Shining Light & a Rift in Positive Parenting

So I've been reading a daily devotional since the beginning of the Lenten season and a common theme is about light. Seeing God's light, feeling it, but also being it. Shining your own light so that others can see it and feel encouraged to share their own. Imagine how bright the world could be if this light sharing trickled on and on! One of the readings was about how we often wait to share our light or don't feel worthy enough to share it if it isn't perfect, if we don't think it's bright enough. The message was that it doesn't have to be, and actually shouldn't be perfect to share. You share your true self, who God made you, and your light will inevitably shine and reach someone's darkness in order to help them believe in their own light. 

This made me think...of all the articles I've had published and any blog I've shared, the most shared and commented on (whether in person or on social media) have been when I was the most real. When I was the most vulnerable and honest. When I discussed mental health, fertility struggles, the challenges that come with the joys of parenting, what it's like being married to a police officer; the times I opened my personal life and thoughts to anyone willing to click and read. Oftentimes, those things didn't feel like I was sharing any kind of light, the opposite actually; I was sharing things in me where I thought the light wasn't touching. But that's the beauty, right? "In the darkness, we find light," is a quote that stands out to me. And I assume this quote is derived from the bible verse "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (Which I had to look up...and is John 1:5 in case anyone is wondering.)

I also would be remiss not to mention the Kelly Clarkson lyric that inspires me to share..."you may not have the stage, but you still have a voice" (this one I didn't have to look up...it's from I Dare You in case anyone is wondering:) Maybe a handful of my closest friends and family will ever read what I write, but maybe it will spark something for someone, and that's what matters. 

So, the combination of that morning devotional and the wise lyrics of my bff Kelly, spoke to me to share more of what I think isn't share-worthy. We should share the parts of us that we think people might not love, the parts that are confusing or scary or shameful. Maybe when we bring these things that feel dark into the light, we find it doesn't have to be so dark at all really.

So here comes the anecdotal story...I'm not super comfortable sharing it, but that's kinda the point I'm trying to make here, right? We recently took a family trip to Florida. My in-laws gave us a super cool family gift this past Christmas to swim with manatees when we visited them. My daughter was the most excited, it's something she's been asking for for a long time and what we planned to give her for her birthday which was only a few weeks before we were going to be in FL. She is our resident animal expert and is a walking encyclopedia of manatee information. The idea of being up close and personal with them was a dream come true for her. We spent the weeks leading up to the trip scouring the library and podcasts to find anything about manatees that she didn't already know. 

The day of our excursion came and we had a very excited little girl. There was one moment on the drive there where she showed some trepidation, but it faded quickly as her excitement won out. We arrived at the docks, listened to the safety talk, put on our wet suits, boarded the boat and headed out to find our manatees. 

We saw a few of these gentle giants as we traveled to where we were going to anchor and everyone's excitement grew. Once anchored and set to go, the guide handed us snorkel masks and told us we could get in the water. I got in first, then Kennie came down the ladder. The second she was in the water, she panicked. I saw it in her eyes through the mask and tried to calm and steady her. I don't know what spooked her, but she immediately said "I want to get out." I told her to breathe, I told her we were safe and I was going to be with her the whole time, I reminded her the guide knew exactly what he was doing, I repeated how he told us there was absolutely nothing to fear in those waters. She wasn't having any of it. Her nervous system flipped a switch and she needed to get out of that water. I swam her back to the ladder, helped her out, stayed with her a few minutes before deciding to have her just take a break, watch us go and wait until she was comfortable and ready to join us. 

We followed the guide through the murky water and listened as he pointed out which way to look so we would see a manatee coming our way. We were too far from the boat for Kennie to see the manatees swimming right next to us or underneath us, but what a magical experience! A mom and baby swam less than a foot away from us. All I could think of was how much Kennie would have loved to be that close to a mama and baby wild animal! I was so worried she would be so bummed she missed it! After a little while, I swam back to the boat to see how she was doing and I was sure she'd be ready to come out with us (sometimes she just needs some time to wrap her head around something new before participating and we always try to be mindful of this and not push her into something before she's ready.) 

