Slowing Down

A beautiful fall day today prompted me to ask two year old

"Do you want to ride your bike?"

"Yes" he replied sweetly and then informed me "No, I want to just walk"


"No bike? Are you sure?"


I had just found the bike helmet that belonged to his older brother and hopefully tried it on his head to see if it would fit. It was comically large on two year old's head.


"Just a walk, mommy. No bike."


So putting baby in the stroller and grabbing a library book that needed to be returned, we set off to walk to the library (which is delightfully in walking distance for pleasant days such as this).


The thing I did differently today was that I just enjoyed the walk. I didn't try to rush or walk fast or worry about what might happen or what would happen later in the day. I just walked, with my two little boys. This was something that I used to do with the older ones several years ago before life got crazy.


I stopped while two year old grabbed a stick to play with - a sword of course, or maybe a gun.


I stopped to show him a rabbit who was trying to conceal itself in the grass. Delightful to him of course.


I stopped to show him how the leaves were falling off the tree - explained about fall and trees and leaves.


I stopped when he saw dandelions and showed him how to blow the fluff off of the white ones. He did this excitedly several times. And now I will forever have a beautiful image in my head of my little boy blowing away the dandelion fluff.


We got to the library, turned in the book, picked up a few things and walked back.


We stopped when he found more dandelions.


We stopped to see if the bunny was still there.


I showed him the bean pods that fell from one of the trees, how they made a rattling sound and how to crack them open to see the beans inside.


I showed him a pine cone and he brought it with us for a while.


Then close to home we found some sand on the sidewalk where there is some construction going on. I picked up some sand to show him and he spent the next ten minutes pouring it out of his hand and tossing it.


We had a lovely walk. It was most lovely because I just let myself relax, be present and not worry about anything. Something I should do more often.


I think we forget sometimes, or at least I do, how naturally kids and the outdoors go together. I thought today about how everything outside is very forgiving of children. Pulled leaves and grass grow back. Tree bark is tough and durable, sticks are meant to be played with a broken. A severe contrast to inside where many things can be broken, overused or ruined.

I also thought about something that I read that G.K. Chesterton wrote about how as adults we become jaded by sin and so we constantly seek novelty because things no longer impress us. We no longer delight in things like the sunrise and sunset and the changing of the seasons because our sins make us cranky and old. He remarked, if I remember right, that God has a very childlike delight in repetition - since the sun does rise and fall everyday, things follow a certain repetitious pattern.

Slowing down felt good - not worrying makes life much more tolerable. Taking walks will definitely be happening more often for baby, two year old and me.

The Green Thing

There's been a post I've seen cropping up in my Facebook feed recently, you may have seen it: 

Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the older woman, that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment.

The woman apologized and explained, "We didn't have

this green thing back in my earlier days."

The young clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment f
or future generations."

She was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were truely recycled.

But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags, that we reused for numerous things, most memorable besides household garbage bags, was the use of brown paper bags as book covers for our schoolbooks. This was to ensure that public property, (the books provided for our use by the school) was not defaced by our scribblings. Then we were able to personalize our books on the brown paper bags.

But too bad we didn't do the green thing back then.

We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throwaway kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

But that young lady is right; we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she's right; we didn't have the green thing back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But we didn't have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest burger joint.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?

Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smartass young person.

We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't take much to piss us off.

O.k., so apart from being scolded for "misunderstanding" my elders and the wonderful things they used to do, has anyone else had the feeling that this post is just a lot of "back in my day..." sort of talk? 

 

Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks so. This article that appeared in the Vancouver Sun  deconstructed this story to point out that many of the things that the writer touts as being something "green" that the older generation did that was infinitely superior to our way of life and thinking was actually something that was invented or promoted by the very oldsters who are complaining about young people these days. 

