Parenting

I’m Sorry, Tired Baby Mamas, I Forgot

May 31, 2017 by Kathryn

I woke up this morning feeling twice as tired as I’d felt when I went to sleep. My eyes were blurry. My head felt stuffed with cheese. I wasn’t thinking clearly. In fact, the only clear thought in my head was a strong urge to never leave my bed again.

I had been up in the night with a sick kid.

And I don’t really do that anymore. Maybe three times a year. Usually, they tell me in the morning, “Mom, I felt sick last night.”

And I, fresh and chipper as a non-morning-person can be say, “Oh man. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help you now, today, in the beautiful light of actual morning?”

All is as it should be.

But last night, my 7-year-old was up with a bad cough. And, after I’d had 4 hours of sleep (which I realize is a long stretch to most moms of young babies) she came to the side of my bed, coughed wetly into my face and said, “Moooom. I feel awful. Can I sleep with you?”

Sure. Why not? Awful is my favorite kind.

She then proceeded to sniff loudly every single time she breathed in and cough explosively every fourth time she breathed out. She shifted around and asked for water… with ice… and begged me to take her temperature. She hugged me and pushed me away and smushed up against my back.

Now there’s something cute in all this. There’s something fun about being needed. But, a few hours later, when my alarm went off and I felt like dead trampled dog meat, nothing was cute.

She sat up cheerfully and hopped from the bed.

“Get back here,” I said, “I can’t justify staying in bed and not helping the middle schoolers get ready if you are no longer sleeping. And I am incapable of moving because my brains are missing. We will sleep for two more hours.”

She sighed and climbed back next to me.

**SNIFF**SNIFF**SNIFF**COUGH!!

Right now it’s noon and I’m still in my pajamas.

The breakfast dishes are undone and I can’t quite wrap my head around showering.

And I think of you, moms of babies. And I realize that I forgot. Many things.

I remembered the cuteness and the squishy thighs. I remembered the closeness of nursing a sweet little baby in the peace of the dark night. I remembered everything wonderful about my little sweet snuggle lumps.

But I forgot the brain fog. I forgot the intense, all-consuming desire for sleep and the way your days are ¼ as long because you are not mentally aware enough for the hours to count as “waking”. I forgot what it’s like to sit and wonder whether your eyes are all the way open because everything is such a blur.

I just forgot.

And I salute you. Whenever you get dressed. Or show up on time for your older kids’ music class. Or make something for dinner that’s not cooked in the microwave. You are rock stars. And don’t let the fact that no one else remembers what it’s like make you feel bad.

I’ve often thought it would be cool to go back and write a time management book for new moms, now that I’ve got things figured out a bit more.

This morning I realized that the book would have to read something like this:

How to Get Your Crap Together as a New Mom

1. Wait 6 months until you can get more than 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
2. Take a shower.
3. Resume normal activities.

As for today, I will accomplish… Octonauts.

A Stranger Things Birthday Party for Laylee – BARB IS ALIVE!!

March 9, 2017 by Kathryn

A couple of weeks ago my friend’s husband came to pick my kids up for church youth night. He is also my friend but this story feels more dramatic if I refer to him as “my friend’s husband.” While he was waiting for them to get ready, he asked me a question.

“Does this Saturday work for Laylee’s birthday party or would you rather do it next week?”

I had no response to this.

A. I’ve never had one of my friends’ husbands approach me about the timing of my teenage daughter’s birthday party.

B. I had momentarily forgotten that she had a birthday.

“I mean,” he continued, “We’ll want to have it fairly close to her actual birthday. We could do it at my house, but I’d rather do it at yours.”

What.

This only made it worse. I mean, he’s a good friend, but. What?

It turns out that, as he was driving the jazz band carpool, he had been talking to Laylee about the “locked room” party craze. He’s super creative and wanted to plan an elaborate puzzle like that. And so they hatched a plot. Mike would spend hours creating a locked room/puzzle birthday party for Laylee and her friends, one of whom was his daughter.

