A Lesser-Known Fact About Parenthood

If there is one surprising, yet universal, tenet of parenthood it is that we discuss our children’s bowel movements openly, often, and usually in great detail.

Why? Just…Why?

You may not even realize you’re doing it for a while; early on you’re too caught up in the daze of trying to figure out how to keep your tiny human alive. It’s kind of a miracle if you’re even able to form complete, coherent thoughts, much less calculate how much time you now spend talking about your kid’s wet diapers. Hospitals even helpfully provide you with a chart to notate both how often your baby is peeing and pooping, as well as what the texture is like. I’m not kidding. I’m pretty sure this is how it all begins.

So no, it doesn’t seem bad at first, just necessary to survival. Eventually, though, you realize that 80% of your conversations with your partner at least include a mention of your kid’s bodily functions. When the kids multiply, so does the amount of time you talk about their collective dumps. Who went when, why someone hasn’t gone yet, whose turn it is to deal with it next, what someone could have possibly eaten. As you can, but try not to, imagine, the list goes on.

From what I can tell, talking about your kids’ bathroom (or diaper) habits is a common bonding agent between parents. No matter the kind of parenting philosophy you practice, the one common parenting denominator (in addition to the love for your respective children, of course) is the fact that they poop (and pee and whatever else) and you have to deal with it. Until someone (incredibly smart) invents a machine that changes the very nature of human physiology, we must all accept this as truth (or hire a nanny).

It is a warm and peaceful July evening. As you sit down to relax with a glass of wine, you hear the words “I’M NOT POOPING” shouted from afar. You casually deposit your wine and walk calmly towards the voice. You are not even fazed. Your skin doesn’t prickle with unease. This is the sixth dimension beyond that which is known to man, a dimension of the foulest order. This is your life now; you are in the Twilight Zone. [Source]

What’s ironic is that, when given the rare opportunity to revel in adult conversation, we, without fail, talk about our kids. This is another thing nearly all parents have in common. Kids are hilarious, mind you, but still.

What I’ve come to realize, and am doing my best to prepare you for, is that kid talk almost always brings with it some sort of potty talk. This, a strange hallmark of parenthood, is actually kind of cathartic. If you can lay this on the table, just think what else you can discuss. Your kid’s poop is basically taking your friendships to the next level with very minimal effort on your part! It’s simultaneously appalling, of course, because our poor children have no say in the matter and it is, well, poop, but it’s really amazing too. It’s just another bizarre reminder of how much your life changes when you have kids.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Sure, you know your opportunities for date nights will be more limited (spending $80 to have a babysitter watch your kids sleep so you can go spend another $150 on dinner and drinks is not an easy pill to swallow). You know your body will change (in disturbingly pliable ways). You may even think know how you’ll parent (ha).

But like any grand adventure, there are so many little things you don’t even know to expect when you’re expecting. I’d say that chief among those is the frequency and ease with which you will say the word “poop.”

Keep in mind, this is coming from someone who had a dog for nearly five years before adding a kid to the equation. My husband and I were no slouches when it came to poop talk. After all, when you live in a city and have to walk your dog instead of luxuriously opening a back door to let him in the yard (the fantasy!), you have to figure out if, and when, he needs to go. However, with our dog, unless something truly alarming arose in taking him outside, there was nothing more that needed to be said. We didn’t dwell on the topic.

Kids, on the other hand, force you to take it to the next level. Not only do you discuss the if and when, but you also find yourself going into the intricacies of how and why. Honestly, the creativity I demonstrate with my poop-related vocabulary is praiseworthy. If we earned badges of the sort, parents would be blue-ribbon holders. It’s an award no one ever wants, to be sure, but when you’re at the beck and call of a small child, knee-deep in tantrums and lack of sleep, you’ll take what you can get.

And How

This realization–of how much time my friends and I spend discussing our kids’ pee and poo–is without a doubt one of the most depressing ones I’ve ever had. Sure, any amount at all may be a little bit of a bummer, because I don’t even want to think about anyone’s pee or poo that much, even or maybe especially my own. The degree to which we incorporate these discussions into our everyday chats, however, is astounding. Plus, it’s not just the number of times we bring it up, but the sheer nonchalance with which we do so that’s so incredible. When else in your life do you talk about poop to this degree? I know more about my friends’ kids’ poop rituals than I know about my own family members’ lives.

When they’re babies, especially if you’re first-time parents, you’ll ask questions about what’s normal. I shuddered when my birth class instructor told us a newborn’s poop smelled like Target popcorn, but I distinctly remember a point during the middle of the night just a few short days after baby was home that I very begrudgingly found myself agreeing with her (and you’re welcome for imparting that little nugget–no pun intended–to you). Little did I know that was the beginning of such vivid fecal description.

When they’re older, you talk about when you’re going to teach them how to use the toilet, or, if you’ve already started, your tips for how to get them to actually do it. It’s not like poop is the only thing we talk about–of course not–but it does seem to wriggle its way into almost every conversation we have.

I tried, in vain, to fight it. While I’m certainly not prudish, not in the least, it’s not exactly as if I make a habit of going around and making poop or fart jokes. Yet the more time I spent around fellow moms, I realized there’s a whole host of bodily functions that are unceremoniously, gloriously up for grabs. It’s positively freeing to discuss whatever, whenever, as it relates to you and/or your child.

“No secretion is too sacred” is basically the motto of motherhood.

You may think you won’t be that kind of parent, the one who so casually references BMs and other potty horror stories, but you will. Believe me, you will.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. [Source]

The Whole Truth & Nothing But(t)

Now that many of us have begun potty training, the potty talk seems to have increased tenfold. Truly. For example, while enjoying a nice night out recently, my friends and I belatedly realized with horror that we had been talking about the toilet, and how to get our tiny humans to use it, for 20 minutes. With great pride, by the way. Really, it’s the small things that count. Although, in all seriousness, getting your kid out of a diaper after two or three years feels pretty damn big. It’s exhilarating, hence the need to talk about it so unabashedly, I guess.

(Side note to give major props to my son who we just potty trained last month and, minus a few errant accidents, has been rocking it. Praise be.)

How any seasoned parent looks while discussing poop: calm and unaffected. We’re basically un-licensed bodily fluid therapists. “I’m listening, tell me more.” [Source]

My Hope for the Future

I can only hope–and pray, furiously–that my involvement with my kids’ bathroom activities will dwindle with time. When this day comes, I surely won’t feel the need to discuss such activities at the rate I do now, right? Right?! Just please agree with me. I certainly don’t envision talking about it to this degree when I’m, say, 80. Although maybe by then I’ll be bringing it back up for entirely different reasons.

So be prepared, soon-to-be-parents. Your life is about to change in all the ways you expect, of course. I don’t need to tell you that. But in addition to staying up all night trying to calm your gassy, crying infant, you’ll start to experience what I call the poop creep (in both literal and figurative ways, unfortunately). It may come as a surprise; I know it did for me. But please embrace it for all of its therapeutic, relationship-building glory. At the very least, take comfort in the solidarity the poop creep creates.

