In the comments of blogs and Facebook statuses (stati?) there are wars occurring between mothers.  What about? Parenting choices.  Methods which are accepted wholeheartedly by one portion of the population are considered neglect, abuse or worse by another.

I’m kind of a live-and-let-live gal when it comes to these things, and I have been shocked and awed at the degree of viciousness and vitriol exhibited by these anonymommies online.  Whenever I witness a skirmish, or full-on battle, it sets my teeth on edge.  Intellectually, I understand that the mothers who are railing hard against whatever it is are doing so because they passionately, fervently believe that what they are doing is the best thing for their child and their family.  But it still gets on my nerves.  A lot.  A whole lot.

So while I’ve wanted to write a rant about it for a while, I realized that I would rather write something humorous.  And that is what I did over at Beltway Buzz.  Go, read and (hopefully) laugh:  The Mommy Wars

This is where the music happens. When it's not happening on the computer, that is

Everyone pretty much agrees that music can be extremely potent.  I’ve been moved to tears on multiple occasions (and not even because of hormones, haha).  People have playlists for working out, playlists for yoga, playlists for a bad mood, a good mood, cleaning, and anything else you could probably think of.  Music can move us.

Film can also move us.  I’ve been long interested in film scoring.  An exceptional score can elevate a movie from good to epic (I’m thinking the Empire Strikes Back).  It can transport us to the world of the film, evoke an emotional response long after the charm of the movie has faded (now I’m thinking My Heart Will Go On).

A lousy score can ruin a viewing experience, dragging the movie down into the abyss of mediocrity.  I can’t even think of any examples; they’re that forgettable.

This idea came to me just the other day:  What if I took the same repeated video footage, but placed a drastically different soundtrack behind each repetition?  It sounded like a really fun project, so I compiled some video clips of my erev Shabbos kitchen activity, wrote some music with my Finale program, and with my old-school low-tech Windows Movie Maker program, I created three different “feels” for the same mundane film.

Here it is:

How do the different soundtracks affect your perception of the film?  What feelings do they conjure?  Also, what’s your favorite score of all time?  Or favorite song? 

Just the other day I had one of those blissed-out mommy moments.  The kind where I was enjoying motherhood so much it was euphoric.  My baby was happily babbling, telling me all about the train he was playing with, helping me open the blinds, cheerfully toddling about the apartment, wide grin on his adorable face.

Those are the moments where I want to gushingly post on my Facebook status about how much I love being a mom.

But before I ran to my laptop I thought about a recent conversation I had with a friend.  We were talking about how sometimes being a mommy to little ones is so frustrating that we feel like we want to tear our hair out (or sheitels off, if you like).  You know, the moments where we are pushed beyond our threshold of patience and understanding.  She expressed the sentiment that she feels like she is the only mother who is exceedingly frustrated by raising her children.

It made me think about how there can be an expectation to be a perfect parent, to enjoy motherhood all the time, to not share our frustrations and concerns with our peers.  It’s possible that we don’t share our struggles with other mothers for fear of exposing our vulnerability.

I think that’s a mistake.

About a month ago there was an article by Glennon Melton where she wrote about how she chooses not to carpe diem.  Basically, she acknowledged that motherhood is not all sunshine and roses, and to expect mothers to “enjoy every moment” because “it goes by so quickly” is unrealistic.

Motherhood is FULL of struggles.  Full of them.  Chock full.  To the brim.  Every day.  It’s hard.  It’s not always enjoyable.  It’s mind-numbingly frustrating at times.   Sometimes it’s a whole day of frustration ending with a nightcap of near-insanity.  And the terrifying thing is that my kids are still very small.  There’s a whole world of parenting challenges which I haven’t yet experienced.

Everyone reacts differently to the stress of parenting.  Some mothers tune out, some yell, some get sarcastic.  Some people have shorter fuses than others, some are more controlling, some are more distant.  It’s hard not to judge other parents for their methods of coping with the stress.  There’s such a pressure to do things right, to be the best parent (Here’s a great list satirizing how it can feel like everyone one is a better parent than you are.)

