An Affair

I want to have an affair.  A love affair.  With myself.  Scandalous, no?

In this blog I want to explore the theme of self love.  Being self-full as opposed to selfish or selfless.  But I want to do it briefly, though it deserves so much more, because I have a mountain of laundry to tackle.  And I have to pee.

I read a post online by a hospice nurse who names the five most common regrets she hears from her patients.

1.  I wish I had the courage to live true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

2.  I wish I didn’t work so hard.

3.  I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

4.  I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

5.  I wish I had let myself be happier.

Okay, I’m getting a little teary.  Aren’t you?  People, these are so attainable! This isn’t a bucket list of sky diving or writing a novel or becoming famous.  This is a mental state of how to live each day. You and I can start right now! And what I hear in these is that people didn’t allow self-love in their lives. 

When you love your essence, when you aren’t ashamed of it, or think it needs to change, the courage is there to follow your own dreams.  Because nobody’s pessimism can touch your heart, when it’s full of love.  (I am not implying there isn’t room for improvement.  But growth is different from change.) You won’t work so hard for tomorrow that you miss out on today, if today is full of love. All your feelings are valid and true and need no defense when you are okay with yourself.  Friendship, I don’t know what makes friends fall apart.  But I believe that in being true to myself I let myself feel my need for others.  And, wouldn’t everyday be happy if you were in involved in a love affair with yourself?

Is it narcissistic? Well, no.  I am not talking about loving my intellect, or my beauty.  I am not talking about loving myself at the exclusion of others.  I am talking about loving myself so deeply that I can actually be there for others because my needs have been met, and I have what to give.

I have a theory that if I allow true self-love than I will be a much better lover, giver, mother, friend… Everything I give will be from a good place, not resentment or obligation. 

I recently started a women’s group.  I did so because I wanted a deeper connection to the women in my life.  Something more than a surface level friendship.  A place where we can share, our good and our ugly.  I want to have friends.  I have finally allowed myself to accept that my need for human connection is not a weakness.  The solitary man isn’t stronger than me, just less of aware of his humanity and needs.

Anyway, we did this exercise where we took turns being held by the group.  Literally held in the air.  Totally supported, weightless. It was beautiful.  And one friend shared with me her experience.  She said that when we lifted her, her first thought was, I must be injured or otherwise incompetent, that I need to be supported. 

Isn’t that something?  In order to be supported we must be less than whole.  We must be needy.  Because if I can stand on my own, why would someone be holding me right now?

What if we hold each other, support each other, when we are whole?  Is it possible that some of us experience illness simply as a way to have an accepted need to be cared for?  This has certainly been true for me.  And, when I don’t receive the care I yearn for, can I give it to myself?

I have been talking to women who themselves, or their friends, are in less than desirable marriages.  Knowing how my marriage has had more ups and downs than the stock market, I guess they feel they can share this with me.  After all, it is so unsafe to share that with someone with a good marriage. All I can share is my experience.  But this is the little nugget of wisdom I have. 

I want to be the woman in the movie who is adored, cherished by her man.  I want to feel that my husband thinks I am the moon, the stars, his everything.  And that he somehow lucked out in life by having me as his wife, and will spend the rest of his life trying to deserve this enormous gift.  Well, that isn’t the case.  In fact, I almost never experience this.  It’s not to say he doesn’t feel this way.  But if he does, he doesn’t express it to me.

So for the past seven years of marriage I have had to learn to self validate.  And it shocked me to learn how little I thought of myself.  How much I actually loathed myself.  Every time I walked into a room I heard a little voice in my head tell me that everyone in that room is really disappointed I showed up.  They are inwardly groaning at my arrival.  This was my self esteem. Leftovers of being the youngest kid? Always feeling like I was an annoying pesk to my sisters? Not being the cool kid in high school?  Always feeling like if I could just be more like ‘them,’ friends would fight for the title ‘best’? Who knows?

Now if I had a husband who simply adored me, would I ever have taken the time to adore myself? Would I love myself? Or would I love how loved I was?  I don’t know.  I have only experienced one side of that coin.  But I am so grateful for the opportunity to get to know myself.  Value who I am.  And, dare I say, love who I am.  Not because I am better than anyone else.  I am most definitely not.  I am not prettier, smarter, more organized, more kind, more giving, more hard working, than any other woman I know.  But I am me.  I am profoundly me. 

And what I am really starting to love about myself: I have the courage to be me. 

