And, when you find it, please let me know you did by leaving a comment. As always, I appreciate your support!
😉
Also, if you’ve been so kind as to include me on your blogroll, please add me back as Soapbox Mom (and if I’ve lost your site, just let me know and I’ll be sure to add it right back onto my blogroll)!
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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For various reasons, I have stayed far, far away from politics on this blog. I used to be so deeply enmeshed in politics that it’s sometimes a struggle not to say something about the topic. Nonetheless, I’ve managed to stay far, far away. Until now.
This post may shock people who know me, but when I heard the first lady of California share an Eleanor Roosevelt quote about taking risks (actually, she said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.”) I decided this post would be my risk for the day.
Whether you’re a Republican, Independent, or Democrat, I just ask for a few moments of your time (you have to watch it all the way to the end) to watch this video. In all my life, I’ve never seen a candidate (not just the video, more accurately the whole package) that moves me the way this guy does. I can’t help but think that he could do great things for our country.
Ask your kids who they support and who the other kids in their school think should be president. You might be surprised by the answer. Most kids I know (regardless of the party affiliation of their parents) enthusiastically say, “Obama!” Think about that. The little ones who, in many cases, have a closer connection to what’s real, to what matters in life (because they’re free from all the facades and spin and BS) have a passionate affinity for this man.
It seems to me that he’s just the kind of change this country needs.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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Do you want people to wish you a Happy Birthday (when they know it’s your birthday)?
I do. Is that childish? Unreasonable? Silly?
My left brain, logical, rational mind says, “Of course it is. Grow up!” But then, my emotional half of the brain says, “No! I mean, what the heck, we go nuts — crazy, out of control, over the top — on kids’ birthday parties and we don’t even wish each other good wishes on the anniversaries of our births? What’s that about?!”
There’s a real imbalance there. I mean I’ve been known to throw my share of fun parties for kids. So, I’m not knocking the parties. I’m just saying that I think parents could help each other out a little bit if they would just show some thoughtfulness and kindness toward each other, even when (or maybe especially when) they know that the person to whom they’re extending the greeting is over 30. Maybe we make those middle ages feel older by letting go of the joy and celebration that surround the birthday parties of childhood.
Here’s what started this little train of thought.
In past years, with more than a handful of people, I’ve experienced something like this:
I send an email telling someone that I can’t meet to discuss some volunteering obligation (for the kids) because it’s my birthday. In response, I get nothin’.
No, “Well, I hope you have a good day.”
No, “Happy birthday, girlfriend!”
No, “Oh, no problem, I wouldn’t want to meet that day, either.”
Not even those two little words, Happy Birthday.
Sure, I’ve sometimes been told that I have too much of a Pollyanna attitude toward life, (what some consider to be an annoyingly positive, silly and cheerful disposition). But I don’t think wishing people who are over 30 or 40 a Happy Birthday is immature or offensive.
Hmmm. On second thought…
Maybe that’s not it at all…
Is it that some people don’t want to even think about their birthday when they’re over 40? So they don’t want to touch the topic at all? Are they afraid of somebody grumbling back at them? What? Enlighten me, please. Gosh, if that’s the case, then…well…I feel sad for them. Who says we have to stop enjoying life at a certain age? Why? Where’s the logic in that? That can’t be healthy. Who knows where that might lead…
Grumpy Old Men (1993)
Notice that I’m not saying anything at all about materialistic goods. I’m not saying that I want my friends and family to purchase the latest must-have handbag or some blingy piece of jewelry. That’s not at all what I’m talking about. It’s about kindness and consideration. Thoughtfulness and sincerity that’s simple and instinctive.
For example, when I went into a store (on my birthday) with my son to select little trinkets to include in his favor bags for his birthday party, he saw something that he thought I would like for my birthday, so he said, “Mom, you should get that…for your birthday. C’mon, it’s your birthday!” A very nice woman overheard him and turned to me and said, “It’s your birthday? Well, Happy Birthday! Yes, you should get that for yourself!” My son and I both smiled and thanked her and as we walked away, he said, “Wow. That was so nice!”
Two simple words.
What a difference. Physically, I felt lighter and stood taller. My thoughts turned to more positive, happy places. I felt grateful for that stranger’s kindness and those two words.
