The push and pull from practicing gratitude weighs heavily on my heart. It never comes easy to me.
It is work. It is hard. It is exhausting.
Because where does it end? There is a limitless list of things kids can be embarrassed about: not arriving to school in the right car or not having the right shoes; mothers who don’t wear make up or don yoga pants every day; or dads who scare boyfriends or dress in ridiculous ties. And yes, even a mom who does the Running Man. Even if she executes it well.
Last year was sad. No Girls Weekends. I’m changing that in 2016!
I’m sorry, young mom. I blew it. I am just so jealous of what you are about to experience that I forgot how hard it was, too. What you saw were your two children disturbing the peace. What I saw were beautiful memories hanging on to a red shopping cart.
My goals were simple. I focused on what made me happy — I mean really happy — and decided to do more of that. And I realized a New Year wasn’t about changing me — losing five pounds or quitting sugar or climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. It was about planning for what I wanted to do more of in the upcoming year.
I see dead people.
Okay, I totally don’t see dead people. But I often feel like people from my past — people that are no longer on this Earth — are trying to tell me something.
As my denial went into over-drive, I deliberately closed my bag, placed it on the moving black belt and walked through the metal detector without a beep. As I hastily grabbed my items from the tray, I could see the security screener out of the corner of my eye staring at what must be my father in the X-ray machine.
We cannot let ourselves become angry or bitter because we see someone trying to do their part. A person is not a hypocrite for deciding to speak out or support a cause that motivates him to act. It is okay for different people to have certain burdens on their heart.
And then I started digging deeper and realized it’s not so much about dinner as it is about dishing. Family dinner time is often the only time families are spending together, which is why it is so important. Spending time together. Now that is something I can work with. I also forced myself to take a long, hard look at my kids and I remembered that these girls are happy and healthy. We are doing okay.
I am excited to write about my dinnertime dilemma further on one of my favorite sites: Lies About Parenting (LAP). LAP debunks popular parenting “advice” that may not work for everyone in order to raise happier healthier kids — and parents.
Find my article here (http://liesaboutparenting.com/family-dinner-bonding-alternatives/).
Because the truth is, I feel guilty too. I wonder if I am the best example to my kids at times, if I am demonstrating girl-power. I am comfortable if they choose to follow my path, but I don’t want them to do it out of fear or resignation. I want them to understand they have the power of choice.
And my brand of feminism has to do with two things and two things only — equality and choice. Feminists who came before us fought for the right to choose a life that was on their terms —whether that was staying at home or participating in the workforce.