Posts Tagged: Parenting


13
Jul 11

Waiting

waiting-on-the-moonWhen her babies were small, she had an urge to knit tiny striped mittens with pink and green and purple fuzzy yarns.  Now her kids wouldn’t be caught dead wearing handmade mittens.  Friends were having babies who needed their precious hands protected from the harsh winter winds.  She could make mittens for those babies.

She was waiting for her mom to teach her to knit.

He often found himself at a friend’s house on Saturday afternoons, and after swilling a couple beers, someone would suggest playing a pickup game of basketball.  He’d laugh and say, “I’ll sit this one out.  I’m lousy at basketball.”

He was waiting for his dad to teach him how to play basketball.

He’d read all he could find on SEO, blog traffic, building customer loyalty and what the experts had to say about making money on the internet.  He’d finished his most recent course, made some progress and signed up for the next impressive looking webinar that would surely push his project over the edge.  He lacked the confidence to believe that he had the skills and knowledge that would make his project a success. Continue reading →


5
Jul 11

The Narcissist’s Lens

She gets off the phone and sighs and says, “Dad says he’ll go to the park with me for a little bit, but he doesn’t want to stay too long because he gets bored.”

He comes back from riding his bike around the block and says, “How come dad doesn’t ever want to do what we want to do?  If he does finally do what we like, he mopes and pouts and tells us he has to get going.”

He shows up at the house with a new baseball mitt for him, and nothing for her.

He sits on the step and pretends to listen to her talk about her imaginary pony until an adult walks up.  Once he sees the opportunity a new audience provides, he stands, turns to this new person and tells him tales of mountain bike rides and how many hours he logs at the office.  Realizing that he is no longer listening, she looks down and continues drawing her pony.

He tells me that he’d like to call his dad and tell him about how high his ollies are now, but his dad doesn’t listen and act excited.  He’s thinking that maybe his dad says that it’s cool that he loves skateboarding, but he can feel that his dad is pretending to care.

They have both told me that they don’t know why they can’t be themselves around their dad.  They don’t show him their silly sides or their tired sides, or the side-splitting funny sides because they fear he won’t approve.

It’s exhausting having to be perfect all the time.

It’s no fun pretending to be something you aren’t all the time.

“How come he doesn’t want to love who we really are?”

__________

After the last visit, he turned to me and said, “I think they’d want to spend more time with me if they weren’t missing you while they were with me.”


11
Jun 11

Nothing Says Love Like a Bowl of Rice Krispies

rice-creepiesLove isn’t grand gestures, flowery platitudes, or mountains of toys.  Love doesn’t require self-sacrifice on the part of the giver.  Love doesn’t demand service from the recipient.

Love is an accumulation of many little acts.

  • A warm lap to land on at the end of a crazy day.
  • A look in the eyes that tells them, “I know you.  I understand why you feel this way.  I will listen.”
  • A warm “chocolate milky” every morning, and the ability to ask for a little more chocolate without making mom mad.
  • Watching the 9,000th kick flip and yelling encouragement.
  • A safe big bed when the shadows on the wall look like ghosts.
  • Knowing that she likes less peanut butter and more jam.
  • Knowing that he dips absolutely everything in barbecue sauce.
  • A readiness to answer questions, no matter the time or the lack of answers.
  • Catching his eye at the skate park and mouthing the words, “Olive Juice.”
  • Knowing that each of them has different signs that indicate that they are hungry or stressed or tired or over-the-moon happy.
  • Allowing them to be who they are without judgments or expectations.
  • A note on her pillow saying she’s the most talented girl I know.
  • Pouring a bowl of cereal every morning, and tucking them in every night.

4
Jun 11

The Commencement Address I Wish I’d Heard

Congratulations!  You did it!

Pat yourself on the back.  While that might be the only pat you get, it’s the only one that matters.

You’ve proven that you can sit still, be quiet, stand in line and follow rules.  Those skills will come in handy.

