Every time I’m out with my kids – this seems to happen:
An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, “Oh– Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast.”
Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.
I know that this message is right and good. But as 2011 closes, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn’t work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life – while I’m raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I’m not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I’m doing something wrong.
I think parenting young children (and old ones, I’ve heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they’ve heard there’s magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it’s hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.
And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers – “ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU’LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN’T!” TRUST US!! IT’LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!” – those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.
Now. I’m not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: “Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast.”
At that particular moment, Amma had swiped a bra from the cart and arranged it over her sweater, while sucking a lollipop undoubtedly found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. A losing contestant. I couldn’t find Chase anywhere, and Tish was sucking the pen from the credit card machine WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, “Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you.”
That’s not exactly what I wanted to say, though.
There was a famous writer who, when asked if she loved writing, replied, “No. but I love having written.” What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, “Are you sure? Are you sure you don’t mean you love having parented?”
I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.
Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I’m being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times – G, if you can’t handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?
That one always stings, and I don’t think it’s quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it’s hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she’s not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn’t add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it’s so hard means she IS doing it right…in her own way…and she happens to be honest.
Craig is a software salesman. It’s a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don’t ever feel the need to suggest that he’s not doing it right, or that he’s negative for noticing that it’s hard, or that maybe he shouldn’t even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he’s ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: “This career stuff…it goes so fast…ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? THE FISCAL YEAR FLIES BY!! CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!”
My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn’t enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn’t in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn’t MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I’d wake up and the kids would be gone, and I’d be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.
But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here’s what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:
“It’s helluva hard, isn’t it? You’re a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She’s my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime.” And hopefully, every once in a while, I’ll add– “Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up- I’ll have them bring your groceries out.”
Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn’t work for me.I can’t even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.
Here’s what does work for me:
There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It’s regular time, it’s one minute at a time, it’s staring down the clock till bedtime time, it’s ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it’s four screaming minutes in time out time, it’s two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.
Then there’s Kairos time. Kairos is God’s time. It’s time outside of time. It’s metaphysical time. Kairos is those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day, and I cherish them.
Like when I actually stop what I’m doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can’t hear her because all I can think is – This is the first time I’ve really seen Tish all day, and my God – she is so beautiful. Kairos.
Like when I’m stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I’m haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I’m transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles of healthy food I’ll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world’s mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.
Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.
These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don’t remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.
If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.
Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.
Good enough for me.
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2,618 Comments
This was great! It’s nice to hear you talk about Kairos time–one of my favorite discoveries in things to ponder when I was a young mom. And thanks for the honesty about being tired, and standing up to the judgment of others.
My first born is about to have her first born and I love hearing her talk about life and days and struggles as she gets ready. Oh, and just so you know, it’s a new chapter of wonderful to enjoy my girls all over again as beautiful women, career warriors, single and married and now a mom to be.
Please keep writing and enjoy all the chronos and kairos the day and clamor allow!
Thank you for putting how I feel into words! Thank you!!!! Absolutely awesome writing!
Soooo encouraging! Thank you very much!
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Well said!
you SO rock. SO SO SO rock.
I needed this post.
I quit reading your blog for awhile because I couldn’t take all the horrible things you were talking about. I don’t want to hear about some woman’s dead child. I get enough of that at work. I VIVIDLY understand that every moment of every day someone’s world is caving in and I can’t bear to think about it when I don’t have to. However, I’m a mom who feels like you do a lot…about parenting and the struggle of parenting. Thanks.
Grandma Kelli here, congratulating you on your perspective and your ability to articulate it. I wish I had had a blog between 1977-1997, when I was raising my four children — the four born in four years. THAT was hard, and I had no mom or sisters to vent to. Back then long distance charges prevented me from even telephoning my out of state mother. I would pray for her to call me, so that I could get some perspective and support. Thank Heaven for the internet today! I love your blog and the reminder of why I consider my four grown children to be the jewels in my crown. Being a grandma is MUCH easier and WAY more fun.
Thank you for this post. It is beautiful. I think it is how most mothers feel, but sadly, many are afraid or ashamed to admit it.
Loved your article. I can so relate to the Target scene, I had to laugh out loud. Sounds identical to one of my shopping experiences recently with my 4 girls (7 and under). I say go for 4! Even teams and all! And, really, once you have 3, 4 is not so different. Just adds to the chaos. Thanks for the honesty and the laugh. Really enjoyed it.
Ironically, you finished up your article describing exactly what those ladies in the store said to you. They just didn’t call it Kairos time. But stopping for those moments – “taking in the view” – that’s what they meant. And they wanted to be supportive and acknowledge you – even though you’re a stranger – because maybe they think it could make a difference and lift the spirits of someone who’s presently in the thick of it, in an age where sometimes moms who snapped are in the news…?
P.S. I don’t get the comparison to your husband’s job – it’s a totally different situation. He’s replaceable and interchangeable at his job. Not true of yours. His “product” didn’t come from him in a physically real way, doesn’t share his DNA… it’s just not even in the same galaxy as far as meaning and magnitude.
I Totally agree. I am the mother of 4 children 6 and under. I even homeschool them. I will tell you I am very inpatient, I yell when I shouldn’t, I am scatterbrained, but I cherish every moment with my kids! I didn’t use too. I do my best to not get into the 4 hours until bedtime syndrome because the reality is, this is the job we signed up for. This is it!! I believe if we learn to embrace that this is our reality, and love it for what it is, it becomes not only possible to love every minute, but it becomes second nature to enjoy it. I believe these grandmothers who tell us to cherish every moment realized this a little late, and are only trying to express it in the only way they know how, especially to a stranger. They are words of encouragement, words of wisdom, words of strength, word of regret, words of hope. I believe they would tell you the same things that you have said. Kinda how my one year old played in the toilet today or pooped in the bathtub yesterday. Was this my ideal situation? Heck no! Although I have learned how to laugh and say, before I know it they will be grown and I will wish they were playing in the toilet. I can say that with my last one I have enjoyed every moment with him. I cannot explain it but I can say this. I stopped trying to fit into a mold of the perfect mom, and I melted into the mold of the mom I am suppose to be, me. I let go of my own expectation, as well as everybody else’s, and focused on enjoying one day at a time. I made a decision to be the best me I could be everyday. Nothing more, Nothing less. I learned to say No to people when I needed too and yes when it called for it. I began to focus on having fun with my kids, building tents, playing make believe, teaching them how to have fun. I got really organized. (which is not me by nature) I believe it is all in perspective. I am thankful God blessed me with my crazy little kids, especially on the days they test me. It is on those days I learn the most if I will allow them to teach me.
Wonderful wise perspective. mine are 23 21 11 and a “new” 15 year old. I will be grandmother for the first time in April. I am learning to carpe diem although I did quite a bit from the beginning. I appreciate the struggles of younger moms, remember them well,still living a lot of them. But your perspective will change and when you look back and you are remembering the good and choosing to leave the bad in the past, you too will be an “old lady” (although your definition of old will have changed too, and you will realize the disrespect in such a reference) telling especially the ones you love most,much less strangers in the grocery store, to enjoy every minute. And there will not be a single bit of anything in your heart except a strong desire to multiply the happiness of motherhood. So as one who has been there,and who is still there in many ways,especially with my sweet but challenging 11year old who happens to have autism, I still say to you, without apology because i know you understand one day, seize the day!
Love this! Funny and true and sweet.
I’m think you missed the point of the little old lady holding her heart and telling you to enjoy every moment because time goes by so fast. A neighbor and friend of mine told me that when my son was small and now that he’s grown up and gone I know exactly what she meant.
My son is 27 and has been out of my house for 9 years now. He had a good childhood, but I missed out on a lot because I was too busy raising him and didn’t take the time to enjoy him.. When she says to enjoy every moment, she is trying to tell you and all young mothers to spend time with your children on something other than the mundane everyday duties, teach them, play with them, sing and dance together, enjoy each other. Make them laugh and then listen and enjoy the sound. Of course, there will be nerve racking real life situations, like the one you mentioned at the store with your children, but that goes with their age and that will pass. That little lady is looking at your little children with different eyes than you are . She sees them as spry little children full of energy and all the potential they have to fill your life with love and happiness. She is trying to tell you to laugh at the bad time and savor the good every step of the way.
Mary Kay, I have to agree with you 100%. But I am not on the other end as you are. I am the mama of 2 beautiful little girls, 7yrs. & 17 months. And I have to make a conscience effort everyday to see and do as you are describing. I think all too often mamas today are too focused on the doing (which does still need to be done) and they do not make the effort to get down and play and laugh and have as much fun with the little ones as they should. We are too focused on how the house should look or how we should look or keeping up the other mamas in our lives. But I have found that when I let the daily chores take more of a backseat and instead play and laugh with the littles they are WAY more well behaved and cooperative. And life is fuller and peaceful.
Exactly.
I agree Mary Kay. I also think that those ladies who comment may have some regrets, that they didnt enjoy their children as much as they wish they had. As mothers , we do the best we can, my kids survived, and so will yours. Yes it was tough raising children, but then how would I have ever known what it was to be blessed with 4 extraordinary grandchildren ?? I would do it all over again !
