown up, like a very old soul, at the time. But the reality is that I wasn't. I was 12. At 9 I was praying that I wouldn't grow up to be fat like my mom. At 12 I was swallowing pills and truly it seemed like I had endured far more than a measly 12 years of life. At 14 I had begun to starve myself. I felt so old and yet I was really so young.
Thoughts like that scare me about my kids getting older. My son has a crush on a girl at school. He doesn't really understand his feelings, just that they are big feelings. He drew a heart on his leg with their initials drawn in it. He gets all smiley and goofy at the mention of her name. He is growing up. And I am glad he is growing up. I hope his teenage years are much more like his daddy's than like mine. I hope that thoughts of suicide never plague him. I hope his little comments about not needing to lose weight yet, and rarely wanting breakfast before school don't turn to haunt him with a life of ED. I read stories about the Penn State scandal and I pray he never has to understand abuse.
I want the life for him that I didn't have. I want him to know safety and security that I pretended in my mind but didn't think existed when I was his age. I hope when he is a teenager that he doesn't drink until he passes out simply because it hurts to live his life. I hope he tells his wife of fond memories of when he was a child. I hope he smiles at his kids and laughs as much as his daddy does.
I know I can't protect him from all hurt. We all get hurt. Hurt is part of life. I wouldn't want to either, it would be living in a delusion for me and cause even more hurt for him and for me. But that said, I pray his hurts never carry him down a road of self loathing. That they never carry him so far that he forgets he is loved. That they never carry him to needing to cope with the after effects of molestation, eating disorders, or suicidal tendencies. In short, I pray he never has to live my life. I hope so much more for him!
Thoughts like that scare me about my kids getting older. My son has a crush on a girl at school. He doesn't really understand his feelings, just that they are big feelings. He drew a heart on his leg with their initials drawn in it. He gets all smiley and goofy at the mention of her name. He is growing up. And I am glad he is growing up. I hope his teenage years are much more like his daddy's than like mine. I hope that thoughts of suicide never plague him. I hope his little comments about not needing to lose weight yet, and rarely wanting breakfast before school don't turn to haunt him with a life of ED. I read stories about the Penn State scandal and I pray he never has to understand abuse.
I want the life for him that I didn't have. I want him to know safety and security that I pretended in my mind but didn't think existed when I was his age. I hope when he is a teenager that he doesn't drink until he passes out simply because it hurts to live his life. I hope he tells his wife of fond memories of when he was a child. I hope he smiles at his kids and laughs as much as his daddy does.
I know I can't protect him from all hurt. We all get hurt. Hurt is part of life. I wouldn't want to either, it would be living in a delusion for me and cause even more hurt for him and for me. But that said, I pray his hurts never carry him down a road of self loathing. That they never carry him so far that he forgets he is loved. That they never carry him to needing to cope with the after effects of molestation, eating disorders, or suicidal tendencies. In short, I pray he never has to live my life. I hope so much more for him!
Monday, October 31, 2011
confronting my mom
So the other thing that I have done recently is confront my mom with the way she crossed boundaries with my kids. I was really dreading it so last week when I saw her number on the caller id, I did the complete immature thing of letting it go to voice mail so I could know what she wanted before I had to talk to her. She wanted to pick up my youngest from school, have lunch with him and then hang out with him until the older kids got out of school and then pick them up and bring everyone home.
I called her back and told her she could pick up the little guy and have lunch. I said we had some errands to run so I would just swing by on my way and pick him up. I could hear her disappointment when she said, "But I was going to just hang out with him this afternoon and then take him with me to pick up the big kids." From somewhere deep inside of me, I heard a voice that I know is mine but sure sounded a lot more sure of herself than I felt, say, "Well, I have to ask the middle child if he is ok with that. I don't know if he will want you to pick him up."
I heard her exasperation when she said, "Is that boy really still holding a grudge?" And then my floodgate opened. I never yelled. I didn't even cry. I stood my ground. And still sounding a whole lot more confident than I felt I told her everything I had experienced for the previous 2 weeks in regards to the kids and their feelings toward her. "Mom, when I got home, no sooner had hellos been said, I had a sobbing child sitting in my lap wanting to know why his grandma doesn't like him. And I didn't just hear it from him. All the kids have said you yelled all weekend long. The oldest informed me that he got tired of listening to you yell and so he went and hung out with grandpa for the rest of the weekend. The consensus was that there was a lot of raised voices and interrupting and harshness. I have to talk to them and see if they want you to pick them up because I'm not going to have them surprised by it and feel like I didn't look out for them emotionally."