Now it’s time to create your future.

You don’t have to know what that is today.  In fact, you don’t have to have a plan.  You don’t have to pursue a title or a label or lots of dollars.  You do, however, owe it to yourself to find something you love doing.

How do you know what that is, you ask? Continue reading →


25
May 11

The Making of a Passive-Aggressive

you-bore-me“Dad’s here!”  Instead of heading to the door to greet him, she ran to her bedroom to change her shirt.  As he walked into the living room, she came walking in from the hallway wearing a hand-me-down t-shirt.  She smiled up at Mark, and said, “Hi, Daddy!”

I don’t think he noticed her shirt.  If he did, he didn’t say anything.  If he did, he certainly wouldn’t have thought it applied to him.

After he left, I asked her why she’d decided to wear that shirt.  She stretched the shirt out in front of her so I could read it better.  She looked up at me and grinned.  She didn’t say anything.  She didn’t need to.

I didn’t discuss the appropriateness or inappropriateness of her choice.

______ Continue reading →


19
May 11

You Tell Me

So…

I received what I thought was a spam comment, only I wasn’t sure.  It/he/she said, “I can’t view your site from my phone. Help!”  So I got to looking and checking on plugins and upgrades and CSS stuff.  I even considered pursuing a degree in Computer Software or How to Pretend Like You Know What You Are Doing With Computers, and then I thought I’d ask you.

Would you like to be able to view this site on your phone?

What would you like to see here?

Is there a subject you’d like to see discussed?

Are there topics or discussions that you’d like to see more of?

I am loving my random approach to topics, but I always go back to thinking of the survivors out there and the ones who read here.   I want to continue to share the tools that have helped the three of us.

If there’s something that you’d like to see here, that you think would help your corner of the world, please list that in the comment section below.

 

Thank you, spammer or nice person or whatever you are for asking about how to view this blog on your phone.

 

One day I might be savvy enough, or even care to want to view a blog on my phone. Don’t hold your breath. I’d have to wrestle my phone away from Will, first.

In the meantime, thank you for reading, commenting, and recommending this blog to your friends. This site only gets richer if more take part in the sharing.


16
May 11

A Charmed Life

skater-dudeThe front door flew open.  I looked up just in time to see him toss his helmet on the couch.  “Mom!  You got the house phone, right?  Did dad call?”

“Not yet, Will.  You sent a bunch of texts and a couple voice mails.  He must be busy.  He’ll get back to you.”

Against all odds, Will had invited his dad to check out the remaining snow on the ski hill.  It was the sort of outing that Mark usually suggested, so there was a good chance he might consider going.  In fact, Mark had said that it sounded like a good thing to do on a Sunday since he’d be done with work.  Later, when Will realized what he was in for, he said, “What did I do that for?  Why did I invite dad?  I always think it sounds like a good idea, but it’s never that great when we actually go.”

 

That’s how it is for the child of a narcissist – they crave the attention of that narcissistic parent like any kid craves attention from a parent, only when they get the attention, they usually end up hurt, rejected or dismissed.  Or, they get hurt when the parent doesn’t show up, even if there’s a sense of relief that they are spared another unpleasant visit. Continue reading →


13
May 11

On Antiperspirant and Aha Moments

dandelionsShe’d just walked in the back door from checking on the neighbor’s dog.  Time to start baking treats for the church banquet and making calls to beg for donations for the school fundraiser,  in between loads of laundry.  She had the T.V. on for background noise, even though she didn’t have time to watch anything.

Her Aha Moment was delivered by the Power of Oprah, as so many Aha Moments are, these days.

She paused long enough to lean against the kitchen counter, a spatula in one hand, cell phone in the other.  She ignored the sound of the dryer buzzer while she let Oprah’s message sink in.

She would be turning 50 soon, and she finally realized that she’d spent her entire life in a flurry of activity trying to please, make nice, and earn love, all because she never really felt love coming from her mom.

