Loving Yourself First

What does that mean exactly?  Me being the positive, the glass-is-half-full kinda girl - I'm drawn to sayings such as this one: love yourself first, and everything else will follow.  Okay, I get it...however more recently when I read this advice it was in a parenting article.

I thought to myself, okay; they must mean that by portraying love for myself, my child will be more apt to display similar habits and be more confident in general.  But, then I started thinking, as I often do. What about by loving myself, I'll then be more forgiving of my children, therefore more patient, kind....loving.  You get the point.

Or...what about this; love yourself first meaning, giving yourself enough time, whatever amount that is, to rejuvenate.  To be a better mother because you have real you time.  Allowing yourself to get back into that hobby, whether it be writing, drawing, painting...scrapbooking- even if it's just 30 minutes a day, an hour a week, whatever.  If you have more time for you, you'll make sure the time you have with your kids is quality time.  And overall, your family is a healthier, happier unit as a whole.

Or, what about taking care of yourself?  If you love yourself enough to say, I care about how I look, period.  I'm not going to let myself go as so many moms do.  I'm going to eat well, I'm going to excersice.  I'm going to wear makeup or do my hair, or whatever it is that I consider pretty.  I don't know about you, but I always feel better when I'm in better shape, when I've had time to shave my legs...dye those grays...etc.  Doesn't that make me a better mom?  Doesn't that teach my children to take care of themselves as well?

Or is loving yourself just simply saying, I'm good with where I'm at.  I've morphed into this wonderful woman, this great mother.  Yes, I'm not what I was in my 20's.  I'm frumpy some days, I'm carrying around an extra ten pounds, I don't have enough me time, and I don't really care if I have hair long enough on my legs to braid; hey, I'm just lucky if I get in a shower these days. 

I've determined I do love myself.  Maybe not first, but somewhere in the middle.  I'm also my biggest critic, which I'm painfully aware could pass down to my offspring, so while I'm working on this, it is a work in progress.  I think at the end of the day I believe loving yourself is more than just being confident.  It's knowing your flaws, and embracing the ones you can't or aren't willing to change; and working on the others.  It's also knowing your strengths, and while you don't have to flaunt them (yes, we all know a few too many self back-patters) you should use them to your advantage.  Acknowledge them.  Appreciate them more than you focus on the flaws.

For me, loving myself entails much of the above.  It's taking the time I need for me, to be a better mom.  It's having my own life, no matter how little time I actually get to spend enjoying it.  It's feeling love toward my children, and never resentment because I've found a true balance.  It's feeling good about how I look because I take pride in looking good.  I'm just not okay with frumpy, period.  Loving yourself first isn't about being selfish, it's about figuring out what makes you happy, and what makes you, you.  While it's different for everybody, it's much more than simply being confident.    ~ Trina

Toddlers Eating Habits - Just Enough To Keep A Baby Bird Alive?

My child just doesn’t eat.  My husband and I actually read the little sheet the pediatrician gives you; you know the one their assistant prints from some random googled site between her Facebook posts.  It reads “a toddler is only expected to eat as much as a baby bird.”  Check!  We’re good!  That is precisely how much our two-year-old is eating. 

I know what he likes.  At least, this week.  He loves him some green beans and broccoli (no, really!)  And pineapple and raisins.  And beef…taco meat, burger bites, even steak—my diet the first four weeks of his existence in my belly, thanks to many business meetings in Kansas City.  In fact, the first person to know I was pregnant, other than myself, was my KC cabbie shuttling me to the airport the morning my stick showed two pink lines. 

   My husband and I were in agreement that we wouldn’t be those parents–the parents who’d cook up chicken korma with a side of mango chutney and naan just to feed our offspring hot dogs and mac and cheese.  And we aren’t…yet.  We serve a meal and they are expected to eat it.  If they don’t, I guess they’ll figure it out by the next meal that they should eat what they’re served.  However, the trick doesn’t seem to be working.  He doesn’t flinch.  He still doesn’t eat.  He seems to not have eaten a bite.