It was just that no one had told me about it. So. The confused face.

Once I was up to speed, we got to work. Mike did all the mad genius stuff and I set the mood.

The mood?

Retro 1980s Horror Show That Half of Laylee’s Friends Aren’t Allowed to Watch Because it’s Practically too Scary for Me. Perfect. Here’s how it went down.

The girls arrived at our 80s abode and we fed them dinner. Eggos. 80s dance music was playing.

As they were finishing dinner, I knocked at the front door, dressed as Joyce Byers. This was convenient because I just recycled my Halloween costume.

Joyce was crying as usual and told them to come out on the front porch. It was an EMERGENCY! You see, she believed that Barb was ALIIIIIIIIIVE!

While we were out on the porch, Dan and Mike threw grey thrift store sheets over everything to make it Upside-Downy and then dimmed the lights and flipped on some blue ones.

Joyce told the girls they had to go into the Upside Down and save Barb.

Back inside, Chief Hopper awaited to tell them how the puzzle worked. Everything they needed to unlock the secret door under the stairs and save Barb was on one specific book shelf and table. Then he gave them a walkie talkie and told them to contact him if they needed assistance.

The way Mike set up the puzzle, there were three numbers they needed to find that corresponded with three stickers next to a padlock.

The first riddle involved them sorting books by height. Each book had a letter on it. When sorted properly, the letters spelled Tolkien. When they looked in the Lord of the Rings books, they found a clue to another detailed puzzle. Once solved, that puzzle gave them the quote “rings for mortal men.” There are 9 rings for mortal men in LOTR, so the number was nine.

The second riddle involved an unfolded cootie catcher. Remember those little paper folded fortune tellers from when we were kids? When they folded it and held the points together, it contained a musical staff with a line of music. When they played the song on the piano, it was the theme from Star Wars.

In the Star Wars VHS tape on the shelf was an oddly cut out piece of paper. There was another piece of paper with similar markings on the table. They had to hold up the cutout paper a foot above the table paper with a flashlight shining through it.

The combination of the projected light from the first paper and the symbols on the second paper spelled out the word “quinze”, which means 15 in Portuguese. Good thing there was an English/Portuguese dictionary on the table. The second number was 15.

For the third and final clue, there was an 80s Troll puzzle half-assembled on the table. They had to put it together, squish it between two cookie sheets, flip it over, and read the message on the back. The message contained 4 quotes they recognized from Harry Potter books. Now, I know Harry Potter is not 80s appropriate, but we needed to pick books the girls would all be familiar with and time is irrelevant in the Upside Down.

They found the correct books and in their pages were the pieces to a brightly colored Sudoku puzzle. The colors matched the colors of M&Ms in a jar on the shelf. They had to solve the Sudoku puzzle, count the number of M&Ms and then do a math problem with those numbers, giving them the final number for the code.

They unlocked the door.

And found this VHS video from Barb inside.

She was ALIVE!!! And she’d left them some rad treats. Scrunchies, Coke glasses, hot pink nail polish, and makeup bags with Nerds inside.

Here is a picture of the girls watching Barb’s message. I love the older kids’ delight contrasted with Wanda’s horror. Eaten by monsters? Gross.

And I let them eat cake.

And monsters ate no one.

Halloween and Bible Videos

January 23, 2017 by Kathryn

This post was originally written a couple of days after Halloween 2016 but I guess I was too tired to post it because I never did. I just found it on my hard drive so I thought I might as well “throw it up” on the blog. No pun intended…

Wanda slept on Dan’s face Tuesday night.

He did not like it.

She had stayed home from school with a cough on Monday, one of those annoying coughs that probably sounds worse than it is. And it sounds plenty worse. So you keep your kid home so people won’t hate you and your stupid offspring.