The good, the bad and the ugly !
Mary Kay, I think you missed the point of the entire article. She does enjoy those moments.
You are correct Mindy. She does. Glennon is a very involved mother. Her message is don’t feel guilty if you are not peeing roses everyday. So many moms **feel guilty**. And it is the Kairos moments that we will remember most. The little old lady comment just got her thinking. I’ll tell ya what got my goat was in the early comments after, I was upset at people bashing the little old ladies out there!
That was both amazing and beautiful! Thank you!
I really loved this article and I am only pregnant with my first child. It’s so nice to hear from another person, and in such a great way, that not every moment of parenting is bliss, but even rare moments of bliss make all the tough moments worth being a parent. Thank you for expressing your feelings of parenting in such a wonderful and understandable way.
Loved this … seriously … so much. I linked my blog to your blog and posted about this. Thank you!
Two words: Teenage Years.
Hold on, and enjoy the times when you can still control the day…I would LOVE to jump back in those days just for a moment when I truly did absorb every amazing minute, and when my kids loved everyday and me! I look back as my son is graduating (and two daughters behind him) and those early years were the best. Hands down.
This was so timely for me today & I can soooo relate!! I also write & I also have 3 kids with #4 on the way… This pregnancy has been very hard on me so far. I’m not getting much done around the house or with my writing or with my kids. I’m so overwhelmed I find myself thinking I’d have to be crazy to be excited for the arrival of this new little one! thinking of it like a mountain climb is beautiful. You have to enjoy the views *sometimes* but sometimes you just have to keep climbing 😉
Everyone who has ever had a child, thought about having a child, or seen a child ought to read this. Thank you so much for putting so eloquently what most (maybe all, if they’re being honest) moms think: Being a mother is the hardest, most wonderful thing I’ve ever done.
LOVED this article! This was so helpful to hear and it’s good to know I’m not alone in how I feel at times.
YES! Much like that long distance road trip where the drive to and from is pretty miserable, long and dreary – but SO worth it to be with family.
I’m a single mother of three, and there are days when it’s just plain tough. I know this is true of all mothers and in that we are much more alike than different. But my little ones give me reasons to laugh and smile each day. They are gifts and I’m trusting God to help me raise them well.
Thank you for sharing!
You put it so very well what I was thinking the other day, as I was attempting to catch upon on 7 years of scrapbooking. I wondered if I enjoyed my kids each moment or wished away their childhood longing for bedtimes, seeking and expecting signs of maturity that would lighten my load. And I was feeling guilty. I love being a parent, even if I don’t do it well all the time. Your article is timely.
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Amen sister. I loved the comment about the one in the corner peeing and about picking up the grocery tab. I always say that once my kids are grown, if I somehow have money. I want to be the kind of person that takes the kids for the weekend and so that a mom can get a break so maybe she can savor the sweet moments which sometimes are few and far between. And I really hope I am that person. But after reading a couple of comments here, I’ve also decided that I’m going to be the old lady that steers the kid peeing in the corner toward the man that presumes to tell the poor exhausted mother that not appreciating her kid swinging from the ceiling fan means she doesn’t appreciate her kid. I figure that might give the in-compassionate and totally unaware man a little bit of an idea of the frustration that these precious little people we’re talking about can cause. And at the same time it might just allow that mom to cherish at least one of the moments, her child chose to pee in a place he wasn’t supposed to.
I am that older woman although only 46. I so often want to say “enjoy these times” when I see young moms with their young children – but I refrain knowing how I felt when I was in their shoes. When young moms become that “older woman”, they then fully understand. Until then….head some real good advice and “Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day”
You are a wonderful mom! Thank you for so excellently describing (and empathizing with) MY LIFE! With 3 boys of 5, 3, and1, I’m totally there with you!! There’s a lot of us in the trenches together. Carpe Naptime!
Thank u thank u thank u. I am not alone. And just because I look forward to my 2little girls falling asleep doesn’t mean I don’t love WATCHING them fall asleep.
I’m a grandma and I enjoyed this blog so much. Everything you said was dead on. Parenting is not for the feint of heart, but then there are those wonderful, amazing moments that take our breath away. Really enjoyed this and can’t wait to come back and read more. Thanks, Susie
I love when real women are…real. I appreciate you taking the time (and risk) of being transparent. I think it’s important for us mamas to stick together and be honest – it isn’t easy! Your post is very encouraging and I hope these many comments encourage you to continue being transparent, to help others of us out there smile seeing we aren’t the only ones counting down hours or minutes until hubby’s home or bedtime ;0 Seriously. Smiling as I listen to my 17 month old CIO as she’s going through another phase of fighting naps. She’s almost to the point of pass out or bypass…and all the crying will not ruin my day/evening. Sigh. I just may start sipping some wine while making dinner until these difficult naps are over ;0
I loved this, but I have to say that if you console a mom by saying it’s hard (as I tend to do), you are just as likely to get the sunshine blown up your backside from her as from these carpe diem strangers. I’ve said to many a new mom, “it’s really hard, I understand that,” and most of the time they say, “yes, but it’s so worth it!” or “well they’re only little once, I’m just trying to enjoy it.”
Seriously.
Makes you feel like you’re the only one out there who thinks kids are really, really tough.
Maybe those moms agree with you inside but don’t want to do it out loud in front of their kids? I was raised by my grandma and she sometimes complained to her friends about how difficult I was – me being within ear shot. Not cool. I love my grandma and owe her a lot but I still remember the sting of that, and the shame. I’m a kid of divorce – we think we’re the reason parents broke up anyways as it is, so guilt comes easy. Depends on how old the kids are, toddler won’t understand but I have made a conscious point of not sighing or rolling my eyes about how tired my kids are making me – when they’re present.
I’ve also had my feelings hurt as a child by my mom’s comments along these lines … I would never engage in a conversation about the hardships of motherhood with a stranger in front of my children. I would make sure they heard the most important things, which is that I adore them, and they are worth more to me than the burden!
I bet most of them agree with you, but it’s not socially acceptable to say so. I also think that those older ladies who gush don’t remember it as hard as it was! Like childbirth, the further away we get the less AWFUL it seems! LOL Any woman who actually remembered every painful detail of a successful delivery would never do it again in a million years! (OK, I may be projecting, but I’m sure you understand.) Nature is kind enough to soften the memory so we focus on the good stuff.
My mother likes to tell me it’s hard, and for a long time I hated it because it felt like she was trying to tell me to quit or that I’d taken on too much or couldn’t do certain things or she didn’t like my kids. Now I understand that she is trying to be empathetic. I think the original posters’ preferred encouragement along the lines of “you can do this,” “the fight is worth it,” etc. are more helpful.
Love, love, love this post! 🙂 Thanks for sharing!
AMEN! You know that used to happen to me too and I always said I wanted to slap the person (really, I wouldn’t have!) but seriously? But now, as my kids are getting older I found myself wanting to say it to another woman in the store with 3 little ones in tow but I stopped myself! I was like, “now I’m that woman that I wanted to slap!” I love your idea of taking hold of those moments, those memories. THANK you for this post. So many moms need it.
Perfectly said! No one ever does ask me at my “real” job if I am happy or enjoying myself or to cherish my day. And it does add pressure at home. Thank you for the word Kairos. Love it! May have to add that one into regular use…
This was such an eloquent entry, and one that really, really resonated. I currently have three children (4, 2, 11 months), and upon spending some time with me, each of my parents (step and biological) indicated that maybe I had enough on my “plate” and should probably NOT have a fourth (even though I don’t feel that my family is complete – if that makes any sense). When I digested what they had said I felt very angry, but couldn’t articulate why. This post helped me to dissect my anger, and sort out my feelings.
I too am approached almost daily by strangers telling me to enjoy every moment. Or if the kids are melting down, they give you a wink, chuckle and say “We’ve all been there!” Really?! Great…thank you. For nothing.
Anyhow, thanks for posting this. It made me feel less guilty about counting down the hours in the day until bedtime, about thoroughly enjoying the time right after the kids fall asleep, and helped remind me of those perfect moments when you really do SEE your kids each day.
I will watch for the essay you write when you are my age…the age of one of those kind, older women you stop you to tell you how fast time goes.
I am smiling at you right now, or at your writing. Namaste, Paula Benson
I thin this may have just changed my life. Thank you. I’m stopping at two, but I agree–go for four! Live the Dream!
Just wondering -who ever said one climbs that high peak ALONE? Honey, it takes a big team and yes, it’s hard work for all, yet it is the journey of a lifetime, exhilerating, exhausting and rewarding. Parenting is NOT easy. You cannot just turn back. It may be your ‘climb’ and yes – sieze the day because those that say this MISSED it and only want you to enjoy what you can, while you can. No question, that while you are in it, it is not sweet to your ears–sorta like “Hey kids, it’s bedtime” is for the kids. So, God and us ‘old’ ladies say, “Hey Mom and Dad, it’s parent time.” Enjoy your day, it is your present. Indeed, time slips through our fingers…I know, my 3 are grown and it’s my birthday!
