One More Lesson from my Grandpa

My grandpa died last week. I have received very kind words, support, condolences, and love from everyone I see. It usually goes the same way. 

“Were you close?” They ask. 

“Yes we were.” I respond.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Cue hug, encouraging comment and subject change. 

They always ask if we were close. You don’t get that question as much when it’s your dad or brother dying. But when it’s a grandparent, I guess there are people who don’t have very much involvement or relationship. In my family, it would be a near impossible feat to not maintain some sort of relationship.

As with any loss, I have been doing a lot of thinking and reminiscing. I have spent the week thinking about my relationship with my grandpa. See, I’m one of the first grandkids. Number 5 actually. There are 32 of us. And 15 (plus two on the way) great grand kids. That’s a lot. So my experience with my grandparents is completely different than what my younger cousins have had. 

I would tell my kids all the time, “The Papa Watts I had was NOT the same Papa Watts you have. He may be physically the same man, but he was a completely different person when I was a kid.” See, I had a grandpa who was still working. A grandpa who still had teenagers and kids of his own in the house. I can still feel the cold tile floor under my feet as I run up to him. He would give me a hug and I could smell the coffee and cigarettes on him. If it were a Sunday afternoon, he would be yelling to “Shut that damn door. Were yout born in a barn?” He would try to adjust a bent hanger that was hooked to the back of the TV in the living room. Trying to get some sort reception on whatever football game was going on. Yelling at us to go outside and to be quiet so he could hear.The other adults didn’t seemed upset about him yelling. So even though it was scary, I knew it was ok. 

My grandma would be doing something in the kitchen. I honestly can’t recall a single moment in my childhood where she was sitting. She would be cleaning, cooking, baking, or refilling coffee for the grown ups. She was the approachable one. My grandpa was kind of scary and loud and always seemed tired and angry. He would tell the occasional joke, or hold the babies, but for the most part, he wanted the kids to make themselves scarce. 

Then, he retired. I was just entering adolescence and we moved from Grand Rapids into my grandparents old house. His retirement, coupled with him finding his faith changed him. I was able to see him become more gentle, loving, and involved. I remember him getting irritated about all the people constantly in and out of the house. Too many visitors and kids. And my grandma said, “What do you think has been going on here for the last 40 years”. This made me laugh. For the first time, I think my grandpa realized all that my grandma had been doing. He slowly started to soften and slow down. 

I remember watching him walk around their house, holding my cousin Seth and pointing to every picture on the wall and tell Seth who was in each one. He would walk him around outside and point at the birds and trees. I don’t remember him doing this with any of the older cousins. 

Over the years I watched him become closer to us grandkids and the great grandkids. I could sit an talk with him and my grandma and enjoy the conversation. He didn’t seem nearly as annoyed with the kids running in and out or eating all the cookies. He was kinder. 

I am glad I got both versions. So many times in our young adulthood, we are trying to define ourselves. We are trying so hard to figure out who we are, what we want, and where we’re going. We do this with the assumption that once we figure it out, we can sit content in our self discovery. But we will NEVER find that contentment. Because we never stop changing. And hopefully we are changing into better versions of ourselves. Kinder, gentler, versions of ourselves.

Love you Grandpa. You have loved and inspired so many people. Even after death I find you teaching me life lessons. 

You’re Allowed to Make Mistakes Once You’re 30

I’m very pregnant right now. I have less than a week until my due date. So, pretty much everything I do and think about at this point is baby or birth related. So I decided I wanted to talk about a perception I had during this pregnancy.

My first daughter, like this current pregnancy, was unplanned. I touched on my choice to have her at 19 in http://wp.me/p4Wgjj-1S Well, little did I know that a few months after writing that blog, I would be facing that guillotine again. Only this time it was different. I was not 19, I was 30. And I wasn’t just starting my adulthood, I was well into it.

At 19, the thought of having a baby is scary. It’s life changing. But I knew I could do it. There was a certain amount of naivete that kept me positive and strong in my choice. At 30, that naivete was gone. I knew exactly what having a baby was going to be like. I knew how tired I would be. I knew everything I would have to give up. It was devastating.

I cried a lot. I can’t do this. I thought about abortion. If I just did it soon, it would be fine….no. I can’t do it. I knew I was just being a coward. I knew I would love the baby. I knew I would be a great mom for it. I knew a year from then I would not be able to live with myself and that choice. Adoption? I could find a family that needs a baby. I could just tell people I was a surrogate. Nope. I know myself too well. I know I am capable, and that I would regret it. So, begrudgingly, I accepted that I was going to have my 4th child.

Why was it so much harder this time? I am older, more stable, and already a mom. You would think a scared 19 year old would have more inner turmoil than a 30 year old. Then I started thinking about people. Their thoughts, their opinions, their advice. There it is. I didn’t want to go through that again. The judgement. The unsolicited advice. Being treated as if you’re walking around with a scarlet letter. I was too exhausted in life to have to deal with that again. Nineteen year old Beth had no problem telling people to fuck off, and just keep living. Thirty year old Beth was not nearly as willing to burn bridges, and cared a lot more for formed relationships.

