Earlier this week Ellie was singing a Lady Gaga song (Lady Gaga has become quite popular in this house and is heard at various times of day throughout the day).
"I'm a fwee biwtch," she sang out.
"Ellie, that's not a very nice word, so even though she sings it, I don't want you to say it," I told her.
"What word?" asked Jeff.
"Oh, the free part," I tried to say nonchalantly.
"What, I'm a free bench?" he asked again, obviously puzzled as to what was bad about a bench.
"No, Jeff, not bench - BITCH!" yelled Ellie.
So much for not saying it.
Then today I was trying to help Jefferson work out a conflict with a friend. The friend had gone home temporarily, and Jeff was very upset by what had happened. I suggested to him he view it from the friend's point of view - if that friend did to Jeff what Jeff had done to that friend, how would Jeff feel? "I'd feel like calling him the S-Word!" he proclaimed. Just as I was mildly freaking out that apparently my son knows words I didn't think he knew, he continued, "Whatever the S-Word is. I don't know."
Bwah ha ha!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
"A ship in the harbor is safe. But that's not what ships are built for." - Anonymous
I like safety. I do. One of the highest compliments I can say about my husband is he makes me feel safe in a way that no one else does.
The world is rather scary to me. I am anxiety-prone, so I'm sure a lot of those "eek" feelings are related to my brain chemistry. Especially when I talk to others and realize not everyone feels the way I do - that kind of general fearful feeling I carry around with me most of the time apparently is not something everyone else has.
But when it is O.K. to play it safe and when is it not? If I prefer safety, is it all right not to venture too far out of my comfort zone, or is that a sign it's even more important for me to fly from the nest?
Why this? Why now? Because next year my daughter will be in kindergarten. And I'm left staring at the question, "What now?" Do I go back to work? If so, what do I want to do? If not, why not?
There is a big part of me that would love to stay home - to see how it goes, to see whether or not it's beneficial to the family, to see if I can finally get those projects done I've been putting off for years. My husband is supportive of whatever choice I make. I have a choice. I'm very lucky in that. But there's a little part of me that knows that desire to stay home is related to or stems from that desire to stay safe. Life is familiar here, and not too terribly risky.
But it is a valid reason to maintain the status quo? I feel like I ought to challenge that, like I ought to push myself. But why? Because of society's expectations? Because of other people's expectations? Or because that's the best way for me to grow?
Maybe the best way for me to grow is to bloom where I've been planted. Stay at home and figure out who I am now. Write. Work on self. Unless my blossoms are really ostriches sticking their heads in the sand (how's that for a bizarre mixed idiom?).
Posted by Unknown at 7:47 PM
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Ellie: "Mom, who's your dad?"
Me: "Well, Grandpa Alan is my stepdad. My mom married him when I was 17. But my real dad is Don - he lives out in Arizona. He and my mom decided not to be married anymore when I was 5."
Jeff: "Yeah, it's called divorce."
Ellie, aghast: "WHAT? You can't change your MIND!"
Brett and I tried very hard to control our laughter. And failed. "At least we know the Disney Princess indoctrination is working," Brett quipped.
Posted by Unknown at 9:37 AM
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Apparently while on a field trip around Christmas time, one of the preschool activities was listening to the story of Jesus. Ellie went right up on stage with the person reading the story, and clearly knew all the action and what was going to happen next. When the reader finished, he asked the kids, "So, is this a true story?"
"No!", Ellie laughed. Then added, "But I've seen Santa Claus!"
Posted by Unknown at 7:29 PM
Don't compare your insides to someone else's outsides.
Don't compare your outsides to someone else's outsides.
Scales are for fish.
Shoulding on yourself is a four-letter word.
Feelings are not facts.
This, too, shall pass.
