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As Long as Never Enough Is the Mutter

I waste moments in my day thinking about how lucky other people are. Well of course they can work out for two hours, grab a coffee with a friend, or sit and read for hours, they aren’t parents of small people. I’m comparing my apples to their oranges. One day, I’ll have that time back.

And this just goes to prove my underlying understanding of my life : there’s never enough time, energy, or money to do all the things I want do. So you’d think I’d go ahead and lower my standards to feel better about my life. Nope.

I want to have a clean house, a well-toned body, a beautiful garden, grateful kids, a larger blog following, essays published in well known publications, or even a career.

I’m always working but it’s never enough. Most people can’t believe I do as much as I do. And I wonder what life they see me living. And conversely, there was the awful person who suggested I go get a job. I must be living a life of luxury over here getting my toes painted and who knows what else. People “my age” often are employed.As Long as Never Enough Is the Mutter on Shalavee.com

Sadly, I should be even more infuriated at that stupid comment. Women are always screwed as so many don’t understand the sheer volume of responsibilities we have in our minds to keep up with. But now with the children at home on top of our heads needing us to also be the homework monitor and entertainment manager on top of being laundress, cook, disciplinarian, nursemaid, and person who pays attention to them.

No wonder I feel like I’m not enough. Society has handed me this mental condition and I’ve said, thank you sir, may I have another? Until I can say “enough already”, I will not have enough time left for me. For the house work or the garden much less my own personal creative work or self-care practices. Creating realistic self-expectations is something I need for me and to model for my daughter.

I’m going to sit down and have a long talk with that little niggling voice in the back of my head about what I truly think is enough. Really.

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.

Struggling With Priorities : Them or Me

The largest part of who I am is needing to have my kids feel safe. In the beginning of our coronacation, I have fussed and hovered like I did when we would take our littles on vacation and I would worry they wouldn’t sleep. I’d be the sleepless one while the kids would pass out happily. They have done well, broken down and cried on and at me. But their feelings have been honored and I feel successful that they feel safe. However, it is exhausting to care for people this hard. Especially dramatic redheaded daughters.

Truth is, I can see how we Moms have a perfect excuse to not pursue our own personal creative goals. I have long struggled with what I “really want to do”. Even as it seems I’m doing “it”, I’m not feeling like I am. I realize it’s all about considering myself as not enough. Not enough of a good parent or a committed creative. So many ways I can look right at my life and deem it a failure.

I found this poem that I wrote a while back and I really think it sums up the inner battle I have with my expectations to succeed and what is enough.

 

I chatter at it and

Batter at it and

still it is not fixed.

The ages old self-diatribe

I am not enough, I am not enough

 

I tell everyone, I’m OK, I’m fine

But in my mind there’s a line

And I’m on the wrong side.

 

The impossibility of moving on

Tethered to a ghost.

I trust no one, even myself

And so I remain lost

 

I crave the ease

The easy squeeze

that will fill my future full

Of gratitude and tenderness

of purposed hours filled.

 

I write at night

with all my sight

that I might

win this fight.

I have come a long way from where I was when I wrote this poem. I am more convinced that I am on my path just taking a more leisurely stroll along it. The medication was a wonder as it allowed me to use all of the education and hard work I had done prior. But the viral disruption that is 2020 has thrown all of us off balance and I am busy figuring out where my children stop and I begin.

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.

My Supermom Cape is Getting Threadbare

My supermom cape is beginning to feel a little threadbare. I have said from he beginning that having one child at home feels like three. So I’m feeling like I have 6 kids. And as dear as they would be to you when you met them, they are equally as torturous to me.

Small people need to perpetually test their own power, importance, and lovability. They learn their confidence and self-doubt from their parents. In this case, Fiona is going after me to have her doubts assuaged. And that looks like not doing what she’s told, having fits, crying at me, and professing how much she hates being trapped at home with her parents.

I assured her that we are equally having no fun. Yes she’d be doing all of this if she were in school but at least I’d have some time and space to recover from the sieges before the next. But the codependency is constant. And this is the exact reason why I never ever wanted to homeschool my kids. It’s relentless living with the kids. It’s a whole new layer of torture trying to get them to “learn” when you’re the teacher.My Supermom Cape is Getting Threadbare on Shalavee.com

The reason the doctor makes the nurses give the shots is because he doesn’t want to be the bad guy. Worse yet, in order to show her she matters, I have to sit with her through the hour of mind numbing video math homework and ridiculously simple rhyming activities. And if I even try to tech her something unsanctioned by her teacher, she brakes down into a chorus of I can’t that makes me feel like I can’t either.

So to all of the parents that have to deal with this nonsense for another month, my condolences. I know you feel thin in places. Your super-parental cape is tattered. You love your kids but you don’t like them. I get it and this too shall pass.

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.

Mothering For the Long Haul

I get the feeling that in the old days, people had kids to add more hands to the labor pool. The more bodies, the better to help plant, pick, and pickle. And yes, they were all jammed into small cabins on the prairie or in the hollow much like we are today. Welcome to our ancestral American Roots where you were lucky if you survived bizarre daily accidents and went on to procreate yourself. Mothering for the long haul on Shalavee.com

Fast forward to modern day 2020 and we have all been reduced to huddling in our prairie huts with our families riding out the viral storm, living the past in the present Laura Ingalls Wilder style.. This occasion gives the thinkers like me time to stop and consider who we are and what we think. And what I discovered about myself is that I am foremost, a mother. The well-being of my children physically and mentally is at the top of my everyday priority list. Yes it’s nice if they can haul in the groceries and unload the dishwasher but their mere existence is joy enough for me.Mothering for the long haul on Shalavee.com

So in the first couple weeks of our lock in, I was acting much like I did when we would take them as young children to the beach for a couple overnights. I’d end up worrying all night about if they were getting enough sleep and I’d get no sleep while they’d sleep like the babies they were. 

These first couple weeks of seclusion, I wanted to help my daughter to feel safe. I wanted to be there for her and lighten her load and not add to it. As Moms around the world were doing, I was thinking of the children first. Because I understand this better. Because I remember what it was like to not have my feelings be prioritized. Because I esteem them so that they will esteem them.Mothering for the long haul on Shalavee.com

But I also learned that they needed to grieve for the loss of their normal. They eventually would grieve in their own time and their own ways and I had to step back and be present and allow for this to happen. I can not take away their pain. They are entitled to it. It is theirs. But they also turned to me to feel safe to feel this grief. And that’s truly all we can do for our family and our friends, just witness all the craziness with them and know that soon, this will all be a nightmare.

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.

 

Clueless to Our Futures, Responsible For Our Nows

My near 15 year old is in the other room playing Scenes From an Italian Restaurant by Billy Joel, a song popular when I was 15 years old. And when I was a 15 year old, I really didn’t regard myself with much self-esteem and never could have foreseen being a mother to a gifted pianist.

We just don’t have a clue about what’s coming, do we? We can only do the next right thing; for ourselves, our children, and our community. We can choose choices we’re proud to have made alongside people we are proud to call our friends. Everything is an illusion.

We’re all kinda biding our time and treading water until our denied endings. But we can make the time in between mean more than spending and getting money. My life is me spinning all my wisdom into beautiful readable and view-able webs. And I don’t think there’s a nobler effort made anywhere than that of the artist expressing what it feels to be human.

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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