Taking time for myself has always been hard. When I was younger and lived with my parents and siblings, I didn't feel like I could ask to do things because there were so many of us. I am the middle of five and when I stared being the age when activities ramp up, my older sisters were in college and my youngest brother was a toddler. My parents both worked at the college my sisters attended and we had built a new house. Money wasn't tight, but it wasn't free flowing either. I learned quickly to limit the things I asked for because not everything was going to be funded.
Then, as always, I went to an extreme. I, for some reason, decided to not make my parents spend any money on me. I had only a small scope of the expenses they incurred. I did not account for water, insurance, or electricity to name a few. I did make sure to not to ask for special snacks, gadgets, clothes, or extracurricular activities. If I did have to have them spend money, I got things on clearance and did the minimum activities possible.
This did more to make me dislike sports because of refusing to get the proper equipment or doing things where I would have to buy equipment. I missed out on fun optional field trips because i didn't want to burden them more. None of this was supported by my parents. when they found out what I was doing, they sat me down and let me know it was actually causing burdens, on them and me, by trying not to be a burden (my paraphrase of the conversation).
In college, my school came first. I rarely did things to make me happy. Normally my choices were fueled by either how it impacted my grades or by why I thought others would see and how they would judge me.
I started telling myself the lie that if everyone was happy, I wouldn't need to look after myself.
I'm realizing now as time has flown at breakneck speed, valuing myself and keeping my spiritual, emotional, and physical health a priority are my biggest weaknesses.
I want to change that.
I want, for the sake of all the people I love, to be healthy. Not bowing to what I think people think of me, but working out myself with fear and trembling in the lap of my loving Savior. If he has valued me, I have to value me. He deserves seeing me , his child, thriving in the life he gave me.
So I choose to run, literally I've started running. I choose to make what I enjoy making without the anxiety of, "will people buy it?" clouding my mind. I choose to eat when my body needs nutrients, an cry and laugh when I need to. I choose to make things I enjoy, because God made me to make. I choose to be who he has made me in the life he has given me.
Showing posts with label Myth of Supermom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Myth of Supermom. Show all posts
Monday, March 14, 2016
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Accidental Quinoa and Oat Granola
I make granola weekly because it's one of the only things my 2 1/2 year old son will eat. A normal batch is 1/2 cup molasses, 1/2 cup canola oil, and 4 cups of rolled oats. I whisk the oil and molasses together until uniform and then stir in the oats. I spread this out onto a greased baker's half sheet and bake for 30 min at 325 degrees, stirring halfway through.
For the past few weeks, I've tried making a double batch in order to save some work. I can't help but chuckle at this right now and you'll see why in a bit. So back to the idea of saving work with a double batch. It hasn't worked the past few weeks because my husband just has a bigger bowl at breakfast.
I still hope for a week off so this morning I started with a double batch in mind. In goes 1 cup oil, then 1 cup molasses (measuring the oil in the cup first then reusing it to measure the molasses makes it come out cleanly). I whisk it together then head to the pantry for the oatmeal.
Low and behold, we're almost out of rolled oats and I have no where close to the 8 cups needed. Panicking a smidge while rummaging through the shelves, I find 4 packets of instant oatmeal, 2/3 cup red quinoa, and 1 1/2 cup steel cut oats. Still not enough for a normal ratio of coating to crunch, but it will have to do.
I stir all of this in and spread it over a greased baker's half sheet.
Then cross my fingers and hope it will be good enough for tomorrow's breakfast.
15 minutes pass, I stir the granola and flatten it back out. Mind you it's bubbling around the edges because there's too much coating, but ... whatever.
Then it's time to bring it out. It's making "giant crumbs" as my son calls them as I scrape it off the pan, but it's taking forever to cool. My curiosity about the taste overrides my fear of burning my tongue and I take a bite. It's surprisingly hearty and very good! I kinda wanted to eat it all then and there.
...
This should be where my story ends. Happy with my ingenuity in solving an issue and creating a new favorite whilst winning Super Mommy points to top it all. But...no... I decide to push it. I put the granola away warm, so I can ensure some "giant crumbs" stay intact for my son.
Later in the afternoon, I can't resist and want a bowl. Nothing shakes out...it has turned into ONE GIANT CRUMB!! I hurriedly try to shake the container to break it up, turning it...upside down.
This is when some of you would be yelling at the screen, "NO...DON'T!!"
