mama wants more--home

may 13, 2008

Happy Juanita Day!
©Stephenie Freeman

The other day at preschool pick-up my friend Holly asked me how I was doing.

Never one to hide the obvious, I seized the opportunity to complain. I complained about how tired I was and how there was still so much left to do in my day. I complained about how there was tons of laundry to do and no one to help fold it. I complained about how the kids were driving me crazy and it was only noon.

“Sounds like you need a Juanita Day to me,” she said.

“What’s a ‘Juanita Day’?” I stopped complaining long enough to ask.

Holly was referring to her Great-Aunt Juanita who, at 85 years young, has got it all figured out.

It seems that years ago when Holly was still a baby and her mom a new mother, Aunt Juanita stopped by for a visit. Now, most female relatives would instantly pitch in to help. But this wasn’t the case with Juanita. As Holly’s mom busied herself with the cleaning of cloth diapers and other exhausting and endless mommy rituals, Aunt Juanita simply made herself a hot cup of tea and sat down to rest.

In the midst of the chaos, Juanita plainly informed her niece, “Looks to me like you need to stop, take a breath, and have a Juanita Day.”

And that’s when the idea of taking a Juanita Day was born.

Aunt Juanita discovered early on that motherhood is a lot more fun if you stop every so often to enjoy it. Juanita raised three boys back in the day when you had to raise children without things like microwaves and DVR’s. Not a complainer, Juanita was a grateful person who amazingly remained so even after losing her middle child to leukemia.

At a time when most mothers would drown in despair, Juanita found peace in appreciating where she was and who she was with. She found comfort in counting her blessings and took the time to enjoy each one. In the midst of great pain, Juanita had discovered the significance of stopping to breathe; in stopping to reflect on all of the joy still in her life.

Juanita was learning about the importance of refueling.

There’s been lots of talk in the news lately about fueling up. How much it’s costing. How much it’s worth. But no one is talking about what would happen if no one ever stopped to refuel.

Bad things would happen. No one would get to where they needed to go. Life would become harder and more frustrating than it already is. Life would change as we know it and there would be lots and lots of unhappy people. That’s why, no matter the cost, we continue to pay the rising fuel prices.

But not so for us mothers. We run and run until our tank is almost empty. We drive on fumes because we think it is too costly to stop. But the truth is we would all run a lot more efficiently if we took the time to pull over and recharge our batteries every once in a while.

Unfortunately, mothers usually won’t take the time because taking a break feels way too self-indulgent and selfish. In reality, stopping to refuel is crucial if we want to keep driving full speed ahead. Life tends to be a lot less fun when you suddenly crash and burn only to realize that your three-year-old has used up all of the band-aids.

Holly, as insightful and wise as her Aunt Juanita, refers to is as “Remembering to put on your oxygen mask.” We’ve all heard the phrase a thousand times: If you are flying with a small child, you must put your oxygen mask on first before placing it on your child. Those flight attendants are there to remind us that if we don’t get what we need, then we can’t be there to give our children everything that they need.

And what we all need is a Juanita Day.

Mothers need to take the time to stop and just…be. That’s what a Juanita Day is all about—taking some time to focus on what really matters; enjoying your friends, your family, and most importantly, your life.

So the next time you start to feel like you’re running on empty, pull over and get off the road. Refuel so you can be all that you’re meant to be.

And have a Happy Juanita Day!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

april 28, 2008

Birthday Bash
©Stephenie Freeman

My children have three birthday parties to go to this weekend. Yesterday, I bought three birthday gifts, each for a different child. I’m paying more for gas, groceries, and now birthday presents.

I’m glad that my children have lots of friends. They get so excited when party invitations come in the mail. I put them on the refrigerator not only as a reminder for me, but also so the children will repetitively ask me, “Is it time for the party yet? Is it today? IS IT?” It seems to add to their birthday party excitement while simultaneously driving me nuts.

But all of that isn’t as crazy as having to shop for the birthday presents. Buying a present for someone else’s child is a process filled with hard decisions that have no easy answers. Does he like Transformers? Is she into Disney’s Princesses? Are her parents going to kill me if I give her this glow-in-the-dark, singing Hannah Montana T-shirt?

I worry about what the parents will think about the present I buy for their children. The birthday boy or girl is the last person that I’m thinking about when I’m choosing a gift. Young children are usually happy with any present they receive unless it is something that they already own, in which case they show their extreme disappointment by informing everyone at the party, “But I already have one of these.”

There’s nothing worse than being the only gift giver who doesn’t receive an enthusiastic “Wow!” or “Awesome!” from the birthday child. You might as well have given them socks.

My children are still young enough that parents attend the birthday parties with their children. Parents are very aware of who brings what gift. And because we parents have to constantly buy these toys, either for our own children or for friends, we are also very aware of what these toys cost.

The last thing you want to have happen is for your present to be opened and all of the other parents to be wondering why you’re so cheap. Standing in the toys aisle yesterday my dilemma wasn’t which Barbie to buy, but about how much I actually wanted to spend. There’s a fine line between appearing cheap and looking ridiculous.

Buying toys can get really expensive, really fast, especially if you have to buy more than one gift like I did. Before you know it, you’re walking out of a store having spent seventy-five dollars on a variety of toys that will either be broken within a month or end up in next summer’s garage sale.

I think most mothers would agree that the whole birthday present buying process is painful for many reasons, and if your children are with you, well then it’s just downright excruciating.

I have a vivid memory of me and my mother at the Gibson’s on Cache Road circa 1978. We are standing in the toy department and I am getting strict instructions on proper gift buying etiquette. She is telling me how the gift was for a friend, that we weren’t buying anything for me, and so on and so forth.

I remember begging. Could I get a toy? No. Could I have one like it? No. Could I play with it until the party? No. I left Gibson’s brokenhearted and hating that my friend was even born.

When you’re a kid, it’s a lot harder to give than it is to receive.

Twenty years later, now I am the mommy saying no in a sick and twisted version of déjà vu. No, they couldn’t have one. No, we weren’t buying something for them. No, they couldn’t play with it; they could only look at it.

My boys held tightly to the presents as we went through the check-out line. The lady behind the counter asked my youngest, “Oh boy! Is that for you?”

“No,” he said through a sob that was just beginning to bubble up in his throat. “It’s for my friend.”

He cried all the way home. I tried my best to console him. He finally settled down about the time we pulled up next to the mailbox to get the mail. Inside, next to the junk mail and golf magazines, was another birthday party invitation.

Now who’s the one crying?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

april 14, 2008

So much change...So little time

(a side note from Stephenie.)

God closed a door, so I opened a window and a bird flew in.

Go check out "Tweet"--Mama's new blog. It BY NO MEANS replaces my weekly columns here. It's just a way for me to blabber on and on about the mind-numbing events that make up my days.

So bounce around. Read it all. And hopefully you'll find a way to enjoy the chaos as much as I do.