Bright Light Mama

claim your light

Dumber, better mornings.

Better, dumber mornings.

A little over two weeks ago, I read an article on Hands Free Mama that made me pause. It has a great, catchy title: Break This Morning Habit to Create More Time & Goodness in Your Day. That sounds good, right?

Can you guess what the habit was?

I think I already knew before I even clicked through, but reading on–seeing all the “goodness” that could fill my day instead–hit me squarely in the heart. In the best way.

So I decided that the next morning, I’d follow through: I’d turn off my alarm, and get up without checking my phone.

Smart-Phone Sober Mornings

Have you tried this mama?

Ugh. It is a nasty habit to break.

I don’t think I realized how compulsive I felt about my tablet until I laid in bed not looking at it in the morning. It was like a bad (REALLY bad) chocolate craving. The more I tried not to think about it, the more tightly my mind insisted that I needed to start my day with a little internet catchup.

Just check my email.

Or, okay, facebook?

And I mean, really–somebody probably emailed me. Maybe just now. Like again.

It’s probably urgent.

Think I was tagged in anything on Instagram overnight?

But I’d promised myself not to, so I stuck to it!

Got out of bed and started my day.

Mama: It. Was. GREAT.

I felt lighter.

Smarter without the Smart

And, not to be ironic, but I actually felt kind of smarter without the smartphone, too. Because my brain wasn’t filled up with junk.

Have you ever thought about how much information we take in when we flick on our screens?

Advertisements, sales, new wonderful must-have products and freebies (I’m looking at you, Shutterfly) filling up our inboxes and sidebars.

Emails with problems we can’t deal with but will stew over all day long until we can deal with them.

News about everybody and their mom (literally) flashing up on facebook, instagram, and the blogs we have to check because we have early-morning FOMO.

And all those things would clog up my brain before I’d even said good morning to my sweetheart or kissed my kiddo’s tousled heads. I was already somewhere else before I even started my day with them.

15 Days of “research”

Now I haven’t been perfect but I’ve been mostly very good. (The iPad is extra tough to resist on Saturday mornings because I love a good lounge when there’s no official start-time to the day.) But I’ve passed the two-week mark of screen-free mornings, and research suggests that I’m all about it.

I see my children when they come in to say good morning. (I’m still maybe a little groggy/grumpy, okay. But I see their eyes!)

I feel my body waking up–the muscle kinks, the long stretch, the warm wonderfulness of curling up for one more minute under my blankets before I have to get up.

I turn to look and my cute husband and watch him sleep (in a not-creepy way, because marriage automatically makes this cute) and kiss him good morning.

I notice the color of the morning light–in summer it is yellow, but lately it’s been more cool-blue and wintery. Like it can tell the temperatures are dipping.

I feel easier, more focused, more purposeful as I start my morning routine: dressed, bed made, laundry started, dishwasher unloaded, lift the the bed-headed toddler from her crib and kiss her cheeks as many times as I can.

I don’t know, mama.

I guess I’m just more me because I’m connecting slowly, and one at a time, with the people and work that fill me and soothe me now. Instead of quickly and all at once with a lot of jpegs and status messages that clogged up my brain.

Give it a try tomorrow, mama.

When your alarm goes off, leave the phone on your nightstand. And see what happens next.

xo,
Jamie

p.s. You really should read the original article, too. It was wonderful!

 

You need to speak kindly–to yourself.

Why you need to speak kindly--to yourself.

I’ve been trying to reboot my housekeeping system this past week, so I decided to give the FlyLady method a try. Last week I started her “Baby Steps”–she has you add one tiny change every day so you can build strong habits without feeling overwhelmed–and today’s assignment was Day 5.

It focused on changing those negative, nagging voices in the back of our heads and honestly? I actually put this one off. I was supposed to do it on Saturday, but… it felt kind of stupid.

But I realized today that I also put it off because I didn’t want to address those thoughts.

They’re mean.

They hurt.

And… You know… What if I look hard at them and find out that they’re right?

My Inner Mean Girl

But five days in, I’m in this thing now. (I’ve got a shiny sink and everything.) So during lunch today, while the kids were in quiet time, I took out a piece of paper and wrote them down.

All the mean, nasty, hurtful things I say to myself.

positive-self-talk2

I consider myself pretty well adjusted. I’m pretty good at positive self-talk. (I’ve got clinical depression, so that was one of the first skills I learned with my counselor.)

But you know what? These things I didn’t really acknowledge I was saying to myself? When I wrote them down, I realized how badly they hurt me. My own thoughts, the words I was saying to myself hurt just as deeply as if someone else were screaming them at me. The pain was almost physical.

…

You are fat. Your stomach is gross.

 

No matter how hard you try you will never be a healthy weight again.

