Working, Parenting, and Balance

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        It has become more common with each decade passing, that both parents must work full-time jobs in order to make ends meet. The hopes of raising a family in the same manner as 'The Wonder Years' or 'Leave It To Beaver' have become a thing of the past. Due to the financial crunch most families are in, parents are putting in as many hours as possible at work. Unfortunately, this can also mean that a lot of children and adolescents go through those lengthy shifts alone. You feel like a full time employee, and a part time parent.

    As a mother who owns her own business, I feel this pain sense of defeat on a daily basis. One of the biggest complaints I hear from working parents is the anguish of feeling they are failing in the parenting department, because their time is wrapped up in work. We miss classroom parties. Ballgames. Plays. Concerts. The list goes on and on. The alternative though is not an option, In order to keep a warm roof over the heads of our loved ones, these are things we must sacrifice being a part of. The guilt can be as heavy as an elephant on your shoulders.

    The big question is, how do we balance it all? 

I've compiled a list of what seems to be the most popular sugestions given by so many of us floating in this boat. Maybe some of these ideas will be helpful with your busy schedule as well. The list is in no specific order. 

    You get off work, and once home, continue to work. There's dirty dishes in the kitchen, laundry in the hallway, and meals to cook. Just to name a few. Maybe it's time to delegate a few tasks to others in the home. If they can lift a hand, and accomplish some of these things BEFORE you get home, that gives you more time to spend together. Plus relieves a bit of stress.

    Discuss with your family your frustrations. Just keep in mind that it is not a time to vent, but rather a time to be heard, and give them a chance to be heard as well. If you can keep the communication lines open, it can help everyone be more supportive of each other. 

    If you are as stubborn and hard-headed as I, the thought of asking for help from outside your home makes you cringe. It gives you a feeling of inadequacy. Makes you wonder if they think you aren't a good parent. You worry that your children will feel they are being pushed off on someone else. In all actuality, confiding in someone you can trust, not only lifts some stress from your shoulders, but is a lesson for your children's future as well. If they see there's no shame in doing what is best for those you love, they will grow up with the same mindset.

    Don't bring work home with you. Let those you work for, or with, know that once you are home, that is also where your mind is. Set some boundaries, in a professional manner. Leave your laptop closed once home. Turn your email notifications off. When home, let your family see that they are your priority, and THIS is home, aka family time.

    As your children age, learn to make schedules. Abide by them as much as possible. Include your family in your schedule. Not only for your benefit, but for theirs as well. For example, make Sunday afternoon 'family game time.' Let them help you with the scheduling, so they feel included in the decisions. Make sure they understand that this is a schedule that you would like to stick to, but to also keep in mind that sometimes things happen that can't be stopped. Come up with a game plan for those instances as well. Keeping in mind that there is a difference in something unstoppable, and something you CHOOSE to not stop.

    One of the most difficult steps in balance, is making time for yourself. Remember, you can't water a flower from an empty cup. This is so very important.  Always remember that you are doing what is necessary for your family. The best thing you can do is keep communicating with them, on an age appropriate level of course. Keeping in mind that you are setting an example, which will have a huge impact on their future as well. Parenting is not simple. But loving your child is. It's impossible to add hours to a day. There will always be 24. But what you can do is make each of them count.

Malfunctioning Thyroid?

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Statistics have shown that one in eight women in America suffer from thyroid issues. As one of those unfortunate women, I am constantly looking for ways to make the day to day journey a bit easier. I have done a lot of research, and thought I would share some of the steps I took through the nightmare of being diagnosed, with the hope of helping someone else as well.

Thyroid frustrations seem to run through my family, making me aware of symptoms to watch for through my post teenage years. When I began to notice that I constantly felt drowsy, and my energy was depleted, I began looking at other changes in my life as well. Unfortunately, this was also during the pandemic, and after receiving a positive diagnosis of Covid 19. This hindered a bit of my suspicions, because many of the symptoms were those that could be in relation to the effects of the virus. So I finally decided to make a list of those things that seemed a bit 'off ' to reference during the appointment with my physician. The top five on my list? 

   

     - Constantly feeling exhausted. Like, not just tired, but to the point that I was always falling asleep while sitting on the couch. When I would attempt to be woken, I almost had what I would describe as the feeling of being drugged. It was beginning to cause me to miss important appointments, work, and time with my family.

    - Little to obsolete sex drive. This of course, I felt was due to the constant exhaustion. Intimacy became a thing of the past, resulting in a feeling of depression and inadequacy. 

    -Hair loss. When I did have enough gumption to bathe, washing my hair left my shower slow to drain. I knew this was a symptom of hypothyroidism, but also a symptom of stress. Leaving me to believe it was probably a result of the latter.

