ML Interest Tag: introvert

I Can Be an Introvert and an Incredible Mom—Despite What I’ve Told Myself

By Amy Jorgensen

I am an introvert. Basically, I like quiet. I like to be alone. I like peace. And I’m a mom.

As you can imagine, being an introvert and being a mom don’t always mix. Introverts breathe in solace and breathe out society. Being around people, even little people, expends our energy. That doesn’t mean we hate it; it’s just tiring. ​Being alone restores us.

But finding sufficient alone time isn’t the only hard thing about being an introverted mother. I have a whole list: I hate playdates. Having them isn’t the issue. It’s setting them up: coordinating, scheduling, remembering, driving… Even when someone invites my kids to their house, it stresses me out. Ridiculous, I know. Especially because most of my children’s friends are my friends. And I love my friends. But here we are.

Doing cool stuff with my kids stresses me out. I mean, I can’t even buy groceries without worrying my children will be kidnapped (which unfortunately isn’t an illogical fear anymore). So why would I subject myself to a zoo or museum? We have a small list of comfort zones: home, the farm, grandma’s, the mountain, the ranch, and sometimes Hobby Lobby.

The idea of my child, let alone more than one, being in sports/dance/music lessons that require me to consistently drive them somewhere, remember things, and interact with other adults gives me major anxiety.

I don’t like to do my girls’ hair. Yes, I have four daughters and I don’t like doing their hair. Well, I like doing the baby’s hair. But everyone else cries or complains or tries to run away, and it all just becomes a fight. And I’m not really good at doing hair anyway so it never quite turns out how we imagine. Grandpa Todd started calling three-year-old Adeline “Tarzan” because she has long wild hair and is usually half-naked. It’s fine. Might as well be wild and half-naked while you can.

And I especially hate bedtime. The whole to-do list of bedtime. PJs. Teeth. Homework. The “you said we could…” or “we forgot to…”s. Ugh. The begging for snuggles and stories and heart-to-hearts while I’m exhausted and so done. All made worse by the anticipation of that quiet, peaceful, alone time I’ve been craving is enough to make me crazy.

I used to feel immense guilt for hating playdates and hair and bedtime. Over time, I started to deeply believe that I wasn’t a good mother. Everyone else seemed to do these things easily, so I thought that I should, too. I should put my kids in every available sport/class. I should have a play date for each child several times a week. I should learn how to do fancy hairdos. I should read to my kids before bed. I should snuggle with them. I should take them on dates. I should do more. I should be more.

The should list grew, and so did the stress and anxiety. I became the awful mother I believed I was. Then one night, my husband and I were able to get away and go to a movie without the kids: Avengers: Endgame. It was late, and I would have preferred sleeping, but I fought to keep my eyes open (because how often do you go to a movie without kids?), and I’m so glad I did.

Thor, or rather, the heavy, depressed, broken, and aimless version of Thor, goes back in time and runs into his mother. She says something at that moment that hit me so hard it felt like a physical blow. “Everyone fails at who they are supposed to be.” EVERYONE FAILS AT WHO THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE. EVERYONE. FAILS. AT. WHO. THEY. ARE. SUPPOSED. TO. BE.

I was trying to be who I thought I was supposed to be. I thought I was supposed to have playdates like Ashley. I thought I was supposed to do amazing hairdos like Kristy. I thought I was supposed to put my kids in every sport available like Lisa. I thought I was supposed to gently love my children to sleep every night like Marissa. I thought I was supposed to do cool stuff with my kids like Kara. I thought I was supposed to be something I’m not. No wonder I felt like I was failing.

So now, I’m being brave and working on playdates, but we don’t have them often, and that’s okay. I’ve learned a few hairstyles, but we keep it pretty and simple. I’m teaching my older girls to brush their own hair so I don’t have to. And that’s okay. We’ve signed our kids up for a few classes so they can learn what they like, but we also recognize all the amazing unique things they already do and get to experience. And it’s all okay. And bedtime. I don’t read bedtime stories; we read earlier. My older girls and I use a mommy & me journal to write down all those heart-to-hearts, and we love sneaking them under each other’s pillows. Each night we pray and kiss goodnight and that’s it. And that’s okay.

We do things differently than the Ashley’s and Kristy’s and Kara’s and that’s okay. My kids are happy. They are fulfilled and loved and thriving. And now so am I. I’m not failing because I’m learning to embrace myself, to be myself. I am an introvert—and a great mom.

Originally published Oct 2021.

Amy is a creator and believes everyone else is too. She strives to be artistic in all areas of life but writing is her passion and her family is her masterpiece. She uses her blog to address the joys and struggles of motherhood and is currently writing her first novel.

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How to Raise an Introverted Child in an Extroverted World

by Christine Lai

Fellow parents were texting me in full-blown panic: “How is K doing?!? Is she hating it?!” We had just started remote distance learning and a flurry of texts came flashing over my cell phone. I peered over at my content daughter, happily typing away at her laptop and thought, “This is an introvert’s dream come true!”