 

Your best isn’t ever going to be good enough to get you where you want to go in life.

 

Your efforts are pathetic and pointless.

…

Do you say things like these to yourself, mama?

Does your heart ache from them, like mine does today?

Be Nice

We tell our kids this all the time, right?

“Just be nice!”

“Kind voices please!”

“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” (My kids just learned that one a couple weeks ago, so its getting heavy use in our house. 😉 )

But what about ourselves, mama?

Do we say this to ourselves? To our own thoughts?

“Be nice.”

Do we take time–make the effort–to be kind to ourselves?

The second part of my “Baby Step” today was to change all those negative thoughts by writing down a positive answer to each of them.

positive-self-talk1

It was hard, mama.

It felt a little cheesy at first, so I had to play around until I found the right words. The words I could read–or even say aloud–and mean.

…

My body is strong, healthy, beautiful, and capable.

 

As I focus on my health, I will be able to build a healthier body. Give. It. Time.

 

My best is always enough when I allow God to make up the difference.

 

I’m doing good.

…

If you have ten minutes today, I’d really recommend you give this a try.

When you write down your affirmations (the good stuff!), post them somewhere you’ll see them. A lot. Put a post-it on your steering wheel, mirror, fridge, wherever. Tuck them in your scriptures. Make them the lock screen on your phone.

Practice being kind to yourself, building yourself up instead of tearing yourself down.

It’s going to take time, mama.

It’s going to take practice.

And that’s okay.

As always, we’re in it together. Love you.

xo,
Jamie

The simplest, best gift you can give to other mamas.

Mamas need love, too. | How to bring light to the lives of your fellow mamas. (Trust me--they need it, and so do you!)

Once a month I meet with a handful of other mamas for a Learning Circle. We read an article, then gather to discuss it, share thoughts and struggles, eat snacks, and encourage one another. And after the discussion we sit around and giggle like college girls. It is probably one of my favorite things in my whole life. 🙂

We all came together almost by accident. I saw a sale for the Power of Moms’ Learning Circle program, and threw a status post out on facebook inviting any mom I knew to join me. The guidelines suggest you limit your group to about 10-12 people (to keep it more intimate, and allow you to bond and feel comfortable sharing the REAL stuff, you know?) and I got just about that many responses.

The funny thing was, some of these mamas I barely knew. But I invited them into my home, and we’ve changed each other. We’ve lifted each other and cried in front of each other, prayed for each other and supported one another.

Now these women who were once just smile-in-the-hallway acquaintances are pieces of my heart.

Mamas need love, too.

We do.

We need friendship and compassion and encouragement.

We need kind words and promises that yes, my house has toys on the floor all day, too.

No, I didn’t clean my toilet this week either.

Yes, my toddler’s shriek raises my blood pressure just the way yours does.

And I came here to see you, not to judge your wrinkled, juice-stained sofa slipcovers.

I’ve had the good fortune to be out on my own a little more this year. Two of my three are in school at least a couple days a week, and my husband has been really supportive when I mention that I need a break from “being in charge.” (Because I realized, it’s not the kids I need a break from–it’s being the big boss of la familia 24/7 that wears me thin.)

On Tuesday I had 6 hours to myself. (Yes. SIX!!!) I may as well have been on a Parisian shopping spree, I was so carefree and happy.

I got a haircut.

I went to Panera and read a YA book, ate a Fuji Apple Chicken salad, and texted a selfie to my BFF in Arizona.

I stopped in on a friend and visited with her and her little ones.

And, obviously, I went to Target.

I saw so many mamas with their littles in tow.

Mamas with kids hanging on to the fronts of their carts, heads tipped back and hair swaying upside down.

Mamas with babies strapped to their chests and toddlers clinging to their hands.

Mamas soothing tantrums and little broken hearts.

And all of them had the same look that I know I must have when I face the big world with my small, irrational, beloved people. The look that says, Why did I come? What was I thinking? And how can I do this one minute longer?

She’s me:

With the preschooler lagging constantly behind as she urges him through the dangers of the parking lot.

The toddler shrieking with anger that she can’t eat the bananas that were just placed beside her in the cart.

The mama flushed with embarrassment and wishing she couldn’t feel everyone’s eyes on her as she pushes her circus through the store.

And we’ve all been there, right?

Let’s say so.

Let’s smile encouragingly at the other mamas in the store, at the gym, in the park. Even if we wouldn’t mother how they’re mothering. Let’s smile anyway.

Let’s share battle stories and wounded hearts with our friends, and confess that sometimes we wipe our kids noses (or our own) on the sleeves of our sweatshirts because we are in the trenches, and you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.

Let’s visit each other with no makeup on, or invite someone in without apologizing for “the mess.”

