A friend recently sent me this photo she came across, I think in equal parts because it irritated her, AND because people like to send me things that they think will irritate me, as an impetus for a new blog post. (Irritated Jen = Writing Jen)
And she was right, because the photo did irritate me. I sat on it for awhile though, and looked at it again, and looked at it through different perspectives. And…. yeah, it still irritates me.
I get it, I think. I don’t actually think the intention is a bad one. I think it’s likely an antidote to the “Proud parent of an honor student, blah blah” (I have my beef with those stickers too). I think it’s likely just saying, “Hey, my kid’s not perfect, but that’s okay, and I love him anyway.”
But here’s the thing: Aside from not being particularly nice, stickers like this promote childism in the biggest way. When was the last time you saw a bumper sticker saying, “My wife sure is a bitch sometimes, but I love her anyway?” Most rational people would see something like that and recognize that it’s not cool. Or kind. Or productive. But we live in a society where it is not only accepted, but celebrated, to treat kids as lesser than. To treat kids with less respect and less kindness than we’d treat other family members. To treat kids with less consideration for their feelings than we’d extend to other loved ones. To treat kids as less than human.
Are children – any children – perfect? Of course not. They’re human beings. Are adults – any adults – perfect? Of course not. They’re human beings. We all have our moments, to be sure. I’m sometimes less than kind to my husband, and he’s sometimes less than kind to me (Ask us about the recent nearly knock-down drag out fight about asparagus…. except maybe don’t, because I’m not sure all parties are ready to joke about it yet) Everyone has their ugly (re: HUMAN) moments. The difference is, in real life, we accept this and work through it and deal with it in a healthy way. We don’t make announcements about it on our cars.
Stickers like this may seem completely innocent, and funny even. But in order to accept them, we need to be honest with ourselves and recognize that while sure, it’s dealing with a genuine human condition, it is also unfair and childist, and singling children out in a unkind and hurtful way. We need to be honest with ourselves and recognize the fact that very few people would be okay and/or humored by this if it singled out wives, or girlfriends, or husbands, or parents.
Until we, as a society, can do that, maybe it’s a message best left off our cars.
If you want to have clean dishes to eat off of, you’re going to have to wash them.**
If you want to have a bathroom – and floors and kitchens and bedrooms – that are at least relatively sanitary, you’re going to have to occasionally make time for some sort of cleaner and a swoop of a mop or a sponge or a paper towel.
If you want to wear clothes that are clean and odor-free, you’re eventually going to have to throw in a load of laundry.
They’re maybe not your favorite things to do – they’re not mine – but they don’t have to be unpleasant drudgery either. They’re just a part of life, and a part of keeping a nice home. Viewing them as a voluntary act of service for yourself and your family goes a long way towards making them, at a minimum, more tolerable.
Chores should never be an area of contention between you and your children.
I see article after article with mainstream advice about how to stop the need for nagging and get your darn kids to just do their chores already. They may suggest any number of variants of charts or stickers or rewards or punishments, but they all essentially say the same thing:
The answer lies in control and manipulation.
Bribe your kids, punish your kids, reward your kids (which, by the way, are all sides of the same coin). Just get them to dutifully do what you want. Then the chores get done, you don’t have to nag, and the problem is solved. But is it?
Using manipulation or coercion – and make no mistake, that’s exactly what these tactics employ – is a lose/lose proposition. Sure, it may “work” in the sense that the chores get done, but it comes at a price.
No one likes to be manipulated. Let’s just start there. It will cause your kids to resent cleaning. Or you. Or both. And isn’t that the exact opposite of what you want? Both when it comes to your relationship with your child, and with the harmony of your family working together as one cohesive unit? Mandating chores, especially in an authoritarian manner, will only make your children view them as, well… chores. Something unpleasant. Something that they’re doing simply because they’re forced to do it, and not because it’s nice to have clean floors or clean clothes or clean dishes. Something that they’re doing because their little sticker chart says it’s time, and not because it feels good to take pride of ownership by taking care of your things and of your space.
And there’s a larger problem. Children are not second class citizens who are here to do our bidding. They are human beings who are deserving of the same care and respect and mindful communication as any other loved one. If I have a problem or a frustration or a concern with my husband, I don’t make him a chart. I don’t lay out a list of things he needs to do differently to make me happy.
I talk to him. And I give my kids the same consideration.
So what do you do when you’re finding yourself frustrated with or yelling or nagging your kids about chores? You stop doing it. Seriously. Just stop. If there’s a chore that’s undone that’s bothering you, do the chore. Then figure out why it is that you’re so stressed about it in the first place. If you are yelling or nagging or otherwise being unkind, that’s a *you* problem, not a *them* problem. It’s not your kids’ job to regulate your emotions or your behavior.
And I get it. I do. Sometimes things just get off-kilter. I get stressed, my routine gets thrown off, I start to get snippy. When it happens, it’s a sign that I need to 1) Take a step back and evaluate what’s going on with me that’s making me respond that way. Is it just because we’ve been too busy? Have I not been taking care of myself? Am I worried or stressed about something that’s completely unrelated to my house or family? And 2) Talk to my family about it. A sincere and forthright, “Hey guys, I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed lately because of xyz, so would you mind giving me some extra help with – {whatever I need help with} – this week?” is a lot more effective, and respectful! than trying to manipulate their behavior through rewards or punishments. And you know what? When I do need to ask for extra help, 99 times out of 100 they are more than happy and willing to give it to me. (The one percent accounts for the fact that they are indeed humans and not robots.)