After all, we’re all in this shit together.

Toddler Bear’s Top 20 Children’s Books

It’s been more than a year since I last posted about my kid’s favorite children’s books. In that time, we’ve read countless stories, many of which were read countless times over (sometimes to my chagrin). As of now, I can confidently say that my two-and-a-half-year-old loves to read. Either that, or he’s spent two years building an elaborate book-loving persona with the sole objective of stalling bedtime with just one more book “for two seconds” (his favorite stalling phrase). It’s entirely possible and, to some extent, likely.

Regardless of his motivation, my bibliophilic heart just about bursts each time he tells me he wants to read together.

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My kid loves to read? Squee! Using it to distract me? Who cares?!  [Source]

Reading with him as a baby was fun, of course, but I must admit that reading with him as a toddler is next-level amazing. As a rule, toddlers are entertaining at every turn, especially once they start talking. He’s so chatty and so inquisitive that each book becomes quite the interactive adventure.

If he’s not asking questions about what he sees and hears, he’s requesting  more information about the illustrations. (I have to say, I’ve been known to use artistic license when developing the background stories for secondary or even non-existent characters.) If he’s not asking me about the books, he’s reciting pages in their entirety. His ability to memorize is incredible, as is his ability to pick up new vocabulary, test out different pronouns and verb conjugations, and analyze a story and its characters.

Reading is such a wonderful vehicle for blossoming creativity, language, and exploration, and as a parent I love how it allows me to watch him process new information. It’s like discovering the entire world all over again through my toddler’s eyes.

This level of interaction and engagement happily means we can read longer and more complex books now, too. Because reading is such a wonderfully enlightening experience for us nowadays, I decided it was high time to share some of our current favorites.

This list is fairly long–and I already made cuts, if you can believe it–but these books are all worth reading. Maybe you’re already familiar with them, but, if not, you might just come across one of your future favorites below.

Books Your Toddler Will Love

Bustle in the Bushes

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Bustle in the Bushes by Giles Andreae and illustrated by David Wojtowycz [Source]

Bustle in the Bushes is a great non-fiction option for young readers because it presents factual information with fun rhymes and bright illustrations. Like many little kids, my toddler seems pretty intrigued by insects, and this is a non-creepy way for him to learn about them. (We have another book about bugs that includes real photographs. Knowing that some spiders burrow their babies in holes in the ground before they burst out is enough to make my skin crawl; seeing it almost sends me over the ledge, and I’m not even afraid of spiders. As you can imagine, this is my preferred insect book.)

Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type

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Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type written by Doreen Cronin and illustrated by Betsy Lewin [Source]

In Click, Clack, Moo, Farmer Brown faces a big problem: his literate cows decide to go on strike until he improves their working conditions. Needless to say, this story provides cheeky fun for the whole family. My husband and I love the silliness of the story and our toddler loves chiming in with the repetitive sound effects. It’s the perfect mix of interaction and goofiness for everyone (plus it’s pretty short, which means we can add it on at bedtime without taking up too much more time).

Colección de oro: Jorge el curioso / A Treasury of Curious George

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Colección de oro Jorge el curioso / A Treasury of Curious George by Margret and H.A. Rey [Source]

I love bilingual books, and this is one of my favorites for two reasons: it has several books in one, and they’re all about a character to whom my mischievous toddler can finally relate. As such, he now frequently requests the “George” book.

Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!

pigeon bus

Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! by Mo Willems [Source]

Here’s another book that’s just as entertaining for adults as it is for kids. The simplistic illustrations and minimalist bold text make it eye-catching and easy for kids to memorize and recite. Mine especially loves piping in when the pigeon rants, “LET ME DRIVE THE BUS!!!” (If there’s anything he can get behind, it’s a tantrum.)

Dragons Love Tacos

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Dragons Love Tacos by Adam Rubin and illustrated by Daniel Salmieri [Source]

First of all, who doesn’t love tacos? Secondly, dragons?! Yes, please. Now, combine the two, throw in a party and a jocular tone, and you’ve got this book. As far as our family is concerned, it’s a solid home run.

Giraffes Can’t Dance

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Giraffes Can’t Dance by Giles Andreae and Guy Parker-Rees [Source]

I adore reading this book aloud, so much so that it’s one of maybe ten that I have completely memorized. The story about embracing one’s individuality is important, of course, but I really love it because of the smooth rhyming structure (minus the part where they rhyme “thing” and “violin,” but I digress). My toddler loves it on his own, but I often try to suggest this book because I like it so much.

Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site

goodnight

Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site by Sherri Duskey Rinker and Tom Lichtenheld [Source]

What little kid doesn’t love construction equipment? Add that to its adorable and cozy rhymes and this book is perfect for bedtime. It often makes me feel ready to snuggle in bed as well (or maybe that’s just due to chasing after two kids all day, who knows?).

Green Eggs and Ham

green eggs

Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Suess [Source]

My kid asks us to read this classic to him all the time, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s really drawn to the nonsensical story or if it’s actually because it takes a while to read and therefore stalls bedtime even more (this is a theme, as you can tell). It must be because he genuinely likes it, though, because he’ll randomly choose this for a midday read as well.

How to Bathe Your Little Dinosaur

how to bathe

How to Bathe Your Little Dinosaur by Jane Clarke and Georgie Birkett [Source]

This is one of the simpler books on the list. It’s short and sweet, and would probably help kids who dislike bath time feel a little more excited about it (this is luckily not our problem). When the dirty little dinosaur finishes his bath, he gets a big hug. During this stanza, my toddler always leans in and gives me a big hug too, and it never fails to warm my heart.

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

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If You Give a Mouse a Cookie written by Laura Numeroff and illustrated by Felicia Bond [Source]

I distinctly remember reading this book as a kid. My elementary school’s computer lab was decorated with a cutout of this precocious little mouse (perfect background decor for playing Oregon Trail, as far as I recall). It turns out, the book holds up well with the current generation, too, since my toddler regularly requests the “cookie book.”

The Little Engine That Could

little engine

The Little Engine That Could by Watty Piper [Source]

I must admit, this isn’t really my favorite on the list (I often feel like it drags on too long), but my kid absolutely loves it. Granted, he’s obsessed with trains, but still. He loves reading along, starting with its very first line, “Chug, chug, chug. Puff, puff, puff. Ding-dong, ding-dong.” I’ve heard this more times than I care to count.

The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear

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The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear by Don and Audrey Wood [Source]

Here’s another short option, and I think it’s one of the most charming books on the list. I enjoy the imagery and beautiful illustrations, and I always end up wanting a fresh, juicy strawberry for myself after we finish reading. My toddler, meanwhile, loves to pretend to be the bear tromping through the forest.

