All of us have our little weird idiosyncrasies. Let's not pretend that we don't. Usually, these are little nuances to our character that don't really make sense, sometimes not even to us. I rarely even think about my "quirks" as it were, unless they are pointed out or questioned. Somehow, answering, "just BECAUSE" is the best response you are going to get from me.
Here, in no particular order, are things that need special mention as some peculiarities of my nature.
-I hate balloons. Hate them. Please stop handing my child a balloon at an event or the dentist's or a party. I pop them as soon as we get home. I throw out the "ready to be blown up" kind. There is just something about the sound, the smell, the choking hazardness of them. I know kids like them. I know my daughters love batting them and chasing them and playing with them. I hate to be a Buzzkill, but I really, sincerely, gnash my teeth when balloons are near. Shudder.
-I don't like bath products, like shampoo or conditioner, on the actual tub ledge. The bathtub has inserts with shelves for a reason. Use them.
-Also, don't leave clothes hanging over the end of the bed or a chair. Put them away, in the laundry basket or hung back up. It takes a second.
-I won't go to bed with dishes in the sink. I like them washed or put in the dishwasher and will stay up that much later to ensure they are in their proper place.
-I never fold a book's page over to mark it. Blasphemy! Use a bookmark or something!
-I like my furniture on angles-not traditional. I'm not sure why, it just "feels better" to me aesthetically.
-I will eat all jelly beans or jujubes but black. The black just go in the trash. Blech.
-Only almond M&M's will do. Don't try to bring me some knock-off chocolate almonds. They just aren't the same.
-I rinse and dry the sink obsessively. I don't like it "wet" looking with watermarks. I have issues, clearly.
-Don't EVER lie on my pillow shams. They're decorative!!!
-I hate whistling and humming. It's like a mosquito constantly buzzing in my ear. Speaking of which......
-I will chase a buzzing mosquito around until I get him. Even if it takes a loooong, looong time.
-I don't like my fingernails painted. It's a very rare occasion that I'll let that happen. Toes? Always. Fingers-just clear please.
-I can only wear jewellery for a short while. I'll wear it out for an occasion or outing, but then I get home and take it off immediately. It feels bothersome or heavy or something. I dunno. Again. Issues.
-I hate when people have gummy smiles. That's horrible, eh? If I see someone smiling and their top gums show, not just their front teeth, I feel all squeamish inside. It's horrible, they should be able to smile how they naturally do, but inside I'm thinking a closed lip smile would be better.
-People who smack when they eat, I may as well get a white jacket as soon as the meal starts. It drives me THAT nuts.
-People that "crack". Please do not crack your knuckles, back, neck in my presence. I think it's totally gross. What's WRONG with you that you can do that, let alone NEED to do it.
I could keep listing these types of things all day. They are just all of the little quirks that make me who I am. Neurotic and OCD and all.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
You Never Stop Being A Mom
As we all slug through the minutia that makes up our daily existence, we seem to lose focus of the "big picture" a little, I think. Though my kids' needs change from year to year, (who am I kidding? Day to day!) there are, and always will be, needs. On top of that, whether they are 5, 10 or 15 years old, I've come to accept that they'll always be my babies and I'll always be their Mom.
When I ponder the future, it's almost unfathomable to me that at some point, they won't live with me. That at some space in time, I won't know what they are doing every second of the day. That, like me with my own Mom, I may not talk to them every day. Ugh. Just writing that made my heart do a little tightening.
Last night, I was surfing the 'net with the TV news on behind me. I wasn't really paying attention except with that "side ear" that we as Moms have developed. I heard a story come on, and excuse me for not really knowing the details. The gist I grabbed from it was that there was some sort of controversy about a Mom (living) wanting to be buried WITH her son(soldier, killed in the line of duty) when she eventually passed. Here's the controversial part-he is buried, on her decision, in a veterans cemetery with other heroes that have fallen. She felt it was right for him to be honoured in that way.