Finally, because it’s something that gets misinterpreted every single time I write about this:
Does this mean then that I just set myself up as a martyr, someone who does all the housework myself, even to my own detriment? No! We all pitch in. I do do the bulk of it (and I’m happy to do it), just because I’m a stay at home mom and have essentially signed up for this. But Mike does most of the cooking. 16 year old does the dishes. 20 year old usually takes out the trash and recylables. 9 year old and 12 year old step in with pet care. And on those deep clean days – AKA company’s coming and things are looking a little squidgy around the edges – any one of us might be yielding that broom, or duster, or mop, or toilet brush…
Without ever having to create a chore chart to make it happen.
(**Or get paper plates and plastic silverware! You do you. I won’t judge.)
The first time I read about bullet journals, I wrote them off as being too complicated and fussy. The second time I read about bullet journals … I still wrote them off as being too complicated and fussy. A few months ago, when I was waxing poetic about my love for all things pens and paper and lists, a friend (her name is Sarah, and she’s awesome) said, “I think you’d really love bullet journaling.”
I’ve looked at that before; it seemed too complicated.
It’s really not, she said. It’s as simple or as complicated as you make it. I really do think you’d like it.
Sigh.
Okay, FINE. I’ll look it up one more time.
GAME. CHANGER. This time it was love at first (third) sight.
So what the heck is it? It’s part planner, part journal, and part to-do list. For some people it’s also a sketchbook, and/or an art journal. Ryder Carroll, the gentleman who created the system, describes it as something to help “track the past, organize the present, and plan for the future.”
The video below is from the official bullet journal website, and gives a good basic overview about setting one up. But if you’re not sure, or you’re confused, or you want to see more…. keep reading for how I set up and use my own. A Google and Pinterest search showed me that there is a whole world of bullet journal ideas and inspiration and adaptations out there, and that rabbit trail was what got me really excited about bullet journaling.
A few disclaimers before I go on though:
Most of the links to products are affiliate links, which just means that if you purchase from them, I’ll get a few pennies from the sale, at no extra cost to you. But if you don’t want to give me any pennies, look them up on Amazon anyway, because I still recommend them, whether you give me your pennies or not. 🙂
A lot of what I’ve done here has been inspired by other bullet journal lovers/bloggers/website owners, especially Kara over at Boho Berry. She’s awesome.
And finally, please, please DON’T COMPARE mine to yours to anyone else’s. So many people feel like they need to compete, and/or make it look a certain way, but the whole point is that it’s totally customizable to you. If you want simple and streamlined, awesome. If you want to decorate it all up with colors and stickers and washi tape and sketches, awesome. If you want it fancy but don’t have the time or inclination to do it by hand, awesome. That’s where things like stencils and printables come in handy. I belong to a few Facebook groups for inspiration, and there’s thread after thread filled with people worried they’re not doing it “right”. There is no right and wrong. For real. This is supposed to be fun. At a minimum, it’s supposed to be functional. If you hear nothing else, hear this: Your bullet journal is WHATEVER YOU WANT AND NEED IT TO BE.
Supplies & Getting Started
All you need to get started with bullet journaling is a notebook of some sort, and a pen or pencil. That’s it.
Some of us have turned ours into more of a… project… but you absolutely don’t have to. A notebook and a writing utensil, and you’re good to go.
The notebook I use is the Leuchtturm 1917 in the A5 size. I love, love, love this notebook. It’s pretty and sturdy and the perfect size. All of its pages are lightly gridded, so it’s easy to make nice straight lines, and keep everything nice and neat. Its pages are numbered too, which is incredibly helpful when setting up the index.
If your notebook isn’t numbered, you’ll want to number the pages before you get started, so that you’ll be able to find what you’re looking for later on.
Some other supplies that are not necessary, but might be nice to have
A selection of pens – I’m a bit of a pen hoarder collector, so I like to have a variety to match my mood/desired outcome. My favorite everyday pen is the Sharpie fine tip, and I also love the Pitt Artist Pens, and the Micron Pigma pens. They all write nice and black, don’t bleed to the other side of the page, and come in a range of tip sizes. It’s nice to be able to get those super fine lines when I want them. I also have a set of calligraphy markers that are fun for a little extra pizazz.
A good ruler – Useful for both making straight lines and helping to plan out your pages. I like this one because it’s clear, flexible, and sturdy.
A kneaded eraser – Yes, a regular eraser works just fine, but I’m so enamored with the kneaded one I use for drawing that I use it for everything. And bonus, no shavings to brush away!
Correction tape – I tried to use regular white-out when I messed up, but it always felt lumpy, it was difficult to write over, and it took forever to dry. Now I use Bic Wite-Out EZ Correction Tape, and it works much better for me.
Decorative things like washi tape, stickers, stencils, stamps – Go crazy, or skip it altogether. I think a lot of us are somewhere in between.
The Initial Set-Up
I started setting my bullet journal up in December, in preparation for the beginning of the new year. But the great thing is that you don’t have to start at the beginning of a new year! Since it’s hand-made and prepared as you go, you can start a new one 365 days a year.
As mentioned above, if your pages aren’t numbered, you’ll want to start there. Part of the genius of the bullet journal is that you put everything into a table of contents, so then you won’t be frantically flipping pages trying to find the list of books you wanted to read this year, or all your meal-planning ideas, or little Johnny’s soccer schedule. Just check the index and you’re good to go. Every time you add a new page to your journal, you’ll add it to your index:
The next thing I included was a key. I don’t use all the same exact symbols as Ryder Carroll’s system, but I use many of them:
Next, I did a year-at-a-glance. Not everyone includes this, but for me it doesn’t make sense not to be able to have an overview of the whole year, right up front.
