Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Why I am Never Proud of My Children

You hear it all the time, I hear it all the time, my kids hear it ALL the time. . .
                                                                  "I'm so proud of you."

At least a million post a year on Face Book must have the words "I am so proud of (fill in the blank with a relation, friend, country, Olympian, actor, musician, non-profit, whatever)." You drive down the street and about every third car has a" proud parent" of someone sticker on their tailgate. Graduation, birthday, holiday cards, you name it and you can find Hallmark helping some person declare they are proud of another.

I have no numbers to back this, but I am guessing there are substantially fewer that say "I am so proud of myself."

But you can rest easy that you won't hear it from me. . . I am not proud of my children, I am not proud of my husband, and I am not proud of you. I am sometime proud of myself. Sometimes I am brimming-over-shimmering-with-inner-light proud of myself and sometimes I am just thank-goodness-I-didn't-tell-anyone-off proud, but either way I reserve being proud for myself and myself alone.

Some people in my world know this about me, some may not. . . some support it, some think it is quirky, some may even think it cruel (although I only know that to be a maybe, as they glare me across the room as they pour praise all over their own children).

Regardless, of what others think about it, it is what I do. I also don't say "good job," "way to go," or anything else along those lines.

So, the next question is always "Why?" Some people follow with a thought about how parents have a duty to build up their children's confidence, other people say that I am arguing semantics, still others joke about if only I had better children.

Yet, the real reason why is because I don't think it's my place to feel satisfaction or pleasure about anyone else's achievements or qualities. I don't know the whole story, unless it is mine.  Perhaps the test you are so proud of your child for doing well on was the one where they guessed; perhaps the sporting event where you didn't say anything was the one that they worked the hardest at yet couldn't make a goal happen; perhaps there is more going on behind the scenes than we could ever fully comprehend.  What if say you are proud of something and if you knew the whole story you wouldn't feel that way?

Are you thinking about my kids, about those poor Miller children who are never told good job and never told their mom is proud of them? I wouldn't worry too much about them.  They are proud of themselves! They are confident, they can self evaluate, and most importantly they don't need or look to anyone else to build them up.

I have dedicated a great deal of time to just that; helping my children be people who know their own value in this world. After every class, activity, event they are asked what they did that they were proud of and what they want to improve on.  I try to point out observations without placing judgement, "you seemed really focused on your project,"  "your time for that lap was," "you made more baskets today" then I wait and see what they want to say.  I will always give them my opinion when asked, I will shower them in love, and I will always be here to help them; but I will never diminish their accomplishments by being proud of them.




Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Why No, I Don't Shit Rainbows

I don't shit rainbows and I actually hope you don't either. Seriously that would be weird, and what about your actual digestive tract, and wouldn't you feel a little uncomfortable flushing a rainbow into the sewer? I totally regress, but I do want to clarify no rainbow poops, no unicorns, no fairies, no magic dust. Just me, standard gross digestion, and boring lack of mythical.

So, I know you are asking, "Why does this even need to be clarified?" I can hear you asking this in your mind as you sip your warm beverage and sit in your cozy seat to see what I decided to ramble about today.

I have been told recently that it does in fact seem, at least to those who only know my facebook post or have only met me in passing, that I may shit rainbows.

Thank the universe that this has been cleared up!

Some days I do have a possibly unhealthy positive outlook and some days I do toss reality to the wind. Some days are just like that. Those are the days that if I were asked if the glass was half empty or half full, I would giggle and say who the hell needs a glass when there is an ocean? Days when I can find the beauty in everything, even the devastating and truly terrible. Days when I can see everything through my rosy colored glasses, when the power-full-ness of being me is so awesome that I can't even imagine the feelings of stress or uncertainty, without knowing that they are perfect feelings.

But there are the other days too. The days that weigh me down and I unfortunately am unbalanced and falling on my figurative face because I lack any semblance of grace. Days that I cry and am scared, days when I think I have fucked everything up and am lost to help myself.  

It is not that some days I actually live a dream life and other days I don't. . . it is really all in my head. My reality is only as good or as bad as I make it out to be. So, some days I do let myself dwell in the darkness, some days I do just cry, and some days I choose to have my own little pity party. But I never stay there. . . 

So, you may be asking why I care what you think. I sort of don't; no offense. But I do care if somehow my desire to be optimistic and positive, leaves you feeling less than stellar. I know how that can feel, I have been in darkness that has no shades of grey. I have felt the weight of other people's perspectives, certain that my reality would always pale in comparison. But in truth it was never my reality that kept me down, it was my view of it. I came out of abuse, I came out of poverty, I came out a life that I thought was worthless. I came out of it because I was done being a victim of my own inaction, of my own constant comparison to others.  I found myself and my optimism and my power.

Although, I started this post thinking it mattered to tell people I have crap days too. . . .really, STOP worrying about my days.  I am not the comparison to be making in this world. I am going to focus on what my days could be and I hope you do the same.







Saturday, November 1, 2014

Ooops. . . I forgot, I am

It is so easy in my every day life to get swept away with what I do.

I do care for my kids, I do chat with my husband, I do plan events, I do homeschool, I do teach classes, I do laundry, I do crack terrible jokes, I do procrastinate, I do rearrange my furniture too often, I do find ways to avoid washing dishes; but in all the doing I seem to lose the who part of me. . . .who am I?

I do the whole default parent thing (haha, you really should read this blog if you aren't sure what a default parent is),  but even as I chuckled at the writing in that blog, I was struck with the huge power of not being a mom, but THE MOM.  I am the only mom my little cherubs get.  I am the one and only.  That is amazing and powerful and a LOT of responsibility and WOW!!! I remember holding each of my babies for the first time and having the sense of awe that we were together and yet this little article struck a chord in me. I should not ever have let that awe slip my mind because of a little daily routine or stress.  With great power comes great responsibility and remembering that I am THE MOM is a huge responsibility.

As is the way with my overactive mind, I started to think about all the things that I am. . . .not the things I do.  I am so much and yet, I seem to so easily have lost myself in the list of what I do.  Yet, the solution is not to do less, it is to remember that who I am is what brought me to do those things in the first place and to return to the things that I have wondered away from.  It is about remembering the I am.  I am the mom who adores her kids and wants to experience life with them.  I am the community builder that has a knack for bringing people together and creating culture.  I am the woman who chose to marry the best man for me.  I am the writer who has a story to tell. I am the traveler who becomes restless in one place for too long.  I am me and I am so thrilled to be finding myself again.