I really enjoyed this post. I am a mother of 4 children (all within 5 years of each other) and I never ever get the sweet old ladies saying nice things to me. I always get people wanting to start fights with me! No worries I’m tough. The part I like most about this post is when you talk about it being “hard” and people always take that as you being “negative”. I have a 5 year old daughter with Down Syndrome and it is HARD to be her mother. When people ask me about how she’s doing and I tell them I always get the feeling that they are like “wow women you just unload on me and you must hate your life”. No, I don’t hate my life, I’m actually really happy with the way it’s turned out, it just so happens that my daughters life is full of shitty things. If you don’t want to know what happening to her, THEN DON’T ASK. My children are my joy and my daughter is something that words would never be able to describe, but it doesn’t mean that it’s easy.
That Target scene made me laugh and cry at the exact same time. Fantastic, insightful writing. And a message we all need after a long, chronos day.
My grandmother is at a point in her life where she makes these kind of statements. She raised 4 children and at least 3 times as many grandchildren. My grandfather has gone to be with the Lord so life is certainly different. I really have No idea why, but she just seems to be drawn to little children. Sometimes I really hate to admit this but it really embarrass me that we have to once again talk to a young mom and her children. She looks at them like it’s the best thing ever and tells the mom how great they are and then says, you know this passes all to quickly. Some of the moms just look at her like who is this crazy lady and would she just stop talking to us. My grandmother is forgetting a lot these days and her memory is going and that makes me really sad and she just can’t help it. I know she would not like to be thought of as that old lady who says…… but she is just not fully there. So, I take the time to stand with my grandmother and talk with these ladies and their children and let my grandmother say these things. And pray they have the heart to understand to listen even though they don’t want to hear it and neither do I.
when little old ladies say things to me like your grandma, I don’t resent them and I feel their warmth, even though I am also feeling the insanity of the moment. Just like she’s telling us to enjoy the kids, we all have relatives like your grandma who we know mean us well. I guess I am trying to say, don’t be embarrassed–your grandma’s positive vibe being felt and absorbed, and that’s a gift.
Great post – I think my husband would really like it too.
I don’t know how I have not found you and your blog before but funny that two of my friends should post this entry on their FB pages today. My curiosity took me to your site and I am in love with your writing. You put into words what I never have been able to as I am sure happens with so many other mothers. Thank you for sharing. I find that I am also in a state of two different time zones, except I never had a name for them. Before I was laid off from my other full time job there was only time for one time zone and it was always too busy to notice the little things. I thought losing my job meant losing myself but I now know that I found myself….and my little man too. How silly of me to think that I really “knew” him….I only discovered him after I started THIS job~full time. I’m now the mom of two precious little men and I wouldn’t trade this job for anything!
Keep up the beautiful and inspiring writing.
Thank you for your thoughts! So very true.
Wow! Thank God I found you. I was sent here by a friend and I have been catching up. Thanks for your honest perspective!
Thank you – I needed to hear that I wasn’t alone!!
I have to say, I really enjoyed this article. I have no children, nor will I in the near future, as a medical student, but when I do I hope I remember your philosophy and grab as many Kairos moments of every day as I can. All the same, there is something that bothers me about this article
This is not about “Carpe Diem” at all, but rather about “enjoy every moment of your life”. Carpe Diem means “sieze the day”, and is not a mandate to enjoy or cherish every moment of your life. I can totally agree with someone who is tired of being told that she ought to appreciate everything, every day, all the time. But I don’t think it is bad to take all your opportunities and leave as little room for regret as possible. I am young, I have my whole life ahead of me, and sometimes I hesitate before doing something new, scary, or dangerous. I think maybe it won’t be fun, maybe it won’t work out, maybe something unexpected will happen, maybe I should just stay home, or back out, or say no. But then I remember that I have only one life to live, and such an opportunity may never come along again, and the people who love me most want me to follow my dreams, be bold, take the road less traveled, try new things, sometimes even fail spectacularly in order to learn something, to sieze the day. And that’s what Carpe Diem means.
Thank you, all the same, for this beautiful reflection on parenthood and the important moments in life!
Truly lovely and lovely truth. FWIW, this speaks to the dad’s out here who are living the primary care giver life too.
Here’s to reaching the summit and enjoying as much of the journey as possible in Kairos time!
I LOVE THIS BLOG! I am now a grandmother with 8 beautiful grandchildren aged 2 months to 5 yrs. I love to be with them as much as I can, but when I am, it takes me straight back to when I had my own little ones 24/7. While I was glad to be able to stay at home to raise them with my values, those infant/preschooler days were INTENSE. Up toooo early, every day, with too much to do with ebbing patience, & not enough sleep, especially during those Terrible 18mos-to-4yr-old Stage (Terrible 2’s is quite misleading!!). Couldn’t tell the difference between a weekday & the weekend. Anyone who says this isn’t exhausting day after day, month after month, needs to babysit a couple of toddlers by themselves for a weekend. My ongoing wish for all loving parents of preschoolers a good night’s sleep and infinite patience to be able to slog through the days doing the most important job in the world. The years may go fast, but every one of those days can be awfully lonnnnngggg!
Absolutely WONDERFUL! Made me cry. Thank you for putting my feelings in to words so perfectly!
Thank you for your honesty. You are completely right and it’s just what I needed to hear today.
Thank you so much for this. My youngest (2 years) has decided to give up on sleep and I have cried at least 3 times today. Then I read this and cried because it made me happy that someone said it “out loud”. I’m not cherishing today, and that is okay.
THANK YOU! My thoughts exactly.
My daughter, the mother of my two grand children, sent me this to read and I loved it. I am one of those women on the Target line, but one who remembers my oldest son’s diaper leaking out all over my lap and my aunt’s white carpet, my daughter throwing up on my bare feet and my third child unwrapping an entire box of tampex as I talked on the phone – a large box with not one survivor. I am sure the ladies on line remember all of the throw ups and tantrums, they also know when you get to be one of those ladies- if you are very lucky -you will think about the soft haired babies, the almost-grown up teenagers and the hugs you get from your childs child. Nice
All I have to say is, “THANK YOU!”
What a great article! I’m a stay at home mom of 4 children ages 9, 7, 3, & 1.5 years old. You’re so right that it’s not always easy to enjoy every minute. Those who tell you that they did, with their children who are now grown, are big, fat liars! I think you truly remember the “good stuff” not “every moment.” Continue writing these wonderful, from the heart articles. Well done!
Loved this-thank you
Ok, I’ll admit – I’m not a mom. I’m a Dad. Came across this article from a friend’s facebook post and was intrigued. And like others replying I found myself doing the same thing – nodding in agreement, smiling, laughing, crying, and most of all remembering. As a single father of four wonderful children I dearly love I’ve had plenty of those moments where I’ve felt like the best parent in the world (easy to enjoy moments) and others where I felt like I couldn’t parent any worse (no enjoyment there). And doing it alone is truly difficult. It’s difficult to enjoy those moments when there’s not someone to share them with. And it’s even more difficult in those moments when the kids aren’t with me. Being in the midst of the daily battle is hard. So when well meaning people tell me to enjoy these moments as they go by so fast those same feelings you describe come up in me as well. I am learning how to better choose to be in the moment with whatever emotions and thoughts that moment brings so that I can look back with joy and not regret on the time I’ve had with my children. Part of me would love to go back and hold them as little babies again, but I also wouldn’t trade the moments I have with them now that they’re older. Thank you for your honesty in sharing. This is good advice to remember if I ever feel the urge to tell a stranger to “enjoy these moments”.
Here Here! I’ll drink to that! Thank you so much for saying this!
Wonderful Post! Thanks so much – i feel less guilty now for not “loving” being a mummy all the time. i feel guilty every time i yell at my little guy & feel like i must be the worst mother in the world. But i so love those “Kairos” moments – thanks for naming those moments.
Wonderful article! Thank you so much.
-mother of 5 mo old and 3 yr old boys
Thanks! I need that!
Brilliant!! Thanks Glennon.
Thank you for this post. A friend linked it on Facebook just when I needed it today! I am a foster/adoptive stay at home mom to 3 kids 3 and under. I love the big picture, it’s just the small parts of terrible that get to me! Today was one of those, but I think I will pick up your mantra of kairos. Bless you!
Thank you for this post. Well timed for me.
Thank you so much for articulating exactly how I feel each day so beautifully. I am going to share this with my parents – who are my “old ladies at Target.” They mean well and want me to enjoy every “precious moment” – which just adds to my daily guilt. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are an amazing writer and champion for all us moms! I love your blog! 🙂
I just try to make sure Chronos time never blinds me from Kairos time, but more importantly I can only try to “notice” God’s time when I “seize the moment”. I think and feel and believe that I can not walk around with a dumb smile on my face pretending that all is happy and wonderful, but I can keep an attitude of gratitude through the toughest of times. Carpe Diem is in my useless opinion is just another way to say remember to be thankful through all that is difficult. All loving and hard working moms need a vacation from motherhood once in a while!!
