I'm Known, But Sometimes I Would Just Rather Be Liked

I had a little light bulb moment today, aided by an article by a psychotherapist on the topic of relational communication. Don't stop reading because it sounds to nerdy and technical, because this article really has some very good nuggets to think about, and applies to everyone.

As I have written about previously, I struggle with relationships, and it is a source of immense frustration and continuing pain for me. It's particularly bewildering because I have struggled to understand why, and it's all to easy and tempting to think I must be flawed somehow. But this article had some insights that have begun to shed some constructive light on this issue for me.

The article entitled, "Would You Rather Be Known or Liked?", describes two types of individuals based on how they prefer to relate to others. Those who would rather be liked are invested in keeping their relationships peaceful, stressing commonalities, and they shy away from really revealing how they may feel about things in a effort to preserve this peace. Those who would rather be known, on the other hand, crave real and authentic conversations, even when there is disagreement, and they declare their positions to see how others will react.

The problems arise when a "liked" and a "known" are trying to communicate, and the article offers some useful tips for both types to carry on with the other.

What are your thoughts. Are you in the "liked" camp, or the "known" camp more predominantly? Considering your current relationships, do you think this is a factor in whom you feel most drawn to, or frustrated by?

Photo by shadphotos

Captain Mommy on Deck Makes Me Ill at Ease, But a Good Hug Means Fair Sailing

I'm cultivating a little more of an "attitude of gratitude" after delivering a little shakabuku action to myself while rereading what I've been writing lately.

An article about a new book caught my attention about cultivating happiness in your family's life. The author of Raising Happiness, Christine Carter says to ask yourself two questions:

1. When are you happiest with your kids?

2. What part of the normal day with your family routinely causes suffering?

My happiest moments with my kids tends to be when they wake up in morning, and sometimes even more so, from a good nap. In fact, I love, love, love, the things that come out of Big Kidlet's mouth when he wakes up from his afternoon nap. It's like busy little electricians have been furiously working on the wiring inside his little head, and when he wakes up the light switches have been flipped on. In the morning, I look forward to the moment when I open his door, and he pops up in his crib, unzips his crib tent (yeah, it's only for show these days), and fairly trumpets "Good Morning, Mama!" followed by all the things he can't wait to tell me. When I lift him from his crib we share a big hug, and recently I noticed that he has picked up my habit of humming while hugging. Now Little Kidlet also comes in with me, and he grins and wiggles to see his brother, and Big Bro Kidlet is equally excited and eager to get at him and insists on choosing one of his crib animals to share with his little bro while he's getting his diaper changed. In these moments I feel so incredibly blessed.

My hardest moments are in what I'll call the "have to" moments. "You have to wash your hands," "You have to climb into your carseat," "You have to let mama change your diaper." These are when my patience is at its most stretched, and usually it is exacerbated by an equally as impatient infant close by. When I forget, or am too lazy/distracted to build in extra time for Big Kidlet to move through these transitional times, that is when we suffer, and the meanie mommy monster muscles her way into the situation. I have a snarky habit of saying "aye, aye, Captain," to my husband when he gets bossy and commandeering, which is a not so veiled reference to my childhood with a Naval Captain. Well, truth be told, the anchor didn't fall too far from the ship. Madame Captain reporting for duty.

Where do you find the most joy with your kids in your daily routine? Where do you find the most woe?

I also read a quote that is post-up-prominently-in-my-house worthy:

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who matter don't mind, and those that mind, don't matter." ~Dr. Seuss

Write that down...

Photo from the George Eastman House Collection

Defusing the A-nger Bomb

The common saying is so disappointingly true, "you always hurt the one you love."

A lyric by the Mills Brothers referenced in an journal abstract captures it well:

You always hurt the one you love, the one you should not hurt at all;

You always take the sweetest rose, and crush it till the petals fall;

You always break the kindest heart, with a hasty word you can't recall;

So if I broke your heart last night, it's because I love you most of all.

I need to hit the "reset" button; I'm in a rut. I need to find a way to jettison the trained responses of my childhood coupled with the missteps of my adulthood, and chart a new road previously untaken with my kids.

I guess the biggest practice I can think to take each and every day is challenge myself in my most vulnerable moments, and ask: "who am I really angry with?" Nine times out of ten I would venture to say that it's not the kid in front of me.

I may have to revise that assessment when they are teenagers I realize.