I swear I saw it happen in slow motion. The lid let loose and half of the full container comes out in scattering pieces all over my kitchen (I just found more on top of my fridge). I am able to slam it down so the other half, still one big crumb, stays in the container. I step back and my son sums it up nicely, "You made a big mess!" I love that kid and am so thankful for his comic relief.
You can see now why I chuckled in the beginning about my motive to save myself some work. As I swept the floor and wiped the counters, I wish a moral deeper than this came to me: Laugh at yourself...cause if you don't you might be taking yourself too seriously!
For the past few weeks, I've tried making a double batch in order to save some work. I can't help but chuckle at this right now and you'll see why in a bit. So back to the idea of saving work with a double batch. It hasn't worked the past few weeks because my husband just has a bigger bowl at breakfast.
I stir all of this in and spread it over a greased baker's half sheet.
Then cross my fingers and hope it will be good enough for tomorrow's breakfast.
15 minutes pass, I stir the granola and flatten it back out. Mind you it's bubbling around the edges because there's too much coating, but ... whatever.
...
This should be where my story ends. Happy with my ingenuity in solving an issue and creating a new favorite whilst winning Super Mommy points to top it all. But...no... I decide to push it. I put the granola away warm, so I can ensure some "giant crumbs" stay intact for my son.
Later in the afternoon, I can't resist and want a bowl. Nothing shakes out...it has turned into ONE GIANT CRUMB!! I hurriedly try to shake the container to break it up, turning it...upside down.
This is when some of you would be yelling at the screen, "NO...DON'T!!"
I swear I saw it happen in slow motion. The lid let loose and half of the full container comes out in scattering pieces all over my kitchen (I just found more on top of my fridge). I am able to slam it down so the other half, still one big crumb, stays in the container. I step back and my son sums it up nicely, "You made a big mess!" I love that kid and am so thankful for his comic relief.
You can see now why I chuckled in the beginning about my motive to save myself some work. As I swept the floor and wiped the counters, I wish a moral deeper than this came to me: Laugh at yourself...cause if you don't you might be taking yourself too seriously!
GOD LOVES YOU
ENJOY LIFE
-Cindy
-Cindy
-----------
Accidental Quinoa and Oat Granola
1 cup oil
1 cup molasses (1/2 cup of both of these will probably be fine)
2 cups rolled oats
1 1/2 cups steel cut oats
4 packets instant oatmeal
2/3 cups red quinoa
Whisk oil and molasses until uniform and stir in grains until coated.
Spread over a greased half baker's sheet and bake at 325 degrees for 30-35 min, stirring after 15 minutes to avoid burning.
After removing from oven stir granola to loosen from pan.
LET COOL COMPLETELY
Break into pieces and store in air tight container.
Enjoy!
Monday, August 12, 2013
Supermom VS. The Fear of Mediocrity
As I'm now in the beginning of my journey as a mom, I'm fighting an old fight that has been with me for almost as long as I can remember. This struggle became glaringly apparent in college as I pursued a degree in architecture.
One day at a desk critique, my professor tells me if I don't start trying harder I'm only going to ever be mediocre. He went on to explain my designs were average at best. The whole time I was choking back tears. My professors had over the years made it clear that these critiques were about our work, not about us, so not to take what is said personally.
I know and have told myself he was trying to motivate me with these words, but these words have hurt me and are still affecting me. Even six years later, I'm scared of being mediocre, not adding anything original or worthwhile to the world.
I admit that the base reason I gave up on my pursuit of becoming a licensed architect is because of this fear. This conversation with my professor did not plant this seed of fear in me, it mainly amplified it to the point where I could not ignore it or live in bliss of ignorance I had lived in before. My idealistic views of my future were shattered that day and were not repaired as my college years in the program went on.
Going to college, I was under the illusion that I would go to school and learn how to take my field by storm. This was partly naiveté, on my part. I did not do enough research ahead of time to make sure I was making an appropriate career path choice.
With this naiveté and fly by the seat of my pants mentality, I was setting myself up for a brick wall collision somewhere along the way. I'm surprised it took until the end of Sophomore year!
I tried harder, but soon realized I was at my peak far behind my classmates. With a shortage of jobs because of a collapse in the housing and building market, I found I could not compete for the few jobs available because of the nagging reminders that I wasn't good enough or trying hard enough.
Soon, I was exhausted. Between the strenuous hours of studio work, my graduation date rushing towards me, and the hunt for a job, I was barely sleeping and stressed to the max. All the while, I was terrified of mediocrity. I was tired of not making a mark on the people around me.
