Tag: parenting

Less is More Between Now and New Year

Less is More Between Now and New Year

1607369829_a6bfadb75aI always think of October as the gateway to the new year, probably because as soon as I start decorating for Halloween it seems like January before I’ve had much time to register even another thought.

I spruce up the homestead for Halloween, take it all down in a day, add a few fallish touches just in time for Thanksgiving, travel, eat, shop, deck the halls (and the living room, bathrooms, front porch and basement) for Christmas, celebrate multiple times, travel some more, eat some more, return items I shopped for during the last month and a half (or week and a half, depending on how far behind I happen to be), welcome in the new year, make resolutions I never intend to keep, and take down all the decking while promising myself to keep it simple the next year. Yikes, it makes me tired just thinking about it!

So where does it all go awry? Since I’m looking for a scapegoat, I’m going to go with this — Pinterest and HGTV. How dare they fill my brain with so many incredibly wonderful projects to make, dishes to bake and 1001 uses for toilet paper rolls. “If I was Super Mom, I could do this. If I was Wife of the Year I could do that. If I was The Hostess with the Mostess, I could do it all. . .” but in the end, I’m usually just left feeling a bit deflated and completely exhausted by all the half-executed “thises” and “thats” that I impossibly tried to cram into an already full, and fulfilling, life.

So here’s a challenge to myself and all you awesome moms, wives and friends who subscribe to the over doing, over making, and over decorating way of life: step back, simplify and enjoy your family between now and the new year. Pare down a bit on the projects, enjoy some beautiful Fall walks, make some simple homemade decorations with the kids, and invite some friends over for quiet conversation and a few good laughs instead of planning an all-out party; all the while knowing that you could have done more, oh so much more, but you chose not to and it’s all good.

photo credit: Autumn is indeed… via photopin (license)

Eating Crow in My Mama Mobile

Eating Crow in My Mama Mobile

 

The salesman made me put up my thumb. There's my sweet little Jeep Patriot in the background that carted my son home as a baby and kept us safe for five fun years. Yes, I'm a bit sentimental about my automobiles.
Disclaimer: The salesman made me put up my thumb. There’s my sweet little Jeep Patriot I traded in the background that carted my son home as a baby and kept us safe for five fun years. Yes, I’m a bit sentimental about my automobiles.

I have finally reached a new high in my life, or sunk to a new low — in either case, I’m now the official owner of a sparkling new mini van mama mobile. Criminy, I know I’m going to catch so much flak from those who know me, and believe me I’m already eating crow for this one.

You see, I have always said I would never drive a mini van (That’s why I’m calling it the Town & Country. I was going to shorten it to the T & C, but my husband informed me that probably wasn’t a quality choice. Apparently those poor little letters have been warped into some other meaning by pubescent school-aged boys.)  Anyway, no matter what I call it, I realize it’s still a third-row, heavy-storage laden vehicle that screams, “Mama on a mission. Get outta the way.”

Forget that it drives smoother than my last three Jeeps, can house an entire basketball team and has so many bells and whistles that my son thinks Christmas came three months early. What matters is that I have said on more than one occasion, “The day I drive a mini van, is the day I give up on living.” Bring on the crow!

Let me tell you, I peered into, polled owners and picked over literally every option out there and test-drove many a vehicle from SUVs to crossovers to vans and back again, and for the money and space this just seemed the best way to go. But if you really must know, one of the best features of my new ride was the stow-and-go seating that allows me to put an entire full-sheet of plywood in the back. Awesome!! Just think of how many new projects I can start (and maybe complete).

In the end, it’s still a mini van, I know; but I have to confess that so far this crow doesn’t taste half bad.

Concentration Can Wait

Concentration Can Wait

crazymom2sm.jpgI used to think I was a pretty good multi-tasker. . . and then my son was born, carrying a big ol’ dose of reality in his adorable tiny fist. Amid the diaper changes, feeding times, bathing and general baby supervision it quickly became evident that I cannot do two things at once. In fact, the more I try to concentrate, the more he tries to get my attention and both of us just become completely frustrated.

A few weeks ago I had to take my sidekick along to decorate our church for VBS. I knew this would slow me down quite a bit, but what I didn’t foresee was the need to read, understand and execute an entire 11-step creative cardboard project. Yes, I’m apparently into torture.

While I begged and pleaded my little man to occupy himself with one of the many items we brought along, the more he wanted to “help.” Unfortunately it was one of those tasks that little fingers were just not made to conquer and I hardly had a clue what to do myself. The more he talked, fidgeted, and jumped in the middle my project and the more I tried to concentrate, be patient and build something beautiful from a bunch of flappy cardboard pieces, the more frustrated, unfocused and so-not-cool I became. Until finally my son had had enough. He promptly stuffed all his games, colors and paper in his backpack, put his arms through the straps and calmly said, “I’m going.”

When I asked just where he thought he was going, he assertively said, “I’m going home.”

That’s when I realized that losing my cool over this silly project (which would probably go seriously underappreciated) was so not worth it. So I finally apologized to my son, left the project lying in the middle of the church aisle and went home to spend a few dedicated hours with my little guy.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating that moms drop everything, never complete a task and come running at every inquiry from a small child’s voice (although I’ve stopped and started this article no less than 12 times because a certain someone just woke from his nap), but I have learned that the cost of some battles are so not worth the fight, and sometimes a mother’s concentration can wait another day.

 

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