The problem is, she isn't allowed to be buried there with him. Spouses and dependent children can be, but not parents. The Mom's argument is that, at 21 years old, her son had no children and wasn't married. She raised him as a single mother and for most of his life (and consequently hers) it was "just the two of them." She stated that she "didn't want him to be alone."
Of course, there are a hundred arguments regarding this case. She could have him moved to another cemetery that allows her to be buried with him. She can fight the clause since he has no dependents. To me, that wasn't what struck me about this case and made me pause to listen further.
She said one line that struck me to the core. As the camera panned over her tear stained face, she said one line in a choked and trembling voice. She said(and I'm paraphrasing here), "To you he may be a man, a fallen hero. But to me, he'll always be my baby."
I got it. I just really, got it.
We, as parents, devote so much of our time and energy into teaching, protecting, loving, essentially pouring all of ourselves into our children. Whether they get bigger in size or not, or need us less or not; they remain, in our eyes, the infant we snuggled in our arms or the toddler whose fever we nervously kept ourselves awake over nights on end.
To some, her request may seem ridiculous. There are, like I said, points and arguments on each and every side. But at the core of it is a Mother that is missing her son and lamenting her loss. More poignantly, it's a Mother wanting to protect her son, even in death.
I got it. I just really....Got it.
When I ponder the future, it's almost unfathomable to me that at some point, they won't live with me. That at some space in time, I won't know what they are doing every second of the day. That, like me with my own Mom, I may not talk to them every day. Ugh. Just writing that made my heart do a little tightening.
Last night, I was surfing the 'net with the TV news on behind me. I wasn't really paying attention except with that "side ear" that we as Moms have developed. I heard a story come on, and excuse me for not really knowing the details. The gist I grabbed from it was that there was some sort of controversy about a Mom (living) wanting to be buried WITH her son(soldier, killed in the line of duty) when she eventually passed. Here's the controversial part-he is buried, on her decision, in a veterans cemetery with other heroes that have fallen. She felt it was right for him to be honoured in that way.
The problem is, she isn't allowed to be buried there with him. Spouses and dependent children can be, but not parents. The Mom's argument is that, at 21 years old, her son had no children and wasn't married. She raised him as a single mother and for most of his life (and consequently hers) it was "just the two of them." She stated that she "didn't want him to be alone."
Of course, there are a hundred arguments regarding this case. She could have him moved to another cemetery that allows her to be buried with him. She can fight the clause since he has no dependents. To me, that wasn't what struck me about this case and made me pause to listen further.
She said one line that struck me to the core. As the camera panned over her tear stained face, she said one line in a choked and trembling voice. She said(and I'm paraphrasing here), "To you he may be a man, a fallen hero. But to me, he'll always be my baby."
I got it. I just really, got it.
We, as parents, devote so much of our time and energy into teaching, protecting, loving, essentially pouring all of ourselves into our children. Whether they get bigger in size or not, or need us less or not; they remain, in our eyes, the infant we snuggled in our arms or the toddler whose fever we nervously kept ourselves awake over nights on end.
To some, her request may seem ridiculous. There are, like I said, points and arguments on each and every side. But at the core of it is a Mother that is missing her son and lamenting her loss. More poignantly, it's a Mother wanting to protect her son, even in death.
I got it. I just really....Got it.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Who Are The Adults, Here?
Today is our moving day and along with that comes a lot of different stresses. Obviously, the one at the forefront involves signing away large chunks of cash and meeting with lawyers and movers and everyone in between.
As I was leaving yet another appointment, I felt a little overwhelmed by my....adulthood? I mean, when the heck did THIS happen?
Seriously, sometimes I look at Facebook and see all of these faces of "kids" I went to school with and I'm a little freaked out!!! Some of them are doing really BIG jobs (like the ones raising kids!!) and are CEO's of companies or are responsible for things, well, that I'd never want to be in charge of making decisions about! Even the thought that some of these folks are shaping young minds scares me a little, given how I knew them back when. Oh...they shaped minds alright!!!
It's honestly boggling to me that time has passed so quickly and here we all are with kids, careers, bills and plans for retirement. In my mind, and I say this with the caveat that I'm an ultra responsible type, I'm still about twenty years old. It seems, in some ways, like going through the motions of what it means to be an adult and the decisions and responsibilities that entails, when inside I feel no different despite some 15+ odd years.
