The Notion of Supermom, the Absence of a Child, and Baking Bread

I have been trying to write an article (for BellaOnline) on the ludicrous concept of Supermom. It is somewhat paradoxical by nature - after all, aren't most moms super moms?  Simply due to the fact that they feed their children (however unhealthily), keep their homes clean (with a very loose definition of clean), and get their children back and forth to all their 'necessary' appointments (well, sometimes we miss a year's well check and sometimes gymnastics is suddenly cancelled when we can't figure out how to get there and get everything else done, and we often skip showering, and sometimes we eat ice cream or cereal or both for dinner…).

But, really, doesn't just being a mom make you "super" in nature? We stretch ourselves in ways we never imagined we could. We do more in a day than we ever thought humanly possible.  We survive temper tantrums and all night vomiting, teen rebelliousness and children who "hate"us.

At the same time, all this super magnificence is frequently overstated and overrated. We've stretched the definition to encompass a schedule that never has any openings. We're not super unless we're doing it all - and what is doing it all? Well, that depends on who you are and how you define it. But, we feel more powerful when we tell others how engaged we are. Our definition and self-worth is defined by how many colorful boxes fill up our iCalendars.

Is this really the definition of super we want to believe in?

In the middle of writing about Supermom syndrome, one of my children has left for a three-day field trip. He boarded a bus at 11:30 PM on a Tuesday and does not return until early evening on Friday. One child down, and the house is incredibly different. The dishwasher - with only one less child - fills up much more slowly. My 'things to do' list is shorter. With only one less child, time and space have opened up where I never dreamed they could . One child. One self-sufficient child who doesn't need me to walk him to school or help him with homework or do much of anything for him. And, yet…

His absence is noted in every minute and in my every action. And, that brings me to the baking of bread. My field tripping son also happens to be a wheat and yeast allergic child. He wants me to make challah using the recipe I make his weekly loaf of bread with. "Ok, I will", I tell him, "but, first, I want to try one more recipe."

And, I try yet another GF challah recipe. First I try it with yeast and then I try it with my "yeast substitute" of lemon juice and baking soda. It's a science, this baking bread thing, and science was not my strong suit. But, I keep trying. So, this week - I am trying a "regular" challah recipe substituting GF flour for the regular flour.

It's not that simple - because, like I said above, baking bread is a scientific process and there are a few other things to consider. Not to mention - I've decided to also try to lower the sugar content of this challah while preserving the sweetness that my family enjoys on Shabbat. I will be swapping the refined sugar for agave and honey.

My first attempt at a gluten-free, low glycemic challah.  Hopefully, I'll get this down and then can focus on veganizing it and bringing it to HaMotzi (right now, it is not made with oat or spelt flour).  My goal here is to see if I can duplicate my standard challah recipe with GF flour.

Recipe
2 1/4 cups warm water*
1 1/2 T yeast
dash of coconut sugar

40 ounces of Bob's Red Mill One for One GF Flour
1 T salt
1 egg
1/2 cup oil (used a canola, coconut, olive oil mix)
a little less than 2/3 cup agave
1/4 cup honey

In a small bowl, put the warm water - the yeast - and a dash of coconut sugar. Stir and let it proof for about ten minutes.

In another bowl, mix the eggs - oil - agave - and honey.

Finally, in a large bowl - weigh 40 ounces of GF flour. Add 1 T of salt. Mix the egg mixture into the flour mixture. When the yeast has proofed, add the yeast mixture to the bowl as well. Mix and attempt to knead. The dough is very different. *I had to add additional water to get my dough working. This was a risk because using the agave meant that I should lower the amount of liquid used (which is why I'm not adjusting the amount of water above but am noting that you will probably have to add more water).

Once the dough is thoroughly mixed, it does come together in a dense ball.  For this test, I took half of my dough and decided to see if it would rise.  I put it in a glass bowl, covered with plastic wrap and a towel, and left it to rise under my kitchen island lights which always provide a perfect warming area for rising dough. With the rest of the bread dough, I used my silicone mini challah pans - scooping the dough 3/4 of the way full (in case it rises and to keep the challot small since even these small loaves are too big for the few GF eaters in the family).  I am baked them for 40 minutes in a 325 degree convection oven**. The reason I put some in the oven without allowing them to rise is that the agave changes the chemical reactions of the ingredients and may not withstand rising.  But, I wanted to test a rise, so I also left some to rise. 

** Because of the agave, you are also supposed to lower the oven temperature because the agave will cause the edges to brown more quickly.

To sum up, I decided to bake bread for the child who is content with the bread recipe we already use. Is that being super or is that kind of un-super? I have messed up my kitchen, ignored the laundry and the cleaning of the house, haven't made my bed yet or completed the phone calls that have been sitting on my to-do list all week….  hmmm.  Supermom, super mom, or just splendidly in the moment of motherhood?