There was quite a bit more said, it was over a half hour of being on the phone. Man did it feel good to lay it all out there. It felt good to know I was protecting my kids and no longer being manipulated by my mother. Hey, maybe that is the cure to mother manipulation. Wait till she messes with your kids, suddenly you don't care anymore if she is happy or not! Sorry, tangent. :)
She had been completely oblivious to how her words and actions had affected my kids. She actually felt remorseful. She insisted that she had to talk to them and let them know she was wrong. Say what? My mom actually admitting that she was wrong? That is like getting a good burger at McDonald's, it just doesn't happen! Now I happened to be already at the kids school when this conversation took place. Don't worry, the kids were at lunch and I stepped outside when they came back in. So I asked my middle child if grandma could pick him up. First he said no.
"I think I'd rather you pick me up, Mom."
"Ok, but it would be Dad because I work tonight."
"Welllllllllllllll, I guess it would be ok for grandma to pick me up then."
I called her and told her she could pick up the boys. We talked for over an hour. She completely doesn't understand my middle child. She doesn't understand why he takes everything so personally. She wants to help toughen him up so he doesn't carry a victim mentality. I told her when dealing with him, to think of me as a child. She actually groaned! Thanks, Mom, glad to know I was that hard to parent. "Oh, yeah. Over emotional about everything. Feelings so easily hurt that you didn't know what was ok to say...." She kept on like that for about a minute. All of that time I wanted to revoke the privilege of being able to pick him up from school from her. She always felt, without ever hiding it, that the way I was was wrong and it was her job to make me right. My emotions were wrong, I should be logical like her. I shouldn't be intuitive or sensitive because it was different from her and therefore wrong. I had to keep a tight reign on my emotions when we were talking about his temperament being so similar to mine. I wanted so desperately to shield him from feeling like his emotions are wrong or that he needs to be "fixed", as if he were broken!
In the end, she did pick up the kids. She took them to a park. She apologized. Well, my youngest is convinced that she didn't, which is kinda funny story. He told me that grandma did something wrong and didn't say sorry but he forgave her anyway. I, shocked, said, "She didn't say sorry?" I had to stifle a laugh when he very solemnly looked at me and said, "No, Mommy. She said she was wrong and asked if I would forgive her. I did forgive her, even though she didn't say sorry. Was that nice of me?"
The kids are young enough that sorry still makes things better. I wish I had gotten one too. After all, I am the one who held my crying son and comforted him. What mother could do that and not be hurt too? But I am grateful that she apologized to my kids. Even that is a huge step further along the road than she was when I was growing up. Sorry is not a word in her vocabulary when it comes to me and my brother or even my dad. I'm thankful that it has become a word in her vocabulary for her grandkids.
It's not all better, but it is better. I still feel very guarded with her. I still feel very protective about my boys, especially my middle child. But I do think it was eye opening to her to realize that she has a chance of damaging her relationship with them permanently if she isn't careful with her actions. I think it shocked her to realize that I won't force them to see her alone if they are uncomfortable. I think she may think a little bit before she lashes out, at least I hope so. I hope that this will, in the long run, make all of our lives a little easier. It is a lot easier to cross a line before one has been drawn and now one has been clearly drawn.
I called her back and told her she could pick up the little guy and have lunch. I said we had some errands to run so I would just swing by on my way and pick him up. I could hear her disappointment when she said, "But I was going to just hang out with him this afternoon and then take him with me to pick up the big kids." From somewhere deep inside of me, I heard a voice that I know is mine but sure sounded a lot more sure of herself than I felt, say, "Well, I have to ask the middle child if he is ok with that. I don't know if he will want you to pick him up."
