Let's All Be Slackers

LONG POST ALERT  Please do read on, but don't say I didn't warn you.  My fingers really got to click-clacking away with this one!  Just when you think I've lost my way or won't circle 'round to my original point...wait for it, wait for it...it'll be there!


Let's all be slackers. Yeah, I said it.  Surrrrrrrrrre did.  Yes Siree, Bob!  I, for one, would like to be a slacker.  And I would really like to encourage you to be a slacker, too.  Tell a friend.  Tell your Mom, your Sister, your Cousin's Uncle's neighbor's hairdresser, too.  Tell 'em allllllllllllllllllllllllll to be slackers.

Perhaps I should explain myself....because, if you've read my blog before, you are probably wondering what's causing this 180 degree shift.  

As you know, we recently welcomed a baby girl into our family.  I know I promised a post dedicated to her arrival, and I'm working on it (I want to get it exactly right because she deserves it!).  So two months ago, our family of three became a family of four.   The transition hasn't been without its flaws and it hasn't been without challenge.  I'm quite confident that I've made mistakes here and there and I'm pretty sure that I haven't always presented my best side during these last two months.  

On the flip side, it also hasn't been without moments of palpable bliss, and a love so deep and overwhelming I'm certain my heart will break.  And I bet, if I look realistically at the last two months, I'll see myself pulling off some incredible feats to balance out the less than perfect.

As you also know, I'm a FT Director of Development for the American Heart Association and a Beachbody Coach...add that to wife and mother of two.  Remember the title of this whole blog; "It's a Juggle Out There" was taken from a quote I read about the "struggle of the juggle."  It's a very real thing---and until recently, I didn't like to admit it.

See, I try to have a positive outlook.  So much so that I revamped that quote and chose, deliberately, not to include the word "struggle" in the title of my blog.  I didn't want to focus on the struggle part of that, but the juggle.  I try to maintain perspective and to realize that someone, somewhere has it far worse than I.  We're all juggling in one way or another. 

But even with those efforts, I realized something recently; I need to embrace the struggle.  Okay, that's not fair.  I'm not actually embracing it.  More like tolerating it.  Or acknowledging it.  I don't like struggling. I don't like feeling overwhelmed.  And I really don't like showing it.  This whole post is one ginormous step outside my comfort zone.  I'm not perfect; never claim to be, never strive to be.  But being this humbled and knocked off my game?  That is taking some getting used to.  Asking for help?  Whoa--don't even get me started!

I've read several amazing blog posts lately about the concept of trying to do/be it all as a Mom.  They capture the less than wonderful side of being a Mom.  It's not all roses and champagne (oooh, that'd be nice!).  It's not all glamor and ease (at least not for me!).  It's locking yourself in your bathroom for 15 minutes just to get a moment's peace.  It's taking the longer way home after work, again, to enjoy a few seconds of quiet.  And I sit here, reading them, nodding my head in agreement.  And instantly being wracked with guilt because I feel like I'm a horrible person for feeling that way.

But the truth is, I can relate to those moments.  So I might not like to admit it.  But I do.  I admit it with a little tightening in my chest and a lump in my throat.  And these women have, too.  We can--or should--all admit when we're not at our best.  We can all come to terms with the fact that we need help from time to time.  We can all recognize our limits and scale back when we've pushed them too far. 

The one I loved the most talked about "some day" syndrome.  Some days parenting means more TV time for the kiddos than you'd normally allow simply because you've had a rotten day and need a few more minutes than usual to regroup.  Some days you don't feel like reading one more Dr. Suess book or playing one more round of Chutes & Ladders.  Some days you look the other way at a dinner plate still littered with vegetables and serve up a big ice cream cone anyway.  Some days you curse at your alarm clock and opt for a little more sleep over a workout and a fleece robe and slippers over a sports bra and yoga pants.

