It takes all kinds.

It's one of those days... This big, nagging urge to purge my thoughts just hit me like mad while making beds.  After an early morning (5:30 am to be exact) with my 4 year old, and a little morning sickness from baby #2 to boot, I have been in mental overload.  AND. I. MEAN...... OVERLOAD.  Everything that can possibly shift from thought to emotion has soooooo gone there.  Something that's been bothering me for a while now, just hit me, and I felt the need to write/type/whatever I could get my hands on quickest.

While recapping our fun-filled weekend, adding 2 + 2 and 3 + 4, and what day comes after Monday, I was finally in the midst of a few minutes of silence to start a load of laundry and make beds.  While doing the mundane things that stay-at-home-mommies do, with a smile on my face, I remembered something that set me off a week or so ago.  I haven't been able to let it go.  It plagues me daily.

Working moms.

Working moms and the glory they receive (and yes, the glory is due... I have much respect for working mothers).  However, sometimes the snippy comments hurt and leave us "other" mothers feeling defeated.  Almost all of my friends are working moms.  I love them a lot.  I give them virtual high fives and constantly tell them that I don't know how they do it, and "oh man, you are a strong woman to work all day and come home and tend to your children before bed".  The working mom is an inspiration to me.  A true inspiration.  But, sometimes the working mom makes me feel guilty.  Little comments here and there.  Little looks I receive when they ask me what I do for a living.  There's also that way they make me feel when they say, when will you go back to work and contribute to your home?  That was the most recent comment, and the most hurtful.

There seems to be much less glory given to the mothers who choose to be home with their children.  I know this may be a sore subject for some (believe me, it's a sore subject for me), but I feel like I have to talk about it now, or I will explode.  Everything mainstream that I see is directed towards working mothers.  It's fine.  That's what our world is now.  Most people have to have two income families to make it through.  Some mothers are even doing it all by themselves, and THOSE women are true superheroes in my book.  But, for the families (like mine) that could use two incomes, and instead sacrifice one of those because we feel it's important for me to be home, we are increasingly becoming outcasts.  AND IT SUCKS.

You've heard me rant before about being "just a mom".  I hate that.  I hate that I have even said it before.  I hate that people find no glorification in being a full-time wife and mother anymore.  So, writing about it may help me and help you understand how I feel.

Every day, I wake up responsible for a full, entire day of entertaining, teaching and growing my child mentally.  There is also the physical aspect I am responsible for:  hugs and kisses for every achievement and/or boo boo.  Meals and clothes and clean bathroom breaks.  Constant communication with a little person who is depending on me 24 hours a day.  7 days a week.  All. day. long.  There are no "sick days".  There are no "personal days".  There is also very little family here (one family member to be exact) that can lend a helping hand when needed.  This is my life as a stay-at-home mom. During the constant teaching, growing, entertaining, feeding, kissing, hugging, meals, clothes and bathroom breaks, I am also planning the rest of our lives.  Paying bills, cleaning up after animals, cooking breakfast and lunch and prepping dinner.  I am usually a personal secretary for my husband, running errands all over town..... with help from my little sidekick, of course!  No breaks here.  On the days she has soccer and dance, my duties don't slow down.  Still no breaks.  Still no "me" time.  I do the daily duties, and then I carry her to whatever activity she's participating in that day.  It's my job.  I'm "just a mom".  And I love every single second of it!  There isn't one thing about it that I would trade.

But, why is it wrong?  Being "just a mom" isn't enough.  You must also leave your kid for 8 hours a day and make money in order to really count.  Or at least that's how so many have made me feel.  So, here's my point, and I want it to stick.  Please understand:

Mothers are amazing, beautiful, warrior creatures who used their bodies to bring little humans into the world!  In this way, we are all the same.  We know a love with our children that can't be matched.  But, it takes all kinds, and that doesn't mean the different kinds should be discriminated against.  We should appreciate each other.  Stick together.  We need working moms, we need part-time moms, and we need full-time, stay-at-home moms to make this world go 'round!  Women fought far too long to be able to work like they do, alongside men, to just give it up.  Keep on doing what you do!  I applaud the working mother.  I applaud the amount of energy it takes to make it through your work week.  I applaud your ability to handle missing your child while you conquer the world.  You are an inspiration to me!  But, just because women fought long and hard to work beside men doesn't mean that all of us have a place there, or even want it.  Some of us are needed right here at home.  It doesn't make us weird or wrong.  It makes us moms......just like you.