Llama Llama Red Pajama

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Llama Llama Red Pajama by Anna Dewdney [Source]

This is one of the newest books in our collection, and it’s already a hit. As our kid is starting to develop an active imagination, especially after the lights go out, it’s also timely. I find myself paraphrasing “Mama Llama’s always near even if she’s not right here” almost daily. That and “please stop all this llama drama and be patient for your mama.” Two good lessons in one fell swoop!

The Magical Toy Box

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The Magical Toy Box by Melanie Joyce and illustrated by James Newman Gray [Source]

The Magical Toy Box is a fanciful story with uniquely vibrant illustrations. I like it because of its bright pictures and sing-songy verses, and I suspect our toddler likes it because it proposes what toys are really up to each night, à la Toy Story.

The Mixed-Up Truck

mixed up

The Mixed-Up Truck by Stephen Savage [Source]

Here’s yet another simple but eye-catching book that really engages our toddler. It’s an amusing story of a cement mixer who’s confused about his task at hand and ends up making a few mistakes. It’s another where the repetition really encourages toddler participation, making it a fun (and short) option for everyone involved.

Newtonian Physics for Babies

newtonian

Newtonian Physics for Babies by Chris Ferrie [Source]

If you and your toddler want to learn about Newtonian physics, look no further. Sure, it’s a little overly simplified, but that’s precisely why it’s so engaging for a toddler. In only a few short pages, you’ll both learn about mass, force, acceleration, and gravity. That ain’t bad (plus there’s a page towards the end where an apple falls on Newton’s head and our toddler thinks it’s just hilarious).

Pinkalicious

pinkalicious

Pinkalicious by Victoria Kann and Elizabeth Kann [Source]

A stubborn little kid who loves cupcakes and lacks listening skills? That sounds awfully familiar. We all really enjoy this book, likely for entirely different reasons, but I like to think our toddler enjoys reading about how the little girl learns the valuable lesson that mom is always right (and that demonstrating self-control around pastries is a critical life skill). In reality, I’m pretty sure he just likes yelling “pink-a-boo” at the end.

Too Many Carrots

carrots

Too Many Carrots by Katy Hudson [Source]

Our toddler was addicted to this book for months when we first received it. As in, read-it-every-night kind of thing. It’s an adorable, and gorgeously illustrated, tale of a hoarder whose condition nearly costs him his closest friends. It’s a creative story that includes just the right mix of plot and sound effects, meaning that our toddler uses critical thinking to ask about the characters and has the opportunity to say “crash” as loudly as he can. To him, that’s a win-win.

Trains

trains

Trains by Thea Feldman [Source]

We have read this book so many times, it’s almost worn out. If he could only read one book for the rest of his life, I’m certain our kid would choose this one. Another non-fiction, it’s an early reader book all about…you guessed it…trains. It talks about where trains go, what they carry, and how they work. Now our toddler likes to tell us how we too can ride on–and even sleep!–on a moving train. Well, that is except last week when he said, “No, actually Mommy, you can’t sleep on a moving train. You’re too big.” Gee whiz.

Why Do Tractors Have Such Big Tires?

why do tractors

Why Do Tractors Have Such Big Tires? written by Jennifer Shand and illustrated by Danele Fabbri [Source]

Surprise, surprise, another non-fiction (our toddler is really interested in learning how the world works right now), this is our favorite book to read at Grandma’s house. It’s a silly book about how various things function, like why airplanes leave white trails behind them and why trains have conductors. It presents the information in a really entertaining way, so much so that even a two-year-old is eager for more.

Reminder: When Possible, Shop Local

As always, I recommend you shop locally where you can. You’ve likely noticed that most of the books link to one of my favorite local bookstores, Women & Children First. I’m as much a fan of Prime’s quick delivery as the next person, but supporting a local business is such a gratifying feeling that I think you’ll find the extra couple of days (and maybe bucks) are worth it if it means you’re doing your part to enrich your community.

Happy Reading & Your Recommendations

Part of the reason I like sharing these lists on the blog is so I have a journal of the kinds of things our kid liked at different points in his life. The other part is to share our favorites in hopes that you find at least one new book to look for on your next library trip.

Reading with my toddler is eye-opening, incredible, and easily one of the most enjoyable parts of parenting thus far. Every day, he surprises me with the things he knows, many of which come from the books we’ve read together. Not only is reading with him entertaining, but I also love knowing that it’s making a huge impact on his cognitive and language abilities. I hope your experience is the same, and I’d love to hear what books your toddlers love too.

 

 

 

[Featured image source]

Motherhood Is

motherhood

Artwork credit: “Mother’s Day” by Chihiro Iwasaki, 1972

Motherhood is indefinable.
It is faceless;
It is pervasive.
It is both all-encompassing and understated.

It’s an umbrella.
It shields;
It protects.
It is both forgotten and celebrated.

Motherhood demands industry and ingenuity.
It is tireless;
It is thankless.
It is productive.

It’s a verb.
It is active;
It is passive.
It is.

To mother is to become an unyielding force with the power to move heaven and earth.
It is to part ways with your past, to lose a piece of yourself to the future.

To mother is to crack open your heart, exposing it raw to vulnerability, to depth, to love, to hope.

To become a mother is to see the dawn of a new day for both yourself and another.
It is to know someone instantly and intimately without even knowing their name;
To give someone life, someone who changes your very purpose.

To mother is to be woven into a story outside of yourself, an ancient history bound together by hundreds of thousands of years of sisterhood.

Motherhood is sisterhood.
It is community.
It is strength.

To mother is to err, rage, wilt, grow;
To question, doubt, and evolve.
It is to worry and weigh;
It is to change and be changed.

To mother is to mentor, curate, guide, heal;
To listen, defend, teach, and learn.
It is to hold;
It is to comfort and be comforted.

It is to apologize and to give thanks.

Motherhood is trying.
Motherhood is jubilant.
It exposes us to the far reaches of the human experience.

To mother is to feel so deeply, to love so fiercely, that you welcome an unknown future with open arms, because in that future, with all of your tomorrows, lies your whole heart.

On Turning 30

It’s my birthday tomorrow!

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Oscar is my spirit animal. [Source]

My thirtieth birthday.

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Hah hah heh hoo h-what?? [Source]

I’ll freely admit that I’ve always been the type to enjoy my birthdays. As my parents were quick to remind me recently, I used to celebrate the entire week, sometimes the entire month. Therefore it has come as quite a surprise that under the expected level of excitement (which, I will also admit, has waned with each passing year), there’s a creeping sense of dread this time around. Okay, “dread” may be a bit hyperbolic, but it’s apprehension at the very least. I don’t feel anywhere near 30; it completely snuck up on me.

As these feelings have deepened over the last few months, I’ve been extraordinarily contemplative. At first, the idea of this “birthday anxiety,” for lack of a better term, seemed absurd enough that I dismissed it outright. But here I am, hours away from the big day and the trepidation has only increased.