[…] What “Carpe Diem” Really Means Posted on January 6, 2012 I posted this on another person’s blog in response to her post. Here’s a snippet of her post. You can read the full post here […]
It’s like this post was written for me. I sit here with tears in my eyes, as I type this. Being a mother (to twins) is by far the HARDEST job I’ve ever done. It’s also the most REWARDING. I wouldn’t trade my life of craziness for anything in the entire WORLD, though. Thank you for writing this. It’s getting bookmarked so I may come back to it again and again. 🙂
http://bestdressedinthenest.tumblr.com/
http://www.etsy.com/shop/RobynsNestBoutique
So beyond the most favorite thing I’ve read in a very long time. Stunning. Please PLEASE keep writing. And sharing.
Hi!
My friend Leah posted this on facebook, and I also blog, and I enjoyed your writing very much. When my 2 daughters were little, they were just 2 years apart, I wish I had thought in times of your Kairos(sp). I did plenty of things I enjoyed and they enjoyed with them, and my husband, but there was always a harried feeling lingering in the back of my head.
Fast forward. 16 and 14. I just blogged “Teenagers, not sure about this phase”. And what I realized at the end of why I thought I didn’t like the phase was more to do with my NOT being needed. I know that is so hard to imagine when you are in the middle of it. REally, I do get that.
And, I have an 18 month old boy that entered our lives at age 42 (me) and 45 (my husband), and it is different. I do drink in the moments, as corny as that sounds, I lay on the floor with him, I don’t care about dishes or laundry, unless someone runs out of either, I am a totally nut with this little boy. I had been back to work for 10 years, and have returned home to raise Daniel. I don’t want to ever minimize anyone’s experiences, but I feel as if I am on vacation every day. Why? Maybe because I have teen girls screeching from the house. (they really aren’t THAT bad, I tell myself).
I had a woman in front of me in the grocery line say to me after Daniel was repeatedly saying MOMMa Momma, Momma, (hi like to say it), you must REALLY love listening to that ALL DAY!? and I responded with a smile, I absolutely do.
He was our final attempt at another, I had made peace with God if it didn’t work out, it was okay, and guess what, HES HERE, and I am glad.
Keep blogging! You are a wonderful writer!!!
Julie Robbins
This should be required reading for every human being out there. And they should post it at the check out lines at grocery stores and Targets. And it should be widely distributed — by all of us parents, to our other parent friends – who have ever thought we weren’t doing “it” right. By the way, the kid peeing in the corner comment — priceless.
Carpe diem isn’t about enjoyment, it’s about appreciation, first and foremost, and from that deep appreciation much more enjoyment will flow.
It’s about having more and more of what you call “Kairos” moments each day. That’s carpe diem.
But you’re young. And young people aren’t supposed to have a lot of perspective and be able yet to truly appreciate what they have. That’s just the way we’re built are as human beings. We’re built very myopically, with a lot of blind spots. That’s just how we come equipped into this world.
In order for any of us to truly appreciate what we have we first have to lose things, people especially. We have to have our hearts broken and wrung, we have to know that tomorrow is not a sure thing, that our own health is not certain, that the health of those we love is not certain, that accidents and tragedies do happen and can happen at any time on any day, even a bright blue sunny day. Otherwise, we will tend to live blindly and not really get how lucky we are and how good we have it.
Frankly, we’ll come across as a little spoiled.
The other route we have to learning how to better appreciate what we have is to develop a genuine spiritual practice that encourages us everyday to realize what we have and realize how quickly it can all change (for the worse) and be taken from us. This can be mediation first thing in the morning, reading something of substance, journalling and blogging, et cetera. But it needs to be some sort of spiritual practice that allows us to get perspective, to come closer to the bigger questions and issues in life, to get down to the “heart of the matter”—to what really matters in life. It needs to be a practice that encourages us to begin with the end in mind, to begin with our own and others’ fragility and mortality in mind. That’s what “carpe diem” is all about—
GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying :
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying
This same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying. That’s the essence of carpe diem, or “seize the day.” Not living in denial. Not choosing the path of least resistance—meaning the path that doesn’t trigger our insecurities and fears.
Yet carpe diem—appreciating what we have—is also completely contrary to how we’re built and how we’re hard-wired. We’re never satisfied. We always want more, want newer, want better. But more importantly we live and love blindly, myopically, as if death and loss are far away and far off things that will never touch or at least aren’t suppose to touch us now. But I guarantee if they’re not touching you today or tomorrow, they’ll be touching someone else in a way that you don’t want to imagine and with a pain you cannot begin to comprehend.
This world is heartbreaking, yes. It’s beautiful and brute-iful. You have that right in your lovely “Meet Glennon” essay. And, agreed, it would be great to be able to go through this life armored up against the pain and tragedy inherent in this world. And people still try. They still go for armor. And the ultimate armor is our minds, how we use our own thinking to help us deny the pain in this world and anesthetize us to it—how we invent stories and reasons why we don’t have to get perspective, why we don’t have to think about death or tragedy. The human mind is a never-ending source of wonderment when it comes to inventing rationalizations (rational lies) that will support it in not having to face reality or deal with painful truths.
My suspicion, Glennon, is that you don’t like what those people are saying to you not because it’s not true, but because it is true and you recognize that, but you would prefer not to have to deal with the consequences of admitting that life and health are fleeting. You don’t want to face the pain of thinking about what these strangers’ words (including my own) really mean. You don’t want to have to feel those feelings right now—what it might mean to permanently lose someone you love or to see your children grown and gone and this chapter of your life closed. You don’t want to have to feel that sorrow and process those intense emotions.
But who does?
But life is always in the right and always gets the last word. We’re going to have to face certain brutal truths sooner or later, so why procrastinate about it?
Especially when doing so sooner rather than later is what will likely allow us to live better, more deeply, more humanely, more lovingly, less selfishly, less blindly, with eyes and heart more rather than less open.
The tag line to your blog is “Stepping Back, Slowing Down, and Focusing Up.” That might be very apropos here in reference to what you wrote. A great idea might be to rewrite the post, and revisit the subject, but this time from a different perspective. Visit a hospice ward, think about what it’s like to be 40-years old and married and in love (not necessarily a contradiction in terms, lol) and struggling with infertility; think about what it would be like to be a parent who has lost a child; go to a nearby children’s hospital or Ronald McDonald house. In other words, play devil’s advocate—or, really God’s advocate—with your own thoughts and what you wrote here today.
Because as unpleasant and even horrifying as those sorts of things are to think about, it’s thinking about them that may well allow you to really appreciate the good fortune you have. That’s what these strangers are suggesting to you. because if it’s not happening to you, then it’s happening to someone else in the world—someone else is losing a child, losing a spouse, losing a pregnancy, losing their family, finding out they have cancer, et cetera.
There but for the grace of God go you and I.
That’s the essence of “carpe diem”—being truly grateful and deeply appreciative—Tony Robbins Personal Power type gratefulness; “great news the cancer is in remission” type joy and appreciativeness, the plane isn’t going to crash today gratefulness.
So why take the easy path and be cynical about “carpe diem”? Why not question yourself and your own thinking and see if there’s something you might not be able to learn from these likely well-meaning strangers and elderly folk. Why argue for what perhaps may be a fairly significant blind spot in your own thinking and your approach to life.
As the poet Naomi Shihab Nye writes:
“Before you can know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.”
It may be the same for appreciating what we have.
That’s what all this carpe diem “live like you’re dying” stuff is really all about . . . about not actually having to lose things and people, but getting real with ourselves and really thinking about certain things ahead of time and while there’s still time. How would you feel tomorrow morning if you got up and something in your life had suddenly changed for the worse—your health, your husband’s health, the health of one of your children? How would you feel? That’s the essence of what these people are saying to you—carpe, carpe diem, Glennon, don’t wait till it actually happens, don’t just enjoy what you have, be profoundly heartbreakingly earth-shatteringly grateful for it, as you’ll likely wish you would were to actually lose someone.
Hi John,
Thank you for your beautifully written comment.
I actually do know exactly how I’d react if my health suddenly changed. I suffer from a chronic, debilitating disease – Lyme – that I was diagnosed with three years ago. My disease will never go away, John. It causes great hardship for my whole family.
In response to my diagnosis, I decided to live harder and bigger and more beautifully. I started this blog, because I often couldn’t leave my house, or even my room. So I needed to find a way to love the world from my bed. And I found a way. Through this blog I have experienced the Great Kindness.
You should read more than one post, John, if you’d like to get to know me. I think you might like me.
Love, G
Ah, you are very, very sweet, G. Thanks for the love and the kind words about my rather long response.
And I’m sorry to hear that you have Lyme disease. Where do things stand for you with it? I always thought the disease was fairly well treatable so long as it wasn’t diagnosed too late. Is this not the case for you?
And, G, I did read more than one of your posts. I read this one and your introductory “Meet Glennon” essay. And, as I said in my original response, I thought your Meet Glennon essay was fantastic and lovely; you sounded like a woman with some real wisdom and perspective.
But I really think you really missed the boat with this essay (“Don’t carpe Diem”).