Photo by gilesclement

It's Not All About You, Except When It Is

A few days ago I revealed a struggle that I have been having that I'm not to proud of. In that post, I referenced some people in my life that I'm sure would probably not appreciate being the subject of a post, and I'm sure would have their own perspective on things. They have not to my knowledge read this post, nor may they ever, but I felt I needed to say a few additional things about it regardless of whether they ever do or not.

My intent is never to hurt or embarrass anyone on purpose, or needlessly. I never view a blog as a vehicle to inflict harm on others. My blog is my perspective on things, it's my space to work things out. The goals I had for this particular blog was to be authentic and fearless, even when what I have to say isn't comfortable for myself or others. I fully expect that people will disagree with my view of things, and that is absolutely fine. My standard for myself is "am I being real?" That being said, I'll always endeavor to be careful to be mindful of others, and have a care for their privacy, and won't reveal details that are not mine to reveal.

As is common when one is in the throes of their emotional wave, once the seas calm and one reviews things with a more clear head, the impulse, for me anyway, is to smooth the raw bits, mitigate the intensity of my feelings on the page, because in my life I have always been afraid to really expose those ugly bits for fear of not being pleasing to others. I thought about altering it, so as to soften it, or taking it down entirely, and ultimately decided that I would edit some specifics out that don't take away from the overarching tone and purpose of the post. I struggled with deleting it altogether, but even though I'm not proud of those feelings and it's not easy on my heart, it pushes me forcibly ahead in one of my stated goals--"tackling fear," as well as developing my authorial authenticity. Every writer needs a good editor, and in this case my editor self came to bear to channel and refine some of that raw emotion the writer had spewed upon the page.

Now to speak to the specific contents of that post, with the benefit of a few days to think and hear feedback. One commentator (none of whom left comments here, lest you think I deleted them) shared that from their perspective, the common denominator was me, and that I was deferring blame to others for my issues with forming good relationships. Ouch, that hurt! But, what they didn't know is that that is precisely what I fear as well. It is precisely why I tend to put so much pressure on myself about these issues, and why it is such a raw nerve for me. But perhaps by focusing so much on my own reaction to what essentially happens everyday to many others as well, it diverts the attention away from something I feel, based on other feedback, I'm not alone in feeling in the community of women and mothers.

While others may be blessed with a true north, unshakable sense of themselves, and I know some like that, I think they are the exception. Most of us are trying to navigate uncertain seas and searching for buoys of friendship to give us something to anchor ourselves to. When you can't find those buoys you feel...adrift, and it gets hard to keep swimming. This is what I was trying to get at.

Outside a small bird is flinging itself at my window. I figured long ago that they see their own reflection and see it as the enemy, and so are attacking it repeatedly, even though each time they just hit a glass wall. A few have killed themselves this way over the years. They are fighting the reflection of what is essentially themselves, beating their wings at a perceived enemy, and some have killed themselves in their misguided delusion.

Being different is hard. Being yourself is hard. It's a defining challenge I continue to struggle to surmount. Finding a way through it is the best gift I can give to myself, and my children.

Beautiful photo by nickburlett

Mommy Needs a Punchclock

The house is dark, and while the Husband snores away, I see on the monitor that Big Kidlet is doing his best imitation of the stink bugs of my childhood spent in the desert, with his tush sticking straight up in the air. How he sleeps that way, lord only knows, but it sure is adorable. Here I sit, the dishwasher quietly humming, and although I would much rather be sitting here writing solo, with both hands for that matter, or maybe even the eyeglasses I've left on my bedside table, that's just not possible because I've got a Little Kidlet co-pilot who wants to alternate between nursing, gazing lovingly into my eyes, and talking my ear off at this late hour, in that order.

Who wouldn't love that? Well, I proclaim enthusiastically, I do, and also confess somewhat guiltily, I don't. By this time of day I'm ready to cry "I give!" and I gave, and now I need to be off duty. Except, you're never really "off duty."

This tweet caught my attention the other day, and which I re-tweeted:

"Having a baby dragged me, kicking and screaming, from the world of self-absorption."

Mhmmm, that about sums it up. But many days I'm still kicking and screaming.

Photo courtesy of the workroom

Pretty Little Boxes: Fitting in With Mommy Frenemies

Good lord, it's been almost a month! That's a big blogger no-no. It's not like I haven't had things to say, haven't in fact composed posts in my head, it's just been an intense and messy time for myself and my family. Little kidlet is just about to turn six months old, and is at that stage where he is aware, wants to participate, but can't yet do stuff, so he gets frustrated. Couple that with the fact that he wants mom right next to him at all times, especially when sleeping, and my routine of putting kids to bed and getting some creative time has been obliterated. I'm lucky if I get a hot, not lukewarm/cold, cup of tea most days. Also, truth be told, I'm not doing so hot on managing my time and tasks very well, and getting caught up in silly stuff of the moment. I've made some strides this week to reassert some order and rhythm, but I'm not quite there yet. In fact, there is the baby again, hold on a sec....

