How I Lost My Social Skills

Take two very socially adept gals together for coffee one morning, then throw in four children under the age of five, a blaring television or noisy restaurant, sleep deprivation for both gals and a long list of parenting anxieties both are personally feeling.

Now tell them to have a meaningful conversation.

Excuse me, what?!

Instead you’re gonna get fragmented sentences, very little eye contact (Billy just bit his brother), forgotten trains of thought and lack of focus.

This is for real.

When did talking get so tiring?

I remember thinking being a stay at home mom was going to be so great because I could be super social and just spend all of my time chattering away with other mothers of beautiful angelic babes who sit still and listen intently while I make a great point about this or that.

Ahem, wrong. So very wrong.

It’s enough to leave even the most socially adept person flailing in what used to be charted waters. Cotton mouth. Silence. Stammering. What were we talking about?

Oh yeah, conversing as a new mom.

In the past, I liked to think of myself as an expert in conversation. I had it down. I could listen, respond, ask a powerful question and then offer some insight all while standing on one foot sipping a latte backwards.

Now I’m lucky if there’s even one moment of connection between my chatting buddy and I.

It’s like I’ve lost someone I loved—the good conversation. To be honest, I think pre-baby I had one with someone who wasn’t my spouse 4-5 times a week or more. Now I’m lucky to have 2-3 a month. And I’m grieving. Started with denial, then moved to bargaining and now—acceptance.

I don’t mean to be too dramatic but this is a real thing in my life. Extroverts, raise your hand if you feel me.

Let me offer you some words of wisdom if you’ve had a similar experience.

Embrace the change: Once I accepted that this was my new normal, I began to leave my conversations feeling more fulfilled. I learned how to pick up where we left off when interrupted by children and how to ask powerful questions even though there was broken eye contact. I started to count all the positive connections that actually happened instead of feeling a void where I thought there should be more.

It’s ok for the conversation to be “not so great”: Sometimes just being with another friend who has children is good enough. There doesn’t always need to be some titillating conversation happening to make the time together worthwhile. Also, sitting in silence can be a good thing. Eek, that’s so hard for me to write, but true.

This is a season: I’m not going to have a diaper wearing, attention snarfing, into everything toddler forever. Eventually he will grow up and entertain himself. That’s a relief. So this is just temporary. I will also hopefully eventually return to eight hours or more of sleep per night. At least that’s what my friends say, bless them.

Don’t take it personal: Just because I can’t seem to string super intelligent sentences together doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. It means I’m a new Mom. And if my girlfriend doesn’t seem super interested in what I’m saying it doesn’t mean I’m boring, it means she’s a Mom too with five thousand things to think about at once. I cut myself some slack and life got a whole lot happier.

Overall moral of the story: go easy on yourself, be patient while conversing when children are around and make sure to leave the kiddos at home every once in awhile and enjoy an uninterrupted chat with a friend.

Seven Backpacks, a Heart Attack, and a Chocolate Cake

photo credit kitchen joy

She smiles often. She has four teeth…scattered along her gums. I’m not sure that I’m woman enough to smile if I only had four teeth.

She’s frail, appearing older than I know she is. Her life is harsh. Her poverty is not what makes it so.  

She was waiting for me by the gate today. Some days, she prefers to wave as she walks by. Some days, she pretends like she doesn’t see me at all.

Not today. Today she waited.  

She wastes no time with the pleasantries of small talk. She gets right to her point. “Did I miss the backpacks,” she quizzed.

“No, we didn’t give away school supplies this year," I replied apologetically. 

“Oh”. Her pause was long, emphasizing her disappointment. "I was in the hospital and thought I missed it. I had a heart attack. Three stents.”

She lifted her wrist. Multiple vinyl hospital bracelets still dangled there. “I keep these on in case I have to go back. In case I have another stroke.”  

My neighborhood friends aren’t much on small talk. They don’t ask about the family, they don’t comment on a new hair style and they don’t ponder if it might rain today. Their lives are more urgent than that.  

Lupe continued with her story. She was out collecting aluminum cans one morning. She felt funny. She had felt that way before, when she had her stroke.

