yesterday so that I can do a few yummy practice runs. It's coming together, and we're still more than two months out. ​
​
I promise, I'm not crazy.

I read mommy rants all the time about how women can't have it all, and about how Pinterest perfection is ruining women's lives. I read those posts, even though I know that I shouldn't, and I get irritated. They feel like personal attacks and seem unfairly critical. A common theme in such posts is that women should stop the delusions of having it all; an argument almost always punctuated with a significant dose of suck-tastic gender-biased criticism. Damned if they do, damned if they don't, if you will. The posts often argue that because no woman's life is Pinterest perfect, to pretend otherwise with homemade Valentines and adorable notes in our kiddos' bento boxes smacks of dishonesty. 

Mommy wars are alive and well, and working moms and stay-at-home moms alike shoulder massive amounts of guilt over forces that they often can't control. But it's also true that if you're feeling overwhelmed by something - career, teething, game booth for the spring carnival - the answer is NOT to blame and point fingers at other women who seem like they have it together. 

• I'm good at party planning. I am also good at letting exercise, laundry, dishes, and finishing any home DIY project slide right on over to the back-burner.
• Chicka-dee is killing it at work. She also feels guilty about missing out on quality time with her kiddos when she clocks 70 hours at her desk.
• Sister runs a tight ship and has the most organized house on the block. She also rocks a wardrobe of yoga pants and never goes out with friends any more.
• BFF loves to party from happy hour to witching hour. She also is living paycheck to paycheck, and can't quite figure out how to dig herself out of her financial hole. 

Party planner. Corporate climber. Organization diva. Social butterfly. Labels like these are always merely one side of the coin. We're all good at something. Most of us know what we excel in, and we milk it (consciously or not) as our personal brand in order to build social capital (often on social media). But there's always another side of the coin - the stuff that we're not so good at; that we are a little bit ashamed of; that we wish we could change about ourselves; that we're always avowing to do-better. Those things, though, have nothing to do with being a mom, or not a mom, or a working mom, or a stay at home mom. The things that we do well and the things that we wish we could change exist because we are HUMANS trying to make our way in the world. Judging someone for keeping their footing while others fall down and try to get back up is silly; standing, falling, and rising is all of us all of the time. It's what humans do.

Pitting groups of women against each other in finger-pointing, Pinterest-scapegoating mommy wars hurts women. Lifting each other up and complimenting each other on our strengths helps women. There is no shame in allowing your-baking-challenged-self to compliment the classroom cupcake maven on her baking skills. Letting her know that you recognize her culinary talents does not diminish the value of the hours you spend doing community service. There is no shame in giving your neighbor props for her homeschooling expertise. Letting her know that you admire the quality educational experiences that she crafts for her kids does not diminish the value of the hours you log at work so that you can provide decent health insurance for your family. There is no shame in complimenting your colleague on her commitment to clean eating and fitness. Letting her know that you admire her for her physical strength does not diminish the warm fuzzies that you get when you choose family game night over going to the gym night. 

Life is not a zero sum game. What other women do well does not lessen me, and vice versa. Mommy rants, mommy wars, women-this, women-that... I'm over it. Women can do most things well with adequate support. If someone feels like they are faltering, and that something has to give, adequate support is missing. I can't make guarantees about the promise of mutual respect and consideration to overcome barriers. Sometimes that claptrap is systemic, and the fight is much bigger than one person. But I can promise that trying to support one another is a heckuva lot more likely to give someone the psychological or material boost that they need to keep on keepin' on than pointing a finger in their direction and audibly uttering "tsk tsk." 

Be good to one another. You do you, and I'll gladly throw a party to celebrate your accomplishments.

We're halfway through Black History Month, and this year I'm doing something different: I'm actively participating. As a white person with plenty of unexamined white privilege, I always tended to note the passing of this month very passively. I was wrong to do that. In light of the rightfully growing Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement, I know that it is time to do more privilege soul-searching and to actually educate myself about the black lives that have mattered, and that have had such a profound impact, throughout history.

My tactic for educating myself has been through nightly readings with my 4-year-old kiddo. We've talked about really heavy topics: slavery, state-sanctioned violence, civil rights violations, and more. Although no one has said this to me aloud, I can imagine naysayers tsk-tsking the appropriateness of addressing such topics with a small child. My retort is that the topics my daughter and I discuss have happened literally to millions of children throughout time. In fact, they are still happening. No child ever deserved to have slavery, state-sanctioned violence, civil rights violations, and more to be part of their personal narrative. And what's more, our unwillingness to examine such atrocities doesn't erase them. Silence doesn't make the hurt stop. 