   Yet, there are those meals where they throw down.  I get such delight in seeing them polish off an entire plate.  I feel accomplished.  Finally, my trice-daily attempt at balanced meals including a protein, grain, vegetable and dairy product (almost always their sippy of milk).  And then it seems he doesn’t eat again for a week.  Still, I take such pride in those fleeting moments.  I take into account the snacks I’d given through the course of the day.  Goldfish seem like the biggest culprit.  Or maybe just milk.  I feel blessed with the fact that they do enjoy the beverage of choice for little men.  But, maybe too much is simply too much when their little bodies are in need of other vitamins and minerals.

   As his primary caregiver, I know I’m presenting him with a nice balance and constantly trying to rework our menu to find something he’ll eat, something that sticks for a while.  There is only so much you can do.  We weigh in healthy at our checkups.  In fact, he is 90th percentile in weight and height, so something is nourishing him.  So, how does he poop?  Cause he poops…today he pooped three times.  I really haven’t figured that one out yet… 

   So, if you’re confident you’re providing a balance of healthy options and they are eating, they are pooping and they are growing, then maybe, in fact, they are eating as much as they need, even if it’s just enough to keep a baby bird alive.   

Working Mommies: It's Time to Let Go of The Guilt!

Why do working moms always feel guilty?  As a working mom myself, I've always felt bad about returning to my job after my daughter was born.  At the time, I didn't have a choice, and when I dropped my three-week-old baby off at daycare that first day, I thought I might die from the heartache.  Those first few months were horrible.  No sleep, no time to myself or for my marriage.  But, I survived.  And with time, I even learned to enjoy life.  I no longer thought about lazy Saturdays, or how it felt to once again eat dinner in peace.  Forty hours at the job- and then every other spare minute living for my family.  That's just how life worked.

The true key is finding a happy-medium that works for you, no matter what that is.  I believe the guilt we feel as working mommas comes mostly from lack of time.  There's only twenty-four hours in a day, and eight of them, we're supposed to be sleeping (ha!).  Then with a career on top of that, we simply can't do it all.  We can't cook, clean, workout, spend time with our spouses, and grocery shop...all the while having and eight-to-five and a needy child or two vying for your attention.  I often wondered how I'd do it all.  For the first few months after my little girl was born, I didn't cook.  Period.   We ate sandwiches or take-out.  I wanted to spend every second with by baby girl, not wasting time over a stove.  That also went for cleaning and everything else, too.

It wasn't long before I got back in the groove, into a schedule that fit my life.  When my son was born, that really added to the equation.  Finding time for everything, plus another child, was tricky.  However once again, the abilities of a mother are amazing; we persevere in times of need.

Here are a few simple tips that have helped me:

1)  A lot of people told me to cook meals on Sundays and then freeze them for a week.  I never liked that idea because Sunday was one of my two days off.  Who wanted to cook all day?  Instead, I searched online and found a wealth of healthy, quick recipes that I could cook in less than thirty minutes.  I'm not saying hamburger helper wasn't a life-saver at times, but I wanted to get into a habit of eating healthy so my kids would do the same.  My favorite thing to make now are casseroles; I cook enough so my husband and I both have a lunch for the next day.  If you follow our blog, you'll have a ton of free, awesome and healthy recipes at your fingertips.

2)   You've got to know your limits.  I've got some friends with two or three kids that work full-time, cook extravagant meals every night, and who up every day to work looking polished and rested.  For me, this is not the case!  If you can find time to do it all and still be sane (I'm not these women are sane!), good for you!  But if you're normal like the rest of us, know that it's okay to have your own limits; there are some things you just can't do.  With my second child, I've found at least thirty minutes to work out, three times a week or so.  With my first child, it just wasn't there.  Am I healthier this time around?  Yes.  Did it kill me to miss out on a year of treadmills and yoga?  No.  You'll be a better mom is you don't over do it.

