Mama Self-Care Archives - Kara S. Anderson

A beautiful, imperfect heart (on clarity and accepting ourselves)

June 22, 2020 by [email protected] 2 Comments

My soul sister Kortney gave me a beautiful gift recently – a polished quartz heart.

I don’t know a lot about stones or crystals, but I can tell you about this one: It’s heavy in my hand. Heavier than I expected, I guess. It’s perfectly smooth, and a sort of cloudy white with little sparkles that catch the light, like an ice cube that’s been soaking in a drink on a hot summer day.

The card that came with it said that quartz helps us connect with our clarity and find our way; and truly, finding my way has been a struggle of late. I think there’s been too much time to ruminate.

And so sometimes, I pick up the little heart and just hold it and breathe.

I know that sounds a little new-agey, but stick with me.

Holding my heart

The other day I was holding my heart – the quartz one – and I started looking into its depths.

I have to tell you – it’s kind of a mess in there. Fissures all over – up and down and left to right. I could handle them better in one direction.

If you hold it up to a window, light shines through the top and the bottom, but the middle is a little murky.

One line stretches across the whole thing – if I was trying to break it open like a coconut, I’d start there with a sharp implement and a hammer. I bet it would take one tap for it to split almost cleanly in two.

Then there’s the flecks. Close to the surface there are little brown speckles, almost like something got trapped in there.

Silicon + oxygen + spatulas

I tried reading a little about how quartz is made, and that’s just a hot mess.

Wikipedia says quartz is a combination of silicon and oxygen atoms, but literally, so is a lot of cookware, so that gets me nowhere.

I wanted to know if quartz was igneous, sedimentary or metamorphic because that’s what I remember from classifying rocks and gems, but it turns out quartz can be any of the three.

I wish I could ask my professor from college – a warm and caring man who wore plaid shirts and jeans to class each day, but what I remember is that after taking two classes with him, he retired to a cabin in Wisconsin, and I cried that he wasn’t going to be around anymore.

(That’s actually not all I remember. I remember confessing to him my non-traditional path through college, and him looking into my eyes and telling me it didn’t matter. I remember he made me feel safe; accepted.)

Both/And

And so I’m back to what I can see and feel – an absolutely perfect heart filled with imperfections.

How can it be both?

How can we be both?

I guess I’ll start with the fact that we’re not little babies, and so we’ve had time here and the world has beat us up a little.

Plus, we make mistakes. Every one of us. No matter how well intentioned we are. No matter how good our parents were or were not to us. No matter how hard we try.

And most of us, the moms I know – we try incredibly hard.

And then there’s that whole knowing what’s right and wrong thing.

Sometimes, it’s very simple, but lately – things feel messy and nebulous.

Clarity + imperfection

But I will say that this morning, my quartz heart is doing its job. It’s bringing me some clarity, and this is what I’ve come up with:

You can have a beautiful, but imperfect heart.

Things happen. They leave battle scars. In the case of my quartz heart – there’s that line – something could have broken it once, but it didn’t.

In fact, I’m convinced, if I threw this heart at my wall right now, it would be fine. I can’t say the same for the walls of this little 1926 Craftsman.

It reminds me of Mary Oliver, and the start of one of my favorite poems, Wild Geese:

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

We try. Lord, how we try.

And meanwhile our hearts wait for us to stop, and listen.

SOME RESOURCES FOR CONNECTING WITH YOUR HEART:

Brené Brown’s Podcast

When Things Fall Apart

The Gifts of Imperfection

Mary Oliver: New and Selected Poems

Tara Brach: Sheltering in Love series

This post contains affiliate links.

Living in the what-if

June 15, 2020 by [email protected] 7 Comments

I recently listened to an author talk about how all fiction books begin with the idea of what if …

Oh! I thought. I should be writing fiction! Because I am really good at what if.

The problem is my what if is ruled by my anxious brain, and currently, that brain is in overdrive, asking constantly, What the hell do we do now?

Because I don’t know about you, but to me, everything feels shaky and unclear, and now we’ve seen that something that we really only thought Michael Crichton could dream up can happen.

It’s still happening.

Cue the dinosaurs.

Groundless

No one really knows how to deal with it, but for a while, there were stricter rules. I really liked that, actually. I knew exactly what I was supposed to do.

I am a recovering good girl. And I’ll tell you, almost nothing has been as hard as getting over disappointing people, but this is all right up there.

The minute restrictions lifted, I felt like there was no ground anymore.

I stayed inside more. My anxiety became worse.