Since my kiddo is only 4 years old, she's really not understanding much of what we read. Still, every night we discover another black woman hero - someone who fought on the side of equality and inclusion, even in the face of significant personal dangers. And each night when I ask the kiddo what she thinks, she more or less tells me that the people we read about are kind and that they tried to help other people. She usually adds that they were awesome or cool too, 'cause she's enthusiastic like that.

Even though the names Sojourner Truth, Ella Baker, and Clara McBride Hale are unlikely to stick in her mind (for now), I know that at the end of the month, four facts will linger: 1) the people we read about had/have black skin; 2) they were/are women; 3) they help other people; and 4) they are heroes. Sure, I can't dismantle white privilege and institutional racism with a month-long history lesson. But at least I can parent by reframing the narrative around black women in our home. If my white daughter sees black women as kind and brave and heroic, that is undeniably a good thing. ​

Today is Fat Tuesday! Laissez bon temps rouler! And, of course, that means tomorrow is the start of Lent. I always try to give up something or take on a practice during Lent, and I know that my reasons aren't necessarily theologically sound. I manage, however, to twist my justifications around in my mind so that they make sense to me (I focus a lot on the discipline side of things). If you want to fight the impulse to turn Lent into a self-improvement project, however, then I'm throwing it out there that a key part of a traditional Lenten sacrifice is almsgiving. Almsgiving = helping others, and as part of a Lenten practice, it means engaging in a discipline of helping. It means being mindful about helping; it means dutifully giving to people in need because it is the right thing to do.  

Regardless of the time of year, we would all do well to focus more on being helpers in the world. Helping isn't limited to a particular religious orientation, age, gender, or what not. It's something that we're all capable of doing, all of the time. It doesn't require a lot of money. It doesn't require fancy material possessions to pass along to others. It only requires an open mind to see people who need assistance, and to try to figure out ways to meet them there. Sometimes helping might be as simple as a kind word. Other times it might mean thinking outside of the box to figure out how to help someone from Point A to Point B. It could also entail matchmaking and connecting those most able to help with the people who need it most. Helping can be hospitality. Helping can be listening. Helping can be a hug, a smile, or hand to hold. 

The great part of thinking about helping/almsgiving during Lent is the mindfulness of it all. A long time ago, a truthy claim emerged that it only takes 21 days to form a habit. In reality, how long habit-forming takes varies by person, and can be anywhere from a few weeks to almost a year or more. Lent is 40 days. Maybe long enough to form a habit for some, not enough for others, but still 40 solid days to make a dent in the your mindless moving throughout the world. Think back to the goodness multiplier... if there are a bunch of people out there trying to do 40 days of helping, the good they put forth will multiply and collectively we'll be riding high on a much higher wave of good vibrations. 40x. 40 times. 40(good) = Mind blown.

I once was sitting in the humble kitchen of a quiet, unassuming woman who lived in the rural South her entire seventy-plus years of life. She was easy-going, but not particularly worldly. Pop culture was not her thing. At some point, a joke was made about having too much "junk in the trunk." The meaning of that phrase didn't register in her mind, and in all seriousness she said, "I don't know about too much junk in the trunk, but I definitely have too much junk in my drawers!" Unintentional hilarity ensued. Bless her heart.

While I doubt any of us are hoarding stuff in our underoos, I'd be willing to bet that we have actual, factual drawers in our homes that are full to overflowing. I know that I do. So, imagine the serendipity I felt last week when I stumbled across some info in the ol' blogosphere about a revolutionary way of organizing clothes. There's a book out there that I'm positive is mind-blowing. I haven't read it, but I've read about it, and even decided to apply some of its principles. The book is titled, The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up.** Frankly, I'm a little scared to read it because of the very real possibility that I'll go on a tidying up bender and throw out everything that I own. I have the tip of one toe still in hoarding territory, but the rest of me is all set to call a company to haul everything away. A conundrum, but I digress. 

Back to the book. The author is Marie Kondo, a Japanese organizing consultant taking the world by storm. While I understand that the book is packed with many gems o' bliss, the one that stood out to me is the KonMari method of folding clothes. Be sure to click on the links to read more (and to even watch videos!), but here's the gist: fold clothes in little "packages" that are uniformly sized. Then put clothes in the drawer vertically, not horizontally. She also suggests color coding, but I didn't go that far. The benefit is that you can see everything at a glance, and more stuff will fit in your drawer. The rub for me was that I was already folding the correct way (thanks Gap, for that lingering lifelong lesson. I did get something out of that summer job! Also, correct folding is not pictured in the Before pic below. What you see there is the crumple and shove method), but I wasn't doing the last step of folding in half or thirds and placing items in the drawer vertically. What a difference that step makes! See for yourself!