 

The other thing I couldn't help but think about when I read this story was that the generation who is on the defensive here as not being "green" was in fact responsible for some pretty cruddy and not-at-all green things. I'm thinking specifically of the post war generation who developed and permitted the use of DDT and allowed companies like DuPont and Monsanto to usher in the Pesticide Era in the 1950s. Agriculture would not look the way it does today if it weren't for people like Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz under Richard Nixon who dramatically changed the landscape of American Agriculture from 1971 forward. 

 

The way things are today is a consequence of the innovations of previous generations who bought into Dupont's slogan from 1935 "Better Living Through Chemistry" and all of those chemicals are now creating toxic load on our bodies and in the environment. 

 

The generation who proudly tells us they were green before green was cool were the ones who ushered in the Supermarket (which presumably this woman was shopping in) that necessitated the widespread use of paper and plastic bags. Theirs was the generation that embraced TV dinners and disconnection from family farms in favor of convenience and "better living." 

 

I'm not going to go so far as to say that I'm terribly good at being "green." I don't use cloth diapers, though sometimes feel as though I should. I don't hang my wash to dry on a line, though many of the people in my community do. I just think that this story is one that is the older generation looking back and saying - look how wonderful we were, you young people are so wasteful and have no idea when you talk about being green. 

 

I honestly wish that the post war generation had reconsidered DDT and pesticide use, had rejected chemical birth control and had not brought into being some of the "conveniences" we have today. 

 

Don't get me wrong, I have a deep respect for my elders and their values and their contributions to the world - I just don't think this story considers the issue beyond making older Americans feel like they've got one up on the youngsters. 

 

I think we all can be more honest with ourselves than that.

Friday thoughts

Well everyone, we survived another week of life, isn't it grand?


There hasn't been much to blog about in the household this week. It's been one of those average, unremarkable weeks which can be both good and bad.

I could bore you with the details of reorganizing the clothes in my tiny bedroom, but I won't.

I did find Simcha Fischer's article over on the National Catholic register this week interesting, though. The article is titled "This Isn't Really Who I Am!" and talks about how she sort of keeps making excuses about how she is not really herself because of the life circumstances she finds herself in.

"This is my life, and this is me, living it.  It's time to give up for good the idea that there is some other, calmer me waiting in the wings to deal with some other, calmer existence that may or may not come about"

I find myself falling prey to this same mentality almost constantly.

"It's a pretty common mental trap to fall into -- clinging to the notion that we're just getting through this rough patch right now, but that our real life lies waiting for us in the future, and our real selves are the ones who have to deal with that real life.  The trap says:  This, just now?  This is temporary.  This is a glitch, and we need to cut ourselves some slack until our real lives start again."

I believe I have been doing this very thing ever since graduating college. Once the predictable ebb and flow of school years fades away, I think it becomes difficult to reconcile the idea that life is just an unpredictable jumble of days that do not follow a set plan or are dictated by the seasons of the year.

Since becoming a parent especially it's easy to fall into the trap. Once the kids are older, I'll be more like myself. Once the kids are out of the house, things will be more normal. But then I have to stop and think about all of the life circumstances that could happen between now and then and have to consider that, as Mrs. Fischer relates, I have to accept that this is my real life. Projecting our real lives into the future undermines any efficacy we have in the present moment.

On the other hand, I also think it's necessary for parents to project their thoughts into a quieter, if not realistic future some days and to believe that their kids will not always be afraid of the dark, will be potty trained, will not find it necessary to cover the kitchen floor with flour if they happen to find an open bag lying around unsupervised. We have to have these thoughts because the idea of living with pint sized crazy people indefinitely is not bearable. We have to have moments where we buy into the idea that maybe someday we'll have time for more of the things that we find interesting and entertaining - maybe even to go into that antique shop and browse without worry that someone will touch something irreplaceable and the proprietor will despise you for it.

We have to believe these things - else we go mad. So, yes, I accept that this current situation is my real life but I refuse to believe that it is not a season of my life, and, like everyone, I enjoy some seasons more than others.