I can picture us all still, with our tapered Levi's cords and Tretorn runners, bangs hairsprayed within an inch of our lives. In my minds eye, it seems like yesterday we were hanging out and having drinks and talking about our dreams and hopes for the future. Hopefully, for most of us, many of those came true.
It makes me a bit sad to think that time moves so swiftly, often without us even noticing it's passage. I totally understand now when my Mom says that she looks in the mirror at 65 and wonders who the heck it is staring back at her because she, too, feels in her 20's on the inside.
Maybe today I'll bust out some old skool tunes and crank the volume real loud. I can still do a mean Running Man, and why not? You're only as old as you feel!!!
As I was leaving yet another appointment, I felt a little overwhelmed by my....adulthood? I mean, when the heck did THIS happen?
Seriously, sometimes I look at Facebook and see all of these faces of "kids" I went to school with and I'm a little freaked out!!! Some of them are doing really BIG jobs (like the ones raising kids!!) and are CEO's of companies or are responsible for things, well, that I'd never want to be in charge of making decisions about! Even the thought that some of these folks are shaping young minds scares me a little, given how I knew them back when. Oh...they shaped minds alright!!!
It's honestly boggling to me that time has passed so quickly and here we all are with kids, careers, bills and plans for retirement. In my mind, and I say this with the caveat that I'm an ultra responsible type, I'm still about twenty years old. It seems, in some ways, like going through the motions of what it means to be an adult and the decisions and responsibilities that entails, when inside I feel no different despite some 15+ odd years.
I can picture us all still, with our tapered Levi's cords and Tretorn runners, bangs hairsprayed within an inch of our lives. In my minds eye, it seems like yesterday we were hanging out and having drinks and talking about our dreams and hopes for the future. Hopefully, for most of us, many of those came true.
It makes me a bit sad to think that time moves so swiftly, often without us even noticing it's passage. I totally understand now when my Mom says that she looks in the mirror at 65 and wonders who the heck it is staring back at her because she, too, feels in her 20's on the inside.
Maybe today I'll bust out some old skool tunes and crank the volume real loud. I can still do a mean Running Man, and why not? You're only as old as you feel!!!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Return Of The Skirt
My eldest daughter has always had a flair for fashion. Even as a toddler, she was aware of what she wanted to wear and of putting together "cute" outfits. I believe in letting kids have some freedom in their clothing choices, within reason dependent on weather, so I was fine with letting her experiment. I figure it's a way for them to assert some independence while also expressing who they are as people.
Anyhoo.....She would put things together that made me raise my eyebrow, until I saw it in it's entirety. Things that seemingly "shouldn't go" would look really great on her. She also loved wearing skirts, dresses and anything stereotypically girly.
When we moved 3 years ago to our new small town, slowly, that seemed to change. I chalked it up partly to age and wanting to assimilate to what everyone else was wearing, but I also sensed a reluctance in her to "be herself."
My once arty and girly girl traded in her skirts and funky matches for a uniform of leggings and oversize hoodies day in and day out. I sat back and watched as all of her rows and drawers of clothing sat neglected, in favour of the same 'ol, same 'ol. When I asked her what was up, or why she wasn't wearing anything but 5 articles in rotation, she just shrugged and said, "No one here dresses like that, Mom." Of course, you can guess, that this led to the standard Mom lecture about being yourself and not conforming to what everyone else was doing and "if they all jumped off of a bridge, would you?" yada yada. Even I was tuning myself out.
When pressed, she would admit that if she dared wear something funky, or girly, she got such a razzing that it just wasn't worth the headache. The easier solution was to just wear what let her blend in to a new school and a new environment, and make new friendships. As a Mom though, it broke my heart because she'd always been so strong in who she was and what she liked, and I didn't want to see her let that go.