As for alleviating the pressure of trying not to make mistakes, I think of a quote attributed to Gila Manolson:

The mistakes we make as parents are the opportunities we give our kids for working on themselves when they are adults.

What a relief, right?  Most parents I know genuinely have their children’s best interests at heart, and I think most of us have an internal monitor which helps us gauge when we are doing the best we can.  Everyone has their own unique combination of strengths and limitations, and we are usually the only ones who genuinely know when we are succeeding in our struggles.

Like anything in life that’s challenging, the harder the work, the greater the reward.  I’m reminded of a Beethoven piano sonata that I worked on in college (No.30 in E, Op.109, if you’re interested).  While it may seem trivial to compare the responsibility of parenting to learning a piece of music, bear with me here.

This piece was challenging.  It’s one of his late piano sonatas, which are generally more complex than his earlier ones (as an aside, he was completely deaf when he wrote it.  Talk about overcoming challenges!).  It is also heart-wrenchingly beautiful, and I wanted to play it very badly.  However, as it was above my level as a pianist, it took me quite some time to be able to just play the notes.

There were many moments in learning the piece when I would plateau and even regress.  I would have long stretches where I would make the same mistake repeatedly.  It was very frustrating.  But then I would have a breakthrough, and I would be able to play something which had been previously unattainable.  When I was able to play the entire piece, it was a tremendous feeling of accomplishment.  Tremendous.

That’s kind of how I view parenting.  I have a goal, and I have moments where I feel like I’m not progressing, where I feel stalled and frustrated.  Then I experience extraordinary moments of success and growth, and it gives me energy to continue.  I imagine the nachas a parent feels when they see an adult child living happily and successfully must be absolutely amazing.  But the amount of work it takes to get to that point, well.  It’s not a small amount.  But it’s well worth it.

You may also enjoy these:

• Dealing with the guilt of mothering
• Putting our kids’ needs first
• Torah Tuesdays: Making a Mommy
• 6 (practically) free indoor activites to keep a toddler occupied

Shortly after I didn’t get into any of my grad school choices (boy, was that fun), this question led to much reading of Existential works and listening to the Smiths.  It was a crisis of being, for sure.  If I wasn’t on the track to becoming a professional clarinetist, who was I?  What was the purpose of all my studying, all those hours of practice?  What was the direction of my life?  It was dismaying.  Reading Sartre didn’t really help.

When I was becoming frum, my purpose and direction were blessedly clear.  I had a number of tangible goals:  Learn Hebrew, become familiar with the prayers, the blessings before and after meals, the nuances of frum life.  It was invigorating.  I loved it.  Everything was new, shiny, fresh and just waiting for me to learn it.

Then, as a single, eligible frum girl, my purpose was to find a husband, and hopefully start a family.  Sure, I had other goals, and I was very busy working several jobs, volunteering, and studying, but my main focus was on finding me a man.

Thank G-d, things have gone well these past four or so years.  I’m in a good place and have settled into a comfortable routine.  The challenges of keeping a house, raising children and strengthening my marriage keep me very occupied.  I also have a healthy amount of me-time, which I spend blogging, or being musical, or socializing with my friends, be it online or in real life, and also relaxing.

Last night, I listened to the first recording of a class I recently started (it’s a teleconference thing, hence the recording).  It prompted me to ask myself:  What is really the purpose of my life?  Like, if I had to say what I was living for, what my ultimate goal was, what would I say?

It made me realize, with a bit of chagrin, that I haven’t asked myself that question in a while.  I’ve been “too busy.”  Now, I have many very valid busy-making reasons, but I also have a fair share of, shall we say, less valid reasons.  That line between productive me-time and mindless vegetation is a blurry one.  I’m happy to be back in a place where I am again asking myself questions that help me stay focused on my goals and directions in life.

When’s the last time you asked yourself what your purpose was? 

Don’t forget about Tu B’Shvat Shvat Shvat, which starts tonight!   Happy New Year!  If you’re a tree, that is.

