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Thanks For The Gratitude Posts

Wednesday, November 25th, 2009 by Alyice

As I take the time to look back over the past year, to see what I am truly thankful for, I realize that I am most thankful for my gratitude posts. They cause me to stop concentrating on the negatives life throws my way—like the car literally breaking down for the 20th time or the effect the down economy has had on our family—and start concentrating on the positives.

Gratitude posts give me time to pause the vicious circle of life long enough to really experience life—to see the good that often gets overlooked, to marvel at how something so tiny and insignificant can bring pure joy, to truly use all five senses, to reflect upon what was and have the foresight to learn from it, to be receptive and open and willing…to truly experience life.

Gratitude posts cause me to seek out the good in my own life; to stop the “woe is me” pity party, the “comparison cycle”, the “self-imposed put downs” and to start appreciating what is.

Gratitude posts provide validation for my life, reminding me that I matter, that I am just as important as others, and that even though there are dreams left unfulfilled, I have a rather good life.

Gratitude posts remind me that I have a choice in this life. No matter what life throws my way, no matter how burnt out I get or how difficult the times are, I have a choice: to be happy or to be sad, to be grateful or to be bitter, to be present in the moment or to watch my life pass by.

My gratitude posts are far more powerful than I ever imagined they would be. For once I got into the habit of writing a weekly post, I discovered that I no longer needed to write a weekly post because I was writing them in my head on a near daily basis—and in that moment my life felt more alive, more wonderful, more important.

And in the end, I hope that by sharing these posts with you, that you, too, will find them uplifting, motivating, and encouraging. And that they’ll be the catalyst for beginning a gratitude journal of your own.

Give thanks…

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Thanks For Letting Me Be Mom

Monday, October 26th, 2009 by Alyice

Today, I ran across an old journal entry I wrote back on December 28, 2008 at 9:52 PM and thought I’d share it as it truly fits how I feel today!

There are days, like today when I absolutely L-O-V-E being able to take care of the family, clean the house, cook the meals, run the errands, and handle the recordkeeping and bill paying without the added stress of working outside the home. And it’s been great to be able to create art for the sake of creating art—without feeling like I should be marketing and earning money from it—thus allowing myself to have “me” time outside of the kids and my husband.

And I am grateful that I still have bonding time with the kids. I realize that while I don’t have as much quantity time with them as I’d like the bits of time I do have are priceless because we do laugh, and they do share their lives with me—a lot more than I was allowing myself to believe and definitely a lot more than I realized.

The thing is, as the kids began to grow into teenagers my life became more and more empty and I missed “our time” together. I desperately tried not to latch onto the kids and make them the center of my world—allowing them to branch out and grow and be independent—but secretly, I was hurting inside.

At first it was “Mom, you don’t need to volunteer in my school anymore”. Then it was “Mom, I don’t like birthday parties and all that attention. I don’t want them anymore”. Then it was “Mom, you don’t need to meet me for lunch—at school—anymore”. Then it was “Mom, you cannot help me with my homework because it’s over your head”. Then it was “Mom, you don’t need to drive me everywhere, I can walk or hitch a ride with a friend or drive myself”. Then it was “Mom, it’s too embarrassing to be hanging out with you—playing ball and stuff. I get teased enough when we do things as a family”. Then it was “Please don’t hug me anymore, I have personal space issues”. Then it was “Mom, I’m gonna hang out with my friends at their house instead of ours because—no offense—you guys are weird”.

For so many years I was everything to them and then one day, I wasn’t. And with each passing year, I was needed less and less and as happy as I was for how wonderful they were turning out, I missed being the center of their worlds. And when did I go from cool, supportive, caring, fun-loving parent to weird, anyway?

It’s a different relationship now that they don’t need me to do everything for them anymore. It’s a different relationship now that they don’t need mom to entertain them, either. They are self-sufficient and secure in who they are—and that’s a good thing. Really it is!

I guess it was last night that things really clicked and I finally became okay with them growing up and needing me less and less. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss having more one-on-one time with them or them needing me. And it’s not that I want them to need me less, but that they “need” to need me less. They need to be able to grow up and I need to let them.

And so today, I am grateful for the wonderful young adults they are becoming and for the fact that they haven’t completely pushed me out of their lives—that they still want me around.