Now I make a point of keeping track of people’s birthdays and wishing them well on their day (unless, of course, they make it clear that they’d rather not be reminded). To each his own. Right?
Well, whenever it’s your birthday, this one’s for you:
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Images from Google Images. Oh, and by the way, it’s not my birthday.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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On January 22, 2008, this blog registered 10,001 visitors. Wow!
Last fall, I started this blog (when I transferred my original blog and its old posts from Blogspot over to WordPress). Since then, I’ve met so many cool, interesting, bright and supportive bloggers and have discovered a world (in which I’m quite comfortable) of fascinating, entertaining and insightful blogs.
Hmm…are bloggers supposed to do something special or symbolic when they notice this 10K mark? Well, I’m blissfully unaware of any sort of unwritten rule or code of conduct, so, instead, I’m just going to express my gratitude for all things weblog related.
Thanks for reading;
thanks for commenting;
thanks for writing and sharing;
thanks for your support and words of encouragement;
thanks for making me laugh and (occasionally) bringing tears to my eyes.
Thanks for taking the time to look at pictures and videos I sometimes feel compelled to share.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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My blogger friend over at Missives from Suburbia recently wrote a terrific post about how feelings originate from either fear or love. She presented a challenge to her readers to watch how we talk to and treat our loved ones and then make rational choices instead of impulsive ones. I took that to mean that I should consciously choose love over fear, kindness over harshness.
So today, the starting point for this challenge, I started my day in a fine way, with a smile on my face, newspaper in front of me, coffee in hand. Then the kids start acting…well…a little revved. Goofy, silly, loud, talking too much about farts and butts, you know, being just a bit overly wild. I chose to ignore it all (well, except when I reminded them of our rule of no potty talk at the table), but as for the other stuff, I just kept telling myself, “Give ’em a little bit of slack today. They’re so happy…they’ll be on their way to school soon enough…” (as I felt the beginning pangs of a headache).
I quietly slipped into my room to get dressed, pulled on one of my favorite sweaters, and got ready for the day, urging myself to believe that there are no bad days, only bad moments. Each moment we make a choice (or many choices), and I was determined to choose to keep moving forward, to keep things in perspective and most of all to just be aware of how my state of mind affected my choices.
Then I noticed a hole in my favorite sweater. When did that get there? Rats. Take that off, put on some other shirt. Whatever. Keep going. It’s just an article of clothing. As my day continued, it just kept getting worse and worse (I won’t bore you with all the details, let’s just say it involved PMS). It reminded me of that picture book I recently reviewed on my radio show, called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. You know, where everything seems to be going wrong and the bad moments continue throughout the day.
By dinnertime, I was really cranky and couldn’t muster a smile for anything. So I tell the kids to just give me some space. “I just want to check a few things online and then I’ll start making dinner,” I explain. So, I’m at the computer when I hear the first few notes of a song from the movie Alvin and the Chipmunks. I look over to my right and see my son holding a tablespoon like a microphone while he lipsyncs the words (he recently discovered how to do it and is pretty excited to fake sing to all kinds of music in a hammy, performing kind of way). It’s pretty darn cute.
Anyway, so I glance over and notice he’s there, but I keep typing away on my keyboard. Then I glance again and notice that he has no intention of moving. Oh, no. He’s standing there as if it’s the stage in the Kodak Theatre and I’m his audience of thousands. He’s still looking right at me.
I know, sometimes it takes me a while, but I finally realized that this wasn’t just a quick snippet of a song, rather he was trying to pull me out of my funk. So I stop typing and get into the moment…this precious moment that somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind I recognize I really need right about now.
I turn toward him and see his eyes looking at me in a way only your own child can. I can’t help but smile. He’s lipsyncing to the song Bad Day but instead of Daniel Powter singing Bad Day, it’s the one from Alvin and the Chipmunks.
Alvin’s version of the song, Bad Day
It’s working. My cranky-wall cracks ever so slightly and I start to smile, but just a little grin.
Then, at just the right moment, right at this big crescendo, my daughter slides into view (on her knees, doing a sweeping slide that finishes with her left arm swinging up into the air for dramatic effect). She, too, holds a tablespoon mic in her right hand, and joins my son in the lipsyncing extravaganza. Our dog feels the good vibes (or something) and trots over happily, wanting to share in this jubilant affair.