Speaking of white-out, if you look closely, you can see that I messed up the numbering on the last full week of April, and had to white-out the whole row. Mistakes happen. 🙂
The next page I included was a Mood Tracker. I track my mood anyway because of my bipolar (I have an app on my phone), but I loved the idea of seeing it in colors this way. This was shamelessly copied/adapted from a whole bunch of examples I saw on Pinterest. I’ve seen people do mood mandalas too, and those are super cool as well. Again, this isn’t something everyone is going to want to do, but I love it. Add what you love, forget about the rest.
The last thing I included, in terms of my initial set-up, was the Future Log. I mostly use it for birthdays and events that I know about well in advance. If you want a simpler version of what I made, you can simply divide each side into six boxes (or three, if you think you’ll need more space)
Using Your Bullet Journal
The whole point of using a bullet journal is to keep you organized. I use mine to keep track of what I’ve got going on on a monthly and weekly basis, plus keep track of…. a whole bunch of other things: daily habits I want to try to do on a regular basis, books I’ve read (or want to read), blog post ideas, hikes I’ve gone on, etc. People use it to track their exercise habits or weight loss goals, to meal plan for the week or the month, places they want to visit, Netflix series they’d like to watch. Etc. Anything you can think of can become a page in your bullet journal.
One thing that I had trouble wrapping my head around when I started was how to plan out the pages. How much space did I leave for each month? Did I want to do a monthly page, then a weekly page, AND a daily page (some people use all three)? Did I want to have all my lists/collections together, and if so, how much space should I leave for them? What if I want to add something later in a place that doesn’t make any logical sense? Phew. Exhausting. (And it all brought me screaming back to my earlier opinion of “Too complicated. Too fussy.”)
But t turned out that I was single-handedly making it too complicated. I do that. Often. Yes, it took a bit of thinking/researching/looking around at other examples to figure out what I wanted to do, but once I did that I was ready to jump in. And it wasn’t nearly as daunting as I’d been making it.
I do a monthly page, and then I do weekly pages (photos to follow). The original system relies on daily pages, but I found that doing weekly pages still gave me enough room to write down all my tasks for each day, plus I was able to see and plan the whole week in one glance, a drawback I was having with the idea of doing daily pages.
I might do a page or two of weeklies in advance, but otherwise, I just build as I go. When I think of some list or something that I want to add, I just do it on the next free page, and add it to the index. It’s why we have the index in the first place! No fuss, no muss. If I know what I want to do with the next few pages, but don’t have time to do it at the moment, I just reserve them with sticky notes to mark their spot until I’m able to get to them.
Ryder Carroll’s system has you do your monthly log as a single list of dates down the side of the page, like this:
Then you’d just write whatever plans, appointments, etc you have on the corresponding date. If you want simple, this is definitely the way to go. I knew that I wanted something different for this (that would still serve the same function), so after a whole lot of looking around, playing with different ideas, and trying things out, I came up with this:
I’ve got traditional calendar boxes to write upcoming events and plans, space for a general to-do list for the month, and a habit tracker to fill out at the bottom. I put washi tape on the edge of my monthly pages so they’re even easier to find and flip to. This is what my month looks like when it is fresh and brand-new, and this is what it looks like when it’s been used and written all over:
Immediately after my monthly pages, I start my weekly pages, and those are really the heart and soul of the bullet journal (in terms of keeping me on task). All my daily to-dos, appointments, and tasks are written on the appropriate day, and it makes it really easy to see – in black and white – what I’ve got going on. Here are a couple of examples:
And finally, here are just a few of the “extra” pages I’ve done so far. They’re sort of addictive, so I know I’ll be adding more and more as I go:
Bullet journals aren’t for everyone, to be sure, but if you’re someone like me who loves putting pen to paper, loves lists and organizing or writing or doodling or planning…… DO IT. It keeps me more organized, it makes me more apt to do what I need to do, AND it allows me that meditative/creative time that I so badly need. Try it. It’ll change your life.
And maybe (hopefully?) you won’t have to wait for your third exposure like I did. 🙂
When I’m in the midst of a deep depression, or grappling with a bout of anxiety – both of which often come together – very few external things help me. I never want someone to try to help me fix it (I have a therapist for that), and it’s extremely rare that I want to talk about it, if I even can talk about it (I have a therapist for that, too). More often than not, even the best of intentions and attempts to make me feel better only serve to make me feel worse. I feel like it’s important to clarify that I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, and I don’t mean to lay blame. I blame nothing other than ignorance, inexperience, and a stigma surrounding mental health that means it’s not talked about nearly as often, or as openly, as it should be. How could anyone possibly know what to do – and what not to do – if no one’s ever told them? The irony of course is that the times I need support the most are the times when I’m least able to articulate, or even identify for myself, what may or may not be helpful. When I’m depressed, I’m not rational. I’m never “with it.” I’m not always nice.
Still, there *are* a few things that help, none more than simply being there. Not trying to fix, not judging. Just seeing me, and loving me, right where I’m at. When I asked my readers to share their own experience on my Facebook page, the response was overwhelming in its solidarity. People with depression and anxiety just want to know they are loved. While that might look slightly different for everyone, the sentiment remains the same. Far and away the most common response was some version of, “Just be there. Just love me.”
A selection of those responses, plus several others, are what follow. A few times the responses directly contradicted one another, which I loved (we’re humans, not robots). I tried to group those together. I added a bit of commentary a couple of times, but mostly let them stand on their own.