I began by calmly speaking with her and encouraging her to come back out with us even if it was just for a few minutes. I so wanted her to get to experience this and I was so worried she would be full of regret if she didn't. I reminded her what a strong swimmer she was, how much she knew about manatees and their habitats, how amazing it would be to experience all she had read in the books in real life. I regaled her with the stories of all we had seen so far, certain she would be enticed to jump back in. I was wrong. She firmly told me she was staying right where she was on the boat. 

Here's where things turned. After exhausting all my positive parenting skills, and being continuously shot down, I said to myself, okay, we'll do this another way. I stopped thinking of her and started thinking of all the people who knew we were taking this trip, all the people who would say to me why didn't you just make her do it? I can't believe you let her miss this opportunity. I put pressure on myself that her not participating was impolite to my in-laws who got this whole excursion as a gift for us, and mainly her. All the people who I would allow to make me feel like I was a less-than parent even if they weren't outright saying it, or even thinking it for that matter. I don't really have people in my life that would be rude about this. But any inkling of disappointment shown from someone else and my self esteem would spiral into it's all too well-known depths of self doubt. It was my own voice and thoughts and worries. My insecurities took over.

So here's where my switch flipped. Where I allowed my fear of what others might think to take over, my not understanding her why rather than the part of me who knows my kid, who knows that she is smart and strong willed and capable of making her own decisions. Something scared her, something didn't feel right, and she listened to her body and her mind. Isn't that what I have been aiming for her whole life? Teaching her to trust her instincts, be true to herself, check in and listen to herself. That is exactly what I want for her. I should have left it at that. I tried the positive things, I tried to be supportive, and my support is what she needed. My support and acceptance that she had made this decision for herself. But is that what I ultimately offered? No, it's not. So here comes the part I am even less proud of. I became a parent that I'm not, used a "tool" I have never used on my children and it shocked her just as much as I shocked myself. 

I told her that if she didn't change her mind, I was going to make her come. I told her if she couldn't tell me why she didn't want to go, if she didn't have a "good enough" reason, that I would simply drag her in the water with me. I think I smirked when I said it because I didn't even understand the words coming out of my mouth. I would never actually pull her into the water, I was obviously making a joke. But I also really wanted to just shake her and say "let's go!" I told her that she was missing out on a huge experience and that she would really regret not getting in that water. I didn't say it very kindly really, I was getting mad. I reminded her that she had told all her friends and family how excited she was about this manatee excursion and then asked what she was going to say when they all asked her how it was? (Cringe, cringe cringe...putting in her mind that it matters what other people think, that she should do something she isn't comfortable with just because others expect her to. Yuck.)

And then the real kicker. Which makes me actually wince to think about and cringe even more to share...I told her I was really disappointed in her and that I thought she was brave. I saw the hurt in her eyes. She stuck out her chin and said "I AM brave." 

Did I stop there? No. I was on a warpath now, taken over by some old school authoritative parenting technique that I never thought I would use. I said "Well, it doesn't seem like it because being brave is doing something even when you're afraid or nervous about it. And you're not doing that." 

That was that. There is the darkness I hate to even admit.

I hate that moment. She wasn't mad at me, she didn't give me the silent treatment or behave any differently, but once I snapped out of it, I felt broken. I felt like I could have broken her. I couldn't stop replaying the whole conversation in my mind over and over as we prepared to head back to the docks. As they began to pull up the anchor, I called her over and said, "I need to talk to you for just a minute, would you please come sit with me?"

I looked her right in the eyes and said "I'm sorry. I should have never said any of the things I said before. You are brave, you are smart and you made a very difficult decision for yourself and I am proud of you. I know how much you were looking forward to this and I'm not sure what happened, but if you ever feel ready to try again, I will be right here with you, if you want me to be. I hope you can accept my apology."