Rationally, I know it’s just another year. Despite the seemingly advancing pace of my life, I also know that each year feels faster because its relative length is shorter as I add more years to my life. (This article sheds more light on the psychology of time.) Surely part of my melancholy can be attributed to how damn fast everything is going by these days. As a human being, especially in the age of constant activity, it’s hard to remember to stop and enjoy every moment. Life does pass quickly. And though I don’t think of it this way often, its rapid pace can serve as a reminder that each year brings you closer to the grave. Part of me wonders if my discomfort with this milestone is because of this, but if I’m being honest with myself, I know there’s more to it.

Unlike the past few birthdays, 30 feels different. Thirty is fully within adulthood. I feel comfortable calling myself a woman now instead of a kid or a girl. In fact, I hate when I’m referred to in those ways. I’m not a spring chicken anymore, able to excuse reckless behavior, mistakes, or just plain idiocy on being young, naive, and carefree. The truth is that I’m no longer any of those things.

I often still feel 22, but, let me tell you, paying a recent visit to my college campus with the two kids in tow was the quickest way I could have imagined to confirm that I do not, in fact, have much in common with 22-year-olds. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t grieve my college years. I genuinely miss that freedom, lack of real-life responsibility, to-die-for metabolism, and youthful appearance. I look back very fondly at that time, which, as a friend recently told me, must mean that I did it right. Part of my birthday reflection has made me realize that, especially in a society that unabashedly–and foolishly–values youth as much as it does, it’s hard not to feel, at least a little bit, like you’re growing more irrelevant and less attractive just by doing what nature intends you to do.

Then that college nostalgia subsides and I look in the mirror to see the creases forming around my eyes, mouth, and forehead that betray my extra years. The extra years of living a full life. I am more experienced now, in ways that I couldn’t have anticipated just eight years ago.

At 30, my modicum of hard-earned wisdom is starting to earn respect from society, albeit a fickle one that has, ironically, simultaneously started to devalue my appearance. No longer am I treated like a clueless child. If I am, I no longer tolerate it. Each year brings a new level of confidence in myself, in my voice, and in my ability to speak my mind. Run-of-the-mill highs and lows aside, I feel confident, proud, and accepting of who I am. Happily, this includes a newfound respect for my brain, my heart, and my body (human bodies are amazing things and I’m determined to be more reverent of mine). I may not be perfect, but I love who I am. And, at 30, I’m finally ready to move on from people who don’t, without looking back. My energy is for positive influences only, please and thank you.

On the flip side, I recognize that I’m not old yet either. Thirty is a nice little sweet spot of vivaciousness where I have the energy and wherewithal to live life fully but not stupidly. It’s sweet, that is, until I’m around a teenager who looks at me like I’m the Cryptkeeper.

cyrpt

Incidentally, this is also how I felt as I walked around campus. When did college kids start looking like middle schoolers? [Source]

As refreshing as it is to finally feel so comfortable in my own skin, turning 30 has made me realize there’s a strange dichotomy to growing older. On the one hand, you know yourself on a deeper level. On the other, you realize you don’t know a single damn thing about anything.

Like most kids, I guess I expected I’d have a lot more figured out by 30. While I take comfort in the fact that I don’t think anyone ever has anything all figured out (if nothing else, my 29 years have taught me this much), I think it’s natural to feel a little uneasy when you realize life doesn’t exactly come with a road map.

The trajectory of my life is something I wouldn’t change for the entire world. Here I am, about to turn 30, with my health, two incredible kids, a phenomenally supportive husband, an adorable–if occasionally irritating–dog, two sets of devoted parents, two loving grandparents, and a whole host of family and friends who would drop everything for me. I’ve had great work experience, even if I’m temporarily pausing from it, I’ve traveled across the world, I’ve gone on crazy adventures, and I’ve generally lived with no regrets. Needless to say, I recognize that I’m fortunate, privileged, and I have a whole hell of a lot for which to be grateful.

I’m lucky, that is for sure.

In the last few months, though, I’ve been thinking hard about the expectations I had for my life when I was still a fresh-faced adult. I never would have thought I’d marry young or have two kids by 30. Yet here I am, married for seven years with a baby on my hip and a toddler scream-singing “Let It Go” in the next room. And I’m loving it. I’m not even sure what exactly I thought life would be, but I look back at that kid and just think of how endless my opportunities were. I could have studied and become anything I wanted. I could have lived anywhere, done anything, been whomever I wanted. My future was largely a blank slate. There’s something to be said for being 18 with the world at your fingertips. You may be a bit wet behind the ears, but you still have so much ahead of you.

It was while reflecting on this limitless potential that I finally figured out that part of my uneasiness with turning 30 was realizing that I’m now officially old enough that some doors are just plain closed. To a certain extent, the course of my life has now been solidly established. It’s a strange thing to explore, because I love the way life has turned out so far. But there’s still a small part of me that wonders, “What if?” What if I hadn’t met my husband in college? What if I had lived abroad post-graduation? What if I had chosen a different career? What if I were still working?

I’m inspired by people who make huge life changes later in life (like, later in life; I know 30 is not that), because I still wonder what I want to be when I grow up. Add to that uncertainty the whole back and forth between expectation and reality, what I thought I’d have accomplished by now versus what I actually have, and it’s no wonder that I think often about my life’s purpose and future legacy.

In having this constant inner dialogue in the back of my mind, I’ve come to realize that some of this dilemma is simply related to being in the trenches of early parenthood. When you’re taking care of another person’s every need, it’s easy to feel like you are a little lost. Even more complicated is mixing in the realization that, though you devote your entire life to your children, they are young enough that they wouldn’t even remember you if you were to die. It’s morbid, but it’s true. These thoughts are so heavy, it’s easy to sometimes feel like I’m drowning in an existential crisis, trying to complete a puzzle that is inherently incompletable and ever-changing.

The more I think about it, however, the more I realize that I’d probably be asking myself the same questions regardless of my life path. I’d still be wondering what would have been, it’s just that the content would be different. Talking to friends who are experiencing these same feelings, despite living completely different lives, has validated to me that this is normal. I guess by 30, you’re smart enough to perform some regular self-evaluation and introspection. You’re also smart enough to release a sigh of relief with the decisions you’ve made.

While I’m not sure what the future holds, one thing is for sure. It’s pretty awesome to be satisfied with the person you’ve become and the life you’ve built so far. If I had to choose to do it all over again, I probably wouldn’t change a thing (well, maybe fewer tequila shots and cookie binges). I may not be curing cancer or winning the Pulitzer (yet!), but I am proud of my sphere of influence as it stands. I like to think I make a small difference in the lives of those around me, and if that ultimately becomes my legacy, then I’ll be proud of it.

Unless I somehow get to travel across the multi-verse, I’ll never find out where life could have taken me. But I’m realizing now that turning 30 is not only about trusting your body, your heart, and your mind, but learning to trust that you are where you are meant to be as well.

