So, I debated about writing anything about Mother's Day. After all, it's a day filled with all sorts of complicated feelings and it's been written about like, everywhere else on the internet. So, who needs to read yet another Mother's Day post, right?
But apparently, I'm not here to please, cause I'm going there anyway, and I'm doin' it 2 days late.
I enjoyed my day for two reasons. First, I skipped Church. And second, I focused really hard on not feeling any guilt. Thus the reason for skipping church, which, of course, caused its own kind of guilt, but that's another subject for another day.
I don't believe Mothers Day was invented with the intent of producing a bunch of guilt wrenched, sobbing women. Thus, I refused to feel or act that way. Sadly, it was kind of hard. I had to work at staying away from my feelings, pushing them into the background and forcing myself to enjoy being pampered and celebrated with gifts from my kids and husband. I felt like I was teetering on the edge all day. One false move and I could dissolve into a puddle faster than ice cream in Utah August weather.
For me, as a Mormon, I believe that part of the problem is that it falls on a Sunday and is thus tied to church. And church is nothing if not guilt producing.
Don't get me wrong, not all guilt is bad and if it can spur you, or me, into action to make positive changes then it served a purpose. But all too often the guilt associated with mothers day concerns things we can not change. Like the speaker that stands up and rejoices that every child they raised served a mission and married in the temple and is now Bishop, (yes, I'm using an LDS example), leaving the poor mother (and father for that matter) seated in the audience feeling like a failure because all her children left the church. Guess what? It doesn't make her a bad mother. Yet she will feel guilt and it will be useless because she is powerless to change those circumstances.
My guilt comes from knowing that I could be doing better. It comes from knowing that I hate this job of homemaker. And it comes from knowing that I hate myself and the kind of mother and person I've become.
I don't say that to throw myself a pity party or to induce, "But you're doing the best you can, I'm sure there's lots to love about you!" consolation comments. I say it because I know I'm better than this and I hate the choices I've made that have put me where I am. I can honestly say there is very little that I like about myself. And again, this isn't a pity party, I'm being honest.
And the worst part is, I don't seem to have the energy it takes to change.
I keep blaming that on the depression but the truth is the blame is all on my shoulders because I have refused to get help.
The other night my dh said something, I can't remember what, but I do remember what I screamed back at him in my head. It went something like this,
"DO YOU EVEN KNOW! DO YOU HAVE ANY FREAKIN' IDEA HOW DEPRESSED I AM!!! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE IT!!"
To which the reply came back quickly, " Of course he doesn't know, you hide it from him."
A while ago I wrote about creating small goals, baby steps, referencing one of my favorite movies, What About Bob?, in an effort to keep things light and manageable. I recognize that one of my down falls is all or nothing thinking. Meaning if I can't do something perfect, I'd rather not do it at all. That is a tough way to live. And unfortunately, I usually end up on the "not doing it at all" side of things. So my idea was to take it one step at a time, one day at a time, making teeny tiny goals I can't possibly fail at. Well, apparently I also lack patience because with teeny tiny goals comes teeny tiny progress and with that came frustration. I'm not seeing any results so what's the point!
So now I feel like I'm back at square one and I have no clue what to do.
Well back to the topic at hand, Mothers Day. I enjoyed my day for the most part. I'm not a perfect mother and neither is anyone else so let's just say screw the ideal and celebrate what we are right now.
That works for me.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Kind of Random
My last post on motherhood was a refreshing change from my usual whining and lamenting and my "look how depressed I am" mantra. Even I was getting sick of myself.
The post was brought on by something I read on another blog and I almost commented there, but it looked like the argument had been going on for awhile and I didn't feel like jumping in. I think I would have been in the minority because one common argument I heard over and over again was "It's not the quantity but the quality of time you spend with your kids."
I happen to not agree with that. It basically boils down to my experience and belief that with little kids, quality time is hard to plan. For me, being there whenever my child needs me, is quality time. Whether he's tired and cranky, or has just fallen down, or wants to show me something he just built or colored, or if he just wants to see me, just to know that I'm there. That, to me, is quality time. And you can't schedule those moments.
