After a long hiatus, Adventures With My Forties Is Back!

Why was I gone for several months? Because I lost my podcasting momentum.

My uncle died January 16; my grandma died February 1; and my brain shut down for the month of February. I rested. I cried. I rested some more and journaled and talked to friends. And then, I came out of the fog in March and reengaged with life. I got back to writing and volunteering at school. I embarked on some ambitious DIY projects. But I had a big old mental block against podcasting.

The day before my grandma died, I got a new laptop. All the files and programs I use for podcasting were saved on the old clunker, and transferring files to the new laptop was overwhelming when I was in the grief trenches. As I emerged from grief, it still seemed like too much. How could I record a podcast episode without the proper intro? But ugh, that meant booting up the old laptop…

So I procrastinated and the longer I waited, the more daunting it felt to return to podcasting.

Then yesterday, my inner muse announced, We’re recording a new episode, fuck the intro.

So here I am: same podcast, sans intro. It’s a new way for me to embrace imperfection.

Speaking of imperfection, that’s the topic of Episode 33. On Father’s Day, the kids would not stop bickering and I lost all of my shits. It was not my finest hour of parenting. If you listen to the episode, then you’ll hear my reenactment of Me, Losing All My Shits. (I told Pippa we were never going to Disneyland again. Like I said: All Shits Were Lost.)

After I cooled down, I apologized to my kids. We hugged and I explained that while they had behaved poorly, I overreacted.

Basically as soon as I apologized, my guilt kicked in. Why am I such a horrible mother? Why did I lose all my shits? They are just kids. They can’t be perfect.

Then I remembered: I can’t be perfect, either.

My kids are entitled to my mistakes.

If I never make mistakes, then I’m teaching my kids that they cannot make mistakes. But mistakes are a necessary and vital part of life. We have to embrace mistakes if we want to try new things and go on adventures.

When I put pressure on myself to be the perfect mom, I try to remember and ask myself, Is this what I want for my kids? Because if I put this pressure on myself, I am teaching them by example to put the pressure on themselves as well.

I am not raising perfect kids. I am raising gloriously imperfect humans.

The good news is that when I lose all my shits, I have the opportunity to apologize to my kids. I get to show them how to mend and repair relationships. They get to learn, through experience, that we can screw up and not be banished to hell.