She walked into the firehouse. Dutifully, they checked her over. Indeed, she was having a heart attack. As they were transporting her to a hospital,  she flat lined.  

She remembers it well. She was in her grandmother’s kitchen. Her grandmother had a beautiful chocolate cake on the table. Lupe was a child. Excitedly, she bit off a corner of the cake. Her grandmother scolded her.

"Ma’am….ma’am….wake up! Do you know where you are? What is your name?" She awoke in the Emergency Room with doctors and nurses surrounding her.

She brushed her fingers over her lips to wipe clean the chocolate frosting she was sure was still there. “I could taste my Abuela’s cake. It was delicious.”

Another pause. It seemed she longed for that moment again. Perhaps it was the ease of childhood or the comfort of her grandmother’s home.  

“Do you know if anyone else is giving away backpacks? I have seven grandkids and I don’t have anything for them to take to school.” Her reality startled mine once again.  

I’ve prayed for her as she wept when one of those grandchildren was born addicted to crack cocaine.

I’ve listened as she talked about her husband. A hardworking man who does as he pleases, including hitting her when the paychecks are small and the beer is large.

I’ve stood beside her at Christmas as she sang O Holy Night like an angel.

And I’ve smiled as she proudly displayed a huge bag of fresh okra that someone gave her from their garden.  

“Let me see what I can come up with and I will call you tomorrow,” I promised.   

I made my way to the check out. Backpacks – 2 pink, 3 blue, 2 mesh, spiral notebooks, crayons, glue sticks, pencils, pens, pocket folders, notebook paper.

“You must have a bunch of kids!” the cashier exclaimed. I smiled. “Something like that”.  

Back at home, the oven timer beeped. The smell of chocolate filled the house. The double fudge cake cooled on the counter while I loaded up the backpacks. I smoothed the thick frosting over the cake…twice. It had to be good.  

I pulled up to her home. I noticed a blue vinyl tarp on the roof. She would tell me later that the tarp was covering a large hole in the roof. It was fine most of the time…except when it rained.

I opened the back of my Suburban. She smiled when she saw all that was for her.  

“A cake…a chocolate cake!"

Delighted, she made multiple trips carrying the goods into the house. I offered to help, knowing that I would not be allowed inside. I know the boundaries…just like the days she doesn’t choose to wave.  

That’s okay. Today, I was allowed into her heart. And that’s just fine with me.

Meet Emily - The Emotional Roller Coaster of Growing A Family

I feel like being a mother is a constant dichotomy. At one moment, you’re just loving every second of the day and you’re totally present and the next moment you’re ready to run out of the house screaming!

So it’s very confusing. But I've been trying to embrace all of it and not beat myself up about any of it.

I felt infancy and baby years were the hardest because I couldn’t know when I was needed or actually, that I’d be needed for everything!

In the beginning you’re sacrificing every ounce of yourself. You’re sacrificing your time, your sleep, your extra curricular activities.

You’re feeling bad about everything you’re doing. I felt bad when I went to work, I even felt bad when I blowed dried my hair! I would think, I should be with my kids.

As beautiful as it is, building your family is a very stressful, trying season. You can know that you’re in one of the most beautiful seasons of life but because you’re exhausted and stretched beyond your max, it’s hard to enjoy it.

And in order to become a mother, there was a big part of me that had to die. A part of me had to die to itself. Not in a bad way, just in a changing way.

Now my sacrifices have changed in a way that I can manage a bit more. Our kids are a little older now and I have time to do things that are important to me without feeling so bad because I know my kids are okay and they can keep themselves busy.

And I look at those sacrifices differently. Right now, every sacrifice I do willingly because I’ve realized that time is fleeting.

I see how much I want to go back and do things over. I know that with each season that passes, I’m going to wish I could go back and do it better.

So maybe I just need to do it better now. And by better I mean, just lightening up on myself. Letting my kids be kids. Letting me be an imperfect mom. Letting my husband be an imperfect husband. That would help a lot.

We were trying for over a year to decide if we would add to our family. It’s a super hard decision. I would be ready and he wouldn’t be. Then he would be ready and I wouldn’t be.

