So. Hi there. I'm alive. And well, in fact. The truth is, I just haven't felt like writing lately. And when I say lately, I mean for five months, as it turns out. Imagine my surprise to discover that! I'm excruciatingly careful not to pressure myself about writing on this blog. The last time I wrote for any reason other than for fun was when I got paid to write a few articles for a local magazine, and it just sucked the joy right out of writing for some reason. So anytime I noticed myself thinking, "Oh, I haven't blogged in a while. I should maybe do that," I promptly ran the other direction.
The past few days, I've felt a blog post brewing. And last night I started typing. This morning, I woke up at around 6 am and couldn't sleep because I was writing it in my head. At 6 am. On a Saturday. Reluctant to slide out of bed on one of two mornings a week that I get to sleep in with Micah, I knew I wouldn't sleep if I stayed. And the twinkly lights of the tree on a dark morning and peppermint coffee were calling my name LOUDLY.
So here I am. What an amazing way to start the day. I have my holiday pjs on - red satin ones that remind me of my mom when I was growing up because she used to wear ones just like them. Beautiful but cozy and warm. And I've got my favorite blanket that totally looks like santa's red and white coat thrown over my legs. It's perfect, I'm telling you.
I want to talk about motherhood - for this post and probably one or two more following. But I don't want to worry the whole time that you're reading it through a lens of "Ginger's falling apart, I need to worry about her since she's been MIA for 5 mos and only comes back to write about motherhood and martyrdom." I'm doing great. Timon started sleeping through the night around a year finally, and all kinds of brain cells and endorphins started regenerating at that point.
Motherhood Part I
One of the things I have become acutely aware of since becoming a mom is that there is a pervasive lie out there that as moms we are selfish if we take care of ourselves. That somehow we don't deserve - well, anything really. And that we are bad moms and selfish little vixens if we want to do things for ourselves. Go away on a girls' weekend. Go out with girls. Work outside the home. Get away from our kids for the love of God. And, granted, I am living in Kansas. And I am surrounded by a group of friends who are mostly stay-at-home-moms. So I know those two things mean that it's probably more of a pervasive attitude in my circle than in some others. As a stay-at-home-mom, I can only speak from my own experience. So you working-outside-the-house moms out there, I hope you're catchin' what I'm throwin' even though it looks different in your world than it does in mine.
In Martyr Mommy Land, we joke about how many days it's been since we've showered. Or about our half-chipped, 6-month-old pedicure. We wear our "sacrifices" like a badge of honor. And it's normal to be too exhausted or busy to keep up with yourself in the ways you used to - for a while. But it's not healthy to make that, or things like it, the norm or an identity. Because when the kids get a little older, the "not taking a shower" badge gets replaced by the "home schooling even though we hate it" badge or the "cook dinner every night even when I want to punch myself in the face" badge. There's always some way to make this sacrifice into a currency. And to get more and more depleted as the years wear on.
For whatever reason, I'm not as afflicted by this as some others are (read into that what you will). :) I still have those voices in my head, but I'm pretty dang good at taking care of myself when I need to. It's not because I'm strong and work hard at it. It's a survival skill I developed somewhere along the way. I remember in highschool telling my mom I needed a "mental health day." Amazingly, she sometimes agreed to let me have one. I love that about her. She didn't know it then, but she was allowing me to listen to and develop that part in myself that knew it needed something. That inner voice that set off an alarm when I needed nurturing and a little TLC. So when I'm in conversations at a party where this self-minimalizing attitude is rearing its ugly head, I'll say some version of - "Hey, you know what? You should get away. You need to get away. There's nothing about that that makes you a bad mom or makes you selfish. It's not selfish to take care of yourself. It's not selfish to take care of yourself!!!"
You know what the response always is? "That's true. I can't very well love and care for everyone else if I'm run down and falling apart." This is what we do. We justify getting time to ourselves or taking care of ourselves by saying that it's all in the name of taking care of others. It's a problem that we think we have to justify taking care of ourselves in the first place. I think it's very easy as moms to forget that we have to allow ourselves to be filled up
first before we can overflow for others. That a broken, cracked
cup just leaks water all over the damn place. It doesn't serve anyone,
especially the cup itself, to let the cup get all cracked and beat up. But I think it goes one step further than
this even. Not only should we allow ourselves to be filled up, to
receive the blessings and goodness and love of the Father so that we, in
that fullness, can love others - I also think we should allow ourselves to
receive all those things just because. Because we are beautifully and wonderfully made. Because we are deserving of love and affection (from ourselves and others) as much as our children or our loved ones are. Because we are amazing and lovely and valuable in our own right. Not only for what we offer the rest of the world. But just because we are.