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To understand the introverted child, it's important to understand this: scientists believe that the introverted brain is one that is sensitive to the neurotransmitter dopamine because it has fewer receptors. In plain talk: too much dopamine through social stimulation, excitement and activity causes the introverted child to feel overwhelmed. This is why introverts prefer calm, quiet activities such as reading, writing or enjoying the company of one or two trusted friends as opposed to the social hubbub of larger gatherings. Introverts are born this way; there's nothing wrong with them—this is how they are wired.

 

Magical Daydream

In a society that encourages outgoing behavior and children to speak up and participate in classrooms, introverts are sometimes mistaken as shy, lacking confidence, weird or even troubled. With guidance, introverted children can flourish and thrive in a gregarious society. Over the years on my parenting journey, I have found a few tips that have been helpful for me, as an extrovert, in raising an introverted child.  Although parenting is never a one-size-fits-all plan or formula, I hope that you might find one or two helpful tidbits below and if you have pearls of wisdom for me, I’d love to hear from you as well! 

Accept and Embrace Your Introverted Child

Little kids crowd around a birthday cake at home while one blows out a candle
iStock

It was the Nth birthday party in which K spent the entire duration at my side, clinging to my leg instead of socializing with her peers. “She’s tired, we’ve had a long week” I offered as a way of explanation yet again. Back at home, K happily played at her train table and with LEGOS. Why do I bother taking her to these parties? Why can’t she be more like Gabriella, the pre-school crowned “Mayor” I wondered? As an extrovert, I was exasperated and wanted K to be more like the other affable, talkative kids and also... well, like me.

I am ashamed to say that I both misunderstood K in her early years and also had a hard time accepting she wasn’t more outgoing. I tried desperately to galvanize her social calendar through arranging playdates and throwing large, lavish birthday parties—my idea of a good time, not hers. My advice to myself back then would be this: it’s ok for your kid to cling to your leg at social gatherings and it's ok to have small, quiet birthday parties or (gasp!) not have one at all. Bigger and louder is rarely (if ever) desirable for the easily overwhelmed introverted child. 

Provide a Safe Space (Both Literally & Figuratively & Respect That Space)

All children need safe spaces to retreat to but introverted children need them even more. While an extrovert may welcome you into their space, most often, the introvert will not. K sometimes spends hours in her room reading and drawing with the door closed and if left to her own devices, would happily stay in her room all day so long as three meals a day appeared outside her door. 

One day, K had her nose stuck in a book and was getting ready to head upstairs for yet another long afternoon on her own. Suddenly, she turned and announced, “Actually, I feel like company right now” and proceeded to flop on the couch next to me. The two of us continued our books in comfortable silence. I have found that giving K room and space to withdraw and recharge gives her the bandwidth to voluntarily and even proactively engage with others. 

Encourage Self-Expression Outlets 

Most introverts will tell you that they love reading; many are prolific but K took it to another level. Having taught herself to read, K was reading chapter books by kindergarten and tackling classics by second grade. Other quiet activities she loves to do alone are drawing, writing stories, origami, crafts and sewing. K also enjoys composing music and delights in any time spent in front of a piano. Again, self-expression is essential for all children but introverted children will gravitate towards ones that are done in solitude. Accept. Embrace. 

Know When to Push

American Camp Association

Fact: Introverts need to be goaded and coaxed into social gatherings and physical activity that require exiting the house. I have spent countless hours mentally preparing K for new (or old!) social situations. Be flexible and choose your battles. Allow extra time for mental prep. Sometimes a compromise might involve leaving early or not going to one gathering but promising to go to the next. You know your child best and know when they need a firm nudge. 

Recently, K joined our church’s youth group. We talked beforehand about what to expect and when we pulled up, she asked to be dropped off instead of being walked in as we previously agreed on. I watched as she exited the car, took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and headed into a courtyard full of strangers...anxious but determined. Our journey continues to this day and we are constantly figuring out ways to help her navigate our increasingly loud world but in that one moment, my sweet, brave girl had never made me prouder.

—Christine Lai

featured photo by Soccer Shots

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Helping Kids Re-Enter Their Post-Pandemic World

28 Phrases to Help Calm An Anxious Kid

27 Little Things That Mean the World to Your Kids 

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Friends, I Feel You

By Ali Flynn

friends

Friends,

If you are worried and lay awake, in the wee hours of the night…I feel you.

If you are feeling a bit isolated and miss seeing a friend…I feel you.

If your home is missing the sweet spot of laughter from family and friends…I feel you.

If you miss eating at your favorite restaurant for date night…I feel you.

If you are scared a loved one can’t find a location for a vaccine…I feel you.

If you are lonely…I feel you.

If you love this time alone and your introverted self is smiling…I feel you.

If you miss the hustle and bustle on the streets, whether you live in a big city or a small town…I feel you.

If you are holding in your family’s emotions day after day and keeping it all in check, but about to lose it at any minute…I feel you.

If you are out of ideas for dinner and have lost your desire to cook…I feel you.

If you are hoping each day your children’s activities can begin so they have an outlet…I feel you.

If you are surviving on insurmountable amounts of coffee to get you through the day…I feel you.