    -Increased appetite. It seemed like those rare moments when I was able to keep my eyes open, I constantly felt hungry. But the hunger always accompanied cravings of sweet snacks, and salty potato chips. Again, a symptom of stress, or depression. Both of which I seemed qualified for.

    -Weight gain. Hand in hand with the snacking and sleeping, this made perfect sense.

Once I was finally able to meet with my physician in person, rather than via face-time, (due to the pandemic) I requested she do a panel of bloodwork on me. Three days later, she called and stated that my vitamin D levels were low, but that everything else appeared normal. So I was given a script for a higher dose of vitamin D than you receive in a daily multivitamin, and the assumption that it was all related to post Covid depression.

After three months of noticing absolutely no difference in my daily pattern, I returned to her office for a follow up on the blood work. Once again, I was told that it was in relation to a vitamin deficiency, and sent on my way. Frustrated and feeling helpless, I found myself ranting on the phone to my sister, who lived 5000 miles away, and had recently been diagnosed with Hashimoto's Disease. The more we discussed our symptoms, the more I was convinced that I was not receiving the correct diagnosis. Through my sisters diagnosis, we discovered that there is more than one test for thyroid disorders, but generally only one is offered, unless the others are requested. 

Long story a bit shortened, after a year of bloodwork and increased symptoms pointing to so many random health issues, such as the depression, stress, and Covid relations, I chose to find a new physician. Upon requesting that I have what is called a T3 and T4 test done, which is as easy as a simple blood test, I was finally diagnosed with hypothyroidism. 

Don't misunderstand me. Nobody wants a diagnosis of a disorder, or disease. But I was relieved to know that it was more than the original diagnosis, and that I could now be treated correctly, giving me the chance to soon feel alive and myself again. I've wrote this in the hopes of helping others who might be facing the same problem, and feel like they are running themselves into a wall with their physician. Request the extra testing to be done. Yes, they are the ones that went to school and got the degree. But you are the only one who knows exactly how you feel. Follow that gut instinct, and refuse to give up. Believe me, the end result is worth it. 

Good luck, and best wishes. 

    

    -

 

Please Don't Comfort With These Words

    

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 April first is never a joke for me. I dread April Fool's Day, year after year, as it is the day I lost my hero. The day time stopped turning for me in that single second of the phone ringing. I was nineteen. My first child was six months old. My life was so full of changes, and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, my dad was gone. He was thirty-nine. 

    I am now forty-four years old. Let me say this... to outlive a parent, at such a young age, leaves you with an emotional tornado. Yes, if life goes as you expect, to bury your parent is not unheard of. But it does not make it any easier. For me, one of the most difficult things through this process has been the comments that others have made. Though I know in the minds of others their words are meant to comfort, it always leaves me with the taste of a rotten lemon. 

    Please don't tell me that you know how I feel. I will never repeat those words to another person. Contrary to popular belief it is not comforting. I've learned to nod and accept the usual hug. But my brain is screaming, as if in the mosh pit of an underground concert. NO, you DO NOT know how I feel. Nor will I know how you feel after losing someone. Each person loves differently, as well as grieves differently. Yes, we will both go through the excruciating pain of our heart breaking. But you do not know how I feel. 

     I do not want to appear unappreciative. It has just become an instant response when someone feels they share something in common. But let's not. Thank you for acknowledging the loss. Thank you for attempting to make me feel as if I am not alone. But please don't tell me that you know how I feel. I would love to ask, 'Did you have to help raise your siblings, because your mother fell apart?' Or better yet, 'Did your siblings have to stand by and watch your hero gasp for his last breath?' I know, cold, right? But it is immediately where my mind goes. 'Did you fight with the so-called parents of your hero over the placement of the empty shell of the body of the son they chose to abandon at the age of seventeen?' The questions could go on and on. I swear it is a miracle I have a tongue left after so many years of biting it. 

    If the subject comes up in conversation, it is okay to tell me that you are sorry for my loss. Because I know you are. Believe it or not, it is even acceptable to ask permission to inquire on how we lost him at such a young age. If you feel the need to share your story of losing a parent with me, that is fine too. I will also tell you that you have my most sincere condolences. I will sit and listen, sympathize, hug you... whatever I may do to help. But I will also acknowledge that I will never know how you feel, because I am not you. You are not I. I will tell you that it's okay to be angry. Just don't stay in the land of anger. It is okay to cry, because it hurts. It hurts more than if someone physically dug a hole in your chest and ripped out your beating heart. But beyond that, I have no idea what you went through. Nor do you know how it felt to go through my loss. 

    Love me. But don't pity me. 

    Offer an ear, but please don't if you truly don't want to listen. 

    But above all else... never tell me you know how I feel.

