My younger sister called yesterday. She is in the throws of first trimester pregnancy illness and was telling me about how she had forgotten what it was like until the moment the dreadful flu-like symptoms returned. “How did I forget? I was actually excited to be pregnant again.”
This is her second time around and we got to talking about perspective and how it can change everything. When in good health your normal perspective on making dinner is that it may be a bother or perhaps you’re excited to try out a new recipe and eat the resulting food. But while in a pregnant nothing-in-the-world-is-appetizing state, the thought of preparing a meal for your family by standing over any type of uncooked, non-chopped, needs-to-be-prepared food can send you into a depressive state.
Our conversation started there, with the list of things she wants to eat right now, string cheese. That’s the list. But it led us to a discussion about perspective on many levels. As a mom with young children your perspective on what can get done in a day changes drastically. Making the bed and putting the books back on the shelf may be a tall order if you have an 18-month-old son like mine, whose main goal in life is to see what is behind, underneath, or inside anything within his reach (which has recently expanded to places he can climb by moving the stool or chair next to something previously out of reach . . .yikes!).
We concluded that with each change in life we should take stock and then adjust our perspective and subsequently our expectations. As a mom who chooses to stay home, I have had to define for myself what success is. I can’t go by the standards our society has set. Feeding my children nutritious meals (even if it’s only two out of three for the day) is a success. Getting my three-year-old daughter to put away the dozens of ¼” plastic shoes that come with her princess figurines, without tears (on her part or mine) is a success.
These small successes translate to something much greater. In Heather Bergevin’s eventful “Hour In the Life” , she experiences some of the setbacks and frustrations common to mothers. But in the end she shares that she has learned what she is made of, “not cursing, not yelling, just getting things done and taking care of life, working together as a team . . .” and remembering through an evening in the life of her small family that, “God made love . . .and He also created laughter.” I definitely consider that a success.
Before we said goodbye last night my sister shared her redefinition of marital/material success, “I feel like we’ll be successful if by the time we actually have the money and time to vacation, we’ll still be in love enough to enjoy it.” Amen to that.
What are some events that have caused you to adjust your perspective?
Have you had to redefine what success is? Why?
How do you define success?
Anytime I am sick or thrown out of my routine, I get a really good perspective check! It is usually then that I re-establish my “reality” and remind myself that success does not have to involve all the things I think it does.
Success, for me, involves not much more than smiling every day. (way to set the bar low, huh?)
Success really is just doing the best that you can. I know that sounds like some cheesy poster on a junior high school wall, but it’s true. Knowing what your best is and then doing it is really all we can do. It’s also important to realize that what your best is can change. Chronic illness has greatly changed my perspective on what success is. My best is way different than what it used to be. It’s still my best though, and it’s all I can do, so I’m learning to accept that.
I love that about God creating laughter. I’ve found that laughing through trials has kept me sane. Of course they often aren’t always funny, but sometimes, all I can do is laugh at the craziness of it all. Knowing that you have done your best in life, given it your all, and tried to laugh along the way- I think that is success.
Chronic illness has greatly changed my perspective on what success is.
Amen. For a do-er like me, having health issues that making doing harder than it used to be requires a huge change in perspective. This is what I am learning, little by little: I think we too often measure success based on what we DO. Success in God’s eye’s is what we BECOME.
A good day is one where I feel like my family feels my love, and I feel God’s love because I am connected to Him through His Spirit. That said, I still appreciate days when I can get some things “done.”
I remember one mother’s day a girl in our ward gave a talk about how she knew her mother loved her. Through tears she explained how she hated her thick, naturally curly hair, but appreciated that her mother was available to help her manage it. This had become more difficult since her mother was called as ward primary president and had to be gone for meetings before church. Then she told about how one day mom came home to pick them up for church, and seeing that she needed help with her hair, took the time to help her fix it, even though the family arrived late for sacrament meeting.
My tendency in that situation would have been to rush the daughter out the door to make sure we all arrived on schedule. I think it’s neat that mom was willing to risk the judgement of ward members in order to put her family’s needs first. It may not have looked like successful parenting from the outside, but it made a difference for that child.
In some respects being a SAHM has been really good for me. My natural tendency to is measure myself by external indicators–objectives checked off, goals attained, recognition earned. Having a house full of little kids has forced to be rethink that, mostly because good mothering–at least in the moment–is so often not doing those things that bring external recognition. For me it’s about knowing when to slow down, when to focus on the process and the people instead of the short term outcome. I hope that when my mothering days are over I take that lesson with me to whatever I do next.
“I feel like we’ll be successful if by the time we actually have the money and time to vacation, we’ll still be in love enough to enjoy it.”
