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Sharing Our Space and Our Lives

I had a birthday visit from my oldest today. She’s a surrogate daughter, an adopted sister soul to our family. And she spoke of feeling that need to have a nesting partner. That next chapter where you feel the need to share your space with someone and your DNA with the world.

I have always been a nester. And there was no one worthy of doing this with me until I met my husband. I knew he’d value the fathering job as much as I honored the idea of mothering. But Boy Howdee, sharing constant space with these mooks for nearly a year has been a challenge.

I abhor visual chaos. It was how I grew up. So living with a teenager has become a battle against the chaos. A recent discussion about rules restriction and entitlement had me write this.

Your privilege leaves a small wake of chaos behind you. Waste and messy spaces do not look like honor and respect of yourself, your home, or the people you share it with. When you regularly forget chores, your disregard for how it affects others could be remedied if you were aware your choices always affect others.”Sharing Our Space and Our Lives on Shalavee.com

My constant presence in the house has somehow substantiated my function as constant maid and waitress. And while I don’t mind doing for others, the moment it is expected and taken for granted is the moment I’m unwilling to continue.

This parenting and marriage thing is a perpetual process. As I learn to respect myself more and learn I’m entitled to both parent and set boundaries, it does get slightly easier. I do see glimmers of hope when I hear thank you’s and pleases without prompting. But being responsible for 21 meals per week is exhausting. No not all of them are going to be healthy.

And when this is all over, I’ll be glad to have “time to myself”. But meanwhile I grab the time I can to write and event plan Christmas. And I endeavor to be honest with myself and my family about what’s getting on my nerves. And what I need to have happen to make it stop.

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The Next Right Thing But Quicker

I’m still struggling with how to do the next rightest thing by my Mom. She’s been out of the hospital for a month. Progress is slow and on her terms. She shrieks and grouses when I attempt to move on to places she’s afraid of. The layers of neglect and chaos are so deep. When you speak with her, all of that is invisible. But I know.

Let’s get real. Holidays are coming. I am the holiday maker, tree decorator, present purchaser, and stocking overlord. That special event is exhausting enough.

And I’m about to do a soft relaunch of my blog. I feel slightly nauseous but happy.

But my house is clean and my toenails are painted. I’ll have my SI joint pain taken care of by Christmas and my hand carpal tunnel operations after that. I keep following the breadcrumbs to my wellness and self-care no matter what.

As women, we know if we don’t take care of it, it might not get taken care of. That includes our family and ourselves. And if I don’t get people to do it themselves and ask for help, then they won’t know how to take care of themselves without me. But that applies to my spawn only and not to people are mentally unwell.

All I can say is that I gather tremendous strength in knowing I have such a supportive community. I know I have given when it has been needed and feel so lucky that I am being gifted the same.

This too shall pass, I just wish it would go a little quicker.

 

Interested in reading my future ponderings on Creative Soul Living? Subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my weekly posts via your emailbox.

Find me on Instagram to see my daily pictures,

friend me or like my page on Facebook.

Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too.

I am a community kinda person and am always practicing Intentional Intouchness.

I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

I Will Not Ask Your Permission to Parent You

As you may know, we now have an official teenager in our home. Not the 13-year-old wanna be teen. Not the emerging effort teen. We have the full out hormones are making me weird and mindless teen. And no matter what you say, there are certain things I will not accept as normal for a teen.

This is a kid who was so good I used to say he needed a day where he had permission to just be bad all day. He was polite if not thoughtful. Sure Dad, yes Mom. And then, girlfriend, lockdown, and his demands to make his own decisions about his use of “his” phone (paid for by us) hit our house like a hurricane.

That way he would camp out on the sofa, rubbing his stinky head into my couch pillows and leaving his chaos and trash in his wake, was upsetting. So I came up with the dice jar and the driving carrot. That worked for about two weeks.

My husband lost it when, in one day, he spent 7-8 hours straight on the phone. And routinely would just forget any of the chores that we asked of him. The good student was now going to bed at 2 am and sneaking his phone up to his room when that was literally the only rule I had, no phones upstairs.