I was struggling to see my purpose.
Realizing I'd have to move in with parents after graduation because of a lack of a job, I knew that was the end to my architectural pursuits. They lived in an area with even fewer architecture job opportunities than where my school was! The job market everywhere was flooded with more experienced candidates and time passing only meant more recent graduates would be coming on the scene as well. I knew I couldn't compete. Maybe it was the voice in my head saying, you're just mediocre, maybe it was reality finally hitting that this was not my skill set.
Either way, I gave up, got three part-time jobs since my school loans were coming due and tried to distract myself from my classmates getting internships and returning to school for their masters degree. I wanted to go back to be with friends but knew the course load would be too much for me.
That time after graduation wasn't all bad. Because of living closer to my family and my boyfriend, I was able to reinvest in those relationships I had neglected. My boyfriend became my husband, and my family became friends on a new level. So many blessing came from being home for those two years after graduation.
Now with life settling after marriage, a move across three states, and a baby, I've been able to process all these changes in a new light and realize the fear of mediocrity has followed me. It's been with me well before my sophomore year of college, and is still hard to shake.
Today, aspirations of being a "Supermom" seem to be my way of battling my fear of mediocrity. I must excel at what I do to battle that broken record in my head telling me I'll never be more than average.
I've found that record plays louder when I'm in a spiritual desert. When I'm not relying on God, I seem to let my thoughts of self doubt play louder.
The more time in this desert, the more ways my thoughts bring out my insecurities.
I find myself in a new spiritual desert now as I'm battling exhaustion, sleep deprivation, separation from family, endless household tasks, all while trying to embrace my changing child and keep my marriage strong.
As much as I hated hearing her say this over and over when I was younger, I find the words of my mother entering my thoughts: Your identity is in Christ as a child of God. Remember whose you are.
I obviously have failed Christ in many ways as anyone has. HE, however, has extended grace so that even if I am average or mediocre at best:
One day at a desk critique, my professor tells me if I don't start trying harder I'm only going to ever be mediocre. He went on to explain my designs were average at best. The whole time I was choking back tears. My professors had over the years made it clear that these critiques were about our work, not about us, so not to take what is said personally.
I know and have told myself he was trying to motivate me with these words, but these words have hurt me and are still affecting me. Even six years later, I'm scared of being mediocre, not adding anything original or worthwhile to the world.
I admit that the base reason I gave up on my pursuit of becoming a licensed architect is because of this fear. This conversation with my professor did not plant this seed of fear in me, it mainly amplified it to the point where I could not ignore it or live in bliss of ignorance I had lived in before. My idealistic views of my future were shattered that day and were not repaired as my college years in the program went on.
Going to college, I was under the illusion that I would go to school and learn how to take my field by storm. This was partly naiveté, on my part. I did not do enough research ahead of time to make sure I was making an appropriate career path choice.
With this naiveté and fly by the seat of my pants mentality, I was setting myself up for a brick wall collision somewhere along the way. I'm surprised it took until the end of Sophomore year!
I tried harder, but soon realized I was at my peak far behind my classmates. With a shortage of jobs because of a collapse in the housing and building market, I found I could not compete for the few jobs available because of the nagging reminders that I wasn't good enough or trying hard enough.
Soon, I was exhausted. Between the strenuous hours of studio work, my graduation date rushing towards me, and the hunt for a job, I was barely sleeping and stressed to the max. All the while, I was terrified of mediocrity. I was tired of not making a mark on the people around me.
I was struggling to see my purpose.
Realizing I'd have to move in with parents after graduation because of a lack of a job, I knew that was the end to my architectural pursuits. They lived in an area with even fewer architecture job opportunities than where my school was! The job market everywhere was flooded with more experienced candidates and time passing only meant more recent graduates would be coming on the scene as well. I knew I couldn't compete. Maybe it was the voice in my head saying, you're just mediocre, maybe it was reality finally hitting that this was not my skill set.
Either way, I gave up, got three part-time jobs since my school loans were coming due and tried to distract myself from my classmates getting internships and returning to school for their masters degree. I wanted to go back to be with friends but knew the course load would be too much for me.
That time after graduation wasn't all bad. Because of living closer to my family and my boyfriend, I was able to reinvest in those relationships I had neglected. My boyfriend became my husband, and my family became friends on a new level. So many blessing came from being home for those two years after graduation.