She hugged me and said "I accept your apology." I asked her for one more hug then sent her back to watch the manatees as we floated by large masses in the water. Even with her acceptance, I still shudder to think I created a terrible core memory for her when I looked straight at her and told her she wasn't brave. I am lucky she is forgiving and I hope she truly understood how wrong I was and saw that I was able to overcome that, admit I was wrong and apologize for it. But I still hate that I let it happen at all.

So, there it is. The hard truth. A glimpse into my darkness. Sometimes I really F up as a mom. But hopefully, we each take something away from this. I will try my damndest not to let my insecurities creep up and snap me into some type of monster, and hopefully Kennie sees her mom is human, flawed and humbled. So here I've shared something else that I worry I'll be judged about in hopes that by doing so, I let people see it isn't always rainbows and happy manatees raising miniature humans, or in life in general. And if you think you're upset while reading and picturing this interaction, imagine how I feel. That's right, how I still feel even though I talked with her after and she accepted my apology. It still stings for me and I don't really want to hit "post" on this...but sharing my not-quite-perfect seems important right now.

When a Book Just Hits...

So the kids and I read this book for the first time a few nights ago and I almost couldn't make it through. Okay, that sounds dramatic and I didn't actually cry but I got all the feels. It actually felt a bit like an out of body experience (ah ha! There's the drama;) But let me tell you why it pulled at my heartstrings big time and why I'm so thrilled it exists. 

For someone who has struggled with mental health issues for what feels like my entire life, to have a children's book connect this way is really special. 

I remember feeling the confusion and frustration of being depressed when seemingly nothing outside of my own brain was contributing to my unhappiness. I had friends, an awesome family, sports, singing, writing and all sorts of outlets I pursued and enjoyed. But I remember this dark mist surrounding me just blocking out the pure feeling of happiness. I often lived in this mist, unable to figure out what it was or how to get out of or through it. I would smile, I would participate, I would chat with friends, always playing the part of a regular me, but inside always wondering what and who that "me" was and what was wrong that I couldn't fully feel or embrace the happiness others seemed to. 

"Nimbus didn't know why she couldn't be sunny all the time." 

I don't think anyone can truly be happy ALL the time, but a chemical imbalance in your brain is different than just feeling sad. And this book, written for kids, put it out there so simply. It was done so beautifully that it left me slowly pouring over each word, holding my breath while turning the page, wondering how this author could really be speaking to my soul.  

And in such a short and sweet way. Simple enough for kids to understand, but deep enough for me to need to catch my breath after reading. I wish I had written this book myself. Nimbus tries all she can to push the cloud away, bury it, ignore it, everything I tried to do to my misty depression. She got by doing that well enough, until she didn't. Until it grew too big and exploded, allowing her to basically have a breakdown in front of all her friends that left her running away crying. 

But then she faced her cloud, she got to know it, she asked it questions, she interacted with it. She FELT her feelings. She decided she was ready to share her cloud, but who with? That's when her best friend showed back up, he'd been looking for her, finally found her and allowed and encouraged her to open up. He listened, he cared, he didn't judge. All things I try to teach my kids to do as a friend. And all things this book reinforced for them. 

Nimbus shares her worry with her friend and in doing so finds the courage to share her true self with everyone, finally feeling it's okay to not be sunny all the time.

Such a touching little message and one that I am so glad I got to share with my kids through a children's book. And one that I'm glad is out there in the world for all kids, so they know it's normal and okay to feel their feelings. And that there are friends out there who not only allow other people to share their clouds, but to embrace them, help carry their cloud along and sometimes even feel brave enough to share they have their own cloud, too.

I Love You More Again

 

I wrote this poem for a poetry contest (spoiler alert, I did not win🙃) last summer. On the eve of my oldest mini human turning one whole decade, I thought it might be nice to share❤️ The one who made me a mom, the most special and amazing thing I ever wished to be. The magic of being a mother is ever evolving.

I Love You More Again

Mother. 

Child. 