Since  13 or so of those hours of sheitel-wearing are on Shabbos, during the week it really feels like I don’t wear my sheitels all that often.  I’m not wearing one right now.  Right now, I’m wearing a comfy, floppy, easy-to-put-on hat.  That’s my go-to head covering for the morning, the evening, and whenever I just don’t want to put a whole lot of effort into it.

There are certain segments of Orthodox Jewry that do not wear sheitels at all, for various reasons.   So they wear other things.  I chose four hair coverings that are the most prevalent in my circles.  Here they are:

Snood

They’re not just for Renaissance fairs.

The word snood has been around since about 725 CE, and they have been in and out of fashion throughout history, making a resurgence in the mid-18oos and again during the Second World War.

Basically, it’s a circle of fabric with an elastic band all the way around the opening. Netted, tatted, knitted, crocheted, or knotted, they typically have a woven appearance.  They can be snug to the head, or hang down a little bit.  Because we want them to cover our hair, snoods worn by Orthodox ladies will have a lining in them.

These are exceptionally easy to throw on, and are the epitome of comfort.  You don’t need to tie them or anything.  Simply pull your hair back into a ponytail bun, pop on a snood and you’re ready to head out the door.

I wore snoods more when I was newly married, but my style and preferences have evolved so that I don’t wear them much anymore (no offense to snoods).  However, any place where there are lots of frum ladies, there will be at least one snood.  Guaranteed.

(historical info from Snood(headgear) at Wikipedia)

Tichel (scarf)

Also known as mitpachot (Hebrew), they can be square, rectangular, and even triangular.  Most of my tichels happen to be square, which is a great shape for tying a “classic” tichel (see video below on what that is).  However, if I want to be a little fancier, or pretend to be a little Sephardi, I will choose a rectangular tichel, which I can tie in a more elegant manner.

You may remember Rivka Malka from her Women Who Inspire Us post a while back.  Well, she is an expert tichel-wearer, and on her website, rivkamalka.com, she has a number of video tutorials on how to tie tichels in fabulous, beautiful ways.  I even got to participate in one, “The Classic,” which was appropriate as it’s the way I nearly always wear my tichels.

Tichels take a slightly higher amount of effort to put on, and so I will don one when I feel like investing an extra couple of minutes in my appearance.  When I do take that time, it’s a great feeling, one of elegance, grace, and a distinctly Jewish style.

The downside of tichels is that when some hair starts sneaking out, it’s a little trickier to adjust them.  Also, when I tie them tightly enough that they stay in place, it can be a bit tight.  When they are tied too loosely, they slip back.  So it’s a matter of finding the right balance.  Sometimes I wear a band (a wide stretchy headband like this) underneath the tichel, which helps keep it on a little more securely, and can also jazz it up.

Hat

These can range from super-fancy (think royal wedding) to super-simple.  I have seen some gorgeous hats on Shabbos, which, if I weren’t a sheitel-on-Shabbos kind of girl, I would love to rock one of those fancy hats.  Mostly, I opt for simple hats.

For me, hats function exactly like a snood.  I put my hair up in a pony bun, throw on a hat and I’m done.  What I like about hats is that I feel like they have a little more personality and pizzazz than a snood, and give me a slightly more polished look without any extra effort.  Also, hats are a more subtle way of covering one’s hair, less obvious than a snood or tichel.

I’ve had success finding hats at H&M as well as at Target.  The only downside with buying a hat at Target is that it’s likely everyone else will have thought the hat was cute, too, and bought it, and then I’m wearing the same hat as 100 other frum ladies in Baltimore.  I don’t like that, so even though Target has some cute hats, I usually pass on the purchase.

Pre-tied

These are a relatively new trend (within the last four-five years, I think).  Basically, it’s a tichel which is, wait for it, pre-tied.  There’s a little elastic strip sewn in the back, and two (or three, depending) little tails that you can tie.  Or not.  I prefer to tie them.  What’s nice about them is that they are as easy to put on as a hat, though they usually fit much more snugly, and hug the shape of the head.

