How NOT to Parent

One thing I say to Seth whenever he says we aren't great parents is "We are better than 80% of parents! Are we perfect? No. But do we love our kids, provide for them, teach them? Yes. We are really good parents so stop overreacting."

Today, I take back every word of it. For me at least. Today was not a good mom day.

Going through this world shattering situation with my family has made me feel like I have zero control of my emotions. Some days, I'm perfectly ok. I go about my day, I get the kids off to school, I work two jobs, I make dinner, clean the house, get the kids taken care of, read books to them, snuggle them and sing them to sleep. Other days, like earlier today, I feel so depressed that I can't move. I stare blankly at the computer screen at the THREE (yes three) email inboxes that are overflowing with things that need my attention. I accomplish some things, but not much. What I do accomplish is little in comparison to what I needed to get done. It just feels like the world is piling more and more on top of me and I'm unsure how I'll ever claw my way out again. The other days, I'm filled with rage. A deep-seated unsettled feeling of pure anger. I'm angry at all of the men in my life who have caused so much pain and trauma. Angry at the men who run this state and country and continue to do poor job of it. Angry at the divide that exists between men and women in the workplace. Angry at the unfair balance of home responsibilities that continue to fall on the mother (even the mother working 2 jobs currently). I'm just fed up with it. I'm disillusioned. I'm exhausted. But I'm exhausted being so angry. But I refuse to keep my mouth shut and pretend that all is ok with the world, when it clearly isn't. So I keep simmering. 

The depression was deep today, but I got out of the house and went to visit my 92-year-old grandmother. It was the perfect fall day that I long for all year. We sat outside and basked a bit in the sun. As a result, the depression lifted. Not long after I left, the rage began to build again. As a result, I was a complete shit parent.

While I was simmering with anger I went to pick up Millie at her cousin's. She was upset to be leaving and the entire night went down the toilet. She was mad about leaving. She was enraged and scared about the flu shot we are getting next week, she was awful to her little sister and just being an overall stinker. So I decided she was grounded for the rest of the night. After hearing her slam doors and throw things for awhile, I gave in, and let her come see her grandma. Grandma always can calm her down. She moped around and glared at me, she was ungrateful to her grandma. She was mean again to her sister, but also to the neighbor kids, and of course to me. I thought it would be a good idea to just get her to snap out of her mood by tickling her (which she loves). She was laughing but apparently mad-laughing. How do I know she was angry? Because my 8-year-old BIT me. That's right. BIT my hand. I would have laughed due to the absurdity of it, but I was shocked. And boy did it piss me off. 

So I sent her back to her room. The neighbor kids saw me yell and stared at me with wide eyes above their little masked faces. My mom saw me yell, and gaped at the entire situation. It was not great and everything went down hill after that.

A list of things NOT to say to children:
-"Your sister is being a poo, a massive foot-long poo." This will result in your 3-year-old neighbor telling her mom and dad that Becky is saying naughty things. 

-"You think YOU have had a bad day? You have no idea what I am going through! I may never speak to my dad again. I am fighting with your dad. I am trying to do two jobs. You and your sister kept me up last night. You had a bad day because you had to leave a playdate early. DEAL WITH IT!"

-"You have GOT to get over shots sis. You are going to get shots your whole life. Pain is part of life. You are going to have babies. BUCK UP kid. Good grief, get over it! It's not the end of the world."

-"You know what, I'm done with you today. Your dad will be home any minute. Eat a bowl of cereal for dinner. I just can't anymore. I'm going across the street to have pizza."

 A list of things TO say to children:
-"I'm sorry Millie. I'm sorry I was so angry. Mom is going through a really hard time right now. You and your sister are my biggest joy. But you are NEVER to bite me again ok?"

-"I'm sorry Tilda. I love you so much and I'm sorry I was so upset tonight. Let's all get some sleep and everything will feel better tomorrow."

How to best recover from your shit day:

-Pizza. Because carbs help everything

-Alone time. Preferably in a dark room with candles lit.

-Write. Write terrible a blog that no one will read. Write because it's therapeutic. 

-A glass of red wine and some popcorn are usually quite beneficial

-Get into bed earlier than usual. 

-Read until you can't keep your eyes open.

-Give yourself some grace and recognize that tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Another chance to get it right. Because these girls deserve the best of you. Don't let your past or other's actions get the best of you.

