Equations

Everything in life is about input and output.  Our cars need fuel to run; our bodies need food to function; our homes use energy and electricity for heat and light.  Yet, somehow, many of the moms I know, including me, sometimes try to function outside of this basic truth about life.  We become mothers and we think we can cast off the limits of time and space.  We give and nurture and manage (here’s the output), but we often forget the input.

The input part of the equation is hard for moms because of the dirty truth about it: self-care looks like it comes at the cost of our children’s care.  Once, when I asked my grandma about how she possibly managed raising four children in a tiny house, without any sort of babysitter, she looked at me like I was crazy.  She said, “Look out the window.  You see the houses on my street?  In every one of those houses, lived a mom in the same situation.  So, the whole neighborhood helped.  We would just open the door and shoo the kids out and they would roam the street and go in and out of the houses, and we knew they were fine.  And, every evening, I would put on nice clothes and lipstick, and go have a cocktail with another mom.”  Was she a “bad” mom because her kids roamed the neighborhood and she actually, maybe had a second to read the paper and drink her coffee?  Nah. 

How can we be super moms and take care of everything, AND stop to fill ourselves back up?  The reality is that sometimes we just can’t.  But the real problem is that often we choose not to because we can’t figure out the equation of exactly how to do this.  This is where some basic math could be useful.  Remember back in middle school algebra class, when we learned that, in solving an equation, whatever you do to one side, you have to do to the other side?  If you have 2x - 4 = 3x + 3, and you want to solve for x, you have to first subtract 2x from each side and then subtract 3 from each side.  You have to do the same thing to each side.  There is no emotional content here; you’re just trying to solve the equation.  So maybe our self-care could be the same way.  Say I just made the kids’ dinner and I feel like I want to sit down and read a magazine and have a glass of wine.  That sounds like a balanced equation—some input and some output.  But instead, do I choose to put in more laundry, clean up from making the dinner, and put away the legos that I keep stepping on?  We push and push ourselves, but how can that be good?

A great woman I know, who works with families told me once, when I was having a hard time: every morning when you wake up, you need to ask yourself, what can I handle today?  She said that the answer to that question needs to guide that day.  So, if it’s a get-up-and-go kind of day and you have the energy to do a million errands and fix a fabulous dinner, great.  If it’s what I call a “maintaining” day, that’s fine too.  Your output is based on the input you have been getting.  So if you don’t have a lot of umph, maybe it’s because your tank is low.  During a “maintaining” day, you simply keep everyone alive.  Nothing brilliant or special or enriching occurs.  You might not be the most engaged and charming mom.  There might be some serious TV-watching.  But everyone is just FINE and at the end of the day.  They have eaten, they have played, and they are alive.  I mean, really, that’s got to count for something.  And, that kind of day shouldn’t be viewed as a failure, or as less, in any way.  It was what you could handle on that day.  There will be other days.  (Lots of them.)

Yesterday I had a day when I knew I couldn’t handle very much.  I know that on a day like that, if I push myself, everyone pays.  I end up cranky and short with my children and my husband, and I end up feeling like a basket-case by the evening.  So, I decided that nothing would happen.  We would go nowhere; we would accomplish nothing; the house would just get messier and messier.  Now, all moms know that in reality, even on such a day, a mom is doing dozens of little things to keep the house running and the children cared for.  So, see, even when we decide we can’t handle much, there is still so, so much that we have to do.  Yesterday, my kids watched 2 (yup, count ‘em)… TWO hours of TV while I got in bed and rested and read and then took a bath.  Then, I kicked them outside to play while I’ll finally got a handle on the clutter that had built up while I was pampering.  On this day, my input looks like neglecting my kids.  But I think we just have to come to terms with that, because there is no other choice.  We can choose to not take care of ourselves, or if we’re very lucky to have lots of family around or childcare available, we can have someone else care for the kids while we care for ourselves.  The daily reality, though, is that we just have to keep track of the equation the best we can.  Here’s another thing: during this day, my children were safe and happy.  They got to watch a cute movie together, curled up on the couch under blankets.  They played creatively out back for two hours together—building their own seesaw, constructing various sculptures out of wood scraps.  I heard them laugh and discuss and problem-solve together.  Sometimes I think we might consider removing ourselves from their world even more.  Perhaps there are things they will do and figure out if we were just a little less in their faces.

At the end of my maintaining day, when the kids came in from the backyard because it had started to rain, I had the house tidied up and a beautiful, healthy “funny” dinner on the table, with candles lit.  “Funny” dinners were something my mom did when we were little and I just recently remembered them… and realized how truly brilliant they are.  You put out a bunch of food (that you don’t have to cook or prepare), from all the food groups, and kids get to pick what they want.  After dinner, a nice long bath for the kids, stories, and bed.  Maybe I didn’t interact and play a lot with the kids, but once I had filled back up, I was able to have a wonderful evening with them.  I had the energy to delight in their cuteness, instead of be grumpy and annoyed.

When I came out to the living room after tucking them in, I stopped and listened to the rain, and I breathed in its damp air.  We don’t get a lot of rain here, so I sent up thanks for it.  It struck me as a cleansing rain.  It was one more piece of input for me that day.  I reflected on how there are days when you think you might not get through, when you feel so overwhelmed and buried… but that sometimes you get enough of what you need to refuel… and the equation feels balanced.