Resilience

resilient: adj. capable of resuming its shape, position, etc. after being subjected to stress, elastic. [from the Latin, resiliens, resilire, to spring back]

I often say it is my goal to raise independent, resilient children. As a Mom, though, it's hard to gauge how resilient I actually am.

At first, the relentless physical and emotional demands of caring for a tiny baby, of being responsible for his well-being, even feeding him from my very self, was a shock. It took a good six weeks for me to come to terms with the fact that motherhood was a 24 hour per day job. Until I did, resilience eluded me.

But with time and help, I adjusted. That first stretching into the new shape of motherhood almost broke me, but didn't. To my surprise I found I had a stronger, more flexible core than I imagined.

I have come to love being a Mom. And I have learned that this process of stretching, reaching, snapping back occurs on multiple levels over days, weeks, even years. Every childhood phase, medical scare or job worry pulls at me. In time each stress passes. I adjust and make my way again.

My life as a Mom has its undisputed high points. I had a few moments on Easter day when I stood fully in the warm sunbeam of familial love. When I felt the perfection of the day and of our life. It couldn't have felt better. What a contrast from those first difficult days.

There are lows as well, sometimes right on the heels of the highs.

On Monday, I was pounded by relentless waves of bickering. The children clawed through their last day of vacation by finding innovative ways to annoy and betray one another. I grew tired of the rancor. It was an assault to my spirit and my senses.

The sole piece of mail I received that day was a one-line rejection of a resume I had submitted to a local non-profit. It was for a job I knew I could do, was excited about, was hopeful for. Despite my skills, background, and stellar references, they didn't even interview me.

Talk about bruised pride.

It was a sad end to a difficult day.

I fumbled my way through supper and put the children to bed. My husband, seeing my disappointment, was quiet. He brought me tea and asked about my plans for the evening.

I was nestled in a blanket in a cozy corner of the couch, but three full baskets of clean, unfolded laundry glared at me from across the room. I gave them a nod, "tackle those, I guess."

"Nonsense. Wait here." Moments later, he left the house.

It was the nudge I needed to give myself a reprieve from the housework. I looked over the letter again and took guilty pleasure in finding a spelling mistake.

I was content with the quiet until my husband returned. "You need a distraction," he told me as he popped in a DVD.

It was Beverly Hills Cop. He knew just what would brighten my mood. Vintage Eddie Murphy.

I was so grateful for him. We talked into the night and I confessed my feelings.

The worst part of it was that I knew at least ten different ways I would have been able to help this non-profit do its work more effectively. He listened carefully and told me it was their loss that they hadn't given me a chance. The fact that theirs is a cause I care about just made the rejection harder to take.

It has forced me to face the question: How resilient am I?

My caring spouse gave me a pretty good bounce back in the attitude department. But the professional side remains unresolved.

I am a woman of action, impatient with waiting for others' approval. Maybe it's time to make my own opportunities. I may have been stretched, but I haven't shattered, right?

So I'll take some time to rethink, reset my priorities, and make a plan of action. Through the process, maybe the way forward will reveal itself.

There are times when I want to break instead of springing back.

Then I tell myself today is not the day for breaking.

It's not what Moms do.

- Midwest Mom

Deep Breath -- say AHHHH...

Okay, okay... so maybe after my last post, I am the one who seems like she needs a time-out.

There's nothing like a good dose of reality to bring you back from the brink when you're angry. Two things happened today to make me re-think my words.

One: The Clinton camp began to signal that they will end their campaign on Tuesday. [see the link for MSNBC First Read on the right for the latest] There is even talk that some of the superdelegates will get off the fence. Hallelujah. The rest of us have been expected to knuckle down and vote already -- they should too.

Two: My middle child has been sick with a virus all day. Fever of 103 and associated ejector-stomach. It's a new term I'm coining. Maybe someday it'll make it into the medical literature. There's something about a child in such misery that gives you a chance to remember what is important. I just wanted him to feel better, and tonight it seems he finally does.

And so, regarding Hillary Clinton, I still wonder whether to trust her that she will exit gracefully and do as she has promised: tirelessly support the nominee. But, I also realize that as a Mom, there are times when all the big news in the world seems to fall away. When your child is sick, none of that is important anymore.

Life brings you perspective when you least expect it.

Here's to that,

Midwest Mom

Hillary in a Corner

Does anyone get the feeling that Hillary Clinton and her angry supporters just need a "time out"?

If she were my child, I would have taught her something about grace. I think losing gracefully is the hardest thing to convey to my own children. This is what I tell them in those "teachable moments".

- No one says you have to like to lose. It's not something to enjoy.

- Everyone loses now and then. So, being graceful when you lose is a skill you will need and use.

- The key to being a graceful loser is to acknowledge the loss and to congratulate the winner.


So, did Sen. Clinton not have parents who taught her about grace and sportsmanship? Or has she just "fallen in" with a bad crowd (i.e. Bill and James Carville)? After hearing Harold Ickes at the close of the DNC rules committee meeting Saturday, I came to the understanding that she and her camp do not intend to exit quietly. If they do, you could knock me over with a feather.

One thing is certain: the way Hillary Clinton has run her campaign, with the lies she told about Bosnia in Pennsylvania, the "shame on you" in Ohio, pretending she is a proponent of Native American rights in South Dakota, race-baiting in South Carolina, and gas tax pandering in Indiana, she sends the message that her campaign is mostly about her. When she says, "I'll never stop fighting for you." I hear, "I'll never stop fighting for ME."

Now we have the rules committee showdown where the other candidate and his representatives decided to forgo a 50-50 division of Michigan delegates, even though they had the votes. An equitable solution was forged in which Clinton got the majority of the delegates from that contest. Even though many of her supporters on the committee voted for the compromise, she unleashed an attack dog at the end.

To Senator Clinton, I have this to say. I am a mother raising children, and I hope they never act the way you have in this campaign. I am an independent "swing" voter, and you will never get my vote. I am a woman, and I am sorely disappointed that you are the sole representative of my gender on the national political stage.

Now, stop your kicking and screaming. Tell your friends to go home. Because you are going in the corner, young lady. It's time for a little time-out!