After taking the clothes out of the drying, and de-panning the rest of the chocolate chip cookies, she sent me an email. Continue reading →


6
May 11

The Deer or the Tick

She dipped another bite of chicken in ketchup, and stared out the window.

I could see she was contemplating something, but I asked, “Are you going to take that bite?”

She put the fork down and got off her stool.  Then, in uncharacteristic fashion, she picked up the stool and slammed it on the floor five times.  She sat back down and said, “There!”

I looked at Will to gauge his reaction.  This wasn’t like Jenny at all.

“Um, Jen…  what was that about?”

“I’m just frustrated with dad.  I’m tired of crying.  Eight year old girls shouldn’t pout, it’s embarrassing, so I figured I’d slam my stool a few times.  I do feel a little better, except look at all the junk on the floor from slamming the stool.  Sorry about that.”

_____

I could have launched into another of my “motivating” talks about how feelings are important.

  • It’s good to talk about it.
  • I know how you feel.
  • What’s the funny part of this story?
  • Do you really want to be in a funk right now?
  • Let’s choose a new attitude.

blah blah blah blah blah

I’m tired of hearing myself say the same things over and over again.  I have to think they are tired of hearing the same things, too.

So I acknowledged her frustrations.  I let her calm herself down.  I think I said something wise like, “That sucks, doesn’t it?”

We finished dinner and went outside to skateboard, draw on the sidewalk with chalk, laugh at the cat and walk the hill.

_____

The next morning we eased into home school in our most favorite way – I read a couple chapters to them.

This is the pearl we uncovered that morning:

“… your pain, like all you feel, is great.  Yet I fear that instead of stepping through your pain, as you and I have stepped through many a marsh, you have let it cling to you, like the blood-thirsty tick that rides our backs for months on end.” —Eremon, the stag
an excerpt from T.A. Barron’s book, The Fires of Merlin

 

Therein lies the power in storytelling.


30
Apr 11

Middle-Of-The-Night Musings

night-lightJenny can’t fall asleep unless she leaves her lamp on.   (We’re working on that.)  I usually wake somewhere in the night, stumble down the hall, reach over her sweet, eyelash-framed face and quietly turn off the lamp.

Last night was no different.  And because I also had to pee, I mistakenly looked in the bathroom mirror.

Here’s the first thing that popped into my head:

“God.  Do something with that hair.”

Then it was, “Can’t you find some better looking pajamas?”

Followed quickly by, “When are you gonna buy some of those whitening strips?  Everyone else is walking around with luminescent teeth.  What’s your problem?”

I turned off the light, crawled back in bed, and after letting out a long sigh, I thought…

Give It A Rest!

Let this woman be.

Can’t you see she’s trying?

It’s the middle of the night!  Can you let up on her for one minute?  Why do you always have to find the negative?  How about saying something kind, for a change?”

And then my brain took a turn in a completely new direction.

This is where it went…

  • Stop those mean thoughts.  Right now.
  • Find something you like about yourself, and – at the risk of being narcissistic – think on that for awhile.
  • If that doesn’t work, treat yourself the way you treat the kids – except for the way you treated Jen the other day when you yelled at her out of anger and frustration at yourself, because you were wallowing in feeling pudgy and ugly, and exhausted from dragging yourself up the last year in this decade of the 40s.
  • Sink back into those pillows, get some sleep for this body that could be worse, and greet the morning without the usual angst and toxicity that follows that first cup of coffee.
  • Go outside and breathe some fresh air.
  • Go for a walk.
  • Smile at yourself.
  • Then get in the car and get some of those whitening strips and some Monster Spray for the Lady With The Mean Voice.

Question:  Are survivors of narcissistic relationships more critical of themselves than the average hyper-critical, magazine-reading, teeth-whitening-strip-using, hair-obsessed, muffin-top-fighting, but still lovable, kindhearted woman?  Or are we all this mean to ourselves?