So, here we are again having moved once more. She's at a new school with new friends. On the first day, she decided to wear a skirt and set a precedent and a message. Since that day, she's worn skirts weekly, at least. She pairs them with leggings and colourful tights and boots or runners. She's back to enjoying clothing and all of the various pairings that are out there that she can make.
I asked her how the kids here dress, and if they wear skirts too. She said they dress "normal" (she's a preteen so that's about as much of an answer as I can expect these days) and don't really wear skirts or dresses. I commented that she seemed to be back to wearing them with regularity again. She said she felt much more like she could just be herself here, and that even though others weren't wearing them, they weren't catty when SHE did. My heart skipped a little in my chest hearing those words.
It was painful to watch her essence, as it were, slip away for a few years. I could see the sadness and discomfort in her eyes as she held back both in clothing choice and in other ways as well. I can't tell you how exciting and encouraging it has been to see that all come alive again.
It's the return of the skirt, but that skirt represents so much more. Clothing isn't just about fashion. Sometimes, it's about spirit too-and I'm loving seeing that girly flag fly.
Anyhoo.....She would put things together that made me raise my eyebrow, until I saw it in it's entirety. Things that seemingly "shouldn't go" would look really great on her. She also loved wearing skirts, dresses and anything stereotypically girly.
When we moved 3 years ago to our new small town, slowly, that seemed to change. I chalked it up partly to age and wanting to assimilate to what everyone else was wearing, but I also sensed a reluctance in her to "be herself."
My once arty and girly girl traded in her skirts and funky matches for a uniform of leggings and oversize hoodies day in and day out. I sat back and watched as all of her rows and drawers of clothing sat neglected, in favour of the same 'ol, same 'ol. When I asked her what was up, or why she wasn't wearing anything but 5 articles in rotation, she just shrugged and said, "No one here dresses like that, Mom." Of course, you can guess, that this led to the standard Mom lecture about being yourself and not conforming to what everyone else was doing and "if they all jumped off of a bridge, would you?" yada yada. Even I was tuning myself out.
When pressed, she would admit that if she dared wear something funky, or girly, she got such a razzing that it just wasn't worth the headache. The easier solution was to just wear what let her blend in to a new school and a new environment, and make new friendships. As a Mom though, it broke my heart because she'd always been so strong in who she was and what she liked, and I didn't want to see her let that go.
So, here we are again having moved once more. She's at a new school with new friends. On the first day, she decided to wear a skirt and set a precedent and a message. Since that day, she's worn skirts weekly, at least. She pairs them with leggings and colourful tights and boots or runners. She's back to enjoying clothing and all of the various pairings that are out there that she can make.
I asked her how the kids here dress, and if they wear skirts too. She said they dress "normal" (she's a preteen so that's about as much of an answer as I can expect these days) and don't really wear skirts or dresses. I commented that she seemed to be back to wearing them with regularity again. She said she felt much more like she could just be herself here, and that even though others weren't wearing them, they weren't catty when SHE did. My heart skipped a little in my chest hearing those words.
It was painful to watch her essence, as it were, slip away for a few years. I could see the sadness and discomfort in her eyes as she held back both in clothing choice and in other ways as well. I can't tell you how exciting and encouraging it has been to see that all come alive again.
It's the return of the skirt, but that skirt represents so much more. Clothing isn't just about fashion. Sometimes, it's about spirit too-and I'm loving seeing that girly flag fly.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
If You Want Barbie, You Better Be Ken
Shows like "The Real Housewives of Orange County" give us a frightening glimpse into the world of money, excess, vacuity and The Trophy Wife.
I've seen it over and over again, even in conversations with "everyday" dudes (albeit shallow ones) and really, it's laughable. Here you have a guy either wanting a wife that is "hot" and looks a certain way and "maintains herself," or you have a guy lamenting that his wife doesn't "make that effort" anymore.
While watching the Housewives, I was struck once again by the idiocy and irony of that desire. The wives tend to be as plastic as they come. They spend tons of cash on the upkeep of their nails, hair, Botox, plastic surgery, not to mention the gym, clothes and whatever trifles will keep them looking like Barbie dolls and keep their husbands happy. Then, they show the husbands. Seriously?
