did Ma Ingalls ever have any fun?

Like many people, when my first child was born, it took me a very short while to figure out that my life had drastically changed.  I remember a big realization while doing dishes:  Dishes have to be done.  Oh yes, and laundry must be done.  And folded.  Also, things must be clean in the house.  Also, more dishes must be done and put away and more laundry needs washing and folding.  No more procrastinating.  No more blowing off chores to watch Oprah.  No more getting a cold and lying on the couch all evening.  Here's more or less what I began telling myself:  It all depends on me.  Everything seemed to suddenly become very serious, with serious consequences.

So, you might think this is weird, but I made up a game for myself to stay motivated.  I thought, "Katy, you're in Pioneer Times now.  All your chores and tasks are as necessary to our family's survival as anything Ma Ingalls ever did."  Banish from your mind, "I'm just too tired."  Maybe that's not SO weird - I know another mom who used to pretend it was WWII and her husband was a soldier on the European Front. 

As I've mentioned, I love imagination as a tool for coping.  Frankly, for me, being a mom to infants was a time I needed both imagination and coping.  This  internal game of pretend worked okay as my kids were toddlers, too.

But, I think it backfired in a couple ways.  Actually, I think we all give ourselves certain messages and/or create certain thoughts during times of stress or periods of our lives and these thoughts don't serve us well later.  I work with a lot of women and I see that many of us spend time trying to overcome the following thoughts:  1)  If I don't do it, no one will.  2) I can't rest or relax because it will appear that I am not taking what I do seriously. 

This eventually leads to bigger problems - not thoughts exactly, but a way behaviours are manifest - I don't know how to have fun, I don't know what gives me pleasure, and finally, the things I do to cope are pleasurable in the short run, but unhealthy in the long run. 

As I've been getting my thoughts together for this post, I heard Toni Bernhard, the author of a book, How to Be Sick, talking on Morning Edition - she has some kind of long term illness that keeps her often at home and more often than she'd like, in bed.  She's found comfort in a Buddhist meditation practice (more info at http://www.npr.org/2011/01/31/132675079/learning-to-live-a-full-life-with-chronic-illness) and quoted a Buddhist saying, "If you don't have compassion for yourself, your compassion is incomplete." 

I love it!  One way to have compassion for yourself is to say nicer things to yourself and allow yourself to enjoy life.

Sometimes I begin  to remind myself of George Costanza from Seinfeld - there's a great episode in which, as usual, he's having difficulties at work - if I'm remembering right, he has a job, but isn't sure what he's supposed to be doing exactly.  He discovers that if he just walks around looking harried, worried, sighing, and moves at a quick pace, everyone thinks he's the hardest working guy around.

Okay, could this sometimes be me?

Let's be honest.  I'm not living on the prairie in the 1800s.  These days, I'm working on telling myself different things, things like:  It's okay to ask for help.  It's okay if the house doesn't look perfect when the babysitter comes over.  It's okay to watch Oprah's 25th Year: Behind the Scenes in a two to three hour marathon.  Why not?  It's okay to enjoy the little things in life.  And it's probably okay to take myself less seriously, too.