2 Years & 20 Days: Welcome to the Circus

Earlier this week, I walked into my apartment and thought I had been robbed. The furniture was askew, the chairs were flipped over, shredded garbage peppered the floor, and I couldn’t help but notice a particularly ripe smell. I quickly threw the (sleepy, cranky) toddler into the crib and set the car seat-bound baby on the floor before rushing to investigate further. “Jesus, someone broke into our apartment and stole our dog,” I thought to myself. I couldn’t find him anywhere–and in a small apartment, he’s not exactly a needle in a haystack. My heartbeat pulsed rapidly as I searched. Finally, I heard a muted, high-pitched whine. I opened the bathroom door and whoosh went the dog, running frantically with newfound freedom. His head was completely encased in an empty oats container, partially gnawed through so he could breathe. The container took away his peripheral vision, meaning he clumsily ran around our apartment while I continued to take in my doomsday-like surroundings. The best surprise of all was the smattering of dog poop scattered around the (small, totally easy-to-avoid) rug. What a delightful surprise.

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Me, coming home today.

[Source]

Based on the evidence, I suspect the dog rifled through the recycling, stuck his head way too far down the oatmeal tube, and got stuck. Then he proceeded to freak the F out, running around the apartment, anxiously pooping on the carpet, fleeing to the bathroom, and accidentally closing the door on himself.

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Because pic or it didn’t happen.

This story is relevant because it’s pretty reflective of the overall chaos that is now my life. Many people have asked what it’s like to transition to two kids (who are two years and 20 days apart), so let me lay it out.

Welcome to the Circus…

…where bodily fluids know no bounds

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If this were me, the whole shirt would be soaked. [Source]

In the last eight hours alone, I’ve been on the receiving end of a trifecta of bodily fluids, none of which were mine. (The unexpected bonus of being peed, pooped, and thrown up on is that you can feel very justified in leaving the dishes for your husband to wash.)

This damp menagerie, combined with the copious amounts of sweat I shed due to postpartum hormones and a practically built-on human furnace, means this mom is now often mistaken for a swamp monster.

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What a typical Millennial to include a selfie. [Source]

…where “germy” has taken on a whole new meaning

On a related, but worth-mentioning-on-its-own, note is the amount of germs that have taken this household hostage (despite constant efforts to sanitize). In case you’ve never been around a two-year-old, I’m going to let you in on a little secret: kids are gross.

Life to a toddler is a germy treasure hunt. The most-touched button in a museum exhibit? Leave it to a toddler to decide that’s the perfect time to suck his fingers. Find a cigarette butt on the ground? Better not turn around or it’s going in the kid’s mouth. Walked through urine puddles in the subway on the way home? Perfect time to treat the bottom of his shoe like an ice cream cone! To a toddler, learning he can use his diaper’s contents like finger paint is like winning the lottery. (Luckily, this last one has yet to happen to us. Sorry, Julie.)

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“If it exists, I licks.” [Source]

Toddlers have ownership rights to this sweet spot of revulsion where the disgusting things they think to put in their mouths are almost on pace with the disgusting things they expel. Snot is such an everyday sight anymore, I don’t even notice it. In a toddler’s mind, leaving any of the body’s many orifices unexplored is a missed opportunity. To their credit, their two-year-old fingers are the perfect size for their nostrils.

The new Baby Bear had a cold when she was just two weeks old thanks to her big brother deciding to use her hand as a tissue. (The next day, he sneezed into my mouth. My MOUTH.) Sure it sucked to have a congested newborn, but I figured at this rate, she’ll be a beast by the time she goes to kindergarten.

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A mother can only hope her child will be this kick-ass. [Source]

Being a mom to a toddler is like exposure therapy for germaphobes. You can use all the vinegar water and soap you want to try to keep things clean, but you can’t avoid a toddler’s grubby hands forever. I try to take comfort in the germs; with each cold comes a more formidable immune system for the entire family.

…where I learn as I go

I like to think of myself as a fairly laid-back person, at least as evidenced by my laissez-faire approach to germs. If there’s anything I’ve learned so far, it’s that kids are constantly changing and that parents adapt quickly as a result. No one knows what they’re doing, not really. Therefore there’s no sense in worrying too much about every little thing; it’s much less stressful to just figure it out as you go.

This second time around is no different. Yes, certain things were harder at first, like simultaneously carrying a sleeping toddler and a car seat up the stairs to the apartment. But with each passing day, my confidence grows. That, or I fail, have no choice but to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, and learn for the next time.

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“How are you going to do [insert activity here] with a newborn and a toddler?” [Source]

…where my days are measured by coffee, wine, and diapers

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Honestly one of my favorite things about going to bed at night is knowing coffee awaits me in the morning.

As much as I like to think I’m still “cool,” having two kids has finally forced to acknowledge that my version of “cool” has drastically changed over the last few years. Gone are the days where I’d be able to attend a play’s opening night at the drop of a hat or direct friends to the best bachelorette hot spot. I’m aware that clubs still exist, but I’d be hard pressed to tell you the last time I entered one. That said, knowing the most entertaining playgrounds or the best kid-friendly breweries is valuable, too, and in those terms, I’ve got you covered. (Did I mention how stereotypically important booze is to me as a mom of young kids?)

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Me, talking to early 20-somethings. [Source]

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m extremely grateful for the ways staying at home has changed my priorities and given me more room to live now that I’m not tied to a desk. (But I’ll be the first to admit there are many days where a desk, some deadlines, and, hell, even meetings sound more appealing than having a toddler weasel his way into my personal space all day.)

However, while I’ve been a mom for two years now, I’m still occasionally hit with the peculiar realization that my daily life is now marked by the number of times I’ve changed a diaper, my ability to find that one car my two-year-old suddenly cannot live without, or the constant question of how many cups of coffee a day are still within reason. When asked what’s new in my life, I immediately, without thought, respond with what’s new with my family. My sense of self is harder to pin down now that my entire life is devoted to being responsible for two other, mostly helpless, lives. Self-care and alone time are still very important to me, and I have a lot of support to allow for them, but my self feels less pronounced right now. Grappling with who I am and the uncertainty of who I will be when the kids are grown is difficult.

As uncomfortable as it is to sit with that uncertainty, I am slowly learning to embrace it. If the blurry pace of the last two years is any indication, it’ll all be over before I know it and I’ll look back longingly on these harried days. My accomplishments may be of the playdate-related variety right now, but, dammit, they’re still mine.

…where my brain has turned to mush

Another reason my sense of self has faded is simply because I regularly feel like I’m losing my mind. It may not seem hard, but staying at home with a toddler is extremely mentally, physically, and emotionally taxing (hence the aforementioned wine and coffee). Chasing after a human being who repeatedly ignores me, throws himself down on questionable surfaces (read: parking lots, sidewalks, mud), and thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to sit in his own excrement is nothing short of exhausting. That’s not even taking into account the newborn who literally feeds off me for hours on end. Plus, kids are inadvertently skilled at the fine art of gaslighting.

