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Inside Thoughts

Reclaiming Motherhood

April 8, 2022 by Sabra Staudenmaier

Sabra Staudenmaier  PHOTO By Carolyn Simpson

As a small girl, I had big ideas about being a mom on Mother’s Day.  The day would begin with breakfast served to me in bed by little ones in matching pajamas. We would cuddle together as I opened crafty gifts and read homemade cards. We would spend the day enjoying the beauty of our bond. It would be the best day of the year. A celebration of togetherness.

When I became a mom and Mother’s Day came around, a celebration was the last thing on my mind. What was there to celebrate? The never-ending pile of laundry I faced daily? The ever-present crumbs on the floor of my car? Yes, I loved my kids. But motherhood,  at least my motherhood, not so much. Reality came with a mess in the kitchen from breakfast preparation. There was glitter all over my bed from the home-made cards. Even more work that I didn’t want to be doing. What I wanted on Mother’s Day was a break from it all. I was trying to survive; I didn’t have the energy to celebrate. 

Before becoming a mom, I saw the role as a powerful place to be. I saw the mother as the leader of the home, loved and respected for her guidance. After a decade and a half, I was experiencing the opposite of this. I felt disempowered. How could I be strong doing something that was so draining? A 24- hour, seven days a week job with no vacation. Three kids taking turns having meltdowns and making messes all over the place. I didn’t need to celebrate motherhood, I needed to be rescued from it. 

What was happening? 

I was teetering on the edge of burnout. I had been so focused on my role as a mom that   I stopped taking care of myself. I thought that a good mom was one who sacrifices herself for her family. All I needed was for my kids to be ok and that would somehow make everything else, including me, ok. I was clearly doing something wrong. I could feel my foundation crumbling. 

The problem wasn’t motherhood, it was the way I was doing it. I was looking at it from the top down. It was like I was building a building starting at the penthouse floor when I needed to start at the foundation. I was the foundation.

I knew something had to change. The quality of my life depended on it. I had to start taking better care of myself. Once I understood this, I was able to rebuild my motherhood by strengthening myself.

The first step I took was I started lifting weights three to five times each week.  I became physically strong, and physical strength set me on the right track. My mood improved. From there, my entire motherhood fell into line. I became the manager of my house, delegating housework rather than doing it all. I took control of my finances. I built new skills. I rested and recovered as needed. 

And then what happened? My motherhood experience transformed from one of disempowerment to one of strength. When I felt physically strong, I felt capable. Every aspect of my life began to bloom. I was in a role I didn’t need to escape from, not even for one day.

Motherhood is a big job, and the circumstances continue to change. While old issues remain new ones, like managing technology, social media and Covid, accrue. I have discovered that having an amazing family and home isn’t enough. It all must be managed in a way that isn’t depleting and exhausting.

This Mother’s Day, look at where you are on your journey. Do you want to celebrate motherhood or escape from it? 

If your experience is the one you’ve dreamed of, fantastic. If it isn’t then it’s time to make some changes. I invite you to join me for my podcast Banishing Mom Burnout. This is a podcast dedicated to getting moms out of depletion and into a position of strength and power. There is a way to reclaim motherhood. If I did it, so can you. Now, that’s something to celebrate!

Filed Under: Inside Thoughts Tagged With: Avoiding Burnout, Celebrate, Coach, empowerment, Essay, Getting Strong, journey, Life Lessons, Mothers, Physical Strength, Strength

Our Mom & The Bouquet of Peace

April 8, 2022 by Janine Crowley Haynes

After you lose your mother, Mother’s Day becomes a somber day of reflection. Our mother is gone 21 years now. She died from lung cancer at the age of 56–a year younger than I am today. It was strange for me when I realized I’m older than my mother would ever be. Still, I reflexively reach for my phone to call her whenever something good or bad happens. Then, remind myself, with phone in hand, she’s not on the other end.

Her life was brief, but the life lessons she instilled in her three girls come back to us constantly. Sometimes, her lessons come slowly, subtly, and, other times, they slap us right in the face. I cannot express how much I love when that happens. Belonging to an Irish Catholic family, living in the Bronx, my mother was the eldest of six. Her life was filled with a steady stream of laundry–much of it done by hand. So, when she married, she insisted on squeezing a washer and a dryer into our already cramped kitchen. It would finally free her of the laborious chores of her childhood.

When I was 11, our parents separated. My mom, two sisters, and I would spend many years in our kitchen talking over the vibrational whir of the washer and the thunderous tumbling of the dryer. At dinnertime, she’d stop the machines mid-cycle so we could have some quiet conversation. Even after working twelve hours a day, six days a week, our mom always made time to sit at the kitchen table and ask about our day. The image of her reaching over to pull open the dryer door, without getting out of her chair, is forever etched in my memories. 