This isn't an attempt to argue in favor of being a SAHM, it's just my attempt at disputing the claim that if you're not totally engaged with your child 24/7, he'd be better off at a daycare.
That's all. The end.
So the depression thing isn't going away, it's probably getting worse, and it's getting old. Maybe the best thing for me is to just focus on something else for awhile. Forget myself, so to speak. Stick to other subjects for awhile.
Mmmm....what else is there for me to talk about?
Well, I want to go back to school. And I want to take a cooking class. And start a garden. And eat less meat.
Wow. I'm fascinating.
You just never know what I'll come up with next.
The post was brought on by something I read on another blog and I almost commented there, but it looked like the argument had been going on for awhile and I didn't feel like jumping in. I think I would have been in the minority because one common argument I heard over and over again was "It's not the quantity but the quality of time you spend with your kids."
I happen to not agree with that. It basically boils down to my experience and belief that with little kids, quality time is hard to plan. For me, being there whenever my child needs me, is quality time. Whether he's tired and cranky, or has just fallen down, or wants to show me something he just built or colored, or if he just wants to see me, just to know that I'm there. That, to me, is quality time. And you can't schedule those moments.
This isn't an attempt to argue in favor of being a SAHM, it's just my attempt at disputing the claim that if you're not totally engaged with your child 24/7, he'd be better off at a daycare.
That's all. The end.
So the depression thing isn't going away, it's probably getting worse, and it's getting old. Maybe the best thing for me is to just focus on something else for awhile. Forget myself, so to speak. Stick to other subjects for awhile.
Mmmm....what else is there for me to talk about?
Well, I want to go back to school. And I want to take a cooking class. And start a garden. And eat less meat.
Wow. I'm fascinating.
You just never know what I'll come up with next.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Bing, Bam, Boom
Mommy Wars. We're all familiar with them. The judging, the criticizing, the looks passed when the proud, breast-feeding mama watches another mama whip out her bottle.
We all have our opinions.
I have a few opinions of my own. And I'm the first to admit that those opinions have changed drastically since I've, ahem, actually had children.
Yeah, I had a few apologies to make after my first born.
I hope I never did it to their faces, you know, argue with an actual mother about what it's like as I sat there with my firm tummy and pre-baby boobs and well rested eyes. Because if I did, I was an idiot. I remember when a childless friend did that to me after my first born. He was about a year and a half at the time, and we sat in a restaurant, me, struggling to convince my toddler to stay in his seat, and her, well, just sitting. Enjoying her meal. Actually eating. Not trying to catch anyone's food flying through the air. Telling me that it was the parents that shaped the child's behavior. That it was the parenting that determined the child's personality. While she looked with obvious disapproval at my (rather unusually) rambunctious child.
When I tried to tell her that a child is not born a blank slate, that he has a personality upon entering this world, she continued to argue with me about the great influence of the parents.
This childless woman was trying to tell me it was my fault the toddler didn't want to sit quietly in his chair and listen to boring adult conversation.
I was angry. And if another friend hadn't intervened, her dinner very well could have ended with a wet finger in her ear and a face full of baby slobber for good measure. When, a few years later, I learned she was expecting, I viciously hoped she'd conceive one with a "child from hell" personality. She deserved it.
Unfortunately, I quickly learned that it wasn't just the childless that were judging. Other mothers were judging too. It was the breast vs. bottle, co-sleeping vs. crib, bed times, bath times, when to start solids, color of car seat and matching stroller, nursery decor, when to start pre-school and the big one : working vs. stay-at-home.
Every parent has an experience where they felt judged by the other side. SAHM's have felt belittled, made to feel that they don't do anything. Working moms (there's probably an acronym for that too, isn't there), have been accused of not actually raising their own kids. There are arguments and pros and cons on both sides. And everyone can make a good argument as too why their way is the right way for them. And then we all agree we shouldn't judge, and then it all happens again.