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Me, after being forced to listen to “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” for 62 minutes straight. (This is not an exaggeration.) [Source]

I like to think it’s the lack of sleep and influx of hormones, but nowadays I’m lucky if I can properly string together enough words to form a decent sentence. In the grocery store yesterday, I found myself garbling verb conjugations to the point where I sounded more like English was my fourth language than my first. I used to fancy myself a valuable trivia partner, but lately I have a hard enough time remembering simple, everyday nouns, like “goggles,” much less when they were first used in the Olympics (answer: 1976). Try as I may to keep up with current events, pop culture, and literature, you’re not going to get much out of me lately unless you’re asking about the verses of “Wheels on the Bus.”

To make matters worse, I’ve taken these diminished language and general knowledge skills to the streets and have become accustomed to narrating my thoughts and actions throughout the day. This is perfectly benign when my toddler is in tow, but it becomes markedly more disturbing when I’m alone and using a sing-song voice to tell no one in particular that I have to go to the bathroom.

It’s hard to feel like you can add much value to a conversation when you’re constantly preoccupied with someone else’s well-being. Luckily I still do a few things that help keep me sharp, like reading and playing board games. Can I tell you about the author’s use of symbolism or the best strategies to win? No, but ask me to tell you the color of the book’s cover or if the board game box had letters on it? Now, that I know.

…where sleep is the world’s most precious commodity

You think you’ll never forget how sleep-deprived you were when your first child was born. Much like the intensity of childbirth, you can hazily recall that it was hard to get through, but you really don’t remember the details. It must be the body’s way of helping us decide to continue populating the earth. Then your second comes and pushes that sleep deprivation right back down your throat. Except this time, you’ll wonder why the hell you ever thought your newborn was hard.

Yeah, newborns wake up at night, but you know the hard part about two? You don’t get to “sleep when the baby is sleeping.” Instead, you are forced to get your weary ass out of bed at the crack of dawn (otherwise known as a toddler’s favorite time to warm up his vocal chords with a most spirited rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game”).

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“Is he…is he SINGING at 6:00 A.M.?!?!” [Source]

Then you must entertain said toddler as they Tasmanian Devil their way through the day.

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Oh look, someone took a video of my toddler in the park! [Source]

I recently Googled “sleep deprivation Geneva Convention” to confirm that it is indeed recognized by the UN as a form of torture. It is often said that children are little sociopaths, and now I have proof.

My response when people ask how I look “refreshed”?

…where nap time is not to be taken for granted

I never realized how vital to my very existence nap time had become until it slowly started to fade away. My toddler has gone about 50% of the last three weeks without a nap at all. Before that, he reliably slept for three hours each day. (Yes, I was spoiled.) Now, every day is a crap-shoot as to whether or not he’ll go down easily, have a theatrical conversation with himself, scream at the top of his lungs, cry his eyes out, or some strange combination of the bunch. No matter how hard I try to follow our same old routine, this enigmatic dance often results in me quite literally ripping out my hair (figuratively were it not for my trichotillomania, but that’s for another day).

To give you a clue how it normally goes down, here’s footage of our typical nap time conversation.

Me:

My toddler:

Me:

Sometimes, if I’m very, very lucky, I can channel my inner wizard to get both kids to nap at the same time. Those moments?

…where I find my zen by whatever means necessary

Other times, the magical nap moments don’t happen and I’m left with the ongoing urge to scream and/or cry.

As is quickly becoming the theme of the post, toddlers are hard. They know how to push your buttons; it’s what they do. As such, it’s only natural that you occasionally feel rage. Sometimes it results in yelling. Other times, it results in the desire to shake them so they just. stop. whining. (It’s not talked about much, but everyone I know how has experienced this feeling before. It is normal and doesn’t make you a bad mom so long as you don’t act on it.)

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“STOP THROWING YOUR FOOD ON THE FLOOR!!” [Source]

Any time I feel this ragey Mom Hulk come out, I immediately feel a guilty pit form in my stomach. Over time, I’ve learned the best thing to do when I feel it coming on is to make sure everyone’s safe before walking away for a minute. Honestly, we both benefit from the space.

Though I’m not really one for meditation, becoming a mother of two has greatly increased my appreciation for silence. You know you’re in a silence deficit when you drive by a cemetery and think, “Wow, I bet it’d be so peaceful to sit in there by myself.” Lately, the most alone time I get is in the bathroom. I have therefore started to sneak away when Papa Bear gets home just to go sit on the toilet by myself with no one touching or talking to me. Soon maybe I’ll figure out how to bring in a cocktail without raising suspicion.

Until recently, I never thought a bathroom could feel like this:

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*Cheerfully* “All by myseelf…” [Source]

…where TV is the greatest invention known to mankind

I’m the first to admit that we probably watch an unhealthy amount of TV in our house. Before kids, I thought we’d be the type of parents to limit TV to only a few 30-minute shows a week, if at all. Now, I’m pleased if we only watch a few 30-minute shows a day. If you stay home and still don’t watch any TV, then major props to you. I’m not sure how you do it.

At least for me, with a newborn who wakes up all night and a toddler who starts each day at 6:30, I’m just doing what I have to do to survive. Sometimes I muster the energy to read, play with toys, or get a jump-start on breakfast. Other times I turn on the boob tube, sit on the couch, and let my coffee do its magic.

I only casually watch the shows I play for him (typically in desperation to see how much time is left), but I’ve seen enough to become highly critical of some of today’s children’s programming. For instance, why does Daniel Tiger’s mom wear pants when Daniel and his dad don’t? Does Mickey’s Toodles have all that random crap because he’s a closet hoarder? And don’t even get me started on what an asshole Thomas’s friend James is. Luckily for me, my toddler’s attention span is finally long enough to sit and watch an entire feature-length film. Unluckily for me, he wants to watch the same ones repeatedly.

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If I have to watch Cars 2 one more time, I’m gonna be ka-chout of my mind. [Source]

…where the car can become a torture chamber

It’s hard to explain, but if you’re a mom you’ll know what I mean when I say a kid’s cries go straight to his mom’s heart. Kids’ screams send some kind of biological signal that makes a mom’s stress level rise and stomach turn. It’s hard enough with one, but now that I have two children who occasionally sync their wails while I’m driving? Well, let’s just say this is me when we finally get to where we’re going.

…where small accomplishments count

Take a shower? Wash a dish? Work out? Keep your kids alive all day? Get out of the house? Or, *gasp* put on real pants?  I’m not gonna lie; if I do any of these on a given day, I try to allow myself to feel like the badass I am.