And you know what I say to all of that?  It's okay.  It's okay to have some days....because they are not your every day.  In the grand scheme of life---and all of the live each moment messages we're bombarded with---a few some days does not equal the sum of your days.  Will my kids be permanently scarred because they watched three episodes of Sophia...in a row?  Nope.  Will they become morbidly obese because of one ice cream cone vs veggies here and there?  Nope.

My Grandma used to always say, "Every little bit adds up, Amy.  The good and the bad."  She's right.  So why do I get so caught up in the bad adding up and refuse to accept that the good adds up, too?  Silly, isn't it?  Human nature to focus on the negative?  Well that's a shame.  But sometimes it's reality.

Sometimes our circumstances can bring us to a place where negative is the only thing we see. And sometimes that's perfectly okay, because it certainly helps us appreciate all the positive when we get there, doesn't it?  Here's the thing---our negative is our negative.  We all define our bad moments/days/weeks/years differently.  It's not a competition to see who has it worse, as if the person who "wins" gets to complain for the day.  Each and every one of us has our thing.  And our thing matters to us.  So whether my thing is bigger than your thing or vice versa, it's about supporting one another with whatever that thing is.

I was talking with one of my dearest friends recently--she actually inspired this post--about how it's so easy to see someone else's struggle that's bigger than yours and immediately feel shame for even categorizing your struggle as such.  For example; I might complain about how sore I am after a grueling workout and then I think about a friend who is fighting cancer.  Suddenly griping about my sore quads and strained abs feels wrong.  But my thing is my thing and hers is hers. Is mine petty?  Maybe...but in the moment, it is a real "issue" I'm dealing with.

Right now, that "thing," for me, is recognizing that things are really different in our home, our world, right now.  Good different, and even (gasp!) bad different.  Adding one more kid may not seem like a lot, but let's reconsider that notion.  Being home FT is different.  Being home with a newborn is different.  Helping a KINDERGARTENER is different.  Being home with Mark is different.  Not being consumed with work is different.  Our sleep schedules are different.  My body is different.  Our routine is different.  Like I said, there are goods and bads to all of the different....and it's okay to say that out loud.  It's okay to see some of it as bad--it doesn't, or shouldn't, diminish the good.

One afternoon, when I was about 7 months pregnant, I had reached my limit.  I was tired, uncomfortable and fed up with work.  I was frustrated, anxious and hot.  And I remember saying to Mark, "Before I totally lose it here, I need you to say two things to me.  Just two things.  'I love you and this is temporary.'"  

That became my mantra, and is still serving me well...when I remember to recite it.  It works with Abby when she's holding her ears to block out Alyssa's crying; "I love you, Abby, and this is temporary."  It works with Mark when he's getting the brunt of a long, exhausting day of feeding, diapering and being spit up on; "I love you, Mark, and this is temporary."  And it even works on Alyssa, when she's struggling to fall asleep or enduring a check up; "I love you, Alyssa, and this is temporary."  Because it is; it all is.  It'll all change, evolve into something else.  Some other issue, some other bliss.  It'll alllllll be different.

Life is different.  There are moments I miss life as three.  Heck, there are moments I miss life as two.  To be perfectly clear (and I'm sure you get this and I don't even need to state it, but I will), I love my children more than the air I breathe.  There aren't even words to properly express that kind of love.  And even a love that profound and consuming can present its challenges.  

Like losing independence.  Moms joke about never peeing alone.  It's true....something about me going into the bathroom makes Abby's need to share a story about what someone did at lunch that day that much more urgent.  So I'll say it; I miss alone time (and not just peeing!).  I mean, we're coming up on a year since I got pregnant with Alyssa which means it's been nearly a YEAR since I've had any time to myself.  Once upon a time, I thought that was a selfish way of thinking.  But then I realized that it's important to have that because when I go too long without some time to myself, it's not pretty.  Bad things happen.  Bad things, folks!

So I miss that.  And I miss the special one on one time I used to have with Abby.  She's so in love with her baby sister that she insists that she joins us whatever we're doing.  Naturally, my desire to strengthen the sibling bond wrestles with my desire to be alone with Abby.  I miss being the one to snuggle Abby to bed.  That's Mark's job these days, as I'm downstairs feeding Alyssa.  I miss the sleepy breaths she takes as she murmurs in her sleep with her arm slung around my neck.  I miss the smell of strawberry shampoo that lingers on my tshirt from where her damp head rested. 