I have my own reasons for being a SAHM. And I have my reasons for wanting to go back to work some day. And that's great that I have those reasons. But it's not great that I have to defend them. It's not great that other mothers care whether I work or not. Or whether I nursed or not. Or whether I had him sleeping through the night by 6 weeks like a "good" mother would. Or whatever other nonsense.
What other mothers really should be concerned about is how my child behaves when at your home. Whether or not my child is someone who has a positive influence on your child. Is he nice? Does he play well with others? Is this someone you want your child to be friends with? Is my home safe for your child to play at? Will I be nice when he's over, or do I yell and scream and scare your child? Because that is when my parenting choices affect you. If my child is distruptive in school, gets your child in trouble, lies or hurts him. If your child comes home from my house scared, or with a new vocabulary, That is when you have reason to stick your nose in my business. And hopefully you'll do it with compassion and understanding, offering support and help.
My children are old enough now that I have to judge their friends. I need to know what kind of influence they may be. And that usually leads to judgements on their family. I have questions I have to ask. Is it safe to let my son play there? Will a parent be there? What kind of video games do they allow them to play? Do you regularly beat your child? And on and on.
But I'm not asking them if their 8 yr old was breast feed. Or where he slept. Or what his sleeping schedule was like. Or how many arts and crafts were done during those early years and how many times you held him in a sling for maximum interaction potential. Or, better yet, how many years of day-care has he had.
Because those are not the questions that matter.
And we really shouldn't be asking them.
We all have our opinions.
I have a few opinions of my own. And I'm the first to admit that those opinions have changed drastically since I've, ahem, actually had children.
Yeah, I had a few apologies to make after my first born.
I hope I never did it to their faces, you know, argue with an actual mother about what it's like as I sat there with my firm tummy and pre-baby boobs and well rested eyes. Because if I did, I was an idiot. I remember when a childless friend did that to me after my first born. He was about a year and a half at the time, and we sat in a restaurant, me, struggling to convince my toddler to stay in his seat, and her, well, just sitting. Enjoying her meal. Actually eating. Not trying to catch anyone's food flying through the air. Telling me that it was the parents that shaped the child's behavior. That it was the parenting that determined the child's personality. While she looked with obvious disapproval at my (rather unusually) rambunctious child.
When I tried to tell her that a child is not born a blank slate, that he has a personality upon entering this world, she continued to argue with me about the great influence of the parents.
This childless woman was trying to tell me it was my fault the toddler didn't want to sit quietly in his chair and listen to boring adult conversation.
I was angry. And if another friend hadn't intervened, her dinner very well could have ended with a wet finger in her ear and a face full of baby slobber for good measure. When, a few years later, I learned she was expecting, I viciously hoped she'd conceive one with a "child from hell" personality. She deserved it.
Unfortunately, I quickly learned that it wasn't just the childless that were judging. Other mothers were judging too. It was the breast vs. bottle, co-sleeping vs. crib, bed times, bath times, when to start solids, color of car seat and matching stroller, nursery decor, when to start pre-school and the big one : working vs. stay-at-home.
Every parent has an experience where they felt judged by the other side. SAHM's have felt belittled, made to feel that they don't do anything. Working moms (there's probably an acronym for that too, isn't there), have been accused of not actually raising their own kids. There are arguments and pros and cons on both sides. And everyone can make a good argument as too why their way is the right way for them. And then we all agree we shouldn't judge, and then it all happens again.
I have my own reasons for being a SAHM. And I have my reasons for wanting to go back to work some day. And that's great that I have those reasons. But it's not great that I have to defend them. It's not great that other mothers care whether I work or not. Or whether I nursed or not. Or whether I had him sleeping through the night by 6 weeks like a "good" mother would. Or whatever other nonsense.
What other mothers really should be concerned about is how my child behaves when at your home. Whether or not my child is someone who has a positive influence on your child. Is he nice? Does he play well with others? Is this someone you want your child to be friends with? Is my home safe for your child to play at? Will I be nice when he's over, or do I yell and scream and scare your child? Because that is when my parenting choices affect you. If my child is distruptive in school, gets your child in trouble, lies or hurts him. If your child comes home from my house scared, or with a new vocabulary, That is when you have reason to stick your nose in my business. And hopefully you'll do it with compassion and understanding, offering support and help.