…where I sometimes just have to accept pandemonium

Patting myself on the back for the little successes is helpful to some degree, but sometimes there’s just so much chaos that there’s no choice but to give in to it. I often think, “This is my life now.” So my toddler watched five hours of TV and ate ketchup and cantaloupe for lunch. So I’m covered in vomit and my kid is drinking water out of the dog bowl. Who cares? It’s times like these where I try to acknowledge that I’m doing the best I can, that we usually have better days, and that there’s nothing more to do than laugh at the outrageousness of the moment. Honestly, these times usually make for the best stories anyway (see oatmeal story above).

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“Do I care if that gets marked on with pen?” is a question I ask myself more than I’d like to admit. The answer has increasingly been “no.” [Source]

…where my family and friends mean the world to me

I would be an absolute basket case, or arguably more of one than I am now, were it not for my friends and family. We’ve had such an outpouring of support in these last few months and I couldn’t be more grateful. To everyone who has reached out, helped us, or shown us love, thank you.

…where the sweet moments make it all worthwhile

The literal blood, sweat, and tears are hard. The increased mom guilt is harder. The sleepless nights, aches and pains, roaring hormonal shifts, occasional questioning of my sanity–all of it is nothing compared to those moments that make my heart melt. There is nothing quite like seeing Big Brother Bear cuddle up next to his baby sister, turn to me, and say, “Mommy, Baby Sister is so cute!” Better still is hearing, “I love you, Mommy.” It’s moments like these that erase all of the crazy ones.

My toddler may be a little nutcase at times, but he is genuinely invested in his sister’s well-being; he loves to rock her, give her kisses, hold her, and tell me when she’s crying. Lately, he’s big on giving everyone hugs and kisses. He is generally laid-back and listens well relative to many toddlers. He’s such a sweet, empathetic, adventurous, carefree, and funny kid, and I feel humbled to know that I’ve at least partly helped shape who he is. Sure, my patience may be tested on a regular basis, but knowing that it’s to help him learn and grow and blossom is more rewarding than anything I’ve ever experienced before. If I can replicate this to even a small degree with my daughter, I will have hit the jackpot.

Having the two of them has taught me that I’m happy to be a means to an end if it means the end is as wonderful as it’s been along the way.

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Me, when I realize I must not be doing so poorly (and I’ve had coffee). [Source]

It might be Crazy Town, but at least I’m the mayor.

In many ways, I still feel like I’m 20 years old. Therefore the realization that I am two months shy of 30 with two children often hits me like a ton of bricks. Then I take a look around at our beautifully chaotic existence and realize it’s just the beginning of the rest of our lives. And so far it’s shaping up to be amazing.

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We’re doing it! [Source]

[Featured image source]

Pardon the Interruption

Why hello there! This will be a very short post, but in an effort to dust off the ol’ keyboard after months of silence, I wanted to announce my return to blogging.

A lot has been happening in the Bear/Wear household. We went on a trip to the Netherlands (blog forthcoming, I hope), traveled around the States a bit, celebrated Baby Bear’s second birthday (I can’t believe it either), and have generally been busier than ever. Oh, and the other small update I’d be remiss to forget: Baby Bear got a big promotion.

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There’s a new Bear in town.

That’s right, Baby Bear’s official new title is Big Brother Bear. We welcomed our darling daughter in late July, and are finally settling in to our new “normal.”

Ideas for the blog have been swirling around my head for months, but until now I seriously lacked the energy to do anything about it. God willing, I hope to get back into the swing of things with several new posts in the coming weeks.

Some things you have to look forward to? Why you should visit the Netherlands during tulip season, what it’s like to be pregnant with a toddler, book recommendations from Big Brother Bear and me, an honest look at the transition to two, a whole bunch of board games for you to try, my birth stories, TV you should be watching, some new Chicago highlights, and much more.

In the meantime, I’m looking for ideas on how to shorten Big Brother Bear. BB Bear? No, too similar to Baby Bear. Bro Bear? Nah, sounds like a fratty deodorant. Biggy Bear? It kind of reminds me of a D-list rapper, but I’m totally down with this one. I welcome your suggestions, too.

I’m back at it, y’all, and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve missed you!

Until soon,

Mama Bear 2.0

 

 

 

[Featured image source]

One Week Later: How to Cope

What a week.

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[Source: Instagram @momowelch]

So much has happened since I wrote on inauguration day that it’s difficult to find a single source to summarize it. Just for my own record, let’s do a quick recap.

The First Week

President Trump (a term that still triggers my gag reflex, and probably will for the foreseeable future) signed a record 14 executive orders and presidential memoranda during his first week in office (notably missing one about ethics). This included the overturn of the Affordable Care Act, the reinstatement of the “Mexico City policy” that bans foreign aid to international nongovernmental organizations that perform or discuss abortion, the revival of the XL Keystone and Dakota Access pipeline projects, the order to start construction on the Mexican border wall, and, most recently, the “temporary” ban of Syrian refugees and blockage of all visa applicants from seven primarily Muslim countries. That list doesn’t even include everything. His administration also coined the now-satirized term “alternative facts,” ordered a “media blackout” at the EPA and U.S. Department of Agriculture, continued to spew misinformation about voter fraud, and demoted the Director of National Intelligence and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff while promoting chief strategist (and alt-right conspiracy theorist) Steve Bannon to the National Security Council. Even that doesn’t cover everything. Pass the wine.

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More, more, more.

[Source]

If you feel your head spinning and blood pressure rising, you are not alone. We are in unprecedented times of political chaos (perhaps a redundant phrase in today’s world). I waited all week, in vain, for things to slow down. With each passing day, my anxiety and sense of heartbreak grew. By Friday evening, I experienced a strong urge to shut down completely simply to maintain my dwindling sense of sanity.

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Me by Friday night.

[Source]

As dizzying as the last nine days were, it’s important to remember some not-so-minor victories, if you will, along the way. Chief among those was the global Women’s March, where nearly 5 million women around the world marched for women’s rights, human rights, and equality. I was lucky enough to participate and the feeling I left with was, to say the least, one of hope.

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Some of my favorite signs from the Chicago Women’s March.

Another wonderful turn of events was the amount of rogue environmental and scientific Twitter accounts that emerged amidst the media blackout. And, because facts matter, it looks like there will be a Scientists’ March on Washington later this year, too. #sciencenotsilence

We also saw a short-term victory regarding the federal stay preventing the deportation of people detained as a result of Trump’s ban on refugees. In all of this, we must remember that the law still matters. The Constitution still matters. Even though these executive actions have been signed, that doesn’t necessarily mean they will come to fruition. Executives orders are still subject to judicial review. It’s also possible for Congress to create laws that would make funding for some of Trump’s endeavors harder (like the Mexican border wall, if we’re lucky). It’s startling that Trump has so quickly tackled some of the most controversial issues by way of executive action, therefore bypassing the approval of Congress, but what I’m here to remind you of is that it’s not necessarily the end of the story.

Wait, Isn’t This a ‘Mom Blog’?