    

Energizer Bunny? Not so Much

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I managed to have my children nine years apart. Everyone said it was crazy. I enjoyed it. While the eldest was in school, I got to have one on one with the baby. Looking back, it was wonderful. Wouldn't change it for the world. 

But now, as a middle-aged mom, I deal with a sense of guilt. I always wonder if my second child was robbed of things I did with her brother. I was twenty when I had him. We did everything together.... I was still young and energetic. Fast forward, today I am not. Divorced and with today's recession and economic crisis, I work full time. I'm not the young, new mother with all the energy and time of the Energizer Bunny. Throw in a lazy thyroid, and fibromyalgia, and some days I'm slower than the molasses escaping from the mason jar. 

My daughter is amazing. Vibrant and full of electricity, fueled by sass. I know she was to young to look back and remember the days when I could run around the track cheering her brother on as he fought to cross the finish line first. But I'm not too old to remember, and some days, it makes me just want to cry. 

I can't be the only middle-aged mom who deals with this. It should have a name. We should start a club. Meet once a week for support. {We could meet on face time, so we didn't have to feel responsible to put jeans on and actually GO, lol} But then, of course, I'd feel guilty for using that time for ME, instead of her. Even though she is in her room, music vibrating the windows, and 4 other voices emanating from her phone speaker. I at least know that I am sitting on my couch crocheting a blanket, ready for some one on one with her when she is ready. If I haven't fallen asleep while waiting. 

Does she stay in her room because somewhere, subconsciously, she remembers that volleyball tournament in grade school that I just could not pull myself together for in order to attend? Or is it the lunch date I had to call off, because of a brain splitting headache? The Valentine Party in the 2nd grade that I couldn't take off work for? So many options, leading to one question. Did I disappoint her? Just to type it breaks my heart. 

Tell me I'm not the only one. Tell me someone else had to send their child to daycare and cry all the way to work. Tell me she is a typical teen, who knows her mom would give her the stars in the sky if she were able. 

I need to know what to name our club. Or is there one already out there, and if so... did the mail lady lose my invitation? Can someone send me a new one? 

Oh, and I need written instructions on how to work this face time thing. Add those in the P.S. of the invite. 

Please.

I know you're out there.

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Where Did The Fly on the Ceiling Come From?

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Why can't we have another tea party with the plastic Dora tea set?

Once they turn 14, is it customary for the hip to slip out of socket every time I speak?

Is there something on the ceiling that only I can't see, and only seems to need to be watched while I am talking?

When did cold cereal start tasting better than a homemade breakfast?

What is this new language they speak when talking to friends?

Will her friends really disown her if she doesn't get a piercing in her face?

When was my shiny golden 'Mother of the Year' statue stolen from the mantal?

Do I seriously look like a dork if I wear a coat when it's below 20 degrees outside?

What is a dork?

Overnight, I believe she morphed into a vampire, and cannot be seen in daylight before 4pm

What kind of fun starts after 10pm, and will you REALLY die if you miss it?

Why isn't she embarrassed of the piles of empty water bottles and dirty clothes stacked up in her room?

Will the universe suddenly crumble around her when I make her clean it?

Am I truly going to ruin her life, landing her in therapy at the age of 30, because I grounded her for not cleaning her room?

Does the world stop if she can't own a pair of Nike's?

Should I learn CPR in order to save her life, after each time I tell her 'no'?

Why does the Domino's pizza at Suzie's house tonight taste better than the Domino's pizza at our house tonight?

Am I neglecting her health, because I don't truly believe she can't hear me?

Have I lost my hearing, because I can't hear the words she just mumbled?

Have I lost sense of the english language because I can't understand what the musical artist XYZ123 just said 5 times in a row?

And why is it that my hearing seems to be extraordinarily sensitive, causing the music to be to loud?

How can they sit in a room together, and all I hear is the sound of buttons being pushed?

Will my grandkids know how to speak... or will all conversations be spoken via text?

Grandkids..... oh no. She's old enough to make me a grandma.

Surely I'm not the only mom in the world that wants to watch their child at a sporting event.

Will her hand really fall off if she waves at me?

Will I melt her skin if I attempt to give her a hug?

And the biggest question of all...

Did body snatchers break into our home in the middle of the night, and take my sweet princess? 

I think so. I think they have relocated her to a land where it's in the rule book that you have to sleep all day, eat cereal in your bed surrounded by dirty clothes and garbage, and flies on the ceiling don't exist. Where the moms wear golden medallions around their neck as they take their kid to get a puncture wound placed on their face, while singing all the words to XYZ123, AND they turn the volume up. Where the use of a chiropracter is obsolete, because it's cool to walk with a limp due to a hip out of place. Where waving and hugging are illegal, vocal conversations don't exist, and nothing opens until after 10pm. The land where you win a pair of Nike's everytime you order a Domino's pizza, and there aren't allowed to be anyone over the age of 21 at sporting events. This is the planet where the stork really does bring the baby, but only after you turn 30.