I haven’t had the best success in finding ones that I find flattering.  If they’re too small, it’s like my face is gargantuan and they constantly slip back.  If they’re too big, I feel like it looks sloppy and dwarfs my head.  So, I have one that I will readily put on, and a couple that I will grudgingly wear.  However, many of my friends look fine in pre-tieds, so it must be me, or my head, or something.

Like a snood and tichel, they are a distinctly Jewish hair covering, and I don’t think anyone but Orthodox ladies wear these.

To Sum Up

Those are some choices of non-sheitel hair-coverings.  Of course, if none of those are your style, you could always go for something like this:

it was Purim, people

What’s your preferred non-sheitel hair covering choice?

amazingly, we were able to restrain ourselves from eating them all before Shabbos

I love recipes that are quick, easy and yet look fancy.  This one definitely qualifies.  It was simple to throw together, and the results were just beautiful (and yummy, too).

yield: 12 mini pies

• muffin tin (mine is for a dozen muffins)
• non-stick cooking spray
• 10 sheets Fillo (Phyllo) Dough
• 1 21-oz can Peach Pie Filling (I purchased one without High Fructose Corn Syrup)
• 3 oz chopped Pecans (half a bag, approximately)
• 1/2 tsp ground Cinnamon
• Brown sugar, for sprinkling on top.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Lightly coat muffin tin with non-stick cooking spray.

I use a piece of parchment paper on top of a baking tray as a working surface.  Carefully layer five sheets of Fillo dough on top of each other, spraying the top of each sheet after you lay it down (lay, spray, lay, spray, lay, spray, etc.).

Cut the dough into six squares, and then trim the edges so they are rounded.

Place one rounded square into the muffin tin and lightly press on the bottom and the sides.  Repeat with the other five.

Do this whole process again, until the whole tin is filled.

In a small bowl, mix together the peach pie filling, pecans and cinnamon.  Spoon about a tablespoon into each cup.  I just eyeballed it, really.  Sprinkle a little bit of brown sugar on top.

Bake for about 15 minutes, or until the shells look nice and brown and crispy.

Enjoy!

yummy yum yum!

A few notes:

This recipe was heavy on the pecans, making for a very crunchy dessert.  If you like less crunch, use fewer pecans.  Also, they are probably best served fresh out of the oven.  I stored them in the fridge, in a plastic container, separated by a sheet of parchment paper, and by the next day the dough was already getting a little soggy.  They were still very, very yummy, but if you want crispy, eat ‘em right away.  Or, if you have suggestions about better storage techniques, please share!!

Part of choosing to be Orthodox was agreeing to cover my hair after I got married.  I’m not going to go into detail about the “why” of this mitzvah.  If you’re curious about it, I’m including some linkies:

1. Rebbetzin Feige Twerski’s perspective
2. The Lubavitcher Rebbe’s perspective
3. An interesting personal account
4. Another interesting personal account
5. My friend Ruchi’s take

and a video:

Today I’m going to talk about my experience with my sheitels.

A sheitel, a wig, a faaaaaabulous wig.  The subject of much discussion in Yeshivish circles.  How to wear it, how often to get it done, how long it should last.  Because  of sheitels, I’ve seen grown women duck and cover speedily at the first droplet of rain.  I’ve seen gorgeous, layered sheitels, falling near to the middle of a woman’s back.  I’ve seen sheitels that are the epitome of practicality, with nary a nod to fashion.  Sheitels so expertly blended with real hair that one would honestly never know it was a sheitel.  Sheitels which clearly do not match the original, as a shock of hair reveals.

A brief history of my sheitels

I purchased my first sheitel when I was engaged, and spent around $1400.  It was the first one I tried on, which is great mazel, or so everyone told me.  It was cut and styled beautifully by the sheitel macher who sold it to me, and when she was finished I walked out of her salon with glamorous curls and long, side-swept bangs.  I felt marvelous, I felt beautiful, I felt … anxious.

This was my first exposure to sheitel style anxiety.  From the time the sheitel was styled, I felt a crushing anxiety that I shouldn’t mess up the coiffure, that it should stay PERFECT.  And I felt this anxiety every time I would get my sheitel done.  It was really aggravating.