People can be assholes. I’m guessing that my loud personality and blunt attitude makes people feel it’s ok to say things that they normally wouldn’t say to someone. Maybe they think I won’t care, that I have a thick skin. Whatever the reason, I have MANY times in life had people say hurtful, mean, and insulting things to me without feeling they were out of line.

So, I braced myself for the backlash. Mentally rehearsing what I would say when unkind and even rude words were spoken. Then I waited. Nothing. I waited some more. Still nothing. Every person I told I was pregnant to met me with excitement and encouragement. I was not prepared for that.

I started thinking about 19 year old Beth again. Why were people so harsh? I had people tell me I was selfish and wrong for having a baby. I was told I was ill equipped to be a mother and that it was a sin for me not to give the baby up. I had people go out of their way to make sure I KNEW they refused to go to my baby shower because they didn’t agree with my choice. Then, after she was born, I had nasty looks. People questioned EVERYTHING I did. I had a nurse grab my daughter out of my arms while rolling her eyes at me and making comment about, “young moms”.

This bothers me more now than it did 12 years ago. While going through it, I just pushed through, raised my child, and didn’t give these people a second thought. I didn’t realize how much that really stuck with me. I didn’t know, years later, I would be in the same circumstance and the thought of that hardship would make me consider giving my baby up.

Why do we do this to young adults? We punish them for choosing differently. Not just with babies. With all life choices. We sit there passing judgment and withholding empathy and kindness for what? To teach them a lesson? Here’s the thing folks, I already decided at 19 to have the baby. I was trying so hard to take responsibility for a choice and do what I felt was best. The best lesson you can teach a young adult in that situation is kindness. I didn’t expect anyone to take on the responsibility for me. Just kindness. Instead, I was taught that people are assholes and will make your life harder when you don’t do things their way. Then, years later, that lesson came back to me like a wave of panic.

We have to stop doing this. You don’t like the current generation? Get over it. You don’t agree with how they’re learning adulthood? That’s too bad for you. There is a difference between being kind and enabling someone. You don’t want to enable them? Ok. Then tell me, if that 20 year old was 30, would you still respond the same way? If you’re purposely being harsher to a young adult because “they need to learn”, then you are an asshole. The lesson you are teaching them is that they are not allowed to make mistakes while learning to be a grown up. Which we all know is bullshit. That is the ONLY way we learn. Through experiencing life and finding solutions to problems we put ourselves in.

Our young adults should feel like they can come to us for advice, not judgement. They will learn and excel into the adult world so much quicker with support and trust than with harshness and abandonment. You want to complain about millennials, but offer no way for them recover and learn from their mistakes. So next time there is a 19 or 20 year old who fucked up in life, remember, you don’t have to tell them. They know. Just tell them they’ll be ok, offer positive insight, and realize that your response is helping form what kind of adult they’re going to be.

Seriously, it doesn’t have to be serious.

Today I read 4th graders the story of Rigoberta Menchú Tum. If you don’t know who she is, she is a Guatemalan woman, born in 1959, who fought for the indigenous people during their civil war. Her life was full of loss and hardship. She started working, (coffee beans) at the age of 8 with her parents. Her brother died of malnutrition. Her father died in an embassy that was bombed, and her mother was kidnapped and killed.

Heavy stuff for 4th graders. After we discussed her story, I told the kids, “It’s hard for us to imagine this. We have certain laws to protect us. Child labor laws. Minimum wage. Etc. We know if we go to work for a certain amount, that’s how much we’re going to be paid.”

Now that these kids heads are clicking along, comes the final writing. I said, “Imagine you’re babysitting. You make a certain amount. It seems fair for the work it takes to babysit. Then, you find out a friend of yours is also babysitting, but they make $2.00 an hour more than you. Who do you feel? What are you going to do about this?”

Blank stares. “What if we don’t care?”

This was a tough one. Usually our writing is fun, no limit, fantasy. What if you don’t care? Why don’t you care? Should a wage gap bother you? If it does, why is it so hard to approach your employer about a raise? Are you mad at the friend, or the employer? Why?

Man oh man. I was curious about what these kids were going to say. I always anticipate they’re writings. Kids, a lot of times, write what they think is the “right answer”. So I assumed that I would get a lot of “I would tell the people I was babysitting for I am raising my price.” Or “I wouldn’t say anything because what I made was fine.” Or “I would find a different job.” Kids tend to be predictable…..or so I thought.

I had a few students share. (I am paraphrasing here) “I just found out my friend makes more than me. I am going to sabotage her. I will go over while she’s babysitting and clog the toilet. Then, I will give the kids a bunch of sugar so they’re hyper. Then, I will trash the house.” Well. That’s not what I was expecting to hear. “I just found out my friend makes more than me. And it’s not fair. I am way better than he is at babysitting. So I will destroy his job. First, I will find a ninja suit to wear….”