Give thanks…

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Thanks For Child Development Course

Monday, October 19th, 2009 by Alyice

In my daughter’s high school she is taking a class that prepares her for the real world. In this class there is a section on child development. During this section, teenagers learn all about raising a family, including what it’s really like to care for an infant.

This week-end was my daughter’s turn to bring home a fake mechanical baby designed to cry and pee and poop and demand all the attention a real baby would demand. His name was Cody. (Nope, she didn’t pick the baby’s name, it came with the baby.)

The first thing out of my daughter’s mouth when she arrived home with the baby was, “We’re not going anywhere all week-end.”

“Ha, Ha,” was my response. “We’re going shopping, we’re going to eat out at a restaurant, and we’re going to the movies.”

“Why?” she asked with a disgruntled tone.

“Because you cannot truly get the real experience of what it’s like to have a baby if you don’t tote it around with you everywhere you go.”

Since the baby was my daughter’s responsibility, she bravely tackled all the “mommy roles” including buckling the baby in and out of the car seat, feeding, burping, changing diapers, carrying the baby everywhere we went, waking up several times during the night, and even having to “hold the baby” simple because the baby needed a little tender loving care. And everything was recorded via an ID bracelet and a journal sheet.

First stop, the local gas station. She would not get out of the car. So she sat in the car, with the heater on (it’s 32 degrees here), until I came back—five minutes later.

Second stop, dinner. My son came down from college so we opted for his favorite restaurant: an all-you-can-eat buffet with sushi (well, California rolls). The waitress starred. She starred so much I finally told her it was a school project and the baby wasn’t real. My daughter got upset at me for bringing attention to her “project” as it made her uncomfortable. Then she started noticing the stares from patrons of the restaurant and she got really uncomfortable. During this time, the baby needed to be fed, burped, and changed.

Third stop, the movies. Over all, the baby did pretty well at the movies—we went at just the right time. Still, the baby needed two diaper changes, two feedings, and to be burped. My daughter hated that she had to miss part of the movie because she had to leave so the baby didn’t distract the other patrons.

Fourth stop, Michaels. She opted to put the baby in the basket instead of holding him. People starred. At first glance, he looked like the real thing. At fourth glance, they looked at my daughter with a weird expression—perhaps wondering why she, a high school student, was transporting a doll around with her.

Fifth stop, Wal-mart. Again the baby went into the shopping basket. She kind of liked the idea of being able to use the basket with the baby carrier instead of having to lug the car seat in with her, or carrying the baby in her arms. People starred, but my daughter learned to tune them out. The baby needed nothing from her, but for her to keep it safe during the entire Wal-mart experience.

Sixth stop, McDonalds. We opted to eat inside, after having just put the baby into the car seat three minutes earlier. My daughter decided she hated the idea of getting in and out of the car so quickly and begged that McDonalds be our last stop of the night. During our meal, some kids in a nearby booth starred. My son took full advantage of the opportunity to hassle my daughter about having a baby at 14 ½ years old—telling her that she should’ve waited to have sex, then grilling her about the baby’s father. My daughter opted to go along with the gag—perhaps the kids would stop staring, or perhaps they’d learn a valuable life lesson and just “WAIT!”

During the night, the baby woke my daughter up several times.

The next day, she begged to stay home. I concurred but not without a little reality check. I decided to give her some chores to do so that she could discover what it was like to try to care for a house and a baby at the same time. It took her nearly two hours to do one sink of dishes. Every time she washed a few, the baby called for her attention: a diaper change, a feeding, a holding.

That night, the baby kept her, and I, up several times as she opted to sleep on the sofa where I got the pleasure of hearing every single cry, coo, and sucking of the bottle.

By the third day, my daughter determined that babies, real or not, were A LOT of work. And not only were they work, but they sucked up all your time, leaving you very little time for other things.

Her conclusion: “Mom, I’m glad I decided last year to wait on having kids until after college or I get married. I’m glad I am wearing my ‘promise ring’ to remind me of the vows I made to myself.”

So yeah, the whole fake baby thing can be a bit daunting—and yes, it would have been easier to just stay home all weekend—but the rewards of truly experiencing it are so worth it!

Oh, and by the way, my son came to the same conclusion six and a half years ago, when he experienced the whole ordeal during his stint in middle school. And from what I’ve been hearing on the streets, I think middle school, not high school, is the right age for such a course!

Give thanks…

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I'm a freelance writer, mixed media artist, SMVA, and the owner of The Dabbling Mum.

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