Ultimately, she ties her thoughts in the article back to the fact that we live in an imperfect world and that the perfect real life we imagine we're missing out on doesn't actually exist and will always be tainted by original sin (good point). It just got me thinking about why we might have the tendency to deny our current situation as being our "real life." I think it's because some days as a mom and a parent you just have to say - this IS temporary, it WILL get better - otherwise we might all just give up and go down with the ship.

Me, I'll be dreaming and that will keep us away from the iceburgs.

Too little butter, too much bread

Today's theraputic blogging session has been brought to you by this quote from Lord of the Rings. Lately I have felt spread too thin. There are four of them and one of me and many days if I could clone myself I would in a heartbeat. I realize that there are the ethical ramifications of cloning to be considered and there's no guarantee that my clone would behave as I would wish her too (you know, being a creature in possession of free will and all that rubbish). **Side note, I particularly enjoy the word rubbish and feel I should use it more often.**


It's worse on the weekends and now that it is Monday and the older ones are off to school I can decompress.

Still breathing, that's good.

My prayer at the moment is that I could experience the miracle of the multiplication of the butter so that I have enough to spread to everyone. :) Maybe that's what grace is, though, a multiplication of the butter. Hmmm, is the metaphor getting spread too thin? One toast to rule them all...okay nevermind, lol.

Other thoughts for today....

My favorite thing after school when the kids come home, if I've managed to do quite a bit of tidying in the house is my eldest son's reaction.


"Wow, Mom, you did a lot today!"


Totally validating of all the work I put into cleaning up.


My other favorite quote from him recently: "You're driving everyone ridiculous!"


Also, upon announcing that I was leaving their grandparent's house and was ready to head home, the two year old says: "By yourself?" (clearly he wanted to stay there and was perfectly fine with me heading home all on my own).

Book Club Selection of the Month: 

I always enjoy being around books and it is a (not-so-secret) desire of mine to someday run a used bookstore. It's sort of a pipe dream with no real plan to make it happen, but it's fun to dream. But I do attend my library's monthly book club and that has been a great experience and way to find out about/read books that I might not pick up otherwise.

This month's selection is definitely one of those that I would not have necessarily picked up on my own.

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand - who evidently was the author of "Seabiscuit."

 Book club is tonight and I'm only about half-way through the book. It's not a fast read, but it is an interesting book.

It tells the story of a young man named Louis Zamperini who starts out as an olympic track star and winds up in the Pacific theater in the air force during WWII.

The prologue of the book gives it away that eventually his plane will crash and he will be trying to survive in the ocean on a raft.

I think if you enjoy true stories, or historical stories then you would enjoy this book. Also, if you like survival stories a la "I Shouldn't Be Alive." (Which, by the way, I watched a lot of while I was in the hospital with my PE last year - totally made me feel better since the people on the show were going through a lot worse than I was - hurrah for schadenfreude).

I will let you know how I feel about it once I'm finished (if I finish).

The grass is brown, no matter which side of the fence you're on.

I'm having one of those mornings....kind of feels like sometimes every morning is "one of those" mornings. This is life, no? 

After I decided on a title for this post, I remembered that I had read an article from back in April that one of my friends posted on Facebook  (I think it was my friend from over at the Percolating Petals blog but I am not certain of that). It was written by Fr. Robert Barron and the perspective that he gives is a really good one no matter what your vocation or state in life. He discusses in the article how those in the priesthood idealize married life and vice versa. He writes of his idealized vision of marriage: 

"I thought of how nice it would be to be wrapped up in my imaginary wife’s arms, being protected from the rough and cold world outside. I thought about how great it would be to live with a best friend, and the possibility of creating new life together. I thought about growing old with a woman who promised to love me unconditionally all the days of her life. And then I would sigh and feel sorry for myself."

A fellow priest informed him that the grass is brown on both side of the fence.

 "In other words, whatever vocation you are called to, the cross is there."

 

That is pretty profound to me. I had almost decided to write a post today about what I will call "teenager envy." This is a condition specific to mothers with small children who have a certain envy of mothers with teenagers (and older children in general). 