My children are old enough now that I have to judge their friends. I need to know what kind of influence they may be. And that usually leads to judgements on their family. I have questions I have to ask. Is it safe to let my son play there? Will a parent be there? What kind of video games do they allow them to play? Do you regularly beat your child? And on and on.
But I'm not asking them if their 8 yr old was breast feed. Or where he slept. Or what his sleeping schedule was like. Or how many arts and crafts were done during those early years and how many times you held him in a sling for maximum interaction potential. Or, better yet, how many years of day-care has he had.
Because those are not the questions that matter.
And we really shouldn't be asking them.
Friday, April 3, 2009
I Woke Up
to birds chirping.
I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. I felt a flicker of annoyance at first, but only a flicker. Then, surprisingly, a positive thought entered my mind.
Surely, waking up to sounds of spring is a good omen, right?
And yet, it was snowing outside.
It was snowing. And I woke up to the sound of birds chirping.
I woke up. And right there, first thing, had a positive thought.
Not my usual morning routine.
I like to think they were there just for me. Nestled in the tree in front of my window, waiting to sing me a good morning song. Waiting to tell me, if they can sing when the skies are dark and gloomy....
So can I.
I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. I felt a flicker of annoyance at first, but only a flicker. Then, surprisingly, a positive thought entered my mind.
Surely, waking up to sounds of spring is a good omen, right?
And yet, it was snowing outside.
It was snowing. And I woke up to the sound of birds chirping.
I woke up. And right there, first thing, had a positive thought.
Not my usual morning routine.
I like to think they were there just for me. Nestled in the tree in front of my window, waiting to sing me a good morning song. Waiting to tell me, if they can sing when the skies are dark and gloomy....
So can I.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
A Month
Monday, Feb. 23rd was my last post. A month sure goes by fast. What has happened in a month?
Well, my sweetheart and I celebrated our 12th anniversary. And instead of being happy, I had this overwhelming feeling of unworthiness. He is so much better to me than I am to him. Nice, positive thinking there.
I've been getting on the treadmill a lot more lately. It's getting a little boring as we have the treadmill in this empty room with no tv for entertainment. I listen to my ipod but after a couple of miles,(which is as far as I've been able to go) it gets boring. Going outside would be nice, but then I have to take the toddler and I don't have a jogging stroller. Our regular stroller works okay, but is a little harder to keep straight. And getting up before my husband leaves for work is simply not an option right now. I just don't have it in me. So the treadmill it is and it's better than nothing.
I went snow skiing one day. It was so lovely. I came home bruised and sore and wishing I could go every weekend. Some day we will have the money to make this a family outing. Until then I will continue to rely on my generous father for my once-a-year ski day.
The thought of going skiing always exhausts me, but once I'm there, I remember why this is the only sport I enjoy. It's thrilling, it's exciting, it's in the mountains, it's fresh air and it's beautiful. I want to ski forever, until of course, my legs turn into jello and I go straight down that last run hoping I don't have to turn because I just don't have the strength for it.
I love it.
I socialized. I hated every other second of it but I did it. And I committed to doing it again on account of the fact that it was only every other second I hated. I'm going back for those every other seconds I enjoyed.
I had some productive days, and some not so productive days. This week my mornings have been bad, I haven't been sleeping well and have felt incredibly tired during the day. But I have managed to do approximately 10,000 loads of laundry and can now see the laundry room floor. Yippee for me!
I've stopped weighing myself. Despite the treadmill, no weight is coming off. I admit I haven't made drastic changes to my diet, but with cutting out after dinner snacking, watching my portion sizes more carefully and avoiding desserts, I thought it would have made some difference by now. Apparently the weight likes my body and doesn't want to leave. Well, at least it'll come handy in times of famine.