1.   Me

2.   Pandora app

3.   The beautiful women who are sharing themselves with me

4.   Nap time

5.   Humor

6.   My one man cheerleader…my papa

7.   Made enough dinner for two nights this morning. (Now that’s self-love!)

By the way, I still have to pee…

Two Brains

Today. Today is a hard day. Today my son decided he would rather have a three hour time out in the laundry room (the only bedroom with a lock on the outside... This makes it the time out room), than go to school today. He came up with the three hours... I'm pretty sure he has no concept of what three hours means.

Here my brain is split in two. The part of my brain that has read parenting books and has slept at night and maybe even got up early and had some coffee, that part is telling me how to handle this in a mature way. Transitions are hard for him, it's saying. Mondays are hard. Have him draw a picture of a three hour time out, and then a picture of a day at school. Have him look at both and then discuss them together. Figure out a reward system for Monday mornings. Tell him you understand, that after the weekend you have a hard time getting back into a schedule too.

Then there's the other half of my brain. This half forgets most of what is has read and is ruled by hormones and emotions. This half hasn't slept in three days due to a teething baby. This half was awoken by said son with the most G-d awful sound of a five year old trying to play a violin. (It could easily be compared to fingernails on a blackboard.)

So guess which half of my brain chose this morning's itinerary?

Yeah, the louder half.

So what's happening right now? My son is experiencing a three hour time out. He gets bathroom breaks and food. I'm not abusive. But I honestly don't know how to tap into my higher self when I don't sleep, have three young, fussy children all demanding my attention, and no obvious support to turn to in these times.

I figure, I'm not yelling, screaming, hitting or hurting anyone. So in many ways I am being a mature parent. And I know that right now, in my state of mind, if I tried to engage with my son and he pulled any of his usual antics, I might not have the clarity to step away before it turns ugly. My threshold is extremely low right now.

So I guess my big question is this: even though I know there are better ways of handling things, if I choose a lesser path due to my compromised state, am I doing the wrong thing?
Really, I'm putting this out there.

What would you do?

And as an aside... He's not in there crying or arguing. I can hear him playing. So don't judge me too harshly.

And now for my goodlist... Which I apparently really need today.

1.Feeling really connected to an amazing group of women

2.Signing for the land on Thursday! (Holy €+*%!)

3.Mother-in-law bought me new, warm socks yesterday.

4.I have coffee now

5.Again, the beautiful women in my life.

Love, love, love

Bear with me on this blog.  I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but I do know that I want to write it.  I just got back from a week-long family vacation.  I won’t pretend that I haven’t been totally spoiled by my in-laws.  They are more generous than I could type, and I don’t feel I deserve what they give.  But I happily accept it, nonetheless. 

So that said, I am tired and having a hard time adjusting back to real life.  And I’m not the only one.  My son didn’t want to go back to school today.  I think he has a hard time transitioning.  He gets anxiety, but doesn’t have the awareness or language to express it.  So it comes out as defiance.  (Remember I told you he was diagnosed with ODD, oppositional defiance disorder.)  So instead of being sympathetic, understanding and all around mature, I got right into it with him and addressed that behavior, not the feeling.  We yelled, we fought, and honestly, we both cried.  I texted my husband in frustration, telling him I had just about had it.  He called me and started giving me suggestions on what I could do.  Well, now I was fighting with him too.  He tells me that I always do this, I call him when I’m having a hard time and just want him to listen.  But he can’t just listen.  He needs to try and help.  But I don’t want his help.  So what do I want?

I am reading a book with a female protagonist.  She is amazing.  She is strong and willful and everything I want to be.  She doesn’t give a crap what others think of her.  But not in a ‘F%&* you’ sort of way.  More in a, I am doing what needs to be done, sort of way.  In one paragraph the author describes her through her boyfriend’s eyes.  He said he tried kissing his knees one time, the way the girl unconsciously does, to see what it’s like to love yourself that much. 

Man did that strike me.  What do I want?  What is it I am doing when I call my husband, knowing he can’t give me what I want?  I am trying to feel loved.  I want to feel that even in my ugly moments, my immature, ugly moments, I can still be loved.  I am still loved.  So, can I kiss my own knees?  Love myself?

I’m a bit scatter brained, so try and stay with me here.  Two things come to mind.  One is a conversation my father oft reminds me of.  I was five and he asked me, Tovah, why are you so happy all the time?  I gave him a straight answer.  Well dad, when you love yourself so much, you can’t help but love everyone around you.  And when you love everyone around you, you can’t help but be happy.