I heard her exasperation when she said, "Is that boy really still holding a grudge?" And then my floodgate opened. I never yelled. I didn't even cry. I stood my ground. And still sounding a whole lot more confident than I felt I told her everything I had experienced for the previous 2 weeks in regards to the kids and their feelings toward her. "Mom, when I got home, no sooner had hellos been said, I had a sobbing child sitting in my lap wanting to know why his grandma doesn't like him. And I didn't just hear it from him. All the kids have said you yelled all weekend long. The oldest informed me that he got tired of listening to you yell and so he went and hung out with grandpa for the rest of the weekend. The consensus was that there was a lot of raised voices and interrupting and harshness. I have to talk to them and see if they want you to pick them up because I'm not going to have them surprised by it and feel like I didn't look out for them emotionally."
There was quite a bit more said, it was over a half hour of being on the phone. Man did it feel good to lay it all out there. It felt good to know I was protecting my kids and no longer being manipulated by my mother. Hey, maybe that is the cure to mother manipulation. Wait till she messes with your kids, suddenly you don't care anymore if she is happy or not! Sorry, tangent. :)
She had been completely oblivious to how her words and actions had affected my kids. She actually felt remorseful. She insisted that she had to talk to them and let them know she was wrong. Say what? My mom actually admitting that she was wrong? That is like getting a good burger at McDonald's, it just doesn't happen! Now I happened to be already at the kids school when this conversation took place. Don't worry, the kids were at lunch and I stepped outside when they came back in. So I asked my middle child if grandma could pick him up. First he said no.
"I think I'd rather you pick me up, Mom."
"Ok, but it would be Dad because I work tonight."
"Welllllllllllllll, I guess it would be ok for grandma to pick me up then."
I called her and told her she could pick up the boys. We talked for over an hour. She completely doesn't understand my middle child. She doesn't understand why he takes everything so personally. She wants to help toughen him up so he doesn't carry a victim mentality. I told her when dealing with him, to think of me as a child. She actually groaned! Thanks, Mom, glad to know I was that hard to parent. "Oh, yeah. Over emotional about everything. Feelings so easily hurt that you didn't know what was ok to say...." She kept on like that for about a minute. All of that time I wanted to revoke the privilege of being able to pick him up from school from her. She always felt, without ever hiding it, that the way I was was wrong and it was her job to make me right. My emotions were wrong, I should be logical like her. I shouldn't be intuitive or sensitive because it was different from her and therefore wrong. I had to keep a tight reign on my emotions when we were talking about his temperament being so similar to mine. I wanted so desperately to shield him from feeling like his emotions are wrong or that he needs to be "fixed", as if he were broken!
In the end, she did pick up the kids. She took them to a park. She apologized. Well, my youngest is convinced that she didn't, which is kinda funny story. He told me that grandma did something wrong and didn't say sorry but he forgave her anyway. I, shocked, said, "She didn't say sorry?" I had to stifle a laugh when he very solemnly looked at me and said, "No, Mommy. She said she was wrong and asked if I would forgive her. I did forgive her, even though she didn't say sorry. Was that nice of me?"
The kids are young enough that sorry still makes things better. I wish I had gotten one too. After all, I am the one who held my crying son and comforted him. What mother could do that and not be hurt too? But I am grateful that she apologized to my kids. Even that is a huge step further along the road than she was when I was growing up. Sorry is not a word in her vocabulary when it comes to me and my brother or even my dad. I'm thankful that it has become a word in her vocabulary for her grandkids.
It's not all better, but it is better. I still feel very guarded with her. I still feel very protective about my boys, especially my middle child. But I do think it was eye opening to her to realize that she has a chance of damaging her relationship with them permanently if she isn't careful with her actions. I think it shocked her to realize that I won't force them to see her alone if they are uncomfortable. I think she may think a little bit before she lashes out, at least I hope so. I hope that this will, in the long run, make all of our lives a little easier. It is a lot easier to cross a line before one has been drawn and now one has been clearly drawn.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
conviction
This morning in the car the kids brought up the issues with my mom again. Obviously I am not the only one who is hurt. So we added her to our morning prayer time. We prayed that God would help us to walk in forgiveness toward her even though we are hurt and don't feel like forgiving. We prayed that God would bring healing to the rawness in our hearts from the wounds she caused. And we prayed that God would give us grace so that we could extend grace to her.