I was talking to a girlfriend the other day about her stopping nursing
her baby. It was a painful and difficult decision for many reasons,
many of which had to do with shame and guilt and the sense of inadequacy
- what would people think? Is she selfish to make a choice that helps herself?
Shouldn't she be endlessly, tirelessly, nauseatingly doing things that
help others, never herself? (As if it wasn't enough that she had just pushed him forth into the world through her vagina!!) From where I was sitting, it was clear that
the deeper healing here, the most important thing, was that she was
learning to take care of herself, to nurture herself. That she was
learning that it was ok to choose not to nurse simply because she didn't
want to nurse. Gasp. It was beautiful to watch her struggling through this so bravely. To see her listening to her voice, validating herself by saying, "You know what? I hear you. I hear that you hate this and you want to do what's best for your child, but you're miserable. We are going to stop now. You are loved and valued and you don't have to do this. Your baby gets so much of you. He doesn't have to get all of you all the time. Thank you for telling me what you need." We are all worthy of love and nurturing.
Micah and I took the boys shopping yesterday for an angel tree gift. Once that was accomplished, we wanted to walk them around the festive mall for a bit. I wanted a cute new outfit for a Christmas party, so I semi-timidly asked Micah what he thought about us looking for said outfit while we perused the mall. I felt bad hijacking our Angel Tree Extravaganza (even though we had already finished that part) and wondered if he'd think I was selfish to make it about me at the mall. He didn't. He (after briefly rolling his eyes - he hates shopping in all forms) totally jumped on board. He pushed our double stroller around the mall and was 100% engaged. He stood outside dressing rooms and gave spot-on, insightful opinions about my festive outfit choices. I felt so incredibly loved and valued. As I lay in bed this morning, it dawned on me: what an amazing example things like that are for our kids. They may not get it yet (although Douglas does on some level) but there they are, seeing a man really loving and caring for a woman. There they are seeing their daddy a) listening to the needs and desires of their mom b) completely engaging in the activity she wants to do c) showing her that she deserves love and care in these ways. That part deep within me that sometimes believes the lie that I shouldn't take time for myself or that this shouldn't be about me or my needs or wants felt so touched by that experience. I will not soon forget the mental picture of me coming out of the fitting room with my fancy holiday shorts and blouse on, and cowboy boots because that's what I'd worn to the mall, and showing my three fellas to see what they (read: Micah) thought. Douglas did throw in a "that's beautiful!" once or twice. It completely caught me off guard how valued and special it made me feel that picking out my holiday outfit was a whole family affair. It made me present to the truth that I am worth it.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that this culture has a completely skewed view of women. The biggest part of the true feminine is the ability to receive. Look at Mary, the most perfect example of the feminine. Sometimes we focus so much on her sacrifice - her willingness to accept this child into herself even though it meant she would be judged fiercely by others, even though it would jeopardize her relationships and her life, even though she would have to suffer excruciating agony as she let go of her son and watched him die a torturous death. Mary's sacrifices are countless and hugely powerful. But let's not forget that one of the most powerful things Mary shows us is the feminine ability to receive. As women, we need to let ourselves receive, not just give. We are made to do both.
Receive love this Christmas season. Receive joy and fun and nurturing. If you are someone who struggles to receive the blessings you are meant to receive, open yourself up to them. Receive the pedicure. Receive the freedom to stop nursing if that's what your inner voice is saying. Receive the freedom to slap some peanut butter on a stale piece of bread and offer it to your kids for dinner. Two nights in a row. Receive the joy of a long, hot bath with a bajillion candles and music and bubbles overflowing. It's all receiving. I'm not saying it should be all about us. You also get to receive the fun and beauty of watching your kids as they discover the joys of Christmas - as you help (and sacrifice) to create the magic of that time for your family. It's all part of the same thing. Giving, receiving. It's all wrapped up in one big ball of joy. My point is this: let's not glorify the one and completely forget the other. As women and as moms, sometimes I think it's easy to get waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too far on the side of glorifying giving and demonizing receiving and to make a full-on identity out of it. Martyr Mommy. Yucko. We are all made to give and to receive love. Which one is harder for you? Whichever one it is, consider using this holiday season to learn about that one - allow yourself to embrace it more fully.
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I'm going to post this one with no more editing, no fun pictures. Because the house is awake now and it's time to start our fun Saturday - and I'm afraid if I wait until I get it perfect or put all the perfect pictures in where they belong, I may never do it.
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