And tea parties are prohibited.

Mom Guilt

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 It truly is a real thing. You don't recognize it though, until you already have it. It's like a toothache. It starts with just a hint of discomfort ever so often, and over time, leads into a body part in so much pain you just want to rip it from your mouth with a pair of pliers. Of course it's not my teeth hurting, but sometimes I'd like to rip my heart out, wrap it in a cute pink cloth, and hide it under my pillow until I'm ready to use it again. 

I know, it seems exaggerated. I seem dramatic. If that's the case, you've been spared from the mom guilt thus far in your journey. But don't worry. You'll get the experience too, someday.

It's looking back on all those times that I wished my child could walk, so I no longer had to carry her. The moments when I thought it would be so nice if I could just hand her a hamburger, instead of taking 30 minutes to feed her. The endless days of being a soccer mom, and rearranging my schedule because she needed a ride, and wishing she just had her license. The missed parties my friends threw, the great job offers I passed up, the babysitter costs.... it's all those things plus so many more that actually had the audacity to pop into my mind, even though it may have been a split second, and never given another thought. It's the mom guilt. Looking back to all those seconds adding up to minutes, of wishing for a break. Or wishing things were "easier." 

It's the guilt of knowing you will never get those moments back, and wondering if that makes you a bad mom. The heartache of knowing that she walks herself to her car now every day, and is able to stop for a hamburger on her way to her volleyball tournament. The pain of knowing that you no longer need a babysitter, because there is no baby. Oh, and those parties you just hated to miss? Nobody can tell you anything about them, because nobody can remember what happened anyway. Tonight, you could be going to one, because there isn't a crying baby stopping you. Yet you stay at home and cry a bit. Because there isn't a baby at home needing you. Realizing, that after all these years, you already had the most important job all along.

At any point in time, it can hit you. Like a toothache. Or a Kenworth with no brakes on Interstate 90 running 6 hours behind. Just remember, you're not alone. Momma says I'll get through it, and she is apparently living proof. It is a reminder that you are human, and can still love your child more than the breath you inhale, even though they can dress themselves now. 

Keep all of this in mind when she gets ready to jump in her car, and asks for $20 for gas and a burger. Enjoy the hug you receive after giving her $25 instead, in the case of an emergency. Embrace the moment when she rolls her eyes when you request she call you when she gets there so you know she's safe. Above all else, know that when she sees you in the stands during halftime at the tournament and smiles as she is secretly begging you to not wave, that every moment has lead up to this one. No matter who drove the car.

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Moms Shades of Pink

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 "Should it be light or dark pink? Which do I go with?" Then, with a sigh, "I don't even know what to do."

My son and his fiance have been picking out wedding colors... ALL DAY. Which has lead my mind to struggle focusing on 50 shades of pink. After a couple hours of going through each and every color of pink in the spectrum, I step away for a time out. Funny, a time out. I used to put him in time out when he was a toddler. He'd sit in the corner with his head down, every time, and say, "I'm sorry mommy." Then I would explain to him that I only do this because I want him to be safe and learn right from wrong, because I love him more than all the stars in the sky... and he would tell me it was ok, and that he loved me more than a hotdog. 

Pink. Bold, or pastel? They continue, and so do I. Now lost in my own train of thought... pink. I was so scared. One pink line, or two? I can't really tell. I don't want to wait 5 minutes. Is it supposed to be a dark pink? I can see one...... my heart races as I hear someone else enter the McDonald's public restroom. Little do they know, the 19 year old girl in the stall next to them is going through the biggest moment of her life, alone, sitting on a toilet seat cover, her life suddenly based on dark pink, or light pink...one line or two? I close my eyes and take a deep breath. She leaves, after meticulously applying her bright red lipstick. As the door latches, I slowly open my eyes, and stare at the white stick in my hand. Clearly, two, bright pink lines. I sigh, before the tears start rolling, and say to myself, " I don't even know what to do."

I feel a tear trickle from my eye. As I try to nonchalantly wipe it from my cheek, I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up, shaking myself out of 1998, and returning to the present. He looks at me and smiles. Suddenly, all my worries are gone, and it's just him and I. 

"Don't start crying already, mom." he says.  As I stand to give him a hug, I hear her say behind us,

"Are you sure you want all pink?", and before he can answer, I hear myself say, "Yes! Pink is a beautiful life changer. You want pink." He looks at me curiously, wondering what exactly I'm talking about, because I've never been fond of pink. Until today. Today, I remembered just how special the color pink is.

I grab his hand and smile. A genuine, happy smile. 

"Want to go to McDonald's?" I ask.

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