We are on this journey together, experiencing life for the first time. 

You’ve never seen the world,

I rediscover through your eyes, I show you what I know. 

But I’ve never seen the world like this. 

It’s brighter, more exciting, scarier, more beautiful. 

You learn to walk and I learn to watch. 

You learn to speak and I learn to listen. 

You grow, I gape. 

You learn to lead and I learn to let go. 

A breath, a blink, a moment, a lifetime.

Childhood fleets, motherhood lasts.

Everything changes but nothing changes at all.

I continue to repeat “I love you more.” 

More than when I found out about you.

More than when I met you.

More than your first smile sparkling up at me.

I surprise even myself, I love you more again.

I picture us 

together in what’s ahead,

still breathing, still blinking, still learning.

Then you, living new again; watching, listening, gaping. 

A new phase, an exquisite beauty we get to share together once more. 

I’m not surprised this time, 

I love you more again.

The Magic of Pratt: An Ode to Our Fave Place

For Christmas this year, my mini collaborators, editors and fact checkers and I wrote a poetry series for their nature school teachers. We tried to capture the magic of this place during all seasons, all the people, places, animals and education they receive there. While some of the rhymes are a stretch, and the flow can be rocky in spots (see what I did there??) we hope the sentiment is clear:)

The Magic of Pratt

We’ve all heard it said, Pratt’s a magical place

but what makes it so, more than any old space?

The people, for one, are unlike any other

and the land is there just waiting to be discovered.

A classroom without walls? But what will they learn?

Creativity, problem solving, physics, the life cycle of a worm!

Build an intricate fairy house with tiny twigs,

sit on a log, imagine you’re driving a big rig!

What’s that you say?

It’s all “just play?”

The tiny buildings and big ways to find thrills,

all develop fine and gross motor skills.

Emotional regulation, spatial awareness, stress reduction,

physical and mental well-being, the importance of collaboration.

If they’re wondering something, they figure it out.

Facilitating learning opportunities, what Pratt’s all about.

Spark a flame, not just of fire, but learning

solving the problem of most children’s yearning;

to be heard, listened to and understood.

Only Pratt people make something this good. 

In nature, neurons are connecting all over the place!

There isn’t much offered for kids where all this is the case. 

A childhood as smooth as tumbled river glass,

but open to the bumps and skinned knees full of grass

teaches the ways of the world

to children whose worries can unfurl

all because of one small thing

and the great amount of joy it brings.

The magic of Pratt is in Diane, Dave and Haley,

Sara and Jessica, Adam and Melanie. 

The kids get to embody their spirits

with an education they’re lucky more than just fits. 

It happens seamlessly and with lots of love,

Earth, soul and Pratt are what life is made of. 

Seasons at Pratt 

The newly green leaves rustling under the willow

welcome spring as goldenrod sprouts in the meadow. 

A time when not just the fields are in bloom,

children flourish too, if you just give them room. 

Room is one thing Pratt has and it’s teachers create,

helping children learn, grow and feel safe.

A hot summer day takes you to Gold Rush,

when you wade in, relieved by the river’s cool touch.

Then, you watch vibrant leaves fall with the breeze,

as deep breaths with your buddies fill you with relaxation and ease.

Below your boots, the brown leaves crunch

while the squirrels scatter, gather and munch.

The weather turns colder and the hill’s covered in snow

until giggles and screams break the silence of the fresh fallen glow.

With a Pratt education, there’s never a time to NOT be outside,

Pratt kids boot skate, puddle jump, sun bask and mud squish with pride.

What is it about Pratt?

It’s the sticks and rocks and mud,

the beavers damming and causing a flood.

It’s Eleanor’s excited bray

when gaggles of children come running her way.

It’s Pancake and Rosie plotting their hunt

to steal some lunches and pull off quite the stunt.

It’s catching frogs by the pond,

or carving sticks into wands.

It’s hiking past Willow to get to Corner Spot

or hiding in the phragmites when the sun is too hot. 