If algebraic expressions have caused you to break out again like a teenager…I feel you.

If you hear the word Zoom one more time and want to scream or wipe it out of your vocabulary…I feel you.

If you are yearning for your kiddos to use paper and a pencil again, for fear they have forgotten how to write…I feel you.

If you worry about your kid’s happiness…I feel you.

If joy isn’t entering your soul as often as it once did…I feel you.

If the silver linings allow joy to seep in at every moment possible…I feel you.

If you miss the days of meeting a friend at the local coffee shop and talking for hours at the tiny table in the corner…I feel you.

If you are happy but feel a piece of you is missing…I feel you.

If you see a new independence within your child, as they navigate online learning and see life lessons emerging…I feel you.

If you see your child depending on you each day, to hold their hand to get through the day of online learning…I feel you.

If each day is a struggle with online learning taking over, emotions running high, and arguments flying all over…I feel you.

If you are feeling a bit depleted and lost…I feel you.

Friends, it’s hard… I feel you. I see you. I am with you.

Let’s all lean in on each other. Through each other’s strength and support, we will be lifted and rise above.

There is a light.

I see the flicker and I am following the glimmer, with a heart full of hope.

This post originally appeared on Hang in there mama.

 

 

Ali Flynn Is excited to share with you the joys and hardships of motherhood with an open heart, laughter and some tears. Ali is a monthly guest contributor for Westchester County Mom  and has been seen on Filter Free Parents, Grown and Flown, Today Parents and Her View From Home.

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Making It through 2020 with a Whole Lotta Grace (& Acceptance)

By Tracy Shaw

Photo: Amazon

I like to give advice.

I created a blog all about offering advice, on everything from making Christmas ornaments to eating more vegetables.

But most of the time when I give advice, I’m really giving it to myself. Because I really need it.

It’s no secret that 2020 has been a dumpster fire. For some people more than others. And for many people, it has been way worse than it has been for me. So I want to preface this all by saying I am not special. I did not lose a loved one or my job. I have not spent countless hours on the front lines helping others to the sacrifice of my own health (physical and mental). My heart breaks for those who have.

But however big or small your hardships have been this year, I think we can all benefit from calling it the dumpster fire that it’s been. And giving ourselves a whole lotta grace for, however, we’re making it through.

2020, for me, started off pretty good. I ran my first marathon with my best friend in the happiest place on Earth. And I spent a hectic yet fulfilling weekend at a theatre festival seeing my child come alive in their expression of the arts and friendships with good people.

Then I was diagnosed with a stress fracture which didn’t just curtail my running schedule, it literally took me off my feet. I wasn’t able to walk—at all—for 10 weeks. And on top of that, a deadly pandemic quarantined the whole country, kept us cooped up at home, and isolated us from friends and family and our normal way of life.

I think it’s been vastly understated how this has really affected all of us. I’m an introvert and even I was waylaid by the isolation and anxiety of the quarantine and ongoing fear of the pandemic. The fact that I couldn’t even walk, sent me spiraling even lower.

But a lot of us put on a brave face. So well so, that others don’t know we’re hurting and need help. We self medicate with food, booze, tv binging, pick your poison. And many of us don’t even realize it’s happening. Another glass or another show is cloaked in self-care. And that’s totally necessary. And what I’m mainly preaching in this article is that it’s ok to do that and give yourself grace for it.

But when we slide into that day after day, month after month, it starts to take a toll. And one day you look in the mirror and you’re sickened or saddened or pissed off about how you got to this point—with more pounds or your body or bags under your eyes or fewer healthy relationships in your life.

I did see it happening to me, all along the way. Because It’s happened before.

Four years ago I quit my job to move to Florida with my family and be a stay-at-home mom. My career had been my identity to that point, for nearly 20 years. I spiraled quickly.

The common denominator between four years ago and 2020, is that I completely lost sight of who I was. When I stopped being a successful, highly paid manager in a high-stakes profession I didn’t know who to be next. This year, when I stopped being an extremely active runner who was always on the move, I didn’t know who to be next.

I’m only now slowly starting to find my way back. I did it four years ago. And I may do it again sometime in the future.

But as we close out this tragedy of a year, I try to hold on to that grace I always preach that you need to give yourself. I’m trying to find hope that the pounds will come off, that I’ll feel like properly getting dressed and fixing my hair again, that I’ll find a new identity again—this time being even wiser and kinder to myself than before.

So the advice I’m giving to you—and to myself—is not to assume that where you are, is who you are. There are seasons. They pass. And a new one always dawns.

Tracy Shaw is a mom of two, wife, veteran journalist turned stay-at-home mom and saver. Check out some of her tips for having fun and staying healthy on a budget at www.FrugalFloridaMom.com.

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Mom, Are Dead People Dead Forever?

By Teresa Lagerman

There’s been quite a bit of talk about death at our house lately. It hasn’t been prompted by anybody’s funeral—it’s just a natural rite of passage, part of growing up and realizing that, well, you’re alive. You keep having birthday parties every year, and your rudimentary math skills and interactions with great grandparents suggest that one day you’ll be very old like them, and very old people eventually die. Long gone are the days when you firmly believed that people lived to be 100 years old, and after that, they became babies again.