Listen – and really hear – what helps these brave individuals when they are struggling:
“Just listening and not trying to fix things. I usually just need a sounding board, not answers.” ~ Kelsey S
“Validation helps, not necessarily trying to find you a solution.” ~ Ladasha M
“When they reach out and just offer support or when they let me just “be” until I’m ready to talk. It’s super helpful when they don’t try to “fix” things. I think that helps me more than anything. Just to know that they are there for me and don’t see me as broken and unuseful.” ~ Laura L
“Letting me talk about it without offering an “answer.”” ~ Valerie S
“The most helpful thing is when a friend/loved one just sits next to me (literally or metaphorically) and says “I’m here”. No false promises that things will get better soon, no attempts to cheer me up, just sitting with me and letting me feel what I need to feel” ~ Chelsea S
“The most helpful for me is for my friends/family to just be there.” ~ Katie C
“”I’m here if you need me”. You have to truly mean it, because you might get a call in the middle of the night.” ~ Alisha T
“Nothing they really say helps because when I am in deep, I can turn anything into a negative. Just being there, never giving up on me, and loving me helps.” ~ Ashley A
“Just being listened to. Having someone just witness my experience. Believing my experience is real and not just “in my head.” ~ Patty M
“”I’m here if you need to talk.”” ~ Jay T
“Giving me some space to just be with how I’m feeling, and letting me know they’re there when I’m ready to talk.” ~ Jessica M
“Just simply saying they are here for me but also reminding me that I’m strong and brave.” ~ Kellie M
“Empathy: ‘That sounds really hard. Do you want to talk about it?'” ~ Catherine D
“It’s not anything said; it’s simply being near me. Even if the company is silent, having somebody sit with me and be willing to listen, watch a movie, or just exist for a moment makes me feel supported, more supported than any words.” ~ Reggie R
“I have anxiety and panic attacks so it’s very helpful if my family can remind me when I have a panic attack that I’m okay and that I only have to get through the next few minutes. Asking why or what I’m upset about or trying to “fix” it does not help. Also, being understanding when I need to leave the room to have a few minutes to breathe and let the anxiety wash over me.” ~ Ursula D
“Mostly just NOT saying, “What’s wrong?” There doesn’t have to be anything wrong, and there usually isn’t. Expecting me to be able to give some reason makes me feel guilty, like I have no business feeling awful when everything is going well in my life.” ~ Elizabeth S
“Being a compassionate, non-judgemental ear helps me a lot. Being able to talk it out or cry it out works for me.” ~ Michelle J
“Believing me. No second guessing, no hedging.” ~ Julia J
“The best thing ever was when I was having a bad day and I felt like I was causing so many problems for my husband. I was crying and promising him I would try harder to change. It was such a relief when he told me that I didn’t need to change, that I was fine just the way I was, and we just needed to find ways to cope. I had never felt so accepted and loved and it helped give me a solid base from which to blossom.” ~ Alicia R
A lot of people pointed to physical affection, along with physical presence:
“For me what is most helpful is when a friend is there for me letting me know they are there to listen. When they make time to just come over and be present. When they try to get me out of the house and out of my own head. Another big one for me is a hug. Hugs really help me.” ~ Tamarah C
“Holding me tightly until the storm passes- that feeling of someone seeing you at your ugliest and not running away, not trying to make it better either.” ~ Crystal M
“It’s not so much what my loved ones say, it’s what they do (and don’t do). My partner gives me massages. He does my head, neck, back, shoulders, arms, and hands. Tension melts away. My family all knows the special treats I like, so they’ll bring me truffles or a bottle of sparkling cider or spicy hot V8 or chile rellenos from my favorite restaurant. Then they leave me alone. They don’t try to talk to me unless it’s essential. They know I’ll eventually be okay, and time alone to sleep or read or snuggle my cats helps immensely.” ~ Jenny R
“”Are you having a hard day? Do you need a hug?”” ~ Naomi R
“Hugs. And not all hugs are created equal. Also, encouraging me to take a break, because I get stuck in the “I need to finish this,” mindset and have trouble seeing the solution.” ~ Rob T
“It depends on how close I am to the person. With my house humans, I definitely like hugs, back rubs, and someone just sitting quietly with me. Hugs from acquaintances… nope. A sincere compliment from anyone goes a long way, though.” ~ Joan C
For some of us, tangible, practical help with the necessities of life goes a long way:
“Cleaning or cooking. Taking over administrative household things would be a tremendous help.” ~ Renee M
“When someone notices I’m down or very anxious and instead of asking me what’s wrong they simply do something kind. Another question to ask instead of “what’s wrong” is “What can I do for you?” Or “What do you need right now?” I don’t really get asked these but wish I do more often as they are the most helpful words at the time.” ~ Rebecca B
“Taking something off my plate or doing something kind for me helps a lot.” ~ V Sue H
“What can I do to help out? What can I take off your plate for you? What would make you feel better that I could do for you. Feeling overburdened (by my own rules and expectations, mostly) was a huge part of my depression and anxiety.” ~ Sue S
“When they ask me what they can do to help. That’s the best help. Instead of assuming what I need, it’s nice for them to ask.” ~ Stephanie J
“Dear Lord, not the open ended, “How can I help?” That question is so overwhelming to me when I’m depressed. “Can I do X for you?” is much more helpful. Trust me, if an alternative is better, I’ll let you know.” Mariellen M. I could really relate to this, and it took me a long time to realize it. I’d often just wonder what the heck is wrong with me. (That’s something I wonder a lot, especially when I’m depressed.) Here I have this well-meaning, loving friend who wants to help me, and the offer only makes me more frustrated. It’s not because I don’t appreciate it, and it’s (usually) not that I don’t want help. It’s that I DON’T KNOW what kind of help I need. The question feels overwhelming and impossible to answer. A specific offer would be much easier to respond to. I still might decline it!, but it’s far more likely to help.