Right there, in our groovy 70s kitchen with its loud orange and yellow geometric, metallic wallpaper and knock-off Saarinen white-round table with matching bucket chairs, hung a print of Picasso’s Bouquet of Peace. Since I was, as my mom would say, ‘the artistic one,’ I had trouble with the drawing’s simplicity. I mean, I was 12 and could draw a more lifelike image of a bouquet of flowers. It perplexed me as much as it intrigued me. As a teen, I found myself researching Pablo Picasso and the phases of his work. His earlier work was spot-on realistic. So, clearly, he knew how to draw and paint, but the influences of the time, lead him to break free from realism and delve into cubism, and, eventually, he turned to painting in a childlike manner. I also learned he painted The Bouquet of Peace in response to the peace demonstrations taking place in Stockholm in 1958.

Our kitchen table was the roundtable of our world. Under the watchful eye of The Bouquet of Peace, it’s where our single bra-burning, bellbottom-wearing, liberal-leaning mother created a safe space for her three girls to talk about anything and everything. Nothing was off-limits. It’s where she celebrated our rite of passage into womanhood, and, subsequently, where we complained about our cramps and pimples. It’s where we learned to put on makeup. It’s where we cried over boys. It’s where we talked about our mother’s limited paycheck and how, if we wanted a new pair of Jordache jeans or a new pair of Candies, we had to work for it.

The response to a piece of artwork is typically an emotional one–even if it’s no response at all. Picasso’s flowers were always waiting to greet me in the morning. I’d stare at it while eating my Cheerios. My mother loved the cheerful nature of it and how it represented a sweet gesture of one person giving to another. She shared with me how the giving of something as simple as a bouquet of flowers could bring much joy to the recipient. In those moments, my mother was teaching us the art of the giving, the art of simple beauty, and the art of appreciating art. 

So, when I noticed my sister hung that very painting in her laundry room, it bothered me. Why would she choose to hang a significant piece from our childhood in such an obscure place? Then…BAM!!! It hit me. My sister got it right. It was the perfect place, right next to the whoosh of washer and the melodic tumbling of the dryer. Like I said, I love when that happens.

Filed Under: Inside Thoughts Tagged With: Artwork, Bouquet, Essay, journey, kitchen, Life Lessons, Loss, mom, mothers day, Our Mom, painting, reflection, remembrance

The Best Mother’s Day Gift

April 8, 2022 by Cathy Deutsch

We are all children of Mothers but becoming Mothers is a life changing experience. Not all women choose to become parents and I totally get the decision to swim against the tide, but those of us, who always wanted to be a Mom look forward to the festivities of Mother’s Day. I always feel loved and appreciated by my daughter but on that May day heralded by constant media pressure, (and I admit my firm instructions that I be honored), required the breakfast in bed tradition, Hallmark card and maybe a bunch of flowers even if picked from the just beginning to bloom garden. Now that she’s grown and flown a first thing phone call and a card in the mail and hopefully brunch pleases me just fine.

I started trying to get pregnant when I was 34 and knew it would likely be my only child and I desperately wanted a girl. I will never forget my Mom (who also had a good and devoted son) saying to me that there is nothing like having a daughter because you will be friends for life, as she was with her Mother. Mom and I loved each other dearly but I will admit sometimes I was not the best of friends as I was very independent and craved autonomy, even from an early age, but still we had a devotion and innate understanding such as the deep kinship we get from our woman friends. As we both got older and wiser and after I had a child, I understood her and the bond of parenthood more deeply and allowed myself to inch closer and was devoted to her till the end and was grateful to have been the person she turned to for comfort and strength. 

After enjoying my professional life, having sated my hunger for travel and adventure I finally became pregnant at 35. As is customary with pregnancies when one is in her mid 30s, I had ultrasound and amniocentesis. The baby was in a position that gender could not be determined. I awaited the amnio results which came in the mail stating that I would indeed be having a baby girl!  I was jubilant but needed confirmation before I told my Mom so I called the lab before giving her the good news. Yes, it was true, and I told her before anyone else and her tearful joy was among the happiest moments we shared together. She was a devoted remarkable grandmother who lived and breathed for this precious only grandchild. This was in fact the best Mother’s Day gift I could have ever given her.

The beauty of this tale is that I do have a daughter who is my best friend. From the moment she came out after 12 hours of exhaustive pushing we looked each other in the eyes like old friends and our profound life of connection started. She was an easy baby, respectful teen and now a remarkable woman of 27. We have rarely fought, think alike, get each other’s jokes, finish each other’s sentences, have the same easy big smile and the green eyes I got from my Dad.

We have laid in bed chatting for hours, dried each other’s tears, watched Pretty Woman endless times, plowed through Gilmore Girls, taken numerous girl trips and shared quite a few Margaritas, arm in arm traipsing through the streets of Manhattan. Honestly, I never imagined the depth of what loving a child could be and I continue to be amazed by the reciprocity of our affection and true pleasure we both enjoy simply by being together.

