I posted an old blog to my Facebook yesterday. I decided I really liked the stress part. I also realized it was really long and most people probably didn’t even read to this. No one has an attention span these days. When the poop is over. The article is over.
Just wanted to share with you a little information about how I look at stress and having young babes.
Think about it.
So now that we’ve determined that we are all stressed.
Where do we go from here? Whats the plan?
This really smart school I know uses a beaker to demonstrate this with the kids visually. Every one has a beaker. It basically gives the kids a simply term to explain that they are overwhelmed. It’s stress busting 101.
So this is the jist of it.
You have things that fill your beaker:
- Arguing with a peer
- Not feeling well
- Being tired
- Being nervous about the prom
If you keep pouring small things in. It all adds up and you don’t want to overflow. So you have to be able to identify when your beaker is full. Then you have ways to empty it. Every ones ways are different.
- fresh air
- listening to music
- watching a funny movie
- deep breaths
If you don’t empty your beaker. It starts spilling over. Overflowing. Coming out however it wants to. Not how you decide.
“My beaker is full” becomes an easy way for a kid to express the feeling of being overwhelmed. Even if they can’t pin point why they feel that way.
SO NOW TAKE THIS IDEA AND APPLY IT TO YOUR LIFE AS A MOM:
My beaker is filling up:
- > Someone hit me in the head with a Tonka truck
- > Every one won’t stop pooping. When you change them, they spend the entire time trying to tuck and role away from you.
- > You had to call and say you would be late for work again because of reasons so beyond your control.
- > Your toddler shut the babies fingers in the play kitchen cabinet.
- > Your dog ran out the front door and trampled a kid to run out into the driveway.
- > People are teething. What else is new?
- > Your moments of goodness keep getting interrupted by chaos. Por emjemplo: You are reading Brown Bear on your lawn in the sunshine with the boys. You think to yourself. I have the best life ever. But your life admiration dream like state is quickly over and you come back down to Earth as the baby starts grabbing the book and then the older large baby gets pissed and starts yelling “No no no no no no no no!” and tries to slap the baby. Sweet. Time for time out. I love listening to screaming while time out is going on. You are trying to sit Ben down but you look up and the baby is eating a large stick and handful of grass. You go attempt to pry open tiny death grip fists. Ben sees this as his opportunity to take off and frolic away with his dog. Mocking your zone defense.
Are any of these things that big of a deal? Not really. That still doesn’t change that you an get frustrated, tired, and your mood ring can turn a filthy brown.
So how do I empty my beaker?
- > Okay everyone. Get in the stroller. Time for an endorphin high.
- > Call a friend. ring ring Hannah Nikki Liz Laura Becky Cassie Kim. Bring me coffee and come love on my kids. And they do. How lucky am I? Sometimes they just swing in and bring me coffee. Like they could read my mind that I needed a lady in shinning armor to come save me from Chuggington. It definitely works in my favor to only live 3 minutes from my job. Every ones commute goes by me. I can only assume when Laura and Cassie’s get off shift in the morning they look at each other and are like, “Lets get coffee and see if Britt is alive.”
- > Get in the Jeep every one! We are going to go park at the beach and be humbled by nature.
- > Call your husband and say I need to go to yoga tonight or heads will roll.
- > Listen to stand up comedians while I clean my house. I don’t love TV because I’m more of a mover. So I like to listen and laugh along but do something else productive. Also because it makes cleaning more fun. Because cleaning is the worst. I do it. I don’t even think I’m bad at it. I just don’t enjoy it. Not everyone can be Hannah Canelos at Bubbleclean. The best cleaning company on Cape Cod. (Shameless plug for those I love best. What what.)
- > Dance
- > Blog
I’m doing it. Every day I wake up and smile at the homies. I sing Disney songs. I dance with our kids. I roll down hills with them. I hold them when they are sad. I sit in there dark room for a minute every night even tho they have long been asleep when I get home from work because I missed them.
So sometimes I’m snappy. Sometimes I’m lazy. I got home from work one night and just shoved all the clean laundry on our bed onto the floor because I was so tired. At that time it seemed justified. Therefore, some days I’m a lousy wife. Some days I’m an amazing wife. Some days you come home to a Martha Stewart special and some days you come home to the first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan. So you have to just go with it. Be flexible. Be stable. Be logical. Be the rock that holds us down. Because maybe you didn’t birth our kids. Maybe your contribution list is shorter than mine when it comes to amount of stitches you got in your genitals in order to bring our boys into this world. But here is the secret. What you can do is much greater. You can do the most important thing that could be on any spouses list, which is being the calm in the hormonal storm. This is your starring role. It’s the only way to survive babies.
Maybe your reading this and your like? “Uh, Brit. My pregnancy was beautiful, I was practicing stripper aerobics 6 weeks postpartum, and my husband is MY BEST FRIEND. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Well, in the words of the great poet Stephanie Tanner, “Well pin a rose on your nose.”
That’s cool that your husband is your best friend. My only question and concern is who do you call to say swear words about your husband to? While you cry in your Jeep in the driveway. Cause I’m pretty sure that is the role of your best girlfriend.
and AGAIN… It’s not a competition. That’s silly business. Don’t misinterpret my frustration. I just want to be understood like any one else.
One of us did wake up this morning, take a shower, feed the dog, walk out the door, go to Dunkin Donuts, and then go his/her job.
And the other one of us. Woke up to crying. Changed two poopy diapers. Burned 1000 calories trying to change and dress our children. Fed them breakfast. Changed them again because they are foul beasts when they eat. Made Ben’s daycare lunch. Packed a bag for each of them. Brought Ben to daycare. Brought Jack home. Cleaned up. Brought Jack to Nana’s house and then went to work.
That’s basically the same morning? I won’t disclose who’s morning looks like what.
Is there really any way around our schedules being like this at this very point in time? No! So it’s no one’s fault. Spouses just need to remember to walk in each other’s shoes from time to time. Which you would think would be easy for Josh and I considering my feet just keep getting bigger every time I get pregnant. Sexy.
One day I will retire my card. I won’t be that Mom who spends their kids entire teen years being like, “Hey mister, I spent 30 hours in labor with you. blah blah blah.” But that day isn’t today. Today I will go on feminist rants about the ordeal that is pregnancy. Today I will navigate the unknown waters of being a New Mom. Today I will remind every one in my house hold that I love them and I’m trying harder then I ever thought I could at anything in my life. So please just believe that.