And, the bread?  It's a no-go. And,  I already know which recipe I'm going to try next.

"You can do anything but not everything."  - David Allen

"I see all these moms who can do everything and then I think…. I should have them do some stuff for me." someecards.com

"If you think my hands are full, you should see my heart." found on Pinterest

An Oldie But A Goodie

Just had to review this again….

Ilan and the Blue Paint Pen (life with two boys)

I left to go the grocery store tonight.  The bath was ready, and my husband – David – was bathing the boys while I was gone.  When I returned a short time later, I noticed blue lines on the floor going from the garage door through our family room and into the bathroom where the boys were.  “What’s this blue stuff?” I asked as I walked into the bathroom, “Where’s Ilan?  And, why isn’t he in the tub?”

Aaron was in the tub.  The tub was very full and David did not want to leave Aaron alone (seeing as how we’d already had one scare that night as Aaron had choked on a chicken bone, I understood his concern about not experiencing a near drowning).  Ilan, he told me, would not come into the bathroom.  He was in Aaron’s bed (stealing Aaron’s pacifiers). 

The blue lines, which I soon discovered to be from a blue paint pen Ilan had taken off my desk, COVERED the floor in the boys' bedroom, went down the hallway from their room back into the family room, around and under the kitchen table, through the front hallway and into my office.  Two rooms of carpeting and several of tile were now carefully outlined in blue paint lines.

It was a long night.  Ilan thought he was drawing a street (around the entire house).  He also made some beautiful “I’s” – his best yet, but I have no record of them for his baby book as they were on my office walls.  And, thanks to Grandma Bunny (my mom), whom I called immediately, my husband and I offered a calm, rational and logical consequence (instead of canceling his fourth birthday party, asking him to pay for new carpeting or grounding him from the car until his 18^th birthday).  We woke Ilan up (he was fast asleep before I put this whole puzzle together) and asked him to help us clean the blue paint lines off the tile floors (we did the carpet ourselves since it required more than just a sponge and some water).  Ilan did not have pens, crayons, markers or paints in his possession for quite awhile after that.

The lesson I learned?  Don’t leave my husband home to give the boys a bath.  Send him to the store instead. 

I'm Sorry

For every time I yelled, please forgive me. 
If I raised my voice to teach a lesson, forgive me once.
If I yelled from anger, forgive me a million times. 

If I made you feel like a bad kid, forgive me.
If my words were mean, forgive me. 
If my actions were misleading, forgive me.
If my words cut through you, please forgive me.
If I was not helpful, supportive, or kind, please, forgive me.

If I forgot to tell you how much I love you, forgive me.
If you ever felt unloved, unwanted, or unneeded - please forgive me.

Because I love you as deeply as the depths go. And I want you as hard as I possibly could. And I need you more than any mother has ever needed her child before.

If I ever didn't give you something that you needed, please forgive me.
If there was attention you needed and I didn't give it to you, please forgive me.
If you yearned for my support and I didn't provide it, forgive me.
If there was a toy you needed so badly you would die, well - you're not dead so you must not have needed it.

If I ever neglected to show you my overflowing love,
the immense joy I receive from your presence in my life,
the pride I hold because of the amazing human being who you are...
please forgive me.

If I ever looked past you, said "Give me a minute", or put my own needs before your own - please forgive me. Except for the times that I really needed to take care of mySelf. In those cases, please understand.

Everything I do, I do because of you. You keep me going and make life worth the while. You bring delight and joy, learning and lessons, and allow me to love a little bit deeper each and every day.

You challenge me to grow and be a better person every day. I have a lot of growing left to do. You make me want to strive toward perfection. I am - as of yet - an imperfect human mommy. 

I thank you.
I love you.
You fill my life. 

Please forgive me for all that needs to be forgiven.

Inspiration for the Coming Year

Oh, how I love getting my feet wet in Elul. If you do not know, Elul is a month in the Hebrew calendar that comes prior to the High Holidays. In other words, it is time to get ready.

This year's kick off event from the Women's Jewish Learning Center was just the thing to get me rolling. Elul is a time for self-reflection. It is a time to contemplate the year that has passed - who we are and who we want to be, what we accomplished and what we still have left to do, where we made mistakes and how we can change those mistakes in the year to come.

Rabbi Kanter, as always, said something that really struck me. It fit so perfectly with the Mist of Mommy and with Mommymorphosis, my coaching program that assists moms as they redefine and recreate themselves. The inner work we do during the month of Elul and throughout the High Holidays is not just about our failures.  

