Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.
“And if you can't be with the one you love, honey, Love the one you're with. Turn your heartache right into joy”---Love the one you’re with, band of your choice
Sometimes as Moms we go 90 million miles an hour taking care of our families, neighbors, co-workers, spouses and even our pets. We love everyone and we do everything for them. We get pushed to the back of the list. We forget to love the one we’re with---ourselves.
I’ll spend hours carefully pre-treating, soaking, scrubbing, folding and ironing laundry for the family. I separate the 3 kids carefully in their baskets and put DH’s away in his dresser. I’ll do this while talking on the phone with girlfriends, making doctors appointments, checking in with parents and paying bills. I’m cooking something on the stove, emptying the dishwasher, doing more laundry and taking care of the dog at the same time. I’ll even pick up windex and wipe off the TV.
Everyone gets carefully done laundry, except Mom. I woke up today, looking at the large pile again on my dresser. It never starts out that way, but in the middle of the night, a laundry monster comes and reproduces there. Mom just comes last or not at all. I can deal with the mess, but don’t ask others to. I tell myself it doesn’t matter.
In discussing housework with my friends, and our inability to keep to the standards our mothers seem to have had, a little know fact came to light. We all seldom clean our own room. Dusting in there becomes a feat only known to occur before the big Christmas party or summer barbecue or not at all. When I do get to it, I feel so charged. It’s invigorating for some reason. We seldom take care of ourselves the way we do our families.
Why is that?
When I have a bad day, and I need to recharge myself, my twins often give me a “twin hug.” They both get on one side of me and hug in. It feels so good. It’s love in the biggest form.
We all just need to give ourselves a twin hug now and again. Love yourself and then share the love. It feels good.
Showing posts with label life balance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life balance. Show all posts
Monday, September 17, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Heavy Metal Momma
Life Balance: When your life exists in such perfect harmony that the energy force within you is in sync with the heartbeat inside. A feeling of overwhelming strength, joy, laughter, love and intelligence that is older then time itself. The sense within you, that your very soul and spirit and divine wisdom are acting as one.
“I took my 13-year old to a heavy metal concert…and lived to tell about it”—Lunatic Mom on the Edge
21st century Moms often try to relax the tight standards they grew up under, in an effort to “bond’ with their children. I believe I crossed the line with this, when I agreed to accompany my son and his friend to a Rise Against Concert.
It all started innocently. After a stringent 2 months grounding and probation period for video taping kids on the bus, my son was desperately trying to suck up and get his life back. He was setting the table without being asked. He vacuumed and picked up the living room. He handed in his homework and didn’t get detention for 3 whole weeks. And then he said “I love you” to me on the phone. We seriously checked him for signs of drug use when he got home that night. We were worried he had crossed the line and we didn’t know how to get him back. He was acting normal. We couldn’t understand the change after the sullen, defiant, lazy child we had lived with for 3 years. We were investigating boot camps to pull him in line. I was calling places on my lunch hour to see who was open for the summer.
Then all this nice behavior didn’t make sense….until he slipped in a CD he burned into the radio when I was driving him to a friends house. Serious bouts of screaming they call music. “Turn it off, “I screamed. “No, Mom, give it a chance. Please. These are the groups I want to go hear in a few months.” What? Go to a concert? “Yes, they are playing close by. On a Friday night. And it’s only $20.” Please? If I pass all my courses, then can we go?”
I remember vaguely nodding yes. It was 2 whole months before the end of the year. This kid was not motivated by anything other then loss of computer IM time. It would never happen….but it did.
I waited until the last minute to buy tickets, hoping the concert would sell out. It didn’t of course. The day came. I was forced to go. It was 95 degrees out. I prayed for air conditioning. The Gods would not listen. It was a cheap remodeled retail store pretending to be a nightclub. I waited in line, listening to the PETA people sign up everyone. Now, I believe in causes….as long as they don’t inconvenience me. They were signing up people for chicken rights. Chicken. As if my $1000 per month food bill wasn’t enough. Really, it took lots of restraint in the 95 degree heat not to jump on them. But I remembered my motto, “You will not embarrass you son, behave.”
