Motherhood with a Teenager Reveals Blessings

Let me know if you've heard these phrases: "Just wait until they start talking back to you. Just wait until all they do is sleep all day. Just wait until they eat everything in sight. Just wait until they're taller than you. Just wait until they're teenagers. Just wait..."


When a fellow mom prefaces advice with those two words, "Just Wait," I want to smack her a little. I hear it quite often, because gobs of people have lived through motherhood longer than I have. The truth is, no matter what stage of motherhood a woman is in, her future shouldn't be discussed with fear and annoyance. Her present is hard enough as it is, so how does it help anybody to dismiss what's happening now and indicate it's only going to be worse someday?


We have all heard horror stories about the teen years. We shouldn't trek blindly or naively without being prepared for the worst, because some of the worst is surely going to happen. Our paths will be tumultuous. The terrain will be rocky. We'll cross wide, gaping holes without bridges. Slippery hills and uneven ground will bring us to a halt at times. We know. Veteran moms don't need to warn us. We were teenagers not so long ago ourselves. Our husbands were boys, and we were girls. If we really tried, we could recall all of our crazy stunts and the poor decisions we made as teens. We can't believe our own parents survived. We are baffled that we were never kidnapped or lost or worse. We know, Just-Wait-Warning moms. We know what's coming.


As we sit around waiting for the worst, we can try to appreciate the best of our teens. These curious creatures are still the same babies who once were merely a dream to a newlywed couple. We can still see the glow in their eyes and dimples in their cheeks reminiscent of the toddler years. Their sense of humor has wittily evolved from that of the second-grader who loved the tired old Knock-Knock Orange and Banana joke.


Bits of the worst may be in our future, but for now, I'd like to share how I learned to appreciate the wonder of my present teen while picking up dirty laundry.


Laundry is an issue for our family...you know this because I've told you how my system moved from highly inefficient to simply okay. Six people create many loads of laundry, so each child has a hamper in his or her room. Our rule for the past year has been that each child should be placing dirty clothing into said hamper. It sounds simple, yet they do not always do it. Many days, I find clothes and pajamas behind the bathroom door, draping down the stairs, next to the basement couch and in every mom's favorite place: on the floor right next to the hamper. Right next to it! Many times I've been infuriated by this practice. I've beckoned for children to run up two flights of stairs, for the sole purpose of reminding them of proper laundry rules and insisting they follow the rules right then and there. I've cursed under my breath for the inconvenience. I've thrown my hands up in the air, wondering, Will they ever do it the right way? My way?


Some days, I am surprised when I find hampers full of clothes and floors cleared of the heaps of socks and undies. I do love and appreciate those days.


It was one typical day when the clothes were lying beside the hamper when I woke up to my teenage blessing. The sun was shining through the windows, which is pretty rare in our town during winter, so I was in an especially inspired mood. Everybody was at school and work. My Broadway Showtunes Pandora station was cranked up to a volume nobody in the house but I could tolerate. Seeing the jumbled mess of clothes next to the hamper, when nobody but I was home to move them, jolted me.


For a split second, I grumpily thought I should leave them on the floor until school was over, then make darn sure the offending child placed them where they belonged. Then, my mama heart softened as I realized that I will not be cleaning up clothes forever. Someday, there will be nothing left on the floor. The kids will be grown and gone, and I'll long for the days when I could pick up after my babies. My kids. My teens.


There will be no toothpaste on the sink. No unmade beds. No Lego pieces. No evidence of children...anywhere.


I started to cry. I began to mourn the years that are slipping away from us as fast as rockets, and I slowly and deliberately picked up each piece of smelly clothing from the floor. As I dropped them into the hamper, I said these words out loud:


"Thank you for sending me these children. Thank you for keeping them healthy. Thank you for everything we have, even the messes. Please keep them safe. Please keep them healthy. Please help them know how much I love being their mom. Please keep them mine."


As we learn to navigate our new roles as moms to teens, I hope we'll be strong in remembering how much these kiddos still need us. They aren't grown up yet. They forget. They are tired. They want to hang out with friends or read or watch their favorite shows. They're kids. They probably loathe laundry as much as we do.