I want to be viewed in the same manner as you.  I'd love for you to see that I, too, can conquer the world from inside these walls.  I can make a difference outside these walls mingling through town, spending time with other children or other families.  I make a difference by teaching my child to love without exceptions.  I, too, can conquer the world.  I am not "just a mom".  I am so much more.

Females struggle to respect each other sometimes.  But, as we learn to respect each other as women, and not just the roles or titles we have as moms, we should see a shift in our abilities to unite.  We're all going to be different, so there's no need for comparison.  All of us do different things in our family units.  Support more.  Criticize less.  Respect each other as co-mommies.  We all bring different things to this vast mommy world.  It takes all kinds, and I truly believe we should embrace all kinds...............


Loving all of the kinds,

Candle

Fight to release. Fight to regain.

Lately, I've really been trying to let go of my need for control.  Yes, I suffer from it too.  If you are one of the few who have mastered being "ok" with life as it comes, I envy you.  I do.  Control may be my biggest battle with myself.  I fight to let go, and then I find myself fighting to hang on.  When I find I'm having a great day with it, something huge happens to remind me that I am not in control anyway, and need to somehow try and regain it.  The more I try to release, the harder life tries to tell me to hang on.  Anyone else understand this?

Truth is, this desire to control is formed so early in life, I believe it almost becomes an inherent need for us.  Like it's just normal.  We can only control how we feel, respond, and act.  We can only control what goes on inside of us.  But somewhere along the way, we have decided we can also take on the task of controlling everything around us.  What an exhausting ride!

I find myself being overprotective of my husband.  He has this relaxed thing down to an art.  I sometimes get frustrated with him because he doesn't respond with the same "I'll fix this situation right this second!" attitude that I tend to carry.  He is chill.  He is calm.  He is collected.  He is my balance.  But, I'll be damned if I am not constantly trying to make him a fighter too.  If someone wrongs him, I come out swinging.  He lets it roll off his back.  I fight harder.  He lets go even more.  I WANT TO BE THIS!  I ENVY THIS!

My fear is that I will rub off on Annabelle.  I'm starting to notice some similarities.  Not because I try to control her, because really, I try hard to let her find her own way.  I'm pretty adamant about her becoming her own person.  (Ironically, while I want her to be her own person, I am rubbing off on her through her little eyes and ears.  She is picking up on this stuff.  She is constantly witnessing my life full of fight or flight responses.)  Her usual nature is loving, happy, laid back, adventurous.  Lately, I have noticed a sense of nervousness and control creeping in.  I know she has been watching me.  If anything will help me release this need to control, it will be the desire to NOT rub off on her.  BECAUSE the truth is, life is not ALL fight or flight!  It's just not.  Sometimes it's really easy and I  complicate the hell right out of it!  Sometimes, when everyone else is rolling with the punches, I should just grab on and roll right with them, instead of trying to protect and control.

My goal for these summer months is to allow myself true release in all situations.  I will take advantage of the warmth of nature.  Anytime something is ailing me in any way, I will lose myself in nature for a bit and remember this world is MUCH bigger than any amount of control I can offer it.  It's a work in progress, but I am determined to be a better me, a better wife and most importantly, a better mother.

Thank you to my husband for being my balance, my rock, my funny guy and my best friend.  Thank you to my little girl for keeping me on my toes, showing me simplicity, sharing your compassionate nature, and teaching me to love deeper than I ever knew I could.  You both inspire me to change patterns, to be myself, and to live freely... BUT mostly, you inspire me to begin this journey again, every single day.  Those are some huge gifts you give me.  I LOVE YOU.

