Secretly Teaching My Daughter to Embrace the Messy/ Beautiful in Life

The other day I had a typical proud MOM moment.  Like the many before this one, I stared at my daughter and thought YEP, she’s a genius!  Luckily for me, I usually get brought back down to reality quick enough that I don’t start calling news agencies and boasting that I have the next Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds in the making.  Yes, my daughter is smart, beautiful and creative but she’s probably not a super genius wiz kid. PROBABLY.

But on this morning I was “Momming” around the house… you know cleaning, picking up and organizing… when I picked up her coloring book to put away.  Flipping back to the front, I noticed she had already gone ham on this new book as the pages were starting to fill quickly.  I immediately noticed a castle outline with coloring already in the works… and it was, for a 2 year old girl, AMAZING.  I was stunned at how inside the lines she was and how she had even started a pattern for the colors.  So impressed in fact, that I asked Abasi if it was his work, which thankfully it was not since he’s 36 and I know he’s got a better coloring game than that!  I couldn’t believe it… how could a little girl color so well, so neat and so organized?

I mean, she’s 2… wow, right?

 

And almost before I got through the thought in my head, I felt a sudden urge of panic.

Not an uncontrollable, debilitative panic but a small sensation running up my spine telling me to pay attention to something.  I knew immediately what it was.  The drawing was too neat and clean, too put together for a little girl.  I wanted her to go crazy, be messy, have fun with it, not worry about staying inside the lines too much.

And trust me, I would never say this to her… this stays between us.  I will encourage and applaud her drawings, neat or messy.  But I want to make sure she is embracing all the beauty that comes with being a little crazy, a little messy and a little imperfect.  This wasn’t a ground breaking, life shattering turn of events for Kennedy, she will never be the wiser, but now as her Mama, I have a secret mission: to help her embrace the messy and beautiful parts of life.

It’s along the same lines of cheering and clapping when a baby falls down.  They look immediately to your face to determine if this is something they should cry about, be hurt because of.  If you make a happy-big deal about it, they get excited again and keep on moving.  I want to be like that for every little messy part of Kennedy’s life.  Her biggest cheerleader (ugh, yes I said it) for big or small events that go either as planned or not according to plan.  I want her to know that not being perfect IS PERFECT.  She doesn’t have to get straight A’s, never have braces, win every game or keep every hair in it’s place, as long as she is giving it her all.  She can fall down, get up, go out on a limb, cry, wipe her eyes, take chances, fail and then succeed again because THAT is what it is all about in this crazy/ beautiful life.

Some people will get this, others will not.  That’s ok.  For me, I look at that picture and see how well done it was and know she is already on her way to being amazing.  She’s got it in her and I can’t wait to watch her grow and succeed like I know she will.  But I also know from my own experiences, that it’s not always about drawing inside the lines.  Doing something crazy, taking chances and making mistakes is how we learn and grow.  Some days we will be a perfectly colored castle and other days we will be a Jackson Pollock piece of art… and that is beautiful.

 

Kindness of a Stranger, Strength of Yourself

Yesterday got off to a swinging start.  Running late at 8am to meet an installation technician at Lazy Mon, I knew I had to get gas or I would never make it to the bar at all.  Hoping on all hopes that I wouldn’t run out of gas before getting to the station, I headed out of town to spend over $5 a gallon… yea, that’s right.  Keep all of the posts on Facebook coming about how cheap gas is in the States right now, I REALLY LOVE seeing them.  Not.

Where was I?  Oh, right.

So, there I was, almost at the gas station and sure enough I ran out of gas.  Taking it for what it was and not freaking out, I grab the empty gallon container out of the trunk and walk the half mile to grab some “get there gas.”

Sure enough, upon arriving at the gas station on foot, one of my not-so-favorite local “pharmacists” is pulling up on his moped and laughingly asks if I want a ride.  Of course he already knew the answer, but I politely declined.  He laughs and rides off.  I curse him in my head and smile.

Moving on.

I grab my $5 gallon of gas and head back to my truck.  It’s not a far walk and I actually don’t mind it with the clouds clearing and sun shining over head.  Walking along the road, I mentally check my list of what I need to fill my tank.

Empty water bottle. Check.

Stick. Check.

