Monday, January 30, 2012

Happiness Project

Journaling has always been a huge part of my life. When I was pregnant with Logan, I logged every moment of our journey, every kick, every "vetoed" name, every thought and scare. I went into motherhood believing I'd continue this tradition with every pregnancy. I also thought I'd write each child letters, depicting my feelings, thoughts, worries, and unconditional love for them. However, it seems with each additional child, the number of hours in the day got less and less. My sleep bank went bankrupt. I've opened my journal a number of times only to choose sleep instead.

So, when I stumbled upon a new "Happiness Project" in Good Housekeeping this week, I decided to face it head on. In this article, the author suggests a "one sentence journal"...Nothing long and drawn out, just a sentence to help remind you years from now what you were doing on this day--to remind us of how blessed we are, how grateful we are to have this time together and to treasure each moment because it goes by so fast.

For example: "London and I are reading "Little House on the Prairie". It's fun to share these classics with her. She looks forward to it each night!" 

I know we each have our methods of keeping track of childhood, but this seems like such a realistic, time-efficient way of journaling....I couldn't help but share!

Happy Journaling!

Thursday, January 26, 2012

The Perfect Mother Myth #1587

The Perfect Mother Plans Fish Funerals...

I'm the first to admit that I'm not exactly the "nurturing" type. I try really hard, but being compassionate and sensitive doesn't always come easy for me. I'm more of a "tough love"-"put on your big girl panties and deal with it" kind of parent. My kids will be the first to tell you that during any times of distress, they want their father...Not their mother, like you might expect. Does this make me proud? Not exactly...

Last night, my level of compassion was really tested. You see, London had a male betta (which is a fish in case you were wondering). As I was cleaning up dinner, she brings the bowl down to me and asks me to give it fresh water. I gave it a glance and a nod and agreed to get to it when I finished up dishes. I got distracted and moved onto another task, I turned around to see London giving the fish water out of the tap. Male Bettas (like most fish) will die from chlorine. I dropped what I was doing and ran to her and tried to "resuscitate" the fish by quickly netting it out and giving it distilled water. I was too late. The fish was belly-up (and in all honesty, I don't know if it was even alive to begin with. I have a hard time believing it died that quickly) and I very matter-of-factly told London it had died and then proceeded to flush it down the toilet while she watched. Sounds cruel, right?

Well, let me defend myself. Since 1987, my parents have owned a tropical fish wholesale business. Dead fish have been a part of my daily life for the past 24 years. Their warehouse holds something like 500 aquariums and thousands of varieties. If you walk into any Wal-Mart, Earl May, and some pet stores in a 6 state area, more than likely, it came from my parents' warehouse. So, you see...I'm not exactly the one you want when it comes to fish and death. The fish funeral crossed my mind the moment the fish descended down the hole.

On the flip side of this though...Through London's anguish and tears and grieving, she was able to put a call through to Grammy and order a new fish. "Blueberry" will be arriving next week. But the best part of all of this was when I heard London say through her slobbery hiccups, "Even though I'll love Blueberry, Mom. He still won't be the same as Larry Garry (the dead one)"....

While it may be just a fish to me, it did bring tears to my eyes to see that it meant more to London than that. It was a moment where my 5-year-old daughter taught me a lesson I'll never forget.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Reflection

The New Year...Although it holds very little glitz or glamour for me, I do like to look back on a year past and peer into the future. What changes would I make? Which things will I do differently?

 You can't change other people's actions, you can only control your re-action. 

It's easy to let loose and scream sometimes. There are moments where the words are flying out of my mouth so fast and haphazardly that my head spins (and my children might even attest to steam coming out of my ears!). Generally, these are the moments I regret the most, especially as a mother. We've all been there. Life is just hard sometimes, sleep is in short demand, patience is limited and we say and do things we don't intend. We unnecessarily hurt feelings. We place blame where it doesn't belong. In the aftermath, I always wish I would have done things differently--taken a step back, counted to ten (or sometimes 100), and kept my reaction to myself. I can't control Logan's lost homework, or London's broken craft project, or Leyton's teething pain. That pot of water will boil over when I walk away to let the dog outside. London will spill her milk. Logan will get frustrated with his younger siblings. Leyton does need lots and lots of attention. The dog will continue to shed massive amounts of hair no matter how often or how much I vacuum. These things are givens, but how I react to them is not.

"No one will remember what you said, no one will remember what you did, but they will always remember how you made them feel."
I'm your typical self-centered first-born. I 'm not always sensitive to the feelings of others. I don't always put other's needs above my own. I tend to talk more than I listen. I'm emotionally distant at times. I remember a child describing his mother's love, he said, "She REALLY saw me. She always looked at me like I was the only one in the room. Her eyes lit up." It has been said that a child can tell the difference by how happy you are to see them by the look in your eye. It has nothing to do with a smile or tone of voice or hand gesture. It's as simple as your eyes...They can see straight into your heart. There will always be important lists and meetings and agendas. There will always dinners burning, laundry soaking, and water heaters bursting. The dog will always beckon to go outside the moment you sit down to eat your lukewarm dinner. And amidst it all, I hope my children, my husband, my neighbors, my friends, even my dog will someday say, "She REALLY saw me."....