It was probably the most torn we’ve been in our relationship. It was hard to get on the same page because it’s such a big deal.

But we finally just came to a place of trusting God that He would help us through all the tough times of another baby. And we decided to just go for it.

Last year around this time, I got pregnant. I knew this time what to expect. Our two kids are older and I have a better perspective. My husband was excited and it started to feel right.

At 12 weeks we had a doctor’s appointment and there was no heartbeat.

It affected me more than I had anticipated. To me, this baby was already one of our family that I had been picturing for a long time. I was so sad.

I just felt we were supposed to have another baby. So I got pregnant again and this time we miscarried at 9 weeks, right before Christmas.

I used to cry about it every day.

So this year’s been very emotional, but also kind of beautiful. It’s really taught me about the blessings that are all around me.

It tested our marriage and I’m proud of us. I feel like we modeled what God wants marriage to be because we allowed each other to have our own feelings without expectations. We respected the fact that our feelings were different and that we showed them differently.

I think I took a lot for granted before this and I don’t think I ever will again.

There is beauty in pain, you know?

I feel like I’m just now picking my head up from all of that. It was grief upon grief.

But now, it feels like the sun’s shining again.

I’ve had time to accept what I thought our family should be and isn’t. And I know down the road, God will make sense of it for me.

I don’t have someone on my hip every second, I don’t have a diaper to change, I don’t have a kid waking up in the middle of the night. And 50% of me thinks this is amazing and 50% of me thinks this is wrong.

Regardless of my feelings and thoughts, I know that God is good. I have seen him work through me and my family during times of struggle and times of loss. He has built my confidence and reminded me every step of the way that He is in control and He will provide for me.

It's allowed me to let go of my expectations and desires and accept what He desires for my family......and for me.

Pity Party - Table for One

Just gonna put it out there.

I feel sorry for myself.

There.  I said it.  

Poor me.

Life has rendered its share of ups and downs lately. No one really needs guidance to deal with the up side. We can all get behind that. It’s the struggle…disappointment…heartache that we need help with.

Some things really are unfair. And it seems like when it rains, it pours.    

Sometimes, it’s dust from the past stirring up in a new day. Who hasn’t been there?

Perhaps something we thought we had worked through, needs more attention. Maybe our loved ones have been distant when we need their support.

Maybe we’re left out by a group of friends, lose a job, feel the sting of rejection, or get a serious diagnosis.

And then, some stuff is of our own choosing. Ouch. Yeah. We choose. A misery of our own making.

It’s in those times we choose to point the finger at circumstance…a safe place for blame that requires little personal responsibility. Ouch again.

We’re quick to assign our unhappiness to someone or something else, recruiting others to validate our feelings.

And a look in the mirror after a good cry aides in feeling sorry for ourselves….our puffy eyed, blotchy faced selves.

But pity is risky business.

It begins with a thought.

And then another.

Before you know it, there is a nest making its home in your mind.

It didn’t just happen. Just as a nest is assembled twig by twig, each selfish thought has made its contribution to pity.

If not properly dealt with, it gives way to a negative attitude and a hardened heart.

Please friend, don’t go there.

Things will get better…even if it’s only your perspective that changes.  

The surest way I know how to move forward is by reaching out. Talk to a trusted friend. Not one who will trash and bash with you, but someone who loves you enough to tell you the truth…

...even if it means telling you that you are wrong.

Sing, dance, pray, take a walk, get coffee, buy flowers, rearrange furniture, wear bold lipstick, try a new hair style, read a book. Do something on purpose that replaces pity with a positive.

Perhaps neglecting yourself has given way to feeling sorry for yourself. A healthy balance is just that. Healthy.

Focus on someone else. There is always, always, always someone who is going through something far more challenging who could use a kind gesture.

You’ll be amazed at what taking your eyes off of yourself will do for you. Smile, send a card, hold a door, make a casserole.

Then fill your mind and heart with good things. Someone else has traveled the road you’re on and they have a story to share. It will help you.

Words of Gold is a great place to find just that. The young, the old, and the in between sharing, encouraging one another.

We are not alone. A hand is waiting. Take hold.