First the good stuff. I've made some progress to start the process of reducing the stuff in my house, and a major victory was working through an issue that my son was having at the program he attended while I have my weekly Bible study. I reached out, I stood up/spoke out for my kid, and things have gotten much better. In fact, I can say that we've had a pretty awesome streak this month of just really enjoying each other, and my fuse has been long and fairly flame retardant.

That was of course before the last few days. Now for the bad stuff. The storm that has been blowing in all day is now raging outside, and a similar storm is also happening inside. My fuse has been very short the last two days, and it's not the kids' fault. It's mine.

I promised myself I would be real in this endeavor, even when it was uncomfortable, so here goes. I have never, and continue to not play well with others. I find it frankly self indulgent and pathetic that by this time in my life I somehow continue to find myself in patterns of trying to fit in, failing at it, and having my feelings hurt because I don't. I really thought (hoped) that by this time in my life that this kind of stuff would have been resolved, but no. It is my least favorite part of being a woman...other women. Sure men can make me all kinds of crazy, but no one is able to really cut me deeply as another woman, either intentionally, or unintentionally. I think that is why I have always been a little afraid of having a daughter--the prospect of helping her navigate through things that I clearly still do not understand how to navigate through myself.

I've been struggling to fit in boxes all my life. "Fitting in" has been a pretty consistent wall I've banged my head into. I just don't, and there are many days I'm really happy and proud of that fact. But there are times when I sincerely wish I could just manage to contort myself to squeeze myself in.

The particular boxes I've been struggling with recently are the kind one encounters when one becomes a mother in community with other mothers. These boxes can be really pretty little things, but the inside, well just say it's not always as advertised. Join the "club," "tribe," "community," receive "support," "encouragement," "acceptance." Open the lid, and don't be surprised when in fact at moments you feel anything but the aforementioned benefits of walking the mommy path with other women.

What hurts me is continually putting myself out there, but not really getting much in return, or feeling downright excluded in many cases. Forming relationships, intimate or casual, is not a strength of mine, but for the sake of my kids (I tell myself) I continue to try. When it comes to my children, it would be a whole lot easier on them I tell myself if I just could get into line with those around me, assimilate. I do well for a while, but then inevitably I let that particular mask slip a bit, and I get hurt and disappointed that I'm dooming my kids to ostracism forever as the children of "that mother." And let's face it, the only person who deludes themselves that the mask is actually fooling anyone is me, myself, and I.

Many times, and even now I wonder why do I bother. Move on, better off without them. But, you can only move on so many times. These are the kids that my kids will know as they grow; I'll be in contact with them for years to come. I think it's important to find a way to peacefully coexist so that my kids don't suffer from having "that mother." I know this intimately, because my own mother was in many ways "that mother." (ahhh, now we get to the meat of it you may be telling yourself) My mother was also "different." She dealt with it by withdrawing and giving other moms and the mommy culture the proverbial bird. I was already unique enough all on my own, add in a mom who also didn't play by the mainstream rules, and it did feel like an added burden. And let's be real, your baggage often gets put on your kid, and how others perceive them, and undeservedly so. I have felt like doing the same thing as my mom repeatedly, although not as overtly, because she is far more bold than I am. And, I really don't want that for my own kids, and I don't think it really solves much for me either. So I continue to try and work it out.

I did get a bit of provident help with this. Also in my in box was the latest GOOP newsletter. For those of you who don't know, GOOP is the personal blog/website for the actress Gwyneth Paltrow. She's gotten plenty of criticism for her blog and what she puts out there, but all in all, I generally enjoy what she sends out. This issue dealt with the timely-for-me topic of "friendship divorce." She often invites "expert" commentators to contribute on topics, and in this issue they focused on how to manage friendships that are no longer working.

I hear with clarity the words of Cynthia Bourgeault:

"The more we can take responsibility for our own emotional well-being, the more we can live comfortably in our own skin, the more friendship can become what it is truly meant to be — whether for the whole of our life or just the miracle of the present: the spontaneous overflowing of our uniquely human capacity for intimacy, compassion, and joy."

