{comparing & complaining}

I had plans to share a really yummy banana muffin recipe I made over Christmas break for my 2 year old nephew today. He loves bananas. Matter of fact, he adores bananas almost as much as he loves the "backheyn" {his word for vacuum}. But this morning something turned in me. I'm sitting here smack dab in the middle of ridiculously sour and exceedingly perplexed from social media & observations from everyday interactions a wee bit too. As these emotions waller my innards, I feel compelled to rid myself of them swiftly along with their evil encapsulating venom. So I am flipping the good heart switch of my "backheyn" to ON and sucking up the crumbs I call comparing & complaining. The filthy life is not for me.

Unwinding the cord and on my way to the outlet, I'm kinda twitchy and broken. Like shards of glass that are crunchy and becoming a bit more slivery under my feet. Only that's my inside status. There's this urgency about me to hurry-clean my way through the mess of which encases me.

And it's as I open the "backheyn's" canister to see if it needs emptying before I commence housekeeping, I realize there's just a smidgeon of me that might be a part of this soiled wreck. Erratically, I moan an exhale of even more disgust and increase my motives for clear space.

I don't want to be compared anymore. I don't want to hear complaining anymore. I don't want to be the complainer or the comparer, nor do I want to feel infested by another's resolute unending passion of "poor ole me".

How's that for my first push-pull across the floor?

Life hurts. Life is living. It's choice and sometimes it's not.

There are people without food and water. In.this.world. There are little ones alone and sick. In.this.world. There are mothers grieving. Babies prayed for by hopeful moms who aren't quite certain their womb will ever grow. There are people fighting for life and for second chances and for paychecks. In.this.world.

Air surrounds us. For breathing. For gulping if we wanna. The kind of inhaling that tingles your temple and tightens your abdomen it's so deep & pure. New mercies are ours. Everyday. In the rising of the sun. In our hands and how we extend them as heartbeats to ourselves and others. There is opportunity. In.this.world.

And I can no longer stand for the Mommy woes. I can only tell you that if you are one, make the most of it. Rest when you can. Lift up other Mamas when you can. Invest in your children. Take breaks when you need to. But STOP COMPLAINING about them and your role. There is power in the who they are now and the who they will become. And you have a hand in that.

Who cares if you can't go to play group or can only afford one meal out a week. Who cares if you wish you could be a size 6 when you're naturally a size 10. STOP COMPLAINING about something that you're not. STOP COMPARING yourself to others. And start living with who you are. In the choices you make. In the attitude you live out. In the legacy you are leaving to the little ones under your feet or perhaps the big ones by your side.

It is here where I cling to the simple proficiency that is parenting. When a child is throwing a fit or in the wrong behavior, as mothers, we correct them. Typically with swiftness. As in, there's not a long drawn out drama procession of why they're not {insert one of the following}:

Getting the sucker they want.
Acting completely like a monster
Bullying another child
Being rude or disrespectful
Not living up to their natural potential

The behavior is addressed, discussion follows, consequences or guidelines are exercised and life moves on. Repeating these expeditious steps as necessary with the goal of learning. Of rising above bad habits. Of growing in good character and confidence.

I am not quite certain why we feel above this kind of re-direction when we enter adulthood. It would appear many women feel it's okay to wallow in our "what-if", "woe is me" and "wish I was her". And to this I say, ENOUGH. To the comparing. To the complaining. To the self-pitying. I am chosing to "backheyn" this mess up around me. I am hoping this impromptu Jillian Michaels-esque post might encourage you to do the same.

Womanhood and community is one thing, but when all we're really doing is secretly check listing ourselves against one another only to whine later about the proverbial sucker we didn't get or better yet, artificially boost our ego with the bullying we woman are so masterfully known to do:

Oh, ________. You look so tired.
My husband would not get away with that in my house.
I don't know how you stand being with your children all the time.
You always have it together. I mean just look at you.
Well, bless your heart.

Then that's not community at all. That's an ugly war zone.

I think my canister is officially full so I'm switching to OFF. I know it has not one ounce of compassion inside among the sour, soiled & dirt. For compassion thrives in the carpet ripply and smooth. The kind you scoot your bare feet through time & again. The kind that doesn't need vacuuming. With fibers intertwined & fluffy, it comforts you. And rest comes with comfort. Back & forth, repeating these expeditious steps as necessary with the goal of learning. Of rising above bad habits. Of growing in good character and confidence.

Yep, my nephew's "backheyn" and I are done here. Stay tuned next week for that yummy banana muffin recipe.