“I would say whatever they think would help me out, just do it. When I’m overwhelmed by depression and anxiety, someone asking me a question is incredibly stressful. But if they just go ahead and hug me, call me, clean something, etc, it’s definitely appreciated.” ~ Issa W
“Can I bring you a cup of soup or a Coke? Or can I watch the kids for you for an hour or two? Just these simple things remind me that I can get through the darkness and I am not alone.” ~ Jennifer E
“Would you like to have a cup of tea with me?” It just helps to fill the empty hours more pleasantly.” ~ Margaret B
“Basically treat me like I have stomach flu! I’m sick at the moment, let me act like it, and treat me like it. Tuck me in and bring me tea. The show of understanding and love will give me the strength to rise up.” ~ Seana R
“Not trying to whisk me away to my bedroom for alone time, and then taking over all the household things with the family. That would be helpful. I like knowing I can be present and included even if I am depressed. I don’t need to be quarantined.” ~ Shelly C
And sometimes, what we need is a little bit of gentle pressure from the right person:
“Want to take a walk? No? I’d like to take you for a walk. I know it helps.” ~ Heather Y
“”Have you taken a shower today? Text me after you get out of the shower.”” ~ Roya D. Self care, even something as seemingly simple as a shower, can be incredibly hard when you’re depressed. Gentle encouragement from a trusted friend can go a long way.
“Make me food. Offer to get me out of the house. Gently ask if I’ve showered/eaten something/taken my medication/stepped outside.” ~ Idzie D
“My husband helps me by giving me alone time or encouraging me to go to yoga. I often give up yoga when I’m overwhelmed, and it’s one of the things that helps me the most. He also gently helps me get to bed, as sleep always helps. He just kind of takes over and says, “Why don’t you get in bed and I”ll put the kids to bed.” No judgement.” ~ Audrey B
One of the biggest reasons that I continue to write about this is that it has helped me SO MUCH to hear from others who get it. Commiseration from someone who’s been there is a powerful thing, and I’m not alone in that belief:
“When I went through a four-year struggle with depression and anxiety, what helped me the most was 1) knowing other people had been there. I loved it when people were willing to share their experiences. 2) Learning to seize the day. That is, I had to learn to live life to the fullest. I had to learn to do things I enjoy.” ~ Kandy C
“Personally, hearing someone say, “I’ve struggled with that too” has helped me the most. That hardly EVER comes from my spouse or family. It has to come from someone outside my current situation like a close friend.” ~ Mandi P
Depression is an incredibly isolating illness. It’s about us, and no one else, so it’s important not to take it personally. Here are just a couple of examples:
“Not take it personally and keep getting angry because I won’t say what exactly is wrong. Most of the time I don’t even know what’s wrong, but everyone is so quick to think I’m upset with them” ~ Kelly J
“Don’t take it personally when I cancel plans to go out at the last minute”. ~ Jenica M
One of the things that helped me a lot when I first started talking about this was simple honesty.
“”I don’t even know what to say right now, I’m just glad you told me.”” ~ Jessika B
And finally, when all else fails, there is this:
“Saying that no matter what, you love me.” ~ Rebecca R
46 different people in different places, with different struggles, and different stories. But one common plea that unites us all:
I had music blasting on my little bluetooth speaker, because I’d been working on building a new playlist, and wanted to listen to it while I picked up the table. Paxton, who’s 16 and a talented musician who’s been instrumental (ha, see what I did there?) in helping me discover new bands to listen to, came into the room just as the husband had picked up the ukelele and started to strum along to the music when a new song came on.
“Paxton! This is the Best. Song. Ever” I told him. “See if you can play it.”
He grabbed my acoustic guitar from its stand in the corner – where it lives, sadly, mostly untouched by me – and quickly picked up the chorus of the Best Song Ever. I cranked the volume even further, and he continued to play while Tegan (who’s 8 and never misses an opportunity for a dance party) grabbed my hands and twirled me, laughing, around the room. Everett (12 going on 17) heard the commotion and eventually joined us, curling up on the couch next to the cat. The bond he has with that cat gives me serious relationship goals. Not just pet relationship goals, but relationship goals in general.
The song ended and the next one began… but no one really noticed. Everett kept petting the cat, and Tegan kept dancing, and Paxton kept playing, challenging himself to play along by ear with even the most unfamiliar songs.
At some point, Spencer (19) came into the room and announced, “It’s so nice having socks.” We all stopped and looked at him. If you know Spencer, you know he’s the king of the non-sequitur, but that was random, even for him. And then I realized he was wearing new socks that he’d gotten for Christmas…. which is the goofiest, most cliche Christmas present ever, except he needed them and wanted them and asked for them. And in that moment, he appreciated them, and his comment wasn’t so strange after all.He laughed at the way it had sounded, and we went back to dancing, and singing, and playing.
So is that what it looks like after dinner every night in our house? Well, no, but it’s not unusual for us either. And I share it today for one simple reason: I want you to know, dear-reader-who’s-stressing-out-about-the-teenage-years, that having teens is really freaking FUN.
I always hesitate to pick a “favorite” age, because they’ve all been wonderful. Seriously. But I think I enjoy them more and more as the years pass. I enjoy the snuggly baby years (but then there’s that whole getting no sleep thing), and I enjoy the sweet, exploring toddler years (but then there’s that whole frustration on both of our parts as they learn about and test their budding independence thing), and I enjoy the young childhood years (and really have no disclaimer for that). But the teen years… I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated being a parent more than I do right now.
Teens are funny and intelligent and interesting creatures.
Just a few of the many, many reasons I’m enjoying my boys more than ever:
They make me laugh. We laugh around the dinner table a LOT. Not politely chuckle, but LAUGH, with full-on snorts and tears and gasps for air.
