Tag Archives: handling stress

I’m Gonna Need My Wavemaster Punching Bag

10 May

You ever have those I-know-better-than-you people in your life?

You pray for them to just leave you alone and then when they don’t, you wonder why God decided to take the day off.

If it was a friend or co-worker, you could probably stop talking to them and be grateful for caller ID when the phone rings. But what happens when its family? There’s no caller ID buffer for that one, especially if you live in the same city. They’ll find you. 

So you’re stuck having to rely on your Costco-sized Advil for the encounters that await you. You even buy one of those squeaky stress balls. But you choked the life out of that, and it no longer functions. So all you have is some breathing exercises because your Wavemaster punching bag is in storage. Breathing. That doesn’t work for this I-know-better-than-you person. I think I need a Dalai Lama seminar.

Granted you know some people actually do know better than you. You accept it. It’s fact and you have no problem with it because you have faith in their perspective and authority. But these people tend to have titles. If a chef, like Bobby Flay or Mario Batali, tells you something needs salt. It probably needs salt. If a botanist tells you that a particular plant is poisonous, then you should probably stay away from it. If a personal trainer tells you to lay off the ho-hos and do more cardio, then you’re probably gonna lay off the chocolate and run some laps.

But what about the I-know-better-than-you person that  doesn’t know better than you? Age does not necessarily grant you wisdom or I-know-better-than-you experiences, at least not in this case. It doesn’t grant you expertise on all things. It doesn’t make you flawless.

These people are the kind that desperately need erasers and white-out, but unfortunately they’re experts on all things and are never wrong. They need no corrective devices.

So there you are engaging in conversations and arguments that should be avoided. You’re not an expert yourself on anything, by any means. But you do know stuff about your kids and they’re schedule. You spend 16-20 hours with them on a daily basis and you know their personality and routines. You pride yourself on being a good mom. 

So when the I-know-better-than-you person insinuates that you don’t know what you’re doing you get a little crazy. Sometimes it’s true … as a mom, you don’t know what you’re doing, but you do things from the heart and with good intention. So the last thing you want to hear from anybody, especially the I-know-better-than you person whose kids are complete basket-cases, is that they can do better. You tend to ignore their advice and practice those breathing exercises.

Breathing. There’s just not enough air on Earth after that encounter. I’m gonna need my Wavemaster Punching Bag.

Advil to the Rescue

25 Apr

Migraine: Throbbing pain radiating throughout every molecule in my head. I don’t even know if I have molecules there, but if I did they’d be hurting right now.

But I forge on…

Bathtime: Two kids, two plastic boats, one mini scuba diver, three squishy whales, one squishy seahorse, one plastic dolphin, one water blaster, one washcloth, one froggy body scrubber, one bottle of Aveeno bathtime suds, and multiple episodes of splashing.

Aching pain deep down in my skull … down to my cranium and mandible. They’re failing to protect my brain at the moment.

Bedtime: One bottle of milk, two blankets, three pillows, three books, ten “it’s time to go to sleep now,” six “it’s time to relax,” fourteen “keep your eyes closed,” three “take a deep breath”,  two “if you don’t go to sleep right now, no playing with fire trucks tomorrow.”

My eyeballs … my iris, my pupils, my corneas, my lens, and my optic nerves. They are all in pain. They are not helping me see right now.

Clean up time: One pot, three pans, one blender, seven plates, four bowls, four forks, eight spoons, two knives, three spatulas, two baby bottles and all their parts. One bottle of Dawn.

Pain pulsating even to my neck and up to my hair follicles. Hair. It’s so bad my hair hurts.

Image via Advil.com

Night time: One glass of water, one couch, one television remote control that works, relaxing in the dark, and two Advil Migraine Liquid-Filled Capsules  … Priceless.