I just laughed as these kids giggled through reading their stories. It was obvious by how their stories played out, they didn’t really feel this was the best course of action, but they decided to go with it.

“Yes, and…” I try to keep this mindset while teaching. So how the frick do I support these writings while at the same time reaffirm the class that we do not condone sabotage?  I mean, these thoughts are honest. Who doesn’t immediately think of the extreme when they feel wronged? Even Rigoberta felt like burning down the plantation when her parents were wronged. But she didn’t.

Ah. There it is. She didn’t. I have had visions of flipping tables at jobs I didn’t like. But I never have. I have had clients that were so incredibly rude and difficult, I imagine grabbing their hair and cutting a chunk right out of it. But I have never done that. Impulse control. Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.

So here are these 4th graders. A little bummed out to find out their writing doesn’t get to be about mythical creatures, or superheroes, or any of that fun stuff. Yet, they found a way.

This has made me happy all day. We lose so much as we grow when it comes to creativity and imagination. Or, we find an “all or nothing” approach to fantasy. There doesn’t have to be goblins or dragons to make our stories exciting. Our own minds can come up with these outrageous responses naturally. We, of course, dismiss them as actual possible actions, but they’re there.

What makes a story? Conflict and resolution. But what makes a story great? Plot twists. Unpredictable characters. These kids get it. They spiced up a potentially boring writing by simply choosing to imagine themselves without the trained impulse control. And it was splendid.

Indulge in Actual Self-Care

My kids go to a private school. I will admit openly and honestly, that there is no way in hell I could afford to send them there on my own. If it weren’t for financial assistance from the school, and donations from people, they would not go there.

Each year, I have to fill out my paperwork verifying my income. Guess what I didn’t do last year. My paperwork. So, I was charged full tuition. Yeah. I can’t afford it. I am now at a point where my kids need to register again. And I have literally paid nothing on this current year. This is a lingering stress that I keep putting off.

Why the hell do I keep putting this off? My kids have been at this school since they started preschool! The school knows us. They know our story. They know our background. For fricks sake, it’s where I graduated from and where my mom graduated from! Why don’t I just go down there and talk to them? They always find a way.

Why? Because I’m a coward. And I know I’m not the only one who does this. We ignore these lingering stresses and hope they just go away. Stop real quick and think, what is that thing I’m putting off? I bet the moment it popped in your head, your stomach sank.

In Beth fashion, I now want to change subjects (spoiler…they are connected).

Self care vs. Self indulgence. 

I get on social media and I see these posts about taking care of ourselves. People taking bubble baths, eating their favorite comfort foods, or splurging on a new outfit. All things I have done. All things I enjoy. But those things are not self care. They are self indulgent. And that’s ok with moderation. Who doesn’t love turning the world off and making yourself feel good? But, again, not self care. I see them more as relaxing techniques to prepare your the actual care you need to do as an adult, or a reward once you’ve completed your daily duties.

That stress in the pit of your stomach will not be cared for because you lit candles and soaked in a bath. You know what will make it go away? Paying that bill that’s past due. Those comfort foods will not cause you to feel less overwhelmed. But you know what will? Sorting that stack of papers and mail that are consuming your table. Binge-watching Netflix will not lessen your anxiety about the next week, but you know what will? Making those appointments and phone calls you need to make.

We feel bad not doing what we’re supposed to. We seek ways to make ourselves feel better. We justify these things to ourselves and wait for the relief to come. It doesn’t come. The stress and anxiety does not lessen. Adulthood sucks sometimes. I get no credit when I pay bills or I clean my house. But you better believe the shit will hit the fan if I don’t.

We need to acknowledge our self indulgence for what it is. It’s our internal reward for having to do shitty grown up stuff. Quit treating it as self care. Don’t get me wrong, I am supportive of an amount of self indulgence. Buy that handbag. Sit in your PJs all day and do nothing….after you take care of yourself. Self indulgent behavior will leave you feeling empty and more stressed otherwise. We HAVE TO take care of those lingering responsibilities first. THAT is true self care. You know how you can tell? Because you feel accomplished.

Back to the school thing. The other day, I decided to get a sandwich at a restaurant I hadn’t been to in a long time. I sat down at the booth, and looked up. Two booths away was the head of the school’s business office. Shear and utter panic came over me. *Oh shit. Oh shit. I’ve been ignoring his emails. I haven’t called him. Oh frick…he saw me. He’s coming over*

You know what happened? I told him I was sorry. I was being a coward about it. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. He told me he just wanted to make sure we did what we needed so the kids could be registered. We set up an appointment to talk. He left the table, and for the first time since last fall, I felt like I could breathe. It was that easy. I have been living with this underlying stress for MONTHS and now, all of a sudden, it was gone.