They make me think. All three boys have their own ideas and opinions about religion, and about politics. They have their own unique views about the world around them. I genuinely feel privileged to get to talk to them about it, to learn from them, to think about things in a new light and in a new way, and to learn to appreciate the world from an angle other than my own.
They inspire me. If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you likely know about the journey I’ve been on to discover who I am, and what it means to be my own authentic self, not worrying about what others think of me. But my boys? They already have that, in spades. They know who they are, and they have more integrity than I’ve seen in many adults. This year I got to witness one of my boys carrying something incredibly difficult, and he carried it with so much grace. It was something that a child never should have shouldered on his own, but something he carried in part to protect me…. and it was poignant and painful and I wish that he hadn’t had to do it. But it showed me – in a way I hadn’t seen before – how much maturity and class that he possessed. Light years ahead of where I was at that age. Light years ahead of where I am at my current age.
They are great friends and companions. The popular opinion in current parenting lore is that you should avoid being friends with your teens at all cost. But I think that that’s bunk. Teens make the best friends! I love to hike with them, to talk with them, to laugh with them, to share my life with them. I think that if you’re not friends with your teens you are seriously missing out on something great.
They are interesting conversationalists. To be clear, I enjoy talking to my kids when they are younger too, but there’s just something really cool about the mature conversations you get to have with teens. Not only can you talk about shared interests like TV shows and books and movies and music, but you can talk about the sticky things like politics and religion. You can talk about life and relationships and the thrill of a first love and the betrayal of a false friend. You can talk about hopes and dreams and disappointments in a way that you just can’t do when they’re younger. You can talk about Donald Trump, and about news around the globe. I love hearing my boys’ unique take on current events and all the goings on in their lives and in the world around us.
They still need me. One of the interesting thing about teens is that while they are often independent adults… sometimes they still just need mom. They come to me with their problems, they share with me honestly, they get me in the middle of the night when they’re sick. They ask for advice for everything from blisters to broken hearts to ingrown toenails. They’re six feet tall and fearlessly forging their own paths…. but I still get to be mom.
Even so,
They’re independent. There’s a whole new dynamic in the house once you have teens. They cook for themselves. They pick up after themselves (sometimes usually). They do their own troubleshooting. They largely keep track of their own life. Just by virtue of their age and ability there is a different give and take in the relationship that didn’t exist when they were younger and required more direct care. I bring them fresh-baked cookies when they’re at their computers (unless they’ve made them themselves, something that Everett excels at), and they bring me coffee when my cup is empty.
But wait, are there ever bumps in the road? OF COURSE. They’re still humans, still doing the human thing. The reality is that being a teen is hard sometimes, that there are inevitably going to be growing pains, and that sooner or later there are going to be problems to solve and hiccups to be worked through.
Relationships – of any kind – require care and attention, and relationships with your teens are no exception. But it is NOT a foregone conclusion that when you have teens that they are going to be sullen and angry and rebellious. A good relationship with your teens is very possible.
It’s not quite raining, but the sky is dark and the air is heavy with the dampness that comes right before the clouds open up. It’s not exactly morning anymore, but it’s not quite noon, which absolutely qualifies as far as I’m concerned. Three of the four kids are sleeping, and the only sound I hear is the clicking of my laptop keys. I’m drinking industrial strength coffee – one cup of regular coffee, three shots of espresso. It just felt right today – and I’m eating a snickerdoodle fresh from the oven, made at the extraordinarily talented hands of my 12 year old.
And I’m completely, and profoundly, sad.
I am not watching the inauguration, and I am doing my best to stay away from Facebook, but it’s still out there. It’s still real. It’s still happening, whether I’m okay with it or not.
And I’m sad.
I’m sad for my fellow women, for our immigrants, for people of color, for people of the LGBTQ community, for people who are poor, for people who are differently abled.
I’m sad for the people who have legitimate concerns about the future of their healthcare and of their access to needed medications and procedures.
I’m sad for the people who worry about the future of the legality of their marriage.
I’m sad for the parents who will live in fear of their transgender child not being safe at school.
I’m sad because so many of my fellow Christians seem to have mistaken Mark 12:31 (look it up) to mean: “Love your neighbor as long as he is a conservative Republican like you.” Over this past election season, I have felt many, many things from Trump’s Christian supporters. I have felt disdain, I have felt hate, I have felt mocking. But love? No, love’s not something I’ve felt.
I’m sad because I see gloating. Not humble acceptance, but honest to God gloating, even while people mourn.
I’m sad because your cheers today seek to erase the very real experiences of the people who are genuinely afraid of what this presidency is going to mean for them. People are legitimately afraid, and I can’t help but think if you understood that – if you really, truly let yourself understand it – that you wouldn’t be so quick to celebrate.
I’m sad because today you are celebrating a man who bragged about sexual assault… sexual assault that you so eagerly dismissed as “locker room talk.”
I’m sad because today you are celebrating a man who has spent the last several weeks feeling as though his time would be best spent not graciously accepting his win, or preparing for the very real job ahead, but behaving like a petulant toddler on Twitter.
I’m sad about the hypocrisy it takes to call people whiners and cry-babies for exercising their right to peacefully protest, in essence giving the finger to the very Constitution that you claim to so deeply want to uphold.
I’m sad because people keep wanting to tell me – and people like me – to sit down and shut up. Don’t whine. Don’t complain. Don’t FEEL.
I’m sad because people keep wanting to tell me – and people like me – not to stand with those who are suffering. Not to advocate for the rights of others. Not to peacefully protest that which we do not believe to be right, and true, and good.
I’m sad because the very same people who mightily complained about, mocked, and disparaged President Obama for eight years are now telling us to “accept it.” To be respectful. To support our new president.
