The problem with GUILT and SPANX

The problem with guilt and spanx is that they'll both make you find yourself in a moment of panic when you realize you can't breathe.

*First and foremost, you need to know what spanx are.  Some women feel them to be a wonderful tool of compacting your body so that nothing jiggles.  They are sort of like control top panty hose on steriods.  You can buy them in various lengths and they extend up to your ribcage.  It's sort of like being a tightly packed sausage link.  While nothing jiggles and you do feel thinner, you should never try to take a "short" potty break, because these bad boys are not easy to get on and off.  Do yourself a favor and give up liquids for the day.  If you feel like you're going to pass out, it's normal. * 

  
     As you all know very well, I'm never short on things to feel guilty over.  As an educator, I'm given a nice amount of time off throughout the year to be with my kids.  The drawback to that fact is that I feel like we are settled into a routine just long enough to get comfortable, then it changes for a week, two weeks, or the summer.  Then, we adjust to a new little schedule and things change again.  It's like starting a new job every year, and having just enough breaks to make you want more.  PLEASE don't think I'm complaining.  I honestly don't think I could do anything that required more time from my kids, so I'm extremely thankful for my job, but there's always a little guilt involved when my little chickies have to readjust and I'm forced to leave them crying after me.  This is has been the worst year so far.
     Princess was elated to begin preschool.  (She attends a half day session at a Christian preschool nearby.)  The first two days were wonderful.  Despite the fact that she has never had to get up at a certain time in the morning, she hopped up, got dressed, and was ready to go.  After those two days, however, she informed me that she would not be returning to preschool, and as a matter of fact, she didn't think her dad should go back either.  If he were to decide to stay home, she reasoned, she could simply give him the money from her piggy bank so we could pay bills.  As precious as the offer was, I had to break it to her that preschool wasn't something she could quit.  Thus began the mommy guilt.
     Due to the location of the preschool in repect to our work, I am the one who takes Princess to school.  I have to drop her off as early as they are accepted in order to make it to work on time.  However, Princess decided (AFTER entering the school on the third day) that she didn't want me to leave so quickly and began crying rather obnoxiously.  It was every mothers nightmare.  My child seemed broken hearted and I had no choice but to 1. leave her crying and feel heartless OR 2. give in and forever cement in her mind that throwing a tantrum will get her way.  There's no way to win.  Maybe, MAYBE, if I hadn't left two crying 13 month olds at home, my heart wouldn't have hurt so badly as I peeled her off of my leg, handed her to the teacher, and turned around and left.  I doubt it, but maybe.
     I headed to work that day in my "teacher clothes", i.e. dress clothes.  I'm not the size I was right after having the twins, but I'm not exactly back in my old clothes either, so I have to decide each morning if my clothes are going to be a bit too loose for comfort or a bit too tight for comfort. (I know buying new ones would make sense, but my pride and my wallet don't agree.)  Anyway, I had found a solution to the problem of my skirt not wanting to zip:  I found a pair of spanx that had been given to me by my mother or a friend close enough to give you something of the sort and put them on.  I know I didn't buy them because I would never willingly buy a torture device.  I'll be honest though, I kind of liked that they made my clothes fit better, even if the phrase "stuffed sausage" ran through my mind several times as I got ready.  It sure did make that zipper feel better.
     I was running late for work, so I rushed in the building and got a little winded in the process.  I was feeling anxious because teaching isn't one of those jobs you can actually be late for and I hate cutting it close.  I was feeling nervous, frustrated, guilty, sad, and a little weary.  I knew I'd make it throught the day though, God had my back, and even though I hadn't said much to Him, I felt pretty secure for the day ahead because I stopped by a friend's room and asked her to pray for me.  (I figure if I'm not up to it myself, I should at least have someone else intercede, right?)  The day continued, and I don't remember much about it.
     At the end of the day, I went to leave and realized that I had lost my keys.  I went to the first floor, got the secretary's keys, walked back up the three flights of stairs, and looked for my keys (which were in the bag I had carried down and back up with me).  When I finally got into my car, I was once again winded.  When I couldn't catch my breath, I realized I was having some sort of attack.  I freaked out a little, prayed, called Dean, and drove all at the same time.  When I came out of it, I realized that something had to change...
     I'm going to be honest, I still don't know if it was the guilt or the spanx that led me to the panic attack I had in the car.  Just to be sure it doesn't happen again, I swore both of them off.  I realized a rather humorous comparison between spanx and guilt:  they will both squeeze the life out of you if you let them.  I had carried around my guilt for so many days that I had just wrapped myself in it to make it easier to carry.  I wrapped it tighter and tighter throughout the day without even realizing it, and it began to strangle me, literally.  While the fact that my stomach was squished all day might not have helped, I know my spirit was the real source of the attack, but I had hardened my heart in order to make it through the day.  "I can't deal with this right now, God".  I tend to say that so often lately.  I figured if I could just push it down, and push it down, I would be able to quench it out completely.  I was wrong.  God wouldn't let me forced it away, not because He wanted me to feel guilty, but because He wanted me to give it to Him.  I did. 
     As I was driving down the road, with Dean on the phone telling me to pull the stinking car over before I wrecked, I gave it to God.  And you know what?  I realized I didn't want it anyway.  Clinging to that guilt didn't make me stronger, it didn't make me a better mother, and it sure didn't make me a better driver.  Why God, do I cling to the things that hurt me?  I'll never know.  Here's my prayer for those of us who tend to wear our guilt like a tight pair of spanx:

God, You know my heart.  You know how much I love my family, and You know how much I love You.  Forgive me for taking on guilt that keeps me from being as close to You as I can.  Help me to fight off Satan's attacks when he brings me guilt to wear.  Make me the best I can be.  Bring comfort to the ladies around me.  Help us realize we are not alone and that this world is not our home.  We love, praise, and adore You, God.