Eventually, I learned that I should stick with uncomplicated styles, which tend to look decent for a while, and are less disappointing when they “fall.”  Also, I just learned not to take my hair too seriously.  It was not worth the stress.

this was still too high-maintenance for me

About six months or so into marriage, I purchased a second sheitel, a band fall.  This is a sheitel without bangs, worn with a fabric band, or scarf, or whatever.  It’s about half the price of a “full” sheitel (that’s the one with bangs), and I assigned the fall to be my weekday sheitel, saving my full, more expensive one, for Shabbos and Yom Tov.

nice and laid back. and half the cost.

It took me a while before I felt comfortable with my sheitels, but I’ve finally gotten there.  I purchased a new full sheitel when we moved to Baltimore, and I absolutely love it.  It’s very comfortable, not too much body, it wasn’t a fortune (okay, not a fortune for a sheitel), and I got a simple cut which works for me.  I feel like it’s the fruit of four years of struggling with my sheitels – I knew what to look for when I was shopping for one.

Generally, I wear my sheitel when my husband is around, when I want to be incognito, or if I just feel like it would look better with my outfit.  So I don’t wear one everyday, and sometimes I go a couple days without donning one.  Other times I’ll find myself wearing one so constantly that I start to get tired of it.  It just depends.  When I’m not covering my hair with a sheitel, I’m covering it with other things, but we’ll get to that later.

How *not* to let people know you’re wearing a wig

When I was newly, newly married, I worked in a office.  My boss was an Orthodox guy, but I was the only other Jewish employee, and I was basically the only other Jew that my co-workers had any interaction with.  They didn’t know about the whole covering my hair with hair thing.

Eventually, one of my co-workers complimented me on how my hair looked perfect every day.

“Oh, this?”  I said.  “It’s a wig.”  I saw her face quickly turn crimson.  “For religious purposes, um, mumble bleargh….” I trailed off.  I realized that I should probably think of a considerate, intelligent explanation for why I was wearing a wig.  I still feel bad that my attempt at a nonchalant response made her so embarrassed.

One of my other co-workers didn’t believe that it was a wig, so she came up right to my head and inspected.

“No way!  That’s unbelievable.”

Yes, it is a little unbelievable.  Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have believed that I would be covering my hair with a wig, but, here I am.

What I love about my sheitels:

• I don’t have to try hard to look nice.  I can just put one on and BAM!  Instant polish and coif.  I cannot overstate how awesome that is.  The only thing I use my hairdryer and flat iron for is entertaining Little Man.
• I feel comfortable that all my hair is really covered.  With tichels and hats and other coverings, I feel like there’s always some hair peeking out somewhere, and I’m constantly adjusting and tucking the errant hairs back in (I’m sure my tichel-only friends are much better at it than I am).  With my sheitel, I don’t have to worry about it.  With those sheitel clips in, that baby isn’t going anywhere.
• The ability to blend in (unless it’s August and I’m still in long-sleeves when everyone else is in tank tops and shorts).  In locations with scant Orthodox presence, it’s nice to have a less conspicuous option.  Doctor’s offices, DMVs, the airport, you get the idea.

What I don’t love about my sheitels:

• Well, there’s the price tag.  They’re not cheap (though there is a fabulous sheitel consignment business here in Baltimore, and I have friends who have purchased sheitels through gemachs), and there’s not always a guarantee that spending $2K will lead to a good sheitel.
• Someone else has to style it for me.  I tried to do it myself.  Big mistake.  I do not have that talent.  Also, if you don’t like the haircut, it’s not growing back.
• When I’m feeling tired, I can’t really just plop onto the couch.  I’m more reticent to lay my head down on a pillow when I’m wearing my sheitel.  It’s not like I’ve never done it, but it’s just not great headgear for lounging.

At the end of the day, I like my sheitels.  I’m happy to cover my hair with them.  They work for me.  And when they don’t, I have other options, which I will discuss in part two.  Stay tuned!

What do you think about sheitels? 