 

The five year old has lately decided that the night is perilous and fraught with terror and thusly refuses to fall asleep if I am not there with her. Then there is the waking up at 1:30 am and 6 am. You would think that it would be the 5 month old waking me up, but this would not be true. 

So my teenager envy comes from two ideas: firstly, teenagers sleep, a lot, and sleep in on weekends like normal people - they are not under the impression that they will be "missing out on something" should they fall asleep. They have no desire to be in your bed with you (hopefully) for any reason. 

secondly, privacy is back on the table. Your teenager does not want to accompany you on your trips to the little mommy's room. And when they need to use the facilities, they can do so by themselves, without assistance or creating additional mess. 

But then I have to snap back to reality, because I coach teenagers and I have friends with teenagers. 

They're moody, they don't want to spend time with you, you are some form of insignificant life who is not worthy of their attention and your sole function in their life is to be a kill-joy. I realize this is not all teenagers but I'm not going to idealize them too much either. 

Parenting is hard, marriage is hard, the single life is hard, the priesthood is hard, being a cloistered nun (I'm sure) is hard - though that is the other lifestyle I idealize more than I should. 

Whatever vocation you choose, the cross is there. 

The grass is brown on both sides of the ever-loving fence. Nobody is free from their own cross. My cross is not theirs and theirs is not mine. I've been given grace to carry my cross specifically and there are many days I know I would fail miserably without it. 

Something else I read recently speaks to that, though. We're supposed to fail. No one does things perfectly and we're imperfect creatures. So I'm letting go of the rosy glasses and the idea the someone out there has it so much better than I do somehow. 

We all have crosses. I just need to remember that, carry mine and soldier on.

Once Upon a Quiet Tuesday Morning

Dear readers, I drank my coffee while it was still hot today. 

Do you know why??

It's Tuesday!!! Which ordinarily would not be a vastly superior day of the week, however, it is a Tuesday following a three day weekend. Three day weekends are essentially the equivalent of a rager when it comes to the children. 

 

The house, which I would have called relatively clean on Friday prior to school pick-up now resembles the aftermath of a major Fraternity party. 

So now, it is Tuesday. The only sounds in the house right now are the peaceful blowing of the air-conditioner and the twinkly-sparkly sounds of "Super Why" that the two year old is absorbed in as background ambiance. 

So now, I face the inevitable climb to somehow reconstruct the order of the house. I have to say I have a vast amount of appreciation for the now-late Phyllis Diller who said,  

 

So true, so true, dear Phyllis you were so wise. 

The only flaw I can see in the analogy is that snow doesn't keep falling for 18 or so years. Also, you can try to make the darling little snowflakes shovel up after themselves but it is a constant grinding struggle. 

The other adage that I have seen while searching Google images for something or other - I believe I typed in "messy house" was this:

(now available on Ebay for $9.99 plus shipping should you be so inclined)

 

I just wonder if the same thing would fly outside a Frat house. 

 

"Excuse our pig-sty, the young chaps within are merely making memories"

In other, unrelated musings...

 

We rented "The Pirates: Band of Misfits" on Amazon Instant Video over the weekend. Mostly because the husband had seen a preview and thought it looked funny. 

 The movie was quite good, it's a claymationish style movie a la Wallace and Grommit. I was impressed that the daughter had been perceptive enough to notice that one of the pirates was a lady pirate who was wearing a beard to make the other pirates believe she was a boy. It surprised me that she noticed because it was a sort of subtle element in the movie. 

 

There were a couple of moments in the movie that might not be as suitable for children since it is rated "PG" but they're no worse than anything in say "Shrek." 

One of my favorite parts in the movie is the inclusion of a song called "Not Crying" by Flight of the Conchords (who are ordinarily brilliant anyway). 

For your amusement, here is the You Tube video. The song is included in the movie, and hilarity ensues. 

Anywho, if you haven't seen this gem (The Pirates). I recommend it. 