Gallon of gas. Check.

Knife to cut open bottle.  GOOSE EGG.

Being resourceful, I figure I can make a hole with my keys and then rip it open.  Clearly, this is not my first rodeo running out of gas.

I get back to my car and start to assemble my goods while not being side swept, when a random older man zooms past on his motorcycle.  I notice that he sees me, passes me and then turns around.  When he comes back he asks if I need help and I ask “tienes un cuchillo?” Do you have a knife?

The man sees the bottle in my hand, says something incomprehensible and zooms past me in the direction he originally came.  Figuring he was trying to help, I wait a beat for his return.  A minute later he comes back with a cut 2 liter bottle, grabs a stick and like a well-oiled machine we work together to pour the gas into the car.  Mission accomplished, I close the tank, thank him and without another word save for “con gusto” he jumps on his bike and leaves.  No strings.  No expectations.  No lingering.  Just good old fashioned help.

And to be honest… I didn’t need his help.  I had already done the “hard” part of walking a mile or so to and from the gas station with the gas.  I essentially had the tools I needed or at least the creativity to make it happen.  But there is an adrenaline rush that comes with both receiving and giving help to a stranger for the sole purpose of doing good.  The rush that comes with truly selfless acts and glimpses of a positive society.  Who was I to deny either one of us of that rare luxury?

The point of my story is two fold.  For one, we are embarking on a new year in less than 10 hours and resolutions aside, let’s just do selfless acts.  Let’s help people for no other reason than to help people.  You don’t have to help someone every single day, but most days or even some days can change a lot of people’s lives… even if it is just BRIGHTENING someone’s day after they ran out of gas on the side of the road.

And the other point of my story is to the ladies.  Often we are stuck in a world between trying to show how strong and independent we are while being beautiful and soft.  I once had a wise woman tell me that I didn’t have to be so scared to let other people help me- that it didn’t make me weak.  I think she was right.  I can be strong and beautiful, independent and ladylike.  I didn’t need that man’s help, but I took it.  Allow yourself to be treated like a lady, but be prepared like a warrior.  Either way, you’re good to go.

Happy New Year to everyone.  Love your family, enjoy your friends, laugh a lot, love often, show kindness, show gratitude, be strong, be soft, be accepting of help and offer it whenever possible.  The simplest of gestures can turn out to be grander than you think.

 

Stop Drinking the Hate Juice: Learning to Celebrate Another Mother’s Efforts

WOW, can you hear that? No, you can’t because it’s called silence. The pounding and jackhammering in my head has finally subsided. And now that the mini construction demons are done sandblasting their way through my skull and my nose has returned to actually smelling things, I am happy to say I’m BACCKK!! But with me come my thoughts and opinions from the last couple of fog-brained and drugged days of consciousness. And like my main man Abasi loves to say, “opinions are like a&#holes… everyone’s got ‘em and they all stink!”

And trust me, my following thoughts might cause a stink…

2 days ago I read an article in the NY Post, by Karol Markowicz, that had been going around a few of my friends’ newsfeeds. It was titled “Modern Moms Looking for Perfection in All the Wrong Places” and even before I read it, I felt my cheeks beginning to tingle. Upon reading it, my initial response was indeed… DAMN! That stings!

I felt like I had been personally slapped in the face by the author. Why was I so directly offended by a person I didn’t even know? For starters, it could have been because as I sat there feeling snubbed and sorry for myself, I could literally see from the corner of my eye, the finger painted t-shirt Kennedy had just finished drying on the table. Gut punch delivered.

And then, clearly I had sat there frozen with frustration for too long, because as if to finish me off, my screen saver mockingly cascaded pictures of Kennedy’s 2^nd birthday party, Minnie Mouse themed all over my laptop… do-it-yourself Minnie ears and all. Upper cut… call the match.

At first I was annoyed because it felt like I was personally being told… “You try to hard.” “Stop faking perfection!” Trust me, ain’t no one faking perfection over here. Like you might have read in my first blog post, “The Perfect Moment to Share,” I believe everyone is entitled to beautiful moments and should show them off. They are your perfect moments, be proud of them. But I’ll be damned if I act like I have it all together.