The whole performance is enough to make me stand up at the end, with a huge grin on my face and a really warm feeling inside, wrap my arms around both of my kids and just revel in this amazing moment. The kids are absolutely beaming. They know what works for me, how to make me smile, what can bring a smile to my face (as long as I choose to let it in).
How can all that translate to you? Well, I could say, “You should buy the Alvin & the Chipmunkstune, have your kids learn the words to Bad Day and sing for you.” But that seems like asking a lot and wouldn’t necessarily translate.
No, I just offer you this: when you’re having a really lousy day (like Alexander’s or like mine or whatever kind of day is your kind of bad day), dig way down to get to that place where you can throw off the mask that we often hide behind as adults and then look at your kids. You know, really look at your kids. If they’re not singing, then try to imagine them singing. Or pick up a picture of them when they’re asleep or when they’re being their most adorable.* It will melt you and get you back to a place where you can more easily choose love, compassion and kindness. The place where your heart wants to be. It’s a glorious place. Really. And it’s the key to getting past those bad days moments.
Love’s hard to beat.
It’s moments like those that make being a mom really, really great.
*This reference is to a post from another one of my blogger friend’s blogs, The Busy Dad Blog within which he shows a great picture of his son, affectionately referred to as Fury, at one of his most adorable moments. See what I mean?Makes you melt…and hopefully will do so even more when it’s your own.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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Well, at least that’s what I think…
And I hope you do, too! Cre8Buzz has been nominated for a Mashable Open Web Award in the category, “Best Niche or Miscellaneous Social Network.” So, please support this wonderful community by clicking on this button, scrolling down until you see that category and voting for cre8Buzz. It’s that easy!
If you haven’t heard about cre8Buzz yet, it’s a community of interesting people who are not primarily young folks in college. It includes moms & dads, political pundits, talented writers, photographers, hobbyists and so much more.
Cre8Buzz has opened up a whole new world to me as a blogger. It’s a world of supportive, funny, interesting people who are interested in the substance of my blogs and who will tell me what they think (good or bad) about what I have to say. I can count on the members of that community to comment on my posts, listen to my radio show and just ask me how I’m doing on any particular day.
I’ve seen nothing like it on the web. I’m so grateful to have become a part of cre8Buzz and would love to show my support in any way I can. If you have something to share, check it out and see what you think. If you’d like to join, let me know and I can hook you up with an invitation. Or, if you don’t want to join but you like what you see, please vote (just click on that button!).
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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As I approached my fortieth birthday, I kept hearing really negative words of advice like, “Be prepared. It’s all downhill from then on.” Well, I don’t agree that my life has gone downhill, but I have to admit that, after turning forty, little things started…changing. Even my cheery disposition took a hit. What you are about to read may turnoff many of my readers, but freedom of speech is one of the things I love about our country. It’s here…if you want to read it, great!…if not, then please wait for my next post (or read some of the older ones (?)).
I’ve heard many of my elders say that there are some things we just have to experience for ourselves or some things that just shouldn’t be discussed. Hmm…well why not? I’d rather have full information. I’d rather hear about the good, the bad and the ugly. For example, there are some not so pretty things about being a mom that I had never heard before having kids but was glad to eventually learn. Like just how difficult it is to handle newborn babies and that parents of newborns often get very little sleep (sometimes, as in our case, for over a year).
And my favorite little tidbit that came as a surprise: if you breast feed your kids, your breasts will be bigger during pregnancy and while you’re breastfeeding than they were before you were pregnant. But when you stop breastfeeding? They shrink. I mean, they end up smaller than they were pre-pregnancy. Did you know that? Okay, maybe I’m the only dope that didn’t know that, but I was surprised. Had I known, I would’ve told my husband, “Enjoy these babies now, because when I stop nursing, they’ll be much smaller.” But I didn’t know. Not a huge deal, but I would’ve liked to have known. That’s all.
Now I’m learning about something called perimenopause — that’s the time before menopause. Many books have been written about this topic, but I’ve only recently been given one that helped me understand what I’m going through right now.