Generally, and specifically actually, we have a rule that you can’t go out and do activities in the evening if you stayed home sick during the day. Too sick to go to school? Too sick to go to moonlight pony camp. But, being Halloween, I broke down and told her she could trick-or-treat as long as she didn’t cough on anyone.

The good thing about letting her trick-or-treat when she was sick was that she tired out before too long and we got to call it a night, not because I hate fun and love bedtime, but because she was done. I had to respect her wishes.

The bad thing about letting her trick-or-treat when she was sick was that she stocked up on candy. Candy suppresses your immune system. Candy, in overabundance, makes you sick to your stomach. And let’s be honest. We might as well rename it, “Overabundanceween,” because it’s a day dedicated to too much. Also, excessive sugar can spike anxiety.

We didn’t let her eat any on Halloween night and the next day she seemed well enough to go to school. That afternoon, she made up for lost time, consuming every sugary chocolate morsel she could shove into her candy hatch. Her capacity is high.

By dinner time, she was all filled up. By bedtime, she was vibrating. Aaaand… she didn’t “feel so well.”

I laid with her in her bed. I laid with her in my bed. I sat next to the toilet with her while she said repeatedly for an hour, “I’m gonna do it. I know I’m gonna do it! It’s HAPPENING!!”

It didn’t happen.

And eventually I sedated her with bible videos.

We laid in my bed with the iPad and some little kids explaining baptism. Good times. As each video ended, she’d say, “I think I’m gonna barf!” and I’d hit play on the next one.

Dan joined us in bed, and Wanda, lulled into submission by the flickering screen of doctrine and the midnight hour eventually fell asleep. On his face.

Maybe next year we’ll just skip the trick-or-treating and go straight to the bible videos. I bet that would go over well.

Make America Engage Again – Santa, McMullin, and Me

October 18, 2016 by Kathryn

I’ve often been asked, “How do you tell your kids that Santa isn’t real?”

Actually, I don’t.

As my kids mature, I just change the way we talk about Santa. When they’re little, they think of him as a powerful entity with endless resources and the ability to make their dreams come true.

Frustratingly, he doesn’t always use his powers to fulfill their fondest wishes. Sometimes he brings socks or a boring lunchbox. And they grieve. But their power is limited so they write letters and wait and hope for good things to happen.

But, as they grow, we have a frank discussion. Santa is real, but he’s not just one guy. He’s millions of people who use their time and resources to make magic happen. I’m Santa. They’re Santa. And they become actively engaged in spreading holiday joy.

It’s an earthshattering and exciting transition.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve experienced a similarly disruptive and thrilling change in the way I think about presidential elections.

As a moderate conservative, human person, who believes in equality and civility, I watched with horror as Donald Trump snagged the presidential nomination before the Washington State primary.

My last choice Democrat was running against my last choice Republican. And I felt completely powerless. It was like hiding and watching Santa fill my stocking with lima beans. Slowly. For months. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Because Santa is in control. And we say, “Thank you,” and move on.

I turned off the news. I blocked friends who posted political rants. I gave up.

The two major parties are like our parents, telling us that Santa is The Man, and we are welcome to write him letters but they probably won’t make much difference.

The major media outlets are like that mean kid in first grade who tells you there is no Santa.

In September I started hearing about Evan McMullin, an independent candidate who’s gaining ground quickly in Utah and other western states. I clicked on a link. And I could not stop clicking.

Evan McMullin actually has the momentum and credibility to say, “There is a Santa. And we’re all him. And if we work together, we can realign America with its founding principles.

His chances of winning the White House are slim. He needs to win enough electoral votes to stop both Trump and Clinton from reaching 270, sending the decision to the House.

It is the longest of longshots, but I have never seen anything like the groundswell of support that follows whenever he opens his mouth. Americans recognize truth. We crave it. And he’s in a virtual tie with Clinton and Trump in Utah and gaining supporters daily. In a tight race, that could be the ballgame. If the race isn’t tight, it still sends a clear message to the Republican Party that we demand candidates who reflect our values.