I will be the first one to admit that Kennedy initially started going to “school” (daycare) at a year and half, BECAUSE I NEEDED TIME to get back to being me. To have time to work out or do yoga or go to the freaking beach without chasing a toddler. Or watch NCIS: Los Angeles uninterrupted. OR JUST TO BREATHE. I needed those 4 hours a day, 5 days a week to remember I was a human being. Doesn’t sound so perfect, does it? I could care less, I feel great, she has friends, learns things daily and we’re all better for it.

And that homemade t-shirt, finger painted to perfection… you bet your ass that’s going on Instgram, but wanna know the real reason behind it? You think I just want to expose my daughter to “the arts?”   Yea sure, that too. But what it really does is gives us something to do for 20 minutes a day in one spot. When we’re done, I can figure out what to do for the next 13 hours and 40 minutes of “awake time.” Cut me some slack if I’m proud enough of the finished product that came from my “toddler control/ mama sanity methods.” Ps: We painted a mug the next day, and I love that too…

And what the hell is this about the “old days?” Do we really want to go back to a time when we would just throw our kids in front of a TV dinner and walk away to shake up some martinis? Believe you me, I’m 27 years old and my mother had a home cooked meal on the table for us EVERY NIGHT of the week… and still had time for a cocktail. Because she’s awesome. And so awesome in fact, that this trend of “newly themed birthdays” must really be holding on something fierce because I had themed birthdays and homemade carousel birthday cakes in the 80’s and 90’s. That’s a hell of a “fad” if you ask me.

You know what we, as a society, did do 30 or more years ago? Smoke during pregnancies, drive without seat belts and use minimal to no sunscreen. If you ask me, thank God we’ve made some discoveries and adaptations to our parenting abilities.

But then I woke up, after 2 days of bed-ridden contemplation and as the last cloud drifted from my refreshed brain, I realized why I was truly pissed off at this article.  BECAUSE THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT!

In a world where war, poverty, starving children and rapists run rampant, why in the world are we accusing from one mother to another of trying too hard or trying to live up to something we’re not. Is the fact that I made a Minnie Mouse shaped cake to match the plates and the balloons and the invitations really that big of a deal? Is the fact that I prefer home cooked meals IF possible over take out or processed, something that really just means I’m “over thinking parenting?” HELL NO!  It’s simply my choice.

There are women who beat their children, drop their children off in dumpsters and do things to them that as a woman and a mother, I am unprepared to type. You know these monsters. We all read about them in our every day news. Yet, instead of congratulating another mother on her job well done we simply scoff and assume she’s fakin’ it till she makes it.

Shame on us.

Shame on us for not lifting one another up. For not recognizing that every parent and specifically mother is on her own journey and experience and only doing AS GOOD AS SHE KNOWS HOW. Shame on us for not supporting and celebrating the accomplishments and victories other mothers have, as much as we punish and chastise the mothers that do evil. Shame on us for shaming other mothers.

To be fair, I do agree with Mrs. Markowicz when she says, “Make sure your child’s life is fun and meaningful, instead of pretty and picturesque.” Truer words have never been spoken.  I want nothing more in this entire world than for my daughter to be healthy, happy and full of love.  But instead of holding anything at all in contempt of another person, just celebrate what they do well and move on. And maybe at some point you remember that your friend Susie Homemaker is fantastic at making centerpieces, call on her for help and guidance. In return and gratitude, offer your services at something you excel at, whatever it may be. If we were a society more interested in supporting not ONLY the children of our future, but the people raising our futures, we may be pleasantly surprised at the examples we demonstrate and the outcomes from it.

Personally, I enjoy making Halloween costumes, painting and cooking. They are some of my super mama strengths. I lack in patience and the ability to listen to the same God-awful cartoons day in and day out. I don’t believe in giving my toddler a bath every single day. I am a vegetarian, but I let her eat meat if it means she will eat SOMETHING! I am not perfect, but I am trying. I am doing the very best that I can in the journey that I am on, with the tools that I have available to me. And the one universal tool happens to be love. We all have it, we all use it, some to open different doors than others, but we all have it. Recognize your path, respect that someone else’s journey is different and at all cost, just lift one another up towards the common goal of loving and protecting our children and you have succeeded.

Rant over.