Make Over

I got bored.  Not the kind of boredom that comes from having empty time on my hands.  Quite the contrary actually; I couldn’t find enough time to get everything I needed and wanted to done no matter how hard I tried!  You see, it was a few months into Lilly’s “Sleep-at-night-Protest” and “Opposite-of-hunger-Strike.”  She wasn’t sleeping through the night, and she was demanding food sometimes multiple times a night.  I was EXHAUSTED, to say the least.  I was losing my mind (and along with it productivity, relationships and joy).  And in replacement of those things came a feeling of ‘yuckiness’ – inside and out.  It’s hard to explain, but I didn’t feel good.  I felt disgusting, unattractive, uninspired, and ill-equipped as a mom and as a woman.  And somehow that lack-of-good feeling translated into ‘bored’ – with myself. 

So I decided it was time for some change.  I’d make myself a new person – a person who’s inspiring (not one so tired she can’t think clearly and makes no sense and you don’t want to talk to her).  A person who’s fit (not so busy she can’t find the time to work out anymore and still carries a slight “I confess I just had two kids in a row” tummy).  A person who’s fun (not one so overwhelmed that even the thought of a social life makes her more tired and has her in bed by 8:45pm on Saturday night).  A person who’s attractive (not one so busy she can’t squeeze in a shower in the morning or a good face wash in the evening, let alone do anything about the bags under her eyes).  A person who makes things happen (not just makes breastmilk and diapers).  If life as a tired mom was getting to be too tough, all I had to do was make myself seem like someone else.  And so I started the “make-over.” 

I re-did my blog, and promised to write more, different reflections.  I bought new “stylish” blouses to mask my recently-baby-on-board evidence.  I ordered new, wildly different glasses (that the nurses said they’d never even had the courage to ask someone to try on before).  I made an appointment to get my hair done – cut and color.  I saved some of my monthly allowance to buy that teeth whitening stuff.  I even spent more money than I usually would on a fancy, fitted, new ‘little black dress.’  Yep, I did several things to help make me feel like the new me.  And the end result? 

I like my blog; but that’s about it.  Some of my shirts are darling, but honestly my old far-from-stylish boss came in wearing one of the exact same ones the other day (I won’t be wearing that one anymore!)  The glasses look cute, but they’re still a bit more than I’m used to (not to mention I look just like my mother’s high school graduation picture).  I really don’t like my ‘zebra’ hair; it’s just too blonde and doesn’t feel natural enough for me.  I can’t tell a difference with my teeth (and I’d rather have spent my allowance on ‘teeth yellowing’ agents like a good Starbucks mocha drink or king-sized KitKat bar).  And it only took about a day for me to realize that the dress isn’t right for the occasion I told myself I’d wear it for (and thus justified spending the money on it for), and considering it didn’t seem to fit nearly as well by the time I got home I’m fairly sure I won’t actually wear this one (like the many other dresses hanging in my closet).  Yep, over all my “make-over” was, as my little brothers would say, an “epic fail!” 

And the real kicker: Lilly is now sleeping, and not eating, at night.  I find myself feeling better, and less bored, with life as a mom.  I guess I just needed to wait a bit longer before my boredom would transform into security and peace.  I think in the end that is what I was actually looking for.  I didn’t want a new me; I just wanted a me who feels comfortable and confident in herself and her role as a young-family Mom.  I may still not be entirely there, and there will certainly be up’s and down’s (and up’s in the middle of the night) for a long time.  But I’m closer.  And no blog, hairstylist or Crest can help with that. 

….....

P.S.  I wrote this blog a few weeks ago, and just didn’t get around to posting it yet.  Meanwhile, twice in the past two days people have made the comment, "You look great!"  Thank you!  But since I was wearing older (worn and/or faded) attire both days and had my hair up in my hide-it-all-no-time-to-do-anything-with-it ponytail (and I may have still had lunch in my teeth for one of them), I’m pretty sure none of my make-over attempts had anything to do with the compliment.  I’m guessing it was one of two things.  It was likely either: 1. people just being nice (when I actually looked the opposite of great, and they figured I needed the pick-me-up).  Or 2. My case in point - that confidence does create beauty (not the other way around).  If there is one thing I have learned from these past few months and my epic fail make-over, it is just that – nothing external is going to make me look as good as an internal make-over will.   

As I got over my surprise, smiled and thanked my friends for their compliments, I couldn’t help but think of my daughter.  I can only hope and pray that this beautiful little girl will grow up feeling beautiful; that while I see her as ridiculously lovely already, that she will come to recognize it in herself too.  I hope that I can raise her in a way that builds her confidence, without external promises.  And while I want her to hear the comment "you look great" often, it is my wish that she learns to place her trust in the beauty that comes from being self-confident, not that which comes from any make-over.  

Lilly, you look great!!!  