 

One of my best friends gave me a cherished recipe, with these words of words of wisdom taped to the back of the card:

Just Declare It

Confidence. That's a tricky subject for a lot of people, one which can pull us in many different directions. It can build us up and tear us down, sometimes within the short span of a day. I'll use myself for a quick example. I'm your gal when it comes to whipping up mouth-watering desserts for any brunch, baby shower or holiday celebration. On the other hand, my seven-year-old son asks me to sew up a tiny hole in his pajamas, and I freeze. Seriously, I cannot sew a single stitch. Those seamstress genes have skipped a generation, and I'm okay to admit it.

Our confidence tends to fluctuate, naturally waxing and waning. Do we know why these sudden shifts occur in our self certainty? Maybe it's hormonal. Maybe it's the lack of sunshine. Maybe it's how we view ourselves or others view us. After spending so many years inside the walls of our home, with four captivating children being the entire focus of my life, I have experienced a personal breakthrough in confidence. As I share it with you, maybe you can think about a situation you're facing that could use a confidence boost, too.

Several months have passed since I decidedly tuned into the relentless voice in my head and began writing my blog. It has become such a rewarding undertaking, and as always, I thank you for being here with me. Until very recently, when I talked about it with others, I could feel sort of confident in saying, "Well, I have this blog," or "I contribute to some local magazines and websites."

Then, suddenly, a transformation occurred in how I described my writing. I was set to embark on a three month reading journey with a group of women, mostly moms. I knew many of these ladies, yet a few were strangers to me and to each other. Naturally, we spent some time introducing ourselves to one another during our first meeting. Children were toddling around in the adjoining room, while all of the women sat crossed legged on the carpet, sharing basic details about ourselves. We discussed all of the typical get-to-know-you stuff: family lives, jobs, hometowns, hobbies. When my turn came to speak, after I blabbed about my four kids, these foreign words just came flying out of my mouth.

"I'm a writer."

Um, did I really just say that out loud? I just told everyone in here that I'm a writer, something I have never said before to anyone. Who says I'm a writer? Just because I say it's true, does it mean it's actually true? Can I just declare myself to be a writer?

Well, I guess that's exactly what I did, and it's happening.

I declared it. I don't know why I was being timid about it before now. It's what I do...I write. I am writing all the time, in so many places. People are reading and sharing and talking about my pieces, in person and online.. A magazine is delivered to my door every month with my title and tagline and photo...and my words, in print! It is happening. I'm secretly wishing that my name pops up in conversation, as in, "You should meet my friend, Elizabeth; she's a writer." 

Why did it take me so long to see what was right in front of me? I know it was the comforting spirit of this group of women, their warm smiles and open ears, which allowed the words to finally flow from my lips.

"I am a writer." 

What about you? What are you working on these days that you're feeling shy about or are too nervous to say out loud? Would you just declare it? What's the worst that can happen? You can begin by telling just one person. Your spouse, your best friend, your grandma, your baby who won't remember anyway. What if you tell someone who will build up your confidence and keep you motivated? You can tell me! Whoever it is, Just Declare It!

Then, come on back and let me know how it goes.

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:

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It Will Get Easier...A Lesson Passed on over Frozen Custard

With my youngest son turning five recently, I've begun to worry that I might lose some of my street cred with the moms of really young kids. Maybe you'll start to think I'm out of touch with the issues that mamas of babies and toddlers face. That my days in those dirty diaper trenches are over, so I can't relate to you anymore. I'm here to tell you that although my days are different now, I have not forgotten what it was like to live as a stay at home mom with very, very young children, all needing me at one time, all crying, all wanting to be fed, or changed, or read to, or played with, or driven somewhere, or you know how it goes. My friends and I who are moving past the baby stage look back and wonder how we did it. We laugh, our eyes glaze over, and we say to each other, "How did we ever survive?"

A few weeks ago, I was out to lunch with Marshall. We had a quick bite at Culver's after I picked him up from preschool. I had spent the morning alone, shopping and running errands without anyone tugging on my leg or asking for candy in the check-out lane. I'm sure I look like a weirdo when I walk through Target and talk to all the moms with babies, as I feel lost without any of mine with me. I stop and smile at every single baby who is strolled past me. Everywhere. I can't help it. So, after a few hours of eyeing all the babies that were not mine, I was so happy to in fact have my own child back in my company.

