What did you fail at today?

When I was in elementary and middle school, I was deathly afraid of getting bad grades.  Once I got a B (which my mind translated to F) on a test and I cried and cried and cried.

When I got to high school, the stakes became higher. I learned about the triad of dreaded acronymns- GPA, PSAT, and SAT. 

*Shudder shudder shudder* 

I wore them like heavy chains around my heart.  I became even more afraid of failing.  On the outside I showed a smiley faced demeanor and acted like I didn't care too much.  But inside I was fiercely competitive.  School was the one thing that I was always good at.  I studied hard and wasn't happy unless every grade was some sort of A.  I put a lot of pressure on myself because I didn't want to be labeled the dreaded F word: Failure.

*Shiver*

This September, for the first time in twenty-seven years, I'm no longer a student.  I'm no longer working for a grade and dreading what someone will label me.   (If you're interested in my decision to drop out of the PhD program, you'll have to wait a big longer.  I'm still reflecting on that whole journey.  That'll be for another post, for another day, for another blog...)


Now that I'm no longer being graded, I feel a loosening of the weights around my heart.  Gone are the scary nightmares where I'm back in school and *gasp* asked to take a ridiculous math exam that I didn't study for.

Now that I'm not being graded anymore, I'm giving myself a free pass.  I'm giving myself permission to fail.

Wait, strike that.  I'm encouraging myself to fail... every day.

Surprised?

Last spring I heard an interview of Sara Blakely, the inventor of Spanx.  (According to Forbes magazine, she's the world's youngest self-made billionaire.)  When I listened to her journey, I was struck by a story she shared about her father.  Every night he would ask his children to name one thing that they failed at that day.  Faced with this question night after night, Sara was encouraged to try to do new things every day. 

She learned not to be afraid of failing.  She also learned that failure didn't happen when things didn't work out.  Failure meant not pushing yourself to try new things, not pushing yourself to do and be more than the day before.

That story planted itself into my heart.

I'm going to fail at something every day.  This way I can stop being afraid of things and grow.

What's up, Baby Chuck?

Yesterday Baby Chuck was having a blast playing with his toys.

I took the opportunity to take some photos.

He's such a funny little guy.

 

PA236589.AVI from Pink Stripey Socks on Vimeo.

I need my fix

It's finally happened.

A big name craft store moved into our town.
It's a 10 minute drive from our apartment.

I promised myself that I would be good. I'd only go in and peek around.  Just one peek couldn't hurt right? 

But one peek lead to another and soon I found myself walking through all the aisles, "oohing" and "ahhing"  over everything.  What sparkly baubles!  So many colorful sheets of paper!  Ooh, they sell undecorated wood?

I couldn't help myself.
I bought some items today. 

And I'll be heading back tomorrow. 

I think I'm a crafting junkie!

Thanks

I just wanted to say a great big thank you for your outpouring of kindness last week.  I was really surprised and touched by all your thoughtful comments and emails.  Thank you for your encouragement and thank you for sharing your stories with me as well.

I started this blog two years ago.  I created it on a whim as a place to store random stories and thoughts that made me happy.  I never dreamed that I would keep it going for this long or that it would help me to overcome some shyness and find community.

Thanks for joining me on this journey and thanks for your encouragement and support.

I think this week is going to be a great one. 

Parenting stories and tips

Did you ever have a week where you felt like everything you did was wrong?

I know I'm not a perfect parent.
And I know that I could learn a lot from other mommies.

But sometimes I find it so difficult to just smile and nod when yet another mother or nanny gives me unsolicited advice. 

It always comes about the same way.
            First, she asks The question, "How old is he?"
            I respond, "13 months."
            They seem surprised.  "Really?  But he's so small.  He only looks (insert number less than 10) months.  And he still isn't walking?"

Even though I've had this conversation several times, it always hurts like a knife to my chest.  Everyone seems to operate under the assumption that a healthy baby is big and walks around by himself.  

And then the ladies always continue with those two dreadful words, "You should..."

Stab stab.

I'm beginning to dislike those two words.  Yes, their advice comes from a good place, but sometimes I just don't want to hear it.  They don't know me and they don't know my child.

They don't know how we battled terrible eczema during his first year of life.  They don't know about all the allergy testing and sleepless nights that we went through. They don't know how we once had to change his bed crib sheets every night because he would scratch and rub until his face and head bled.  They don't know that we're doing our best to live and eat normally given (what seems like) our every-growing list of allergens:  wheat, soy, barley, nuts, and bass.   

I'm crying as I'm writing this, because it's just so frustrating.  Yes, I am a new mommy.  Yes, I have lots to learn.  Yes, I'm making lots of mistakes along the way.  But I'm sorry, sometimes I just don't want to hear your advice, well meaning or not.

Maybe my kid is small.  Maybe he should eat more.  Maybe I shouldn't carry him so much. But you know what?  Please just back off.  I'm already berating myself enough. I'm just doing the best that I can.


And lately when I've been getting like this, I always try to think back to all the parenting tips and stories that I do appreciate hearing. You know which ones I'm talking about.  They're the ones that make me laugh and remind me that all parents make mistakes, kids do crazy-funny-scary things, and we're all just trying to love our kids the best that we can.
Here's what one mommy confessed to me at the park the other day:

 

And you know what?
Her little girl looked just fine to me.

Thank you, cat food girl's mommy, for reminding me that things will be ok.