25
Apr 11

I Hate Holidays

easter-eggAs I walked through Target looking for something to get the kids for Easter, I passed the poofy, over-the-top Easter Dresses.  I remember getting a couple Easter Dresses for Jenny.

She didn’t wear them to church.

She wore them in the garden while digging for worms.

She didn’t really need an Easter Dress.  I needed to be able to buy her one.  I needed to be able to take a picture of my little girl in a frilly, crinoline-stuffed, white dress, with a pink satin ribbon tied at her tiny waist.

That dress and the picture were on my list – the long, guilt-driven, impossible-to-achieve list of All Things Moms Do. Continue reading →


20
Apr 11

It’s On Me

charcoal-sweaterGawd!

I’m doing it again.

I’m complaining…

about the weather;

about Mark;

about Kevlar Man;

about my hair;

about this little town I live in;

about my to-do list;

about the weather.  (I meant to type that a second time.)

I’m wallowing in the deep, muddy grooves of my fallback position – that of the negative, the pessimistic, the gloomy and the down.

Quick!  Somebody stuff a sock in my mouth.

Enter @PicsieChick

Her gentle, sweet spirit, carried on the wings of butterflies – even in the depths of this season pretending to be Spring – sent this tweet:

How are you making your day fabulous today?


Yes!  She’s right!  It’s my job to make my day fabulous.

It’s not Mother Nature’s job.

It’s not Mark’s job.  ha…  ha…

It’s not Will’s job or Jen’s job.

It’s not Kevlar Man’s job.

It’s on ME to make my day fabulous.

I started with a little half and half and a pinch of sugar in the coffee I usually drink black to avoid extra calories.  Muffin-top be damned!

Then I answered some of the questions on Will’s worksheet – for him – to spread the fabulousness to him.

I sent Jenny outside with her roller blades and a dusting of the fabulous sprinkles.

I cranked the music on Pandora.

I called to offer to watch a friend’s cat while she heads out of town.  (Yes, offering help is a way to make my day fabulous.)

I opted to make the kids what they want for lunch, instead of what I feel like making.

And now, to work on my book.

It’s on me to make this day the way it can be – fabulous.

p.s.  Yes, I’ll be wearing my favorite sweater, too.


13
Apr 11

Getting Away

vacation

Vacation is what you take when you can’t take what you’ve been taking any longer.
Unknown

 


10
Apr 11

Lessons From the Road

bridge-at-hoover-damI haven’t been in a hurry to get back to this place.  My brain still feels like it’s coming off of a shot of novacaine.

The lights are on, but no one’s home.

Before the numbness wears off and I lose the sweetness of escape, I need to jot down a few notes about why it’s good to get away.

  • There’s no point in going if I don’t like what I come home to.  Escaping only makes real life more difficult to handle and harder to swallow.  (You may be surprised to hear that we are happy to be home.)
  • Leaving for awhile gives me the ability to see the forest instead of the trees I keep running into.  The trees seem less daunting from a distance.  It’s good to get away to get the big picture.
  • Continue reading →


30
Mar 11

It’s My Vacation and I’ll Cry If I Want To

I took my mess with me on vacation.  You see, I am my Mess.

I bought Allison Nazarian’s book.  I hoped to read it on vacation, from cover to cover.  I enjoyed the first three pages between cocktails, horseshoes, walking, badminton, washing dishes generated from fabulously cooked meals, riding bikes, driving around to see all there was to see, putting band aids on blisters, making more cocktails and playing that game where you throw the golf balls on the strings at the frame made out of pvc pipes.

I scrambled to make sure that I kept my kids happy, my mom happy and my man happy.

My stepdad can fend for himself.

God bless that man.

Midway through the week, at 2 a.m., I found myself on the fast train to a crying jag. Apparently, accommodators should not attempt to please more than three individuals at any one time, without risking total collapse.  I was in dangerous territory. Continue reading →