We move up the line to pick up the tickets, show our reservation and my credit card. The boys get big X’s on their arms showing they can’t drink. “You staying,” As if most Moms’ don’t bother. “Yup” and I got a fancy wrist band to show I was over 21 and free and white. Whoopee. We go inside, and scope out the area. 20 feet beyond the stage is a split rail fence with 2 slats. Behind the fence, on either side, are large cases to hold speakers, except they are empty. Terrific, Mom has found her spot to sit her carcass down for the 4-hour concert. The boys go front of the fence, away from Mom, so they can be “cool.” I have warned them about straying away from my eyesight. They can do it if they want, but there will be no more concerts if they do…and they are only 13.
So the concert proceeds. The first act is okay, but mostly they live to talk crude. Probably still virgins at the ripe old rock age of 40, but they sure can talk about having sex. Fine, nothing new. I just sit on my box and keep an eye on the Moshe pit. It’s moving around good, but the boys are staying clear. Good. People come and go on the fence or next to me on the speakers. I would love a beer, but don’t dare give up my spot. Next group, more of the same, slightly trashier, even older. Fine, nothing new here. I am drenched in sweat by now. The boys are just jumping up and down and yelling, drenched in the vigor of youth. They are having fun. I just smile and strain to watch them.
People surround me in tattoos, body piercing, leather and tight clothes. I didn’t even know you could pierce the back of your neck or get so many different tats above your derriere. Everyone is sweating, the Moshe Pit is going wild and water is flying. I am in my own little cocoon. Two older guys, with wrist bands, probably about 22, have taken up residence on the fence in front of me, I am thinking for good. One sits to the left of me on the fence, the other leaves a space for me to see the band, and then stands. They are a nice block for the Moshe pit, so I am glad. They have fun pushing obviously wasted kids that fall on them, back into the pit. It makes them laugh. A girl runs around taking pictures. She puts her camera in her back pocket. Next song, it’s of course on the floor. She moves on and doesn’t pick it up. The guy sitting on the fence hops off, and picks up the camera. Before I know what he is up to, he drops his pants and takes 3 pictures of his butt.
It’s been decades since I saw a prime 21 plus butt….Very nice. He does the front also, but alas, I miss out. Mom’s never get a break.
The main group, Rise Against, finally goes on stage. They sound very good, compared to what I have been listening too. I would like to actually enjoy them even though I am now drenched in sweat. The crowd goes wild, and the Moshe pit goes everywhere. It is sucking everyone in. I am grateful for the speaker stand. There is lots of room on the speaker stand, and throughout the night, people, mostly women, come sit next to me. This is fine, I don’t bite.
The Moshe pit is really in a tizzy now and everyone is acting wild. A guy grabs his girlfriend and starts gyrating his hips on her while dancing. Finally, he decides to pull her down on top to him, while lying next to me on the speaker. He is kissing her like wild, and I am sensing immediate danger. I am calculating how quickly I can swing my legs around and push the 2 of them off of me, when the Moshe pit finally pays off, and suck them into the crowd.
This heavy metal Mom was never so grateful for wild and crazy teens. The concert goes on, and finally ends at 11. I am dying, and I can just imagine the boys. It’s the encore, when my son’s friend Marc slowly goes around and grabs my arm. He is soaked. His voice is hoarse and barely audible. “Water, water, we need water. “Okay, let’s go. It’s over anyway.” And then barely crawl to the car. They sleep on the way home. And I laugh, and say “Wow, I lived through it.”
“I took my 13-year old to a heavy metal concert…and lived to tell about it”—Lunatic Mom on the Edge
21st century Moms often try to relax the tight standards they grew up under, in an effort to “bond’ with their children. I believe I crossed the line with this, when I agreed to accompany my son and his friend to a Rise Against Concert.