It sucked. I so didn't want to pray for her. I'm still angry. But what better time to pray? I was reminded of Luke 6:27-37 while we prayed. The summary of it is to pray for those who hurt you. Everyone can love someone who loves them but God asks us to love those who hurt us. It ends by saying "Be merciful just as your Father is merciful." The next part says don't judge or you will be judged. Um, yeah, conviction.
So then tonight at work I saw the textbook for a communications class.
I decided that even though I had a fun, little brain power, quite enjoyable novel to read that maybe I was supposed to read this one instead. So tonight I read from yet another text textbook, this time to help me understand the conflict with my mom. I was annoyed reading it because really, I know most of it but hearing it was still difficult. The short version is that I have to take the high road and act with integrity or else all we will do is continue to fight, possibly sever what is left of our relationship, and in no way help my son.
The book gave advice like using "I messages" instead of "you messages". You know, saying, I was really hurt and I felt disrespected rather than attacking and saying you were disrespectful. It also suggested focusing on the future rather than the past. Rather than focusing on the fact that she handled this completely wrong, focus on what our expectations for future interactions are. Informing her that we won't be ok with certain behaviors in the future but not keeping the conversation centered on what she did wrong this last time.
Still hurt? Heck yeah. Still angry? Yep. But I have a better perspective tonight. I know that I cannot harbor hatred and bitterness in my heart toward her and still be walking in God's truth (1 John is full of examples of if you harbor hate you are not living in the light, if you hate in your heart you have committed murder in your heart, etc.) I know that God made her and loves her. I know He can give me love for her.
I'm still not looking forward to talking to her about this, but still feel like it needs to be done. I still very firmly feel that my son needs to know I've got his back. And my kids need to see me honor my mother in the midst of conflict. Someday they will be adults. When that day comes, I pray that they will remember that I spoke the truth in love and honored my mother, their grandmother. I pray that they will still know that I will always have their backs. I pray that when I frustrate them, they, having seen me model it first, will act in love towards me.
And I pray right now that God will give me wisdom and grace to handle this and that He will help me to love her the way He does. Heaven knows that is the only way I can do this!!!!!!!
It sucked. I so didn't want to pray for her. I'm still angry. But what better time to pray? I was reminded of Luke 6:27-37 while we prayed. The summary of it is to pray for those who hurt you. Everyone can love someone who loves them but God asks us to love those who hurt us. It ends by saying "Be merciful just as your Father is merciful." The next part says don't judge or you will be judged. Um, yeah, conviction.
So then tonight at work I saw the textbook for a communications class.
I decided that even though I had a fun, little brain power, quite enjoyable novel to read that maybe I was supposed to read this one instead. So tonight I read from yet another text textbook, this time to help me understand the conflict with my mom. I was annoyed reading it because really, I know most of it but hearing it was still difficult. The short version is that I have to take the high road and act with integrity or else all we will do is continue to fight, possibly sever what is left of our relationship, and in no way help my son.
The book gave advice like using "I messages" instead of "you messages". You know, saying, I was really hurt and I felt disrespected rather than attacking and saying you were disrespectful. It also suggested focusing on the future rather than the past. Rather than focusing on the fact that she handled this completely wrong, focus on what our expectations for future interactions are. Informing her that we won't be ok with certain behaviors in the future but not keeping the conversation centered on what she did wrong this last time.
Still hurt? Heck yeah. Still angry? Yep. But I have a better perspective tonight. I know that I cannot harbor hatred and bitterness in my heart toward her and still be walking in God's truth (1 John is full of examples of if you harbor hate you are not living in the light, if you hate in your heart you have committed murder in your heart, etc.) I know that God made her and loves her. I know He can give me love for her.
I'm still not looking forward to talking to her about this, but still feel like it needs to be done. I still very firmly feel that my son needs to know I've got his back. And my kids need to see me honor my mother in the midst of conflict. Someday they will be adults. When that day comes, I pray that they will remember that I spoke the truth in love and honored my mother, their grandmother. I pray that they will still know that I will always have their backs. I pray that when I frustrate them, they, having seen me model it first, will act in love towards me.
And I pray right now that God will give me wisdom and grace to handle this and that He will help me to love her the way He does. Heaven knows that is the only way I can do this!!!!!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)