Now with life settling after marriage, a move across three states, and a baby, I've been able to process all these changes in a new light and realize the fear of mediocrity has followed me. It's been with me well before my sophomore year of college, and is still hard to shake.
Today, aspirations of being a "Supermom" seem to be my way of battling my fear of mediocrity. I must excel at what I do to battle that broken record in my head telling me I'll never be more than average.
I've found that record plays louder when I'm in a spiritual desert. When I'm not relying on God, I seem to let my thoughts of self doubt play louder.
The more time in this desert, the more ways my thoughts bring out my insecurities.
I find myself in a new spiritual desert now as I'm battling exhaustion, sleep deprivation, separation from family, endless household tasks, all while trying to embrace my changing child and keep my marriage strong.
As much as I hated hearing her say this over and over when I was younger, I find the words of my mother entering my thoughts: Your identity is in Christ as a child of God. Remember whose you are.
I obviously have failed Christ in many ways as anyone has. HE, however, has extended grace so that even if I am average or mediocre at best:
HE still died for me!
HE still provided a way of salvation for me.
HE still loves me and pursues me to be closer to HIM!
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
The Myth of Supermom
There once was a woman who had several children and provided for all of them without her sparkling smile leaving her face. While preparing her daily organic gourmet meals and perfect chocolate chip cookies (just in time for her children coming home from school) her apron cinched her waist while displaying her symmetrical form. Even though her body looks effortlessly flawless, she'll let you know her daily runs are the true reason for her slender form--that and her eight glasses of water a day as well as all the fruits and veggies she snacks on. She never passes on a bake sale but never over indulges on any treat.
You never see her sweat. She could run a marathon or face a firing squad without a hair falling out of place.
Her children are so well behaved, they could teach finishing school and their idea of rebellion is vacuuming the carpet in diagonal strokes.
Her wardrobe reflects current fashion without making her look like she's trying too hard or trying to hide her true age.
Her hair is coiffed in a style that is effortless but stylish and flattering.
Unrealistic as it seems, she never needs help, never takes a break, never waivers in her convictions or loyalties She's caring, compassionate, vivacious, energetic, Perfect!
She exposes all your insecurities in blinding light. Everything you struggle with she masters with ease and excels through any turbulence.
She turns you into a green-eyed monster.
She's Supermom! (queue the brass band and the fireworks announcing her arrival)
She can't be real...oh, wait, she's not...she's a myth.
Yes, there are real women who seem super human in the mom department, but they are an exception. Even those who exceed common conceptions of motherhood, fail in other areas.
I've aspired to be the mythical supermom, and even my short experience has shown failures to live up to those mythical expectations.
If we as mothers are setting ourselves up for failure by believing this myth of motherhood is ideal, what image of motherhood should we embrace rather than this myth?
I'm going to be working through different areas of the Supermom Myth in coming posts. If you have stories or insights
, please share as this is a complicated issue. There are the pressures from society, from yourself, from family. Some are valid, some are not. I am personally working through my idea of the mom I want to be and this will be one of my outlets to sort this out.
You never see her sweat. She could run a marathon or face a firing squad without a hair falling out of place.
Her children are so well behaved, they could teach finishing school and their idea of rebellion is vacuuming the carpet in diagonal strokes.
Her wardrobe reflects current fashion without making her look like she's trying too hard or trying to hide her true age.
Her hair is coiffed in a style that is effortless but stylish and flattering.
Unrealistic as it seems, she never needs help, never takes a break, never waivers in her convictions or loyalties She's caring, compassionate, vivacious, energetic, Perfect!
She exposes all your insecurities in blinding light. Everything you struggle with she masters with ease and excels through any turbulence.
She turns you into a green-eyed monster.
She's Supermom! (queue the brass band and the fireworks announcing her arrival)
She can't be real...oh, wait, she's not...she's a myth.
Yes, there are real women who seem super human in the mom department, but they are an exception. Even those who exceed common conceptions of motherhood, fail in other areas.I've aspired to be the mythical supermom, and even my short experience has shown failures to live up to those mythical expectations.
If we as mothers are setting ourselves up for failure by believing this myth of motherhood is ideal, what image of motherhood should we embrace rather than this myth?
I'm going to be working through different areas of the Supermom Myth in coming posts. If you have stories or insights
, please share as this is a complicated issue. There are the pressures from society, from yourself, from family. Some are valid, some are not. I am personally working through my idea of the mom I want to be and this will be one of my outlets to sort this out.
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