I would like to think I’ve grown wiser with age, but I think I had it at age five.  At age five there was no one telling you it is uncool to love yourself. There is no one saying that you look stupid kissing your own knees.  Imagine that you see a person hugging themselves, smiling at themselves in the mirror.  What would think? Honestly.  Maybe that they’re narcissistic?  Or maybe that they are slow?  Or maybe they are just plain weird.  But would you stop and think, that there is a person who has a healthy amount of self love.  An abundant amount.  An amount we should all try for. 

The second thing that I was thinking about was the show Ally McBeal.  I loved that show.  I think I have seen every episode.  I didn’t know what it was about the show that I loved, but I think I have a clue now.  Each character was ridiculous in their own way.  Very eccentric.  The main character hallucinated, stuttered, and did other wacky things.  Her boss was shallow and seemed to care for nothing more than money and women.  (And yet somehow you really liked him).  A friend hears Barry White in his head when he needs a boost of courage.  And we often see everyone dancing to the tune inside his head. 

And for all of their weirdness and eccentricities, they all fully accept each other.  It was the acceptance that I found so alluring.  Does anyone in this world know all of me and still accept me?  If someone I love found me kissing my knees, would they admire it or admonish it?  Sometimes I find myself tickling my arms or feet because I love the feeling.  But I get very embarrassed if someone catches me doing so.  It’s like I was caught masturbating.  But I wasn’t, I was just loving myself.  (And on a side note, why is it so embarrassing to be caught masturbating? Well, I think that’s another, more private, conversation.)

There is another type of acceptance that comes to mind now.  When I was about thirteen I had this weird thing.  I’ll try to explain it.  It was that if I touched somewhere on the right side of my body, I HAD to do the same to my left.  It was a compulsion.  And no, I don’t think it was autism.  It just was what it was.  Like if I touched my right pinky on the table I had to do the same to my left.  I was on a bus trip when a girl I knew mentioned something about it and somehow we realized that we both had this same compulsion.  And it was like a world opened.  I was not alone.  Someone understood me.  I had never once voiced this compulsion out loud, and now I had someone who not only accepted it, she fully understood and shared it! 

So is that what I am looking for? An end to my loneliness.  Because that’s what it felt like.  I had been alone, and then someone came and entered my world.  I was no longer alone.  But ask me about my best friend.  We are almost opposites.  We don’t understand each other’s eccentricities, but we do accept them.  Without judgment.  No, that’s not true, we judge each other all the time.  We tell each other how stupid this or that is.  We laugh at it.  So maybe that’s it; we know exactly what the other thinks about this or that and so we have nothing to hide or fear. 

Probably the people who understand me, and get me the most, are my sisters.  Its not with out judgment, I’m sure that they often think I’m crazy, stupid, or both.  (Come on stinkies, don’t deny that we all think that about each other now then.) But at least they do seem to understand me.  And there is a little bit less loneliness in that.

I think what I’m saying is that I want to feel accepted, understood, not alone, and loved.  What I can do is love myself.  Kiss my knees, or tickle my feet, and stop feeling to ashamed of the fact that I enjoy my own self.  I can call my sisters when I want to feel less lonely and understood.  I can call my best friend when I want to feel accepted. Or just understand that I will never be truly understood by anyone.  That even if I’m not accepted by all, that doesn’t mean I can’t accept myself.  And pass as much of that as possible to my children. 

1.   Vacation

2.   Swimming in the ocean

3.   Drinking fresh coconut water every morning

4.   Wild horses

5.   Well behaved children on long flights

6.   Not getting sick

7.   Bio-luminescent bays

8.   The lack of shark attacks

9.   Hammocks

10. Self love

80% Excited 20% Scared

Okay people, it is on. It is so on. We are signing in January and selling our house. We'll move up there as soon as this place is sold. Aaaaaaaaaaah!

Breathe. Breathe. Okay, that's a little better.

So how do I feel about all this? Well, have you ever seen the movie Armageddon? There's a seen where they are in the rockets, about to shoot up to space, and Owen Wilson says something like, "I'm like 80% excited and 20% scared. Or maybe I'm 80% scared and 20% excited. I don't know, but that's what makes this so great!"

