Heldin im Chaos

Mama Pie

As a mom living abroad, half a planet away from closest friends and family, I find I often troll the internet looking for support and understanding, a sense of community that I can lack in my immediate surrounds, little tips and tricks that make life easier and more balanced, or fresh approaches to a parenting challenge.  Sometimes, I find just what I need just at the time I need it.  Sometimes, it finds me.  For all the benefits I receive, I should be sharing them in hopes that it might help someone else too.  

The little tidbit that found me recently came from Rachel at Small Notebook.  I've been following her blog for a few years, and I remember reading this post when she first put it up over a year ago.  In her last post, she linked back to it, and I took the opportunity this morning while everyone was still asleep to sit down and make a Mama Pie of my own, complete with little three- or four-item lists under each pie wedge to detail what each piece needs.  I took Rachel's pie as a guideline and made only minor adaptations, and I think it will be useful to revisit it over time and tweak as needed.

The beauty of this visual is that it allows me to see areas where I can replenish and renew, as well as areas where I can improve balance.  The "tyranny of the urgent" in a mama's life can be overpowering; everything/everyone seems to compete for our attention and focus, and everything/everyone wants it all at the same time.  Keeping this visual in mind, it becomes easier to see which areas we're giving too much importance, too much time and energy...and the areas where we could give more.  

Possibly one of the most critical pieces of wisdom Rachel imparted in her post about priorities was including a "me" wedge.  So often, mamas don't give themselves a piece of the pie.  I recently read advice on a different blog to make a list of the most important people in your life.  Then, check to see where you are on it.  Are you on it?  I wasn't on mine.  It hadn't even occurred to me, not because I don't find myself valuable or important, but because that's what the mama mentality does to so many of us.  Our children are important.  Our spouses are important.  Our parents and extended family are important.  Close friends are important.  If you participate in charity work, those in need are important too.  But.  If we don't take care of ourselves, how can we take care of others?  In the Christian faith, people are urged to "love others as you love thyself."  If we were really to do that, would it be a rather sad state of affairs all around?  I thought so.  Including "me" in your Mama Pie provides a crucial place to replenish when the other demands wear us down.

If you can find a few minutes, I can recommend making a little Mama Pie of your own.  What would it look like?  I hope you'll find it helpful!

Words of wisdom (regarding picky eaters)

When my children were babies, I tried to do everything the "right" way.  I breastfed them for over a year.  I made a lot of their meals from scratch.   Though I was a late starter the first time around, my second daughter never ate a morsel of processed baby food.  I researched nutrition and tried to keep everything as healthful as possible.  My first-born wasn't offered any sugar treats until she was at least a year old (not quite so easy the second time).  I did everything I had read to do to give them the foundation for being adventurous, healthy eaters.

Except it didn't work.

Any parent of a picky eater can tell you that eating is really about control.  You cannot make the child eat, and the child knows it.  Maddening as it is, worrisome as it is, that's the simple truth.

I recently borrowed an infant-food cookbook from the library to see what it had to say about nutrition from the start.  This was an organic cookbook, and in truth, it was a bit too new-age for me.  There were a lot of "Mama Mantras", discussion of "sacred space" in the kitchen, and recipe tips including infusing each meal with positive thoughts of love and kindness (all good things, truly, but...).  I skimmed.  Rapidly.  Then, I came across this highly-applicable gem in the older child section that I thought was well-worth writing down:

Your true responsibility lies in what you offer your child, when you offer it, and how you offer it--not whether or not he eats it.  That is up to him.

That is a Mama mantra I can use, and I hope some of you can too.

Oh Hubby Full of Wisdom

This morning, I read an email that raised my blood pressure.  It was from a person who fairly regularly provokes this response, and I decided I had enough of that.  I told my husband about the email, and I added that I thought it was time I wrote that person a letter, not attacking, but letting that person know just how I felt.  

Hubby impassively continued eating his breakfast.  "I wouldn't do that," he said.  Then, he added, "Think about what you are trying to achieve."  I considered this as he went on to say perhaps I was misinterpreting the other person's intentions (unlikely given the history, but possible given my distrust based on the history), perhaps I didn't know the situation on that person's end (true BUT!), he knew that I got tired of being the bigger person in this situation (I am SO TIRED of being the bigger person!)...  

But as soon as I had that thought, I realized that not being the bigger person made me the smaller person by default.  That's not the alternative I had in mind.  What did I think my letter would achieve?  Nothing.  Absolutely zero.  Possibly worse than zero.  It wouldn't make me feel any better, and it could give the other person fuel for more bad behavior.  On the (off) chance that I had misinterpreted that person's intentions or situation, my letter would serve to create a big wedge where there hadn't been one.  Any of these outcomes would only make me more unhappy, not less.  At the end of it, the only desirable solution for me is to simply let it go, and let it go completely.