And I stand by everything I said….somewhere down the road, after you’ve tragically lost a few people who are near and dear to you, and or after you or your spouse has had a cancer scare or heart attack or stroke–a health scare of that magnitude, of a 7.2 or greater on the Richter scale of life–something where the outcome may acyually be death–you’re not going to sweat such small stuff like you’re doing in this post. . . . Bottom line is the well-meaning people making a little chitchat and advising you to appreciate more often what you have are right, unless you think you’re as grateful and appreciative as you can be. Otherwise, you might want to really consider the possibility that they’re right and you’re wrong, that they’re seeing things more clearly than you, but that you *can* see things just as clearly if you slow down, step back, and focus up. (And 12 minutes between my posting what I wrote, and you posting your response, wasn’t near enough time to really think about what I wrote, btw.) Rewrite the post after you’ve really reflected on the possibility of something seriously bad happening to you or your loved ones. That sort of forethought and reflection changes everything. There’s a better and more appreciative post to be written than the one you wrote, one more in keeping with the wisdom and perspective and insight you showed in your “Meet Glennon” post.
I did meet Glennon in that post, and I thought she was really uber-cool and smart. And I think there’s a Meet Glennon version of this post to be written also. And it’s probably a worthwhile thing to do, because writing such as that helps focus us and true our values and our thinking. As Gibran said, “When I was writing “The Prophet,’ ‘The Prophet’ was writing me.” What we write when we write is important, it’s an act of self-definition and self-creation, it can become a very powerful self-fulfilling prophecy.
Love and hugs, G,
John
Ps. Are there any posts in particular that you would recommend that I read or that you really like?
Wow, talk about “mansplaining” (look it up).
Glennon, this post resonated with me in ways that I can’t even begin to describe. Thank you for writing it.
John,
I’m just curious: are you a writer? Your style and references seem to indicate that you might be. You have quite a way with words, either way. I wonder, though, is that why you feel so compelled to tell Glennon how she should be writing? How she should be responding to the world?
To be honest, I don’t understand the purpose of your comments. The kind words and praise interspersed with condescension and criticism (the 12-minute snark?) come across as contradictory, and the overall tone of the comments is not one of love or encouragement, but rather self-promotion. It sounds as though you have been through many challenges, and you believe yourself to be a better person because of it. While that may be true, I might humbly suggest that another person’s brave, humble blog isn’t necessarily the best place to announce it.
Even if your purpose is encouragement, it fell short of the mark. The overarching message that I (and many others) got from Glennon’s post was that we should free ourselves from the guilt of never being good enough or grateful enough. If we can do that, we will be better at recognizing and enjoying the kairos moments when they appear. However, your command that we immerse ourselves in sadness in order to be more grateful only creates more guilt and shame.
We all have our mountains to climb. They won’t all look the same. If you were a longtime reader of Momastery, you would know that Glennon is no stranger to heartache herself. But belittling one person’s struggle because it’s not of such a “deadly magnitude” helps no one. There is no prize in life for having surviving the hardest challenge. It is important to be kind, and gentle, for everyone is fighting their own battle. The better thing to do, is to help each other survive.
The community that Glennon has created at Momastery is about love and family. Here, we believe that “we belong to each other.” Therefore, we mourn with each other’s suffering, and rejoice with each other’s joys. We don’t rank, evaluate, or judge another’s experience. We just hold hands. And when another falls apart under the stress of day-to-day life, we are there to say, “I got you, sister. Lemme go wrangle that peeing toddler for you.” We won’t condemn her for falling apart over an exploded Pyrex dish. We just help pick up the pieces.
It’s hard to make a suggestion for which posts to read to get a fuller picture of who our fearless leader is. My favorites are “A Mountain I’m Willing to Die On” and “On Faith.” They’ll likely appear in the “best of” series that she began today, if you’re interested in sticking around. And you’re more than welcome to stick around, because “everybody’s in, baby.”
Glennon has made a commitment to honesty and vulnerability in the hopes of bringing encouragement and strength to others. She shares her journey – the good, the bad, the ugly and the mundane – because she believes that she has a Message that someone needs to hear. Perhaps you’re right; maybe twenty years down the road she will write something from a different perspective that is strikingly different. But for today, she shared the message she had. It was brave and good and necessary.
Thanks for stopping by, John.
.love.
Hello Rachel,
Thank you for the response. You were actually quite kind to me (so thank you for that), even though I really do think that perhaps you are misjudging me and that you may have misjudged what I said.
You ask me whether I’m a writer, Rachel. I’m a thinker first. I’m trying to lead a very eyes-wide open and examined life; and writing is just a natural extension and expression of that. I use (far) too many adjectives to be a writer, lol 🙂
And was I “compelled” to respond? Maybe. I just saw something that to my mind was clearly fallacious, that clearly missed the mark, and I stopped and took the time to say why I thought that Glennon had missed the mark with her post. (Much like I suppose you did with your response to me; you though I missed the mark and felt compelled to tell me so. Fair enough.) What I am, whatever modicum of wisdom I might have, is meant for all, it’s meant to be shared (that whole not hiding one’s candle—whatever light or truth or insight one might have—beneath a bushel or basket).
You wrote that you didn’t understand the purpose of my comments. I thought I have been nothing if not abundantly clear on why I wrote what I wrote here. So let me ask you, Rachel, have you taken any serious heart-wrenching tragic losses in life? Have you lost a parent, child, spouse, partner, in an up close and personal way? And if so, did you ever felt any regret over what you said or didn’t say but would have loved to say? Did you ever wished for more time, for one more hour with them?
Point blank: That’s why I wrote what I wrote.
Carpe diem is about deeply realizing that those hours we are going to wish for—beg for, crave, grieve for, plead for, agonize for, long for, cry ourselves to sleep over—are there for us right now with the people we love!
Really read that. Please.
Because that’s the essence of “carpe diem”—appreciation. Not just enjoyment, but appreciation even more than enjoyment; because appreciation is what will allow us to better and more truly enjoy those we love. This same flower that smiles today, tomorrow *will* be dying. WILL. It’s inevitable.
And the sooner we start wrapping our reality-denying little minds around this the better—the less regret and sorrow and suffering we will feel and have to deal with when these beautiful flowers around us—these people we claim to love—die, get cancer, have a heart attack, get Alzheimer’s, up and leave us, etc—because we will not be burdened with the double-grief and double-sorrow of regret, of having taken them and our time with them for granted, having sweated the small stuff, having lost perspective, having not loved and appreciated them passionately and deeply enough.
That’s the point. That’s the message. On our death bed we’re going to wish for more Kairos moments. Guess what, we have them now; we have the choice of seeing things in a “Kairos” way even when we’re up to our elbows in poopy diapers, clogged toilets (how many of those I have had to unclog in the past 6 months!!), laundry (yes, I do laundry), dishes (ditto). We can see things in a “Kairos” way even when we’re in Target and the kids are acting up and running around and some sweet little old well meaning lady says to us, “Enjoy what you have; it all goes so fast.”
It all goes so fast, Rachel. This same flower that smiles today, or that is pissing you off or has you on your last nerves today, tomorrow WILL be dying.
And if that’s not “encouraging” enough to get people to pause . . . and reflect . . . and rethink their priorities a bit, then ____ (fill in the blank with whatever hyperbole would be required to get a person to stop in their tracks and cause them to actually consider the possibility).
Kindest regards and love to you,
John
(Ps. My comment, Rachel, about “12 minutes” wasn’t “snark”—it really wasn’t. It was a simple fact. It took me 7 minutes to re-read what I wrote (and spot three or four more typos! lol). And if I had never read my response before, it would honestly take me more time to actually digest it and really think about it. Reacting is easy. Anyone can just react. But we’re better than that. I didn’t read Glennon’s “Don’t Carpe” essay just once and then dash something off. I re-read her essay a couple of time before writing to make sure I wasn’t misreading her or missing her point. (Of course, as has been pointed out, I should have read more of her posts, which I have since done when I have had a bit of free time. But it hasn’t changed anything; I would still write the same basic response.) And then I re-read and referred back to her essay several more times in the course of responding. I didn’t take lightly what I was saying. So, frankly, honestly, “keepin’ it real,” as the kids say, 12 minutes from my posting that comment to anyone responding was simply not enough time to really think about it, even in our hyperactive/twitter/attention-deficit/monkey-minded/multi-tasking/smart-phone culture.)
John,
I see. You have a Message, too. I can tell from your comments on this post that you have been through significant trials and tribulations. Clearly, they have given you a perspective that has improved your life, and you want to share that with others. That is commendable.
However, I don’t think that just because Glennon’s Message is different, that it is a fallacy. It is real and true for her in this moment, and it resonates with many others who needed it. It was brave and honest, and reflected her experience. That’s one of the beautiful things about this community – everyone is allowed to have their own reality, their own personal experience. We try very hard to choose loving over judging. Your wisdom is undoubtedly helpful to some, but it is a dangerous dance with pride to tout it as the Truth. Your exhortation to appreciate beautiful flowers before they wither and die may ring hollow to someone who’s never had a flower at all. Your foreboding message about loss, while intended to induce appreciation and fulfillment, may have the opposite effect on someone who struggles to choose to continue living each day. And as someone who has faced a tragic loss, I believe that even had I cherished Every Single Moment, I still would have agonized for more. That is the nature of loss.
