motherhood – Betsy Schow

S is for Success

So What is Success? What does it look like? When do you know you have it?

These are all questions that I’ve struggled with (ok still struggling).
Whatever I did, someone was better. Half of my friends went to Ivy League schools and the other half skipped school and became actors, writers, etc. And who was I? A stay at home mom. Big freakin whoop.
I didn’t have a big important 9-5 corporate job. Hilary Rosen would accuse me of “… never having worked a day” in my life.

Well this past year I’ve learned how to look at success a little differently. I even have a whole chapter about it in my book, Finished being Fat: An accidental adventure in losing weight and learning to finish. (coming out in January 2013, 🙂 thank you for asking ) As darn near every woman can tell you, motherhood is the hardest and lowest salaried job on the planet. First you have to grow a human being, which is pretty impressive considering I can’t even get my veggies to grow. You are responsible to teach your kids right from wrong, clean up sick, feed them healthy stuff, feed them crap when they won’t eat the healthy stuff, get them to school in semi clean clothes, make sure when they’re teenagers that they keep going to school, and the list goes on and on. Motherhood is definitely not 9-5, it’s 9-life.

I’ve decided that if my kids are still alive at the end of the day, I’m a success. It doesn’t matter if they’re the cutest dressed kids on the block, or the lead in the school play. As long as they are growing and improving as little people, then I must be doing something right.

Now for the hard part, applying what I’ve learned to writing. At first, my only goal was to finish a book. Once I did that the next logical step was to get it published. Okay, did that. Now I’m told that if I want my book to be a “success” it’s up to me to market the heck out of it. So I’m working my butt off, doing all the things my publisher has asked me to do: work on building an author’s platform, blog, gather facebook friends, tweet stuff, get endorsements.

I’ve started having nightmares. I’m over analyzing everything I do. Do enough people “like” me? Do I have enough followers? How many people are reading my blogs? Once again, whatever I’m doing, it feels like it’s not enough. I feel like a failure compared to everyone else.

Stop. Reboot. Go back to my original question. What is success? Is it being on the New York Times Best-sellers list? Is it have 5000 Facebook friends and hundreds of likes per post? Is it getting on a daytime talk show? If I did all these things then could I finally call myself a “success”?

Those things are all nice and fabulous, but I think success is something a little deeper. Just like in motherhood, I think success is changing one life for the better. Even if it’s your own. If your story, whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, has touched someone… congratulations- you are a successful writer. So What if you self publish, or have a small indie publisher. Doesn’t matter.You have made a difference. Something you created has made the world a little brighter.

If that isn’t success, I don’t know what is.

P is for Potty Party

It’s time to be proactive. I’m go to do the same thing I did for my first kiddo. She was ready, but we just couldn’t make a clean break from the pull ups. So we did a potty party. Potty training in one day.

I’ve about had it with my 2 and a half year old. She uses the potty about half the time. The other half, she changes her own diaper – and then hides the evidence.

In the case of the dreaded poopy diapers, all I can say is eewwww. For whatever reason potty training my second child has been much more difficult than training my first. But I’m busier now. Perhaps if I just spent more time. Well you know what they say about ifs and buts. But my problem is specifically about the butt.

The idea is to make it fun, almost like a birthday party. We invited a few friends over, there was a special cake, little presents, and lots of fun potty games. The whole day was spent playing with the potty and saying goodbye to the diaper. She was a big girl that could wear underwears.

This made a connection in my first daughter’s brain. Of course we had a few accidents afterwards, but just like a birthday party to celebrate getting older, she had celebrated growing up and getting rid of the diapers.

So I think in the next month I am really going to push the little one to lose the diapers. Let the party planning begin.

What worked for you and little poopers?

M is for Mistakes in Motherhood

Not a day goes by without a moment where I think, yup I have scarred my kids for life.

Words sound a whole lot different coming out of my mouth than my five year old’s. Sometimes I can’t tell how harsh something sounds until it’s parroted back at me.

The other night my oldest daughter was playing with her little sister. Apparently a two and half year old does not grasp the finer nuances of whack-a-mole and my preshcooler took issue with that.
“If you can’t play right, you don’t get to play,” she shouted and threw the game across the room.
I took issue with her behavior. My reply was angry and scolding, “If you can’t play nicely, you won’t have any friends and no one will want to play with you.” Then, since it was close to bedtime, I sent her off to her room to chill out and go to sleep early.

Alas she did not go quietly in the night. For the next half hour I could hear her screaming from her bed. “I don’t want to go to sleep. I hate you. I’m going to go find a new family.” A little while later I heard the phrase that broke my heart. “I don’t want to be alone. I need friends.”

Somewhere along the line I had screwed up. I had made a colossal mistake in motherhood and made my daughter feel unloved. It had not been my intent to hurt, just a frustrated attempt at correction. So What was I gonna do about it now?

I felt it would be an even worse mistake to let my child go off to sleep thinking that no one loved her. So I sat down with her, gave her loves and took the 2 minutes to explain why her behavior was unacceptable. Basically what I should have done in the first place. Afterwards I got my kiss goodnight and she was out like a light.

Not so much for me. I sobbed to my husband that I was the worst mother in the whole world. That we should start saving now because my kids would end up having huge therapy bills. He reminded me that kids were pretty darn resilient and my daughter would get over it. And the next time I got angry, I should just love ’em to death.

Sure enough, the next day my daughter gave me oodles of love and hugs. Telling me she loved me, that I was the best mommy ever. What I learned was that everybody makes mistakes. In particular, I will continue to make mistakes. It’s what we do afterwards that defines us as a parent.

I for one am going to apologize to my mother for the time I packed up my stuffed animals and ran away to my best friends house. I don’t remember what she did that made me so angry, but I remember the tears in her eyes when she couldn’t find me. Sure when I was discovered I got grounded, but I also got nearly hugged to death.

L is for Lullaby

My favorite part of the day when my girls were little, was bedtime. Not only because the little beasts were going to sleep, but because of our lullaby ritual.

I would swaddle my baby and sit in the rocking chair and sing a song or two until there little eyes were nice and droopy. Sometimes I would sing Twinkle Twinkle, or Rock a Bye Baby. But I had a favorite lullaby for each girl that is a little… different. I figured, hey they don’t know what the heck I’m saying. As long as it’s low and soothing I could sing the phonebook.

So for my oldest, my favorite tune was Death Cab for Cutie’s I”ll follow you into the dark.

For my little one is was the Smith’s Sing me to sleep.

To this day I get misty eyed when I hear those songs on the radio. They remind me of a time that was precious, crazy, and worth every minute.

What did you sing to your little ones?