Wellness - Issue No. 13
DYING IN NEW ZEALAND
The day my husband and I left for our ambitious adults-only trip to New Zealand, I developed a stomach bug, which, everyone initially insisted was caused by anxiety over leaving my kids. We were going with two other couples for our dear friend’s wedding, and the debilitating nausea and undesired gut-cleanse was not how I had envisioned kicking off our journey. Truth be told, I’m not sure if I actually thought we’d go through with the trip at all, as the anticipation of being on the other side of the world had caused me an unfamiliar level of intense worry in the weeks prior. The morning of our trip, between visits to the bathroom, I called a friend and asked her to listen to me cry. I’m not sure why I needed an audience or why I restricted my crying allowance to five minutes (both of these things probably say a lot about me), but for that designated time, I curled up and sobbed into the phone. Soon after, I attempted to package myself up enough to give my kids a fraudulently composed goodbye, before heading to the airport to embark on a painfully long and disorienting voyage to Auckland. We left on Monday and arrived on Wednesday. And despite the unpleasant situation of being locked in an aerodynamic metal box over water while my insides were churning, the idea of having to only consider my own needs felt like such an unfamiliar privilege. Upon our arrival in Auckland, I flopped my weak body into the bed of our friend, whose wedding we were there to attend, and fell asleep, while my husband and the four friends we had traveled with commenced our kid-free vacation.
I had come up with countless reasons to worry about everyone at home: my son running into oncoming traffic, my daughter getting bitten by a Copperhead snake hiding in the leaves in our backyard, our dog running away, our house burning down, our kids’ big feelings or propensity for puking being too much for their grandparents to take for so many consecutive days, but, as I lay in my friend’s bed, feeling weak and chilled, I began a new anxiety spiral: what if I die, or at the very least am hospitalized, in New Zealand? How could I do this to my children? I am not new to a health-anxiety-rabbit-hole. Two weeks prior, I had convinced myself that my tension headache from straining a muscle in a strength class was actually a brain tumor. And a couple of weeks before that I had decided that my writer’s block might actually be caused by early onset dementia. This hum of anxiety isn’t new, it began when I found out that I was pregnant with my daughter. I remember thinking once she was born how terrifying it was that she was now on the outside of me instead of the inside, that I wanted to protect her with every fiber of my being and yet I was just going to have to let her exist in this crazy world on her own. And then, that anxiety morphs into anxiety about the world we live in, a world that hasn’t prioritized gun reform, climate change, women’s reproductive health, trans-youth, or even whales. Because, of course, in the middle of my panic attack about leaving my children for our trip, I also did a weird internet-deep-dive into the recent steep increase of dead humpback whales that have been washing ashore. And, while it seems like I have really lost the throughline here, this digression exemplifies how anxiety breeds further anxiety.
I woke up the next morning in New Zealand, in a house with my husband and dear friends, feeling well-rested and ready, as cliché as it might be, for a piña colada and some sunshine. Perhaps, on the other side of the world, the whales are doing fine. And, while the hum of anxiety is ever-present, and leaving my kids to travel in some ways feels absolutely gut-wrenching, it also was rejuvenating. Traveling is a privilege, traveling without our kids is even more of a privilege, that is not lost on me. But, for those who can do it, for those who have a part of them that want to, I would urge you to try. Traveling without our kids gives them the opportunity to demonstrate, once again, how incredibly capable and resilient they are. They get to build stories about staying with their grandparents, something I used to dream about doing. It allows my husband and I to prioritize our marriage. And, traveling makes me a better person. Better at having perspective, better at remembering who I am when I’m well-rested and focused on my needs, better at taking deep breaths, better at revisiting music that isn’t about farms or touching my shoulders, better at recognizing how powerfully dynamic and interesting this world is, better at harnessing some of my favorite parts of myself. Despite all of the nerves, some of which I never was able to fully shake, it felt good to travel, it felt important. It is strange to think that the act of briefly leaving my kids helps me be a better mom. But, I believe that if you’re not filling your own cup, in whatever way works for you, you can’t show up like you otherwise might be able to for the ones who need you the most. So, at the risk of using a tired and oversimplified metaphor of putting your own oxygen mask on prior to someone else’s, make sure you remember, as often as you can, that it is not only okay but also necessary to fill your cup.
WHERE DO THE SICK PEOPLE GO?
I had high hopes for how much writing I would get done in the four and a half hours of the day, three times each week, when both of my kids are in school. What I had not considered is that while they are learning and exploring, they are also collecting relentless colds, and are habitually and exhaustingly sick. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, they are cesspools of germs, and I feel like we haven’t been well since September. For those of you who are lucky enough to have not experienced the chain of events that a cold with two little ones entails, this is how it unfolds in our house:
Our daughter sneezes one more time than is normal and we brace ourselves
Twenty-four hours later, she wakes up screaming because her nose is filled with snot and because she still hasn’t figured out how to blow it, which I would imagine is infuriating, as is being woken up to screaming
She proceeds to spend the next day fighting rest, feeling increasingly irritable, and uncomfortable in her skin, while our son runs circles around her
Twenty-four hours later, our son’s nose begins to produce an inconceivable amount of snot
My kids become little zombies with busy bodies and decreased brain function
Both kids get coughs that cause them to gag and have synchronized puking episodes, which never become less disgusting
Consistent sleeping stops. Screaming, hitting and crying escalates
Everyone is exhausted. And thus, we get sick too.