Over lunch, Marshall and I talked about his friends at school, what his snack was for the day, who the special helper was, and what he wanted to do when we went back home. We had a big kid conversation. It was back and forth...quiet...interesting. I might even go as far as to say it was easy. We were munching on that greasy goodness that only comes from Culver's, while a mother and her three young children were sitting at the table behind us. Her meal, with a baby girl and two toddler boys, was far from easy. I must have heard her direct her children to do something or stop doing something fifty times.

Stop touching your brother.

Eat your lunch.

Don't climb under the table.

Stop blowing bubbles with your straw.

Sit up nicely.

DO NOT EAT food off the floor.

Please don't squeeze the baby's face.

Would you just eat?

Leave him alone.

I'm serious...stop!

If you don't eat, then you won't have any ice cream.

Quit pushing each other.

 

Why are you acting this way?

 

Would you please just listen to me?

As the meal went on, I could hear her frustrations escalating. I could hear the kids becoming more antsy. I was wondering why she was lingering in the restaurant, why she wasn't picking them up and leaving. They weren't bothering me, because I have been that mom a million times, but I could tell that she was upset. I once walked out of Red Robin with our food going straight into take-out boxes, because four whining kids couldn't handle the wait. These kids had finished their meals and their ice cream sundaes, yet they were still sitting there, seeming to torture their mama. Maybe this was her first outing in days, her only chance to have a hot meal that she didn't have to prepare herself, so she was trying to make the best of it.

Marshall and I finished our creamy frozen custard and began packing up our table. I had already made up my mind to stop to say a kind word to the mom on my way out, but what I saw when I turned around really surprised me. I saw the reason why that mom hadn't already left the restaurant, even though her children were clearly pushing her over the edge. Her husband had come in late to meet them during his lunch break. He was wearing his work clothes, a mechanic's uniform, and he was just beginning to eat his meal when I said this to the young family:

"It will get easier."

That mother, all tired and ready to pull her hair out, let her frazzled face and frustrations relax for a minute. I saw the relief in her eyes when she gazed up at me and my big boy with hope. She asked with a desperate inflection in her voice, "Really?"

We talked for a few minutes, and I found out that her children were ages 4,3, and 1, the exact ages that my first three were at one point. There's something about learning that another mother is traveling a similar path on parenting that creates a connection for me. I explained to her that I had been that mom, too. My kids drove me crazy in restaurants....in the library...at the store. Wherever. Now they go to school, and I'm alone sometimes during the day. She started to unload more to me, that her oldest will start school next year, and that she hopes it will make life a little easier. I assured her that it would. I congratulated the couple on their cute family. I wished them luck, encouraged them to keep taking the kids out, and we went on our way.

On our way out to the car, one of my best friends in the whole world called me. It was perfect timing. She has four kids as well, and boy, were we in the deep mama trenches together for many years. She and I would call each other day after day, week after week, saying, "How did our moms do this? Will it ever get easier?" She's the friend I called the time I left Red Robin in tears, swearing I would NEVER take the kids out by myself again. I called her from every parking lot in town where my kids threw fits. She would lift me up, bring me back to reality, and I would do the same for her. I told her about the young mom in Culver's. We giggled at how we were that mom, and it really wasn't that long ago.

So, to all of my readers with wee ones:

I am so glad that you're here! I know I joke about how much the world has changed since I first became a mom--like how we had to develop film, but most of it is still the same. Feelings, struggles, insecurities. Milestones, accomplishments, celebrations. Those aspects of motherhood are constant. If my 92 year old grandmother can reminisce and empathize with modern moms, then so can a woman who hasn't given birth in this decade.

Thank you for continuing to read this blog! Thank you for trusting me through this journey. If you know someone who could use encouragement through parenthood, I would be honored for you to pass along my site.

Please, share your feelings here in the comments, any time. It would be so cool to have a dialogue start that might even lead to another post.


I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
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Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder: Part 3

3 Rules to Navigating a New Stage in Parenting

Since I shared just a small fraction of our experience with Sensory Processing Disorder during Halloween time, I have been hearing from so many parents who are feeling that they navigate this world alone. What I would like to say is that you are not alone. Many of us have children who are dealing with similar frustrations. We just need to reach out and find each other!

You are probably wondering how that is possible when you already feel like you are the only parent going through it. These are some of the thoughts you probably have on a regular basis.