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Today is your birthday, you are 69-years-old. For the first time in 39 years, I won't speak to you on your birthday. I won't buy a greeting card that talks about being daddy's little girl. I won't call and hear you answer, in a voice just like Grandma Avery, "hel - oooooo!" There won't be barbecues at your house, where you insist on cooking the meat long before anyone arrives and leave it to warm in the oven. I won't hear "Hi skkkkkkkkinny girl!" when I walk through your door. It's election season there will be no political discussions between us. Gifts of flashlights, pistachios and political biographies will not be given. I won't chastise you for the amount of salt you dump on your food (who salts a hamburger!?) I won't walk through your soft and perfectly manicured lawn, as if you took a large comb and set every blade of grass just so. I won't hear you say how much you brag about Seth and I, knowing well that you exacerbate the truth to bolster us. We won't sing happy birthday and celebrate you. Not this year. Maybe not ever again. 

It's been a week since my world turned upside time. It's been a week since my perception of you changed. It's been a week where I have been filled with rage, then despair, then pity and back again. Of course, I can't say I am surprised to have learned what you did. Tiny pieces of your issues have been breaking through the surface for a decade. These tiny cracks stirring up memories of small ways you have objectified women. The final issue cracking the facade and shattering everything. And while I was the lucky one, your baby, others weren't. Does this mean I have to tell you goodbye, write you out of my life in solidarity with those that you hurt?

It's sometimes impossible to reconcile the dad that raised me, with the dad from the stories I have heard. To me, you were the dad that I always felt safe with and snuck into bed nearly every night, tapping your broad shoulder wrapped in a blue blanket so you would roll over let me crawl in.You were the dad that made up "coo little poo poo", a song the whole family sang to me whenever the garage closed with all of us tucked into the suburban. The dad I knew would rock me in each night, the wood burning fireplace heating the basement, as you watched the Utah Jazz game. I would always pretend to fall asleep so you would carry me to bed. My dad proudly exclaimed "that's my girl" when I caught the softball hit off the tee coming straight at me when I was 7. It was me who would look into your eyes during your divorce and ask you if you had been crying. You were the dad that never missed an important event in my life. You cherished my choir performances and plays, thrilled that one of your children shared your same interests. It was you that sobbed at my wedding breakfast, as we listened to Butterfly Kisses. Always your little girl. Always told to "stay little" while pushing down on my head. 

So much of who I am today comes from you. I'm strong, independent, assertive, a leader. While you used those same traits in ways that I never will, I do have you to thank for them. You also passed along a lot that I wish I didn't have. I'm stubborn to a fault. A fear of seeming complacent. Life-long body image issues. The goddamn patriarchy. You did teach me to stand up for myself. And that is what has led me here today. 

Those more vulnerable than me, need me to stand up for them. Those that suffered at your hands need ME to lead them through this hellish time. Those that don't want to face, or can't face their demons, need me to be their protector now. They are what matter to me. You have left a path of destruction in your wake and I will come through and try to clean up the aftermath. Your aftermath.  And slowly we will pick up the pieces of our broken family. Our family will never look the same,  but we will all begin to heal. We will come out stronger now that we are in an honest place.

The best I can wish for you dad, is that you own up to your mistakes. You need to admit them, you need to apologize for them and you need to begin making reparations. Because from where I stand, you are still my dad. And no matter how angry, and hurt I am, you are still my dad and I don't want to have to cut you completely from my life. I will if necessary. We begin the long process of healing and I hope you join us in that. 

What it Feels Like for a Girl

 Tonight I was snuggling up with with little girls. In the storm of 2020, it was a moment of respite. The weight of their bodies, the smell of their heads, and their little hands grasping mine calmed my soul. For just 15 minutes of this chaotic day filled with fires, destruction from hurricane level winds, chaotic work and cancelled school, the all-consuming sense of doom just melted away. 

"Fifteen more minutes my loves," I reminded them as we watched some cartoon series on Netflix. I admit I wasn't paying much attention to the plot of the show. I opened my dozing eyes momentarily to see what was happening. Suddenly I was aware that the character in the show (a ninja?) was saying "I am going to go on a diet." The plot, to my horror, was all about this ninja eating too much pudding at a restaurant and how he was now fat. He was out of breath when he exercised and so he had to go on a diet. "I should eat this yummy dessert because tomorrow I have to go on my diet so I'm not fat!"

Oh fuck, no. 

I promptly turned off the show (much to the distress of my darling daughters) and said, "Girls, we don't need to watch this. The shape of your body doesn't matter. I will love you no matter what. The way you look doesn't matter. Who you are as a person is all that really matters."

After the girls were tucked into bed, my husband and I got into an argument. He felt like I overreacted. He doesn't see "diet" as a negative thing, but as a way to be healthy. Luckily for him, he was raised in a family with a more healthy mindset. I told him I understood what he way saying, but I was going to be fiercely protective of my daughters so that they wouldn't grow up with the same bullshit self-esteem issues that I grew up with.