Self care. If I really wanted to relieve my anxiety and calm my nerves, I should have sat down and done this on my own. Those “lazy days” and self indulgent attempts at calming my nerves did nothing but give me guilt over putting off my adult responsibility. 

You guys, make that phone call. Pay that bill. Clean the fridge out. Do that thing that is stressing you. And then, when it’s all done, go buy yourself and ice cream cone as a reward. Because adulthood does suck sometimes.

I’m a 31 Year Old Toddler

Today, my mind keeps wandering. Usually when I sit down to write out a blog, it’s because of an occurrence that sparked my mind to come to some sort of epiphany type moment. Not today. Today I keep thinking about something I have already written about. So I reread a blog post I wrote a long time ago.

http://wp.me/p4Wgjj-H

I knew after my dad died a part of me died too. I knew it would be traumatic. I knew I would have to watch each family member of mine deal with the old them die away. I knew, with the amount of disfunction in my family, that there would be lashing out, mistakes made, comfort given, frustrations voiced, and tears shed. For over a year now, I have watched every person I love go through the emotional “rehab” that comes after a life altering occurrence. Some of them have watched parts of themselves die before. They are usually more self aware of what’s happening. Some have never experienced loss like this, and are new to it. But no matter which they are, they died that day too.

Self awareness. I mention this a lot. To me, being self aware is one of the most important parts of humanity. To look at a reoccurring problem and be able to just KNOW why you react that way, or what your limits are, is the only way to grow. I am self aware. I become bitter easily. I care what people think of me. I have image issues with my appearance. I play mental games with myself when I know I should/shouldn’t do something to try to justify doing what I want, and then regret it. I know me. Well, I know the old me. Still learning the new me.

It’s a helpless feeling. To watch those close to you struggle to learn themselves again, and know there’s nothing you can do to help, because you are going through it too. I feel like we’re a family of toddlers. Stumbling around, trying to learn how to walk and talk. Have you ever seen how different, yet the same toddlers are? Some go off by themselves to cry when they get frustrated, some throw a screaming fit at the grocery store. Some wait for guidance when they don’t know how to do something, some scream “I do it!” and end up making it worse. But they all have something in common. They can see what they need/want, but haven’t quite mastered their ability to communicate it. They have no control of their emotions and don’t know convay what they’re feeling, which makes them overreact and look quite irrational.

So how do we get through this toddler stage? With love and patience, boundaries, and if need be, a swat on the bottom.

This last summer, I was that kid that who decided to sneak into the candy and then started running in circles all over the place. And guess what, I slammed right into a wall. It hurt. I cried…a lot. Thankfully, I had people in my life to help wipe the tears as I calmed myself down. (To clarify for those not in my personal life, I went out a lot and became pregnant, unplanned). So now I’m in timeout. Nobody to blame but myself. Life said, you need to calm down and I protested that “it’s not fair!”.

As I grow out of the toddler stage of this Beth, I feel relief. I watch my family members, and know they will too. I can’t predict or stop their tantrums, meltdowns, or confusion. It’s just going to happen. All I can do is wipe their tears when life puts them in timeout, and let them learn their new limits and abilities on their own. Do you know what the best part of going through a “toddler stage” is? The next stage is the magical stage. Watch a 3-4 year old. Everything is exciting, new, and magical. Princesses and superheroes. Overwhelming joy over bubbles. Feeling proud of your coloring skills. Excitement over new friends. I am so ready for that stage.

Teaching My Kids to Acknowledge Struggle

Yesterday, my kids and I had a conversation about my parenting. My teenage brother was watching them, and he was stressed out and started yelling and being, well, a teenager. They were very upset about it and my middle daughter explained, in great detail, everything that was said and done. I listened and thought while she spoke, about how to respond.

I’m going to paraphrase, but I said something along the lines of, “It is not ok for him to raise his voice to you. Or use cuss words. And I’m glad you told me about it. We all struggle with stuff. You know what his struggle in life is going to be? His temper and his self control. Is he a mean guy? No. Does he hate you guys? No. He just doesn’t know what to do when he feels out of control with stuff. This is something he is going to HAVE TO learn. Because you know what’s going to happen if he doesn’t? He’s going to end up losing friendships, or relationships. Or even worse, he could end up actually hurting someone or going to jail. But you know what? That’s not your problem. He is not your problem. Those are HIS problems. Your job is to keep yourself safe and to make sure he knows that’s not ok to be like around you. Walk away and tell a grown up. Don’t yell back, don’t try to explain yourself to him. Leave and let him sit in his own anger. He doesn’t get to blame you for his loss of self control. We are only in control of ourselves.”