Restoring compassion

My daughter rushed to me about 5 am this morning and just wanted to be near me.  After a few minutes, for no apparent reason, she began to cry.  She usually says she's had a bad dream, or that she needs water, but not this morning.  She just cried (soft little, quiet tears), and so i held her and assured her that if she was sad about something, then it's ok to let it out, and she could tell me.  Of course, my brain is racing, wondering what could possibly be making her sad?  She is usually so very bubbly and happy.  I held back my own tears and just listened to her quietly cry, as she squeezed my hand and fell back to sleep.  


Last night, I had to explain to my sweet baby that one of her best friend's and his family are very sad right now.  After hanging up from a phone call I received from his mom, she asked, "mommy, why are you sad?"  It's difficult to explain to a three year old that you're crying someone else's tears.  But, I came up with the best I could.  I explained that they are having to say goodbye to a special person in their family and that goodbyes are not easy.  And that all we can do is just be there, and smile for them, or cry with them.  Whatever we feel coming out of our hearts, and whatever makes them feel not alone.  I explained that there was sometimes not much we can do except love our friends.  We cried out for his family, said a prayer for them, and went to bed.  So, my only guess is that her crying this morning came from her empathetic soul.  I believe it wholeheartedly.

As she's still peacefully sleeping, I feel compelled to write about empathy.  I believe the best we can hope for in our kids is compassion.  It's imperative to help our children embrace these emotions at a young age, and not stifle it in any way.  Let it grow and flow..... and maybe, just maybe, if our children are told that it's ok to be compassionate and warmhearted, then the coldness that runs rampant through this world will fade with coming generations.  It's ok to hurt for others.  It's what makes us real and keeps our blood warm.  A sense of bonding and belonging between us all.  We need this for HUMANITY.  NOW more than EVER.

This morning I got the heart breaking call from my friend, and my heart sunk lower for her family.  I wanted to go give the big squeeze I knew she needed, but she probably didn't want right now.  I wanted to run to them and help and do and be... all of these things I wanted to do, but all she really needed was to just know that I wanted to.  And to know that I'm broken for her today.  No matter how much I could be doing for them, or how many flowers I could send or cards I could write... no matter how many words I could say, none of it matters, if it isn't driven by empathy, love and compassion.

So, my prayer/promise today is that I never muffle my daughter's compassionate side.  I hope that she can witness my tears for others and know that it is an uplifting and beautiful experience to just FEEL so much for someone else!  I hope she can witness my joy for others in the same light, and know that those emotions are what make us human.  Those emotions are what connect us.

To laugh with others in joy, and to cry with those in pain, may be the most beautiful expression of love we can offer.

Hug your babies, y'all.

Loving all of you, with all of me.
Candle

The Paxil made me fat

Fat: not really what I was.  I guess.  But, definitely how I felt.  I wasn't overweight (because really i fell right into the weight for my height), I was more like bloated.  ALL. OF. THE. TIME.  It was more of the way the weight sat on my body.  Especially after having a baby.  Especially after turning the big THREE-ZERO.

I am going to give a whole entire week of blog entries to this damned drug, once it is completely out of my system.  But, for now, I would love to rant about the fat.

I work out.  I stay in shape.  My family switched to a completely organic lifestyle about a year ago, after slowly progressing that way for years.  I've been doing everything right.  I even cut out the glass of wine that was always waiting for me at night, after a tough day.  The "poofiness" I was feeling in my body, must have just been "my fate".  GRRRRRRR.  I don't want to live with the poof.  What am I going to do?  I cut out wheat, gluten, and all of the foods that caused sensitivities in my tummy.  Still no help with that poof.

SO... WHAT. THE. HELL?

I'll tell you what...  I was taking a medication that I never researched.  Did you know that one of the side effects of Paxil is weight gain.  And by weight gain, I guess they really mean, "STICKY, YUCKY WEIGHT THAT WILL CLING TO YOUR BODY AND CAN'T BE SCRAPED OFF WITH A SCALPEL" weight gain.  Yep, that must be what they mean!