One of the things that plagues me as a woman is feeling, in the depth of my soul, that my worth is based on the shape of my body. I was raised to believe that being skinny was the idea and women were more valuable the more beautiful and skinny they were. I remember my father telling me as a sophomore in high school, "All the other girls wear more makeup than you. You should put more makeup on so the boys will notice you more." I have memories of a father and brother watching, with binoculars, the U of U cheerleaders as they did their pushups after a touchdown. Making snide comments under their breath to each other. I've heard my mother recently talk about an old friend and say, "She was beautiful but her sister was sure a dog!" Even now, as a grown woman talking politics with my father about potential VP picks and I mention a qualified woman he said, "Well she's good, but you know, she's just not that pretty." I have reached the point in my life (only took 39 years) that I call my parents out on these comments. I do understand that they are  products of how they were raised as well. My mother grew up the same way. Being told by her dad that she looked "just like her mother when she bent over." I heard my entire life from her (still do) that she felt like an ugly fat-ass. My mother, the stunningly beautiful and strongwoman, felt like she was worth less because of the size of her pants. My father was raised by a full-blown womanizer. Perhaps neither of them stood a chance. 

I have a new therapist and together we have been exploring my childhood. One topic of many has been my self-confidence issues. The sessions are not easy. They are painful and they are work. But I am willing to do the hard work for not only me, but for my girls. The change is incremental at this point but it's a start.

How many times, as women, do we gather as a group of friends or family, do we talk about our bodies. What we can/can't eat. How "I'm going to be bad tonight" by eating a carbohydrate rich meal? How often do we hear "I have been 'good' all day so I can eat whatever I want!"? How many of our conversations are about our workout routines, the number on the scale, or how well our pants fit? If your family and friends are like mine, it is constant. I am at the point in my life where I just walk away when those discussions begin. And I am done. D O N E. We have more important things to talk about. It is awkward to stand up from a group conversation but for my sanity, I've been doing it. 

This kind of thinking is a fucking disease and I will have NO MORE of it. This may be something that has ruined much of my life, and my self-worth, but it WILL NOT be the plague of my daughters. I will always encourage them to make healthy choices but not because they have to look a certain way, but because I want them to be healthy. Period. Full stop. 

Today I had Chik-Fil-A for lunch. I didn't eat dinner. I have felt guilty all day because of it.  All day. No really, I didn't allow myself to eat after noon because I told myself over and over "you have no self-control. You will NEVER lose weight if you can't pull it together!" I admit, I'm currently the heaviest I have ever been. I don't feel great in my skin. I don't feel healthy. But I am taking baby steps to course-correct a little at a time. I have felt real shame and fear seeing friends that haven't been in my "pandemic circle" the last few months. I have believed that I would be judged or talked about because I have more pounds on my body. That men would say "wow, she used to be pretty but look at her now!" or women would say, "wow, Becky sure has gotten fat!"  For the first time in my life, I have actually considered not showing up to social gatherings because I was ashamed of my body. Me, the extrovert of all extroverts, who misses people more than anything this horrendous year, thought about sitting socially distanced barbecues because I'm 10 pounds more than the last time people saw me. Yet, I would NEVER judge or look down on a girlfriend based on the size and shape of her body. So why do I do it to myself? Oh right.... it was the way I was raised. It is so ingrained in me that I don't know how not to at this point. I

I have had to remind my husband that, while he may have the best intentions, and think he understand what it feels like to be a girl, he never will. He just won't. Men do not live by the same beauty standards as women. Dad-bod is seen as a "cute" thing. Within weeks of having babies women are pressured to get their "pre-baby figures" back. This will not change until more women stand up and say, "ENOUGH." 

I will not stop fighting this. I will continue going to therapy. I will read article about body acceptance. I will follow body-positive social media accounts. I will meditate and write and do what I can to shift my perception. I will work my ass off to ensure that my little girls will grow up confident in their skin, no matter their shape, size, and stye. All that really matters is that my girls grow up to be kind, accepting, open-minded and fighters for the oppressed. 

We all must do better. Women, we can't expect men to look at us differently if we as women can't. We have an entire generation of kids that deserve better than our generation, and all those before us have had. I'll continue to speak up, loudly and obnoxiously. I will call people out. I will call myself out. Because this work isn't easy, but I believe it can be changed.

Love in the time of Corona

Do you ever have the feeling that you are reliving a nightmare day after day? It's like the movie Groundhog Day but rather than Sonny and Cher awakening me each day, the sounds of my children that drive me from my slumber. I stretch, yawn, flip my pillow to the cold side, and for a brief moment I don't remember. I don't remember that the Corona virus has swept through our world. I take a moment to think about what day it is, and whether or not I need to get the kids going for school. And then it hits me. Mother fucker. We are still here. I'm still here. Stuck. At home. With no end in sight. There is no going to work. There is no sending the kids to school. There is nothing to look forward to. There are no vacations anymore, nights at the theater, or game nights with friends. The girls can't go play at grandmas, they can't play at a friends. We are stuck in this and it is so much harder than I could have imagined.