Feeling Like Dory

There are quite a few blog topics I have been kicking around in my head but I feel that this is most likely the product of feeling some writing inspiration welling in my being again. I am torn between wanting to write solely about parenting and writing about whatever topic comes into my head. It seems to me that enough people out there are blogging about parenting so why add my voice to the fray and yet why deprive everyone of my *unique* perspective. Yes, we are all precious snowflakes and my thoughts are more precious than your thoughts (*snicker*). 

 

O.k., well, anyway, the thoughts above sort of reflect the idea that I decided to write about today instead of the power struggle I have had with my daughter lately (although that is also interesting and probably less than amusing - let me just give you a hint - it involved experimenting in the kitchen with various foods and resulted in a watermelon, carrot and onion concoction that she was then required to eat because she made it - oh got to love natural consequences). 

 

Sense a pattern here? 

 

I feel like Dory the fish from "Finding Nemo." Hello, can I help you? Oh, a boat! I've seen a boat! It's this way, follow me......Hello, can I help you? 

 

The natural business that results from parenting as many children as we now have causes this state of Doriness. Case in point, I was interrupted from writing just now by the two year old in the high chair:

 

 "Mommy, can I have tuna fish?" (because oldest son is eating a bowl of tuna salad - yeah we're a bit low on the breakfast options at the moment), followed by daughter 

 

"Can I have a glass of milk?" 

 

"Can I use this glass?" (by which she means the glass shot glass that is in the cupboard primarily for me to be able to use the last bit of children's medicine in the bottle that I can't reach with the medicine syringe) 

 

"No, you can't use that glass" 

 

"What is it for?" 

 

"Measuring things..." (I wasn't about to go into a lot of detail at this point)

 

(Baby fusses from his tummy on the floor on the blanket, dissatisfied with the sock he is currently chewing on - remove sock from baby's hand, pick up)

 

"Mommy, I'm all done!! And I sticky!" 

 

"Mom, he didn't want the milk I poured so I dumped it out"

 

?!

 

"You did what? Why?? O.k. new rule, before you pour some milk for someone ask them if they want it. Do we have to talk about wasting food again??"

 (find clean rag or towel to clean off two year old - settle for pink bath towel because rags are seemingly in short supply - wipe hands, get him down from high chair)

 

"Mommy, I cold too"

 

"Well, then maybe you just need a blanket" (toss blanket onto two year old and then retrieve baby from crib where he was put while wiping down toddler and is now fussing)

 

*Whew* Tired out? Me too. It really just goes on from there. So should I really be surprised when I feel like Dory?

 

If you are feeling so inclined here's a Dory refresher(for those who haven't seen Finding Nemo in a while or ever):

It's no wonder then, that I spend my days wandering around with what I will term "Parenting related short term memory loss." Honestly when I don't have someone asking me to do something or a question or doing something for somebody my brain is just a flurry of other things that I should be doing and so I wind up with a house full of things I tried to do before I got interrupted. 

 

Consequently, I can be doing dishes for two minutes and suddenly remember that I put a load of clothes in the washer two hours ago and they probably need to go in the dryer while at the same time thinking that I still haven't completed that last segment of the back porch as of yet. 

 

The one thing, though, that I think all moms (and everyone really) comes away with from Dory is to "just keep swimming...just keep swimming."

 

I think if I can just keep swimming everything's going to work out fine.

7 ACTUAL ways for moms to recharge and destress

**New blog, first post. Let me preface this by saying that for sometime I have wanted to write a regular blog and I felt like to get this endeavor underway that my old blog and I were going to have to break up. Don't worry I'll write it a nice "Dear blog" letter or something. Anyhow, I'm hoping this new blog will be part-stress relief, part actually writing (it was after all my major in college) and part sharing the insanity that is my family for those who care to read about it. So, if you are reading this, thank you, you will shortly be receiving what I have to share of my snarky everyday existence with four crazy children***

So, without further ado.....