Why is it that these guys that demand a certain look, or complain about their wives, can look like the troll that lived under the bridge themselves? There's one husband on the Housewives, and this is just so stereotypical to me, that has a paunch, is balding and in general is no hottie. He looks like a nerdy, average, middle aged man. Yet, his wife is this fake, top heavy blonde that caters to his every whim and wish. Please don't tell me these women don't marry these guys for their money. If you say it's true love I may spit my coffee all over the laptop screen. Through my nose. It's THAT silly of a notion.
Come off the television screen, and there are guys out there in the "real" world saying the same thing. They want their wives to look like Supermodels and sex it up, and yet they themselves can sit watching football, beer in hand, scratching themselves and ageing right before our eyes.
To these ignorant cavemen I say, get over yourselves.
Listen, we all want to feel proud of our spouses. We want to feel attracted to them. I get that. We married them (usually anyways) at their "best" and we want to keep that version of them. Well, weight and sexiness aside, we are all going to age. We are all going to sag and wrinkle and slacken. It's called getting older, folks. We can't keep our spouses in some time capsule where they are free from the ravages of time. If your relationship's health revolves around your spouse staying "hot," you are going to be in BIG TROUBLE come Viagra and Menopause time. It's just not realistic.
And here's the other thing. If you want your wife to look like a Barbie doll, guys, then you better sure as heck look like Ken. You want her fit and buff with long, flowing locks? Then you better get your butt to the gym WITH her and get some plugs while you are at it! Don't sit there with your beer gut, ogling 20 year olds, complaining with your male cronies about your wives, looking like Homer Simpson. The double standard is staggering. If we have to pick up your dirty underwear and socks, make your meals and stroke your fragile egos, you can very well keep YOURSELVES to the same expectations.
Now, I'm generalizing here. There are men and women both who, shockingly, didn't marry their spouse based on their looks alone. I know, WHAT? There are actually people out there who love the grey creeping around their spouses temples. They embrace the laugh lines around their spouses' eyes. They gently kiss the forehead creases that have gathered on their loves brow. They know that these changes are inevitable, but also beautiful. Why? They know that they've grown together, that a face shows a lifetime, that the person has evolved year by year into something better, wiser.
Yes, we want our partners healthy and strong. We want them to take care of themselves. We want them vital and attractive. A partnership is so much more than that, though. If the outer physical manifestations are all that you can see, you may as well sign those divorce papers now.
I wish every neanderthal out there with a Barbie fantasy luck. I'd hate to be married to someone who loved me for my pocketbook and not my true soul. Then again, I would hate to be married to someone who only loved me for my looks and my ability to kiss their butt. Eventually, those Barbie women will be traded in for Skipper. I guess that's okay when you get a big divorce settlement.
I'll take someone real yesterday, today and tomorrow. Life has so many obstacles and challenges, just being here and making it through together is gift enough for me. There is something to be said about ageing gracefully, and accepting it with dignity every step of the way.
Even 12 year old girls trade in their Barbie Dream Houses at some point. Grow up and take a cue.
We aren't Barbies, you aren't Ken-convertible and fancy mansion included.
I've seen it over and over again, even in conversations with "everyday" dudes (albeit shallow ones) and really, it's laughable. Here you have a guy either wanting a wife that is "hot" and looks a certain way and "maintains herself," or you have a guy lamenting that his wife doesn't "make that effort" anymore.
While watching the Housewives, I was struck once again by the idiocy and irony of that desire. The wives tend to be as plastic as they come. They spend tons of cash on the upkeep of their nails, hair, Botox, plastic surgery, not to mention the gym, clothes and whatever trifles will keep them looking like Barbie dolls and keep their husbands happy. Then, they show the husbands. Seriously?
Why is it that these guys that demand a certain look, or complain about their wives, can look like the troll that lived under the bridge themselves? There's one husband on the Housewives, and this is just so stereotypical to me, that has a paunch, is balding and in general is no hottie. He looks like a nerdy, average, middle aged man. Yet, his wife is this fake, top heavy blonde that caters to his every whim and wish. Please don't tell me these women don't marry these guys for their money. If you say it's true love I may spit my coffee all over the laptop screen. Through my nose. It's THAT silly of a notion.