HeliMOMter

     I don't know if any of you have ever had a pediatrician hint around about a part of your personality, but I have had two separate doctors make "passing comments" about me.  Dr. Baby Genius said something along the lines of, "You can't control every movement when you have three kids, huh?"  Another Dr., whom I deeply respect in that same practice, said, "I love studying personality traits in parents of twins.  You can't micromanage that many children at once; it's impossible." 
     Now, call me paranoid, but I seriously doubt that our general conversation just so happened to lead us in that direction during two separate doctor visits.  Granted, the craziness that ensues when I roll into the tiny room to wait on the doctor usually has me apologizing to nurses and doctors, and maybe, MAYBE, they felt the need to excuse my lack of control at the moment.  I don't know.  I do know though, that Princess suffered from my constant desire to control her every movement until I was so pregnant with the twins that I could no longer get close enough to her to hover for fear of knocking her down with my belly.  In short, becoming a mommy to the twins cured me of being a helicopter mom...sort of.
     It was easy to be a helimomter with just Princess.  She always wanted to play right at my feet, which made it easy for me to instruct her constantly on her every move.  She ate when I ate, so I just fed her.  She always wanted me there to help her with each task, so I simply did everything for her.  I know, I know; it's amazing she's normal (as normal as four year olds get anyway).  I'm sure there were moments in her little two/three year old mind when she wondered why mommy never actually let her walk into the store but carried her instead.  You may be wondering the same thing.  Honestly, it never occurred to me.  Why let her walk and risk her running away from me and getting run over when I could just carry her in instead?  I know it sounds crazy ( I would insert a "but...." here, but I have no defense and I truthfully still think it's a decent argument.)  I eventually had to stop carrying her because I was afraid I would fall and hurt both of us and carrying her weight on top of my own got burdensome.  It was then that I taught myself that we could in fact just walk hand in hand into a store without having to be unrealistically afraid of a runaway car injuring only her...Fastforward to the present.
     While I feel that I have gotten much better about being a helimomter.  I know that it's my natural tendency.  I truly just want to prevent my children from getting hurt, and maybe there is something deep within me that wants to keep them from making mistakes that may cause them pain, frustration, or even embarrassment.  However, I'm so glad that God gave me just what I needed to keep that tendency in check, chaos.  It's exhausting to micromanage one child, and it really is impossible to do so with three (especially once they are all mobile).  It's okay to teach your children to do, or not do, certain things, but we have to understand as mothers that so many lessons learned in life are done so by making mistakes.  The little things we learn "the hard way" help make us the kind of people who think about an action before taking it when we are older.  While I would love to have the energy to use every moment of my day making sure Princess, Tinker, and Tank all do everything perfectly and safely, I don't think it would be the best way of life for them.  They need me, but they need me sane, and I have to let go sometimes of things that aren't really all that important. 
     How can one possibly do so?  Well, first, you decide what you want to control most that is in essence unimportant.  Second, you let it go.  Princess's wardrobe is one area that was strangely difficult for me to let go of, not that I can't literally control what she wears, but because I knew that some days she needed that freedom from my constant control.  She loves fashion in the way many four year old girls love fashion.  She likes dresses, particularly pink ones, her American flag swimsuit, her polka dot rainboots, and she loves her white cowgirl boots, which in her mind match everything.  I don't always let her pick her outfit, but 95% of the time, I at least work out a compromise.  This is my way of not helimomtering.  It sounds silly, I know, but it really is hard for me.  It's just as hard as knowing that I can't possibly always keep Tinker from finding something that I'm sure is covered in germs and putting it in her mouth, or keeping Tank from tripping over something when he gets exciting and starts running towards me without any regard to what is in his path.  I'm not all the way there, but I'm trying.  I wanted to post about this because I think so many times our stress as moms comes from trying to control what isn't even important to control.  By all means we should make our children behave, learn respect, do things that are good and holy, but I had to learn that making Princess cry over what she will wear to Walmart, isn't worth the cost. 
    I'm on a journey, ladies; come with me.  Let's be good mothers, not helimomters.  Let's stop being a broken record in the ears of our children of "Do this", "Don't do that", and start being the voice of love and support.  Here's my prayer for us:
"Dear father, thank You for giving me such a deep love for my children.  I know that You have given me the ability to love them and a sincere desire to care for them in the best way I can.  Help me, Lord, to focus always on what is important.  Help me to let go of the trivial things that I don't need to waste time obsessing over.  Help me, Lord to be a great mom, a Godly mom.  Help me not lose my mind in the midst of this beautiful chaos. I praise You always."