It all started innocently. After a stringent 2 months grounding and probation period for video taping kids on the bus, my son was desperately trying to suck up and get his life back. He was setting the table without being asked. He vacuumed and picked up the living room. He handed in his homework and didn’t get detention for 3 whole weeks. And then he said “I love you” to me on the phone. We seriously checked him for signs of drug use when he got home that night. We were worried he had crossed the line and we didn’t know how to get him back. He was acting normal. We couldn’t understand the change after the sullen, defiant, lazy child we had lived with for 3 years. We were investigating boot camps to pull him in line. I was calling places on my lunch hour to see who was open for the summer.
Then all this nice behavior didn’t make sense….until he slipped in a CD he burned into the radio when I was driving him to a friends house. Serious bouts of screaming they call music. “Turn it off, “I screamed. “No, Mom, give it a chance. Please. These are the groups I want to go hear in a few months.” What? Go to a concert? “Yes, they are playing close by. On a Friday night. And it’s only $20.” Please? If I pass all my courses, then can we go?”
I remember vaguely nodding yes. It was 2 whole months before the end of the year. This kid was not motivated by anything other then loss of computer IM time. It would never happen….but it did.
I waited until the last minute to buy tickets, hoping the concert would sell out. It didn’t of course. The day came. I was forced to go. It was 95 degrees out. I prayed for air conditioning. The Gods would not listen. It was a cheap remodeled retail store pretending to be a nightclub. I waited in line, listening to the PETA people sign up everyone. Now, I believe in causes….as long as they don’t inconvenience me. They were signing up people for chicken rights. Chicken. As if my $1000 per month food bill wasn’t enough. Really, it took lots of restraint in the 95 degree heat not to jump on them. But I remembered my motto, “You will not embarrass you son, behave.”
We move up the line to pick up the tickets, show our reservation and my credit card. The boys get big X’s on their arms showing they can’t drink. “You staying,” As if most Moms’ don’t bother. “Yup” and I got a fancy wrist band to show I was over 21 and free and white. Whoopee. We go inside, and scope out the area. 20 feet beyond the stage is a split rail fence with 2 slats. Behind the fence, on either side, are large cases to hold speakers, except they are empty. Terrific, Mom has found her spot to sit her carcass down for the 4-hour concert. The boys go front of the fence, away from Mom, so they can be “cool.” I have warned them about straying away from my eyesight. They can do it if they want, but there will be no more concerts if they do…and they are only 13.
So the concert proceeds. The first act is okay, but mostly they live to talk crude. Probably still virgins at the ripe old rock age of 40, but they sure can talk about having sex. Fine, nothing new. I just sit on my box and keep an eye on the Moshe pit. It’s moving around good, but the boys are staying clear. Good. People come and go on the fence or next to me on the speakers. I would love a beer, but don’t dare give up my spot. Next group, more of the same, slightly trashier, even older. Fine, nothing new here. I am drenched in sweat by now. The boys are just jumping up and down and yelling, drenched in the vigor of youth. They are having fun. I just smile and strain to watch them.
People surround me in tattoos, body piercing, leather and tight clothes. I didn’t even know you could pierce the back of your neck or get so many different tats above your derriere. Everyone is sweating, the Moshe Pit is going wild and water is flying. I am in my own little cocoon. Two older guys, with wrist bands, probably about 22, have taken up residence on the fence in front of me, I am thinking for good. One sits to the left of me on the fence, the other leaves a space for me to see the band, and then stands. They are a nice block for the Moshe pit, so I am glad. They have fun pushing obviously wasted kids that fall on them, back into the pit. It makes them laugh. A girl runs around taking pictures. She puts her camera in her back pocket. Next song, it’s of course on the floor. She moves on and doesn’t pick it up. The guy sitting on the fence hops off, and picks up the camera. Before I know what he is up to, he drops his pants and takes 3 pictures of his butt.
It’s been decades since I saw a prime 21 plus butt….Very nice. He does the front also, but alas, I miss out. Mom’s never get a break.
The main group, Rise Against, finally goes on stage. They sound very good, compared to what I have been listening too. I would like to actually enjoy them even though I am now drenched in sweat. The crowd goes wild, and the Moshe pit goes everywhere. It is sucking everyone in. I am grateful for the speaker stand. There is lots of room on the speaker stand, and throughout the night, people, mostly women, come sit next to me. This is fine, I don’t bite.