Come off the television screen, and there are guys out there in the "real" world saying the same thing. They want their wives to look like Supermodels and sex it up, and yet they themselves can sit watching football, beer in hand, scratching themselves and ageing right before our eyes.
To these ignorant cavemen I say, get over yourselves.
Listen, we all want to feel proud of our spouses. We want to feel attracted to them. I get that. We married them (usually anyways) at their "best" and we want to keep that version of them. Well, weight and sexiness aside, we are all going to age. We are all going to sag and wrinkle and slacken. It's called getting older, folks. We can't keep our spouses in some time capsule where they are free from the ravages of time. If your relationship's health revolves around your spouse staying "hot," you are going to be in BIG TROUBLE come Viagra and Menopause time. It's just not realistic.
And here's the other thing. If you want your wife to look like a Barbie doll, guys, then you better sure as heck look like Ken. You want her fit and buff with long, flowing locks? Then you better get your butt to the gym WITH her and get some plugs while you are at it! Don't sit there with your beer gut, ogling 20 year olds, complaining with your male cronies about your wives, looking like Homer Simpson. The double standard is staggering. If we have to pick up your dirty underwear and socks, make your meals and stroke your fragile egos, you can very well keep YOURSELVES to the same expectations.
Now, I'm generalizing here. There are men and women both who, shockingly, didn't marry their spouse based on their looks alone. I know, WHAT? There are actually people out there who love the grey creeping around their spouses temples. They embrace the laugh lines around their spouses' eyes. They gently kiss the forehead creases that have gathered on their loves brow. They know that these changes are inevitable, but also beautiful. Why? They know that they've grown together, that a face shows a lifetime, that the person has evolved year by year into something better, wiser.
Yes, we want our partners healthy and strong. We want them to take care of themselves. We want them vital and attractive. A partnership is so much more than that, though. If the outer physical manifestations are all that you can see, you may as well sign those divorce papers now.
I wish every neanderthal out there with a Barbie fantasy luck. I'd hate to be married to someone who loved me for my pocketbook and not my true soul. Then again, I would hate to be married to someone who only loved me for my looks and my ability to kiss their butt. Eventually, those Barbie women will be traded in for Skipper. I guess that's okay when you get a big divorce settlement.
I'll take someone real yesterday, today and tomorrow. Life has so many obstacles and challenges, just being here and making it through together is gift enough for me. There is something to be said about ageing gracefully, and accepting it with dignity every step of the way.
Even 12 year old girls trade in their Barbie Dream Houses at some point. Grow up and take a cue.
We aren't Barbies, you aren't Ken-convertible and fancy mansion included.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Where's MY Employee Of The Month Award?
I've lamented this topic many times, both in the blog and just in my head. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. It's something that irks me and as I'm an analytical, detail person, it bothers me that there is no real solution. I mean, I can keep talking about it here, there and everywhere, but it's not changin' a thing.
When you work outside of the home, whether it be a big corporation or McD's, you get recognition. For some companies, that may come as a plaque on the wall saying that you are the Employee Of The Month. For others, it may mean a free trip on them to Mexico. Heck, maybe it's just some free fries with that!
When you stay home, well, not so much. I've written before about being a "Stay At Home Mom." I've written about the real human need for appreciation, for feeling needed. I guess this is an off shoot of all of that. Unfortunately, those topics and needs can't be rolled up in a tiny, perfect bundle and just swept under the rug. It's a problem, 'yo!
In the workforce, depending on your personality, you work towards a goal. Most individuals like to hear how they are doing on that path. Let's call it a performance review. If you do well, you get some dandy take home prizes. Maybe you get a raise! Maybe you get stock shares! Maybe you get the respect of your peers or a promotion even! Maybe you get something smaller but more tangible-like a gift certificate to a fancy restaurant. Usually, included in all of this are also the words of praise that you are doing great, or improving, or that you are an asset to the team.