Ha! I love this…
To me, success is doing and being, not meeting any kind of standard (sometimes even my own). Success is learning and laughing and loving (much like Heather’s description in her essay). In a worldly respect, I am a failure. No job. No big degrees from prestigious schools. No specific professional skills. But I am feeling pretty good right now because I’m trying, working hard, getting better. Today, I did the “visit 5 grocery stores in one day” spree. And I feel succesful…got some new celiac food for my youngest, didn’t totally lose it with either child, the food is put away, kids fed, now…I just need to shower. Showering would be a step in the right direction. If I could only figure out who can watch my kids so I can attend Enrichment tonight….Hmmm…suggestions?
“Noah mentions that it is times like these that give us the chance to be great parents. I pause to suppress a sarcastic commentary on hours spent watching Moose and Squirrel while husband was MIA. Deep breath. Instead, we laugh hysterically…”
I think that is success! Being kind and letting go of things that could potentially turn me into a very mean crazy woman. After all, the only one (or thing) I can have control over is me. I’m really working on that right now.
And I love the poop anecdote. Our little one once had a poo explosion in the parking lot of Olive Garden. And ironically, we hadn’t refilled the wipes case. So Brandon (husband) ran back into the restaurant and gathered lots of brown papertowels from the restroom. I could tell people wondered why our 1 1/2 year old was standing naked on top of the car truck. And this has become a good memory!
Maralise I’ll watch those little guys so you can go to enrichment. Just stick them on a plane to Texas. I’ll feed them some barbeque(gluten free) and buy them some big hats and boots.
Just kidding, but I wish. I liked what Heather wrote. Things go wrong, but we handle them without cursing, yelling, getting mean. That reminds me of one of my mantras, “We’ll work it out”. I memorized this sentence to have handy whenever a cool response is needed. Fighting, homework traumas, broken things, spills, tantrums, yes even explosive diapers, -”We’ll work it out” is always a good place to start. Many a disaster has been met head-on with those words.
And having it memorized and automatic has prevented me from saying things I shouldn’t before I’ve thought. Sometimes its all I can say… I just repeat it until I get my grips. We’ll work it out, we’ll work it out, we’ll work it out. That’s my secret to success.
Texasgal–We’ve got the big hat and boots taken care of. In fact, my oldest wore that exact combination to pre-school this morning. Can I come with though? I could use some good (with gluten) Texas Barbecue and friendly faces…
We’ll work it out. Note to myself: must start meditating soon (and after I figure out how to do it ;)) and use as my mantra “We’ll work it out.”
Carrie: did Brandon wet the paper towels first? That’s a rough wipe without a little moisture in there. Ha!
I’ll add that when I had three little ones (born in three years) and I was wasted and discouraged with my imperfections as a mom, a friend of mine said: “You are there if there is an emergency, and you haven’t killed your kids. That’s good.” Sometimes success is keeping everyone alive and just being there. On my slow days, I sometimes take that approach in my perspective.
Maralise: As long as you’re coming to TX, come our way too. And no, no extra moisture was needed. It was just that kind of poop. (And I apologize to anyone who hasn’t yet had kids or hasn’t had extended conversations on this topic. After I got pregnant, I found myself thinking exactly like my grandmother–about bodily functions all the time.)
Texasgal: I am going to memorize your mantra. I love it! (and need it.)
Carrie & Maralise, I am glad you liked my mantra. I’m also glad you’re coming to visit me in Texas, with the kids already decked out in proper Texas gittup, oh yah.
Since you liked “we’ll work it out”, I’ll tell you another one I have memorized and keep handy. “Par for the course” That one is used when you are about to load up on guilt (see Justine’s “Guilt” 2006). Late for sacrament with five kids in tow? Par for the course. Leave the oven on three hours after you took dinner out? Par for the course. A little spotty on the visiting teaching? Par for the course. This one reminds me that what I am trying to do in life is hard, really hard and I don’t need to be hard on myself when the results aren’t perfect. Try it, you’ll like it.
See you at the barbeque pit.
Awesome, two new mantras to adopt so I can feel successful more often, “Par for the course,” and “We’ll work it out.” Thanks for sharing those.
I love the poop stories, by the way. A friend of mine, not yet a mother, and one of the older ones in her family, so not lots of poop talk going around all the time with nieces and nephews and stuff asked me at church one day, “Why do parents always refer to their kids poopy diapers as blow-outs? That’s disgusting. We don’t want to hear about blow-outs.” Yes, it is, and just wait until you know first hand how disgusting it can be.
Angie: Thanks for sharing that story about the mother helping her daughter with her hair. Lately I’ve been trying to really consider the why behind the things I choose to do. It’s helping me be less duty bound and more spirit bound, if that makes sense.
Also, love all the comments about becoming and not doing. So true. Reminds me of the visiting teaching message this month, becoming an instrument in the hands of the Lord by strengthening our personal testimony. That’s a nice place to evaluate perspective, don’t you think? From the standpoint of where our testimony is, how our relationship is going with the Savior.