So, suddenly I transitioned from discouraged and apathetic to outspoken activist. Many of Evan’s supporters are people who have never taken a public stand politically, attended a rally, or drummed up political discussion at the bus stop. But, suddenly we are engaged and we are on fire.

And every day I hear, “A vote for McMullin is a vote for Clinton,” and “A vote for McMullin is a vote for Trump.” The truth is, when you realize your actual power as a voter, you can’t vote the odds anymore. You can’t practice statistical democracy.

A vote for Evan McMullin is a vote for civility, patriotism and a new generation of American leadership. A vote for Evan McMullin is a vote for Evan McMullin.

I don’t tell my kids there’s no Santa. I explain what Santa looks like to caring, engaged adults.

I won’t tell you there’s no hope for change in American politics. I’ll tell you what hope looks like to caring, engaged adults.

Hope looks like Evan McMullin and his millions of supporters who are proving it is possible to Make America Engage Again.

Debate Night

September 29, 2016 by Kathryn

I let the kids stay up and watch a bit of the debate I’d DVRd on Monday night. Hillary vs. The Donald. My kids’ excitement at witnessing the event soon turned to incredulousness.

“Are you kidding me?” they said more than once.

Because, even in middle school, they understand basic civility and the need to give concrete evidence to back up your position. And we didn’t witness all that much of either.

Eventually, Dan suggested that we all talk over each other as loudly as possible for a couple of minutes to immerse ourselves in the spirit of the debate and then we sent them off to bed.

There are a few things I liked about this debate.

1. The debate. I like that we still hold debates. No matter how much one or both candidates plan and prepare, in a debate setting we get to see how they react to pressure, how quick they are on their feet, and how clearly and concisely they can state their position. Debates still hold value for me as a voter.

2. The split screen. I loved watching their reactions to each other on the split screen. You want a president with a good poker face sitting at the negotiating table across from Valdimir Putin.

3. No breaks or interruptions. I like that we don’t cut to commercial or give them downtime. The tension builds and the candidates get tired. And they have to deal with it. Watching the second half of a debate is especially telling.

There are a few things I disliked about this debate.

1. The candidates. I’m not a fan of either of these people personally or politically. I am a fan of America. That makes things difficult.

2. It felt like I was already watching the Saturday Night Live spoof of the debate. Both candidates almost seem like caricatures of themselves.

3. Implication by correlation. Have you ever noticed that in the debates, they imply things by correlation? Like listing how many people have been killed since President Obama has been in office. Well, how many people have eaten a burrito since Dan and I have been married? It’s sobering.

When I mentioned this on facebook, one friend said, “I think the more sobering question might be, ‘How many people haven’t eaten a burrito since you and Dan got married?’ Because eating burritos is happy, and not eating them is very sad.”

To this, I responded, “You’d need to fact check that on my website to be 100% sure. Maybe the 400 lb hacker ate them, leaving none for the 99% of Americans who got no burritos.”

I don’t love this election. I really don’t. But I love this country and I’m trying to be as informed as I can about all the candidates and issues and vote for who and what makes the most sense. This year I feel like my real power to make a positive difference comes on the local level. That’s probably where my real power lies every year.

I’m just glad I get to vote at all.

Don’t let frustration over the current candidates get you down. Don’t waste the gift. Remember how many people and issues are on the ballot, aside from the presidential race. Let your voice be heard. Vote!

Do Something Good

September 19, 2016 by Kathryn

On days when I exercise, I’m much less likely to snarf a huge bowl of Mac and Cheese for lunch. On those big workout days, I tend to eat more veggies, lean meats and whole grains.

It’s not because I think, If got up at Stupid o’clock in the morning to burn 800 calories on a spin bike, I’m not going to eat back that entire amount in cheesy carbs!

It’s generally because I feel awesome about working out and I want to keep that high going. It’s about momentum and it’s about tasting victory.

One good choice in my life almost always leads to another good choice because doing good feels… what’s a good word to use here? AWESOME!