As of late, I have slacked off to the max on the meal planning.  A combination of energy level, disorganization, and a reluctance to acknowledge that my cooking needs have shifted have made a different strategy a must.  Instead of developing that new strategy, I’ve just avoided menu planning entirely.

And how’s that working out for me?

Not good.  Not good at all.  There have been more than a few nights of scrounging around for something suitable for dinner (not always a successful venture).

Being that there are only nine days left in the month, I think I can handle scrabbling together a menu plan for the rest of the month.  After some contemplation, here are the factors I’m working with:

1. I like to cook, and I enjoy complicated recipes.  I don’t mind cleaning up, but at this moment, I have neither the time nor the energy to clean up a massive mess if it’s not for Shabbos prep.  So, good-bye fancy recipes, for now.
2. We can (and should) do leftovers, and if I can get two nights of dinner out of one day of work, that is fantastic.
3. The slow cooker is my new favorite kitchen gadget
4. I still need to work on doubling recipes for later use.  I also need a second freezer, since the one attached to my fridge is teeny.
5. Wiggle room is something I need.  This means I’m searching for the balance between planning things out (saves time, money and sanity), and being able to improvise (feeds my creative spirit, takes some pressure off planning and shopping).  I’m still working on that part, and any suggestions would be much appreciated.
6. I want to switch my shopping day from the beginning of the week (Monday) to the middle of the week (Wednesday), but am firmly entrenched in my current shopping mindset.  The idea of shopping for the days after Shabbos is just beyond me at the moment, but I’m working on it.

And so, with those musings in mind, and a determination to use easy, healthy recipes, I give you…the plan.

This Week:

• Sunday, the 22nd ~ Leftovers from Shabbos
• Monday, the 23rd ~ Zucchini Lentil Soup (Kosher by Design Lightens Up).  I love this soup, and will freeze whatever we don’t eat.
• Tuesday, the 24th ~ Creamy Chicken and Mushroom Pot Pie (from the February issue of Real Simple).  This actually a slow cooker recipe, and I’m using chicken leftover from a big batch of chicken soup.  I have to kosherize the recipe (it calls for heavy cream with the chicken, a kashrus no-no.  I’ll probably make roux from Earth Balance margarine, flour and soy milk).
• Wednesday, the 25th ~ Leftovers from Tuesday! 
• Thursday, the 26th ~ Noodles with Sautéed Veggies, which I will try to do in the morning as to reduce dinnertime pressure.  We’ll probably also have cheese on the top, ’cause that’s how we roll.
• Shabbos, the 27th & 28th ~ Tuna Croquettes (Kosher by Design Short on Time); Salads (made from random veggies I shall pick up from the store); Heart of Palm; Chicken (I’ve taken to making chicken on the stovetop and simmering it with various sauces and vegetables.  It’s working for us for now), Potatoes (cooked with the chicken).  Dessert will probably be something I cobble together from the fillo dough in my freezer and strawberry jam in the pantry.  And ice cream in case that’s a flop.  :)

Next Week:

• Sunday, the 29th ~ Leftovers from Shabbos
• Monday, the 30th ~ Cheese Sandwiches, but awesome ones with lots of yummy veggies, condiments and on multi-grain bread.  Cut-up Veggies (red peppers, cucumbers, celery) plus homemade dip for a side.  The dip will probably be something along the lines of mayo, olive oil, dill, onion powder, garlic powder, salt, pepper and parsley (basically like the dressing in Quick and Kosher’s Sun-Dried Tomato Caesar Salad).
• Tuesday, the 31st ~ Noodles with Pasta Sauce and Salad.

And that’s where we’ll stop for now.  I’m hoping to make a monthly plan for February.  Will keep you posted.

How often do you tweak your planning?  Have you found your rhythm? 

—

Image via Wikipedia

Do you see that? Squeezed right up by the top.

