I'm trying to change how I handle things at home. I realized I had gotten myself to this bad place of thinking "what is it this time?" when dealing with my stepson and even my husband. That kind of negativity only leads to bad outcomes.
Yesterday at work I returned from a meeting to find a missed call from my stepson. In true "what is it this time?" fashion, I thought "don't tell me he's locked out of the house again."
Then I caught myself. How was I to guess the reason for his call? Besides, even if that initial theory proved true, my stepson was probably scared and frustrated. The last thing he would have needed is for me to be cross with him.
So I changed the thought. I put myself in the "what can I do for you?" mindset and gave him a cheerful, "Hey bud. What's up?"
His disappointment carried through the phone line as he replied, "I didn't do well on my math quiz. I left a message for dad, too."
"First," I said, "I'm proud of you for calling to tell us because then we can help you, right?"
"Yes."
I let him know his teacher had sent an email to all the parents saying she had stalled her lesson plan to review the material again today since many of the kids were struggling with it. I hoped that would ease his mind to know it wasn't just him that was having trouble.
Then I continued, "Tonight when I get home, let's go over it together and get you feeling comfortable with it."
He agreed. No fuss, no drama. We went through the questions he got wrong and walked through his work step-by-step to see what happened. It only took 20 minutes for both of us to feel comfortable that he understood it enough to solve the same types of problems in the future.
With the "what can I do for you?" mindset, my hope is that he feels supported rather than feeling like he's in trouble. After all, I'm here to help and show love, not to judge.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Kindness and Not Taking Things Personally
Ask and ye shall receive. Even if the question isn’t seen by everyone, somehow putting it out there prompts a response from the universe.
Before publishing yesterday’s post, I was aware of a call that was happening at The Stepmom’s Toolbox about not taking things so personally. I still haven’t had a chance to listen to the recording, but I plan on saving it to my iPod tonight to listen to during my train ride to Virginia tomorrow.
I can’t wait to listen to it, especially after Stepmum of the Year’s comment yesterday wherein she linked to a post on Café Smom’s blog called, Don’t Take Things So Personally Pledge. Thank you, stepmum, for the link!
In the post, chief smom (as the author calls herself) reflects on the Stepmom’s Toolbox phone call. She says:
Then I read a lovely post by Connie at Dirty Footprints Studio about kindness. Connie is an artist/art teacher/beautiful soul who isn’t afraid to live out loud. Today she talks about what she has learned from teaching, including this:
Finally, I have to say that even with the occasional blips that happen in day-to-day family life, our spontaneous ski trip was soooo worth it. The connection, the time away, the spur-of-the-moment-no-time-to-second-guess nature of it, all of it worked to replenish our souls, which I wrote about at today at Working Mother.
I hope you are all having a fabulous Wednesday. Thank you for listening and responding in kind.
Before publishing yesterday’s post, I was aware of a call that was happening at The Stepmom’s Toolbox about not taking things so personally. I still haven’t had a chance to listen to the recording, but I plan on saving it to my iPod tonight to listen to during my train ride to Virginia tomorrow.
I can’t wait to listen to it, especially after Stepmum of the Year’s comment yesterday wherein she linked to a post on Café Smom’s blog called, Don’t Take Things So Personally Pledge. Thank you, stepmum, for the link!
In the post, chief smom (as the author calls herself) reflects on the Stepmom’s Toolbox phone call. She says:
My greatest takeaway is that I am actually gaining power over my own emotions and life when I give up the power to know everything and control certain situations. When I choose not to take something personally, I am empowering myself to have peace in my heart. What a gift that I can give myself.Whoa. It’s a great mind shift, isn’t it? Choosing not to take something personally, empowers us to have peace in our own heart. I love that. It won’t necessarily be easy to put this into practice, but think how great the rewards will be. Thank you, chief smom, for your insights! I will be joining in your challenge.