Nonetheless, I don’t think you should withhold your Message. I don’t believe anyone should hide under a bushel! Your perspective is just as valuable as anyone else’s. In this community, we strive to help each other in our journeys through life. I just encourage you to consider that maybe, just maybe, both Carpe Diem and Don’t Carpe Diem have a place.
.love.
Read the previous day’s post. Gives you an idea that Glennon knows exactly what she has, what it’s worth and how she would feel if it were lost. She is a deep thinker, a deep lover of all and appreciates all she has been given. She’s grateful to the world and her god. She’s pure magic. And a realist. There are many, many people thankful beyond words for her honest, thought-provoking writing. Read more, John, I bet you’ll come to love her, too.
Maybe. I did just read the previous day’s post, but this post (“Don’t Carpe Diem”) undercuts it; it’s as if everything she was pondering and reflecting on in the previous post was almost completely bracketed and excluded from this current post.
The goal is have perspective more and more; in my opinion she didn’t have a lot of perspective in this post; it was more of a rant. Maybe she was tired, maybe she was exhausted, maybe she was overwhelemd; I don’t know. All I have to go by are the words she’s written. And they lack perspective. I’m about 98.3% sure that she’ll have a much different take on what she wrote at some point in the future, and she’ll have it sooner rather than later. 🙂
And love her? I already do and have been loving her, that’s why I’ve written what I’ve written here. It was an act of love to take the time I did to write what I wrote and put it out there, knowing it wasn’t going to be popular or liked or, ahem, even “appreciated” 🙂
And, Jennifer, if you were to read some of my stuff, you might come to love me as much as you love Glennon. That, or I might really tick you off and drive you crazy! 🙂
John,
I must admit, you have me thinking. So much so that I have re-read your comments and glennon’s post several times. I wonder if you have re-read “Don’t Carpe Diem”? If not, I think you should. I think you missed the point of the whole second half of the essay. The moments of kairos that Glennon speaks of are exactly the appreciation you suggest she is missing. Those moments when she (we all, as exhausted, harried mothers) can step back and really look at and take in our children are sometimes few and far between, sometimes hard to see, but when they happen, are oh-so-wonderful. I think Glennon is encouraging us all to recognize those moments, appreciate them and let go of the guilt we all carry for not being “enough”. As a mom in the thick of it with two littles, I fully relate and have started recognizing those kairos moments…of which I’ve had many in the last few days. Glennon’s essay *has* increased my appreciation.
With respect, I’m tempted to say that you were so eager to discredit her, that you didn’t fully understand what she was saying. She does appreciate those kairos moments fully, but recognizes it’s not possible to appreciate and love every moment of every day. Because, well, there are dirty dishes in the sink and laundry that needs to be folded, there is projectile vomit, there is biting and hitting, there are poopy diapers (and underwear and, if you’re really lucky, little hands that have been *in* the poop….) Tell me, how do you appreciate THOSE moments??? We exhausted, stressed mommies need to let go, forget those, forgive if we yelled or were harsh and focus on the kairos.
Are you a dad, John?
You asked what other essays of Glennon’s you shuold read. Some of my favs, off the top of my head are: unwind, a mountain I’m willing to die on, my maria, our best, and/both. That’s just a few, I can’t think because I have a little that needs me…..
Peace.
Thank you, Jennifer, for a very kind and thoughtful reply. And if some of what I’ve written has got you really thinking, then that’s all I can ask; to me that’s the most respectful way of communicating, thinking about what each other has to say, and thinking about what we really want to say to another and why. So thank you for that kindness and respect.
First, I can assure that I was not eager to “discredit” Glennon. It was nothing personal. I was simply responding to what she had written, and all I was working off was that post and her “Meet Glennon” intro essay. And I can assure you, that having once been a person who got annoyed by the little things and lost perspective fairly easily and got caught up too much in the daily grind, but now having gone through enough losses, it changes everything! It gives—or it can give–a person perspective. Jen, I’ve watched my mom whither away and die over the course of 10 months from metastatic melanoma. She lived in town near me; and my sibs lived far enough away, that I was the one who went to appt after appt, held my mom, talked with her, listened to her, looked out for her, advised her as best as I could. I was the one who during the last week or so of her life, stayed up well into the wee hours of the morning, sat beside her bed, comforting her when she was restless and agitated and in pain (wracked with pain), telling her I loved her and thanking her for being my mommy, and doing her best for me. And I was there holding her hand when she died, when she let out her last breath.
And really staying present through something like that, really extending yourself and being there for the other person, for a person who is dying, changes you.
And am I a dad? I was for a couple of years. To a woman, a young widow, who when I met her was the most fascinating woman I had ever met. Perhaps in certain ways she was a bit like Glennon (but Glennon has made different and more truly loving and noble choices). She was deep and thoughtful and passionate and she said she had been waiting all her life for someone like me. She had three children. And, it turns out, she also has something called Borderline Personality Disorder. So for two years I lived with this woman, was a father to her children, loved them as my own; and during that time she ran out on me and back to her home area (700 miles away) three times (at least three times), and she would take the kids and cut me off completely, no contact with them, and she would blame me for her unhappiness and boredom, and say that’s why she left. And I loved her and her children as best as I could. I changed poopy diapers, unlogged toilets, washed poopy underwear. I loved her more than I’ve ever loved another human being, let her in more deeply than anyone else. And, poof, I came home one night, and she was gone, leaving most of her stuff in my house and my garage, telling me she didn’t want to go to CA for the holidays and visit my family; and so this was her way of dealing with it: kissing me goodbye before I left for work, and then packing up some suitcases, loading the kids in the car, and moving 700 miles away back home, calling me a week later, telling me how much she missed me, that doing this hurt more than burying her husband, asking me if I still loved her and would take her back and marry her (I said of course I would); and then only having her turn on a dime, start blaming me for her unhappiness and ultimately cut me off.
So have I been a dad? Yes. I tried like heck to be a dad.
And did I appreciate it? Yes. Did I carpe diem? Yes. As best as I could. Which is why I have so little regret now. I did the best I could—the best I could! And I knew what she was capable of, I knew how quickly she can freak out and run and cut me off and treat me like I’m disposable. I was always on death row in that relationship. But—but—I never backed down; I never used that as an excuse for not doing my best and trying to love her as best as I could (we had many really good and great days!), and loving her children as my own. And I miss those kids and I miss her. I miss the shit out of all of them.
And so what I’m trying to say—and what these older and “wiser” people are saying, I think—is that it all goes by so fast, in the blink of an eye; and that really trying to appreciate what you have while you have it, and treating those people who are important to you as best as you can for as long as you have them, is the only thing that really makes sense anymore. In the final analysis, that’s what makes sense. Not losing perspective (which begs the questions, did the person really ever have it?) and bitching about old people telling you to carpe diem and not just enjoy, but be achingly grateful for what you have—for your children, your spouse, you health, that you have a roof over your head. Bitching about them, complaining about them, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. What’s going to matter to you as you’re on your deathbed? Beginning with the end in mind. That’s what gives us clarity. Developing some sort of tangible spiritual practice that centers us first thing in the morning is a great way set our heart and mind on the right path for the day. But that someone stood up for themselves against well-meaning people who are advising them to really appreciate what they have?—that doesn’t make a lot of sense. It doesn’t cut the mustard. I doesn’t pass the “deathbed” or “as I lay dying, will this really matter to me?” test.
As I wrote in my original response: Carpe diem is about having more and more of those “Kairos” moments every day and being niggled and annoyed less every day by poopy diapers and little old ladies telling you to enjoy your kids while they’re young.
Thank you again, Jennifer, for your very kind and respectful response.
Peace to you as well,
John
I actually think John has responded in the spirit of disagreeing respectfully here, which what is asked by Glennon’s wonderful blog. He seems thoughtful to me, and reflective, and I think that if he sticks around, he probably will love Glennon and she him. I can also understand the long-standing Monkees being very protective of Glennon and reacting defensively for her as this post has taken a life of its own and brought so many new readers (myself included, but I love her already and am going to start calling myself a Monkee), and not all of these newbies yet get the vibe that she has fostered overall, that we can be honest and tell our truth, and that we will not be judged harshly for it. I don’t really feel that John has been harsh, but other commenters have been less than kind, especially the ones saying they feel like G’s children deserve a better mother. Wow, I don’t even know what to say about that kind of reaction to the not-so-radical statement that parenting is hard, and sometimes not really enjoyable.
I think Glennon is an inspired writer, with so much wit and wisdom and overall positivity. That doesn’t mean that she can’t get annoyed at cliches from strangers. That doesn’t mean she can’t have a bad day or write a post that she will reflect upon and utterly change her tune later. She actually does this very thing on at least one place on her blog. (I spent hours reading her blog yesterday.) I think John also probably has some wisdom, even if on this matter he disagrees. I don’t think it has to be a matter of picking sides. And/Both.
For me, Glennon’s essay resonated, especially her analogy of parenthood being like climbing a mountain. We knew it was going to be tough. I think that in those moments when it is toughest, we have to focus all of our energy on just getting through that arduous part of the mountain, sometimes we simply don’t have time to enjoy the climb, because it is taking all that we have to just get to the next moment. But when the path evens out, and the challenge is not so extreme, we can stop and take in the majestic beauty that is the climb, and the process of climbing, and that tough stuff will make the beauty that much more beautiful. There will be chaos, there will be lulls, and there will be moments of magic. Glennon is simply saying that we don’t have to feel guilty about having to power through the rough patches sometimes, about not enjoying, literally, every moment. We can simultaneously be annoyed by our children and love our children with all of our hearts.