It is not the responsibility of other people to like and accept me. I get that. They either do or they don't. But I need to assess how much I can handle, and what degree of relationship is acceptable to me. I also hear the words of Michael Berg:

"If we have a friend that makes us feel worthless, hurts us, or doesn’t enable us to grow and actually makes us feel bad, then clearly that’s a friendship and environment we don’t want to subject ourselves to. We have the responsibility to diminish that friendship. Not only isn’t it serving its purpose, it can have a detrimental effect on us."

He goes on to say that he feels one should not cut someone out of one's life, but diminish their role in it.

Ultimately, I think it will be a day to day assessment, and adjustment of my expectations. I think I will just have to find a median way that acknowledges that these are just women with whom I occasionally gather to let my kids play with others and exchange some chitchat, and not expect any one of them to become bosom friends of my heart.

There, I feel a little better.

How do you handle being on the fringes of the female/mommy culture? How do you make things easier for your kids when you don't particularly enjoy their friend's parents?

Photo courtesy of lonesome-stranger

**For a follow-up to this post go here

The Checkout Line: Bread, Milk, Cheese, Self Worth

I don't know if this is your experience, but I tend to reach for my writing pen, virtual or otherwise, most often when I'm not in a good place. I think overall it's to find a place to vent it, to look at it a little closer (read: over analyze it with a view towards blowing it into an international incident), or just to hear myself yell. It doesn't take a psychoanalyst to puzzle out why I use this device--as a kid if I uttered what I was really thinking and feeling I was liable to get smacked. Hence, railing somewhat uselessly at the blank page commenced early on. Nevertheless, the fact that I feel like I'm bitching so much really rankles me. Yes, I'm bitching, about bitching.

For many years now I've had an etched plaque with a saying that has sustained me through many a rough patch. In fact, when my husband and I were in our early relationship, going through some pretty world rocking stuff, I fairly drove him nuts with each and every utterance of this sage advice: "Very little is needed to make a happy life. It is all within yourself, in your way of thinking." I'm sure he appreciated hearing it repeatedly very much, but we survived it, so, annoying--yes, but also useful. What you choose to give your attention to does often determine the direction of your life.

So today I want to bitch and moan about some pretty trivial, but nevertheless making me angst ridden stuff, but I choose to write about something else.

Today, I took Big Kidlet on a walk and I needed to go to the grocery store afterwards. He's not a nightmare in a grocery store, but it's pretty much like wheeling around a wild motormouth octopus some days. I've resolved to let up the reins a bit now that he's approaching three and is exhibiting some better listening skills, and a modicum of impulse control. In other words there is a slight stutter step while he thinks about it before he runs into traffic; a glimmer of a reasonable being is emerging. It's not easy for me. Did I mention that my mother thinks that really there was no problem using a dog run as a playpen when I was a kid? Yes, my example has been a clear owner/owned kind of paradigm, so although I resist it, I have to school the instincts every living day as I make my way through early parenthood.

Anyway, so back to the grocery store. As we approach the store he asks/tells me that he wants to "walk himself" today inside the grocery store. Previously my response pretty much can be summed up as an automatic with alacrity, brooking no argument whatsoever, "no way, no how, not gonna happen." But, these days I'm being a lot more aware of when I decide not to let him try simply because it might be a huge hassle for me. I'm looking long term these days. So I said, "sure, with a few ground rules," which we took a moment to review before we entered. To mark the occasion, I led him over to the "customer-in-training" mini shopping carts, which I previously had jealously eyed when other cute little children sedately (to my eyes) wielded them through the aisles after their (to my eyes) relaxed parents, and regarded as absolutely unrealistic in my lifetime for my spirited little boy. I can't describe the look on his face. I wish I could have a snapshot of it to remind myself each time I decide that he can't do something.

Aside from having a minor coronary every time he came in range of a wine bottle display (seriously this place seemed like it was wall-to-wall wine bottles!), he more or less walked behind me, full of pride, as I placed our groceries in his basket. It was a thing of beauty. He proudly stood in line , handed the groceries to the checker, and generally looked to stand about a foot taller.

It was a good lesson. For today that plaque in my mind says: "Very little is needed to make a happy kid, it's all within themselves, when they are allowed to try, and know they can."

Funny, all those little bitchy things I wanted to write down are like vivid dreams that become hazier and a vague echo upon waking and getting on with it. And my day with my kids has been a lot easier.

• Macro Goal: Be present for my kids, and do some personal remodeling.
• Micro Goal: Be aware that I and my kids are what I choose to focus on. Try and focus not on how much my kids need to test their boundaries can be a pain in my tuckus, but on how great it is that they don't have fear to do so.

Photo by beardenb