Then I read a lovely post by Connie at Dirty Footprints Studio about kindness. Connie is an artist/art teacher/beautiful soul who isn’t afraid to live out loud. Today she talks about what she has learned from teaching, including this:
Letting go of pride and putting my own insecurities aside are great reminders for me. They are things I continue to struggle with as I learn to be comfortable in my own skin as a stepmom, as a wife, and as an individual. As usual, Connie, you are reminding me what life is all about.And teaching has taught me, over and over again,
to be kind.
To just be kind. No matter what. No matter when.
No matter how you have to figure yourself out,
to find the courage-to let go of pride-to turn the other cheek-To put your own insecurities aside.
Finally, I have to say that even with the occasional blips that happen in day-to-day family life, our spontaneous ski trip was soooo worth it. The connection, the time away, the spur-of-the-moment-no-time-to-second-guess nature of it, all of it worked to replenish our souls, which I wrote about at today at Working Mother.
I hope you are all having a fabulous Wednesday. Thank you for listening and responding in kind.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
When the Stepmom Becomes the Teenager
One of my challenges in life is learning not to take offense to things. I think I’m improving, but there are times when I let things get to me rather than taking them for what they are and letting them roll off my back. Often there isn’t any offense intended, so it’s just my own sensitivity getting in my way.
As an example, this weekend my husband, stepson, and I went on a spontaneous ski trip. One morning as we were headed down to breakfast, my stepson was leaving the room without shoes and wearing a knit cap. I asked him to get his shoes and remove his hat. He whined about the hat and said he didn’t want to take it off because he hadn’t brushed his hair. (I think it was probably that he thought the hat looked cool, which it kind of did.)
My husband said, “Does he really need to take it off? This is a ski lodge. There are probably a lot of people down there with hats on.”
Though part of me agreed that he had a good point, the part of me that replied said, “Ok. Overrule me. Whatever,” and I started down the hallway. Real mature.
Sure enough, down at the breakfast buffet, other people were wearing hats. I cringed as soon as I saw it because I knew what was next.
On cue, my stepson said, “See? Lots of people have hats on.”
Grrrrr. I don’t remember now what I said, but I’m sure it was another “whatever.”
In a second I went from being the stepmom to being a temperamental teenager. Yikes. I was so frustrated that I didn’t know how to move on gracefully. Instead I focused on eating my breakfast and quieting my mind. Midway through breakfast, we were all smiling again.
How do you handle your own inner teenager? Do you have tips for (step)parenting with grace?
As an example, this weekend my husband, stepson, and I went on a spontaneous ski trip. One morning as we were headed down to breakfast, my stepson was leaving the room without shoes and wearing a knit cap. I asked him to get his shoes and remove his hat. He whined about the hat and said he didn’t want to take it off because he hadn’t brushed his hair. (I think it was probably that he thought the hat looked cool, which it kind of did.)
My husband said, “Does he really need to take it off? This is a ski lodge. There are probably a lot of people down there with hats on.”
Though part of me agreed that he had a good point, the part of me that replied said, “Ok. Overrule me. Whatever,” and I started down the hallway. Real mature.
Sure enough, down at the breakfast buffet, other people were wearing hats. I cringed as soon as I saw it because I knew what was next.
On cue, my stepson said, “See? Lots of people have hats on.”
Grrrrr. I don’t remember now what I said, but I’m sure it was another “whatever.”
In a second I went from being the stepmom to being a temperamental teenager. Yikes. I was so frustrated that I didn’t know how to move on gracefully. Instead I focused on eating my breakfast and quieting my mind. Midway through breakfast, we were all smiling again.
How do you handle your own inner teenager? Do you have tips for (step)parenting with grace?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Snow Day Phenomenon
There is a strange phenomenon occurring on the east coast. It’s not the snow exactly, although these blizzards are a little out of control. The blizzards also brought with it a day off from school for my stepson and a day of working from home for my husband and me. For some reason we have hit some magic point where it seems to be wreaking havoc on our home.