Some days it’s up to the top of the mountain

and watching the creeks flow like a fountain.  

It’s water rushing under the log along mermaid beach

where you have to be careful or your crocs might sail just out of reach.

It’s using fluffy duffys as they learn to spark,

taking precise aim at archery in hopes of hitting the mark.

It’s kids not wanting to leave at pickup,

climbing just one more time to fill up their cup.

Add this all together and what do we find?

A magic childhood that stays in their mind.

And the minds of all the Pratt lives that are touched

spread the magic of this place that we all love so much.

Life of a Pratt Parent

14 pair of extra clothes, well stocked in the car,

5,000 pieces of river glass tucked inside a jar.

Rocks and sticks and stones are everywhere;

pockets, dryers, in a bed isn’t even that rare!

Stains and mud on all the things  

are simple reminders of the joy Pratt brings.

Squishy squashy with each step,

excited to see their grownup

and show them the waterfall coming out of their boots

sometimes with pebbles or knotweed chutes.

Hauling that coveted branch across the street

to be brought home to a new stick family to meet,

adding to the corner of the garage pile,

laid out all together would cover more than a mile.

Collections of nature welcome, no matter what- 

even boulders weighing down backpacks- no ifs ands or buts. 

Being encouraged, “eat an autumn olive berry!”

puckering your way through, a little bit wary.

Oh, the things they know and the things they bring home

even the stories of Roger the gnome

hold a special place in all of our hearts,

thankful for the wisdom Pratt imparts.

Take off your glasses, it doesn’t matter, 

Everything is rose colored as long as Pratt people gather.

Differentiated Instruction

Differentiation: the process of tailoring lessons to meet each student's individual interests, strengths, and needs.  

Homeschooling: see above

It often surprises people that there aren’t many things I can take from my time as a teacher that have helped in our homeschool journey. So, I’m here to share one takeaway from my time in grad school and my experience in the classroom that has helped develop me as a homeschool mom, and that is the process of differentiating instruction. Last week put a spotlight on that in the most beautiful way. This semester in our co op, I’ve been teaching a building class for Charlie’s age group. These little engineers blow my mind every week, and the moments of planned and on-the-fly differentiating happen weekly as well. But recently we had actual building kits. Like hammer, nails, screws, wood glue building sets. With step by step instructions. I was a little wary of how it might go with my little buddies who don’t love directions like that. 

Children inherently think outside the box. Until and unless they’re told not to. The freedom in homeschooling allows for my kids and their friends who I get to teach, is that there isn’t really anyone telling them not to think outside that box. They're actually encouraged to follow their outside-the-box thinking. And let me tell you, it is so very cool to see where it takes them! And while there is a time and place for following stringent directions, my class full of 5-7 year olds isn’t one of them. 

So let me paint you the picture;

After covering all the safety measures of children using hammers, nails and screwdrivers, the kids were ready to open their kits and begin building. In my mind, I thought we would all do the first step together, then move onto the next, and so on. (Take note-I used to teach a classroom full of public school children…following directions to a T was necessary, important and praised.) 

What unfolded in my classroom that morning was certainly not what my holding-on-for-dear-life-teacher-brain had envisioned. Sure, there were a few kids who wanted to follow the steps in order and sought the reassurance they were doing it right and ready to move to the next step. But then there were the ones who didn’t. My son being one of them. He moved himself to an empty table, laid out all the materials in front of him and began putting things together simply because they looked like they should go together. First, I panicked and was a bit annoyed with him, if I'm being honest. They were making binoculars and if he didn’t put it together correctly it wouldn’t work. Then I saw his determination to simply complete a task, just build. 

He had the picture and word directions in front of him but barely glanced at them, so I let him be (after one minor correction of showing that the reason what he was doing wasn’t working was because he was using a screw instead of a nail.) He didn’t want to hear it from me, so I walked away only to glance over my shoulder to see him hammering a nail where he was previously trying to drive in a screw.

