The Trouble with Labels

A great discussion after yoga class this morning has had me wondering all day- what would you choose to be if you removed all the labels you place on yourself?

Seriously. Maybe they're characteristics of a particular season in your life in which others identified you- just adjectives from adolescence or childhood- and you just accepted them as permanent fixtures, adopted them as your very nature.  Or maybe they're self-proclaimed, true tendencies, and you wear them like a badge.  But let's think about it for a second.

I convinced myself I was made a certain way for much of my life.  I'm a procrastinator. I'm lazy. Incapable of finishing what I start. Naturally good at math, science,  and music, but too undisciplined to be great at any of them. Bad knees. Eating issues. Genetically incapable of being an athlete of any sort. Big boned with a slow metabolism (my favorite)... the list goes on.

It was true.  I was all of these.  But here's the deal- it's who I was and who I remained because I accepted those things and they became my excuses. I didn't struggle through them to be more of what I wanted. I instead struggled to accept them... and accepting most of them truly was a struggle for me because I didn't like some of those traits. In acceptance, though, they became road blocks that held me back, and I grew comfortable in my box just saying, "Oh, that's cool, but I could never do that. I'm too _________. I'm content where I am."  But I wasn't.

I didn't want to be (mostly self) labeled as lazy anymore, so I got off the couch to knock out daily "to do" lists and learned (ok, still learning) how to better manage my time.  I didn't want to be someone who didn't finish what I started, so I took one step after another to finish whatever it was. Everyday was a choice to counteract those habits I wanted to change. Am I still a procrastinator by nature?  Yes, but I don't like that, so I recognize the behavior and make a conscious choice to change it when I see it.

Of course, in all of this, I realize that my childhood dream of being an Olympic gymnast is beyond me now, but that doesn't stop me from bending over backwards, flipping around, and enjoying the movement my body grows more capable of everyday. At almost 37 years old, it's almost the same thing, right? I still have bad knees, but I don't let them stop me from making steps toward my physical fitness goals.  I just go slower (because it is important to recognize limits and not injure yourself.)

The hardest realization is when I find myself doing it to my children, describing them to people as this or that, and boxing them in, however unintentionally. I believe we are each given certain gifts we should nurture and develop, and we are absolutely led by certain traits. I encourage my kids to seek those out, but I don't believe they (or we) should be limited to activities, careers, etc. based on predisposition, genetic or otherwise.  I try to be very careful of my words now. I want my children to own who they are, but I want them to find the balance to know when to move if they want something more or different.

All I'm saying is this- if you want something, figure out what it is keeping you from it, and tear down that wall one small brick at a time. Be good to yourself along the way. The journey can be long and riddled with ridiculous opinions and hardships. But strip yourself of the labels, even just for a second, to imagine all that you've ever dreamed of being, and let nothing stop you in that pursuit, especially not your own perception.

Under the Influence of Little Boy Humor

Double-take at Target yesterday... I was *certain* I saw "pillowFART" while making my way to the home goods department clearance end-cap.

Every little girl's dream bedding, right? 😂

Now, it would've been a down-right riotous scene, if I had been in the company of my boys. Or at least, there would've been a greater display of appreciation for the mistake.  As it was, the woman perusing the cozy Snuggies at the end of the aisle thought I was unquestionably insane based on the hysterical laughter coming from this solitary soul.  I may have even snorted.

Apparently, this is the result of spending the entirety of my days with three boys between the ages of six and twelve.

Domino Toppler Extraordinaire

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I don't get that question much anymore, because, well... I'm 36. Grown. But don't you know, it still applies!I wear many of those proverbially hats people are always going on about. First and foremost, you can label me the typical wife & mother, of the "stay home" variety. We'll throw "tattooed and sometimes scandalously clad homeschooling momma" in there together, just to be more specific, and because it's fun to see the look of surprise on people's faces when slaying their vision of the stereotypical, sheltered homeschool type. That makes me a teacher, too, though I tutor more than my own spawn. And because that's not enough to keep my two hands occupied, I've passionately adopted the title of small business owner, times 2, making gourmet jams & jellies with my best friend, and building my own little branch of the most fabulous health & wellness company 'round these parts. Together, these make up only a small portion of the dreams I'm setting out to realize. My desire is to be the the most eclectic combination of all these professions, as well as yoga instructor, farmer, and writer. Interesting fusion, right?

Its a mouthful of an answer, too, so I've invented a better, all encompassing title, however vaguish it might be. For the sake of simplicity, and because I doubt the defining of who I am will stop with merely these fine adventures, I've chosen to designate my pursuits and achievements under the title of...

Domino Toppler.