Find out what happened in my post on Working Mother.
Anyone else dealing with extreme weather?
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Meticulous Mom
My stepson lovingly joked with me that I should be “one of those meticulous moms that keeps everything super organized.”
Though I haven’t perfected this parenthood thing, I do the cooking, the laundry, general tidying up, clean the cat litter, make sure homework, chores, and sports activities happen on time, and tuck the blankets tight at bedtime. Not too shabby.
When I mentioned these things to my stepson he said, “Yeah. Me and dad are lazy bums.”
I laughed and hugged him. Then, I did what any meticulous mom would do: I called dibs on the Xbox.
Though I haven’t perfected this parenthood thing, I do the cooking, the laundry, general tidying up, clean the cat litter, make sure homework, chores, and sports activities happen on time, and tuck the blankets tight at bedtime. Not too shabby.
When I mentioned these things to my stepson he said, “Yeah. Me and dad are lazy bums.”
I laughed and hugged him. Then, I did what any meticulous mom would do: I called dibs on the Xbox.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Overcoming Fear of My Own Family
One thing I learned in January is how important it is to find the good in what feels like an otherwise bad time.
When I lost my grandpa three weeks after losing my dog, all I could think is what next? How much can I take? What is the universe trying to tell me?
What I learned is that my family isn’t as weird as I envisioned and I am not a disappointment. That is a monumentally huge step for me.
Let me explain. I spend a lot of time worrying about other people. I worried about seeing family I haven’t seen a while, mostly about whether they would see me as a failure. A failure for taking too long to finish college, for already having a divorce behind me, for being in a second marriage already (with a stepson), for not going to church every Sunday, for the photo I sent at Christmas time which prompted a letter from my grandpa about having “breasts more modestly covered”- talk about humiliating. It’s an unbelievable amount of baggage I carry to any family meeting.
My family is quite spread out, so I don’t get to see everyone very often. It had been 5 to 10 years since I’d seen some of them. It’s almost like getting together with strangers.
The thing about going to see my family after grandpa’s passing is my mind was more absorbed with shock and grief than it was with worrying about my own insecurities or past “proof” of my ability to disappoint. (It seems almost laughably harsh as I write it now.)
My first stop (with my dad and stepmom) was to my uncle’s house, the one I hadn’t seen in 5 years. Entering their home I immediately felt comfortable. It felt safe. There were no pretenses. My aunt was the strong, welcoming person I remembered. My cousin, who I hadn’t seen in 10 years, was now a full-grown man with quiet sarcasm.
It was my uncle, though, that I really connected with. He was with my grandpa when things took their sudden downturn. Throughout lunch he tearfully explained what happened and what he was thinking every step of the way. Before we left I thanked him for sharing his story and for being with grandpa in his final moments.
At my grandmother’s house were my other uncles, aunt, and half of my cousins. The rest of my cousins, my stepbrother, and my stepsister arrived the next day and for the first time in at least 10 years, all of our family was together in one place.
My mom happened to be visiting my other grandma a few hours away. My two grandmas had been good friends until my one grandma moved. My mom offered to drive up one afternoon (seven hours roundtrip) so that she and grandma could be there for me and my other grandma.
I was touched at that generosity then worried about my parents being in the same room. Would it be awkward? Would my dad’s family want my mom there?
There was nothing to fear. Everyone got along. My mom talked to my aunt and my stepmom for more than an hour while my two grandmas visited. My cousins on my dad’s side talked about how great my grandma on my mom’s side was. It made me wonder what I really thought would happen.
I spent a lot of time with my family in those five days. I talked to all of them. And listened. Really listened.
We found camaraderie. My church-going cousins relayed what clothing had “gotten them in trouble” with grandpa and grandma. It wasn’t just me. There is nothing wrong with me.
We consoled each other. We caught up with each other. We laughed and we cried together.
We communicated in facial expressions and subtle eye movements, a language my husband affectionately named Martin speak. I never thought about it until then, but we all do that. A raised eyebrow from across the room is unmistakable.
