parenting

Like a Boss

monday_like_a_boss-381607-1So I have a confession to make to all of you beautiful people: Last week when I posted Monday is for Lovers, I was sitting in bed in a 1900 Tequila T-shirt with a cold cup of coffee and a sick child who didn’t want to go to school. I may or may not have cried a few tears as I was falling asleep the night before. I did NOT wake up happy, ready to take Monday as my lover. At 6 AM I had already told Monday to suck it. The misery brain train had left the station: ‘This bad morning will be a bad day leading to a bad week. Everything sucks. I hate my life.’  I know. I KNOW. It escalates quickly, doesn’t it? Because honestly, NONE of that is true.  And that’s when I realized I needed to take the reins and boss myself around a little. It was MONDAY, for God’s sake. You know, Monday? Mondays are like a mini New Year’s Day– there’s no place for bad juju! You’ve gotta be a Rock star on Mondays because you’re setting the tone for the rest of the week! You’ve gotta jumpstart the day with energy and good faith and at least PRETEND that amazing things are about to happen. So in that very pathetic moment at 6:24 AM, I knew there was a choice to make. That’s when I opened up my journal app and started to write. I literally said out loud, ” Aahhh, Monday, I’m about to treat you like a lover…” And the rest just followed. I smiled the entire time I was writing, reminding myself with every word that this felt SO much better than cursing the day. So much better than dreading the day. SO much better than choosing to start the week on a low note. I made a decision to choose happy– and the good feelings followed.

I’m not talking about being Suzy Sunshine and Pollyanna and denying the crappy circumstances of the day. Listen kids–I’m SO over and done with pretending that things are okay when they’re not okay. It’s about seeing the crap and deciding to choose happy ANYWAY. It’s about recognizing the choice. You can consciously choose happy as easily as you can choose misery. You’re the boss of your life. You can make it go down however you want. In the midst of that very typical Monday, I sort of kept waiting and hoping for something spectacular to happen since I had worked up such a good vibe.  But the actual beauty of it was that in the normality of work, errands, dentist appointments and our regular routine, I felt happy– and so my kids felt happy. I set the tone for my kids and when I’m okay, they’re okay. When I’m okay, they feel safe. When I’m okay, they feel secure. And for kids–those two things equate to happiness. So it’s really REALLY important for me to be okay. So that very normal Monday WAS amazing. When I made a choice to be happy, we all felt good about life– and that’s a brain train I want to keep riding.

An Open Letter to My Daughter’s Bullies. Including, But not Limited to the Mean Girls.

On my best days, I pray for you. I feel bad for you. I wonder what your home life has sown into you that is now reaping such ugliness. I wonder if your mom and dad know the things you say and do.  Maybe you only have one or the other? Maybe they are the ones you have learned this from? Or would they be shocked and disappointed?  I work hard not to judge them. Would they say things like, “This is not how we have raised you”?

I wonder who’s been mean to you. Have you been bullied too? I remind myself that hurting people hurt people and you are simply acting out of your own pain. I feel a spark of compassion for whatever pain you carry and I feel strangely curious about your internal life–Are you mad? Are you sad? Do you know you’re being mean? Is it on purpose? Do you ever feel guilty? Do you ever feel bad? Do you ever think of my daughter and wonder how she feels? Ever?  You didn’t have to be her best friend–just friendly would have been enough. But either way, it’s your loss. She would’ve had your back. She’s loyal. She’s kind. She’s true. She’s brilliantly clever and creative. And funny. But apparently those qualities aren’t trending these days.

On my worst days, I hate you.

I hate what you’ve done to my daughter.

I hate the way you’ve made her feel.

I hate the things you’ve said and done– all the eye-rolling, the smirks, the huffs and the knowing looks between you and your friends. The outbursts of laughter at her expense. The way you have excluded her. The way you have made someone so beautiful and shiny and precious feel so ugly and dull and worthless. The school day memories you have stained with a thousand tears. Hers and mine. It’s petty and wrong and right on your level-but it’s human:

There are moments when I want you to be bullied

and excluded and hurt the way she has been.  

I don’t understand you. I don’t understand how on earth you have been tricked into thinking your behavior is okay. I wonder where your parents are. I think things like, “The apple must not fall far from the tree” and I wonder if anyone has ever told you, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” And I think about karma. About what comes around goes around. And I think, I hope  you get what you deserve. And then I stop. Because I wasn’t raised that way. Because that isn’t the person I want to be. Because I can’t be the mom I need to be if I’m too busy being bitter and wishing you pain.

But truthfully, most days I don’t have time to let you take up too much space in my head.  The day my daughter came home from school sobbing, literally falling through the door and choking out the words, “I can’t do this anymore”, we decided to home school her. That’s right–even though we pay school taxes in one of the most highly ranked districts around, we home school her. You go. She doesn’t. You’ve made the price not worth the cost. The suicide of a local boy last month and the deaths of other kids your age are stunning reminders that for now, we have done the right thing. We have made the right choice.

We are not hiding our daughter from the reality of life–we are protecting hers. I know you are not the first or last mean person she will meet, but we are giving her a reprieve from you.

The school can potentially keep you from being mean by imposing rules and consequences, by  initiating expensive anti-bullying campaigns and promoting clever anti-bullying rhetoric, but they can’t make you be nice. And there’s a big difference. They can’t make you like her. It’s not their job to sow love and kindness into your heart so that your life will reap goodness and mercy and grace towards others. But along with reading, writing and arithmetic, that is my job. And I take it very seriously.