Decision fatigue

It was the stress of a million little decisions. Can we go to a restaurant? Should we eat outside? Inside? Should we wear masks? Should I hug my mom when I see her after three months, even though she works as a nurse in an assisted living facility and her residents are at high risk?

According to Emily P. Freeman, it’s estimated that adults make 35,000 decisions a day.

And that’s not factoring in the health of the whole planet.

So one lunch, and my back was so tight on the way home, I could barely breathe.

But what about a plan?

But as the world opens up, I also feel like I’m supposed to move forward – that I need a plan. The summer is slipping away …

Usually, summers are a lovely time here. We go to the pool a lot; read a lot; and get ice cream a lot.

The pool is closed, the library is closed, and Dear God, please someone tell me exactly how to feel about a teenager scooping ice cream for my kids.

I need a guidebook, or at least a list.

JOB DESCRIPTION: Covid Mountain Guide

Looking to hire responsible, knowledgeable guide for outside activities during worldwide pandemic. Must be non-smoker.

Too much

It all feels a little like my yard.

Let me explain.

Recently, a neighbor came over and shouted across the sidewalk to my husband. He was friendly – it’s just social distancing …

He told us that we live in what the neighborhood used to call The Manson House.

(Googles: “Bulk sage.” Googles: “Priest for hire.” Googles: “How to sell a house during a pandemic.”)

Apparently, a creepy dude lived here for many years. No one knows what happened to him.

And then the “Chicago Folks” moved in. I can only imagine they were two Enneagram 7s, completely unchecked by realism or their wings.

So our yard is a little bananas.

Last summer, I mentioned to another neighbor that I felt like along the fence, the “Chicago Folks” took one of those bulk bags of wildflower seeds and just dumped the whole thing.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what happened. I saw it.”

Our whole yard is like that. It’s overgrown and intimidating. I have no idea where to start.

I keep wanting to ask someone to come here with the right tools, to do a reset. I guess that would be a landscaper? A gardener?

JOB DESCRIPTION: Mental gardener

Looking to hire responsible, knowledgeable gardener to prune my anxious mind. Must have access to proper tools to reset the hot mess in there. End result must be smooth, manicured brain. Flexible hours.

I guess what I’m saying is that I feel terribly unsure, and terribly responsible at the same time.

I think I need to be a little more patient.

And I probably need to dump some heavy expectations.

You too?

P.S. I was on my friend Celeste’s podcast this week talking about When It All Feels To Heavy. We chat pandemic stress, Covid-schooling, mental health and my book.

This post contains affiliate links.

Books to see us through

June 11, 2020 by [email protected] 10 Comments

I remember when I got the email from the library that they were closing due to the pandemic.

That was when I knew I was in trouble.

I could figure out how to find toilet paper. I could make do with weird food.

But without books – that’s when stuff got real.

I immediately looked at our budget and decided any free penny would go to books. Even some not-so-free pennies.

I bought used when I could. But I also put books in my Amazon cart because books help me stay balanced.

My Mama Morning Basket

I also reinstated my morning basket.

I first created a mama morning basket several years ago – it was just based off of the homeschool morning basket idea of collecting nourishing resources in one place. But instead of books to read with the kids, I filled this basket full of books and resources for me.

Now before I get any further, I want to say that my kids are 13 and 16. I have time. Especially since the pandemic, my kids basically sleep like hamsters. So if you are a mama to young ones reading this, saying, “I wish I had time to tinkle alone, let alone read for the simple joy of it,” I get it.

I remember those days and all I can say is that they went by in a blink, although at the time each day felt like it was about 6 weeks long.

I don’t really have a format for my morning basket but it always contains a good non-fiction book, some poetry, my Bible and other faith resources, journals, pens and book darts.

I also don’t always go through everything every day. Some days, I spend most of my mama morning time listening to a meditation or audio book and barely touch it at all.

But it’s there when I need it.

My Mama World War II books

The other thing that has helped me through this pandemic has been World War II era fiction.

I kept mentioning this in various places – on Instagram, on The Homeschool Sisters Podcast. Even here and here.

But then people would ask me what I had read and I could never remember titles or authors.

So I finally made a list.

I think it will continue to grow, because World War II era fiction is providing a lot of comfort right now. Something about all those heroines, handling crises with dignity, compassion and even humor is very reassuring to me.

My World War II books also help provide a lot of perspective. Although we have dealt with some food shortages, it never got dire. And after reading 84, Charing Cross Road, I became suddenly grateful that a pantyhose shortage will never be an issue for me. 😉

So I’m wondering – have you been reading more since the pandemic? What’s bringing you comfort right now?