That's right! I'm gonna set those little dominoes up one at a time, and then I'll knock 'em all down, insuring that each falls right into its perfect place, creating the flawless masterpiece of the run. I'm fully expecting crazy looks when entertaining anyone who dares ask what I do, but at the very least it would be an interesting conversation & far better than the "jill-of-all-trades" response. 

Further more, the one thing I've learned in life, and will be passing on to my unsocialized weirdos, is this... I define who I am, and I don't concern myself with the likes of titles others bestow upon me.

What Kind of Cheeseburger Do You Want to Be?

Would you rather be a cheeseburger from Red Robin or McDonald's?

This may seem like a very silly question to you (unless you've recently participated in one of the many Buzz Feed quizzes currently circulating on Facebook), but it was in a moment of insane and sheer parenting desperation that I asked my son this very question.

We are coming off of a really tough couple of days.  There has been a lot of whining, fighting, and just plain ole grumpiness in our house this week.  Everything I have asked of my boys has been met with resistance and frustration.  Sadly, the bad attitudes haven't only belonged to my children either, and yesterday I reached my limit.  Each child took a turn throwing their own little fit…

And then it was my turn.

I try very hard not to yell at my kids.  I am no expert at parenting, but I have been doing it long enough to realize that irrationally screaming at them doesn't do any of us much good.  I learned this lesson years ago when I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I was angrily shouting about the importance of obedience.  As you can imagine, the distorted fury on my face wasn't pretty.  It still happens more often than I'd care to admit, but I'm learning to at least recognize my limits.  Yesterday, as I crossed the border of rationality into insanity, I simply retreated to my room for a much needed "timeout."

Twenty minutes later, it was Christian who braved the uncertainty of Mom's mood and quietly came into my room, his face still stained with the tears from a battle over what little homeschool work he had been given that morning.

 At first, I didn't dare open my mouth.  I wasn't sure what he wanted or where it would go, but as he stepped closer to me with the clear intention of apologizing, I asked him, "What kind of cheeseburger would you rather be- one from Red Robin or one from McDonald's?"

I'm not really sure where it came from and I'm almost certain by the look on his face he was thinking, "That's it- call the looney bin!  She's lost her mind for sure this time," BUT I had his attention, and so I ran with it!

"Let me explain,"  I said.  "If we were going out to dinner and your choices were Mickey D's or Red Robin, which would you choose?"

"Red Robin," he answered.

"Why?"

"I like their food better."

"Me, too.  Red Robin's burgers are made of better beef, fresher ingredients, and served on a real plate.  They put more time and effort into creating their meals, don't they?  And they have better customer service, all making a visit to Red Robin more enjoyable and worth the higher price.

"THAT is what your father and I are trying to do with you.  If we invest in you by teaching you good manners, responsibility, independence, and we give you the opportunity for the best academic education possible, we're hoping you'll grow up to be… well… great cheeseburgers… or the best human beings you can be anyway."

He giggled, and with it came the very moment we needed to turn our day around.

I continued, "It's important though for you to invest in yourselves as well.  You have to want to be better burgers, and it isn't always easy.  It takes dedication in the pursuit of self-improvement.  That is why you're assigned the school work and chores you're given and why I expect you to do them with happy hearts.  They are meant to enrich your lives and make you better people.  Does that make sense to you?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"So again I ask, what kind of burger do you want to be?"

"Definitely a Red Robin cheeseburger," he said with a grin stretching across his face.

"Good.  Now send Julian in here so he can understand the importance of being a good cheeseburger, too."

And with a hug, he gave another giggle as he ran off to find his brother.   As he did, I took one more moment to myself- but this time, it wasn't a "timeout."  It was more of a "holy-cow-that-just-happened."  I actually found a way, however off the wall, to explain to my boys that our expectations of them are not so we can call ourselves rulers of this little 3-man army we've made, but for their own health and well-being!

I'm not sure how long this light bulb will stay on.  It seems I've been repeating myself for years, and we've had so-called breakthrough moments before that have been shorter lived than I expected.  What I do know is I reached my kids better in that 5 minute conversation than I had in the few weeks leading up to it.  The rest of the evening went much smoother, too; school work that wasn't even assigned was completed, floors were swept and vacuumed without a word from me, and happily everyone's attitude was on the mend.  This morning I even awoke to Christian copying his charts for his Essentials class!  (If you knew how hard it was to get this kid to pick up a pencil, you would understand my elation in this gesture of his!)

So, now I am armed with the "Red Robin cheeseburger" weapon against defiance, and a once-again renewed perspective on parenting.  Discipline of all sorts will always be in my armory, but I won't forget that creative parenting strategies often throw their game off just enough to cross the great divide between parent and child, and truly move mountains.