| Just call me "Mommy Martyr" |
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by
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In a previous column, I reminisced fondly about the carefree life I led before marriage and kids; about how my alter ego, "Fe-Fe," who once enjoyed dancing, shopping and Rollerblading, had gotten lost somewhere in the shuffle of play dates and PTA meetings. Full disclosure: I was in the midst of a pity party when I wrote all that. I was wondering: (1) if my 1-year-old would ever stop her full-blown tantrums – complete with screaming, kicking and rolling around on the floor; (2) why I couldn't control the fights between my 6- and 4-year-old girls; (3) whether my husband and I had made the right decision about my staying home; and (4) when and if I would ever again have some time to myself. A few readers thought I sounded regretful about making those sacrifices. For the record, I'm not. I was just trying to figure out how to balance my needs with those of my family. Phyllis Allen, a reader from Fort Worth, had plenty to say about balance, which was the subject of her e-mail to me: "The new age parent becomes so focused on their child that they tend to make two mistakes: They don't let the child experience life (good and bad) independently; and they, the parent, become a 24-7 chauffeur, cook and laundry woman. "Parenting is like any other job," she says. "It should never be 24-7. If it is, then either you've got too d--- much work or you don't know what the heck you're doing." Miss Phyllis, as I call her, went on to say, "You may never dance the night away again, but if you do it right, your children will grow up, leave home and lead productive lives without your constant oversight, and then Fe-Fe can come out and play whenever she ... feels like it." She was right about one thing: I had been too busy becoming a Mommy Martyr. You know the type: She complains about having to do everything, gets upset when nobody notices and gets even angrier because, though nobody asked her to do anything, she does it anyway and puts her own plans on hold. While the previous column was about the past, I'd told Miss Phyllis and other readers that, my rant over, I would now focus on the future and how I plan to reach that elusive state of balance. First, relinquish control: I now know I can't control what my kids do, but I can try to curb their behavior. The older girls, for instance, are just doing what comes naturally to siblings. I won't let them have knock-down-drag-outs, but I will overlook their spats about who brushes her teeth better. As for my typical toddler and her tantrums, she gets the I'm-not-pleased-with-your-behavior look and then I simply walk away. Ask for "me" time: You'd think that would be a no-brainer. It drives my husband nuts when I don't open my mouth to say what I need. But remember, most martyrs won't ask. Actually take the "me" time: My other mom friends and I fall into this trap often. We complain about needing time and then when the opportunity arises, we don't take it. Either we have grown too accustomed to not getting a break, or we just like to complain. So we started a baby-sitting co-op. That way, we can retire this lame excuse: "I don't want to spend money on a baby sitter." Make my getaway enjoyable: My sister, who is 10 years my junior, practically berates me for being boring. For my birthday, she had firm orders: "You better do something F-U-N!!" Hanging out at Target didn't count, she said. So far, I've had a few outings with my mommy friends, sans kids, and we plan to do more. Just say no: The classic martyr tries to do it all; it makes her feel important, you see. The things that I don't have to do, I won't. Shift my focus and relax: Another symptom of the Mommy Martyr is that it's all about her. But rather than focusing on my lack of time alone, I'll try to be more chilled-out about it and know that it'll come soon enough. In the meantime, I can enjoy my family more. Count my blessings: It's the quickest way I know to break up a pity party.
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