I have been coming off of this medication for a while now.  But, here recently I sped up the process and started really focusing on getting it out of my body and being done.  That meant cutting way back to almost nothingness.  Now, the medication is practically finished ruining me.  Usually I don't use a scale.  It just depresses me.  I can be in the best shape and look damn good, but because I have such dense muscle in my gluts, hamstrings, hips and thighs, I'm obviously going to weight more.  If I get a number that is higher than I expect, instead of blaming it on muscle, I immediately blame it on this disgusting poof.  I get depressed when I see an actual number.  So, I just stay away.  Well, I have been feeling a change in my waist.  Certain pants are loose again.  I decided to weigh in recently and noticed I had randomly dropped 5 pounds.  Nothing at all has changed in my struggle.  Still work out the same.  Still eat and drink the same.  Everything is THE SAME.  Except now, I'm not drugging my body every day.
DUH!  Could it be?

I finally took a look at the side effects of the drug I began taking 2 years ago.  And lo and behold.......... it isn't it bold print, (because God forbid they put any side effect in BOLD print) but it is listed.  After talking with others who've taken it, it only confirmed my suspicions, as they all had struggled with weight gain as well.

Still not completely weened, and I have already lost 8 pounds.  AND I mean 8 pounds of poof.  Wow.  I haven't even been working out like usual either, because I've been so weak from the withdrawal symptoms.  So, I'm curious to see just how much the scale changes once this mess has left my system forever.

HEED THE WARNING Y'ALL:  please thoroughly research everything you put in your ONE, PRECIOUS body.

As winter rolls out...

I woke up to a beautiful morning!  It's extremely windy, but sunny, and I can see Spring slowly rolling in... as I ponder the reasons we often rush every season, I can't help but whisper "slow down... "take it all in... for this season is full of things you'll never have again."

For as winter rolls out and Spring comes in, we build nostalgia for moments we'll often look back on with a smile.  No reason to rush those moments.  And even more of a reason to breathe them in!

The wind is symbolic today.  Really blistering cold when the wind hits my face.  It feels it may be that last little trail of winter leaving us.  It's winter's one, last frozen reminder that it's leaving us, and will leave us with a bang.  It's the end of March, some flowers have begun to bloom, the trees are sprouting tiny leaves, and the birds wake me with their beautiful melodies each morning.  Oh, how I've longed for this.  I've waited for Spring and the feeling of rebirth.

But today, just for today, I will embrace this last bit of winter, these last bit of chilly memories, the crispness in the air, the frost on the ground, and the smell of a roaring chimney two houses down.   Just for one more day...

Happy Monday.

Love you and your memories,
Candle

Not so soccer mom

I absolutely could not wait for my daughter to be three!  Not because I wanted her to grow up any faster, but because of all of the fun things she could participate in!  This is the age where she can start most recreational sports and activities in our town.  Dance, tee-ball, soccer, etc.  I was elated to get her signed up for soccer because she has so much energy and I knew she would benefit from such an endurance based sport.  It was all for fun.  We started in the fall, and she spent most of the season warming up to the idea of being on a team.  We didn't have too many successful days on the field in the fall of 2012, but we went, she played with her friends, ran around during games, and practiced with the other boys.  Yes, boys.  She was THE only girl on her team.  That part was also a little hard to get used to.

Fast forward to Spring 2013.  We sign her up again.  Now, she is this social butterfly, sweet and tenderhearted, and loves the other children.  Sometimes she gets a little off focus on the field (which really, what three year old doesn't, at some point?).  While everyone else is chasing the ball, you can find her running with the pack, up close to the ball, or sometimes you can find her running along staring at the sky and smiling.  She really is such a beautiful little soul.  This is something I never want to break her of.  Soccer is supposed to be for fun.  Soccer is supposed to help her learn to play on a team, discover athletic skills, get her some nice play time and vitamin d; but, most importantly, it should boost her self-esteem and confidence.  We cheer her on and encourage her to go after the ball, but let's face it... she is three years old.  All of the children she plays with are only three and four years old.  Thus, making this a hilarious, enjoyable, nice, hour long show :)  We get such a kick out of watching these little kids be KIDS. 

And sooooooo, here comes my frustration:

As I sit through the first practice of the season last week, my husband by my side, (this part was nice because the first season I sat completely alone, as he was out of town working all week, every week) I start to notice some pretty disturbing things from the neighboring team.  