When I was the same age as my kids, around 9 or 10, I remember being freaked out by the same realizations. I went to my parents, as one does at that age, certain that they’d have all the answers. But my parents basically dismissed my fears, I guess in an effort to make me forget about them. They seemed almost amused that I was upset, which made me feel embarrassed. No reason for me to worry about that, death was part of life, they said, and that was that. So I did what most introverted kids would do—I sucked it up and didn’t mention it again, and tried to figure things out on my own.

My parents’ heart was in the right place, but their reaction did nothing to soothe my anxiety. Dealing with those fears at a young age isn’t easy, and I was determined that when I had kids, I would listen to them and help them sort things out. By that time, I figured, I would have all the answers, I would share my adult wisdom with my kids, and everything would be just fine.

Now that I’m an adult with children of my own, I don’t have as many answers as I’d like, but I have earned my humble share of wisdom. One of the things my kids have taught me is that, as much as we’d love for them to be happy all the time, they are people, not fragile figurines, living in the real world. It can be scary, but being honest with them is always a better route than dressing everything up with fairytales and marshmallows. My goal has always been for my children to never be embarrassed to come to me with questions or fears. Which is a wonderful goal when most of what you’ve had to deal with is along the lines of monsters under the bed, but one evening recently, as I was tucking my youngest into bed, he blurted this one out:

“Are dead people dead forever?”

We had been talking about The Beatles just a minute before, discussing why Ringo Starr chose to change his name from Richard Starsky. You don’t see these conversations coming, because children often jump from one thought to the next with a speed that I can’t match no matter how many cups of coffee I pour in the morning. So you don’t get that moment of, “ah, yes, let’s talk about that,” when you sit your kiddo on your lap and you launch into your well-thought-out speech, which is emotional but grounded, beyond soothing, and will comfort them for the rest of their lives.

No, it doesn’t go like that. Instead, you’re at the very edge of a twin bed, holding a dog-eared book on your lap. You are way more tired than he is. But that’s the thing about parenthood, you have to be on your toes and ready to go to bat at all times.

So you hold him close and you answer honestly — yes, dead people are dead forever. And that’s okay. What you need to know is that life is a gift. We can choose to complain and be unhappy, or we can make the most of our gift. Living is the only thing we know how to do. So I would say, let’s get really good at that. And let’s treasure the people we love, while we have them and long after they’re gone. Let’s honor them by learning from them, carrying their memories and lessons with us, and loving every minute of this awesome gift we have.

The worst thing we can do with tough conversations is to answer their questions by not answering them. Evasive, vague stories and niceties don’t work with children. They might not see right through you today, but they will eventually. If a child is asking if dead people are dead forever, telling her that we keep uncle Tony alive in our thoughts is only going to leave her confused. It might tie her over for a while, but the thing is, kids are people. Eventually, as we all do, they figure things out. And they value honesty. Meeting them at an age-appropriate level and being honest, reassuring, and kind is the best seed we can plant for our kids to confidently go on to find answers on their own.

“Is bisabuela gonna die soon?” asked my youngest about my 91-year-old grandmother. Again, this one comes completely out of nowhere, as we’re walking back from school. He had just been telling me about the bean and tomato dip they made in the classroom. It’s hard to know where to start when you’re caught off guard. When in doubt though, it always works to simply answer the question. So I told him that nobody knows when they’re going to die, but bisabuela will likely die in a few years as her health is not what it used to be. She’s one heck of a tough cookie though, so we get to enjoy her company for a while longer still. I told him I’m so happy that he gets to spend time with her, and that she absolutely loves it every time she sees him. He said he would be sad when she dies, and I said I would be sad too.

And with that, he was satisfied and moved on to lobbying for a snack as soon as we got home.

 

This post originally appeared on Medium.

Brooklynite transitioning to village life // Mom to two curious souls // Brand strategist + writer // Musing about donuts 60% of the time

   
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The Birth of a Mother

By Amy Jorgensen

I’m 34 weeks pregnant. This little one is my fourth baby, fourth daughter. I’ve been reflecting lately. The things I’ve missed. The time lost. The tenderness and love. What I hope to do better. My first daughter was born when I was only 19 years old. After she was born, I was changed. I’m sure only I noticed, but it was undeniable. I was no longer a child. I was a woman. A mother had been born.

I was a young mother, and I made plenty of mistakes. But with Olivia, it was all about the magic. I read chapter books to her while she nursed. I carried her all over the farm during lambing season, watching her daddy work. I shared with her my love for rocks. Fostered a wonder in bleached bones and wildflowers. Taught her how to make wishes on dandelions and feel the colors of the sunset. We explored peacefully, quietly, in our introverted way. By the time she was 3, some family members began to question her mental health. Rumors were spread and conversations had without anyone voicing their concerns to me. I felt betrayed and defensive. And testing and doctor visits confirmed what I knew: no issues.