This post contains affiliate links.

Our school year fizzled – now what?

May 28, 2020 by [email protected] 8 Comments

Dear Kara,

I guess our school year is over. Honestly, it just kind of fizzled. I couldn’t find it in me to really celebrate or anything, but the kids are glad to be done with school, and it just seems like time to move on.

I’m worried, though. My kids missed classes. Our co-op just ended one week and never restarted, and this has been hard so that we didn’t finish our math curriculum.

So what do I do? Do I start where we left off in the fall? Do my kids begin in the grade they were in all last year and move on in October or November? Or should we just homeschool through summer?

– Love, M

Dear M,

You sound tired.

I don’t say that in a mean way.

Sometimes, when I don’t wear concealer, people tell me, “You look tired,” and I want to shout: BECAUSE I AM.

ALL MOMS ARE.

STOP COMMENTING ON MY LOOKS AND BRING ME A CASSEROLE SO I CAN TAKE A NAP.

So when I say you sound tired, I’m not judging. You deserve to be tired.

I think this year, especially, we all feel like instead of chugging to the finish line, we had to pull the broken train behind us like solo sled dogs.

We’ve arrived at the end of this race sweaty and exhausted, but that’s kind of normal for homeschool mamas.

Only this year – this year we also dragged fear and overwhelm and worry that we didn’t do enough with us as we crossed the finish line.

Everything continues to feel heavy and burdensome. Friends and I have been talking this week about how tiny things feel so hard. I placed an Amazon order last week and got two of the same book, the wrong size phone case and a screen protector for my watch that was so irksome I just gave up and shoved it and everything else into a box to worry about later.

Can I make a suggestion? I think that’s kind of what we need to do with this school year.

I think we need to put it in a box for a bit. Or maybe a closet. And then we need to step away.

You’ve probably learned A LOT

As I write this, we’ve been at home here (Illinois) for 77 days.

And during that time, we’ve all been forced to learn a lot.

We’ve given haircuts and made cleaning supplies and inventoried our pantry and tracked virus stats and baked bread and figured out how to do everything online, from therapy appointments to classes to bank deposits and shipping.

We’ve celebrated Easter and three family birthdays and Mother’s Day, and tried to navigate how to make those special in a pandemic.

We’ve bathed our groceries and sprayed door handles and maneuvered long-distance health care for a loved one, and tracked down obscure medical supplies and masks and made do.

My World War II ration book. I got it from Ebay.

Making do is a whole lesson unto itself, and led us in a direction of studying World War II and rationing. Meanwhile, I’ve been engrossed in World War II fiction myself because every book I read set in the Blitz reminds me of how strong we are as humans, and that we can deal with big scary things with humanity and kindness.

So honestly – I’m going to say it – I’m sick of learning.

Cash in your chips

Learning constantly is exhausting.

It’s so tiring that we bought a rice cooker, and my daughter figured it out and makes rice all the time now, and I still don’t know how to work it. It’s not complicated – you just add the right amount of rice and water and push a button, but this is the point I’m at.

I’m done. I’m cashing out. Please meet me at the buffet where I will be eating 7 different deserts.

So M – this is what I say to you:

Take a breath.

For a little while, stop the hustle.

Put everything school-related in a closet and tell yourself you’ll check back in a month or two when you feel like a person again.

If this feels scary – remind yourself – you are not the only one whose school year went drastically off the rails.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I were out walking and we ran into an acquaintance of my husband’s who is a high school teacher. My husband asked how things were going with distance learning:

“Half the kids don’t show up, and the other half can’t pay attention anyway. And because the governor recorded these as Act of God days, we can’t penalize them for not showing up or doing the work.

“But,” he said, pointing at his bike, “I’m finally getting in shape.”

A homeschool mama makes these lovely candles. Find her here: https://www.instagram.com/pinehill_candle_co/

A minute to just be

And there you have it, M.

As things start opening back up around the country, we have a lot to process. Families are grieving. People are still scared. There is a lot that’s still unknown.

In fact again, as I write this, this is what I know: William and Kate will not be sending their kids back to school!

But here’s what I don’t know: How England’s school year works.

And again, did I mention, I’M TIRED OF LEARNING NEW THINGS RIGHT NOW.

So breathe with me, M.

Take a minute to just be.

You can’t effectively plan for the future right now. You can’t change the past few months. If anything, this has shown us that trying to control everything is a little fruitless, right?

Hug your kids. Do what you can. Be good to each other.

That’s all I’ve got.

But maybe that’s all we need?