Posted by Unknown at 7:18 PM
Monday, March 7, 2011
I didn't. I wanted to, but I didn't. I knew at that moment he would not be receptive to anything I had to say. So I let him go to sleep mad. The next morning, he was in a fine mood. I said to him, "Jeff, do you remember some of those things you were saying last night? About how we don't love you, etc?" "Yeah," he said. "Well, those are examples of what I call poisonous thinking." His eyed got wide, and he put his hands to his throat (my literal boy!). I continued, "No, they won't really kill you - but they poison your perception of reality because they aren't truthful, but will start to feel truthful if you say them over and over to yourself." He nodded. I *think* he got it. I ended by saying, "My brain can do the same thing to me - I can repeat mean things over and over that aren't true, but they start to feel true. It poisons me, too."
And sadly, that's the truth. Even more sadly, I often still don't even fully register when I'm doing it.
This morning I made chocolate chip cookies. When I called a neighbor to ask if she wanted any, she said "Sure," but also wanted to know why I was baking. She knows I've been trying to eat better and drop some weight, and she knows I've been struggling a lot lately. So she was checking in. "I'm bingeing," I answered, to which she replied, "For 2 weeks? What's going on? Are you stressed?" Now, part of me got defensive. How dare she question my eating? What's it to her if I binge my way to kingdom come? The other part realized she was speaking the truth in love - she knows I'm trying to change my eating and be healthier, and was asking legitimately what was going on because I haven't been eating in a way that will get me anything but fatter.
Earlier this morning I was at the gym. I was walking the track, but my heart wasn't in it. I was very tired (I've been going to bed too late), and just couldn't get motivated to kick it up a notch. I realized, as I took a short bathroom break, that I was beating myself up about it, chiding myself for not working out harder, telling myself I should be in the Zumba class, or at least doing the stair master, or, for Pete's sake, at least moving faster than I was. Realizing that I was saying those things was amazing - because I hadn't fully acknowledged that critical self speaking to me. I'd accepted it and believed it - but didn't totally register I was even saying it to myself.
I also think the only reason I really acknowledged what I was saying is because of an article a friend posted on Facebook this week, the premise of which is speaking kindly to ourselves will help in weight goals. It wasn't a new idea to me - I've been aware of my negative self-talk for years - but just seeing it again in black and white, and seeing it applied to relationships with food and bodies was great. Talk to yourself the way you'd talk to a friend, the article encouraged.
If a friend came to me and said, "Man, I'm here at the gym, but I'm just so tired. I don't feel I have it in me to really go all out - I think I'll just walk today," would I have criticized her? No! I would probably be empathetic and agree that walking today sounds like a good option - she could always do a harder workout tomorrow! And praise her for even being AT the gym when she didn't feel like it! Likewise, if I see a friend wanting to eat healthfully but pigging out on donuts at that moment, would I reject her? Would I chastise her? Absolutely not. I'd sympathize, maybe ask if there were any reason, be supportive.
I would not tell her she sucked. I would not tell her she would always be fat. I would not tell her she couldn't do it. I would not tell her she was lazy, or dumb, or had no willpower, or was a bad example, or obviously was going to fail.
I wouldn't do that, because I cared about her. And I wouldn't do that because I know that a) none of those things are true, and b) negative talk doesn't motivate anybody. Except maybe to shut down.
So when I see that, when I can really see that I wouldn't talk to a friend the way I talk to myself, how do I change my own inner monologue? It's been stuck on self-lambasting and self-flagellation for so long it doesn't know how to speak any other language.
I guess it's time to learn.
I don't want to gain back all the weight I've lost. I don't want to eat so poorly, for my own health and for the sake of my children. I want to figure out a way to be kind to myself, but not permissive. If I wouldn't let my kids eat gobs of raw cookie dough, perhaps I shouldn't be doing it either. But if I do, as I did this morning, perhaps labeling myself as a "hypocrite" in a sarcastic, snide, "you know you're bad" way, as I did, isn't the best response.
Perhaps the best response is loving myself enough to say, "You're O.K. Stop the behavior. Love the person."
Last week Jeff called anger "The Little Thief." It steals his fun. For me, self-criticism is the thief. It's poisoned my life.
Posted by Unknown at 12:38 PM