The only question I have left is: how did my husband get so wise?

The Gentle Art of Domesticity

I have started reading The Gentle Art of Domesticity by Jane Brocket.  I’m not sure when or how I discovered her blog, but it is one that I occasionally read for its beauty and relish of domestic creative arts (knitting and quilting, especially).  One of her recent blog posts resonated with me particularly strongly, and suddenly I had to have her first book.  Of course, living in an isolated location means access to the book could only be gained for $55 online or waiting out an interlibrary loan.  I opted for the latter, and the book arrived at the local library today.  I’ve only just read the first few pages, but I’m fairly certain I will be purchasing my own copy to enjoy.

I have to interject here and tell you I just wrote a long post on this subject in which I heavily quoted from the introduction to this book, with full intention to label this a "Words of Wisdom" post.  Typepad has somehow lost all this laboriously copied text, which tells me I was not meant to share so much of her work in this space.  We're talking at least three paragraphs of quotes here.  Clearly, I need to buy my own copy of this lovely book.

Over a year ago, a good friend wrote me a letter in which she attacked my recent turn toward domesticity.  I attended to a well-reputed university in the States.  I have completed round one of graduate school (I have a Masters degree).  My friend was appalled at how much I enjoy my small domestic pursuits: the knitting, cooking, baking, homemaking, baby-wrangling madness that I embrace so openly.  At the time of her letter, I didn't own a sewing machine yet.  Who knows how upset she must be with me now!  I don't.  We have never discussed it.  There is no way I can make her understand the effect her letter had on me or explain things to her in diplomatic terms until she has children of her own (and perhaps not even then), but reading the introduction to The Gentle Art of Domesticity made me feel severely tempted to send her a copy of the book.  I'll just leave you with these few words of wisdom, courtesy of Jane Brocket (from the book's Introduction):

The gentle arts have moved into a new realm in contemporary life, a realm we can choose to enter should we wish, and one in which the act of doing is as important as the result.  Ignore all calls for perfection and focus instead on what you can achieve, and the pleasures of the gentle arts will be yours for the taking.

Me on Monday

 

I'm taking a page out of bluebirdbaby's lovely book and am sharing a bit about myself and what is moving me right now.  (Erin, I hope you don't mind the imitation, but it is the sincerest form of flattery!)

• It's late autumn early winter Down Under.  I love the bright yellow and deep red leaves that have fallen all over my bright green lawn with the backdrop of the neighbor's flowering hibiscus hanging over the fence.  It's multiple seasons in one garden.  Beautiful!
• How fun, fantastic and brilliantly simple is this idea?!  And this!  And this!  Wow.  Will definitely be subscribing to that blog's feed!
• Served this pasta for lunch yesterday.  This is probably the thirty-somethingth time I've made it, and it has become my husband's favorite!  Of course, this time of year is much more about soup in all flavors...and plenty of bread and buttermilk biscuits.
• I recently purchased the Juno soundtrack, and I'm especially getting a kick out of tracks 1 and 3.
• Speaking of music, if you haven't seen this, you are missing out!
• Although I am no morning person, I am now rising at 5:30am in hopes of being more awake when my little early risers wake up.  I enjoy a cuppa and get breakfast started, which they will then refuse to eat.  I listen to them play happily together and count my blessings that they love each other so much...and I am sure to have snacks ready to eat in the car on the way to school to stave off that post-Mealtime Mutiny hunger.

Words of Wisdom: Resilience

In May 2009, NPR recorded an interview with Elizabeth Edwards about her (then-new) book, Resilience.  The bulk of the interview was consumed by the topic of her husband's extramarital affair, as is perhaps the book itself.  I enjoyed the last bit of the interview best.  Elizabeth Edwards was asked to define "resilience" and this is what she said:

I talk about my father's life after he had a stroke.  I think resilience is accepting your new reality, even if it's less good than the one you had, the reality that you liked before.  That's what my dad did.  He still grabbed hold of what was left and lived it as fully as he could.

Words of wisdom

I am trying to listen to my massive backlog of NPR World Story of the Day podcasts.  Today, I listened to the story from January 24 about Romel Joseph, a Juilliard-trained violinist from Haiti.  He founded a music school there that (accidentally) burned down years ago.  He rebuilt it and has been working there as a teacher ever since.  Ten years to the day from the fire, the earthquake struck Haiti.  The school was reduced to rubble around him.  He was trapped inside for 18 hours, playing concertos note-by-note in his head to pass the time calmly.  His pregnant wife was on the first floor, and she did not survive.  When NPR summed up these tragedies and asked if he would return to Haiti, there was no hesitation in his voice when he vowed to return and rebuild the school.  He said,

"Tests are designed to see how powerful your will is. So, if you are a person who has weak will, then you will fail your test and then that's that.  But, I need more than an earthquake to make me stop my work in Haiti."