“Wow,” you might say, “for a ‘mom blog’ she’s sure spending a lot of time writing about politics.” You’d be right, though I would like to clarify that the blog is self-described as one about babies, board games, and books. So you’d be a third right.

Maybe this political environment has no close ties to board games or books (except for the best-selling 1984, of course), but it absolutely does relate to babies and motherhood.

As a mother–as a parent–you are forced to confront a lot about yourself: your passions, your strengths and weaknesses, your ideals, and your values. You must think about what it is you want to pass on to your children (and what you don’t), and, hopefully, what kind of people you hope they become. It’s a heavy exercise, especially since we don’t necessarily think about our values in those terms very often. What we value is woven into our very fiber; it’s what makes us who we are. This is exactly why politics and motherhood go hand-in-hand.

Many of the things I hold dearest to me, the things I want to pass on to my children, like equality, kindness, and compassion, are being threatened right now in this bizarre political environment. The lessons I am trying to instill in my son are in direct conflict with what is being taught by our nation’s leadership. While he’s too young to understand what’s happening, I fear for the school-aged children who are learning that facts apparently don’t matter and can be made up to suit your needs. I fear that our children are watching the fear-mongering and learning that it’s okay to hate people who are different from you. It’s a (real) fact that bullying is up since the election and this is frightening.

Though I may not be able to control what kids around the country are absorbing or how it is shaping them for the future, I absolutely can speak up, make a difference, and one day tell my children that I did everything I could to fight for what was right.

This is why I have been writing about politics, why I’ve been thinking more about politics than ever before, why I’ve been calling my representatives, and why I now consider myself to be a political activist. If not for me or my generation, I’m doing it for our children. Our children, because what we do or don’t do now could have long-lasting effects on every child around the world. We are global citizens and the world and its children are watching.

How to Deal with…Everything

Now, before I go on even further, I must say that this week has made me realize two things, if nothing else. The first is why I am so invested in politics (see above). The second is that this investment has the real ability to eat away at my mental well-being. The anxiety and frustration I felt each time I read the news are simply not sustainable for my health or that of my family.

With the help of friends and therapist (I firmly believe everyone would benefit from talking to someone), here are my suggestions for how to cope.

Stay informed with trusted sources

First we must accept that this is reality. Denying that this is the world in which we live is not going to help any of us in the long run. I don’t identify with Trump in the least, but I do acknowledge that he won the democratic election and is now our president. In fact, I firmly disagree with the #notmypresident movement. It’s unhealthy for us to reject the truth because we don’t agree with it. On the contrary, we have to face it before we can move forward and make progress.

Once we come to terms with Trump as our new POTUS, we owe it to ourselves to stay informed. Instead of allowing myself to click from article to article–a surefire way to make my head spin–I am going to gather my news from a few trusted sources and try hard to filter out the rest of the noise unless I decide I want more information.

Some sources I recommend:

For an informative daily conglomeration of news, I recommend theSkimm.

Acknowledge your feelings

Just as it is healthy to accept reality, it is also okay to accept how we feel at face value. Trying to suppress or control our thoughts and feelings is a pointless exercise. We are human beings and should be allowed to fully experience a range of thoughts and emotions without self-judgment. The key is to not let them control our lives.

The next time I feel anxious about politics, I am going to try to acknowledge that anxiety for what is and let it pass without winding me into knots and turning into full-fledged panic.

Focus your energy

As hard as it is to not feel deeply about everything I read, I have decided that I must narrow my focus for the sake of my mental health. Plus, by focusing on a few key issues that mean the most to me, I am probably going to be more knowledgeable about those issues and therefore have a greater overall impact. That’s not to say I wouldn’t make a call to my representatives about something else, but my goal is to not get so far in the weeds on everything I come across. My brain needs some breathing room.

As of right now, here are the issues on which I plan to focus.

  1. Human rights, which is a generic category I’m using to include women’s rights, equality, refugee rights, etc.
  2. The environment, because I want my children and my children’s children to have a place to live.
  3. Education, because it is our duty as adults to secure a quality education for our children.

Get involved

Remember: our representatives are public servants. They work for us and therefore need to know what we’re thinking in order to do their jobs well. Are you passionate about a certain cause or bill? Contact your representatives.

Figuring out where to start

There’s an overwhelming amount of information about how we can get involved with our government and it’s hard to know what’s most effective or what exactly to say. I encourage you to subscribe to organizations that align with your values (for me this includes Planned Parenthood Action Fund, the American Civil Liberties Union, and the Natural Resources Defense Council to name a few). Following organizations like these on social media or subscribing to their email alerts is a helpful way to stay informed about what’s happening with the issues you care about and how you may be able to make a difference. Donations to these organizations are also a great starting point.

In addition to following individual organizations, I also really like things that package together easy-to-accomplish calls to action like you find at Donuts and Democracy, 10 Actions / 100 Days, and 5 Calls.

Voicing your opinion

No one really loves to talk to strangers on the phone, but from what I’ve read, it seems a phone call carries a lot more weight than an email in terms of getting through to your Congressperson.

Tips for the call:

  1. Be nice; the staffers have to listen to strangers rant to them all day long.
  2. Provide your name, city, and zip.
  3. State the issue and your position, then ask for the representative’s position.
  4. If (s)he agrees with you, tell the person taking the call that you support the rep’s position. If (s)he disagrees with you or is undecided, have a short prompt written to recap your position and why you encourage the rep to consider your stance.
  5. Say “thank you.” The Golden Rule and all that.

Find your Senators here and find your U.S. Representatives here.

Treat yo self

It is no coincidence that I started binge-watching The Vampire Diaries on Netflix this week. For a blissful 40 minutes an episode, I could focus on fictional bloodsuckers instead of the real ones at the helm of our country. Whatever it is that you enjoy, give in and indulge a little. We all need ways to decompress and relax. If that’s watching two attractive 30-year-old actors pretend to be 17, embrace it.

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Moral of the Story

It’s been an arduous nine days. Honestly, as much as I hope you enjoyed reading this post, the primary reason for me writing it was for my own catharsis (mission accomplished!). However, there is a potentially long road ahead of us, for all of us, regardless of party affiliation, and it’s important that we help each other digest the rapid-fire changes taking place in our country. The sooner we can accept what is happening and how it may conflict with our own values and moral code, the sooner we can decide how to fight against it.

The term “fight” seems strong, and I hate to keep repeating it because it feels a little contradictory to my positivity goal, but there really is no better way to say it. In trying times, we must fight for what we hold dear. And without sounding even more dramatic, I plan to prepare for this fight like any good soldier. I will stay informed, in tune with myself and my mental well-being, focused, and active. I will also comfortably indulge in life’s simple pleasures like television, romance novels, and ice cream. (That’s how soldiers prepare, right?)

This is just the beginning, but already I am ready.

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We would all benefit from channeling a woman who is this confident in red lipstick and a skin-tight leather suit.

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