Other kids eat a variety of foods, including vegetables and non-processed meats. 
 
Other kids put on their winter coats, hats, boots and mittens without tantrums.
 
Other kids dip their toes in sand, grass or water without screaming.
 
Other kids like parades and the loud sirens and flashing lights that come with them.
 
Other kids willingly take baths when they need them, or maybe even before a layer of slime accumulates on their bodies.
 
Other kids move through childhood without ever knowing the struggle of an oversensitive body system. Gosh, why does everybody else have it so easy when my child cries every day about something?

The truth is, everybody doesn't have it as easy as we think they do. Every family is struggling with something. Each child probably has some issue that is causing concern in the home. Sensory processing is just one that is highly visible, and often at inopportune times, right?

I would like to encourage you that it is possible, and critical, to seek out other families who do battle the same issues. Parenting will feel a lot less lonely once you overcome the initial shock and make it your mission to connect with others who also are struggling. You can follow these three rules to help you.

Rule #1. Read...a lot!

I have discovered that using a variety of tools for gathering information makes life a little easier for all of us. Of course, I always turn to the library and Google. I read books, magazines, every pamphlet I see, Facebook and, obviously, helpful blogs. For whatever diagnosis your child has, there will be at least one online organization and support group which you will find valuable. I have learned that becoming as much of an expert as I can (while still being a busy mom with four kids, a husband, a house and myself to manage), is the first step.

As a parent, I will always be reading and learning. That part never ends. I accept it.  

Rule #2. Listen...a lot!

Through my many years of navigating my own children's issues and concerns, I have always turned to parents who have crossed the path before me. They are filled with so much experience, knowledge and advice. When I need help with something new, I look to those previous "experts." I have a notebook ready and actually write down what they tell me. It may sound silly or antiquated, but it's a crucial part of my tried and true process. I know I won't remember the entire conversation later, so I record the details. Doctors, therapists, foods, websites, resources. I jot all of it down, so that when I am ready to digest it later, everything will be right there in front of me.

How do I hear about these expert parents and who they are? I listen attentively when people talk. I remember when I hear about children having certain diagnoses. Mr. A's child has Asperger's; Mr. B's child has Tourette's; Mrs. C's child has allergies;  Mrs. D.'s child goes to speech therapy. I am able to remember and file these little tidbits into my brain and then use them like a Rolodex when it's time.

Because I have many children of varying ages, I do happen to know a lot of people. If you aren't part of as wide of a network as I am yet, that's okay. You can ask your friends for references. Ask your family. Ask your pediatrician. Ask on Facebook. Ask your neighbors, teachers, whomever you can! Someone...somewhere, will know somebody who has been in your situation in the past.

Rule #3. Talk...a lot!

Luckily for me, I have a big mouth. (I have shared that truth about myself with you, right)? I don't mind sharing my experiences with other people, especially if it can help someone through a difficult situation. I have found that my talking about our lives has already helped many others. Thus continues the circle of learning and listening. I'm hoping that others will remember what experiences I have had, and they will feel comfortable seeking out my help in the future.

Just the other evening at swimming, I overheard a mother talking about some struggles one of her daughters was having. As I had been in her situation in the past, my supersonic eavesdropping skills had been activated. Then, I scooted myself across the bleachers to see if there was anything I could do to help. Through our lengthy conversation, I learned that she felt extremely alone in this journey to advocate for her children. It was all very new to her, very overwhelming and very exhausting. These are the words parents often utter to one another when their guards are finally down: overwhelming, exhausting, confusing, sad, frustrating, emotional...HARD.

This particular woman was in a special circumstance because she actually had two children with two different syndromes and many questions. Somehow, I had been at the right place, at the right time, to extend some advice to this mother. At the end of our talk, she felt more confident, a little relieved and ready to tackle the next step in her journey.

Another obvious benefit of talking is that both parties can actually learn something. We can discover new therapies and strategies to try with our own children through the regular old art of conversation.

If you are a parent who has navigated life with a sensitive child, I'm sure you have tried these rules of Read, Listen and Talk. I hope that you will be willing to continue to share your knowledge with those new parents coming up behind you.

Just as every child is different, so is every child's method of sensory processing.