During this conversation, each kid piped in with questions and thoughts. “What if we walk away, but he follows us and keeps yelling?” Then, tell him that YOU need a min to calm down. Keep it about yourself. “I get angry too. Sometimes I just can’t control it and I yell and stuff.” So, you understand that it doesn’t mean you hate that person, or that you’re a mean person. What do you think after you yell at someone? “I feel really bad for hurting their feelings. And I get embarrassed and worried they hate me.”  So, maybe you should go tell them sorry? That it wasn’t their fault you lost your temper? Don’t you think they would be happy to know that you realize you were wrong and care about them? It’s the same with my brother. I guarantee he feels bad for making you cry. Maybe you should tell him you forgive him. Tell him you know it’s hard to control emotions, and you know he’s trying too. That could make him feel like he’s not hated. And encourage him to keep working on it. Sometimes we don’t think people notice we’re struggling or trying. Let him know you notice.

Then I said, “Can I tell you guys a secret? Parents, we have no idea what we’re doing. We think we know, and then they hand you this brand new, beautiful baby, and you realize, uh oh….I have no clue what to do. We’re all just figuring it out as we go. There will be things that you hate about my parenting. You will grow up and say. ‘I will never do “this” with my kids.’ And then there will be other things that you love, and will say, ‘I am so glad my mom did “this” with me.” I do it. Everyone does. I try really hard to look at you guys and make decisions that will help you know yourself and to help you get through things that you’re going to struggle with.”

They all reassured me that I was the best mom in the world and that they love me. I smiled told them I loved them more than anything. I would love to have that moment froze in time. I know their admiration for me will fade in the next few years as we enter into the teenager phase. That’s what I wanted to say. That really, I feel like I’m just working on the preparations for the years I’m the “worst mom in the world”. That I am hoping to give them enough tools and self awareness, that as the enter the years of feeling alone and misunderstood, they still have parts of themselves established enough to make it through.

Self awareness. That’s what I want for them. I am very self aware. Have been for most my life. I was never completely delusional about life. Even as a teenager, I remember thinking, “Man I love peer pressure. I am such a sucker for it.” I even knew why I liked it. It was because I felt like not knowing what was expected of me gave me anxiety. Peer pressure was straight up telling me what was expected. I was not stupid. Most the time, I didn’t have to be manipulated by my peers. I could see right through their intentions.

I think about how many oblivious adults there are. Absolutely no self awareness or self responsibility. No intention of finding solutions for their struggles. They just accept it as part of themselves, and expect others to just deal with it. No growth. And they’re raising children with the same mentality. I am not. I want my kids to enter adulthood KNOWING they have to work for the rest of their lives adapting and growing. They need to make choices on who they want to be, and accept it is in their control, no one else’s. I also want them to know that not everyone will do this, and that’s not their problem. They can, and should, walk away from situations that don’t help them grow as a person. That the “this is how I am, accept it” is a lie. We don’t have to accept it. That a broken person who is trying, is worth investing in, but a person content in their toxic nature should be avoided at all costs.

Will this lesson last into adulthood? I have no idea. Because, they are their own person. With their own thoughts, feelings, ideas, and experiences. This is where I have to take my own advice and realize that I don’t have control. No amount of guilt, manipulation, or lecturing will make this resonate with them. The only thing I can do is keep asking them questions, and listen to and answer their’s. Hopefully, I am growing strong minds which will learn to come to their own conclusions.

I feel like I should set an alarm to go off in 10 years for me to reread this post. Because, I know 41 year old Beth will have wisdom and growth I’m lacking now. I would love to hear her thoughts on all this. But, wisdom can’t just be learned through being told, so it wouldn’t matter anyways. Wisdom is something you just have to let develop with time.

I give you permission to feel guilty

Years ago, I was a part of an online pregnancy board. It was an open group with women due in February 2007, and we shared everything from baby bump pictures, to husband rants, to emotional break downs. I loved it. It was a way to have other woman say, “You’re not alone. You’re not crazy. Me too.”

One day there was a post that came up about our newly born babies. It wasn’t anything huge or life changing. It was about giving a newborn water. This mom was irritated that her doctor said the baby didn’t need the water. That all the hydration the baby needed was in the bottles, and giving them water was robbing them of nutrients. This mom was very upset. She felt that the doctor was implying that she was a bad mom, and said that her mom gave her water as an infant and she turned out fine. So he needed to back off his opinions. 

I sat there, and read the comments. A lot of moms did the, “You’re the mom, you know what’s best!” And “I have given all my babies water and they have no problems.” And “You go mama! You stand up for your baby!” Then there was me. I said something along the lines of, “Why do you think they need water? If they’re not benefiting from it, why is it so important that they have it?” Release the dogs. Unknowingly, I stepped over a line. Mom’s rushed to her defense. Said I was just trying to pick a fight. That we aren’t about judgment, and she’s allowed to choose whatever she feels is best for her baby.

This was one of my first experiences with Internet parental affirmation. I just didn’t get it. Yeah, your baby will most likely be fine. But is it the best for them? Don’t you want them to have everything you had an MORE? Why is this woman so adamant with staying with something that she was told isn’t the best? So your mom did it and you turned out fine….so? If you learn better, shouldn’t you be wanting to do better?