One night as we talked, my uncle shared a sentiment he had read during cancer treatment a few years ago. He said, “You can’t stop misery from coming, but you don’t have to give it a chair to sit in.”
That’s exactly what I’ve been doing- letting misery sit and stay. My own worries have kept me down. The things I carry with me as permanent battle wounds can (and should) be shaken off.
It has taken me 32 years, but I realize now what an extraordinary family I have. I am not an outsider, nor am I a disappointment. I am a Martin. We fit just fine.
When I lost my grandpa three weeks after losing my dog, all I could think is what next? How much can I take? What is the universe trying to tell me?
What I learned is that my family isn’t as weird as I envisioned and I am not a disappointment. That is a monumentally huge step for me.
Let me explain. I spend a lot of time worrying about other people. I worried about seeing family I haven’t seen a while, mostly about whether they would see me as a failure. A failure for taking too long to finish college, for already having a divorce behind me, for being in a second marriage already (with a stepson), for not going to church every Sunday, for the photo I sent at Christmas time which prompted a letter from my grandpa about having “breasts more modestly covered”- talk about humiliating. It’s an unbelievable amount of baggage I carry to any family meeting.
My family is quite spread out, so I don’t get to see everyone very often. It had been 5 to 10 years since I’d seen some of them. It’s almost like getting together with strangers.
The thing about going to see my family after grandpa’s passing is my mind was more absorbed with shock and grief than it was with worrying about my own insecurities or past “proof” of my ability to disappoint. (It seems almost laughably harsh as I write it now.)
My first stop (with my dad and stepmom) was to my uncle’s house, the one I hadn’t seen in 5 years. Entering their home I immediately felt comfortable. It felt safe. There were no pretenses. My aunt was the strong, welcoming person I remembered. My cousin, who I hadn’t seen in 10 years, was now a full-grown man with quiet sarcasm.
It was my uncle, though, that I really connected with. He was with my grandpa when things took their sudden downturn. Throughout lunch he tearfully explained what happened and what he was thinking every step of the way. Before we left I thanked him for sharing his story and for being with grandpa in his final moments.
At my grandmother’s house were my other uncles, aunt, and half of my cousins. The rest of my cousins, my stepbrother, and my stepsister arrived the next day and for the first time in at least 10 years, all of our family was together in one place.
My mom happened to be visiting my other grandma a few hours away. My two grandmas had been good friends until my one grandma moved. My mom offered to drive up one afternoon (seven hours roundtrip) so that she and grandma could be there for me and my other grandma.
I was touched at that generosity then worried about my parents being in the same room. Would it be awkward? Would my dad’s family want my mom there?
There was nothing to fear. Everyone got along. My mom talked to my aunt and my stepmom for more than an hour while my two grandmas visited. My cousins on my dad’s side talked about how great my grandma on my mom’s side was. It made me wonder what I really thought would happen.
I spent a lot of time with my family in those five days. I talked to all of them. And listened. Really listened.
We found camaraderie. My church-going cousins relayed what clothing had “gotten them in trouble” with grandpa and grandma. It wasn’t just me. There is nothing wrong with me.
We consoled each other. We caught up with each other. We laughed and we cried together.
We communicated in facial expressions and subtle eye movements, a language my husband affectionately named Martin speak. I never thought about it until then, but we all do that. A raised eyebrow from across the room is unmistakable.
One night as we talked, my uncle shared a sentiment he had read during cancer treatment a few years ago. He said, “You can’t stop misery from coming, but you don’t have to give it a chair to sit in.”
That’s exactly what I’ve been doing- letting misery sit and stay. My own worries have kept me down. The things I carry with me as permanent battle wounds can (and should) be shaken off.
It has taken me 32 years, but I realize now what an extraordinary family I have. I am not an outsider, nor am I a disappointment. I am a Martin. We fit just fine.
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