If I wake up and train like an athlete, then I feel all athlety and fierce and it’s only natural that I’ll want to fuel my athletic body with the right kind of fuel.

Choosing to be athletic makes me feel like an athlete. And when I feel like an athlete, I act like an athlete.

The same goes for my parenting. If I make a conscious effort to reach out to one of my kids and ask about his day, then I’m a nicer mom in our next interaction. I feel closer to him. We understand each other better.

Choosing to be nice makes me feel like a nice mom. And when I feel like a nice mom, I act like a nice mom.

So what do you want to be like today? Do one thing that a person like that would do. Savor how it feels and let that momentum carry you away on a pillowy cloud of Awesome.

Take one step forward. Do something good today.

A Tiresome Day

September 15, 2016 by Kathryn

A few weeks ago I took Wanda and Magoo into the next town over to get some new tires put on the Swagger Wagon. The next town over is awesome. It has a Wal Mart and a movie theatre and a state prison. It has a cute downtown main street district, almost like our town, but with more snazzy jammie retailers, tattoo parlors, smoke shops and places that will pay you cash for gold.

We chose a mom and pop tire shop over the big retailers because we like to support local business and they were much cuter on the phone AND equipped to do both the tire install and the alignment in one visit. Their prices were almost competitive. And they said they could get it done in a little over 2 hours.

So we dropped off the car at 11am and they told me it might take a biiiit longer than they had originally thought. That’s cool, I thought. We’ll walk over the train tracks, along the busy highway, and past several strip malls to the movie theatre and catch a show.

Although the next town over has a dollar store, it does not have Uber. Weird, right?

The walk to the theatre was a little over a mile, my longest distance since the surgery. Woot. And we had a great lunch of nachos, popcorn, and slushies while we watched The Secret Life of Pets. Good. Not great. The kids loved it.

We stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things, walked past a couple of loudly screaming teens with expletives on their t-shirts, enjoyed the sun, and carried our groceries the mile back to the tire store, by way of a couple of very cool little vintage shops.

Altogether, kind of an awesome day, a bit weird, but awesome. However, it had been three hours and I had super ripe peaches at home waiting to be canned. It was time to get this show on the road.

But the car wasn’t done.

So we stalled at a used book store and bought a few things. They were serving Slytherin Iced Tea in honor of the new Harry Potter Play. Nice people. And when I said we were waiting for our tires to get done, the bookstore owner looked at me appraisingly and said, “The Big Chain Store or Mom and Pop.”

He approved of my choice.

But the tires still weren’t done.

So, to round out our Next Town Over-ish day, we stopped at 7-11 for boxed hot dogs and microwaved burritos. The hot dog box said, “100% Delicious” and Dan later asked Wanda if those words were true.

“Not really,” she said, “Maybe 99%?”

But the kids were 100% awesome. Because we spent the next couple of hours in the shop waiting room. It smelled like a mechanic shop and flies were buzzing everywhere. And the seats were old and dirty.

But Magoo could not get over how comfortable they were. And Wanda happily did magic tricks to herself with an old deck of cards while I read my book.

At one point the mechanic invited me back to show my why he was having trouble getting the alignment right and asking if he could put some after-market parts on the car to help it out a bit. He was kind. And he explained things well. And everyone in the shop treated us like we were family.

When it was time to go, about 6 hours after we’d originally dropped off the car, the elderly owner of the shop pulled my kids aside and lovingly told them how special they were.

“And do you know how you get special kids?” he asked.

They smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

“With very special parents.”

He gave me a warm smile and handed each of the kids an intricately detailed die cast car. They were thrilled. And they are special kids. It’s strange to say, but it was one of the best days I’ve had in a while. Just hangin’ out in a Podunk downtown, eating at the Sev with my peeps.

And the lateness of the hour saved me from having to can peaches in the heat of the day. It was not hot at midnight as I finished up the last batch.