I miss the one on one time with Mark.  We would get Abby snuggled in for the night and go back downstairs where we'd catch up on something we had DVRed or split a beer and bitch about work.  Or we'd plan out fun family activities and talk about some cool things we've already done as a family.  I miss spontaneous day dates in town when we'd meet for lunch.  I miss being the wife; because right now, being the mom is taking over.  And it should.  It has to.  For right now.

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All too soon, I'll be able to add a new "I miss" paragraph.  The "I miss being home with Alyssa" one.  The "I miss the baby stage" one.  So I'm making a conscious effort to soak up every last drop (spit-up pun not intended!) of this amazing time.  I have forced myself to put away my phone and simply stare at her impossibly long fingers.  I have laid on the floor playing peek-a-boo with her, ignoring the sinkful of dishes that are begging to be washed and put away.  I have half-slept sitting up in bed so that I can cradle the warm, softness of her little body and listen to her snore.  Yes, she snores--takes after her Daddy!


For many, this kind of "be in the now" is common practice.  For me, this is active practice.  In that I'm not good at it.  Yet.  But that doesn't stop me from trying. In fact, it makes me try harder.  Being present is not my greatest ability.  Though I wish it was.  

Rather than wishing, I'm working.  I'm seeking out people and events that can teach me this art and help me embrace it.  Even those bloggers, who write about wishing their 5 year old would PLEASE JUST BE QUIET!! or praying for a child-free Saturday afternoon are helpful.  They give me permission to acknowledge my feelings, doing so with a lighthearted humor that makes the reality sting a little less.  I don't see them as bad Moms for feeling that way; and I don't see myself as a bad Mom for agreeing with their point of view.  



Which brings me to being a slacker.  I told you this was a long post, but I also told you I'd come back to my point.  I think we should all be slackers.  As in "cut ourselves--and each other--some slack."  I mean, who says we have to be perfect?  And what the heck is perfect, anyway?  Sure, we can strive to be better than we were yesterday, but....


I can list all of the things I don't do or haven't done for my girls.  I can.  And what would that accomplish?  Feelings of guilt and inadequacy?  Who needs that?  I can also list the things I do and have done for them---and not give a flip if my list is longer than yours or vice versa.  I can cut myself a little slack and realize that I can't do/be/give it all.  There are choices we all have to make.  And I choose the things that make our home a happy one.  I choose the things that will matter.  Most of the time.  I do, ruefully, get swept up in those three crazy sisters...Woulda, Coulda and Shoulda.  Ugh.  Those girls need to GO!  As does the Joy Thief---also known as Comparison.  

I'll cut you some slack, too.  I'll realize that you're tired or overwhelmed or sad or feeling pangs of maternal guilt (not much stronger---other than the will of a child, I guess!).  I'll cut you slack when you cancel our lunch date because you'd rather have the time to be by yourself...totally by yourself.  I'll be kinder and less judgmental; of myself and others.  And you can do the same for me, okay? 

Cutting ourselves and each other some slack in no way means that we stop striving to be better, stronger, more present.  We don't give up on our goals, we don't throw in the towel.  We still try and we still succeed.  We still try and we still fail.  But we still TRY!

Will every fall-themed Pin I've nabbed on Pinterest become reality?  Nope.  Slack.
BUT, we will create our Fall Fun List and have a great time checking things off that list.
 
Will the table for Alyssa's baptism be 1000% perfect?  Nope.  Slack.


BUT, it will be filled with love, family and yummy food to celebrate a special gift from God.

Will I bounce back to "my old self" overnight?  Nope.  Slack.
BUT, I'll take steps EVERY SINGLE DAY, no matter how seemingly small, towards my goal.

As you go about your day, promise me that you'll try to be a slacker.  It'll make me happy.