Yeah, I feel like that. But right now I'm thinking about my children. (When am I not?) Yesterday my daughter knocks over the fish bowl. Wakes the baby by flashing a bright light in his eyes. Poops in the bath. My eldest son comes home from school and play date super excited. Says he loves school and his friends. My baby wakes me up all night so I'm a zombie the next day. All of this is life and it's great.

Now take this picture and move it to the country. Instead of a little fish bowl, there's an actual fish pond. Imagine the trouble (and danger) my daughter can get into. My son is just starting to really enjoy his social interactions and learning. Can I suddenly be his best friend, teacher and playmate? All while trying to keep up with a baby? And then add to this picture daily chores of tending gardens and animals.

What I believe it will come down to is this: If we build it, will they come? I can't do this alone. Maybe for a while. Maybe to get things started. But what I want, what I crave, is community. I want to know that when I'm not enough, others are there. I want my children growing with a multitude of adults they can trust and turn to. I want women who are different from me to expand my world with who they are and what they bring into this world.

My Rabbi once told me this: He said that there was I a reason I felt I didn't belong in any community I've ever lived in. He said most likely I never would. Unless, of course, you build your own community. I think he meant that last bit to be funny.

Well, that's the punchline. I'm building my own community so I can finally fit in. And I hope this becomes, not a selfish act, but the greatest gift I ever give my children... Besides life, of course. Because that's a pretty big gift too.

1. My daughter's retelling of how she pooped in the bath
2. That it's bedtime
3. The fact that no one will ever care what haircuts anyone in my family may or may not get
4. Yup. It's bedtime

JUMP

Okay. So I'm slightly freaking out. It appears that I have the opportunity to actually go for my dream. And so I stop and wonder, did I really think this dream through? Did I analyze it enough? Did I get enough outsiders opinions to validate that this indeed is the correct dream for me and I should not alter it?

Still sounds dreamy, eh? The reality of going for your dream is so much less romantic than the dream itself. It's panic filled and scary. It's full of second guessing, and crunching numbers, and leaping so far out of your comfort zone you have no idea if your falling or flying.

And yet, if I don't go for it, how could I ever look back at my ten year old self and say, yeah, this is what you become later... A coward, too afraid to go for it.

Of course there is a middle, safer route: I could spend the next five years planning, saving, educating myself and go into this with a firmer step. Yes, that is probably the smart option. And yet, somehow I know that if I don't take this opportunity now, it may never come again. Or I may not grab it the next time it comes around.

But really, I feel that if I am to uproot my children and start a whole new lifestyle with them, it should be as soon as possible. My son is almost six. He has lost two teeth and is starting to form lasting memories. It will never get easier, only harder.

My dear friend who works with clay gave me this beautiful analogy: She said that our souls, neshamas, are like clay in this world. Death is the kiln. We are ever forming through our speech, thought and action.

This feels so true. But I think there is more. I believe that as we age we lose moisture and the clay gets more and more stiff. My children are more pliable now than they will ever be. I want to use that to their advantage. I want to offer them a different kind of life. And the sooner I start, the more they will be formed to see the world in a wholly different way. Hopefully a more holistic, organic and simple way than conventional city life offers.

Sometimes I am shocked to see that any lessons I try to instill in them actually get through. As my mother (known simply as nana) turned to my son and said, "Let us thank Hashem for this great thing that happened," my son replied, "The best way to thank Hashem is by being the best Nana you can be."

I mean, wow.

And yet, I am scared. So scared that my making a mistake will cost them their childhoods. Scared that I won't be able to provide for them what an established community can. I am scared I am not enough.

Maybe it's true. Maybe I'm not. If so, I hope that, as I have the courage to take this leap in life now, Hashem will also give me the courage to admit that to myself later. Until then I say...

JUMP!

1. I made it another day alone with three sick kids in the house
2. An opportunity to give of myself to the world
3. Hot running water
4. The ability to talk to loved ones on the phone
5. The way my baby opens his mouth desperately wide anytime something comes even remotely near
6. How I feel every time I stop and make a gratitude list

Pamper

What's the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear the word pamper? I know, it's the diaper. That's where our dirty minds go, us mothers. You know, in the non-parent world, words like spa, wine, or new shoes are associated with pampering. But not for us. No we hear the word pamper and think, 'why buy pampers or huggies when you can get generic for so much cheaper!' (And those seventh generation all natural brown super expensive diapers? Guess what- they're dyed to look more natural! So keep your $11, and get generic!)

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, pampering. This morning it worked out that my mother-in-law was in Pittsburgh and could bring my eldest to school. Oh, and did I want a coffee since she was stopping anyway? Yes, thank you!