7 ACTUAL ways for Moms to re-charge and de-stress

 I will preface this by saying I don't actually know the woman who wrote her "tips" for moms on this website and some people may find her suggestions actually helpful but I am not one of those people. I wrote a reaction to her tips on a Facebook post and enjoyed doing it so much that I just wanted to blog again. I thought it might be entertaining (and theraputic - it's all about the therapy) to write my own "tips" for moms to destress which are based in a more firmly grounded reality. Here is my offering to you:

Tip #1: Coffee - copious amounts of coffee. The poor woman who was responsible for the original tip list didn't even bring up coffee until tip #3 (poor deluded woman). I used to observe the rule of one cup per child but my last pregnancy killed my desire for coffee (I know it was tragic) so I'm back up to half speed - two cups per day (four children = four cups, okay all on the same page). The corollary to this is beer.  I asked a woman of my acquaintance who had two sets of  fraternal twins approximately 18 months apart how she did it - her reply: "Beer. Lots of beer." Let us bask in this wisdom.

 

Tip #2:  Make it a point every day to avoid reality if at all possible. This can be accomplished by using your imagination - a vital coping mechanism for the mom on the go. For instance, if the two year old is screaming at you in a furious tantrum, you can imagine yourself on a quiet beach with a cocktail in hand. The furious screams can be factored in as merely the cries of an annoying seagull. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tip #3: Reflect on the things that did not go wrong or get destroyed today. Be thankful for those things! If you can't think of anything that did not go wrong or did not get destroyed, revert to tip #2 and imagine how someone else's day did not go wrong and things did not get destroyed then imagine that person is you. Reflecting on these things means that you may still be sane once you are an empty nester. Also, watch an episode or two of Hoarders, you might feel better.

Tip #4: By all means, stretch, but not in the car for the love of all that is good. Work out, knit, crochet, make those decorative dog whistles that you saw on Pinterest but do not attempt any form of sanity in the car with children. Unless those children are sleeping children or have been lulled into a hypnotic trance by the in car dvd system. If none of this is effective, scream, preferably into a pillow, but I'm not going to judge you if you don't use a pillow. 

 

Tip #5:  Sing! A lot! Often and off key! In the shower! In the park! At the grocery store! Especially "Jingle Bells" off-season. This is your cry for help and someone will come and realize that you have lost your mind and will hopefully take pity on you. If you get committed then you will have ample opportunity to recharge and destress from the safety of your straightjacket. 

 

 

 

Feel better yet?? We're almost done de-stressing!!

Tip #6: Our dear, well-meaning psychologist friend recommends 20-30 minutes of "quiet time" during the day. I suppose she implies that this quiet time should be accomplished in sequential minutes. My recommendation for getting at least a small portion of this quiet time is to lock the bathroom door. But....but...you say...that will not create quiet time, that will cause my child and/or children to whine and/or scream outside of the door until I allow them in. This is where tips #2 and #5 come into play. Once the door is locked, you can imagine yourself at a spa where you are able to relax and if the screams bother you too much just sing at the top of your lungs until the children suspect that something really might be wrong with Mommy and they leave you alone. 

 

Tip #7: Wherein our dear psychologist friend tells us to pamper ourselves with fancy things that we neither have nor can afford. Go ahead and pamper yourself. Hide those things you don't want the children to ruin in your sock drawer (this is currently the home of my Kindle since my children normally have very little interest in my socks). Then use your imagination (see what an important tool this is?!) to envision how someday your house will be clean and your couches won't be covered in a protective coating of chocolate milk residue. Buy the nice coffee so it'll taste a little bit better when you drink it lukewarm. Go nuts! No, really, go nuts and then others will "pamper" you back into sanity. 

 

Well, we're out of tips! Are you stress free?? NO?  Well, you have children, and if I had all of the answers I wouldn't have been Googling "how to destress when you have children" and then I would never have come across the lovely piece of psychology fiction and then where would we be? Lost in that horrible motherhood maze without any idea who moved our cheese. 

If anyone wants me I'll be sipping my nearly cold coffee and humming.