Now fast forward 9 years. This affirmation of our choices has become a daily thing. I do it too. You see a meme that perfectly describes what you’re feeling, and with the click of a button you share it with hundreds of your friends. You want to be lazy? There are people to tell you you deserve it, take a break! You are unhealthy and need physical activity? No you don’t! There are funny memes about eating whole pizzas and bacon. You want to go out and party all your money away? You came to the right place! Live it up while you’re young!

Let me restate. I do it too. This is not meant to belittle anyone in particular. When I feel guilty about wasting an entire day playing phone games, I just write a mildly funny status about it, wait for the “likes” to roll in, and let the guilt wash away. But here is the problem with that. Sometimes, I should feel guilty about it. It is my job as a mother to make sure the dishes are done and the laundry is clean. Why have I turned into someone who is seeking to be affirmed in my mediocrity? Shouldn’t I want better than just getting by? Where did that Bethy who believed “if you learn better, do better” go?

We don’t like finding out the way we do things needs to change. We get defensive as if it is an attack on who we are as a person when we find out we need to improve on something. Our mindset has changed from, “How can I be better for myself and my kids?” To, “See, I’m not the only one like this.” There is a problem with this. If you’re more interested in finding affirmation, so you can maintain being stagnant in life, than you are in growing and learning, you will spend your life feeling like you’re constantly on the defense. We know deep down if we’re just trying to justify our laziness. I have had completely guilt free lazy days. And then I’ve had days where I really needed to do things, and chose not to. We know the difference. We just keep trying to make the guilt go away by getting peer support.

Think. That’s what it really comes down to. If your first reaction is feeling attacked when the doctor says “No bottles of water”, ask yourself why. Are you just embarrassed you were doing it wrong and we’re corrected? Or is it that you don’t like the thought of changing what you were doing? Or is it really the best? We read these lists, “6 reasons to dump your man” or “Top 10 reasons to focus on yourself”, etc. We feel affirmed in whatever action we are doing, or in a choice we wanted an excuse to make. Now, I love these posts too, but you HAVE to ask yourself if this is something that’s going to help you improve yourself, or if you just want rid yourself of guilt. You know perfectly well if you’re cutting yourself short.

With all that said, I will most likely still post about being in my PJs all day, and wait for all the other moms to like my status, just so I don’t feel bad about not showering for 2 days. And hopefully, after reading this blog post, I don’t get any, “Is being lazy and gross really the best way to spend you day, Bethy?” But if I do, I will laugh a bit to myself. Because I’m a pretty self aware person, and I guarantee the only reason I posted it was because I knew deep down it wasn’t the best way to spend my day. 

Young Enough to Learn Better

A couple weeks ago, my child was spanked by someone I know. She was being 5, kicking his foot repeatedly (thinking she was funny) and he gave her a swat. I did not see this transpire. I was standing about 6 feet away in a crowded room, and walked over to see her staring, eyes slightly red (as if she were going to cry). He stated that she kicked him and needed to apologize. I assumed she got embarrassed and froze up. I told her she needed to say sorry, that kicking can hurt. She said sorry and he walked away in a huff.

Later, I noticed she wasn’t quite herself. I asked her what was wrong. What happened when she kicked him? She said she kicked him too hard and he spanked her. That she couldn’t say sorry, because she was trying not to cry.

Pause. Breathe. My mind raced with rage. Who the hell hits someone else’s child? But my job is to bring peace and comfort to my child, not instill fear or worry. So I asked her if it hurt. She said no, it just surprised her. I told her it was ok to feel embarrassed and sad about it. I told her that this man was a dad too, so he probably just responded how he would with his own child….but she wasn’t his child. So it’s not ok that he spanked her. Only our parents are allowed to spank their children. So I would talk to him. Tell him our rules, so he will know that is not ok. Because I’m the mom. That’s what moms do, they make sure their kids are ok, and that other grown ups know our rules. She smiled, hugged me, and it has not been brought up or talked about since.

So now I was faced with the task of talking to this man about it. I wanted to make sure I was clear with it, but also wanted to make sure to control my urge verbally rip this guy a new asshole. So I texted him. I expressed my conversation with her to him, and stated I do not want him to ever spank my children.

Now, if his response would have been, “I’m sorry. I was raised differently. It won’t happen again.” I wouldn’t be writing this blog right now. See, we’ve all done things before and not realized it contradicts a parents rules. The correct response is “I’m sorry.” Not justification, not blaming, just sorry or a possible, “thanks for letting me know.” Showing respect for a parents rules (even if you don’t agree with them) can defuse the entire situation.

I have daughters. I am a single mother. I have spent my children’s entire lives instilling in them that it is not ok for a man to hit them. No person is ever allowed to put a hand on them. I also have worked very hard on making sure they know they can talk to me and that I will be their advocate. If they have a problem with an adult, just walk away and come to me about it. That’s MY job to handle it, not theirs.