Now she has a real love in her life, and I have to move over a bit to give them the space to grow their bond and likely marriage and her eventual journey into motherhood. I was nervous at first of losing a bit of her to this new stage, but it has not been the case as we share and talk about the joys and challenges of partnership and our pillow talk is now about men not boys. We still giggle and laugh and plan for the future promising our girl trips will always continue. Oh, and she hopes to have a girl so they can be best friends just like us! That is indeed the best Mother’s Day gift ever.

Filed Under: Inside Thoughts Tagged With: Best Gift, journey, love, Mother/Daughter, mothers day

For the Love of a Dog

April 8, 2022 by Ronni Diamondstein

Love, unconditional love

The love I feel for my dog Maggie Mae

And the love Maggie Mae has for me, her person.

My protector, my defender,

The best company

Always by my side.

I can’t imagine my life without her.

No one will ever love you like your dog.

Love, unconditional love.

©Ronni Diamondstein 2022

 

Ronni and Maggie Mae.          Photo by Carolyn Simpson

 

 

Filed Under: Inside Thoughts Tagged With: Dog, love, mothers day, poem, Unconditional Love

My Story of Gratitude

November 12, 2021 by Marnie Levy-Smith

Last spring, I wrote a story about my rebuilding and thriving after suddenly losing my husband Eric at age 37 in 2014. I shared about the perspective I gained and growth my entire family experienced after such an emotional and life-altering event. The overwhelming response and love we received was incredible, and we all felt held and supported. Never in a million years would I have expected what would happen next.

On June 3rd 2021, my beautiful 11-year-old daughter, Emily was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor on her foot called Alveolar Rhabdomyosarcoma. To say that this was a shock, is an understatement. Some of the first thoughts that came to mind were, ‘This must be a mistake, we’ve already endured our tragedy!’ and ‘It has been 7 years since Eric passed, we have finally built our lives back and found peace from the chaos; how is this even possible?’

The seven emotional stages of grief felt all too familiar. First, shock and disbelief, into denial, then bargaining, some guilt, intense anger, deep depression, and eventually, through time, meditation and incredible love, there was acceptance and hope. These episodes of grief were emotional, physical, and even debilitating. It felt like bereavement all over again, but this time with my living, vibrant, incredible mini me. We cried, we prayed, we held one another close. Our family and friends once again united to form a team of warriors that pledged to beat this cancer so that Emily would be cancer free.

How, you might ask, can I write a story of gratitude for you today? As a life coach, I have learned that as humans we do not have control of what life throws at us. The only thing that we can control is how we think about the situations that arise. These thoughts are what control our feelings, which in turn, create our narratives. Once we learn how to consciously think about the thoughts in our head, we can begin understanding the power of our own mind. As one of my mentors, Gabby Bernstein, international motivational speaker, life coach, and New York Times bestselling author has said, “when I let go of my need to control, I can allow the universe to do her thing.”

Today, in this season of gathering and gratitude, I am grateful for how I learned to manage my mind and help myself and the world around me. I can accept life’s challenges with clarity and grace. I have built up a resilience fueled with positive energy and unconditional love, and I am an example for my children, my family, my friends, my clients and my community of what is possible.

We are almost halfway through the 43 weeks of chemotherapy. We have successfully completed 20 days of targeted radiation. In July, our Long Island family raised over $8,000 for the Long Island cycle race. Then, in September we were part of the MSK Kids walking fundraiser. Our team raised and donated over $70,000 to Memorial Sloan Kettering Sarcoma Research. Emily created an at-home charity beading business on Instagram called @memesmotivationalbracelets, which keeps her busy and raises more money for Rhabdomyosarcoma research. We are on track for a complete cure by the end of the spring when I know the grass will seem greener, the flowers will bloom brighter, and the birds will sing more sweetly.

What have I learned? For the long version, you’ll need to wait for my book. For now, gratitude, perspective and motivation are on my mind. I am grateful for having the tools to shift my perspective from thinking about cancer as a death sentence into using a cancer diagnosis as an opportunity to band together and motivate one another to raise money and awareness. Pediatric cancer is extremely underfunded. Without funding, research is impossible, so we are making a difference here.

I have also learned that sometimes the most difficult situations in life ultimately lead to enhanced personal development. In the beginning, we took the time to be still, quiet, and alone. We had so many wonderful people who reached out and offered their help and support. We learned that it was okay to hunker down and care for ourselves first and in time reintroduced ourselves to the world as we assessed our own needs and reestablished new boundaries. We learned to celebrate small victories with each week of treatment and each milestone. We have our eye on the prize of full and complete recovery but until then, we live each day as presently as possible, and we don’t sweat the small stuff. I am grateful for my continued strength and resilience.

For more information about donating to MSK or Meme’s Motivational Bracelets you can follow Emily on Instagram @memesmotivationalbracelets.

To contact Marnie Levy-Smith with questions or to learn about her life coaching program, The Soul Process, please email her at Marnie@selfsoulmate.com

Filed Under: Inside Thoughts Tagged With: Gratitude, Marnie Levy Smith, Pediatric Cancer, stages of grief, support

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