3)  I need a clean house.  You want to see a crazy lady?  Put some lint on my newly vacuumed carpet and watch me unravel.  I know what you are thinking...two kiddos?  There will be lint, and plenty of it! I've had to really work on accepting the fact that my house will not always be clean, and obsessing over it is wasting precious time.  Ask for help ladies!  Yes, your hubby is just as capable as you are of whipping that vacuum or mop out.  Rather than loathe him every time he walks in from a lazy day of fishing (while you are holding a crying infant, mentally making a checklist of all the things you have left to cram into the day and all the things you hate him for), communicate!  Ask for his help.  My husband always gets frustrated if I don't ask him for and then I give him the silent treatment because I'm pissed off.  One more helpful hint: let him do it his way.  If you try to boss him around and control the situation, he's less likely to help next time.  Yes, you do know how to to laundry better, that's a given.  But practice makes perfect!  Do little bits of anything, every day.  One load of laundry is better than seven on Sunday!  Have the kids help you.  On my days off, it's nice to know that when I'm cooking, or mopping, or cleaning, my four-year-old is right by my side, hindering more than helping, but it's okay!  I feel like it's time well spent.

A wise woman once told me, "You feel guilty no matter what.  You feel guilty when you work, you feel guilty if you stay home.  As a mom, you'll always feel guilty; it's part of life."  Those words stick in my mind whenever I start feeling like I haven't done enough, or that my children have suffered by me working full time. Lets let go of the guilt and just enjoy being a mom, working or not!
~Trina

Magnetic Legs - The Ever-Clingy Toddler

My boys have left me on the couch to play with a truck or dunk a basketball.  I see my “out” and sneak four feet away to the computer which sits on our breakfast bar; I stand and type away.  Most of the time, not even 60 seconds goes by and my youngest toddler is poking me.  “Up, Mama!” 

   I give in and pick him up, thinking I can hold him on my hip like he were still 10 months old and he’ll be content.  No.  He wants to type or rather, bang on the keyboard.  Or press a button.  Or reach… reach for my Cherry Coke Zero.  Or feed the fish.  So down he goes, and runs off to chase his older brother.  I try to refocus on the task at hand.  Was I checking my bank statement or writing a post on Facebook?  I have seven open windows on my laptop and this is typical. 

   I feel a pinch on my butt.  He’s back.  Of course I can’t ever get anything done!  So I participate in a new trick that occupies him for a good two minutes.  I lift my right leg up in some sort of ballet pose and rest it on the arm of our toddlerized couch.  This allows my left leg to act as a pole upon which my little boy holds onto and circles around and around and around, thoroughly entertained.  Alright!  I finished an e-mail.  Score!  His older brother sees this fun from across the room and joins in. Before it ends with the two knocking heads, I’ve balanced my budget.  I’m excited I’m taking care of biz-niss!  This is the longest stretch of time I’ve had since last night when they went to bed. 

   My two-and-a-half year old is now tugging at my pants, the drawstring coming loose and the waist band is way past my behind. 

   My son laughs. “I see your bootie!”

   I pull them up and corral them into the living room for some dancing.  With Madonna or the Black Eyed Peas on the TV, we have fun, twirling and laughing.  They soon get distracted and move on to their Jeep.  I’m quick to take advantage and jump up to get some writing done. 

   As though my legs are some sort of magnetic force that neither of them can stay away from for too long, my oldest decides to use his latest technique to get my attention as he rams his whole body into my leg and pushes me like I’m a tackling sled on some football field (if this is the sport he ends up excelling in, I’ll retract my annoyance with it).  I hold onto the counter top with one hand, while I continue to use the mouse with my right.  I’m leaning in what I’m sure is some great yoga pose, before hearing him tell me he did something sweet to his brother and thus deserves candy as a treat – I made the mistake of giving him some M&Ms one day when I saw him unexpectedly share a toy with his little bro.  Since then, he’ll do something sweet and then come to me for his prize.  I look down at him and say, “I think what you did was really awesome, but you’re not going to get candy this time.”

    “No!” he shouts at me in the deepest voice he can muster at two-and-a-half.  He stomps off. 

   Just as I’m about to finish typing my sentence, my little man is right below me, both arms wrapped around my knee, “Jooss,” he says with adorable, needy eyes.  I decide to call it a day (at least until naptime) and grab his juice and join him and his brother in the living room for some snuggling and cartoons.

   This back and forth is what I used to do.  I finally figured out the best balance is when I focus on them for an extended period of time, then move on to my projects.  This gives me the chance to provide them with undivided attention and by the time we’re through, they are ready to play with just one another or at least on their own.