Again, I was changed. A new kind of mother had been born. A protective mother. I had been burned by other’s well-intentioned advice which led me down a path of discovery. I discovered I was worthy. I discovered I was the most important person in my daughter’s life. I discovered that God sent her to ME because He trusted ME to be in her corner. 

I discovered that every mother feels she is an expert, but they forget how they came to feel that way. They forget the many “births” they endured to know what they know. The thing about birth though, is it isn’t transferable. It’s wholly personal. Each mother, and child, must endure her own. So, as I planned my next birth, I politely ignored the pressure-filled advice and counsel of those who had gone before. Their success and failures were not mine and I refused to hold their weight.  

​Joslynn’s pregnancy was hard, but her birth was beautiful. It was calm and peaceful and perfect. Her birth changed me. A new kind of mother was born. A mother that was empowered. A mother that knew she could do hard things. A mother that understood the process. A mother that felt completely in control.  Perfection became my mantra. We followed all the rules. I was in control. I realized the mistakes I had made as that young inexperienced mother and I was ready to do better. To be better. 

Baby #3 was also a girl. Instead of disappointment, all we felt was joy. At 31 weeks I began to have consistent pre-term contractions, which can cause premature birth. After many scary nights and several hospital trips, our awesome midwives and doctors were able to stop the contractions. At 35 weeks baby girl stopped growing. The hospital visits and doctor appointments seemed endless. At 38 weeks our oldest broke her collar bone, at 39 weeks we were induced. Somehow, we survived the chaos and brought home a healthy baby girl. I had changed again. Through all the chaos, a new kind of mother was born. I realized I wasn’t in control at all. The relief of finally holding my healthy 3rd daughter in my arms, safe and sound, spurred a deep desire to enjoy every tiny moment. We were all completely smitten with little Adeline. We held her too much and loved on her constantly. Then entered joy. Instead of trying to control everything to make sure it was perfect, I realized it already was. And I learned to sit back and breathe all that joy in. 

When I first became a mother, I thought that my own identity would be easily set aside for this higher purpose. That I would happily lose myself. And for a long time, I did. But suppressing parts of a soul never lasts. The child I lost when I became a mother was me. And her emergence was inevitable. I lost the magic when I gained the perfection. I lost perfection when I gained joy. And I lost all joy when I realized being a mother wasn’t enough. I fought it deeply. I felt endlessly guilty for losing the magic, the perfection, the joy. For the “I don’t know’s.” The “maybe later’s.” The “not today’s.”  The exhaustion. The impatience. The frustration. Being a mother should be enough. But I wasn’t.  It was time to give birth to myself, to my passions, my talents, my own magic and joy. It took time. Like any birth, it was a process, filled with pain. But in that process, I was changed. A new kind of mother was born. This mother found her magic, her joy. And now she can again share it with her daughters. I still carry the weight of my failures; I can’t change the past or get back the time lost. But I am not the same mother I once was. I’ve endured many births and though each different, each was necessary. I am now a mother that nurtures herself alongside her children. And I hope that when my daughters see me paint instead of fold laundry, or leave them to spend time with friends or say no to a playdate to practice self-care, they will learn.

I hope that they will learn that being a good mother isn’t losing yourself, it’s finding yourself. Finding your own magic. Finding your own joy. Finding out that everything is already perfect. We are anxious to meet our new daughter, our new little sister. And all together we will soak in the magic and perfection and joy of this new little soul God has trusted us with. Her birth will be unique. Somehow it will change me. A new kind of mother will be born. ​I can’t wait to meet her either.

This post originally appeared on my-peace-project.com.

Amy is a creator and believes everyone else is too. She strives to be artistic in all areas of life but writing is her passion and her family is her masterpiece. She uses her blog to address the joys and struggles of motherhood and is currently writing her first novel.

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5 Ways to Save Your Marriage in Lockdown

By ALEXANDER FERNÁNDEZ

If you’ve been reading your social media regularly during the Covid-19 lockdown, you’ve inevitably started theorizing about how your “couples” friends are coping: they’re going to be having a baby in nine or so months; they’re going to be separating; they are lying about how well they’re doing; they’re holding on for dear life, managing about as well as you are. 

I don’t think many of us would be surprised at a post-Corona baby boom. I can see it now: every variation of the name king and queen you can imagine.  After all, there are only so many things to do when you’re stuck in the house with no place to go. And, there are only so many things you can do over Zoom. Don’t even think of combining them. What is certainly surprising to no one, are the very real stressors on couples who’ve promised for better or worse, but not for lunch. And, are now stuck in close quarters without a single, solitary break from each other. Everywhere I go he’s there. Everywhere I go my child is there. But I digress. I kid. I kid. Save me.

After almost 25 years together, that’s 18 married in some eyes, with an additional seven married legally (thanks Supreme Court!), you might say that the husband and I have mastered staying out of each other’s way, at least long enough to avoid major eruptions. Sure, things have been incredibly difficult during this lockdown, especially with working from home and homeschooling a four-year-old. But, those 25 years have given us a few tricks beyond “don’t go to bed angry” that make our relationship work—even with a high-energy four-year-old in a lockdown situation. These work for us but your mileage may vary.