Speaking of diet, I've been pondering whether or not diet could have any effect on depression. And I'm not talking about simply taking a bunch of fish oil or omega 3 pills, or adding this or that vitamin supplement, but the actual whole diet - all the food I eat. I've read a few things here and there to support the idea of food being the key to what ales you, and have a FIL that believes everything he feels is a direct result of what he ate that day, but have been far too lazy for actual research. When I'm this deep in depression, serious reading is very difficult, so instead, I've started reading the ingredient list on any packaged foods I eat and wondering if eliminating all the things I can't pronounce wouldn't do my body (and mind) good. This means, of course, that I will,(sigh), need to learn, (bigger sigh), how to cook, (really big sigh). Cooking from scratch means effort and time and planning meals and all that kind of stuff. And it doesn't appeal to me. Which is the point. Because one thing I've learned from my years of depression, is that doing things I don't want to do but know I need to always makes me feel better. Not necessarily because of what I did, as much as the fact that I DID DO something. Accomplishment, especially of the stretching yourself variety, is important for me.
Well blogging with the kids around means lots of interruptions and each paragraph taking twice as long so my accomplishments this afternoon has been zero. I better end it now while there's still a chance of.....something.
Well, my sweetheart and I celebrated our 12th anniversary. And instead of being happy, I had this overwhelming feeling of unworthiness. He is so much better to me than I am to him. Nice, positive thinking there.
I've been getting on the treadmill a lot more lately. It's getting a little boring as we have the treadmill in this empty room with no tv for entertainment. I listen to my ipod but after a couple of miles,(which is as far as I've been able to go) it gets boring. Going outside would be nice, but then I have to take the toddler and I don't have a jogging stroller. Our regular stroller works okay, but is a little harder to keep straight. And getting up before my husband leaves for work is simply not an option right now. I just don't have it in me. So the treadmill it is and it's better than nothing.
I went snow skiing one day. It was so lovely. I came home bruised and sore and wishing I could go every weekend. Some day we will have the money to make this a family outing. Until then I will continue to rely on my generous father for my once-a-year ski day.
The thought of going skiing always exhausts me, but once I'm there, I remember why this is the only sport I enjoy. It's thrilling, it's exciting, it's in the mountains, it's fresh air and it's beautiful. I want to ski forever, until of course, my legs turn into jello and I go straight down that last run hoping I don't have to turn because I just don't have the strength for it.
I love it.
I socialized. I hated every other second of it but I did it. And I committed to doing it again on account of the fact that it was only every other second I hated. I'm going back for those every other seconds I enjoyed.
I had some productive days, and some not so productive days. This week my mornings have been bad, I haven't been sleeping well and have felt incredibly tired during the day. But I have managed to do approximately 10,000 loads of laundry and can now see the laundry room floor. Yippee for me!
I've stopped weighing myself. Despite the treadmill, no weight is coming off. I admit I haven't made drastic changes to my diet, but with cutting out after dinner snacking, watching my portion sizes more carefully and avoiding desserts, I thought it would have made some difference by now. Apparently the weight likes my body and doesn't want to leave. Well, at least it'll come handy in times of famine.
Speaking of diet, I've been pondering whether or not diet could have any effect on depression. And I'm not talking about simply taking a bunch of fish oil or omega 3 pills, or adding this or that vitamin supplement, but the actual whole diet - all the food I eat. I've read a few things here and there to support the idea of food being the key to what ales you, and have a FIL that believes everything he feels is a direct result of what he ate that day, but have been far too lazy for actual research. When I'm this deep in depression, serious reading is very difficult, so instead, I've started reading the ingredient list on any packaged foods I eat and wondering if eliminating all the things I can't pronounce wouldn't do my body (and mind) good. This means, of course, that I will,(sigh), need to learn, (bigger sigh), how to cook, (really big sigh). Cooking from scratch means effort and time and planning meals and all that kind of stuff. And it doesn't appeal to me. Which is the point. Because one thing I've learned from my years of depression, is that doing things I don't want to do but know I need to always makes me feel better. Not necessarily because of what I did, as much as the fact that I DID DO something. Accomplishment, especially of the stretching yourself variety, is important for me.
Well blogging with the kids around means lots of interruptions and each paragraph taking twice as long so my accomplishments this afternoon has been zero. I better end it now while there's still a chance of.....something.
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