Let’s tell each other what we admire in one another. You are so good at playing with your kids. I am so impressed by how hard you work. I love how you read to your children. I admire how you make time to do the things you love. I like how you try to keep things simple.

Let’s tell other mamas that their children are beautiful, funny, well-behaved, or brave.

Let’s tell them that they look beautiful.

You might feel silly saying these things out loud at first, mama, but that’s okay.

It’s worth it.

All the beautiful things other women have said to me, I keep in my heart.

I treasure them.

I turn to their words–the words of women I love and trust, or women I have met only once–when I question myself. When I wonder if I am good enough or bright enough, if I have beauty in me or if I am doing okay as a mother.

Your words matter.

They are a gift.

Give them freely.

xo,
Jamie

p.s. What to do when you’re struggling, and a list of embarrassing things that have happened to me (to help you get over being the circus in the checkout line 😉 ) and keep up with my latest & greatest ideas & struggles on fb. Muah!

What other people think.

When you can't stop worrying about what other people think...

Sometimes I’m not sure what to say to you, mama.

I’m not sure what you might need to hear.

I almost always know that you need to be encouraged. To be told that you’re doing good. That your efforts will give way to beauty. That your hard days will be tempered with joy (if you let them!).

And often I just write things down, writing what I need to hear, and hoping it helps you, too.

But I have to admit–doing that is hard.

Telling you (and hoping that you are, in fact, even reading) my deepest fears and struggles sometimes feels lonely, or fruitless, or foolish. Because who am I, really, to be giving you advice?

I start to worry about what you might think of me. If you might laugh. If you might roll your eyes and click to the next page. If you might think I sound high and mighty or weak and ridiculous or (worse?) just plain old naive.

But I keep coming back, because I’ve got this ache in me. This tug from somewhere behind my heart that pulls me to the keyboard and urges me to write to you. To share with you. To be honest and foolish and flawed if thats what it takes.

To try to be brave so that you know you’re not alone.

What Other People Think

Today I want to talk to you about what other people think.

We worry about it a lot, don’t we mama?

We try not to–sometimes we even practice not worrying. But somehow there’s still always that little niggling voice in the back of our minds, whispering…

Look how she’s looking at me. She has never liked me. She’ll never even want to like me.

I wonder if I look stupid in this dress and nobody’s telling me?

My kids are FREAKING OUT in the middle of Target. Everyone in this store must be thinking what a totally incapable mother I am.

Can they tell I forgot to shave my legs?

She would NEVER send her child to school wearing what my kid is wearing. What does she think of me???

And if our own imaginings aren’t bad enough (and I personally think they are!) sometimes other people even tell us exactly what they do think.

That our baby with the bare feet in the grocery cart needs socks on.

That we’re not good at housekeeping or we’re never on time or we are lazy or careless for letting our kids go to the store in their pajamas.

That they’d never feed that to their children.

We gather these things up in and store them away our hearts all day long–not consciously, not willfully, but just because we’re human. Because we’re trying, but we’re afraid that maybe we’re failing. And our minds like to look for proof of things to decide whether or not they’re true.

The Quiet, Unquenchable Truth

It’s easy for me to say, “Don’t worry about what they think, mama!”

It’s a million times harder for you (or me!) to actually put that into practice!

So I wanted to take a minute to help you think about this in a different way. A way that might make it easier to really not worry so much.

As I was sitting in church yesterday, one particular piece of a lesson latched itself into my heart. The teacher said, paraphrasing this speech by religious leader Ezra Taft Benson,

“We lose our independence when we give in to the bondage of [other people’s] judgement.”

Have you ever thought of it from that perspective? That we actually lose our independence when we give in to our fears of what other people think? That sacrificing ourselves to someone else’s opinion can be a kind of bondage?

That idea was so powerful and clear, it was like a punch to the stomach for me.

Would you wear brighter colors, style your hair differently, walk taller, feel better?

Would you be able to control your humiliated anger and calmly walk your screaming preschooler to a quieter place to calm down instead of hissing at him furiously through gritted teeth? (I’m not judging you, here, by the way–I’m 100% commiserating!)

Would you be happier if you answered to the truth and wholeness in your own heart–to the calling of your faith in yourself and in God or the greatness of something more than our one self–than if you answered to anyone or everyone else?

As I thought about this today, I felt my spirit lighten.

I felt strengthened by the idea of answering only to that quiet, unquenchable truth inside me. To me, that is the light of Christ–the understanding I’ve been given by a loving Father in Heaven of who I am and that I have a purpose greater than myself.

You might call it something different, but I know you can feel it and find it, too. Your own quiet, unquenchable truth. The tug behind your heart to go forth, to be brave, to trust and to act on that trust.

I’m pulling for you, mama. You are a glorious being, a child of light, a woman with courage and brightness and purpose.

Be bold and do good, and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.

with love,
Jamie

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