I fully intended on journaling this crisis for my future grandchildren. I envisioned me sitting down at the end of the day, opening my notebook, writing by candlelight and expressing how it all felt. How it feels to have our world unrecognizable. How it feels to be stuck in our home. How it feels to want your mother's arms around you because good grief - you're not cut out for this! How it feels to be really really sad.  How it feels knowing that Seth will soon be working on the front lines, at risk and gone for days. How he'll be at a high risk because we don't have enough protective equipment. How he might get sick. How he might die. How it feels to be angry at the lack of response from our government. How it feels to be heartbroken for friends who have lost work and potentially businesses. How it felt the first time I knew someone with the virus and that it was someone in my family that I absolutely adore. How fear gripped my heart and squeezed until my anxiety overcame me. How I feel utterly hopeless.

To be completely honest and vulnerable, I haven't been writing because many days I am barely coping. And by the time 8:00pm rolls around, and the girls are in bed, I don't have to keep the brave face on anymore. I don't have to pretend that everything is going to be ok and that "mom and dad will protect you." I pour a drink because I need life to have a softer edge. A glass of wine, a stiff martini, a shot of tequila, anything to help numb the day. This can't be reality right? This isn't really happening!

There is a big part of me that knows how silly it is to complain. Really. I have a beautiful home. Seth and I still have jobs. I have been told to stay home. Just stay home. So why is it so brutal? As an extrovert I need to be around people. I love being home but I also go stir-crazy if I am home all day and haven't left the house. I am a gatherer by nature. I love bringing people together. I love hosting parties at my house. I'm at my core a people-person. The loudest one at the party. The more the merrier!

I am restless by nature as well. I never imagined a life where I would be a stay-at-home mom. Part of the reason I had such bad postpartum depression was being stuck at home. I need work. I need to be intellectually challenged. I was more than thrilled to be back to work after a quick 6-8 weeks of maternity. I felt lighter and more balanced as soon as I was back into that routine and out of the house.

I know that all of us are scrambling. Those of us that have kids in school are suddenly faced with home schooling. As much as I knew I could never be a stay-at-home mom, there was ZERO reality in which I would ever be homeschooling my kids. Turns out, I hate it as much as I thought I would and I am even more terrible at it than I ever imagined I would be. I do believe that this week will be the week where we start to settle into a routine. At least for school. With routine I will be more productive as I work from home. I'm trying to raise money during the biggest economic crisis in history. And not just for the youth we serve but for my coworkers to still have a job. It's overwhelming and hard and scary.

So where does this all leave us? What am I learning during this horribly difficult time? I'm learning the healing power of the sun and that nothing brings me more peace than going outside and turning my face toward the warmth. I'm learning that my body has to move. This week wasn't great (see: depression and feeling of doom) but I have been doing yoga and running and it is truly a lifeline. I'm learning that food is a comfort and I haven't been giving my body the right foods to eat. I'm learning that I do love being around my children for 22 days straight (although I absolutely wish I could go out with some friends for the night and get away from them) Kids are resilient and relatively un-phased by all of this. My girls are learning to be the very best of friends. I'm learning that it's really nice to not live by my calendar and not have daily obligations. It's nice to not be constantly running around and feeling behind. I'm learning that I miss the simple things in life: Sunday dinner at Mom's, bunco, the sound of the Spy Hop students each afternoon. I miss my commute and the ability to listen to podcasts during the little "me time" I have each day. I miss knowing that the next big trip is on the horizon. I'm learning that no matter how surreal this time is that I find peace knowing we are all in this together. We are isolating together. We are mourning together. We are mourning for the life we have always had. We are mourning for the sick and the catastrophic deaths that we have seen and will see far more of. We are holding on tight to those that mean the most to us. We are checking in. We are texting, calling, and connecting as much as we can. We are uniting and that brings me hope.

Be gentle with yourselves. Be gentle with your partner/friends/family. Know that some days you will feel ok, you may even feel great. On those days, celebrate it. Dance in your kitchen, go out for a long walk in your neighborhood and talk to those you pass along the way. But also realize that some days will be hard. That motivation will be lost. That wine will be poured and hours of Netflix will be consumed. I genuinely hope that this week I start to settle into this new reality and that I find ways to deal with the anxiety and dread and turn into into something better. That in this time of corona, we all find a way to love it.

Stay strong people. Stay inside. Stay well.