It was such a different morning from the usual bundling of the two babes into the hard to push double stroller, walking up hill in two directions, too tired to do anything by the time I get home, morning. I felt pampered! And it felt good!

And so I wonder... Is there a way to replicate this feeling without being dependent on other people to step into my life? Well, I think of the other times I've felt similar... When I wake up and my downstairs is swept. A clean floor free of toys... I can wake up and not feel immediate pressure to start putting things away. Yeah, that makes me feel pampered. And I can give that to myself each night.

Or having breakfast made for the kids all ready to go (remember the breakfast cake I mentioned in an earlier post?). Or putting a Shalom Sesame Street DVD on so that I can have 22 minutes to type this blog. That feels like pampering.

So here I open the blog... As well as your Good, I would like to hear how you pamper yourself. And please, no vacation talk, only real, everyday options we can all share and use. Wouldn't it be nice to have a bunch of pampered mommies tending their kids with a relaxed love? I think so!

1. Children's DVDs
2. My daughter pooped in the potty again!
3. My swept floor
4. My baby sucking his thumb (it's so freakin cute!)

Perfection

I am overwhelmed.  I am confused.  I am scared.  I am excited.  So many things are happening all at once.  Or maybe it’s just a few things.  But really big things. 

My husband and I are making what will probably come to be one of the biggest decisions we have made as a family.  Should we buy land in the country and start our dreamed of community?  The property is there, the price is right.  It will go fast if we don’t make an offer soon. We could do it.  But should we?  After years of fantasizing, I feel I am so unprepared for this question.  My biggest fear?  Isolation.  If we build it, will they come? 

I thought sure, if we get one or two other families to join up from the start, at least we wouldn’t be alone.  But in my heart I always knew that I needed the courage to make this decision without a safety net.  I always looked like a brave kid.  Sure I could jump in the cold water first.  I could go on that rollercoaster.  I could stand on stage and sing.  But I could do it if I knew others would right after me.  If I knew others would be around.  I didn’t go to the lake myself and jump off the docks. 

And now, now that I so badly want the security of knowing other people will make this leap right after me, I need to make the leap alone.  And I’m scared.  But a decision needs to be made.  And it needs to be made soon.

So while I am obsessing over the future, the here and now are happening and I’m not present.  I am not on top of dinners, laundry, clean up, discipline.  And so yesterday morning things spiraled out of control.  Instead of sticking with the 1,2,3, Magic system, which has really been working so well, I reverted back to being a frustrated, angry mom. 

At one point it got bad.  It got ugly.  Instead of trying to discipline my needy son (of course he was needy, I was out to lunch), I tried to just ignore him and read to his sister.  That really ticked him off. So he starts with annoying noises.  They get louder.  And then the poking.  Oh the poking.  My G-d that is annoying.  So without even turning to look at him I reach out and grab his PJ’s and pull him to me so I can yell at him.

Since I didn’t turn my head, I didn’t see that instead of a handful of clothes, I got a handful of hair.  And I yanked.  Yup, some of his hairs came out in my hand.  Did I suddenly break down and apologize for my unbelievably immature and unthinking action? Inwardly.  But outwardly I just told him to leave me alone.

All I can think is, I am the worst mother.  When you read about parents with difficult children, you never hear about the parent who lost it and back handed the kid, or pulled their hair out.  No one ever admits to that.  But it happens to me.  I do lose it every now and then.  And I get so ashamed for how I screamed directly into his ear, or pushed him away a little too hard and he fell back.  Or some other unintentional, or slightly intentional but not really, action.

But no one ever talks about it.  And I am left to feel that I am the only mother who does this. 

My father comforted and reassured me that I simply fell off my supermom throne and joined the rest of humanity.  And hopefully I will work my way back to being supermom again.  I am trying.  And I suppose that’s all I can do, try.

And the truth is, the more I can forgive myself for not being perfect, the more I can forgive my son for not being perfect.  And my husband.  And my extended family.  And the mean sales clerk.  And the guy who cut me off.  We can’t be perfect.  I know I can’t be perfect.  And it’s a good lesson to teach my children too.

As for my dream of building an organic, eco-sustainable, orthodox Jewish farm community?  Well, if you’re interested, let me know!

1.    The chance to live my dream

2.    Fresh air

3.    Learning opportunities

4.    The librarians (I mean really, they’re awesome!)