As a stay at home mom, you get none of that. Okay, okay. You get the satisfaction of seeing your children grow up to be wonderful human beings. You get to see them do well socially and in school. I would argue that these are even bigger "prizes" and in the long run are more important to society as a whole. It DOES feel great to know that a HUGE part of that is because of little 'ol YOU. I appreciate that.
But, some part of me always feels a little taken for granted. It's just assumed that laundry will always be done and that clean clothes are always available. My family doesn't know what it's like to have a messy house with stuff everywhere, or unmade, unclean beds. They are used to things flowing in a certain routine, consistent pattern. They assume that's just how the days go. They don't see me, behind the curtain, pulling the strings and cuing them for the next act!
I don't need hearts and flowers and rainbows and smoke up my.......I don't want that either. It would occasionally be nice, however, to get a great performance review. I'd love to be given the respect of my peers and the honour of being recognized as a vital, daily part of what makes this corporation run smoothly, efficiently and happily.
That doesn't need to be a trip to Mexico or a gift certificate to a fine dining establishment. An imaginary plaque on the wall that is kept at the forefront of my family's minds though? I wouldn't turn that down.
I'll take a daily good review, some praise, and maybe a side of fries with that shake.
When you work outside of the home, whether it be a big corporation or McD's, you get recognition. For some companies, that may come as a plaque on the wall saying that you are the Employee Of The Month. For others, it may mean a free trip on them to Mexico. Heck, maybe it's just some free fries with that!
When you stay home, well, not so much. I've written before about being a "Stay At Home Mom." I've written about the real human need for appreciation, for feeling needed. I guess this is an off shoot of all of that. Unfortunately, those topics and needs can't be rolled up in a tiny, perfect bundle and just swept under the rug. It's a problem, 'yo!
In the workforce, depending on your personality, you work towards a goal. Most individuals like to hear how they are doing on that path. Let's call it a performance review. If you do well, you get some dandy take home prizes. Maybe you get a raise! Maybe you get stock shares! Maybe you get the respect of your peers or a promotion even! Maybe you get something smaller but more tangible-like a gift certificate to a fancy restaurant. Usually, included in all of this are also the words of praise that you are doing great, or improving, or that you are an asset to the team.
As a stay at home mom, you get none of that. Okay, okay. You get the satisfaction of seeing your children grow up to be wonderful human beings. You get to see them do well socially and in school. I would argue that these are even bigger "prizes" and in the long run are more important to society as a whole. It DOES feel great to know that a HUGE part of that is because of little 'ol YOU. I appreciate that.
But, some part of me always feels a little taken for granted. It's just assumed that laundry will always be done and that clean clothes are always available. My family doesn't know what it's like to have a messy house with stuff everywhere, or unmade, unclean beds. They are used to things flowing in a certain routine, consistent pattern. They assume that's just how the days go. They don't see me, behind the curtain, pulling the strings and cuing them for the next act!
I don't need hearts and flowers and rainbows and smoke up my.......I don't want that either. It would occasionally be nice, however, to get a great performance review. I'd love to be given the respect of my peers and the honour of being recognized as a vital, daily part of what makes this corporation run smoothly, efficiently and happily.
That doesn't need to be a trip to Mexico or a gift certificate to a fine dining establishment. An imaginary plaque on the wall that is kept at the forefront of my family's minds though? I wouldn't turn that down.
I'll take a daily good review, some praise, and maybe a side of fries with that shake.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Don't Be So Smug!
As is typical of me, I always learn things the hard way. I don't know what it is about life this go around, but apparently somebody up there is having a great laugh at my foibles. I've had the fortune(misfortune?) of learning that being smug always comes back to kick you in the butt.
Throughout the years, there have been various things that I've felt rather smugly about. For instance, when I was a kid, I could eat like a man. I kid you not. Basically I could pretty much eat whatever and not really change size or get chubby. It felt pretty darn good to eat like that and not have to really worry. Unfortunately, that then created a lumberjack's appetite and that ability to not gain didn't really hold. Darn it. So much for thinking I would be blessed with a great metabolism! I don't really know WHAT I was thinking getting into that habit, because no one in my family is small and delicate looking with that long, lanky build that stays waifish. Thanks for nothing ancestors!!