A thorough examination of our Selves is not just meant to identify our mistakes, weaknesses, or wrongdoings. It is also essential to recognize and honor all of the good.  This is a brilliant sentiment - especially for moms. 

How overwhelmed do you get when you consider the habits, traits, or behaviors that need fixing? I yell too much; I'm not helping with homework as much as I should; I look at my phone too much and not into my children's eyes; I can't get out of bed in the morning; I don't prepare balanced meals every night; my children aren't involved in enough activities; my children are involved in too many activities…. I could go on and on and on and on….

If we are going to spend time analyzing ourSelves and identifying areas that "need improvement", then we also need to point out the tremendous effort, bits of success, and accomplishments we achieve every day.  My children feel loved; I get everyone to school on time (most of the time); we love having dinner as a family - even if dinner is pancakes and waffles; I don't forget to bathe my children all the time; I handled that tantrum the other day really well; I'm not afraid to reach out to friends when I need help; I learn and grow every day….. I could go on and on and on…

Lesson 1:  Recognize the good (the parenting good) in every day.
Like a gratitude journal, this will help you feel consistently good about your mothering - even when "bad things" come up.

To take this a step further, Rabbi Kanter challenged us with the notion that "we ask too little for ourSelves".  We've moved away from imagining and dreaming about what and who we want to be. We've settled comfortably into a definition of who we are. Rabbi Kanter encouraged us to step outside of that definition and focus on who we can be.

Are you sharing the gifts you were given?  Are you fulfilling your purpose?  Do you know what your purpose is?  This is the time of year when - for the Jewish people - the next year is "written and sealed in the Book of Life".  But, we don't sit back and wonder what is in store for us.  We have the ability, the power, and the responsibility to help write the Book.

Lesson 2:  Spend some time dreaming, imagining, and figuring out what ignites your heart. 

There are four questions we are asked upon our death.  Jewish or not - they are good questions to ponder at the end of each week - the end of each year - and, I suppose, at the end of life.

Here are the generic versions of those questions:
*  Were you honest and faithful today?
*  Did you do something today that will benefit future generations?
*  Did you make time for personal growth?
*  Did you hope?

My Baby is Not a Baby Anymore

I'm watching you, mommies of toddlers. I know it's hard.  It's still hard. Things change, but it doesn't get any easier.

I watch you - with a twinge of envy.  They are so cute.  From their mouths come the most delicious thoughts. And, they keep you on your feet. They're little.  They don't yet know who they are yet or how this world works.  They are curious and sweet and devilish - all in one moment.

It struck me this afternoon - as my 13-year old sauntered by me.  He is taller than me, filling out, and soon (I hope ;) to weigh more than me.  He's not feeling well.  During the past two days of not feeling well, he's calling me "mommy" and asking me to do things for him that I have not had to do in years.

In fact, my 7-year old baby is probably "older" than your 7 year-old big kid. She's been making her own breakfast all year (not on the stove, but she fends for herself).  Her view is "altered" from having three older brothers.  My baby is no longer a baby.

I have noticed things disappearing along the way.  Like having to buckle their seat belts.  And pouring milk or filling water cups for them.  I watch them pick up their own clothes off the floor (No, that's a lie. They still can't do that without a - several - reminders). They don't need me to stick around at play dates or keep a watchful eye on them at the park.

Now, I spend moments at the park pretending not to watch them as I observe how they interact with their friends, each other, and the world around them.

Today, my 13-year old is having a conversation with me about how to treat this nasty cold and sore throat he has going on.  I've made some suggestions, we've talked about if he needs to visit the doctor, and he has decided how he wants to proceed. It's strange to watch him through this new lens.

I was at the park yesterday with our incoming kindergarten families. I felt so old - for the first time in my life. I never feel old.  I like my aging years and am proud of them. But, I am in the next phase of living, and it struck me.

I'm not going to tell you to cherish the time that you have or to appreciate toddler tantrums.  I'm not going to tell you that it passes so quickly nor to make sure you are paying attention to every detail.  I cannot possibly tell you that it gets easier or even that "they'll grow out of it". Sometimes, they don't.

It is what it is.  It's all good.  It's a lot of difficult.  It's motherhood.

What the Fly Teaches Me

I have a strange relationship with flies. It began when I visited the Ghost Whisperer (better known and more respectively known as a Spiritual Intuitive). During my session, she hesitated before saying - "I hate to ask you this, but do you have a fly infestation?"

What's strange is that I did have a fly infestation. If you've lived in Arizona for a long time, you know that we never used to have bugs. When I first moved here in 1996, we could leave our doors and windows open without worrying about bugs.

That's not true anymore and when I was asked about a fly infestation - that was exactly what I had been experiencing in my home.