I’m sad because people are telling me to deny the sadness. People are telling me to just think positively. To just be kind, to just adjust my attitude, to just love.
Sure.
Yes.
But not today. Not when so many are grieving. Not when so many people have actual cause to grieve.
The earth will keep spinning, to be sure (although what that is going to look like for many Americans is very much up for debate), and tomorrow I’m going to get up, and I’m going to put two feet on the floor, and I’m going to go about the business of living my life.
In a perfect world this was supposed to have been posted last week… you know, when it was actually still 2016. But it wasn’t, because I was trapped under something heavy and couldn’t get to my laptop was busy eating and watching movies and marathoning It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
I feel like my limited vocabulary doesn’t contain the necessary words to describe 2016 in all of its… all of its… see, I don’t even know the word. It’s been a painful year. Not just for me, but for lots of people. And sure, there has been progress and personal growth and all that touchy feely stuff that makes me so uncomfortable, but still. IT’S BEEN A YEAR.
So I’m thrilled, and happy, and hopeful to put to 2016 behind me, and to move onto bigger and better things in 2017. Before I do though, one last look at 2016, blog-wise.
Here are my top ten most read posts last year, from least to most amount of views.
10. The One About The Boobies – I’m happy that this one made the list, and I’m glad that Kaitlyn Juvik so openly protested when she was treated unfairly. This is a conversation that needs to be happening.
9. Yes, I’m Upset, and No, I Won’t Shut Up – I’m not super excited that Donald Trump is going to be sworn in soon (especially when he is still tweeting stuff like this), but this is reality. And at the moment, this is just what had to be said.
8. When You Can’t Walk Into Their Room Without Tripping – Some kinder alternatives to the viral photo that was going around at the time, encouraging parents to bag up your children’s things and then make them pay you $25 a bag to get them back.
7. My Summer To-Do List For My Kids (And Myself) – This was just an antidote to all the rigid, hyper-scheduled, micromanaged to-do lists I was starting to see crop up as kids headed into summer (which is supposed to be a break.)
6. I Could Have Been The Disney Mom – Every time a family’s tragedy becomes public, my heart breaks for the parents… first because of what happened, and second because of the public lynching they inevitably receive. I try to remind myself that no one is immune, and we are ALL those parents.
3. Humiliation Isn’t Funny – So, it’s something I talk about a lot on my blog, but it’s truly difficult not to, when SO MUCH of what we see, hear, and are bombarded with as parents is the message that kids need more punishment. That they need to be treated as lesser than. That they are somehow less deserving of kindness. Well, I believe that kids need more compassion, and more respect, and that is a hill I will stand on all day long.
2. I’m Not The Meanest Mom – Something that I noticed several years ago – and am noticing again as I get to these top two posts – is that you guys always respond in a big way when I write rebuttals (except I don’t really like the word rebuttal. Alternatives. When I write about alternatives). I always have mixed feelings about writing them, mainly because I have trouble with the negative attention, but I still think they need to be written. So I’ll still continue writing them. There is ALWAYS a kinder, gentler alternative
Happy New Year my friends. Thanks as always for reading my words, and sharing my words, and for being overall awesome. I appreciate you all more than I can say. xo
*Fair warning: The end of the year always makes me crazy introspective, even under the best of circumstances.*
I went to an open mic night a couple weeks ago. We’ve been checking them out for Paxton (16 at the time of this writing), because he’s looking for local places to play his music. This one place we went, at an old church-turned-theater downtown, was really interesting. And I don’t mean “interesting” as a polite yet sarcastic way of saying it blew. I mean it really was interesting. All ages. All walks of life. All kinds of talents. There were poems and music, originals and covers. There was a little boy who sang a Bruno Mars song. There was a young woman who performed a rap that she’d written for a friend who’d died by suicide. There was a 75 year old comedian who I didn’t find particularly funny but respected like crazy for getting up there and doing his thing. There was a young girl who forgot the lyrics to her song, got swept up in her nerves, and stood there frozen and crying until two of her friends jumped onstage to help her finish. There was a room full of people giving nothing but massive amounts of love and support and encouragement for their fellow artists.
And the whole thing made my fragile little creative heart break and swell at the same exact time.
It was just like …. life. This being-a-human thing is so complex. The heartbreaking and the beautiful. The deepest of sorrow and the sweetest of elation. All captured and bottled and either tentatively eked out bit by bit, or forced out through a cataclysmic explosion. While friends stand by offering hugs, and encouragement, and “If you’re having trouble finishing your song, then dammit, I’m coming onto that stage and holding you up and singing for you until you’ve regained your own voice.”
Too. Many. Feelings.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who regularly reads my blog, but I’ve had a hard year. I’ve actually had one of the hardest years of my life. And it was one of those years where just when I thought I had some forward momentum going, something or someone else would completely kick out my footing, and I’d be once again scrambling for air. Hope. Despair. Serenity. Anguish. I don’t think I’ve left a single emotion untouched in 2016.
And now there are 10 days left in the year, and I’m reviewing, and I’m reflecting, and… I wanna say breathing, but really I’m gulping… and remembering. My heart wants to make a list of the big lessons I’ve learned this year (and I still just might) but my brain tells me there may be bandwidth issues if I even try. I’ve learned a lifetime’s worth of painful, messy truths about myself and my life and why I work the way I work. But no one wants to hear that. Besides, while personal growth sounds all nice and everything, my final takeaway from 2016 is much more simple yet more profound:
I’m still here.
Still running. Still trying. Still fighting. Still loving.