The Moshe pit is really in a tizzy now and everyone is acting wild. A guy grabs his girlfriend and starts gyrating his hips on her while dancing. Finally, he decides to pull her down on top to him, while lying next to me on the speaker. He is kissing her like wild, and I am sensing immediate danger. I am calculating how quickly I can swing my legs around and push the 2 of them off of me, when the Moshe pit finally pays off, and suck them into the crowd.
This heavy metal Mom was never so grateful for wild and crazy teens. The concert goes on, and finally ends at 11. I am dying, and I can just imagine the boys. It’s the encore, when my son’s friend Marc slowly goes around and grabs my arm. He is soaked. His voice is hoarse and barely audible. “Water, water, we need water. “Okay, let’s go. It’s over anyway.” And then barely crawl to the car. They sleep on the way home. And I laugh, and say “Wow, I lived through it.”
Friday, August 17, 2007
I once was a Size 6 and I can prove it
Life Balance
Life Balance: When your life exists in such perfect harmony that the energy force within you is in sync with the heartbeat inside. A feeling of overwhelming strength, joy, laughter, love and intelligence that is older then time itself. The sense within you, that your very soul and spirit and divine wisdom are acting as one.
“I know I’m going to lose all my weight now that I got rid of all my 6’s and 8’s. I just threw out 110 suits, my kids counted them”—frustrated dieter
Women judge themselves successful by the clothing they own, especially clothing in tiny little sizes they have not worn since the Reagan years. Even when we are busting out the doorways with a size 22 butt and bosoms to match, if we own size 6 Gloria Vanderbuilt jeans from 1982, then we are beautiful. We are part of the club that has been there once and that’s all that matters in life. We have the potential.
So we stuff our closets with beautiful clothes, some with the tags still on, for that size 6 body. It’s as if the body we used to have will magically appear one morning and we must have something on hand to fit the 24” pre-kids waist size. The Girl Scout inside of us won’t let the clothes go. Or maybe we keep the clothes around as a trophy, a permanent upturned middle finger gesture to one-up all the women who had never even been near a size 6 (me included).
I don’t know why it’s a truism, but just about every woman will tell you that started losing weight right after they decided to give away their “thin” clothes. It’s like the clothes were taunting them with loud chants of “Fatty! Fatty!” and they needed to suffocate the voice. Then, and only then, was it quiet enough for their brains to think and hear their true voice. The one that says, “You are beautiful, even now.”
For me, purging of the old clothes equals purging of the old thoughts, the old ways that don’t work for me anymore. It’s a way to get in touch with the woman I am NOW and to see her boundless potential going forward. And that’s the way it should be.
Life Balance: When your life exists in such perfect harmony that the energy force within you is in sync with the heartbeat inside. A feeling of overwhelming strength, joy, laughter, love and intelligence that is older then time itself. The sense within you, that your very soul and spirit and divine wisdom are acting as one.
“I know I’m going to lose all my weight now that I got rid of all my 6’s and 8’s. I just threw out 110 suits, my kids counted them”—frustrated dieter
Women judge themselves successful by the clothing they own, especially clothing in tiny little sizes they have not worn since the Reagan years. Even when we are busting out the doorways with a size 22 butt and bosoms to match, if we own size 6 Gloria Vanderbuilt jeans from 1982, then we are beautiful. We are part of the club that has been there once and that’s all that matters in life. We have the potential.
So we stuff our closets with beautiful clothes, some with the tags still on, for that size 6 body. It’s as if the body we used to have will magically appear one morning and we must have something on hand to fit the 24” pre-kids waist size. The Girl Scout inside of us won’t let the clothes go. Or maybe we keep the clothes around as a trophy, a permanent upturned middle finger gesture to one-up all the women who had never even been near a size 6 (me included).
I don’t know why it’s a truism, but just about every woman will tell you that started losing weight right after they decided to give away their “thin” clothes. It’s like the clothes were taunting them with loud chants of “Fatty! Fatty!” and they needed to suffocate the voice. Then, and only then, was it quiet enough for their brains to think and hear their true voice. The one that says, “You are beautiful, even now.”