No matter how fantastic a spouse may be, living with another human being is bound to bring the occasional conflict.  Most of us are probably familiar with the toothpaste tube scenario – one spouse squeezes from the middle, the other from the bottom, and angst ensues.  On the surface, this is a banal and even petty issue, but somehow it can become representative of an entire relationship:

“If you really loved me, you’d squeeze from the bottom!  You don’t value my feelings!  You don’t respect me!!!!”

Granted, this is an extreme reaction, but for some reason, these minor differences can become a point of great frustration in a relationship.  The goal is to keep these small frustrations from becoming Big Problems.  Here are some tools I’ve used to keep things below the boiling point.

Disclaimer:  I’ve been married for a grand total of four years, so it’s not like I’ve got decades of experience here.  That said, this is what has worked in my relationship, and, I think, improved it.  Every relationship is very different, so please feel free to agree, disagree and add your own tips!

Know Thyself:

After I got married, I realized that I was less in touch with my emotions than I had previously thought.  I couldn’t really predict why or when something would upset me.  This was problematic on many levels, and a little embarrassing.

Over time, I’ve learned to tap into what’s really going on in there, to pinpoint why I feel what I feel.  Am I feeling overwhelmed by a kitchen full of dishes, or the pressure of an impending deadline?  I’ve noticed that when I am under stress for any reason, otherwise innocuous habits can become unallowable infractions.  By simply acknowledging that I’m feeling stressed, I become more aware that I’m in danger of blowing things out of proportion.  Just having that in mind has helped immeasurably with keeping my cool.

I’ve also learned to gauge when I need to ask for help, how to ask for it (see below), and how not to feel guilty about it.  Sometime there’s no one else around, so I ask Hashem for help.  This is so effective when I’m in the middle of a frustrating parenting situation and feeling exceptionally aggravated.

Communication:

After learning how to anticipate a stress blow-out, I realized that just because I’m aware that I’m teetering on the edge of my patience does not mean my husband is aware of it.  Not in the least.  It took a little while, but I eventually learned how to say, calmly, something along the lines of:

“Just to give you a heads up, I’m feeling really overwhelmed right now.”

He then knows to give me some space and let me regain my composure so I can be a mentsch.

When asking for help, the more specific I can be, the better.  “Can you start getting the kids ready for bed?” is not as effective as “Can you get the kids into pajamas?”  Also, I try to keep it to one request at a time, maybe two if it’s a natural pairing, i.e. “Would you clear the table and wipe it down?”

Also, it never hurts to communicate how much I appreciate him and love him.  That’s probably the best communication to do, right there.

Eliminate the Problem:

Sometimes it’s possible to sidestep the problem altogether.  When thinking about the toothpaste tube dilemma, it seems to me that one easy solution is to simply use two different tubes.

I used to hang my face washcloth next to the hand towel.  My husband had a habit of using the washcloth, rather than the towel, to dry his hands.  This bothered me.  I tried reminding him, but it didn’t really work.  So instead of being perpetually frustrated, I simply started storing my washcloth in a completely different location.  Problem solved.

Another solution we developed was the result of an amusing, yet problematic phenomenon.  My husband has an uncanny ability to consume food items I have earmarked for a recipe.  Uncanny, I tell you.  After this happened many, many times, I learned to tell him which foods were off-limits (and he learned to ask).  Problem solved.

Let it slide:

Finally, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s just better to ignore whatever is getting on my nerves.  If it’s something that I know is not going to matter in a year, then it’s okay to let it go.  I don’t need to open my mouth every time something bugs me.  It’s most likely better if I don’t.

Also, not bombarding my husband with my seemingly endless list of preferences helps make my genuine requests more noticeable, and probably more valuable.

I had my husband read over this post to make sure he was okay with the info I was sharing.  We had the following exchange regarding the washcloth incident:

Me:  “Do you remember that?”

Him: “Um … no, not really.”

Me:  “Exactly!”

I’m linking up to the January Project Marriage Challenge.  They have a challenge each month, and this month it’s sharing our marriage resolutions.  While these aren’t resolutions, per se, it certainly won’t hurt me to resolve to implement these strategies more often!