I guess it makes sense that a woman’s body needs to go through a process (in which hormones go a little crazy) in adolescence to prepare her body for childbirth. The whole childbirth process wreaks havoc on a woman’s system. I’ll never forget how stunned my hubby looked when he witnessed our first child’s birth. During the cesarean section operation, he saw the doctors temporarily remove my insides, take our beautiful baby girl from my uterus, hand her off, then carefully replace my internal organs. And that was after eighteen hours of labor. Hard for him to witness, even harder for my body to endure. My recovery period was about six weeks long. My body had to readjust, go back to functioning without baby in utero. Big changes. Oh, it also switched from focusing on nourishing and growing a baby to becoming a milk factory. Yep. There was a whole lot going on.
So…
To prepare for the active years of childbirth, a woman’s body sort of gears up in adolescence and our girls become moody, emotional, a little more unpredictable and more womanly. What about when the body is preparing to shutdown? It makes sense that that requires some time, too. Our bodies are putting on the brakes, sort of. Slowing down the system until it can finally report, “Okay, chief. The childbirth factory has officially ceased operations.” Sure, now that I really think about it, it makes sense. How could I expect it to just stop overnight? “That’s it. No more periods. You’re done.”
No, not like that at all. Instead, we go through yet another hormonal time (which is tough not only for our loved ones having to deal with us, but also for us). It’s a transition period. We sometimes become moody, more emotional and more unpredictable. For example, I recently volunteered to help in my daughter’s school and found myself overcome with frustration when the kids just wouldn’t quiet down. I understand now what it’s like for substitute teachers. Kids push the limits with anyone who’s not their regular homeroom teacher. Anyway, I raised my voice a little and said they needed to quiet down and not start playing the strategy games they were about to play. Not a big deal, maybe, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it (and it happened several weeks ago). I’ve helped out in classrooms for about a decade or so and I’ve never done that. I’m usually the one who smiles and maybe rings a little bell or something or waits until they stop talking before proceeding. But this time…I don’t know…I just said, “Do NOT begin until you are ALL seated.” It just wasn’t me. You know what I mean? I was thinking, “Did I just say that out loud?” I felt guilty and embarrassed and wanted to run out of there. When I got home, I thought, “Maybe I just can’t handle the older kids. Maybe I shouldn’t do things like that anymore.” Then I started to read that book my friend gave me.
It’s called, The Pause by Lonnie Barbach.
I encourage every 30 something woman to read it.
That’s as much as I’ll say right now, but I’ll give you more details when I finish the book.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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I’m not a big fan of chewing gum.
When I was a kid, the only time I ever served detention was in eighth grade. Standing in the cafeteria, right next to the assistant principal, I cracked my gum…several times. It was a bad habit.
I stopped chewing gum after that and I’ve tried to avoid buying it for my kids. I blame it on the aspartame. “Oh, sorry, can’t buy that. Has aspartame.” Then my kids found this great gum at Trader Joe’s called Glee Gum.
The gum pieces are small squares, so it’s much better than chewing those huge clumps of bubble gum and it’s not filled with all kinds of weird chemicals. I’m not crazy about Tic Tacs (the flavors seem a little…off to me and I always feel like I need to eat a handful to really satisfy the mint craving), so I thought this would be a good way to deal with coffee breath. I grab the little box whenever I need a little breath freshening. Harmless so far, right?
Well, the other night, the kids and I were driving back from my daughter’s chorus practice. The car was filled with music, chatter, and laughter when suddenly “Crack, pop, crack!” everyone froze. My daughter looked at me and softly asked, “What was that?” We don’t chew much gum in our house. I looked over at her like I was a teenager caught with a beer in her hand. “Uh…well…that? Yeah, well…it must have been part of the song.” She kept looking at me then slowly started grinning — you know, that slow “gotcha” grin. “Noooo, I don’t think so.” Grinning a little more. Then, “Are you chewing gum?” Brief pause. “No, wait, did you just crack your gum?”
They know all about the eighth grade experience. That’s partly why they were surprised I was even chewing it, but cracking it? That was the dirty deed. The black mark. The cause of my detention.
My daughter’s right at that age when she watches everything I do, analyzes it and records it in her “notes of mom” mental diary. I felt as if I could see the little teeny pencil in her head furiously scribbling an addendum.