1. Live Your Best Instagram Life. You know all those moments that you share on social media? The ones that you stage and post? Whether they be of your kid in a ridiculously cute outfit, of your meal or of the toenail you just clipped? Stop photographing the moment and live it. Yes. Live it. Stop documenting and live. Today, we did an entire obstacle course in the backyard for the four-year-old to burn off some energy. We spent hours putting it together, running the course, laughing, playing. It was ephemeral, now living only in our memories—our shared family memories. I can still hear the laughter. I can still feel the soreness. It belongs to us.  

2. Forgive, Like You Would Like to Be Forgiven. How many times have you done something incredibly stupid? I’ll wait while you count. How many times have you said something thoughtless? Again, I’ll wait. How many times would you have liked to push reset? Ah! You see where I’m going? We all want do-overs. We all do dumb things. Now, I want you to stop and think about all the pressure that we are currently under; these pressures are not ordinary pressures—these are not ordinary times. When you get into an argument—and we all get into arguments—ask yourself: if I had done this dumb thing, would I want to be forgiven? Is this thing so massive, that it’s worth holding on to? I’ll wait. I am not, by the way, advocating free Get Out of Jail cards. What I am advocating is grace. It’s all about degrees. Don’t set a standard for your partner that you’re not willing to set for yourself. Don’t set too high a standard for yourself either.   

3. Do Spend Some Time Apart. Go into a separate room and read a book. Take a walk. Talk to a friend on the phone (and I mean talk, not text). Engage in a separate and distinct activity from those that are in lockdown with you. Whether you are an extrovert or an introvert, time away from those around you is essential to help you find yourself. Under regular situations, you would be alone and/or with different people for some part of the day. Try to mimic that as much as possible.  

4. Vary Your Days and Routine. Do not engage in the same activities every single day. Take turns cooking, homeschooling, cleaning. Make sure you know what day it is. Set up schedules so that each of you do different things on different days. If your days start to run together and all feel the same, you are doing something wrong. Once routine starts to creep in, boredom is next followed by anxiety, stress, and well everything that comes along with it.  

5. Get Out of the House. Go for walks. Run essential errands. Get some outdoor exercise. Spend time in the yard, go on a short hike. Even if all you do is take a walk around the block while you mumble to yourself, you’ve left the confines of the space you’ve been in. You’ve had a change of scene; with that change of scene, usually comes a change of perspective.

It’s funny (peculiar, not “ha, ha”), but among our friends, we are among the longest-married couples. Funny, because as a gay couple society does not normally look to us as an example of a successful marriage or partnership. Yet, 25 years later, we’re still chugging along. Yes, chugging. Marriage, partnership, coupledom (note, not martyrdom) is hard work—made harder by the addition of children; made harder still by the current lockdown. Yes, I keep using the word lockdown. To a lot of people, the term shelter in place simply does not fit the bill. When they are prevented from doing what they want to do, they can hear those bars swinging shut. At least this time, we’ve had some choice regarding who are fellow inmates are. And, we do get to decide, what’s for lunch.

 

This post originally appeared on Mr. Alex's Bookshelf.
ALEXANDER FERNÁNDEZ
Tinybeans Voices Contributor

Father, children's book critic, writer, judge, director, actor and amature photographer—together with his husband of 25 years—raising an energetic four-year old! "Parent is not just a noun, it's a verb.  If you're ever in doubt as to what to do, substitute the word caregiver.  It will steer you in the right direction."  

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What It’s like Being a Mom during COVID-19

By Justine Jalaff

Being a stay-at-home mother is isolating enough. Throw in social distancing and you’ve got lockdown insanity. 

I can handle being by myself. I’m pretty sure I’m an introvert. And when social distancing was first placed into effect I thought it was the best thing ever. No more FOMO as a mother and no more pressure to go and be somewhere I don’t want to be. 

Two weeks later…..I started missing my friends. Our playdates, heading to the public library or meeting up at the gym. Slowly it began to dawn on me that I have nowhere to go.

Sure I can take my kids on a walk or head to the parking lot to ride bikes maybe even a hike if I’m motivated enough all by myself. And that is if the weather is even good. 

Where I live the weather has been the biggest tease. One day it is snowing, the next sunny and warm, then raining and hailing. I don’t know how many times I’ve packed and unpacked my kids’ winter wear. 

I think what I am struggling with the most is knowing that every day is the same. Sure I’ve put a flexible routine in place, primarily for my sanity but I need to start my day with a shower or face wash and make my bed—honestly, though, every day is starting to feel mundane. But the weather is pretty crappy right now and my mood is for sure dependant on the weather. 

What I’m trying to get at is I am so feeling done. Just so done. This morning, I hid in my closet just so I could have time to read and do something for me that doesn’t require bowing every direction for the needs of my children. It felt pretty awesome for the short 10 minutes before they found me.

I may or may not let the kids go crazy and when they ask me for not one but five giant marshmallows for the third time in an hour—the answer will always be a yes if it means they stay happy.