As we left tire shop, my special son informed me that my special daughter had put stuffed her special trash into one of the towers of tires. So I got to stand on a chair and do a handstand inside the tires to fish it out.

Special times.

A bit tiresome. But special, nonetheless.

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links. This means, I may receive a small commission if you choose to purchase something from a link I post. Don’t worry, it costs you nothing but it helps keep the Awesome flowing. Thanks!

Maybe it Wasn’t ADD

September 9, 2016 by Kathryn

It happened.

After 13 years of parenting little people, I no longer have a lunch buddy, a grocery buddy, or a pound on the door while I go to the bathroom buddy. For 6 hours. Every. Single. Weekday.

Starting this week, my kids are all in school fulltime.

I’ve had wild emotional mood swings about this.

Last year when I chose to only put Wanda in half-day kindergarten, it had a little to do with money, but mostly it was about – I wasn’t ready yet. She was ready. SO SO ready. But I couldn’t bear to let go of my last little friend for that many hours each day.

I knew I’d miss her, miss my role as a fulltime stay-at-home mom.

Motherhood is my favorite thing. Gratitude is not a strong enough word to describe how I feel about being a mom.

But it is brutal sometimes. And it is not cessant. Even a little bit.

Halfway through the school year last year, I started to get excited. Wanda was overripe for full day school at that point and I found myself daydreaming about all the things I’d accomplish when I had more uninterrupted time.

I could write a novel worth publishing. I could go back to school and become a doctor or an astronaut. I could even find out what it feels like to finish a thought before being interrupted.

I’ve been a casual on-again/off-again writer and blogger for ten years, periodically taking on too much freelance work. Then I would scale way back when I realized I was incapable of being a great working mom of young kids.

My blog has gone through periods of large readership, but things are quiet around here these days. I just haven’t had the time and focus to give it.

As I contemplated my new free time and all the ways I could fill it, I started to get really excited. I was ready. I could do this. I was simply moving into a new chapter of my life and I might love it.

Then a couple of weeks ago I went online to pay school fees.

And there was a box by Wanda’s name.

For lunch money.

I was overcome with sadness. It was sadness that she would be eating lunch with someone other than me. Sadness that a hugely important phase of my life was ending. My identity for the past 13 years was gone. I grieved.

So I didn’t know what to expect this week as the kids headed off to school.

Would I be sad? Would I be lonely? Would I be bored?

I doubted I’d be bored. I’d spent the entire summer (whenever I wasn’t having emergency surgery) making a business plan for all the writing and marketing I was going to do this year. But maybe I’d be depressed or lacking in motivation to follow through. That scared me.

The morning of the first day of school, Wanda was eating breakfast while I read. She called my name.

I looked up to see a concerned expression on her face.

“What’s wrong, Wanda?”

She eyed me with pity.

“When I leave for school today, the only one you’ll have to talk to is Cortana.”

(We’re a Windows Phone family. Cortana is my personal digital assistant. Like Siri’s big sister.)

To her, that was a horrible prospect. Me, sitting alone at a table, my head in my hands, repeatedly saying, “Cortona, tell me a joke.”

I walked her to school. I had a nice walk home. I showered in silence.

Then I got in the car to run an errand and this feeling welled up inside my chest, a feeling I hadn’t been expecting.

Total, pure, bubbling JOY.

I can do this. In my worry and sadness about turning in my full time stay-at-home mom badge, it hadn’t occurred to me that I would be getting another badge back. KATHRYN. I was overcome with this feeling of reclaiming a part of myself that I willingly surrendered many years ago.

I am autonomous.

I am free.

I am simply Kathryn for six whole hours each day.

And I love it.

I have gotten so much done in the past three days. I can’t even believe it.

Lately I’ve been talking to my doctor about the possibility that I might have ADD. My thoughts have been so scattered and I’ve had such a hard time finishing tasks and following through.

My kids just started school fulltime and I realized – maybe I don’t have ADD. Maybe I just have children.

