Bad Mommy Gets it Right – Maybe

There are several alternate titles for this post. Among them,

• Taking the Easy Way Out
• It’s about Dang Time
• Whew, Dodged a Bullet There
• #1 Reason Grammy’s Rule

Your are now fully intrigued, no?

I may have mentioned before that Little Man is not a very good sleeper. He’s just not. If I think about it, he never has been. At the root of it all, I think is this simple fact … he doesn’t want to miss anything. Little Man is also an opportunist – as most 5-year-olds are.

If you combine those two elements with a new baby sister on  the way, you get … bad mommy!

Here’s how it works.

When I was in the last months of pregnancy with BK (a.k.a., Louie), I couldn’t easily get to the level of Little Man’s trundle bed to read to him. So, he got to read with me on our bed where, snuggled in, he often fell asleep – soundly asleep. Fast forward about 20 months and you find Little Man sleeping on the floor in our bedroom.

[You can gasp if you like. You might even want to "tsk" or shake your head. I'm OK with that too. You might want to nod knowingly. I've gotten it all. Little Man is not shy about flaunting this Bad Mommy behavior of mine!]

Although I know that he cannot sleep on our bedroom floor forever, I must tell you that he sleeps well there. He goes to bed when we ask him to and he sleeps through the night. This is not a phenomenon we experienced when he was in his own bed/room.

Oh, and if you ask him about it, you’ll get something like this.

I don’t sleep well. I need some of that stuff they show on TV for people who can’t sleep at night. But, I like my pallet here in “our” room. I’ll sleep in my bed when I’m 5 6.

If he’s feeling like he needs to impress you, he’ll tell you more (including a myriad of “logical” reasons why it’s necessary for him to sleep there) and you will laugh at the seriousness silliness seriousness of it all.

We’ve been working on this for what seems like forever and, frankly, we’ve just not been motivated enough to get him sleeping where he needs to be sleeping. We’re afraid that we won’t sleep and we’re just too old and wimpy to be going without sleep anymore. [There, I said it.]

Enter Grammy and our little Louie (BK).

The kids have gone to Grammy’s for their summer sabbatical. [We hope they want to come home.] When we set this all up, there was some discussion about where the kids would sleep because Gram doesn’t have a crib. Gram decided Louie could handle a toddler bed and made it so.

[My mother has this power, you know. She says things like, "He will be potty trained by Friday." And, he was. It's a little awe-inspiring and a tad overwhelming.]

Little Man decided that he and Louie should sleep in the same room at Grammy’s and made it so. It’s been a happy 3 weeks!

Bad Mommy heard about all of this happy sleeping and had an idea! A wonderful idea! A-ha!!!

We could move Louie to a toddler bed in her room and Little Man could sleep in the big kid bed in that room! Brilliant! They are of an age where sharing a room isn’t a big deal and he’d be OFF MY FLOOR!!!! Woot!

So, my mom asked Little Man what he thought of the plan. This is what she said he said.

I would like to share a room with Louie and help her feel safe in the toddler bed when we get home. I am her big brother and it would be a good idea for us to be in the same room. I would also like to make my bedroom a toy room so we could have another place to play.

Whew. Really? This might actually work. So, taking stock, here’s where we are.

• Brilliant plan hatched? Check
• Preschooler buy-in? Check
• Toddler bed acquired? Check
• Big bed readied for new tenant? Check

I’m now holding my breath for when they arrive home. Good news, though … my mother is staying for a week.

• Bad Mommy problem #97 solved? Maybe!

Forever in Blue Jeans

I love jeans. No, really, I love them. It’s almost sick. I prefer them over any other type of clothing, except maybe jammies. I would wear them everyday. I need to reiterate that. E.VER.Y.DAY … even when it’s 115 outside!

[I wore a beautiful gown for my wedding. That day might be the exception, but it's about the only exception.]

Husband thinks I’m nuts. My jeans addiction is one of the many things that he doesn’t understand about me. He thinks jeans are the most uncomfortable piece of clothing, EVER. It’s just another one of the many ways we are complete opposites.

I know that many people don’t share my love for the denim pant. I’ve read that many women don’t feel confident in a pair of jeans. That they are not flattering or some such thing. Bah. Craziness, I think. A good pair of jeans is simply unbeatable.

I act differently when I’m in jeans. I am at my most confident, relaxed, and myself. I have swagger. Swagger is good. Swagger is spunky. Swagger is fun.

I walk differently in jeans. Really. I had a coworker (female) mention it to me one Friday – said she’d never noticed how much I swayed my hips before. [Kind of a freaky thing to have someone say to you out loud at work, actually. But whatever.] I just smiled knowingly and told her it was the jeans.

I think differently in jeans. My most creative moments tend to occur when I’m relaxed, comfortable, and confident. So, it’s no surprise to me that I get a lot done and am able to think a tad more outside the box when I’m dressed for “off-road” thinking.

I have worn jeans for just about every occasion imaginable. I wear them to church. I’ve worn them to plays. I’ve worn them to parties. I am usually, by most standards, the most under-dressed woman in the room on any given occasion. And that, for the slightest instant, causes me to be a tad self-conscious and it makes my mother NUTS!

[Husband loves to dress up and is usually "appropriately dressed" for any given occasion. Bet you didn't see that comin' did ya?]