After approaching this man about it, I was told, “I wasn’t mean or did it hard. I won’t do it again, but I’m not putting up with a kid acting like that.” And “I am nice to the kids. It’s not like I slapped her across the face.” And very similarly, “She needs respect people’s space and learn stop means stop. I’ve been nice to her. I won’t spank her again, but I’m not dealing with it. Period.” And my favorite (when I told him he needs to come to me if he feels she is taking it too far), “Talk to you? When? I hardly ever get a word in with you.” (That was a nice jab a me, eh?)

She is 5. Anyone know a 5 year old? They play…and joke….and take it just past the point of ok sometimes. This is the age they’re learning their boundaries. Especially with people they don’t know. It’s hard for them to gauge when something is ok, and when it’s not. That’s what parents are for. To help them learn when appropriate times for rough play are. To help them learn how to read people and to know what’s acceptable and what’s not. That’s MY job.

Back to the blame thing. His response floored me. HE is the adult. I can understand a 5 year old struggling with self control, but there is no excuse for a grown man to impulsively spank a child and not take responsibility for being out of line. Thousands of teachers, daycare workers, babysitters, and other adults deal with AWFUL, truly disrespectful children. And somehow, control their urge to use any sort of physical discipline every day. He was out of line. I don’t care if it wasn’t a “slap across the face”, I will not have my daughter’s think it’s ok for a man to hit them, even if they “deserve it”. I will not let them grow up feeling that an adult’s actions are their fault or that somehow in their control.

I started writing this blog in the hopes to convay the importance of teaching our daughter’s to not feel that just because someone is bigger, older, in charge, etc, that they should ever be ok with being physically reprimanded. That they should never feel like they deserve it. See, I reaffirmed in my sweet 5 year old something that has already been established. It’s a non issue now. I doubt she’s even thought about it since it happened. But it’s on my mind constantly. Because I am a woman who knows how scary it can be in the world.

I want to jump back to 18 year old Bethy. I was seeing this guy for a short period of time. He was a “nice guy”. We would play wrestle sometimes, and he would physically overpower me. Then he would laugh and ease up. I would get a brief panic, and then laugh it off. Then it happened. He came over one day and said, “We’re going to have sex.” I laughed and said no we’re not. He looked at me with a dead straight face and said, “I wasn’t asking.” I had sex with him. I didn’t want to be raped. I knew I was no match for him physically, and just got it over with.

Maybe he was joking. Maybe I could have said no, and he would have been mad, walked away, and there would be no lasting memory of this. Maybe. But see, he had already proven his dominance over me. Those moments of panic and feeling over powered were red flags I played off as no big deal. He had so masterfully made me feel like it was my fault, I didn’t even fight it.

THIS is what I’m trying to teach my daughters. To walk away from people when the red flags go up, not when it’s too late. Is the man that spanked my daughter abusive? I doubt it. Honestly, I feel like he’s just that self focused that he couldn’t get past his feelings of embarrassment to hear what I was saying. But I wasn’t making a fuss over this for him. It was for her. That little girl that needs to know our bodies are ours. That setting boundaries isn’t about the other person’s feelings. It’s about listening to that thing inside that tells us something isn’t right. It’s about being ok with making someone mad at you.

I’m too poor to give a sh*t

I used to love politics. Back before there was a witty meme to express every view. Back before social media enabled people to share each and every political thought or feeling. I was pumped up about it. I was inspired. I knew what I believed to be true, and felt people needed to hear why. I honestly felt I could change things, I could, and would, make a difference.

Now I just don’t care. I’m too poor to care. Yes, too poor. I never noticed this before I hit the poverty line, but being poor really does make it impossible to care or have concern about anything past what’s directly in front of you. My mind will start to wander on things, then, like a daydreaming child, life slaps a ruler on my desk to bring me back to reality.

I used to consider myself a conservative. I was very vocal about it. If you didn’t work for it, you’re not entitled to it. We should keep what is ours. Keep the government out of my pockets! I could keep going, but you get the idea. As a young 20-something, I looked at life with excitement and possibility. Not everything in life was great, but those are just life lessons. I work hard, I love my kids, I knew I was going places. Those who were struggling, really should just work harder. They really should have made better life choices. I mean, I’m all about helping the poor, but not the ones who are out there fucking up their own life, they need to take responsibility. I’m not going to be their enabler.

I was such an arrogant asshole. The audacity I had, that somehow I was financially better off because I deserved it more? The mentality that only certain people deserved help, and somehow I believed that I had the ability to discern who is worthy? I wasn’t making better choices. I wasn’t somehow more enlightened. But I felt I was. I looked at the poor as this group of people who were in a vicious cycle. A few may escape, but it’s their value system that’s flawed. They embrace ignorance. I would help with Habitat for Humanity, or at the soup kitchen, and pity these people. I would say I cared, and even try to get out there and do things to help, but my vision was still fogged by this underlining superiority I didn’t even realize I had.