***Let me give you a little background info on soccer at the YMCA.  Anyone with children ages three and up can sign up their children.  I think the ages go up to ten years old.  But, for the younger children (like mine) they are there to learn to play.  Basic team skills.  Basic soccer.  Basic three and four year old fun.  During practices, two teams practice on one field, each using one half of the field to practice.  From what I noticed in the fall season, the teams seemed pretty evenly matched, and most parents seemed to be doing this together, for the first time.  The teams are supposed to have anywhere from 6-8 players and they are all supposed to be decently, fairly matched.  Well, from what I'm seeing in Spring 2013, this is far from the case.***

Back to our neighboring team.........

So, I'm sitting with my husband at practice number one, first day.  He looks at me and asks, "Honey, I thought you said our team had 8 players"?  Well, of course our roster said we did.  I will look into who is missing and what is going on here.  Right about that time, I notice that the team next to us had 10 kids.  TEN KIDS Y'ALL!  That's a whole lot of three and four year old craziness.  But, ok.  More power to ya coach.  Problem is, one of those kids had been taken from our team and put on theirs because the parents got torn up over the PERFECT team.  Yes, we found this out due to eaves dropping as well.  We were missing a kid because they took him.  Now we barely have enough children to make a team, and they have TEN.  This was the first of many harsh realizations we had to endure that night.  

Next, was having to sit and listen to the moms on the other team talk about their children and how each of their children knew each other and only played together in this one little special group.  One lady talked about what her gender preference was for child number 2 (she was pregnant) and how she already had this child's life laid out as well.  The other mother is talking about how they can all get their children enrolled in the same classes at the local private preschool.  The men are standing back, on their cell phones, conducting business, or just avoiding their fatherly/husband duties, whilst the wives are chatting about life in suburbia and their kids are being trained/drilled by a man who seems to think he coaches college ball.  It was disgusting.  My husband would lean over and ask, "Are you catching all of this"?  Sadly, I was.  The mothers of the "robot" kids kept shooting our team "the look", as if we were some sort of misfit parents and we weren't cool enough to be TRUE soccer moms and dads.  Truly pitiful.  Their children ran intense drills with little to no fun, or room for error.  You could see that they knew the coach outside of practice and all of the children knew each other as well.  (Remember, these teams are supposed to be picked randomly to offer fairness on the field).  

This may all seem trivial, and why the hell are you writing a blog about some silly kids soccer?  Who cares?  It's just kids and parents and this stuff is normal.  So what.  Quit your bitching.  

-TRUST ME, I HAVE A POINT.  I AM GETTING TO IT-

Finally, after practice we hear the coach of these tiny kids saying to the parents, "Yeah, i have a super stacked team this season.  Ya know, everyone requested me as coach and so, my team is huge and we couldn't even put anyone else on it, but I have THE stacked team."

*Ok, I have a competitive streak.  But, that came with age.  Growth.  Responsibility.  I do not care if my child wins or loses one single game at three years old.  We have a coach out there who talks about having a "stacked team".  Of three and four year olds?!?  Dude, are you serious?  Do you hear what you said?  While you're running these drills down these children's throats during practice, you are creating little competitive, robot, bullies.*

Next practice, that team moved.  All the way to the other end of the practice fields.  And they were given a special, whole big field all to themselves.  They have special goals, and they also get the whole field.  The moms and dads have lobbied to take even more children to stack the already ten player team they've built, but haven't succeeded.  

Here's my RANT.  My moral to this lengthy story:

In my honest opinion (which I'm sure is going to piss someone off), THESE parents are everything that is wrong with our children.  You get pregnant.  You pop them out.  You mold them to be these little people with YOUR personalities.  Once they hit a certain age, you quit worrying they will develop as they need to, and realize you have succeeded in your robot mold.  You can sit through practice, chatting with the other desperate housewives, while not paying one ounce of attention to the field, your child, or the coach.  You have molded a perfect little world.  A perfect little society of your favorite soccer mommies and kids. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I love the other moms on my kid's team.  And we chat and laugh and they are really nice people to be around.  And yes, two of them were previous friends.  But, I met all of the rest of them through the program.  We went potluck with our choices and got lucky.  We won't try to lobby for some super, mega team.  We don't sit around talking about our little "society" while practice is taking place.  We bs about the kids. How adorable they are and how far they've come.  Every now and then, something else will seep up in our convos, but we don't dwell on those topics.  We get too distracted by our purpose for being there... ya know... the kids?  Our kids!?