I was here to see the 12 year old score his first touchdown. I was here to see the 8 year old play Alice in Alice in Wonderland. I was here to see the 16 year old sing his first solo song on stage. I was here. And more than that, I am glad I was here.
I’m glad I’m here… right here, right now. (And if you are reading this, wherever and whoever you are, I’m glad you’re here too.)
2016 didn’t take us down. We’re still here. And given the alternative, that’s a whole hell of a lot to be thankful for as we round out the year.
A cake pop I brought home to surprise Tegan. It’s so easy to care for someone else.
Did you ever notice how you have to learn the same damn lessons over and over before they stick? (Unless that’s just me?) You know in your heart that something is true, and right, and sensible… but there’s a disconnect somewhere in between your heart and your brain, and you can’t seem to make yourself do or practice or even believe that which you know is true. Then, when things start to go haywire – and they will go haywire, when you’re ignoring a vital piece of your well-being – you remember. And you go, “Oh yeah, I learned this once before. Maybe this time it’ll last.” But no. You’re stubborn. And busy. And stubborn some more. And before you know it you’re once again off the rails and the lesson comes screeching back to remind you.
Repeat 12,000 times. It’s exhausting.
For me, the area in which this most applies, BY FAR, is the idea of self-care. In fact I get a little cringey at the thought of self-care, particularly the idea of self-love. It just sounds so touchy feely and woo-woo and kind of makes me think of naked people hugging around some sort of goddess-worshiping sun circle. (*Disclaimer: I am not judging. More power to you if that’s your sort of thing. It just doesn’t happen to be mine*) It makes me feel uncomfortable and icky. Plus, as a mom, there’s the whole issue of balance. And guilt. And “Do I really want/deserve/have time for self-care, when I could be doing something for my kids? Or my house… Or my husband…” Really paying attention to self-care, and self-compassion (seriously, I even have trouble using the word, “love” in there) means prioritizing. It means deliberately choosing to take time away from something or someone else, in order to invest it in yourself. It’s hard. And it’s conflicting.
And it is so. freaking. important.
I hear moms all the time saying that they’d love to take up this hobby, or read this book, or pursue this craft, but that they don’t have time. That their KIDS are their hobby. Their kids are their passion. Their kids are their life. They don’t have time for anything else. I know because it’s what I’ve done. It’s what I do, even when I swear that I’m going to be better about it.
But you know what? I really am a better person – a healthier person, a stronger person, a more contented person – when I take time for myself. By extension, I’m a better mother too. A better wife. A better friend. I know this. I know this.
So why do I keep having to learn the same lesson over and over?
I’ve been depressed lately, and the approaching holidays (and all the trappings they bring) don’t help with that. Self-care – or any kind of care, if I’m being honest – has once again slid by the wayside. And I’m beating myself up because the laundry is piled up, the house needs cleaning, there are presents to wrap, there are cookies to make. So much to do and so little time, and I’m going to add more to my plate by doing something for myself?? I find myself constantly conflicted between giving myself the rest I so desperately need, and tackling the next Very Important Thing on my to-do list. The dissonance makes me immobilized, and the immobilization makes me sit there, hovering, right in the middle…. not doing anything to take care of myself, and not getting anything productive done either. I’m stuck. And guilty. And burnt out.
And again, I find myself having to confront the icky love stuff. The thing I can dole out in spades to my children … but not so much to myself.
I’m working on it. I have to work on it. It’s not optional. I’ve seen firsthand what it does – not just to me, but to everything around me – when I make it an afterthought. It isn’t pretty; it’s really not. My mental health suffers. My physical health suffers. My relationships suffer.
So I’ll deal with the discomfort of whatever it is that makes me balk so much at the very words, “self-love”. I’ll face all the yuck of my past that makes me think I’m not worthy. I’ll work through my issues of perfectionism and guilt and black-and-white thinking that make me think things have to be done to a certain standard or the whole world order will collapse. I’ll give myself the care that I deserve – and good grief, that I NEED – and not feel guilty about what I have to say no to in order to make it happen.
(Well, maybe just a little guilty. I’m a messy work in progress.)
My too-often ignored reminders on my dusty mirror with my unmade bed in the background.
It is now four o’clock in the afternoon. I’ve been home for about an hour. There’s unfolded laundry beside me. There are stains to be scrubbed out of the carpet. I need to vacuum. There are emails to answer, and bills to be paid. I need to make a list of cookie ingredients so I can go to the store. I still have to plan a menu for Christmas day. I need to finish shopping for stocking stuffers. There are packages to go in the mail. The bathrooms haven’t been cleaned in…. too long. And have I mentioned the laundry?? Holy hell, the laundry.
But it’s okay. IT’S OKAY. It really is. And I’ll sit. And I’ll write, and I’ll drink my tea and eat my candy cane, and I’ll breathe, and I’ll know that I’m not doing nothing, but rather doing something… for me. And once I’ve done something for me, and filled up my own cup (another phrase that gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies but I’m going to use anyway), I’ll know that it’ll be easier to commit myself fully to whatever task I decide to tackle next. Full attention on me. Full attention on the next thing. And so on. Non-negotiable from here on out. And I’ll resist and I’ll whine and I’ll grumble… and I’ll lean into it all and trust that eventually I’ll get it. Eventually it won’t be so hard.
Because I really am worth it. I really do kick ass.
And sooner or later I want to be able to say the words, “Yes, I DO practice self-love”, and no longer wince when I say it.
I'm Jen... the shy, lost girl from the east coast who married at nineteen and eventually found herself - four kids later - in the middle of the desert. I like chocolate. You can read more about me here.
A ridiculous amount of coffee is consumed in the process of writing these blog posts. If you enjoy my work, I'd be extremely grateful if you added some fuel to keep me going!