 

I am not a substitute for a therapist, but in our home, some tools which have benefited our child's specific sensory needs are:

• occupational therapy
• sound-proof headphones for parades
• sunglasses/hat for bright days
• granting him a choice in clothing, unless extreme weather is in effect
• giving a choice for bath time, hair-cut, nail trim: We tell him he can choose tonight or tomorrow, but it has to be done.
• brushing therapy
• therabands
• rolling over his body with a large yoga ball
• pouring piles of stuffed animals/clothes on him
• trampoline
• swimming
• bike riding
• swinging
• push-ups, sit-ups
• allowing him to jump against the couch
• a weighted lap pad

Most importantly, we try our best to show FLEXIBILITY, PATIENCE and LOVE.

If you're stumbling upon this post, please read back to Parts 1 and 2 of this series, in my anecdotal accounts of Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder.

My Sensitive Kid Finally Wants a Halloween Costume! (Part 1)

Making Strides and Setbacks at Halloween (Part 2)


For many more resources, please check out The Sensory Processing Disorder Foundation's website.

For a great site to purchase brushes, bands, and lap pads, check out The Therapy Shoppe.

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder

One late October morning, while all of my children were at school, I embarked on a motherly mission to find a very specific Halloween costume for one of those kids. My highly-sensitive, hates-the-way-everything-feels-on-his-body, usually-never-wears-a-Halloween-costume, seven-year-old kid. I cannot tell you how thrilled I was that he actually chose to wear a costume this year! I was more than happy to spend my teensy weensy bit of free time that morning walking the aisles of Party City in search of the highly sought-after Green Ninja garb.

In the past, as any parent with sensitive children knows, Halloween has caused some major trauma in our family. We've had screaming, kicking, crying, yelling, fighting, all of which ends up with the child not wearing a costume anyway...obviously.

Our first glimpse into the world of no-costume Halloweens was when Trixie was just a toddler. We were living in Japan and were preparing to go trick-or-treating in the neighborhood surrounding the kids' International preschool. I was attempting to adorn her and Reese in their adorably plush Disney Store Pooh and Tigger costumes, which my mom had sent over from America. Trixie had such a major meltdown that I actually had to cut her out of the costume. Scissors went straight up the back of that sucker so I could peel it off of her, because she was so far into her sensory tantrum that there was no other way out of it. My kids were the only Americans in their school (the only kids who actually celebrated Halloween), and yet they showed up wearing pumpkin shirts instead of costumes to trick-or-treat.

Little did I know that our third child would also have such severe issues with his sensory system. Most parents whose children process their senses in a typical way can't imagine that other children do not find dressing up for Halloween to be fun and exciting. For those of us with sensitive kids, we accept their reality that Halloween costumes are annoying and itchy and hard and just feel wrong. It takes patience, and sometimes it can take years for parents to figure out just what is happening with our children's body systems.

Have you been there? Have you learned what works for them or are you still in the phase of wondering what the heck is happening?

As our parenting progressed, we, too, progressed at how quickly we could recognize the signs of sensory processing issues. Now, we just know what to expect, when to expect it, and we've learned to let the children guide most of what goes on their bodies. Whether or not our kids will wear a Halloween costume is always a toss-up. After I experienced the horror of slicing that brand new Winnie the Pooh to pieces, I happily vowed never to buy a Disney Store costume again.

One year, Chip decided to go as a stealth ninja for Halloween. Sounds like a costume, right? Well, actually, he just meant that he would wear all black clothing that was already part of his every day wardrobe. The next year, he was a soccer player. Again, nothing extra or unusual, just wearing his normal gym pants and his park league soccer t-shirt.

Does it matter to us what kind of costume or not-really-a-costume our kids wear for Halloween? Absolutely not. We want them to be comfortable and have fun, just like everybody else. However, early this September, we noticed a small shift in Chip's mentality. He started to talk about not wanting to wear anything at all this year, and then not wanting to go trick-or-treating. What was breaking my heart was that his sensitivity was going to start to hinder him.

Maybe some parents would find skipping trick-or-treat a good thing and not worth mourning. For us, it was a sad time, because we knew that Chip really did not want to give it up yet. He's only seven, and that kid LOVES candy. He craves it and sneaks it and devours it, and, well, he just loves it. All of his friends and sibs were growing excited for Halloween, yet he was unable to feel that happy anticipation due to his anxious sensitivity.