And the homeschooling. Oh, the homeschooling. I mean what am I even complaining about? I’m barely even doing it. Trying to teach your six-year-old how to read the sentence “The big pig went out to dig to find his wig” when you have a four-year-old rambunctious boy and 18-month-old busy boy ruling the day. It’s just not going to happen. Some days I do squeeze in 20 min of teaching and I feel like a total rockstar!

But enough of the complaining right? I’m supposed to be loving every minute of quality family time with my sweet little cherubs. Ok, well you say that out loud but don’t lie to yourself. I know I will shout it to all of the other mothers out there “I NEED MY SPACE” and “BEDTIME CANNOT COME SOON ENOUGH!”

And husband, I love you, but can you just sit over there while I read my book over here? Just for a minute ok? I just need one minute to myself then I can come back and give you all the attention ok? OK!

It’s all good. It is all good. We will get through this. We can do this! Just know, ladies, mothers, warriors, I feel ya and just know if you are feeling done the rest of us are so so so feeling it alongside you. 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm a big believer in opening up your raw emotions and feelings as a mother and woman for the world to see. We need more reality displayed online versus the picture-perfect moments. 

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Curious to Know What Your Teenage Daughter Thinks about Life at the Moment?

By Lindsay Sealey

Obviously, our world has changed. We are navigating an upside-down world of social distancing, self-isolation, uncertainty, and changes to our daily routines. Less obvious is how teenage girls are experiencing this pandemic, some are not talking yet and others are immersed in their digital devices.

I was wondering how teenage girls were adjusting to these changes so I asked teenage girls five questions. Their answers may not only surprise you but also give you some insight and ideas for how best to help them and for how not to hinder them. If you are like me, you assumed that our over-reliance on screens and virtual living would be their dream come true. Simply put: this is not true.

Question 1: What are the greatest changes you’ve experienced so far? Whether we are talking about school closures or how we grocery shop, girls are faced with daily interruptions in their routines, inconveniences, and scary uncertainties, change is happening. When I asked girls what the greatest of these changes were, many told me their routines have been drastically disrupted. Girls, who once woke up at 7 a.m. to hit the gym, now can’t. Girls who jumped out of bed to dash to catch the bus for school, breakfast in hand, now don’t. Girls who loved being “out and about” during the day, grabbing a Starbucks iced tea and the buzz of life around them, are forced to stay home. Each day feels like the day before and often blurry at that, they say. One teen told me that procrastination is all too real as she sits at home and has little to no motivation to do much of anything, much less her online school work. “There is just no point and it’s so hard to stay off my phone. My screen time is through the roof,” Mackenzie shuddered.

Question 2: What are you missing most? Without question, all girls are missing out on socializing. Society has often made fun of and shamed this generation for their lack of social skills and their phone addiction. Yet, at this point, human connection is exactly what these teen girls are longing for. Sophie said it this way, “I definitely want to be with people now more than ever—and I’m an introvert.” Kayla added to this insight, “I never realized how incredibly valuable human interaction is; there is nothing like a conversation with someone, face to face.” Girls remember how simple and idle chitchat in the lunch line up felt so good. Girls also miss going outside without fear, taking walks and shopping in real stores, and being outside without carefully considering how close they are to the next person.

Question 3: Can you think of any benefits or “silver linings”? It can be difficult, even ludicrous, to consider the benefits of a global disaster when you are still in the thick of it. Yet, girls were already thinking about all they’ve gained. Other than a new-found appreciation for people, many said it’s been nice to slow down, reflect, work on creative projects there was never time for, and—wait for it—spend time with their families. That’s right, every girl I spoke with said she has enjoyed family time to talk and those nightly dinners together where nobody is rushing off to a practice of work event. Everyone is home, helping each other through this, talking and listening, and being together. Des said it best when she commented, “Life is so busy and this situation has given us a gift. It has reminded us to slow down and be grateful for the amazing people we have in our lives.” 15-year old Jen said, “I have also been able to get more sleep, eat well, and wear comfortable clothes. Not worrying about what I am going to wear each day or how I am going to style my hair has been really freeing.” Elizabeth told me she has liked that she’s not spending any money on meaningless stuff and eating out.” One big silver lining, mentioned by a few girls, was the big picture perspective that the environment is appreciating the pause on production and pollution.

Question 4: What are you most looking forward to when life resumes? When life gets back to a version of normal, several girls told me they cannot wait to go back to school, to see friends. They are looking forward to working in their coffee shop and restaurant jobs. Some are keen to go to the movies. Most were looking forward to eating out at restaurants. All teens were anticipating hugs and high fives all around and an appreciation for all they took for granted.

Question 5: Right now, what or who, is helping you most and what or who, is hindering you most? This has, no doubt, been a stressful and anxiety-provoking time for everyone. Girls are finding help though, by connecting with friends online, talking to their parents, watching the news and getting accurate facts and trying to maintain some normalcy like sticking to a daily routine or focusing on gratitude, not disappointments. What hinders them is too much talk about the pandemic and obsessing with watching the news and waiting for some positive reports.

