She’s growing and maturing. My selfish girl who is usually, always only thinking of her 13 year old self is thinking of us all. She knows having the elves brings joy to our entire family. She understand that I’m really trying and I want this experience for them, even if it is coming late. She knows her momma is working extra hard to develop a legacy that will help children for generations. She knows I’m burning the candle at both ends. She knows that I have more on my plate than I can handle. She knows that some things will go undone as a result.
Usually the things that go undone are laundry and home cooked meals, but right now the elves seem to be the thing I couldn’t maintain. Somehow, she understands the significance of the elves to our family; even if she doesn’t quite understand what it means to me to have her help me in this way.
As moms, we sometimes beat ourselves up for being distracted and disconnected. We question our impact and influence as mothers when our children are rude, selfish or inconsiderate. We beat ourselves up for not being enough for our children… for not doing enough or giving them enough. This whole situation reminded me that I am enough at all times— even when I am distracted, disconnected and forgetful.
See, food and cooking is how I say, “I love you.” It’s how I say, “I’m glad you’re here.” Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I have such difficulty managing the goals for my health and fitness, but I digress. We can chat about that another day.
Off I went to the store the day before the party.
On my way to the store I decided the menu would include baked ziti and a tossed salad with yummy add-ins like gorgonzola cheese, green apples, craisins and such. I grabbed ground and linked Italian sausage. I quickly remembered several of my guests don’t eat pork. No worries! I’ll just grab some ground beef and more ingredients. Now, I have to make two sauces, but I got this. I headed to check out.
Oh crap!!! One of my guests can longer eat tomato anything. Side note: I grew up in a house that was always entertaining. My parents taught me that you make people feel welcomed by considering them in your choices. In other words, make sure there’s something for everyone. I decided to grab some chicken breasts and veggies to make chicken alfredo pasta too. I finished shopping. I had about 20lbs of meat, a full cart and a fully overwhelmed heart.
It is our job to combat misogyny, toxic masculinity, predatory behavior and rape culture by educating and empowering children. Talk to them about predatory behavior and grooming. Tell them, age appropriately, what these creeps say and do… Wait. Obviously, parental discretion should be used, but nothing predators do or say is age appropriate.
Tell your children the truth.
Tell your them what predators say and how they manipulate.
And for God’s sake stop insisting your kids hug and kiss everybody. What if I told you— YOU are grooming your own child for predators. You are the biggest obstacle to your child’s understanding that permission to touch their body can only be given by them.
Revealing my struggles felt like weakness. Until recently, I prided myself on being the strong one. So, I refused to disclose the fullness of my pain. But people love me. Without fail, they all wanted to comfort me. They all wanted to fill in the places I could not. A few wanted to know everything. Others wanted to get by with as little information as possible. And I get it. I think people understand the complexities of choosing to have a hysterectomy.
After all, 40 it is relatively young to remove reproductive organs. In this day and age many women, at 40, are just embarking on their first pregnancy. Women are choosing to a party, travel and pursue their careers as priorities over marriage and children. I, of course, think this is wonderful. It means that more women are choosing to invest in the desires of their own hearts rather than the desires of their circle of influence or the insistence of the world that marriage and motherhood define womanhood.
We need to re-contextualize strength. Like, what does it even mean to be “the strong one”?
Because it is NOT the absence of fear or pain or desire or disappointment. I believe that we have, in error, taken a patriarchal view of strength and applied it to our emotional sensibilities in an effort to make us appear less weak. They told us that strength and weakness cannot dwell in the same space. Men, for too long, set the expectation for tolerable behavior for women. Women are killing themselves to meet it. And women are cosigning this behavior. It must stop.
I am trying to negotiate an understanding of literal strength, figurative strength and the reality of my actual strength. What does it look like? What does it feel like? How have I previously misunderstood and in turn misrepresented strength. I am currently being forced to confront these feelings of wanting to be strong, solvent and also having to embrace that pieces of me breaking.
Guest Rule— Do not call when you are two houses down to ask if the host needs anything… unless you live in an urban metropolitan area where there might actually be a corner store. Us suburbanites do not have corner stores, but you already knew that. Don’t be disingenuous. Calling from the driveway talking about, “What can I bring?”. That said, do not come empty handed. Even if they don’t need anything— bring something. Flowers, wine, fruit punch… something. Unless you have previously discussed an extenuating circumstance with the host… your presence is not enough. With love, Stephanie
I have learned that true restoration comes from being mature enough to hold yourself accountable without attempting to buy or overlook the healing process. Healing can’t be bought and overlooking only suppresses the pain. Shout out to my mama for always loving me!