“Isn’t that what you got detention for? Back in eighth grade?” My daughter is in middle school right now. She can relate.
“Um, well, yes.” It’s funny how memories take us back so much that we almost feel like that little kid all over again. Embarrassed. Humiliated.
Somebody somewhere (I hope!) is probably saying, “What the heck? You just popped chewing gum? What’s the big deal?” It’s all relative, I guess, so just insert your own transgression.
Anyway, so there I am, trapped in a car, in a very awkward moment with the kids wondering what I would say next. Would I spit out the gum and say, “Yeah, boy, I should have learned my lesson back then. It’s just plain rude to the people around me to pop gum. Sorry. Bad example.” and move on? Would I say, “That’s right, kiddo. Never mind! I’m the mom so I can! But you…don’t even think about doing it…ever!”
Nah, I took the middle road.
“Why, yes, I did,” I calmly replied.
Then my son chimes in, “How did you do that??”
So that’s all this is about. They’re fascinated at a new trick they want to learn. Hmm…okay. Different dilemma now. Do I say, “Never mind. You shouldn’t do that, so you don’t need to know.” Or should I teach them how?
I took a deep breath and told myself, “This is where you need to let go. I mean, you work for years and years with your kids to try and instill a sense of good judgment so that one day, when they’re chewing gum, standing next to their assistant principal, they’ll know what to do. They’ll make the right choice. They will have learned from you. Er, well, from your mistake. Even if they’re chewing the forbidden gum and they know how to crack it.”
So, I said, “It’s simple. It’s like blowing a bubble, just backwards. Flatten out the gum with your tongue and your teeth…”
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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I’ve read (and loved!) this quote but when I found the video of the man actually saying it, I wanted to share it as a post.
and I like this one, too:
I hope his words inspire my kids (and not just when they play basketball).
When you’re feeling down, just remember that sometimes you need to fail in order to succeed. When you screw up or even just stumble a bit, you need to pick yourself up, put yourself back out there and keep trying. Our mistakes help us learn and make us grow. Or, more accurately, it’s the lessonsfrom the mistakes.
I think we need to keep learning and growing all our lives. And hey, if that’s true, the sooner we stop beating ourselves up for mistakes we’ve made and view them as opportunities to learn the better off we’ll be.
Oh, and just in case you don’t know the guy, watch this to see some of his fantastic dunks:
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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I confided in someone (whom I considered to be a wise elder) that mothering was exhausting and all consuming. I wondered aloud whether I could make some time to do some things for myself without feeling guilty. I mentioned that I had read some articles about how it was important for parents to take care of themselves and that doing so would actually help the whole family because the happiness of the parents directly related to the well being of the kids. This well intentioned friend said, “Well, look at Mother Teresa! She does everything selflessly. Why can’t you?”
That conversation kept me down for about a week.
Then it hit me (thank God!). I am not Mother Teresa, I’ve never held myself out as anything close to Mother Teresa, and I don’t even want to be Mother Teresa!
My bottom line is this: I am convinced that parents need to take care of themselves and continue to develop themselves fully as human beings in order to be the best parents they can be. This means that we need to nourish ourselves physically, emotionally and spiritually.
I heard Oprah’s doc, Mehmet Oz say that we need a balance of good nutrition, happy mental states (meaning finding whatever makes us feel joy and allowing ourselves to engage in it regularly), and healthy sex lives. I completely agree. My hubby often reminds me of that spiel the flight attendants give on the planes — if the plane’s going down, you need to give the oxygen to yourself first and then give it to the children. Well, this is the same kind of thing. We need to take care of ourselves first (to a reasonable degree) and then our fulfilled, nurtured selves can be more fully present for our kids.
So go out and do something for yourself today (without harboring an ounce of guilt). See what happens. Maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Maybe it can be the start of a whole new attitude toward parenting. Or maybe you’ll just have something to look back on to help you through a trying day.
As for me, I just know this: I’m going to keep telling myself that no one expects me to be a saint (well maybe that one old friend) but I’m lowering my standards and I’m okay with it. Actually, I’m more than okay with it. I’m happy about it.
Have the courage to be imperfect and the wisdom to not even attempt to be saintly.
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Being a Mom is Great! 