There must be another way, I’ve thought to myself. So, I decided it would be in my best interest to look up some guidance on how to best prevent this pervading obstacle in our lives. Here are some of the CDC’s recommendations and my follow-up questions:
Wash your hands often - Follow up: Will washing my hands still suffice if my children wipe their drippy noses all over my clothes, hair, and pillows?
Don’t touch your face with unwashed hands. If you are sick, cough or sneeze into a tissue or your sleeve to avoid spreading your cold - Follow up: So I know I shouldn’t touch my kid’s snot and then touch my face, but what about if my child sneezes into my mouth after asking me to hold their feverish body closer?
Avoid close contact with sick people, especially those who are coughing or sneezing -Follow up: where shall I put said sick people? Since it seems that there are always sick people at school, and since I am guilty of having sent my children to said school when they in fact themselves were not as well as they probably should have been, how might they avoid contact? Does this mean we all should forgo our work yet again to ensure isolation? Since the work pays for the health insurance which is needed for the sick kids, what does one do to ensure they’re performing at work while also keeping their sick kids away from other kids? Are there any further public health suggestions for moms who are having to continually face the reality that they cannot perform to their potential in jobs, mothering, hobbies, marriages and friendships because, just when they start to get into a rhythm, sickness strikes again? What if close contact is constant even when parents are wiped out, or snotty, or exhausted themselves?
Practice good health habits - Follow up: Have we missed some good health habits we should be following? Are we not feeding them the right foods? Too much gluten? Not enough fish oil? Should they be eating more kale? Or any kale? More protein? Less pesticides? Should we be giving them supplements or forcing more water into their little bodies? Do we have black mold growing in our walls that we are unaware of? Should I be cleaning our counters more often? Is it because sometimes I forget to remind them to wash their hands? How can I continue to promote good healthy habits when we’re not well? Is it me who is the problem?
Oh the places we could go and the people we could be, if the wellness of our family was more of a constant.
THE JOB OF A KID
I’ve been thinking recently about what jobs children have. I often say to my kids, “two of Mommy’s important ‘jobs’ are keeping you safe and making sure you feel loved.” Knowing my daughter’s inquisitive nature, I’m anticipating that the question, “well, what are my jobs?” is impending. While reading Dr. Becky’s book, "Good Inside: A Guide to Becoming the Parent You Want to Be," she mentions that the most important job of a child is to explore. She explains that this is why the insurmountable feat of sitting in a chair through dinner is often too much for my son and daughter’s little bodies to take. Because in asking them to stay seated, we are asking them to not explore the hundreds of sensory stimuli occurring around them at all times: to not investigate whether all parts of the booth feel the same, to not be fascinated by the world of feet under the table, to not try to stack butters or half and half containers, to not touch the boogers in their noses or their hair once their fingers have marinara on them, to not try to make shapes out of spilled milk or investigate if Mommy’s food tastes the same as theirs, to not see which volume of voice gets the biggest reaction from those around them, to not visit the dog under the table for a mid-meal huddle, and to not just let out whatever sound comes into their little bodies without impetus.
Our job of keeping our children safe often butts heads with their job of exploring. For instance, yesterday when my son wanted to barrel roll himself down our staircase in a circus tent, it was my job to say “no.” I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be to be told “no” so much at your job. No wonder our kids get so frustrated when we stop them from doing things that we see as their best attempts at testing natural selection. That being said, recently I was introduced to the concept of “Wait. Watch. Wonder”, and it has been quite eye-opening. This concept isn’t always possible. For instance, with the previous example of my son hurling his body down the stairs in a tent, the Wait, Watch and Wonder approach would have likely led us to the emergency room. However, so often, I interfere or interject and offer my insight or expertise before they’ve had adequate time to try it out themselves. So, here’s how this approach has worked for me:
Wait. Pausing, when possible, allows us to take a breath and allows our kids the opportunity to do their job – explore. Certainly, our job is also to set boundaries, but more often than I sometimes acknowledge, my kids exploring and me setting boundaries don’t need to work against each other.
Watch. Watch openly and curiously with the same level of exploration as children bring to their every day. So, often we are on a screen or focused on productivity and we don’t give enough credit to just being a curious, open observer of the world
Wonder. Think openly and without criticism: what are they trying to do and why? I have found this approach to be incredibly valuable in my interactions with both of my children. My son will grab his sister’s snack from the counter and instead of stopping him or asking him to leave it in the kitchen, I watch him gently deliver it into the hands of my daughter. My daughter will run upstairs when we see on the monitor that my son is up from his nap, and instead of asking her to wait for me, I watch on the monitor as she opens the door and he looks at her with sheer delight as they hug each other.