Here's what I'm asking... 

is life really this political?  Does it really begin this early?  Are parents really pushing children to make little societies at the ages of three and four?  

Because I promise you, these children are learning from their parents' decisions.  

"You can only play with these types of kids.  You can only go to school at these schools and we only want you in this teacher's class and on this coaches team.  And you have to look like all of the other little kids you play with."  

The cliques!  Y'all, we complain about bullies and cliques and teenagers all day long; but, we are often the reason it begins... and it begins at this age!  This young age!  

These little kids are watching their mothers sit, and judge, and push an image of perfection.  They are watching their parents use coercion and power to get what they want.  They are learning ENTITLEMENT.  These kids have nothing else to go on, other than what their parents are showing them.  Hell, they can't even get an outside source of influence, because the coach is in the circle, along with the teacher, the preacher, and their friends' parents.  It's this pattern.  This pattern makes me scared for those children, and mine.  

This epiphany has sickened me.  I have been dying to write about it since it took place last week, but I have remained hesitant until today.  I'm writing, mostly as a reminder to myself.  A reminder to let my child be a human being.  Children are smart.  They need our love and guidance, but not our force.  If I find myself in a mess where I am ever trying to mold my daughter (or future children) into some little image I have preconceived, I hope someone will sit me down and smack me in the face.  

Let's please be more aware of the influence we have in the lives of our babies.  Let's make the effort to make them lovers, not haters.  I urge you to try and keep your negative opinions of other parents and their children to yourselves.  Every time we judge anyone else in front of our kids, we are adding a piece of OUR prejudices to their little, developing minds.  Let's try together.  Let's really really try. 

With lots and lots of big love, 

Candle

  

The monster is stirring.

So, I actually have a whole load of things I have to be doing today.  But, I keep feeling like I'm going to cry.  Then, I remembered, I have been quieting the beast for over a week now.  If I don't write, I begin to feel sick with sadness.  I have so many emotions running through my system at this moment.  I can't shake the feeling that I am just not doing enough.  The "fear" kind of took over me again.  I quit stepping forward with my plans for the forum.  I need motivation.  I started worrying (once again) about the approval of others and took a giant step back.  Is this battle ever going to get easier?  I mean forget one step forward two steps back.  We're talking a half of a step forward and a giant leap backwards.

Tears are welling up.  Here goes... I'm on the search for something.

And there it was... Looking for inspiration and I find this quote:
"A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity." -Franz Kafka


I'm not one for public speeches.  I don't have the best advice on etiquette or charm or how to be the perfect housewife.  I don't organize events or have too much involvement with my immediate community.  I'm not extremely creative, nor am I an artist with a brush and paints and a beautiful imagination breathing life onto a page.  I don't have a special room where I can go and be alone with my canvas.  What I do have, is an ability to write.  And a pink journal.  And a pen.
This gift: this journal and pen and head full of mess, releases everything captive in my soul.  Once it's on paper, I feel free.

My only problem here is that I'm still scared to even share this stuff with anyone.  What if they don't like me?  I've already re-started my blog so many times, OUT OF PURE FEAR.  What if they laugh at me or critique who I am?  I'm not sure if I can add anymore "let downs" to my list.  So, as I sit here crying, writing, releasing, worrying... I've regained some motivation.  And honestly, I'm just deciding to get back on my quest and say screw it, and what everyone else thinks.  Instead of struggling between the peaceful person within my soul and the cynical thinker who sometimes doesn't hold back, I'm going to strive to use them together.  And, if you truly understand me, you will take both of these sides and know that they are what make me beautiful!  You will see both sides in my writing.  You'll see it in the topics that are important in my life.  You'll see it in my quirky sense of humor.  Please just know that whatever comes out in my writing, is always true to my soul, and the only way I can tame the monster when insanity is near...