About two weeks before Halloween, Chip surprised us by quietly stating that he changed his mind and was planning to wear an actual costume this year. He had deduced that if he skipped any kind of costume and thus skipped trick-or-treating, he would not be receiving any candy of his own. His brothers and sister would not be obligated to share their stash with him, and he knew the rule:

No costume=no trick-or-treat=no candy. 

He had seen the Green Ninja costume in the Party City catalog, and somehow, he set his mind on that one. Something about Lego Ninjago, of course, because it's all the rage in second grade. When I found the costume in the store and looked at all of its layers and pieces, I didn't know how he would react when I brought it home. Would he willingly put it on over his clothes or exclaim that it bothered his skin or felt too tight? Parents with sensitive kids will rejoice with me when I tell you that Chip was ecstatic to see his Green Ninja costume waiting at his kitchen table seat after school. (We do have assigned seats at the dinner table-I highly recommend it to anyone with little ones who argue over where to sit). He put it straight on over his clothes and did not take it off until bedtime!

 

This night was a true reason to celebrate for my sensitive son. He shared with me how soft his new costume felt inside and that he could be like a real ninja while he was wearing it. He jumped, kicked, twisted and flailed, but this time, it was all in the name of play-fighting with Marshall. It was not to try to take off a costume that caused pain or frustration.

This weekend will be a special Halloween event at his school, where Chip can show off his new costume to all of the friends who don't live in our neighborhood. No more walking through the costume parade at school with kids asking him, "Chip, what are you supposed to be?" It will be glaringly obvious. He is a Green Ninja, and his mama is so proud of him!

To be honest, Halloween isn't the only time we struggle around here. We've come to realize that each child in our family has a varying degree of these feelings when it comes to what goes on or into their bodies. Their sensory processing struggles not only affect their clothing choices all year, but can also inhibit their abilities to enjoy food, sunlight and especially sound. As their parents, we can only do our best to guide them with ways to navigate the world that they inhabit. This year, Chip was able to place his love of candy above his fear of the unknown...that very scary world of Halloween costume discomfort.

http://www.autism-live.com/halloween-autism-advice.aspx

I decided to dedicate this topic to a 3 part series. Please read my other two sections in Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder:

Making Strides and Setbacks at Halloween (Part 2)

3 Rules to Navigating a New Stage of Parenting (Part 3)


If you have a child with autism or sensory processing disorder, how have you handled the struggles? What are you hoping to learn from other parents' experiences? Let's share how we have managed this issue in the comments section.

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

5 Things I Learned About Myself When I Tried to Grow My Hair Out

I heard this saying once that after a certain age, women shouldn't keep their hair too long. I don't know where it came from, or if it was just made up by the woman who said it. I don't even know what the "certain age" is, but for myself, I started worrying that I was approaching it. If I wanted to have long hair ever again, I thought I needed to do it soon. So, last year, I decided to grow my hair long. That is, until today, when I quit. Here is what I learned about myself along the way:

1.  I am not a very patient person.

When I was young, my hair was often long and sleek, and I loved it. I didn't have to wait for it to grow, it was just there. Then, during the times I had shorter styles, it seemed to grow really fast. This past year, as I was waiting for my mom haircut to grow out, it did not seem to budge…ever. Going in for trims would be pretty disheartening. My stylist, who has the most beautiful long, blonde, flowing locks, would quietly snip off all the hard work I...er, I mean, my hair...had done the previous months. She would encourage me to be patient, because it takes a while to make it past the shoulders. Once that happened, she said my hair would stop flipping up, and it would all be worth it. I would leave her chair feeling defeated. My mom always says, "Patience is a virtue." I don't think I have enough of it. 

2.  I tend to want what I can't have.

When my hair was short, I would look at women with long hair and wish for what they had. I would dream about pony tails and braids and curls and all the styles I could have if my hair was long again. Somehow, my new longer hair seemed like a straight, boring mess. The only time I liked it was if I had time to really dry it, but that took forever, and we all know moms never have forever to do anything. Obviously, pony tails were great for cleaning the house or sitting at the kids' swimming lessons, but even I grew tired of looking at myself with ponies. I shocked myself by shamelessly leaving the house with my hair still wet from the shower! I had never done that in my life, and suddenly, I was doing it all the time for the sake of convenience. Eventually, after I was feeling really discouraged, it seemed everywhere I looked were women sporting my previous hairstyle. They looked cute and fresh, while I just felt frumpy and old. My hair was wet, limp, flat, still barely past my shoulders, and still flipping up in the back. 