I can actually see my collection of crappy t-shirts! Wow! Now I really know that I need to throw out some stuff! Baby steps, people. I'm getting there. I also KonMari folded all of the kiddo's clothes (I'll post a pic to that on Facebook sometime soon), and I plan to tackle the rest of my clothes and Mike's next. I'm a KonMari folding fool, and it feels good!

I'd love to hear more dirty details of the junk in your drawers - please comment below or over on Facebook! Also, note on the ** above: I've added a "store" to this site where I'll feature stuff that I think is good and useful, and maybe you'll think it's good and useful too. Full disclosure: if you buy stuff here instead of directly on Amazon, I will get a little tiny kickback. To offer my thanks, if you come visit, I'll let you see my drawers and maybe even give you some coffee afterwards. (Tee hee!) I also signed up for a service called Kit, where I'll compile kits with stuff relevant to certain themes and feature them on the site. Again, if you buy out of the Kit, you'll be directed to Amazon and I'll make a couple of shiny coins. My piggy bank overfloweth with gratitude. Here's a link to a KonMari kit - you can get the book, some sweet drawer dividers if you're feeling fancy, as well as some chalkboard labels just 'cause I like them. Happy feathering, friends!

I yelled at the kiddo the other day. It was an epic TWO-HOUR battle over eating, and I reached my I-can't-say-eat-your-food-one-more-time-without-screaming point. I immediately felt terrible and the kiddo's tears took a long time to subside. Not my best mommying moment. Even though we both eventually calmed down, I was still faced with the knowledge that screaming didn't solve the underlying problem. It never does. 

I needed a better strategy. I needed to divine a plan. I needed to think about better, non-screaming contingencies ahead of time. After turning to my friend Google for some "help my 4-year-old won't eat" soul-searching, I felt gratified when I stumbled across research from Harvard psychologists that supported my instinct to be proactive. The researchers write about the want/should conflict. With regard to my dilemma, when in the heat of a dinnertime battle, what I may want to do is scream like the boiling mommy teapot that I am, whereas what I should do is something a tad more positive (I'll get to that). According to the author of the A Kind Parent blog, the key to making optimal should choices rather than suboptimal want choices is to plan ahead. 

Sounds easy, right? So how do we actually plan ahead in a way that will cool us down when kid antics make things get heated? Lucky for all us feeling the mommy guilt, I came up with an quick and easy worksheet to help us work through the process. Check it out, and click on the image to download! 

Step Three. Google That Sh*t. I view the internet as an amazing crowdsourcing resource when it comes to parenting. I'm not saying that everyone is right, but there are a lot of people out there spilling ink on how to raise kids, and reading a variety of viewpoints is kind of like a brainstorming sesh with you at the helm. 

Step Four. After you read all the tubes, write down the ideas that stick out to you as ones that seem pretty good. It's even better if people who support the idea write about it in actual publications, and not just in the comments under GIFS of toddlers gorging/bathing in spaghetti. For my problem, the solutions that stand out are meal routines and fixed expectations. 

Step Five. Look around. Is anyone else responsible for raising children with you? If so, politely ask them to do steps 1-4.

Step Six. Talk to your parenting partner. 

Step Seven. Listen to your gut. What do you think is a workable solution for you and your fam? 

Step Eight. Come up with your plan. Be specific. What are you going to do the next time your kid has their finger on the detonator button?
This is what we came up with to avert future mealtime crises - we will eat our food at the dining room table. The kiddo has to at least try all of her food. If she doesn't like it, she doesn't have to finish it as long as she gave trying it a good faith effort.  When we finish our food, we set a timer for 15 minutes. We then accompany the kiddo at the table for those 15 minutes. If she feels full before eating all of her food, she can tell us that and ask to be excused. If there is still food on her plate when the 15 minutes is over, we clear the table. At any point in the evening, if she says that she's hungry, she can have her leftover dinner food back. Dessert is a sometime treat when A) it's available; and B) we think she did a good job of focusing on eating her dinner.

Step Nine. Come up with your contingency for what to do if the plan doesn't work. For my part, if my dinner plan starts falling apart at the seams, I'm going to walk away. I'm not going to say "eat your dinner" again. She'll eat when she's hungry. My job is to make food available and accessible, not to nag her. Of course, my plan isn't set in stone forever and ever. The second part of my contingency plan is to be flexible. Revisit and revise until we find a happy dinnertime equilibrium. 

Step Ten. Pat yourself on the back for being awesome. Parenting isn't always a win. It's trial and error, and occasionally stumbling on something that works. The key to being a great parent is putting forth effort, and if you're trying to take steps toward more positive parenting, then you're doing an A+ job already. Keep it up, and keep this worksheet handy. True, this is based on a n of 1, but let me tell you... for the last week this kid has been ROCKING mealtime. And we are loving eating together again. 

A while back, I said that I was on a quest to use what I have or kick the excess stuff to the curb. My last project was my lace doily table runner (See left. And, now that I mention it, I should totally put it back on the table). I'm still stoked at how the runner turned out, and I love that it honors the hard work of one of my foremothers. It's been six-ish months since the last project, and I still have plenty of stuff that I can repurpose or ditch. I decided to turn my eyes on a sad and forlorn torn paper lamp shade, and to snazzy it up with something out of my "too much stuff" files. 

That tear right there is what a paper shade looks like after you stick a vacuum cleaner attachment through it. FYI, in case you were wondering. So, now to talk about what I used to fix my oopsie. (Another aside... ripping a paper lamp shade off is kinda gratifying. If you have one lying around and want to do this project, wait until you get really frustrated with something, and then have at it). Some time ago, I started collecting linen calendars. No reason why, but I have always found them to be quaint and homey and cozy and comfy. I have many, many calendars, but here are the three that I chose for this project. 

Emme's go-to reaction these days for any kind of direction or discipline is, "soooooooooorrrrry!" She apologizes when we tell her not to suck her thumb; when we ask her to put away her toys; when we tell her to eat; when we tell her to turn left, not right. You get the picture. Her sorry-ful nature has me troubled for a couple of reasons. First, those apologies aren't genuine, and that's obviously problematic. She's using "sorry" as a crutch to get away with things or to not listen.

But the second and bigger issue for me (and Mike) is that she is exhibiting what I call sorry girl behavior. Women tend to internalize "sorry" to the point that we spout it out like second nature. "Sorry" is an extension of the lessons society teaches women to not take up too much space, to not speak our minds, and to not exert our authority. Absent-mindedly communicating "sorry" as a polite way to express sympathy with another person's misfortune means that women find ourselves perpetually in a pitiable state. That's not a good thing. 

I want to raise a polite child so that she grows up to be a polite adult. There is too much uncivil behavior in the world, which inevitably leads to too many desires to punch other people in the face. But there's a difference between being empathetic and polite and being a sorry sack of apologies. Teaching the subtleties of being nice without falling into the trope of raising a "nice girl" ain't easy. 

Here's our current strategy: the only reason to say "I'm sorry" is in response to causing actual damage or harm to another person or their property. 

If the kiddo stomps on my toe (i.e., hurts me) because she's not paying attention to the world around her, "I'm sorry" is an appropriate response. If she spills milk on my book (i.e., damages my property), she can apologize away. If we tell her to go upstairs and she doesn't, that's not a cause for sorrow. The better response is merely "ok," and then to follow instructions. Ditto for not turning off the TV after PAW Patrol ends, for leaving her toys cluttered on the coffee table, for being slow to brush her teeth at night. Those are personal responsibility issues, not circumstances of sympathy with another's distress. 

A big part of the reason why this concept is so hard to teach is not really the abstract nature of sympathy, but rather because I am GUILTY AS CHARGED. I say "I'm sorry" for everything. A few minutes ago, I inadvertently apologized because the internet is sluggish today. If someone tells me they got hung up at the DMV, I'll usually say I'm sorry. But the kicker is that I'm not - I'm not sorry. I am deferring to a filler word because I'm too lazy to come up with the right ones. For the internet situation, I should say, "Please hang on a second - the internet is slow today." Those words acknowledge not only the inconvenience of waiting, but also the fact that I'm not actually the one clogging up the intertubes. For the DMV convo, I should say, "Ugh - that's frustrating. I hope that they were able to help you without too much of a wait." That statement identifies and sympathizes with the other person's discomfort in a much more meaningful and precise way. 

I doubt that our current parenting strategy is the be all and end all of sorry girl language elimination. We'll see after I try to live by the rule myself. I'm hoping that at the very least we'll recoup benefits from being conscious of our language choices (communication FTW!). I know that the kiddo models her behavior to some degree after what she sees me do. She needs to hear me say "I'm sorry" less, and I'm going to do my best to use better language that doesn't short-circuit my prerogative to move about the world unburdened with sorrow. And if I mess up, I won't be sorry about it. I'll simply resolve to do better, and move on.