Next smug issue came in my teens. Though I'd get a few pimples here and there depending on hormone fluctuations, I never had big breakouts all over my face. I was always a bit smug that my skin was pretty nice for the most part, and that I didn't have to worry about acne. I used to get compliments all of the time on my "porcelain complexion" and I got kind of a big head about it. Well, jokes on me apparently, because now in my late 30's I have more breakouts then I ever did as a teen. What's THAT about? They need an industry for the anti-aging stuff combined with breaking out at the same time! I know it's partly because I sleep like 5 hours a night and probably don't drink enough water.....but I lived on rye and coke(and whatever else I could get my hands on) and no sleep back in the day!!! Youth is soooo wasted on the young.
I've also been smug about my parenting at times. I've talked about it before on here, trying to apologize for my smug ways, hoping to have this curse lifted with my penance! My eldest daughter was a dream come true child. Pleasant, kind, polite. We could take her anywhere and beam with pride at her charm and grace. We were pretty sure we were the world's greatest parents to have guided this child in obviously such a great direction. WRONG!! I should have kept my big yap closed cause my youngest has MORE than kicked me back to reality. She's had huge meltdowns in public, she's fought me tooth and nail, and she's stubbornly and adamantly refused my pleas to "talk about this later." When will I learn this lesson? Clearly, I'm not the brightest bulb.
I could literally regale you with my pitiful tales of woe of smug tables being turned, from the small and inconvenient trial, to the huge, difficult and painful smug struggles. However, I won't. It may have taken a gut, acne and a screaming child to get the point across, but I got it.
YOU HEAR ME??? I GOT IT!!! Let me be smug about that, at least!!!
Throughout the years, there have been various things that I've felt rather smugly about. For instance, when I was a kid, I could eat like a man. I kid you not. Basically I could pretty much eat whatever and not really change size or get chubby. It felt pretty darn good to eat like that and not have to really worry. Unfortunately, that then created a lumberjack's appetite and that ability to not gain didn't really hold. Darn it. So much for thinking I would be blessed with a great metabolism! I don't really know WHAT I was thinking getting into that habit, because no one in my family is small and delicate looking with that long, lanky build that stays waifish. Thanks for nothing ancestors!!
Next smug issue came in my teens. Though I'd get a few pimples here and there depending on hormone fluctuations, I never had big breakouts all over my face. I was always a bit smug that my skin was pretty nice for the most part, and that I didn't have to worry about acne. I used to get compliments all of the time on my "porcelain complexion" and I got kind of a big head about it. Well, jokes on me apparently, because now in my late 30's I have more breakouts then I ever did as a teen. What's THAT about? They need an industry for the anti-aging stuff combined with breaking out at the same time! I know it's partly because I sleep like 5 hours a night and probably don't drink enough water.....but I lived on rye and coke(and whatever else I could get my hands on) and no sleep back in the day!!! Youth is soooo wasted on the young.
I've also been smug about my parenting at times. I've talked about it before on here, trying to apologize for my smug ways, hoping to have this curse lifted with my penance! My eldest daughter was a dream come true child. Pleasant, kind, polite. We could take her anywhere and beam with pride at her charm and grace. We were pretty sure we were the world's greatest parents to have guided this child in obviously such a great direction. WRONG!! I should have kept my big yap closed cause my youngest has MORE than kicked me back to reality. She's had huge meltdowns in public, she's fought me tooth and nail, and she's stubbornly and adamantly refused my pleas to "talk about this later." When will I learn this lesson? Clearly, I'm not the brightest bulb.
I could literally regale you with my pitiful tales of woe of smug tables being turned, from the small and inconvenient trial, to the huge, difficult and painful smug struggles. However, I won't. It may have taken a gut, acne and a screaming child to get the point across, but I got it.
YOU HEAR ME??? I GOT IT!!! Let me be smug about that, at least!!!
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