Tag Archives: stress

An inflated sense of my own importance (and other things that make me unhappy)

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Mannequin, Camden Town

(notice that her tights aren't falling down)

I try really hard to make the people in my life happy.  This is most obvious with all the scheduling, running around and constant tugging at the plans for the day I do.  I think of this constant tugging like I’m wearing tights that keep falling down.  Today is one of those days when my tights have slipped clear on down around my ankles as I try to gracefully maneuver through a crowded party with drinks in both hands and a f*^$@**# smile plastered to my face.  In simpler terms, by trying so hard to make everyone happy, I’m making no one happy.  Along the way, I’ve started the cycle of yelling and then backpedaling. When my oldest daughter asked me what I wanted to do for New Year’s Eve, I couldn’t even answer her because I had no idea.

Of course, now it’s obvious.  I want to drink a very good dry champagne until my conversation is as sparkling and bubble-filled as said champagne.  I don’t know where I’d swill down the bubbly, but I don’t want to have to drive home.  I want to be driven and I want to wear red lipstick.

Instead, I’m planning, planning, planning.  I spent an hour or so on the internet trying to find an option that would make everyone happy.  Instead I feel guilty and resentful.  Everyone agreed that going to Vegas would be great.  (Izzy’s one condition was that she gets to bring her friend Taylor.)  Unfortunately, there’s no way we can go to Vegas.  (Sorry Taylor.)

Scott’s sick.  Amalia is wisely voicing no opinion at this point in time.  I would really like to help Kristina (our Russian foreign exchange student) celebrate New Year’s in a big, splashy way like she does at home.  We just don’t usually do that and all the swanky LA parties are 21+ or sweet deals for families with little kids.  Teenagers who don’t sneak out to drink just aren’t accounted for.  (Thank you Kristina for not sneaking and not drinking.)

So I took to my bed to pout, indulge in a little self-loathing and okay, I admit it–curse them all for expecting to get out and have fun on the holiday.  If they could just all want to do the same thing.  Or be passive enough that they really don’t care what we do.  What do you do when you feel overwhelmed like this?  Is it in the job description that I’m supposed to make everyone happy?  If so, how often? Am I supposed to make them all happy at the same time? In case you have any of the answers to these questions, just know that I’m patiently sitting here, gritting my teeth waiting to hear from you.

Twitt

Working Moms, Stress & Multitasking

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Deborah Stambler & Nancy Pelosi

Me @ work with another mother-- Nancy Pelosi

News Flash!  Working mothers do more work at home and multitask to the point of blowing out their “working memory.” What’s working memory?  Could it possibly be true that women do more work at home than men?  What’s that?  The study says 10.5 hours/week?  See what you think.  Here’s an excerpt of the article from NPR highlighting the study published in American Sociological Review:

A new study in the December issue of the American Sociological Review comes up with some findings that lots of women may feel they already know too much about: Working mothers spend significantly more time multitasking at home than working dads. And those mothers aren’t happy about it.

Researchers from Bar-Ilan University in Israel and Michigan State University looked at 368 working mothers and 241 fathers who worked outside the home. Turns out, the women were on overdrive, with some even describing the hours between 5 and 8 p.m. as the “arsenic hours.”

“The first thing they had to start worrying about is getting dinner, interfacing with their kids, getting done all the housework chores,” says sociologist Barbara Schneider with Michigan State University, who co-authored the study. “You could see from the data all the stresses and strains they felt as they walked in the door, and all the tasks” they felt they had to accomplish during those early-evening hours.

I do actually know a couple of families where the division of labor is pretty equal, but my sense is that that’s not the norm.  The overwhelmed working mother sounds more accurate unfortunately.  This doesn’t touch on stay at home moms.  And I wonder how different the situation is when one parent works from home.  But that might be a different study.  Different chapter from the book of family.

Let’s just say that hypothetically you were fighting with your spouse, husband, partner about housework and childcare, would you pull out the stats?  Would it help your cause?  Prove your point?  End the argument?  Or cause an escalation?

Sorry to cut and paste today, but I’ve got a miserable cold and need a nap very badly.  But chime in on this issue.  Does a study like this make a difference?  Why or why not?  How is it helpful? I’d love to hear your thoughts (especially since my own thoughts seem to weigh about ten pounds each and arise very slowly at the moment).

P.S. I even cheated and used a photo I’ve used before.  But my cough is bad and it is a snap of me working.  So that’s fair, right?

Twitt

Sturm und Drang

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Izzy and I spent lots of time driving each other crazy last week and fighting.  In the calm moments, we tried to figure out what was going on.  Why did we want to kill each other?  We didn’t get the answer right away, but Amalia will verify that this is pretty much how it was.

There were familiar elements of adolescent drama–homework, door slamming, rolled eyes.  Phrases like–’You just don’t get it’ and ‘I’m talking, you just listen’–were hurled with precision and self-righteousness.  I am proud to say that I didn’t slam any doors.

Tentative peace.  Pulling up the white sheet of Izzy’s bed.  A wary, heartfelt kiss goodnight.  Decompressing with my husband the second he walks in the door after a long day.  A couple nights of this and then, voila!, I figured it out.  Izzy was stressed out.

It could just as easily have been me under stress, but this week it was her turn.  In school, her class is doing their sex ed unit.  It’s a very detailed account of the human reproductive system.  She already knew the basic outline of how things worked, but I’m wondering if it’s different having to sit in class with all of your best mates and a bunch of boys to hear the gory details. You know, having to listen and be mature.

I asked Izzy if school was stressful for her.  Ah yes, there’s that look that I remember from when Izzy was a toddler, before she was talking a lot.  It’s the look that spells out an intense relief that someone has not only understood the emotion going on, but named it.  This still works–even on smart, emotionally conscious, almost 13 year old girls.

She’s got a bunch of tests and quizzes coming up.  Math is frustrating and then there’s just a lot of other stuff.  I think sex ed is necessary in school.  I wonder though if anyone’s looked into the potential stress factor.  Stress happens to everyone.  You can’t avoid it.  But you can learn how to handle it.

We decided that what Izzy needed was to slow things down.  Focus more on her guitar and school work.  Make time to lay in bed in read.  Take the dog for a walk.  It helps that this is a long weekend.  Izzy had time with friends without homework hanging over her head.  So we’ll see what happens.  Unfortunately, I have an insane week coming up.

Stay tuned.  I’ll let you know how it all turns out.

Twitt