I think my explosion of productivity can be explained this way – In the past, when I’ve had an hour to work on a blog post, what I’ve really had is:

5 minutes to work on a blog post

6 minutes to have my hair styled like a princess

3 minutes to work on a blog post

5 minutes to notice the pirate booty on the floor and pick it up before it got ground into the carpet

10 minutes to work on a blog post

15 minutes to kiss the invisible owie and find the band-aids because IT JUST FEELS LIKE BLOOOOD

3 minutes to work on a blog post

And then 13 minutes to figure out how the Octonauts were possibly going to rescue the Humuhumunukunukuapua’a

Now, when I have an hour to work on a blog post, I have AN HOUR TO WORK ON A BLOG POST.

And I miss my kids. But that just makes it more fun to see when they get home each afternoon. Missing them is not the worst thing in the world. I’m genuinely delighted to see them when they come home.

Enjoying this phase of life doesn’t take away from how much I adored being home and raising my kids full time. Some of my most precious memories were made during those times and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Today as I drove home from volunteering at the school, I saw a mother with her toddler, standing by the construction site. They were holding hands and engrossed in the digger truck action. I felt a twinge in my chest and thought, “I don’t do that anymore.”

But I like this time too. I’m coming to believe that there are seasons enough in our lives for all the good things we want to do. We just need to look for the beauty in the one we’re in and be present so we can make the most of it.

Are You Really Going to Let Someone Talk to Your Friend Like That?

May 31, 2016 by Kathryn

friends1 I was recently speaking at a high school. The topic was Drops of Awesome and my mission was to convince the students of two things.

You are so much better than you give yourself credit for.
You can improve who you are and become who you want to be almost instantly, depending on the next tiny choice you make.

The kids were amazing and receptive and the energy was fabulous on a level I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I hope they were as affected as I was.

I started our hour together by telling them about my high school friend who used put-downs as a fun and hilarious relationship building tool, ala – “You’re such a dork! Let’s go get lunch,” or, “Okay Loser, what are we gonna do after school?”

This wore on me and eventually we stopped hanging out. But then I told the girls about a much more destructive friend I made in my young adult years.

She constantly put me down, told me I wasn’t good enough, that my efforts always fell short. When I succeeded she told me it was luck and when I failed, she said I deserved it and she’d always known I was incapable of doing anything well.

As I described this friend to the kids in this high school class, there were several audible gasps.

“That is so mean!” one girl exclaimed.

These teenagers were more than a little horrified that I’d let someone talk to me like that, which is good, because those kind of put-downs are horrible. I should never have let anyone talk to me that way. In fact, I should try to stand up against that kind of negativity whenever I hear it, regardless of who it’s directed at.

What made getting rid of this nasty friend so tricky was that she wasn’t some outside person. It was my own inner voice, holding me back from success, setting me up to fail, kicking me when I was down.

I would say terrible things to myself that I’d never say to a friend or even an enemy. Do any of these sound familiar?

-Of course you’re late. You’re always late.

-No surprise. You made a crappy dinner again.

-I swear you’re the only parent incapable of remembering to turn in a field trip form on time.

-You look so fat today.

Would you ever say things like this to another person?! Would you ever stand back and watch someone say things like this to one of your friends?!

I’d like to think that most everyone would stand up for a friend they saw being treated so poorly. So it’s time to act like your own best friend and stand up when you hear your inner voice spewing garbage like that. (I know we’re getting all kinds of split-personality-ish here but that’s okay. Is it? Yeah, I think so. Okay, I agree.)

So, you toss a box of cereal on the table when you get home from work and tell the kids to eat quickly because you’re already late for baseball.

In your mind you hear, “No surprise. You made crappy dinner again.”

You answer back, “You know what? I made dinner again. I’m feeding the heck out of these kids.”

“But this isn’t healthy. You’re probably the only mom who does this.”