If you have a teenage girl and you are wondering how she is handling (or not handling) the COVID-19 outbreak, just ask her. Phrases such as, “I’d love to hear your thoughts on all this” or “This is such a big life adjustment for everyone, how are you finding your way” all open up the conversation to hear from your girl, who needs to talk and who also needs to feel heard and validated.

For more information about raising confident teenage girls, check out: Growing Strong Girls: Practical Tools to Cultivate Connection in the Preteen Years and Rooted, Resilient, and Ready now available on Amazon and Audible and the website Bold New Girls.

 

 

I am a girl advocate and girls champion; the founder of Bold New Girls, teaching and coaching for girls and their parents. As well, I am the author Growing Strong Girls and Rooted, Resilient, and Ready (available on Amazon and Audible). I am an international speaker and an instructor with Udemy. 

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To My Friends on Facebook: I’m Not as Good a Mom as You Think I Am

By Melissa Heckscher

Photo: Melissa Heckscher

TO: My Friends on Facebook

RE: My Posts During the Covid-19 Outbreak

Dear Friends:

Maybe you’ve seen my recent posts. You know, the ones chronicling the slew of things I’ve been doing with my kids since this dreaded lockdown started: the arts and crafts projects, the home science experiments, the sidewalk chalk mosaics.

Maybe you’ve seen our silly family pictures—the ones where we’re crowding the camera frame, all close-up faces and goofy smiles—the photos screaming, “See! We’re doing great! Look how much fun we’re having!”

Maybe, because of these posts, you think our days are filled with Pinterest projects and dance parties—and that I’m actually good at filling this gaping hole of time that is every day in lockdown.

I’m here to tell you that I’m not.

Sure, we’ve done the arts and crafts, the science experiments, the chalk mosaics. And we’ve had fun in those moments.

But they’re just moments. And honestly, they’re such a small fraction of our daily experience that every time I post the pictures, I know it’s just to keep up the illusion that everything is OK. That I’m OK.

But I’m not.

The truth is, I’ll spend hours conceiving and setting up most of our home-based art/science/ you-name-it projects…and I’ll be lucky if my kids engage in any one of them for more than 20 minutes.

Really, I post the pictures for encouragement. Those “likes” you’re giving me? They make me feel like I’m doing something right. They’re like the silent voices cheering me on:

You’re such a good mom!

Great idea!

Sharing!

Because don’t we all feel like we’re doing it all wrong sometimes? I mean, nobody told us the right way to parent during a pandemic. (Newsflash: There is no right way.)

Consider: I’ve spent hours scouring Google to find homeschooling ideas, certain that by controlling these small parts of our day—by playing the perfect teacher, the perfect mom—I can control how my kids experience this gargantuan event that is happening.

But I can’t.

My youngest, newly five and full of life is up for anything. It’s my older boys—both introverted 8 and 10-year-olds who just want to play video games or watch Youtube (where they watch other people playing video games) that I just can’t motivate. At least, not longer than the few minutes it takes to do a quick activity and snap a picture.

And that is what you see. You see that brief moment where it is working. That moment when they are playing the game or doing the craft or wearing the costume. (Trust me, you don’t want to see the other moments, most of which are spent either desperately trying to prod my boys to “GO PLAY A GAME OR SOMETHING!!” or lamenting the fact that I can’t and retreating to my bedroom for a moment of teary-eyed silence.)

It’s not just me. Even the professionals are struggling.

“I see other moms posting pictures of how peaceful and accomplished their quarantine days have been with their children,” said Lori Campbell, Ph.D., a Los Angeles family therapist and mother of two.  “For a moment, these posts make me feel inadequate because although I do have some of those amazing times, a good portion of the day is challenging.”

So why do we continue to post these pictures that don’t show the whole truth?

For me, it’s because I want to remember that there were moments where we played together. (We did, after all, have a pretty epic indoor “snowball” fight with stuffed animals. That happened.)

I want to remember there were times when it worked. (All three of my kids did enjoy the obstacle course we set up throughout the house. Even if it was only for a few minutes.)

I want to remember the stories behind the art collection that now covers the walls of our kitchen. Or that the reason we all dressed as trolls that one night is because it’s when “Trolls World Tour” premiered on-demand in our living room.

Because, when all of this ends, I want to remember the good parts. Not the hours I spent arguing with my kids about screen time, but the moments of togetherness we shared.

Because I know there will be a day that I’ll look back and realize that I did OK.

(If not, the pictures will help.)

“I think that some people need to show pictures of their best moments as a reminder to themselves that they really are doing a good job,” Campbell said. “We all need to feel validated, especially in this madness.”

So to all those who see my posts on Facebook and wonder whether I’ve got everything under control, I want you to remember this:

None of us has everything under control. And that’s OK.

So go ahead and post the good stuff. We’ll cheer you on.

Sincerely,

Me

Melissa Heckscher is a writer and mother of three living in Los Angeles. She is a former staff writer for the Los Angeles Newspaper Group and the author of several books, including,The Pregnancy Test: 150 Important, Embarrassing, and Slightly Neurotic Questions (Quirk Books, 2011). 

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