I love reading 1984. If you haven’t read it since high school, I recommend picking up a copy and read it as an adult. I have read it at least a dozen times. Each time, I find something new jumps out at me. This time, it is the proles. I never understood them. I assumed, they were probably just uneducated and simple minded. How the heck can they go about life, with everything that happens in that society and just let it happen? Even Winston points out their large numbers. If there is ever to be any change, it lies with the proles. I realized, I am a prole now. My life is consumed by daily tasks. I really don’t care what happens in politics. I just want to be with my kids, and make sure I can put food in the fridge. I look forward to little breaks from the harshness of life, and refuse to spend that time doing anything but stuff I enjoy. I am too poor to care.

It’s quite ingenious isn’t it? This system we have set up? That the rich are allowed to give us just enough to survive off of, but not enough to to feel content? Contentment is a dangerous thing. That’s where people start to think. Contentment is the place where ideas and change are allowed to be born and nourished.  I can hear 20 year old Bethy now, “You shouldn’t be expecting handouts. If you want a better life, you need to work for it.” There is no arguing with 20 year old Bethy. So, I would sigh, smile, and say, yes. I need to work hard.

Conservatives are so selfish. I don’t know if they are aware that they are, but their ideas and thoughts are very “survival of the fittest”. Every day we make choices. Their advice to me, is to be heartless, selfish, and self focused. To clarify, I am not talking about being this way to other’s that are poor. They are suggesting I need to be this way to my own family. Because that’s what it would take. My choice everyday is to focus my efforts on myself and my wants, or my children. Believe me. I could very easily become wealthy and successful without my children. Every daily action, every job choice, every….well, everything, is done with the understanding that I am mother. Forever. I chose to abandon my wants and desires.

I’m not saying liberal is the way to be. Honestly, I feel they are all the same. Their ultimate goal is to keep the poor where they are. They will feed us news clips to bring out what little passion or anger we have. They will encourage funny memes (Because if it’s witty or funny, it’s way easier to get behind than a boring slogan), and I will continue to not have the time or energy to care. I am exactly where they want me.

All that being said, now I have to go. Because I have to take a shower, go to work, and talk about the weather with clients. I will most likely try to analyze current friendships or relationships. I will tell my coworkers about my current life dramas, and hear about theirs. Then, I will get my kids and try to scrape together dinner. After homework and bedtime, I will most likely spend 2 hours scrolling through fb and playing puzzlequest. Then, I will sleep. I acknowledge I am a prole, but have yet to be offered a solution that is currently obtainable. So, I will keep on with life, one day at a time.

Pain is the Price, and I Gladly Pay

My dad died a year ago today. Life did go on. I did learn to laugh and smile again. Bills were paid, work was done, and friendships were made. At the beginning, I couldn’t understand how we were going to be able to do it. My mind could not fathom how a pain so deep could ever ease. For almost 30 years, there was a person who loved and supported me, and he was gone. How do you live without someone you have no memory of being without? But here I am, surviving and living.

Today I was asked why I was still sad. Why I was still holding on to the grief. They said they have lost a lot of people in their life, and they don’t let it get them down. People die. We all do. They don’t understand the holding on thing.

My first thought was, are you fucking kidding me? I am allowed to be sad and miss my dad. Hands down, the least comforting text I could have received today. You don’t tell a pregnant woman to “get over it” in any circumstance. Doing it when she is missing her dad who died suddenly last year, is a new level of asshole I didn’t know existed. The tears of hurt and anger streamed down my face. How could anyone have such little compassion?

After my complete shock and hurt calmed, I felt pity. I felt sorry for this man. That he has no one in his life he could say losing would be devastating. That there is no one he loves so deeply, it would change who he was if they weren’t here. How lonely. What a sad life.

Loving is risky. Loving wholeheartedly, pretty much insures pain. We do all die. All of us. So why do we attach and love? What’s the point if we know that the deeper we care, the more horrid the pain? We love because the benefit is worth the pain of loss. We give a part of ourselves to people, they give a part of themselves to us. When we do this with the right people, we know that person makes us a better person, and hopefully we make them a better person.

Life is a miserable thing. There are things we enjoy to do, that will ease the pain of living, things we like and look forward to. But a hobby or a fun moment lacks the substance to keep us happy to be alive long term.

Knowing my dad, loving my dad, and losing my dad have all played a part of who I am. This is how I get through in this dark cruel world. Knowing that one person can make such a huge difference in my life. I am glad his death hit me so hard. I am glad that I have people in my life that I love so much that their death will change me. Because that means their life has changed me too.

So I will grieve today. I will think about my daddy. I will be sad. I will cry. I will also pick up my kids from school, do some laundry, make dinner, and go to the store. I will continue to live. Just like I have been doing for a year. But I will not apologize for acknowledging his death changed me. I will not pretend it is not still very painful. I will not feel like I need to explain myself. If you cannot comprehend this type of deep rooted pain, my heart breaks for you. This pain reminds me of how loved I was by him. This ache in my heart tells me it was real. These tears are a welcomed, they let me know I have a big heart that can love.