Why J is my favorite letter, and what I'm doing to spice it up

It’s a family feud once a week – Saturday Clean Up Day.  My husband and I disagree on the idea.  He dislikes it.  I love it.  He doesn’t like it because he always had to do it growing up.  I like it because we always did it growing up.  He says it’s the weekend; time for a day off.  I say it’s the weekend; time to get something done.  He doesn’t want to have to do so much in just one day.  I want the feeling of productivity that comes from doing so much in just one day.  Aside from the on-going argument over cleaning with bleach (which he thinks smells bad) versus Lysol (which I think smells bad), Saturday Clean-Up Day is by far our biggest unresolved housekeeping issue.  And I think I’ve figured out the reason why – I’m a “J.” 

That’s right, I’m a “J.”  On the Meyer’s-Briggs personality type sorter, I’m almost certain they were writing my biography when they made the definition of a “J” personality type.  I fit it to a T! (or to a"J")  And more recently I was introduced to the StrengthsFinders inventory tool, on which I am an “achiever;” again, whoever wrote that strength's description was obviously looking at me (and my J-ness) when they did it.  And one of the main ways you can spot my “achieving J-ness” – my lists!  I make lists.  Lots of lists.  Lists of lists.  I write things on my lists even after I’ve already done them, just so I can cross them off.  Not only do I like order, but I like organizing my order.  The organization that comes from making the lists, and the immense sense of productivity that comes from crossing things off.  I don’t even like fully completing my lists, because then I’d have nothing left to do, nothing to cross off.  I need those things.  That is a big part of my “J-ness!” 

And it is for that reason that Saturdays used to be my favorite day of the week – not because I didn’t have to work, but because I finally had a day when I could work, getting nearly everything done!  And for that reason that now Saturdays are my most difficult days.  During the work week I have to be productive, my job depends on it, which means that my J-ness has an outlet.  But not on the weekends.  Those dreaded days meant for “just relaxing around the house” means nothing gets crossed off.   And between running after the kids constantly and Miguel not liking Saturday Clean Up Day, there isn’t much time for lists and crossing off.  I very seldom get lists for my weekends – I miss my lists.  And even if there was nothing to write on a list that needed to be done on the weekend, just not having the list in the first place makes me feel as though I’ve gotten nothing accomplished – I miss my productivity.  Yes, you see, I need Saturday Clean-Up Day so I can feel like I did something.  I need Saturday Clean-Up Days so I can feel like ME! 

With that said, I am taking a big leap this year.  I’m trying a different spin on my list-making.  I'm pushing myself outside my J-shaped-box a bit, challenging the lists status-quo, spicing things up.  It’s only been two months, but so far this has been my best (and possibly even longest kept) “New Year’s Resolution” yet.  What is it?  Instead of a “to-do list,” each morning I have been writing myself a “goals list.”  What’s the difference?  My goals list can NOT be things I HAVE to do that day; they can only be things that might be fun to do as a little extra.  They’re goofy; uplifting; sometimes necessary, but for my soul and/or relationships, as opposed to my job or house; they’re creative; they’re quirky. 

At various times in my professional training I’ve been taught the rules of doing S.M.A.R.T goal-setting (goals should be: specific, measurable, attainable, relevant and time-bound).  But the rules for my goal lists this year look a bit different.  My goals can be vague; my goals don’t have to be measurable.  For example, “be positive” or “trust.”  My goals don’t have to be attainable, or even within my control at all.  For example, “sneeze two times in a row” (I did the next day, however) or “make someone say ‘wow’” (that’s a LOT harder than it sounds!  Although I did get a “Holy Crap” and an “Uffda” out of someone).  I can't write down goals that I've already done that day (this is one of the hardest parts for me).  I can have repeat goals, and I can move unfinished goals from one day to the next; but I can’t do either of these things regularly, or it becomes a routine, a “to-do,” instead of a fun goal.

Other examples of my goals so far have included: make someone laugh; sit in my comfy chair; tell Miguel I love him before he tells me; leave work by 4:26pm; smile at a stranger; don’t get mad; drink 3 bottles of water; learn something new; don’t speed; write to an old friend; sing a country song; eat something yummy; eat something healthy; do something nice for someone I don’t like; discover a good joke; take deep breaths; thank GOD hourly; dance with my kids; see Quirky (that’s another story for another time); and many more.

Sometimes I reach my goals, and I can then cross them off (exciting!).  And sometimes I don’t.  But that’s ok, because even when I can’t cross them off, I still get to cross off “make goals list” from my to-do list.  And more importantly, if I were to write it down, I could cross off “reflect on what might make a really good day,” or “think about what you need for yourself to enjoy life and truly be living this day.”  That’s what my new goals habit has helped me to do.  And although I didn’t have either of those things written on my to-do list today, I might just go write them down now so that I can cross them off (after I cross off “write blog about goals” of course).

PS. And for those of you wondering, don’t worry about my marriage.  Miguel and I have found a compromise for Saturday Clean-Up Day – he works many Saturday mornings, so I can attempt all the list-making and crossing-off I want for those few hours.  Ahh, bring on the bleach! 