My son has some rough stuff. Yesterday he got another gushing nosebleed, and we fly into instant chaos mode when that happens. I am not thinking of anything but getting him to calm down and stop panicking, getting his nose to stop bleeding, wondering if this is going to be a 5 minute one or a 20 minute one. I do not actually enjoy these moments of parenthood. I power through them. That doesn’t make me a bad mom, that makes me human.
Thank you Carrie very much for your very kind comments. I think you have a very sound read of the situation and I think you are seeing both sides/perspectives very fairly and accurately. So thank you for that; I definitely appreciate it.
And I already do love Glennon, and I get the sense that she’s okay with me.
And I’m sorry to hear, Carrie, about your son’s nosebleeds. My ex-‘s 4-yr old boy got (gets?) nosebleeds and we–well me, I taught my ex- just to remain very calm and nonchalant and not play into his panic because her son was going to pick up cues from her and model his reaction after hers, so if she could just remain calm and composed and model that for him, the situation wouldn’t escalate. So my suggestion, if I may make one, is if you can stay calm and self-soothe and treat his nosebleed like it’s not that big of a deal, then he’ll pick up on that (eventually; it may take a few times, especially if he’s used to situation becoming very emotional and charged) and he’ll start imitating your calm.
Just a thought, Carrie.
Thank you again for your very kind and fair comments.
John
oh john, dear john
yes? oh bdog, dear bdog
John, Glennon and Jennifer gave very gracious replies to your gently worded preachiness. This is a good opportunity for me to remember that there’s my business, your business and God’s business, and I need to be paying attention to my business, and mine alone.
Hugs to you, Glennon.
“preachiness”? Your choice of that word shows your bias. Preachy would not be a word that I would use to describe what I wrote, unless I was fishing for some irrational way of trying to demean it and dismiss it. What I wrote was brilliant, insightful, penetrating, and very very wise and discerning.
And for someone who proclaims she needs to be paying attention to her business and her business alone (I believe that’s called apathy, yes?), I didn’t want you to think that it went unnoticed that you were always paying attention to my business.
Hugs to me and hugs to you, Cherilyn 🙂
John, you should consider writing your copious thoughts “brilliant, insightful, penetrating, and very very wise and discerning” as they may be to you in your own blog … Then you could be the star of your own show without having to tear down another person’s work in order to pontificate for your own ego boost and self congratulation. Sure, you write concisely and have plenty of time on your hands to write lengthy diatribes. Why not let your voice be heard by people who seek it out? Perhaps you can start it up after your broken arm heals from patting yourself on the back.
This was a fantastic blog entry. Beating up on the author because you missed the message is petty. Life is hard. Parenting is hard. Seeing the good through the tough is hard. Rising above is hard (clearly, because my hackles got raised). Sometimes it’s hard to hear people whose intentions are good because you are in it up to your ears and some sickeningly sweet remark about how ‘life is precious’ is totally annoying and feels patronizing.
Clearly she gets it. Clearly she appreciates her lot in life. Agree or disagree but berating epistles are uncalled for (save this one of course haha) in my opinion.
Feel better? Did it make you feel better, Annie, to vent and berate me and try to demean and diminish what I wrote? Did you think you were clever with your “heal up you broken arm” remark? Did you pat yourself on the back for that one? And if so, how is your arm? 🙂
“Beating up on the author because you missed the message is petty.” I agree completely. So why did you do it to me?
And I didn’t miss the message in what Glennon wrote; not at all. And I didn’t “beat up” on Glennon. Go reread my original post and my response to her response; and if you see me “beating her up,” I guarantee you that those are your projections. I actually like Glennon; I am very fond of what I know of her from the three posts from her that I have read. I think she’s smart and kind and has a good heart; and that’s a darn rare combination.
But I also know that she missed the message . . . in what others are saying to her about carpe diem; as well as in what I wrote.
As are you, Annie.
“Sometimes it’s hard to hear people whose intentions are good because you are in it up to your ears and some sickeningly sweet remark about how ‘life is precious’ is totally annoying and feels patronizing.” Yes, and if you are like most people, then it’s probably hard for you to hear many things, because tone matters more than content, and how you feel about something is never questioned but always acted out on. It’s the ultimate self-justification. If something someone says feels patronizing, then it must in fact be patronizing. If something feels a certain way, then it must be true, simply because you feel it is. And you never slow down long enough to doubt yourself or question yourself and the accuracy of the intel your feelings are giving you’ instead you just blindly trust them and act out on them.
In fact it may be the case that for you the tone is the content. It is for many people. And if you don’t like the tone, then you self-righteously do what you did to me–lash out and try to tear me down. Or if you don’t like the content—if it doesn’t feel right; if it feel patronizing—then you find fault with the tone as well, and go to town trying to tear that down in order to make yourself feel better. It’s called “amygdala hijacking.”
Again, when you’ve lost some people, suffered some real devastation and tragedy in your life, you’ll look at what I’ve written differently, because you’ll likely be more open and less defensive. That’s one of the things that taking some real losses in life–losing a partner, losing children, losing your parents, watching people you love die and whither away from cancer, watching people kill themselves with their addictions–does: it softens you, it puts things in perspective.
Your rant to me doesn’t come across as having any real perspective, Annie; there’s no real content to it; it doesn’t read like the wisdom of a woman who has seen some serious stuff in her life, who has been through some serious stuff, who has lost people, who has held someone’s hand as they were dying, who has watched her mom or dad whither away from cancer, changed their bedpan, sponge-bathed their tumored back, has had to helplessly watch as someone she loved self-destructed and killed him- or herself through drug or alcohol. When you’ve tasted some of that stuff in life, then we should talk. You can click on my name; it will take you to one of my blogs—one of my blogs where I’m the star of my own show. 🙂
Kindest regards, Annie,
John
Glennon, forgive me ..I had no intention of making this about myself..A multitude of replies made me feel protective.
Thank you for your blog it was lovely and humorous and I agree with your sentiment. Regardless of people’s personal experiences no one is truly limited by not having gone through what another has suffered or championed. We all experience things from our own perspective and appreciate or not as we see fit. It’s nice to have people looking out with an unsolicited kind suggestion but people aren’t always looking for someone else to tell them what they are or are not missing. It sounds like you have a full life – thank you again for sharing it through such fun writing. You are certainly touching people with your voice.
John, you remind me of Anthony Hopkin’s character in Silence of the Lambs. He was well spoken, highly intelligent, but CRAZY! Wow, good reading though.
[…] on Facebook, a friend of the family posted this link to one such blog. It was intended for mom’s wondering “where’s all the joy that’s supposed to […]
As the mom who sat in her car for a (pre-allotted) two minute cry after grocery shopping today out of sheer and utter disappointment for losing my temper at my son (and going into full meltdown,) and who IS within weeks of birthing Second Son and wondering how badly I’m going to screw up THAT one if I can’t manage to not emotionally decimate the sweet-tempered and brilliant (though occasionally dim) one that I have…well, needless to say…there are some moments I’d rather not carpe, but instead chuck to the four corners of the earth because I don’t want to cherish how I, myself behaved.
(Oh, and the woman down below who tells you not to become an author? Ignore her.)
Kae–too true. there are moments I’d like to forget because I wasn’t my best.
good luck with the new addition!
I loved your blog. The funny thing is I just had my own experience with this but from the other side. I was shopping the other day alone and there was a young mother with her three little ones in tow. They were running like crazy throughout the store. Just being kids. They were 2, 4 and 6 . That was me about 12 years ago. I said to this mom to enjoy them while they are young because one day they will be teenagers and you will have many bigger problems to deal with. I have three teens now, one is dealing with depression and drugs. I wish I could have those days back when my biggest problem was them misbehaving in a store. I look at their innocence and think that if I could go back to the time when he was 5 I might be able to save him from all of this trouble today .
This is absolutely beautiful! Made me cry
LOVE LOVE LOVE this. I have often thought this but never put it into words. A real girlfriend will sit and laugh with you about your child peeing in the corner ( add wine of course… a “friend” to weed out is one who asked why you would have 4. What a dumb question. Because that cray little window of time is sooo small in a lifetime of enjoyment with child. GO for 4!! You sound like a mom any kid would love to have!! 🙂
Your blog made me laugh, cry, smile and nod with every word. I have four boys 7, 5, 3 and 1 and I know how much we all need those special moments every day. I figure as long as I hug, kiss and tell my boys I love them, teach them one thing and make them laugh every day we will all look back and agree life was pretty darn good. Many days I may yell or cry a lot more than I laugh but the hugs, kisses and words of love are always present. I don’t know if it is because I have all boys but most elderly people tell me I have my hands full but I probably have a lot of fun! I usually tell them they are exactly right. I try to remember all the fun and not the other stuff.