3.  I have to be practical.

As summer was coming to a close, I realized I was not going to make it through fall and winter with wet hair and pony tails. I just didn't have what it takes to let this hair grow another year. Let's face it:  even if I did grow it long enough for cute styles and curls, I would never have time to do it! Ever.  Okay, maybe once a month on a weekend. Maybe. Is that worth it? If I chopped it into a cute inverted bob, I'd have a ready-made style every day! With a super quick drying time. Done! 

4.  It's okay to be a quitter. It's only hair.

I love short hair...on everyone. If a high school senior contemplates letting go of her lifetime of long locks before freshman year of college, I call it a rite of passage in becoming a young woman, and I cheer her on! "Go for it, it's only hair!" When a newly independent twenty-something tells her friends she wants to cut her gorgeous, long hair into a trendy style and everyone shrieks, "Noooo," I shout, "Just do it! It's only hair!" When little girls, as small as six or seven, want to try short hair, but moms, dads, and grandparents tell them it's just too pretty to cut, I always say, "Let her cut it!  It's only hair!" 

So, why was I, an independent woman, trying to raise other independent humans, so worried about my own hair and its freakin' length? Was I so afraid of being a quitter that I was going to keep up with this style that made me feel so badly about myself? Did I feel that because I declared I was going to grow out my hair, I needed to keep growing it?    

I was actually much more confident in myself when I did have short hair. This long hair is just too much for me to deal with on top of everything else in our lives. I tried to grow it, and then I realized long hair isn't me anymore. It was me once, but that was a long, long time ago. For me, that "certain age" to stop having long hair is now. I don't see myself becoming more patient or less practical any time soon. I quit my long hair, and it's okay. It's only hair.  

5.  I really stink at selfies.

Once I did finally give up the idea of having long hair, I let the world, or that is, my Facebook friends, know my plan. Mr. G. (remember my favorite orchestra teacher?) suggested a before and after shot. Ha! I told him that's just for teeny boppers and hipsters. I'm too old for selfies. Of course, he shot back with, "I still think of you as a teeny bopper." What a charmer. 

That's when I devised my brilliant plan to blog about all this, in turn laughing at myself. It really has been an ordeal, this whole grow my hair, cut my hair, fiasco. Just ask Trixie and Mark. They've been through it with me the whole time. It merits its own reflection blog. 

In the morning, after the kids were at school, I tried to take some selfies of my freshly dried, longest it's been in many years, hair. You know, for the "before" shot. I went out to the back deck for some pleasing scenery, actually feeling like a total idiot. I do not take selfies. You can totally tell. I was worried the neighbors would see me, posing on the deck like a thirteen-year-old girl, except I was awkwardly holding a giant tablet in front of my face instead of a sleek phone. Thirty shots later, this is what you get. 

Notice, I finally gave up on the wooded backdrop and went inside. 

Also, my hair isn't even that long.  I had at least another year to go to reach the length I really wanted.

 

Sitting down in my stylist's chair tonight was invigorating, not defeating, as it had been so many times the past year. When she asked me if I was ready to keep on growing, I took a deep breath and told her to chop it off! I was ready to be me again. Of course, she still remembered exactly how to cut it into my short style. She asked me if it was alright to take off a full five inches to reach my usual short length, and I enthusiastically told her to take it. She asked if Mark knew I was chopping my hair tonight. I told her that I believed he would want me to have the hair that makes me feel best about myself, and this short style is who I am. She brought me back to life with her scissors. She knew it and I knew it. When I stood up from her chair, we looked at all the pieces of me left on the salon's floor. I sighed for a second, and said, "There it goes. Ah well, it's only hair."

 

After spending too much time reflecting on my hair, I am proudly coming away with some lessons to teach my children. 

• It's okay to be impatient.
• It's okay to long for new things and dream about them, but being practical is also important. 
• Nobody ever told me I wasn't allowed to be a quitter, it was just something I had instilled in myself. It's actually okay to quit!   

Would you tell me about some life lessons you learned while doing something trivial? 

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https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo