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12 things I don’t do as a parent

August 19, 2014 by Jana 46 Comments

This week’s confessions are inspired by this post from Babble and this post from Amber at Airing My Dirty Laundry.

I will most likely never win Mother of the Year.

Here’s a small sample of why.

I lose my temper, I feed my daughter Chick Fil A probably more than I should, I’ve been known to curse in front of her, and occasionally, I’ll tell her to talk to Siri when I want to stop answering her incessant and endless questions. I admit to looking forward to a few hours silence when she has cheer practice or school or a play date and I definitely will run errands in the evening and pretend it’s a vacation.

I’m not even remotely ashamed. In fact, I’ve written a whole post confessing that some things I do might make me a terrible parent.

Consider these confessions a balance to those. Or maybe not a balance but an accompaniment. Depends on how you want to look at it. I think there might even be an overlap or two.

That’s fine.

Let’s get to it. As a parent, I don’t:

Have a panic attack if she gets hurt. Cuts, bruises, scrapes and their ilk are all part of childhood. Not every injury is cause for a freak out session and if I’m panicking, how can I expect her to calm down? Right. I can’t. So I stay calm and put a band aid on it. She’ll heal.
Lose my shit if she stains her clothes or gets too dirty. Like getting hurt, it’s a part of childhood. Kids are messy, filthy little things and my child is no exception. Watching her eat certain foods is revolting, and it’s no wonder her clothes eat, too. I also don’t buy her such expensive clothes that if they get a stain, it’s worth getting angry. I just throw some Shout on it and move along.
Let her win. Losing is a part of life and she needs to learn to do that graciously, too. It’s all part of good sportsmanship, especially now that she’s older and needs to learn those lessons. Lest you think I am a heartless bitch of a mother rather than just a terrible one, there are plenty of times she legit kicks my ass. I am seriously overmatched in Birthday Party Monopoly.
Play Barbies. Or have tea parties or play dress up or create elaborate scavenger hunts or do a whole lot of playing in general. I’ll do crafts, play board games, take her places, and once, I let her give me a makeover. But I am not a get on the floor, play Barbies kind of mom. I did it once and it was terrible. I don’t care to do it again.
Watch everything she does. If I spent my days responding to all the “Mom, watch this!” shouts, I’d get even less done. Which is hard to imagine. But I can’t stop my life every time she wants to show me how she can spin in a circle or do a cartwheel. I know that shit. I’ve seen it eleventy billion times. I watch the important stuff. But sometimes I just have to say no to the little stuff.
Give her control of the radio in the car. Or the TV in the living room. We all live in this house. We all drive in the car. She is not the only one, and quite frankly, most of her taste in entertainment sucks a fat one. She has a few gems (seriously, iCarly is freaking funny) but for the most part, it’s all terrible. It’s hurts my ears, eyes, and soul to watch or listen to it. So I make her share. She needs to be more well rounded anyway.
Keep an immaculate house. I’ve confessed all my dirty housekeeping secrets before but it bears repeating. And while we’re at it, my house doesn’t look Pinterest worthy. Or even ready for company. But it’s comfortable and clean enough and I’d rather spend time and money on trips, days at the beach, and making memories than cleaning. Having a clean, perfect house is not a priority and quite frankly, it is too damn stressful. Plus I have a kid and pets and a husband and cleaning up after them is about as sensical as shredding cheese with a nail file.
Wait on her, hand and foot. Last time I checked, she wasn’t royalty and I wasn’t hired help. As such, she can clean up after herself, put her laundry away, get her own snacks and drinks, and do chores. Without being bribed.
Like all of her friends. Have you met some people’s kids? Yes? Then you know that some of them are huge assholes. I cringe when my child is friends with one of those kids, and I cringe even more when she hangs out with them. The thing is this, though. They’re not my friends. I don’t have to like them. And I will tolerate them. Until they do something I can’t tolerate. Then the gloves come off (not literally. I will simply forbid my kid from seeing whenever possible).
Live vicariously through her. This is her childhood, not mine. It is not my place to force her to make up for all my shortcomings or unfulfilled dreams and wishes. It would be wrong for me to do that, and would take away all of her independence and ability to make her own choices. She needs to figure out for herself what she likes and doesn’t like.
Think she’s perfect. I am the first one to admit that my child fucks up. She cops an attitude, she doesn’t listen, she makes mistakes, and things are sometimes her fault. She is not free from blame during fights with friends, she messes up in school, and she’s not always the superstar. Does she do the best she can? Most of the time. Is she amazing in her own way? Absolutely. But is she perfect? Nope.
Call her my BFF. Remember when Steph wrote about how she didn’t marry her best friend? Well, I didn’t give birth to mine. I am her mother and that trumps being her friend. It is a role that needs no other definition. Quite frankly, it creeps me out when a parent says her school aged child is her BFF. Really?! That can’t possibly be healthy. I love my daughter and would do anything for her. Except call her my best friend. Because in addition to the creepy dynamic, it puts way too much pressure on her. Which isn’t fair.

And now you know all my dirty parenting secrets.

My parenting style isn’t for everyone and it certainly isn’t trendy. But my kid knows that she’s loved, safe, and well cared for.

And it works for me.

So I’m clearly doing something right.

Linking up with Kathy and Liz

5 reasons to enjoy Mondays

August 18, 2014 by Jana 12 Comments

In an effort to rewire the way I approach parts of my life, and taking a cue from some of the suggestions in my cousin’s book, I have decided to stop hating Mondays. Well, fine, if I’m being honest, I don’t know that it’s entirely possible to fully stop hating Monday, but I’m also choosing to think about the parts of Monday that don’t suck.

It’s not a perfect system but it seems to be working thus far.

I’ll also admit that at first, I struggled with coming up with what I enjoy about Mondays since it’s so ingrained not to like the day but as I sat and contemplated, and started writing a few ideas down, the rest followed fairly quickly.

Here are my top 5.

It’s back to a routine. Because of my anxiety issues, I function better with a schedule. I’m not a very spontaneous person, I never have been, and I like my routines. Weekends throw those all off, especially when cheer is involved. With the return of Monday, I can fall back into my regularly scheduled programming and it comforts me. I feel relieved. I can get shit done.
It’s a time to reflect on the fruits of my weekend labor. For instance, I try to do as much cleaning and laundry and cooking as possible on the weekends since the weekdays don’t leave tons of room for those necessary activities. When Monday rolls around and I don’t have to do them, I can fully appreciate taking and making the time on the weekend to do it.
It’s a reset for my weekly goals. Every Sunday night, I sit down and process how I did on my goals from the week before. If there were a couple I didn’t rock, Monday means a fresh start and a chance to work even harder to accomplish them. It also means I establishing new goals for the upcoming week, which is always great and keeps me focused.
It’s less time to things I look forward to. Like new episodes of Sons of Anarchy. Or my mastermind calls. Or payday. And, although I don’t watch it, Monday Night Football, because my husband does watch it and it’s a chance to all asleep before he even gets in bed. Or thinks about getting in bed.
It’s a chance to rejoin the world. Since we spend so much time on football fields and in gyms on the weekends, or traveling to visit family, I don’t get much time to check in with friends and blogs or social media or even the news that CNN doesn’t deliver to my phone in headline form. When Monday rolls around, it’s a chance to catch up and get reconnected.

I will say this: it is easier for me to love Mondays since I left a job that was poisoning me. Make no mistake, I had a great boss and coworkers, had lots of autonomy, and didn’t have a huge commute. I was grateful for the employment. However. The subject matter became unbearable and I simply couldn’t do it anymore. And I’d rather live on a tight budget than have a toxic job.

Putting this positive spin on Mondays has definitely adjusted my attitude and my thinking towards the day and rather than dreading it, I now embrace it.

Which is kind of weird.

But I like it.

Book review: Building Blocks of a Better Attitude

August 14, 2014 by Jana 5 Comments

You know how there’s that one person in your life, an older sibling or cousin, who always just seemed so cool and you kind of wanted to do what they did but you didn’t think it’d be as cool if you did it? For me, that person is my cousin Dave. He’s 5 years older than me and he probably didn’t know that I looked up to him when we were kids (he knows now because, well, he’s reading this). And now that we’re adults, Dave still does things that are different and cool and I’m pretty sure I’d be ridiculous if I tried them (seriously, picture me trying to give away free hugs at a concert. It doesn’t work, does it?).

I can’t remember exactly how it came about, but earlier this year, Dave emailed me asking if I wanted to listen to some of his hypnosis recordings (oh, have I mentioned he’s a certified hypnotherapist and life coach and NLP provider? Cool, right?). I’ve always been skeptical about hypnosis, mostly as a result of the image it gets in pop culture but my grandmother used hypnosis to quit smoking roughly 30 years ago and besides, what did I have to lose? Nothing but time and I have plenty of that to spare. So I said sure and I listened to the recordings, and you know what? They’re quite good.

I felt a little silly at first but the more I listened, the more I could feel what he said setting in. And it made sense! And I totally do not do weird things when people snap their fingers or say certain words. Dave’s recordings focus more on changing your thoughts and your words and he does that by putting you in a situation where you can be receptive rather than resistant to those ideas. And you can do it at home, too.

I liked what I gleaned from his recordings so when he approached me about reading his book, of course I said yes. Because I am a skeptic by nature and honestly, sometimes this stuff gets a little too new age/hippy for me, I didn’t know what to expect when I read it. But I have noticed a huge difference in Dave over the last few years and if he was saying this is the method he used to change, I was willing to put my skepticism aside, much like I did with the hypnosis.

I’m glad I did. His eBook, Building Blocks of a Better Attitude, is a short, jam packed with information book that will make you truly think about your words, your reactions, your thoughts, and how they are all interconnected. I honestly never gave any thought to the choice of words I use and how they impact my attitude and approach towards….well, pretty much everything. He gives you easy to use techniques for reshaping and reframing ideas, feeling, thoughts, and words. And reading this in conjunction with the recordings puts it on a completely different level. Because when you read, you can hear his voice in the words on the page, and it makes it that much more impactful.

Also included in the book are simple exercises to do to put what he’s teaching into practice (I think a workbook would go perfectly with this book, to reinforce the exercises even more) as well as a host of resources for further self-improvement. I’ve read part of one (the library wanted it back before I had a chance to finish), The Four Agreements, and it is a good, albeit dense, read, so I’m sure the others are just as plentiful. And that’s something to consider; these books are short but chock full of information. You need to read them more than once to let the lessons sink in. Fortunately, just like the title advertises, they are blocks and each one builds on the previous ones so taking them one at a time is possible and doesn’t devalue the lessons.

A final note: I think what, more than anything, resonates with me about Dave’s approach to shaping a better attitude is the focus on personal responsibility. He emphasizes that changing your thoughts and feelings comes from you. No one else. You can change your response to every situation, regardless of what it is, and that will in turn affect you. It is not about the external factors, it is about the internal ones (Note: if you have a mental illness, seek professional help. These resources can help, and maybe they are all you need, but maybe not. There is no shame in traditional therapy or meds and if that is what you need, then obtain that help).

Now that I have been exposed to this method of hypnosis and the systems outlined in Dave’s book, I will definitely continue to explore them. Traditional therapy did not work for me and I still have some major self-esteem issues to improve on. And thankfully there are tons of resources, including those in Dave’s store (if you’re so inclined, check it out and if you want to purchase anything use code jana15 for a 15% discount on anything in the store. This is not an affiliate link and I would not be sharing it if I didn’t think it had value), that can help me.

I’m interested in self improvement and this is a great place to start. Even if it seems a little weird.

How about you guys? Have you ever tried hypnosis or anything like my cousin suggests? Did it work?

Confessions of a reluctant cheer mom

August 13, 2014 by Jana 34 Comments

Confession time. My daughter? Is a cheerleader.

Take a moment and let that sink in. Especially if you’ve been a longtime (or longish time) reader. Because you know that I’m not about pep and team spirit or even wearing skirts. Glitter I can handle. The rest, though? Not so much.

But approximately 2 years ago, when we were offering her choices for activities, she said no to all of them. Every. Last. One. And then, out of the blue, she says she wants to cheer. Naturally I was confused as fuck because really? Cheerleading? How on earth did that come up and more specifically, where did she get the idea? Certainly not from me. Or her father. I wanted to say no because what. The. Hell. How can I, of all people, raise a cheerleader. But I love my kid more than I love my stereotypes so I tried to be open minded and signed her up for the introductory classes at the Y and she loved it and showed an aptitude and now, here we are, parents of a competitive cheerleader.

It’s truly not something I ever thought I’d be. And throughout her first year, I didn’t warm up to it quickly. At all. There were some external reasons I won’t get into but some of it did come from me. But the more we got into it, the more I gave in. And now? You guessed it. I’m a cheer mom.

And I am learning things I never thought I’d learn. Like cheerleading vernacular. Yup. It’s its own thing. Herky and high V and liberty and basket toss and teddy bear and pike jump and all the other words that are now tossed around like a flyer at my house (see what I did there? Flyer? Cheer humor at its finest). While I’m still learning some of the vocabulary, I’m now mostly fluent in cheer. We can put that in the “never thought that’d happen” bucket.

You know what else I know now? How to do cheer hair, which, incidentally, is its own thing (I also know where to buy cheer hair. So if you ever need it, just ask). I was unaware of this and, now that I am, I have a clear understanding of how the hairspray industry stays afloat. Competitive cheerleaders. My daughter used more hairspray during her first season of competition cheer than I have in 37 years of life. And I lived through the 80s and early 90s. That’s a lot of hairspray, folks.

I can totally see my daughter saying this to someone one day.

As if that’s not enough, I now find myself encouraging her cheering. I look for cheer quotes and crafts on Pinterest. I buy her clothes with cheer stuff on them. I’ve talked to the other moms about buying specifically designed cheer mom t-shirts (and if we can’t get those, I plan to buy the sparkliest shirt I can find). I have opinions on the routines and I make her practice at home. I even find myself volunteering (okay, fine, I’m going to my first volunteer meeting tonight). When my daughter got kicked in the face by her flyer the other night at practice, I told her I was proud that she got her first injury (I have never admitted that I will win mother of the year). But the bottom line is that I’ve become immersed in cheer because I’d be a shitty parent if I didn’t. I love my kid and I support her, even if, deep down in place I don’t talk about at parties, I still don’t get it.

But despite the fact that I don’t get it, I need to say this: I now realize that cheerleaders truly are athletes who deserve respect rather than mockery. They train and condition their bodies and do shit that really shouldn’t be humanly possible. Even at a young age, they’re lifting their flyers, doing basket tosses, tumbling, jumping, spraining, bruising, and hurting themselves all for the sake of being the best. Cheerleading isn’t just bows, sparkly makeup, and silly chants at football games (and it’s certainly not the crap you see at NFL and NBA games. That shit is simply ridiculous). It’s physically demanding, hours of practice and, at times, emotionally draining, and what impresses me the most is that when those girls get hurt, they keep going. They are badasses to a degree that only gets associated with sports like hockey and football.

I will be the first to say the bitchiness is real. I’ve seen it but typically more from the parents than the cheerleaders (parents are bad sports. Some of the worst I’ve ever seen), which is nice. And there are definitely some stage moms (including me at times. Yeah, I admit it. But if I’m spending all this money, she better work hard). And it does get frustrating when people mock you for having a cheerleader. But to see the look on my daughter’s face, and the happiness she gets at practice, football games, and competitions makes the early morning hours, the seemingly endless competitions filled with painfully loud, nearly identical cheer mixes, the loss of any social life for 6 months, and the constantly having to fend off negative comments and stereotypes about cheerleaders worth it.

So there you have it. I confess that I’m a cheer mom. My 16 year old self would be shocked. But my 37 year old self is proud.

Linking up with Kathy for the first time in a few weeks.

A few words on depression, suicide, celebrities, and everyone else

August 12, 2014 by Jana 17 Comments

I hadn’t planned on writing a post today but I have a few things I need to say.

In case you haven’t seen or heard the news, actor Robin Williams died yesterday, and the cause of death was suicide. It’s a tragic, horrible situation and so many are mourning the loss of an incredible and talented performer on social media, in the news, or in private. And that’s fine. You do what you need to do to make sense of it.

For me, though, it’s a bit different. It is frustrating to me, someone who battles depression every day, to see this hyper focus on mental illness and suicide simply because a celebrity dies as a result. Depression is an every day battle for millions of people, and every day, many of them take their lives. Yet no one floods their Twitter or Facebook feeds with pictures, memes or quotes from those every day, yet equally special, people. I get that perhaps people are taken aback with this because there is a cultural perception that celebrities are invincible. They have money, fame, and everything we place value on. They bring joy and happiness to others. So how can they be depressed?

That, to me, highlights just how misinterpreted depression is. Depression is a mental illness, caused by internal factors, not external ones. No matter how incredible your life may seem on the outside, depression wreaks havoc on your insides. Mentally, emotionally, physically. Depression skews your perception of everything and it feels impossible to make anyone understand what’s going on (for a great depiction, check out Allie Brosch’s comics on depression. She says is better than I ever could). Depression makes you feel alone and isolated. Depression takes away all the things normal people take for granted.

Depression is more than just sadness.

Robin Williams’s influence on pop culture is undeniable. Some of his movies are among the best ever, and are some of my personal favorites, and it is no doubt because of the talent he leant to those movies. His talent was unique. His mental illness was not.

And for me, that’s the tragic part.

We, as a society, need to take the stigma out of mental illness and start making it okay for people to be open about their struggles. And those of us who have it need to break the barriers and make sure we talk about it (besides Allie Brosch, two others who are fantastically open about their depression are Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess) and Joe Pantoliano’s book. There’s also some wonderful TED talks on depression, including this one from a comic). We need to let others know they’re not alone. We need to encourage those contemplating suicide to seek professional help rather than inundate them with glib sayings about how happiness is a choice and it will all be better. We need to generate a better understanding of the disease.

We must support, and remember, everyone who is fighting against depression and other mental illnesses.

Not just the celebrities.

12 things I don’t do as a parent

5 reasons to enjoy Mondays

Book review: Building Blocks of a Better Attitude

Confessions of a reluctant cheer mom

A few words on depression, suicide, celebrities, and everyone else

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