“I’m positive I’m not the only mom who does this and that doesn’t really matter anyway. This isn’t how we ALWAYS eat. This is called baseball season. While I’m on the bleachers, I’m going to make a list of all the awesome meals I have made in the past and that I plan to make again when life gets back to normal. And for now, I’m going to feel good that I remembered to buy cereal. Also, I’m about to be sitting on the bleachers again for three hours. D to the ANG! I’m the nicest mom ever.”

Do a few things for me this week, precious please.

Notice when you’re being a jerk to yourself.
Fight back.
Don’t let anyone talk to your friend like that.
Eat some cereal for dinner so I can feel better about myself.

friends1

Drop Kick – Using Drops of Awesome to Teach My Kids (and myself) to Pick Up Our Dang Shoes

May 3, 2016 by Kathryn

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about finishing things. I’m not talking about finishing a race or finishing a college degree or finishing your grass roots campaign against the evil sheriff of Nottingham. (I ask you, Brother. Are you gonna finish what you started?!) I’m talking about flushing the dang toilet and putting your blow dryer away when you’re done with it. I’m talking about WHERE ARE MY SHOES??!!

I am great at cleaning my house. Super great. I have a lot of practice because I’m also really good at trashing it. I go through phases where I’m really consistent about cleaning as I go. And then I have a hardship like a toothache, or a busy week, or a good YA novel, and I fall off the wagon.

I do better at being consistent when I’m counting Drops of Awesome, when I’m congratulating myself for every small thing I get done, but due to some of my habits and routines, I have set up a system where I need to do a million more Drops of Awesome each day than I should really have to. I make my life harder by not following through and completing basic actions. So I have to go back and clean up after myself over and over again.

Take my blow dryer, for example. I frequently have to go “clean my vanity,” which involves putting my makeup, blow dryer and face wash away. This only takes a couple of minutes to do but it’s a couple of minutes I could be doing something else. And there’s really no reason it should be its own task at all. Part of drying my hair should be putting away the blow dryer.

Think about an action or a routine that you do on a regular basis and ask yourself, “At what point do I consider my action complete?”

Can you imagine using your blow dryer and then just dropping it to the ground as soon as your hair was dry, with the machine still running? No way. Part of “drying your hair” involves turning off the dryer when you’re done. I also always place my blow dryer on the counter rather than just releasing it from my hand and letting it crash to the floor.

I get a Drop of Awesome for turning it off then and another one for placing it on the counter.

Then I look at that action and ask myself, how can I kick this up a notch? How can I get one more Drop of Awesome by taking this action just a tiny step forward? I call this a Drop Kick.

So, for me, the blow dryer Drop Kick was to, in one motion, unplug the blow dryer as I’m turning it off and place it under the sink, never letting it touch the counter. Because this was a revolutionary move and so out of my usual routine, I would say, “Drop Kick!” every time I did it. It was me, improving one of my daily routines, just a Drop.

Soon it became a habit. And I almost never have to “clean the vanity.” It has become self-cleaning.

Now, you may be great at blow dryer follow-through. I’m so happy for you. But is there anything in your life that you could kick up a notch to make your day go more smoothly?
I sat my kids down a while back and asked them to each think of one Drop Kick they could focus on for the week. They picked things like, “Don’t let my backpack out of my hands until I reach the backpack shelf,” and “Don’t let my shoes touch the ground in the front entry.” (There was some coaching involved.)

For two of the kids, this has made a big difference. The front door clutter is down and they have a much easier time finding their stuff when they need it.

Another side benefit of this common vocabulary is that if someone forgets, rather than saying, “Wanda, pick up your backpack,” I can say, “Laylee is doing a great job Drop Kicking her backpack. Wanda, did you remember your Drop Kick when you came in?”

It’s a subtle difference but the cute catch-phrase really helps the medicine go down. And we’re building new, improved habits every day.

What do you want to Drop Kick this afternoon? Pick one thing that you could do a tiny bit better!