Jen, you and I are living parallel lives. Four boys, same ages, same comments from random strangers. This blog spoke to me as well. It’s fun, and busy, and full of all kinds of “adventure.” My goals: I strive for keeping my kiddos safe (and out of the emergency room), making sure they know I love them, teaching them to be thoughtful and responsible, helping them rise to their own high expectations, and – if I have enough energy after all that – trying to notice some aspect of greatness amongst the chaos that we experience every day. That’s a VERY hard day. Keep up the great work, momma.
I also silently want to kick the people in the knees who feel it is their job to help me feel better about not having a girl. Do you get that too? I love my family the way it is. God gave me four beautiful, healthy boys, and I don’t need reassurance that He did the right thing.
Thank you for speaking truth over all of us mothers!!
This truly was a great post, mostly because it was honest, very honest. I have four children who I love dearly, but to be honest, it is not easy. Some days are easier than others, and then there are those days when I feel like walking out my front door to go and have some “me” time. Lets face it though, I can’t just walk out, even if my husband is there, so I stay and face what God has given me to deal with that day. I am blessed with a great family, a job I love, and the fact that life is not perfect all the time.
thank you. thank you for taking the words out of my heart and putting them somewhere i can read them. thank you for reminding me I’M not the lunatic. thank you.
Thank you for telling it like it is. I have not enjoyed every moment with my children. I had a three year old who had a temper previously unknown to humankind and would throw tantrums at the most inopportune times. One day I got all kinds of looks from people as I as walking her to the front door of Target. I said, “You just have to love them, because you can’t kill them.” Those were not days I enjoyed and don’t even enjoy the memory of them. I now have a 13 year old (different child) who gets panic attacks. I don’t enjoy those days either. Parenting is not for the faint of heart, but I am glad I’m a Mom. Thank you for your post.
Awesome. I have three sons, and the kindest thing that was ever said to me in the grocery line was, “You are so patient with your kids.” I almost cried because at the time I was feeling like a crazy person and wondering if we really needed to shop for groceries because maybe eating wasn’t worth all THIS (brothers messing with each other, climbing on the cart like chimps, complaining incessantly about whatever, etc.).
Now I am that old lady (age 61) and desperately in love with my four grandchildren. I tell my daughters-in-law that I would never re-do my 30’s-with-young-children phase. It was way too tiring and crazy-making. I remember the good times but I am not nostalgic. And my husband and I savor the good times with the grandkids, whom we frequently babysit. But we are mostly retired and can somewhat pace ourselves. Plus we are very, very cool. 🙂
Thank God for your honesty. So glad my friend shared you on facebook!
I just had to respond to this. I have 3 sons ages 7, 5, and 3 and I feel like a crazy person everywhere I go. Ive had people tell me the same thing that I’m really patient but inside I am screaming. I know that its all worth it though.
OK. So, I’m not married and I don’t have kids…
But absolutely enjoyed this post 🙂 It applies to so many areas of life.
Thanks! 🙂
I am a grandmother of four, mother of two daughters, a retired parent educator, 63 years old, etc., etc. Your blog is right on! Love the chrono and kairos times perspective. You have found truth.
OK. So, I’m not married and I don’t have kids…
…but absolutely enjoyed this post 🙂 It applies to so many areas of life.
Thanks! 🙂
I have a 14 year old and love her to pieces, sometimes though I wish I could push back time to when she was little. Those were the times when the hurts weren’t so big and things not as hard and NO HORMONES to deal with. Would I trade it, no. I think the hard bits in between the good times makes the good moments we savor sweeter. I think these nostalgic old ladies are just wishing to push back time to where their kids are in the house and filling every second of their time. I suspect when my girl ventures out in to the world I will be feeling sad & wishing for time back too. It just seems like she was born yesterday, but time is matching fast and soon she will be leaving my nest.
I remember looking at one young mom with a babe in arms and 2 little ones in tow at the grocery store & the bay was fussing, the kids freaking out and she was trying to get her bank card out to pay & struggling with that. People in the line were eye rolling and making snide comments. I had enough & turned to the person behind me & let em have it both barrels. Then I knelt down & started chatting with the little ones & kept them busy while mom finished paying. She said “Thank you”. I gave her arm a pat and told her I know exactly how she is feeling and that we have all been there. That is the type of nostalgic moment I have.
Thank you for this validating and honest account of motherhood. Your kids are lucky to have a mother who speaks from the heart and will ultimately build them, especially your daughters, a platform for reality about motherhood. It’s something that’s not done enough. Bravo and I look forward to visiting your blog regularly from now on.
I’d give anything to be able to stand in a chaotic grocery line with my three crazy kids in the middle of a work day – so I could go home and prepare a nice dinner in the house I’d have time to clean if I weren’t gone 11 hours per day. I say be thankful for what you have and let the older women have thief moments of nostalgia at parenting times past. We’ll all be there one day, but not all of us will be able to say we were there every minute our kids needed us.
Amen.
THANK YOU for putting my thoughts down! I thought just this morning that it must be just me….feeling negative about my parenting is the pits..like when I can’t WAIT for bedtime to come for my kids…
Thank you for this! One of the first nights our son (now 3 months) was home and I was of course exhausted, my mom looked at me and just said your a good mom Em. Sometimes that is all you need to hear to get through just 1 more agonizing hour of no sleep or whatever else is pushing down on you! It was exactly what I needed at that moment.
I LOVE this! A friend shared the link on Facebook, and I just had to read it. To the person who wrote all in upper-case letters & told you to “get a grip”….get OVER yourself! Parenting IS hard! I only have 2 kids, a girl who’s 5 and a boy who’s 2.5. They’re my gems, my heart and soul, and I would not trade them for anything in this world. But there are days when I just want to walk away. Not forever. Maybe not even for a whole day. But after being a full-time Mama for almost a year, I told my husband, “Being a mom is the hardest thing I have ever done!” and I cried. Everyone tells you how fun it is, (and it IS, sometimes), and how rewarding it is, (and it IS, most times), but no one EVER tells you how HARD it is! How frustrated you might (and likely will) get. How angry you might feel at times. How much you might occasionally miss your pre-children freedom. No one tells you about the guilt that will accompany these feelings. So thank you. For writing about the hard. For your honesty and your willingness to put it out there. Thank you, for helping other moms feel a little less alone. A little better about getting annoyed, frustrated, and sometimes temporarily “depressed”. Keep writing…you do it well:) <3
I absolutely love the distinction between these two ways of experiencing time. Being in the moment should be a gentle, sacred thing, not something to be seized. I do think living mindfully means having more and more of those moments of out-of-time deeply aware gratitude, but I wouldn’t want to live that way all the time, either. There’s something to be said for the beauty in ordinary living, too.
Now all that said I do have to add that I read your last line as “crap a couple of chairos every day” which was quite a mental image 🙂
I thank you for this. I call them the “Lifetime Movie Crowd”, those who claim to enjoy every moment. Usually you talk to their adult children, and either there was a good bit of drinking, or Mom forgot to mention the time she had her son in the car threatening to drive him to the Boys Home. I will take a little so-called-negativity that touches my heart, over a bowl of fairydust that throws me into an automatic eye-roll, anyday.
Thank you for this. It’s good to know I’m not the only one wanting to tell those sweet old ladies something other than “yes I’m enjoying it all”.
I needed this today, as my 16 mo old daughter is going through a temper tantrum testing phase. And every night when the day is done, as difficult as it has been, I thank God for how spirited she is and for how she changed my life. While I am greatful for the time to relax with my husband, I am also greatful for the hecticness that is being a mom. Right now I am thankful for a sleeping baby and an hour of quiet because come 5 o’clock, we start the madness all over again until bed time. Thank you for this article! Thank you for being honest. And thank you for helping me to feel like I’m not so crazy 🙂
Great column! Yes, I am one of those “older women”, and I do feel that way–that the time flew by. But yes, I also remember how hard it was. For some reason as time goes by, those hard memories fade and the happier ones rise up strongly. Maybe it’s hormonal.
For what it’s worth, here is what you need to hear; I know because this is what I needed to hear, and seldom did: Raising kids is hard, especially in a society that doesn’t really respect or value parenting. (According to kids’ TV, movies, and books, parents are the bad guys.) I can see you are struggling. But I say good on ya! You’re doing a hard job and you are doing it well. We can tell because your kids are happy. Everything else anyone says is just noise. We all salute you for your efforts, and are grateful for the effort you are making to raise your children. As a society, how would we survive without moms like you? Good job!
Wow! You have made me laugh and cry, just because of this post. I cannot thank you enough for sharing these words, and sharing yourself. I have been immensely inspired by your words and honesty. I wish I could hug you. I enjoyed this post, then went to read about you, then went to read more and more and more. You are amazing beyond words. I have found myself in a role I did not go seeking…one where I am inspiring others, although I did not feel adequately prepared to be in this role. Reading about you has helped put things into perspective; given me words to share with others – when I could not come up with them on my own; and most importantly, reminded me to Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day!
I’m new to your blog; linked to this post through a friend. Just want to say THANK YOU for voicing what I’ve been learning over the last year with my daughter. I laughed and cried my way through reading this and feel so encouraged and affirmed. And I wholeheartedly agree with what you say. Thank you, thank you.