Longer and deeper story short, the flies were connected to the energy of a dear and deceased friend. No matter what you choose to believe about such 'whacko' theories - my children and I chose to engage with the notion that Cindy was visiting me.

"Mom, Cindy's here." is what they'd say when they saw a fly in the house. Again, no matter what you believe - this situation had many positive benefits in our family. One child, in particular, who would freak out when a fly buzzed in his face stopped freaking out.

Whenever I saw a fly, it was another moment that I could think of Cindy and other relatives who had passed away. It was a moment of reflection on what was happening in my life. It was an opportunity to breathe and relax during otherwise difficult moments - like, if I was yelling at my children for something.

So, no matter the Truth, we have welcomed the fly into our home and we have embraced the interpretation of what the fly's presence means.

So, almost three weeks after back surgery - and still in a position of laying around most of the time (there is a month of no prolonged sitting or standing, wearing compression socks, walking around the block when it's not so hot, etc.) - the fly has come for a visit.

Hopes have been high; recovery has been good; my eagerness for the next phase of healing has been unbounded.

And, then I was diagnosed with Shingles. This is not an uncommon occurrence after surgery when your immune system is already compromised. My breakout has occurred on my face - my chin, near my mouth. It is painful (Though, hopefully, I caught it soon enough that it won't be as excruciating as it can be.) And, you can't catch Shingles from me - but if you haven't had chicken pox or the vaccine for chicken pox - I can help you out there.

This is a day of rest and relaxation - more so than the last couple of weeks have been. A minor step back. But, not really a step back - just a realization that rest will help my body heal and, since we are stuck in the house, it might as well be a watching movies day.

As I'm laying there - reading a book on EFT (tapping) for pain relief that I have the honor of reviewing - a fly buzzes in my face. I jerk - a motion that I haven't experienced in a LONG time. And, the first reaction is fear. I can't do that. I'm going to harm myself. I'm going to re-injure my back. I'm supposed to be calm, still, and take it easy.

A few minutes later, it happens again.

And I turn the buzzing fly into a message from Cindy and my grandma. I am surrounded by love. It is ok. I am better than I was and I will continue to get better than I am. I am strong. It's all good.

As I left the room to come write this on my computer (where I am SITTING - something I hadn't done in months before the surgery), there was the fly sitting peacefully on my nightstand - guarding me (?), watching over me (?), reminding me (?)…..

It doesn't really matter what it really is (a fly annoyingly living in my house) or what you believe or what I believe…. because I have attached a new meaning that is comforting, hilarious, and helpful.

One Strong Woman

My peace with surgery.

I was told I was 'one strong woman'.
I took that as - unbelievable that I dealt with this for so long.

I visited everyone I could think of, everyone anyone suggested.
I went to the Founder of the Naturopathic college. He asked if I was afraid of dying on the table. I told him I wanted his guidance in helping my body heal on its own. He told me he'd help me after I physically fixed the problem. This was bad.

I was trying to avoid surgery at all costs. I was an advocate of avoiding surgery at all costs. I still am.  

I went to a medical intuitive. She performed spiritual surgery - with the help of a deceased physician she channeled. Don't ask. But she totally knew about the physical problem from meditating on my chakras. I didn't tell her what was going on.

I had months of physical therapy - GREAT physical therapy. From two different physical therapy centers (insurance changes in the middle of this year) It helped, frequently. But just didn't sustain for the long haul. And, then when I had a relapse, they referred me on.

I went to a fabulous neuromuscular therapist (if anyone needs a referral, I highly recommend her) who told me that if - after a few visits - we weren't seeing any improvement, something else was going on. I kept going to her anyway because there was such relief after my visits. They just didn't sustain.

I followed an anti-inflammatory diet. I used tapping. I journaled. I followed the John Sarno philosophy - the unfortunate problem there was that I was unable to physically move and moving and being normal is part of his treatment. But, then I read his book again, and I fell into his "exception - see doctor" category.

I tried pain management. I tried resting. I tried to try yoga. I couldn't move, most of the time. I thought of alcohol and I contemplated moving to Colorado.

And, then I went to a doctor recommended by a friend. This doctor had helped my friend - and many people - avoid surgery. He is a neuro-spinal doctor. He looked at my MRI. He ordered another MRI to see if there had been any change. The pain management doc told me it looked slightly worse. 

It was time to consider surgery. I love this doc (recommendation for anyone who needs). I appreciate his philosophy on the spine, on treatment, and on health, in general. 

He referred me to the surgeon he thought would be the best one for me. I visited him. I believe in him. 

I'm sure I can spend another couple of years trying to overcome this on my own. I know I did not try everything. There is always something else. 

But, I'm ready to live life again. I'm ready to be there - really be there for my children - and my husband - and mySelf. So, here I go...