Two weeks ago, I had had it. His insolence, his arrogance, and his swearing off of the phone if he couldn’t use it the way he wanted. I said time to get a landline then. Pull it. I was unimpressed with all of it. He asked to write us an essay about what he was thinking. And I wrote a rebuttal.

You are correct in saying that you are very responsible in many many ways. Perhaps I do not always see these actions or I take them as for granted as you take me. The respect and consideration that you think you deserve isn’t the same you exhibit.

Your privilege leaves a small wake of chaos behind you. Waste and messy spaces do not look like honor and respect of yourself, your home, or the people you share it with.

When you regularly forget chores, your disregard for how it affects others could be remedied if you were aware your choices always affect others.

The respect of our house and our rules while you live here is non-negotiable. We all have to follow the rules of the road and the world and this is us ensuring that you understand how we value teaching you this and keeping you safe. We will not ask your permission to parent you. We love you too much.

Your old friend Mom.”

When my husband and I spoke before we had a follow up discussion with our son, we both agreed that we stood strong on the phone rules. Rules is rules. When he begins to drive, there are rules that will save his life. We agreed that we did not need to ask permission to parent and bemused the old quote, “management has the right to make bad decisions”. But the phone and all it’s content and liabilities still were in our name.

But what I really wanted to stress was that I honored my job as Mom and keeper of the house. This was a job I took very seriously and his disregard for how hard I worked to make this house a home was very distressing and very disrespectful.

So to all those people who say, Oh that’s just a teenager, I say that he came to my house and he needs to live by my rules. Sometimes this behavior may be predictable but not necessarily acceptable. I will not be intimidated by glowering and sulking. I think these are just tests again to see if he’s important enough to rein in. And I think I can show him both he and I matter in resolving this situation.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Self-care Sunday Thoughts

The rain has finally stopped and the blue skies are filled with cartoon exhaust clouds. My son’s friends are all happily yelling at the video game they are playing.

The smell of chili and banana bread permeate the house. Am trying to squelch the pain of my SI joint which has returned with Ibuprofen. And I’m trying to figure how best to continue engage in the impossible task of getting my Mother out of her house.

It keeps coming back to this. I wake in the morning and wonder what is the next best thing. I want to get her to where I can be nearby when inevitable disaster happens. I want to remove her from the hell she has created for herself. Of course, it’s the allure to save her. The same allure that had me dating and marrying my first husband. Dangerous booby trapped terrain that can never truly be traversed.Self-care Sunday Thoughts on Shalavee.com

Just like back in the beginning of the Coronavirus lockdown, my self-care has slipped. I haven’t exercised in a while. My writing time is non-existent. I finally dyed my white hair roots and felt immensely better. How do all of life’s details fall on the shoulders of the womenfolk? But in the shadow of seeing the state of my mom’s house, I’m even more hyper aware of the mess in my own home.

All I can do, as I’ve been saying, is to do the next right thing. Prioritize myself. Sorry that you feel that way but I need to do this for me. Stay connected to my communities and schedule some creative time.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Ten Things about this Pandemic that Bother Me Most

I am sure we all have had enough of certain aspects of this Pandemic. I decided to list mine. And no, the masks didn’t make it to the list because I understand their necessity.

  1. Our mandatory mistrust of one another in order to be safe is so bothersome to me ie. I trust and someone dies. No one wants to kill their mother after all.
  2. Despite all the information posted everywhere, most people have no understanding of this virus’ mode of transmission (via spittle into the face), contagion period (less than a week before symptoms and three weeks at most after it presents), or what an antibody is (immunity in your body).
  3. But presenting with the antibodies means nothing. Not enough is known as the virus mutates to know if you are immune to one strain but can catch the next one coming through. Ten Things about this Pandemic that Bother Me Most on Shalavee.com
  4. No real school program in place for our public school children.
  5. Capitalism continues to thrive in our high anxiety climate of not enoughness and plague fear.
  6. The richest companies in the country just tripled their profits from the anxiety-fest.
  7. I gained ten pounds.
  8. No vaccine for the pandemic this year or perhaps even next.Ten Things about this Pandemic that Bother Me Most on Shalavee.com
  9. Zoom meetings.
  10. With all this time , I still manage to mismanage my time and feel like I’m getting nothing done.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

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