You may also enjoy these:

• Your husband is not broken; he’s just a guy
• 5 ways to tell your husband that you love ‘im
• How I met my husband
• Kicking the Habit of Playing the Blame Game

Here’s a musical memory from nearly a decade ago (oh wow).  Enjoy! 

Immediately after I graduated with my Bachelor’s in Music Performance, I found myself in a musically shiftless situation.  I no longer had the benefit of ensembles to play with, and I also didn’t have the advantage of knowing people in town to jam with or having connections at any local institutions (my parents had moved to a different city when I was a freshman in college, so I was a little rootless).

While I found a few impromptu opportunities to play here and there, I wanted, nay, needed, something more substantial than playing with drum circles and at open mic nights.  I turned to my friend, the internet, to help me look for something to satisfy my needs.  I had taken a liking to jazz sometime during my last year-and-a-half of college, and I thought it would be good to continue along those lines.  After a fairly quick search, I found a jazz orchestra.

I called the number and told the man who answered that I was a clarinetist looking for an opportunity to play.  He welcomed me to their weekly practice.  Excited,  I took down the info and looked forward to the first rehearsal.  We would be meeting at a middle school in such-and-such area.

Now, since I was in a new city, I was, for the most part, blissfully ignorant of any distinctions between neighborhoods.  I knew generally which areas not to drive into due to massive amounts of crime, and I knew the stereotypes about the different regions, but beyond that, I didn’t know the nitty gritty of exactly “who” lived “where.”

On the night of the first rehearsal, I was running late (typically, I had gotten lost), so rehearsal had already started by the time I set foot in the building.  Happily, this made it easier to find the rehearsal room since I just had to follow the sound of music.  I made my entrance as unobtrusively as possible for a late arrival to my first time in a new group.

The door shut behind me.  Before me was a group composed nearly entirely of black men in their forties.  They looked at me.  I looked at them.   We paused.

I started, “Hi, I’m the clarinetist.  I’m here to play?”

The band leader replied, “Does your Daddy know you’re here?”

I laughed.  They laughed.

He showed me to my seat where  I assembled my clarinet.  I received a music stand and some music, and then rehearsal resumed.  The tenor sax player I was sitting next to must have been in his seventies.  I found out later that he had played with some of the big names in jazz.  I was on music cloud nine.

The guys were fabulous to work with.  They were seasoned enough to rehearse efficiently, yet in a laid-back manner.  I felt totally welcomed and included by everyone there.  They were a wonderfully warm and down-to-earth group.

After a few weeks of playing with them, they lent me a tenor sax to play in addition to my clarinet (no, not at the same time).  Oh, how I loved playing that instrument.  When I blew into it, my whole face would vibrate and feel tingly.

At some rehearsals we would do a warm-up where the ensemble played some basic blues chords, and each member took a turn to improvise for 8 bars or so.  One day, when it got to my turn, I closed my eyes and let myself just play what came to me.  I tried not to be nervous, but to channel that energy into my music, and to just go with whatever came to my fingers.

When I was nearly done, I heard the band leader and some other members saying,

“Mmm hmmm, yes ma’am.”

I felt like I’d arrived.

I only played with the group for a little over six months, but it left a strong imprint on me.  We played a number of gigs around town, and I was always wonderful.

I’m not sure if this is necessarily a new phenomenon, but today it’s very easy to surround ourselves with people who are similar to us, both in demographic and opinion.  There is incredibly fragmentation within the media, so it’s possible to only receive news from a source which is in agreement with our views.   Online, it’s possible to only interact with people who agree with us, and won’t be critical of any decision we make.  It is definitely easier to interact with people with whom we have much in common, but it is not necessarily better.

Without interacting with people who differ from us, we lose an oh-so necessary opportunity to think critically of our own views and opinions.  If we never have to defend our own opinions (even if that defense is only to ourselves), we lose an opportunity to strengthen our own beliefs.  Disagreement doesn’t have to be unpleasant.  It can be civil.  It can be healthy.

The memory of playing with that jazz orchestra reminds me of how wonderful it can be to interact with people who are coming from a different place.  When we do it, we may just remember how much we all have in common.