And sure, expectations must be set, societal norms need to be understood, and parameters put into place, but also creating space for kids to just do their jobs and explore, has been the catalyst for some real magical moments of kindness and autonomy to unfold in our family.
SOMETHING THAT
DID WORK
Recently, I watched the Stutz documentary by Jonah Hill. The next day, during the time I usually reserve for writing, I found myself jotting down in my notebook all of the “tools” he mentioned and how I could apply them to my life. The premise of the documentary is that Jonah Hill believes that his therapist, a man named Phil Stutz, has an array of incredibly useful “tools” that Hill felt others who are grappling with their own challenges might find as useful as he did. It’s been several weeks since I watched the documentary, and I’ve found myself revisiting the concepts Stutz introduced time and time again. Here are the five things Stutz said in the movie that stuck with me the most:
Life Force - Whenever you are feeling down or lost, you should start by working on your "life force" which has three components - 1. Body (Exercise, diet, sleep) 2. People (Connect to get pulled back into life. It doesn’t have to be with your favorite person, and it is important that you initiate it.) 3. Self (Get in a relationship with your self consciousness. Write.)
Part X - This is our villain, the part of ourselves that makes it hard to change or grow. This part of us creates fear and doubt in ourselves and can be debilitating.
The Shadow - The part of yourself that you’re ashamed to carry with you. It’s the part of you that you wish you weren’t and you can’t get rid of it.
The Snapshot - This is the image we have in our minds of the perfect life or perfect experience. Part X made this picture or at least holds onto this picture. It is a frozen moment that has no movement, dynamism or depth. It’s unrealistic and doesn’t exist. This could be in the form of a perfect partner, amount of money, or success. Just like Part X, it’s quite toxic.
The Maze - This is the byproduct of Part X. It’s the visualization of a futile quest for fairness that keeps you stuck in the past and puts your life on hold as you cling to resentment or anger. Instead of moving past these emotions, you hold onto them. Stutz shares how such practices as “active love” and “the grateful flow” are the ways forward.
So, all of this to say, if you can and are willing, make time for this movie, it's worth it.
SOMETHING THAT
DIDN’T WORK
Before we left for our recent adults-only trip to New Zealand, my daughter began to call our son “Lewis.” This is in no way his name. His name doesn’t even share any common letters with the name “Lewis.” We’ve explained to our daughter why our son isn’t responding to this “nickname”, and we’ve asked her to stop calling him this, but she’s continued to do so. In a similar vein of things that feel random and out of our control, our son has begun hitting and pushing. Perhaps, in toddler protest of being called Lewis. This new behavior isn’t during fits of rage, but instead in what feels like completely random moments. I was delusionally hopeful that this behavior was limited to our home but a week before we left for our trip to New Zealand, his teacher told me that his hitting had in fact made it to the classroom. That day, we went home and got a book about hitting, we talked about alternatives when you have energy in your hands, we practiced other behavior, we praised him for how good he makes people feel when he’s not hitting. But the pushing and hitting has persisted. I know deep down that my son’s behavior isn’t abnormal. He is learning how to play, how to use his body, how his actions impact others. It is all data collection. But, it feels like we have done something wrong and that we can’t find the right formula to fix it.
The other night, on the monitor, I saw my son sitting like a little genie atop his changing table. When I came in and asked him what was wrong, he explained, “I sad… I hit Olive.” There are so many things to say, so many things I’ve already tried. You are kind, you are funny, you are creative, you can hold people up, you can make them feel good, you can treat them with kindness and gentleness, you have already done all of these things, you are a good kid, you can find another way to use the energy in your hands, we will keep practicing, I say to his body, which is growing ever more limp in my arms, his lamb lovey grasped in his hand in the dark. I am not sure that a word I have said has actually been absorbed into his tired little curly-haired head.
There is a powerlessness about this stage of data collection that is absolutely exhausting. I just want all of his goodness to shine in every room he’s in. How does one get an active, temperamental two-year old to move more intentionally and conscientiously? How do you turn cause and effect into empathy, how do you describe long-term consequences of behavior without instilling guilt and enforcing “bad-kid” energy? How do you respect the process and follow the logic of these little humans who are growing more complex each day? How can my children, the thing in my life that I am closest and most connected to, become in any way unfamiliar?
SUSTENANCE SUGGESTIONS
Growing up, my next door neighbors used to make chicken and dumplings and I remember thinking that there was likely nothing better. When my daughter was born, this was among the first dishes I craved. To me, adulting means a lot of things: paying bills, thinking about hardwood floors, considering lawn care and cholesterol, but also, and arguably just as importantly, learning how to make chicken and dumplings. While the cold weather is nearly behind us and thus this dish will soon feel out of season, after trying out several recipes, this is the best I’ve found for making the chicken and dumplings of my childhood dreams.