Another one of my kiddos asked if he could go on building without waiting for everyone to get to the next step, to which I said of course. This kid was actually looking at the pictures and interpreting them himself. The curve of his lens was backwards and one of the wood pieces was upside down, but he worked diligently. And yet another who was trying very hard to “keep up” until I told him that everyone was going at their own pace and he could too, and that if he needed any help, I was there for him. I saw him relax after that and begin to do his own thing until he came across a problem which he solved himself. The table was shaking from his peers hammering and he couldn’t align the nail properly which was frustrating him. So he took his things and moved to an empty table and completed his next few steps there. 

Meanwhile, back in Charlie land, a complete set was built. Were there pieces facing the “wrong” direction? Yes. Was each piece of wood perfectly aligned with its partner? Nope. But did I have a kid beaming at me with a finished product that he made all by himself? Yes. Yes, I did. And it made me so proud watching these kids figure this all out. Each had a set of binoculars that they were so proud to have built. Were these binoculars going to help them truly see things far away? Doubtful. And my students (which I don't really like to call them, because I see myself as more of a facilitator than a teacher and them more as collaborators than students...but that's another blog post) helped me to see that didn’t matter. These kids are 5, 6 and 7 years old. There will be a time they’ll need to follow the directions closely in order to have a working end product. But they helped me to see I am solely laying the foundation for those future instances.

 

The week prior to this lesson, my kids and I read a book about the man who created the first balloons for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (Tony Sarg, look him up, it’s pretty cool) and what he was like as a child. When he was six years old, his dad gave him a chore to feed the chickens at 6:00 every morning. Little Tony didn’t want to get out of bed at 6 am so he rigged up a pulley system that went from his bedroom window to the door of the chicken coop. He put the food out in the evening before he went to sleep and closed the chickens in the coop. When his alarm went off at 6 am, he sat up in bed, pulled the string from his bedroom window, opening the chicken coop door and letting all the chickens out to eat the feed he left the night before. Without ever leaving the warmth of his bed.

This made us think; most of the books we’ve read about famous inventors, scientists and engineers, all tell a similar story of their younger selves. Thomas Edison, the Wright Brothers, Albert Einstein…all “different” kids who didn't do things the way society (and/or their teachers) said they should. They tinkered and played and made things work in ways people didn’t think they could. Imagine if these children stopped questioning, wondering, tinkering and playing in a way that made sense to them. Their inventions were rarely, if ever, perfect the first time or two, or three, or more! But they kept pushing forward, trying in a different way, skipping over a few steps or adding in their own. But they created the light bulb, an airplane and the freaking theory of relativity! Maybe I should have seen what would happen if I didn't point out to Charlie to use a nail instead of a screw! 

Anyhow, my point is if we are meant to educate our children, why can’t we do that in a way that is most beneficial for them? I used to love coming up with ways to differentiate in my classroom; something for the kids who needed a challenge, something for the kids who needed a little extra time or help. And now? All we do is differentiated instruction! I love that I just continue to recognize more and more ways that homeschooling is right for us. Their world is open, their education is endless and their drive and passion to learn is infinite. And me? I'm just lucky to be part of it.

Filling Back Up

I remember reading an article early on in my parenting about a mom who asked for a night in a hotel for Mother’s Day. I also remember my reaction to that article and that request. I thought it was strange, to put it kindly. I waited my whole life to be a mom, I loved being a mom and I couldn’t imagine requesting to not only have a specific planned time away from my child, but on Mother’s Day of all times! I’m not proud to admit it, but I definitely judged the mom featured in the article. 

Cut to me, sitting in a hotel room writing this, a number of years later. It’s not Mother’s Day, but a random Tuesday where I have chosen to take time for me. It still even makes me uncomfortable to say out loud and the fear of being judged is there too. What I needed to learn was that while I haven’t ever felt like I lost myself in parenting, I have lost something. My ability to take care of myself. I published a whole piece once about how I actually found myself in motherhood, but it doesn’t mean I don’t need to replenish in order to function at my best. My best as a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister, and a friend. 