Marked

I have been marked

A strong, noticeable mark

Marked as Yours

Marked as someone who believes something rich

Marked with creation, and death and promise

And as Wednesday turns to Thursday,

and the mark threatens to disappear,

I pray:

LORD, May the mark I bear never be gone

May others always see a strong, noticeable mark upon my brow

May I be true to the richness I convey

May that which I believe - creation, death and promise - be worn proudly

May I never be washed clean of You

Today my forehead is clear,

but my heart remains marked 

May it always be so 

Seeing People

This blog post is dedicated to a special woman who has been one of the people in my life to consistently ‘see’ me – from her ability to make me feel included and special even as a young child among grown-ups, her cards and letters to me every week my first year of college, her daily emails to me during one of the most difficult times of darkness in my adult life, and her ongoing generosity, patience and love for me and my growing family – she has truly helped me to feel worthy and contributed to my courage and desire to let my light shine.  I owe her all my thanks, and I wish her a very happy birthday! 

When I had kids it became a running joke in my family for me to enter with the wee ones and have everyone shout “yea, the baby’s here” or “Hello little ones,” and not acknowledge my being with them.  Unfortunately, as the joke died out, the pattern of greetings and acknowledgement continued.  Recently I entered a family event, walking into a room of near a dozen people, all of whom have known me since birth (either mine or theirs, depending on who’s older), and after the chorus of greetings to my little ones, only one person said hello to me.  But this time, they weren’t trying to be funny.  Apparently I continue to be the invisible hand that carries my children. 

Unfortunately, sometimes my children are invisible too.  It was later that same week when I was playing with my son at a park, and a gaggle of other kids literally ran right into us, as if we weren’t even there.  The confused look on my little boy’s face was enough to make my heart sink and make me want to be one of those parents I detest, you know, the kind who cusses in front of little kids.  How do you explain to a 20 month old that some people just don’t see you, even if there’s nothing wrong with their eyes; and more importantly, that even if some people don’t see you, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you?   

A while later I went to a party, a party I left in tears.  After the door was opened for us, the welcome seemed to stop.  Not intentionally, but stopped nonetheless.  It was a party where no one greeted me as I entered the hang-out room, where I was left alone in the kitchen (assuming I could help myself to the spread on the counter, but not really knowing for sure, and feeling like an awkward idiot when I asked), where vegetarian-and-nursing-mother diets were not provided for so my hungry tummy stayed hungry while others stated they were full, and where despite others being offered “another one” I was only offered something to drink as I was putting on my coat to leave, in case I needed something for the ride home – the most generous and thoughtful expression I’d felt all night.  It was a gathering in which the toddlers paid the most attention to me.  And as I said, I left in tears.  Tears not for any of these gestures on their own, but for the over-all sense I had throughout the evening – feeling as if it would not have mattered if I was never there at all.  I felt invisible; and it felt horrible! 

I am certain that no one meant to be rude or belittling by any means; in fact I was in the home of some of the most kind and friendly people I know.  But nonetheless, on this “off night,” I didn’t feel noticed.  It was a yucky, empty feeling, that still carried over the next day.  I kept thinking about how un-welcomed I felt, but more so how it felt to be so un-acknowledged and ignored.  My heart gave the same confused “I don’t understand what just happened” look that my baby’s face had made in the park.  And as the tears started forming again, I prayed, “Lord, please just let this remind me of how I treat others.” 

How do I treat others?  When I answer the phone, is it a person on the other line, or do I treat the call as just that – an empty call that’s dismiss-able (or even grumble-able)?  Do I smile, thank and see the person behind the check-out counter, appreciating that they’re there, or do I just grab my groceries and run without so much as recognizing another’s presence amidst my hustle and bustle?  When I pass the homeless man or woman on the street, do I look them in the eyes, or at least look at them, or do I choose to ignore them, treating them as an invisible someone, someone unworthy of being acknowledged?  When someone comes or leaves my home, do I acknowledge their presence and that their presence will be missed?  How many people do I pass in a day without giving so much as a glance of recognition?  Do I see, truly see, each person I encounter?  Or do I ask others to play small through my words and actions and how I choose to see them, or choose to ignore their presence?  As far as I know, Harry Potter is the only one who has invisibility at his disposal; so why then is it that we often don’t see people?  

In a beautiful prayer by Marianne Williamson, which Nelson Mandela used in his 1994 inaugural address as president of South Africa, it is stated:

I have often thought of this, not only in terms of how I am acting and whether or not I am allowing my own light to shine, but in terms of how I treat others and whether or not my acceptance of their presence and beauty gives them permission to shine also.  

My prayer today is that anyone out there who feels invisible, who feels they have to shrink to others, DOESN’T!  I pray that I can help my children see themselves as all that God intended them to be, and that I help them see and treat others as such also.  And I pray that I can use the memory of that horrible feeling of being invisible to remind me each and every day to treat others, no matter who they are, as they truly are – brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous, powerful beyond measure! 

Just imagine what the world could be like if we truly began to see one another in this way – if we just began to see each other?!