Put me in a pair of jeans and I can concentrate on what I’m doing and relating with those around me. Put me in anything else and I worry about what I’m wearing and how I look. And, that’s really the thing, isn’t it. Finding a place and space where you can be yourself. Where you can be who you really are? Where you can ditch most of your insecurities and just get to the business of living – the work.

Maybe that’s really it. Jeans are my “get down to business” attire. Unpretentious. Durable. Comfortable. Dependable. Secure. Everyday.

… so if you’ll pardon me, I’d like to say, “We’d do OK, forever in blue jeans”

Neil Diamond

Lessons in Humanity

I had to take a couple of days off after NaBloPoMo. Blogging every day took a bit more out of me than I thought it would. Having said that, I think I’d do it again. Just not in December!

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve noticed my patience frittering away. Hmmm … maybe frittering isn’t the best description. It’s more like evaporating. I’m fine one minute and the next, I’m just done. There are, of course, predictable triggers. Whining is a slam dunk and there are some others – but that discussion would rabbit trail this rabbit trail!

I’ve spent a bit more time than I would like beating myself up in the last few weeks. Tonight, as I was worrying about the long-term effects of this current phenomenon on my kids, I was reminded of my classroom days.

Back then, before I had kids myself, I believed that it was important for my students to understand that everyone is human – even their teacher. Especially their teacher. So, within appropriate boundaries, they saw me in all kinds of modes and moods. They saw me solve problems both in good, productive ways and in ways that were not the best. It all became part of who we were as a group and what we did as a group – my behavior was as big a part of things as theirs was. We learned a lot about humanness. Together.

I still believe that I was right and that this sharing (or maybe lack of pretending on my part) was a positive thing. It’s just one of the more difficult things for me to translate into day-to-day mommyhood.

So, fast-forward to my current funk. I’m notorious for beating myself up when I screw up (or perceive that I’ve screwed up). When it comes to losing patience with the kids, I tend to get in mental trouble when I let my mind drift to thoughts of what Little Man and BK will remember about their childhood. It’s an overwhelmingly intimidating thing to think about (so, frankly, I try not to most days).

What I want most is for them to look back fondly and think of Husband and I as supportive and loving.  I want them to remember the hugs and the giggles. I want them to recognize that the discipline and toughness were all part of the learning process – all about us wanting them to be the best humans that they can be. I’m terrified that they will remember us a grouchy, overbearing, and discouraging.

And then it hit me. Being human includes some fairly nasty stuff – anger, grouchiness, whining, stress, and all of the other delightful emotions and reactions that crop up from time-to-time. Part of being the best human you can be is knowing what to do when you aren’t at your best. Part of being the best you can be is knowing how to react when folks around you aren’t at their best. The lessons haven’t changed. The relationships have.

I’m not foolish enough to think that I’ll stop beating myself up every time I get snippy with the kids (or with Husband). It’s something I do (and is probably a decent way to keep me in check).  But all of it, absolutely all of it, is very much a part of being human. And, we are all human – even mommies.

Trust Yourself

Over the years, I’ve worked with a lot of students – both adults and children. In all of those years, a simple phrase became a common refrain.

You can do it. Trust yourself.

Many of my former students will attest to this. I said it a lot. Most of the time they smiled sheepishly and gave whatever it was that was making them nervous a try. Sometimes they succeeded, sometimes not. They always tried.

It’s been a while since I’ve been in the classroom. The students of my first year in the classroom graduated from high school 10 years ago. (I still remember most of their names and faces. I still share stories about them.) I’m hoping they have learned to trust themselves. When I was their teacher, I didn’t yet trust myself.

Other students of mine are finishing up their college careers and are on their way to becoming successful adults. I hope that they trust themselves. When I was their teacher, I had found a way to trust myself.

As an adult, I have learned that trusting yourself is really important. In fact, I think it’s more important than I originally believed.

I have a friend who is struggling right now. She’s wondering, I think, if what she is doing is making a difference in this world. If anyone notices the little things that she does and how well she’s doing her job.

I started thinking about this … about her dilemma. What could I say to help? The thing I keep coming back to is, “Trust yourself.”

Insecurity is awful and it’s mostly silent. It’s like seeing everything through a dirty window. You can’t see anything clearly and it’s hard for light to get in. Trust me on this, I know. I can be one of the most insecure people you’ve ever met. My windows get dirty all the time!

But here’s the thing. You can’t get stuck. You can’t let it freeze you up. (… and by you, I mean all of us because I don’t believe anyone has escaped the insecurity monster.)

When the windows get dirty, it’s time to find some cleaner! Because insecurity is often silent, I find it helpful to make some noise. It’s kicking nasty self-talk right where it hurts most. It’s letting your inner bully know that you mean business. So, I say,

Trust yourself: You know what you know. You know what you need to learn.

Trust yourself: You know if you are in over your head. Find someone to help.

Trust yourself: You know that the world won’t really end if you make a mistake – or even if you fail.

Trust yourself: You have knowledge – and that it powerful.

Trust yourself: Everyone is here for a reason. Everyone has an important job to do.

Trust yourself: Well … that’s really it, isn’t it. Just do it!

I don’t pretend to have all of the answers. I can’t say for sure that I understand what my friend is going through. I don’t understand why some very capable and competent folks feel insecure from time-to-time. I just know that I’ve been there and I don’t like it one bit.

Here’s a great one for you … ready? I am, at this very moment, insecure about publishing this post.

Aw, heck, I’ve never been a good housekeeper. I’m just gonna break the window!