Today is Saint Patrick’s Day. What seems like so long ago, I
used to get together with friends on this day to do what most people do on St.
Patty’s- wear green and drink booze. This morning, I wasn’t thinking about what
time to meet so-and-so at the bar tonight, dreaming of all the algae-colored
beer we’d guzzle, or which cute green top/dress/skirt/whatever I should wear. I
was thinking about the cute green top with the sequin shamrock and matching bow
with a Leprechaun on it Lily has, priding myself for actually remembering to
put it on her this morning before breakfast, and before she was already at
school (that often happens, that moment in the middle of the day that feels
like a rock sinking into my stomach, that moment of remembering something I was
supposed to do for/give her before sending her to school…and it’s usually the
thing her teacher sent a minimum of three reminders home regarding so us silly
parents wouldn’t forget…but, there’s always at least one who does, am I right,
teachers?).
And it’s these small acts of “getting it done” that keep me
going these days. The daily goals and accomplishments met, no matter how small
or insignificant when described to others, such as finally remembering to put a note in the garden from Lily’s pretend
fairy, Caitlin, AKA me. Remembering
to remind Grandma to call her insurance company to get her meds filled.
Remembering that Paul does like mayo
on his sandwiches now (he used to tell me it made the bread soggy, and he
swears he never said such things, but, even you
know better, don’t you??).
Notice how none of those things have anything to do with me
personally?
See, that’s the big change when you become a mom that you
don’t think much about at first as you do the changing of diapers, midnight
feedings, kissing scraped knees, first days for school, etc. Mom never comes
first anymore. The things to do for yourself are at the bottom of your to-do
list, unless taking a shower counts (many don’t even do that every day…we’ve
all been there, I’m sure). And, I think
that needs to change.
This week I attended the first Toastmasters meeting
I’ve been to since early January. I haven’t been going because either I felt
too crappy from my first trimester sickness, or I was busy doing something else
that took precedent, such as taking Grandma to a doctor appointment or making a
deadline on something more of a priority…or else I was just too damn tired.
But, this week I really wanted to go, needed
to go. Needed to be around adults and hear adults talk about adult things
in an intelligent manner and maybe even have some conversation that didn’t
involve my daily life and to-do list.
I was a welcome sight by all the members who I had gotten
friendly with since first attending in the early fall of last year, but that
tired feeling still lingered, so I did not engage in as much conversation as I
had hoped. And then the speeches began (they usually do 2 per meeting). The
first one up was presented by a women who does something really amazing
professionally- she’s an art therapist who works with children in hospitals to
assist in trauma recovery through creative expression. Her talk was on self-care,
and how important that is. She spoke of how, as rewarding as her job was, she
also has come home exhausted more nights than she can count, completely drained
with only enough energy to watch a few television shows before falling asleep
on the sofa. She one day realized this was affecting her happiness and daily
performance, so she started focusing on doing things for herself that made her
feel good. The things she chose were running and art, or reading when she truly
felt too tired to do either of those things. She’s also a dedicated mother and
wife, so her life is pretty full.
She provided examples and situations that could apply to us,
the listeners, and even handed out this mini self-help poster:
This speech really hit home, so much so, that I started
feeling a little emotional (which has been extremely common for me these days
due to this doozy of a pregnancy), and felt myself getting uncomfortable in my
seat. I wanted to leave the room and go get a coffee somewhere quiet where I
could digest all the thoughts filling my mind. Thinking about how tired I was
and how I wasn’t focusing on the things that mattered. I’m pregnant, dammit, but all I can think about is everything I’m not
getting done everyday!!!!
I stayed though, but didn’t even get to tell this woman-
we’ll call her Beth –how much her speech touched me. I will be sure to tell her
next time I see her, instead of darting out of the YMCA as soon as the gauntlet
adjourning the meeting is thrown.
And I did go get that coffee…and I took my time with it.
Then I did some window shopping (in between I was coordinating calls between
the admin at the VA office to schedule a meeting about my Grandma’s military
benefits, so there’s always something getting done…) and took my time getting
home (picked up the requested oatmeal cookies for Grandma on the way).
And last night Grandma and I went to bingo. That classic
bingo I have only heard about, or seen parodied in movies involving the
65-and-older crowd, where everyone sits at tables with there bright-colored dabbers
and numbered cards laid out in front of them like treasure maps, surrounded by
good luck charms and in their silly hats or lucky necklaces or whatever, and a
man with a mic stands at the front of the room spinning the big metal bingo
ball cage, while each player holds their breath in hopes of a winning number
being called. I was giddy with excitement over this Thursday night trip to the
VFW, grinning like an idiot as I picked out my dabber colors and chose from the
burger and dogs menu like I was at a gourmet restaurant (I got a cheese burger
and fries for $2! I wouldn’t shut up about it all night).
We ate our classic American fare and then we bingoed. We
bingoed for three damn hours! When she’d told me we’d be there until close to
10 o’clock, I thought she was mixing up her times again. Nope. Grandma remembers
what’s important to her, and gambling is one of them. We didn’t win anything-
not any of the small or large jackpots, or the door prizes, or even the
Bavarian Orange Crème cake (I swear that is what Grandma was most excited
about). But, we had a good time.
Last night was my self-care. Just doing something silly to
forget about all the nagging bills and jobs and chores and friggin’ unpacking
that still isn’t done. Today I feel renewed, with better energy (I started
writing this post at 7:45 am). Also, this morning my dearest friend- and new
mom! -posted this article entitled “To the Mom Who is Exhausted”. Damn did it ring that bell home. You should read
the article, even if you’re not mom (you obviously know one). Here is the part
that hit home hardest for me:
“For
some reason, as moms we feel like if we aren’t super woman each day, we are
failing. We put an immense amount of unnecessary mom guilt on ourselves. We
wear ourselves out by running around like chickens with our heads cut off,
trying to get it all done and never really doing one job well. We need to
realize we ARE enough.”
Today I salute you moms who do it all and still feel like
you aren’t doing enough! I salute anyone who feels that way as well, however
when you have to take care of a child (or 2, or 5, or 10), it is like taking
care of another form of yourself, so your workload is automatically doubled.
And, even though I am still not working yet (another post on that will likely
be in my future), I am working harder than ever these days…it just never ends
when you become a responsible adulting parent. And that’s okay.
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| Borrowed from HuffPost (click it!) |
Today is Saint Patrick's Day, but I often feel like my luck is running out (losing at bingo made me think that like 10 times before the night was over). Like I am still searching for my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I thought getting this house in NC would be it, though things have not gone exactly to plan (they rarely do). But, I have it so
good, so much better than so many people in this world. I came here expecting
amazing things, and not everything has gone according to plan, but I’m here and
I’ll do what I gotta do to make it work. And that’s enough.
Thank God for the love and family I have in my life.
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| My pot o' gold |
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