For me, purging of the old clothes equals purging of the old thoughts, the old ways that don’t work for me anymore. It’s a way to get in touch with the woman I am NOW and to see her boundless potential going forward. And that’s the way it should be.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
The Gratitude Well
*Life Balance August 12, 2007*
Life Balance: When your life exists in such perfect harmony that the energy force within you is in sync with the heartbeat inside. A feeling of overwhelming strength, joy, laughter, love and intelligence that is older then time itself. The sense within you, that your very soul and spirit and divine wisdom are acting as one.
“Today I wish I was 25….Mom, don’t wish away 20 years of your life. If you were 25, I wouldn’t have been born yet”----Hannah, age 11 going on 100.
How can the daily well of gratitude replenish our spirit if our lives are so out of whack that we complain about everything?
When we are crushed for time, many things irritate us, and nothing seems to please us. I think God sends us reminders throughout the day to pull us back to the life of joy he intended for us, but we keep our blinders on and don’t see them. We perceive that we are in a never ending circle, when we really are on a road with a turn-off right around the corner. God will make me smile with a phone from my daughter Hannah, just calling to say good morning Mommy, and I will change instantly to a mid-life crisis moment, fueled by the heat of a menopause tsunami soaking my hair. And then I often find it impossible to feel any joy or peace.
I was thinking about gratitude the other day at work. It’s been much more pleasant to go to work everyday since I changed my attitude on how I view myself and my job. I used to feel downtrodden and defeated. Everything someone said or did reinforced this. But then I realized I was doing this to myself with my thoughts. So I traded up for better thoughts. Put flowers on my desk; built an inspiration wall right in my line of eyesight, so I can look at a good quote or a funny cartoon throughout the day. Cleaned up the clutter and stopped hanging on to useless piles of hard copy files when everything is electronic. I changed the radio to music from anger filled talk radio.
But I sometimes still feel bad….and wondered why. And then it hit me. Gratitude grows from living in the present, not in the world of the past or in the world of possibilities that can never be. God sends us a little dose of reality to remind us to enjoy now…and sometimes it’s in the voice of our children, who really are the precious gifts God meant them to be.
Life Balance: When your life exists in such perfect harmony that the energy force within you is in sync with the heartbeat inside. A feeling of overwhelming strength, joy, laughter, love and intelligence that is older then time itself. The sense within you, that your very soul and spirit and divine wisdom are acting as one.
“Today I wish I was 25….Mom, don’t wish away 20 years of your life. If you were 25, I wouldn’t have been born yet”----Hannah, age 11 going on 100.
How can the daily well of gratitude replenish our spirit if our lives are so out of whack that we complain about everything?
When we are crushed for time, many things irritate us, and nothing seems to please us. I think God sends us reminders throughout the day to pull us back to the life of joy he intended for us, but we keep our blinders on and don’t see them. We perceive that we are in a never ending circle, when we really are on a road with a turn-off right around the corner. God will make me smile with a phone from my daughter Hannah, just calling to say good morning Mommy, and I will change instantly to a mid-life crisis moment, fueled by the heat of a menopause tsunami soaking my hair. And then I often find it impossible to feel any joy or peace.
I was thinking about gratitude the other day at work. It’s been much more pleasant to go to work everyday since I changed my attitude on how I view myself and my job. I used to feel downtrodden and defeated. Everything someone said or did reinforced this. But then I realized I was doing this to myself with my thoughts. So I traded up for better thoughts. Put flowers on my desk; built an inspiration wall right in my line of eyesight, so I can look at a good quote or a funny cartoon throughout the day. Cleaned up the clutter and stopped hanging on to useless piles of hard copy files when everything is electronic. I changed the radio to music from anger filled talk radio.
But I sometimes still feel bad….and wondered why. And then it hit me. Gratitude grows from living in the present, not in the world of the past or in the world of possibilities that can never be. God sends us a little dose of reality to remind us to enjoy now…and sometimes it’s in the voice of our children, who really are the precious gifts God meant them to be.
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