So, real talk coming in here- the last month or so was hard. My mental health was not okay. On top of being bipolar and suffering from often crippling anxiety, I began feeling like I was drowning. I began seeing a version of myself that disappointed me, made me feel weak, and honestly, scared me. I am a good mom. Like, a really good one. But I wasn’t seeing that mom in myself. I enjoy exploring outdoors with my kids, doing projects and crafts, reading hundreds of books, answering the why’s and working together to find the answers to the ones I don’t know. I enjoy the parts of motherhood some find mundane, like packing lunches and sudsing up a mini human’s little blonde head. I love the hard parts of parenting because they challenge me and make me better. But recently, I got lost. The projects and crafts were more of a chore, I would set them up to paint or play with clay solely so I could sit on the couch and do nothing. I’d read books but wasn’t feeling the joy of watching their eyes light up with wonderment at each page. The questions became incessant and annoying rather than the usual awesome opportunity to learn together. Packing lunches and other mom duties I’ve grown to love became endless chores I slugged my way through.

And on top of all of those changes, I found my patience thin and my monster coming out far more often than I care to admit. I would yell, snap and scream at things I would normally be able to either handle calmly or walk away from to catch my breath for a minute. I worked hard in the early years of toddlerhood, then mother of two-hood to research the psychology of children, the psychology of positive parenting. I was good at it. But recently? I lost all those tools and succumbed to yelling, threatening and not so positive behaviors. I don’t mean I was like this ALL the time. I just found my reactions were bigger and angrier than usual more than I would have liked. But that means all my kids saw was inconsistency. Mommy was kind, gentle and helpful when I spilled something this morning, and now she is freaking out and yelling when I spilled something tonight. 

I saw it in their reactions. When one would have some sort of accident; spill something, break something, get paint on something, etc., they’d immediately say “sorry mommy! I’m sorry! It was an accident!” and my heart would crumble because I knew what was making them react like that. 

My normal response to those types of situations? “That’s okay, what can we do to fix it?” Get a paper towel, a wipe, some glue or tape, etc. then we fix the problem together. But the inconsistency in my parenting was not just killing me, it was hurting and confusing them. Am I a perfect positive parent at all times normally? No. Gosh, no. But my reactions and general attitude sucked for a bit recently. Sucked bad. And it’s because I was burnt out. I am a stay at home and homeschooling mom. I do everything with and for my kids. And I love that I am able to live life like this. I get to watch them learn and grow and communicate, make mistakes, and navigate their way through life. I am here for it all. And happy to be so. But it also means that I lost myself in giving. Physically and emotionally completely depleted and drained. Drained and numb. My inconsistency and terrible attitude, quick temper, irritability, all came from being empty. So empty I felt like I was a shell of the person I know myself to be. 

So, here I am in a hotel. By myself. Filling back up so I can get back to the version of me I love. The mom who is caring, understanding, open and healthy. The friend who is there when you need her, the wife who doesn’t walk past her husband without pausing for a kiss because her mind is reeling with the thousand things she needs to get done. I know I bring a lot of my stress on myself. I want my kids to have the best, I want to be there for them, I want to provide opportunities for them to thrive. I am in constant GO mode. I’m currently working on how to ensure I don’t fall below empty again. I need to rely on others and not feel like I am putting someone out, I need to accept help when it’s offered and I need to stop feeling selfish or guilty for taking time for myself. I’m journaling again, I’m setting healthy boundaries for myself and I am working on being more mindful of how I’m feeling so I don’t get to a place where I just want to sit on the couch and scroll mindlessly on my phone just to go blank for a few minutes. 

I am a work in progress and it shows by the fact that I am sitting here writing this on a trip away from my family just for me when I hardcore judged that mom in the article years ago for doing the same thing. And I am sending an apology to that mom for being a judgy jerk and doubting her choices. Good for her for knowing what she needs, acknowledging her feelings and making time to take care of herself. Now it’s my turn.