Margaret Domnick - The Inside Story...

I'm a woman, mother, friend, sister, daughter, wife and partner in crime. I'm spontaneous, anal, loud, loving, funny (or at least I think I am), and generally honest. Sometimes I get these thoughts... so I've created this blog to share them. Feel free to respond, but be kind...did I mention that I'm sensitive?

Friday, July 16, 2010

Life...It Is What It Is

“Mom, do you like your life?”

I froze for a second. I was caught completely off guard. I was in the middle of emptying the dishwasher and explaining to my children (again) why everyone DOES need to pitch-in with daily chores. I had been talking out-loud about the long list of wait-till-the-very-last-possible-moment-to-get-done items, the cost of braces, the impossibility of our activity schedule, and the necessity of dinner.

I look across the counter at the honest, adorable, intent, questioning face of my 10 year-old son. “Well, do you?” he inquired again.

I flashed back to my wedding day, still the happiest day of my life. I saw the quick births of my children, my first house, and my college graduation. I remembered puking babies, sleep deprived nights, screaming car trips, and petty fighting. I saw medical bills, food bills, daycare fees, and house payments. I saw spilled juice on the carpet, pee on the brand new couch, and food stuck in the crevices of the car. I remembered all the diapers, the wipes, the toys, the bottles, the books, the games and the laundry. I had no time for myself, no time for my husband, and no time for my friends. I remembered pretending to sleep, hoping someone else -anyone else - would go get the crying child. Now the youngest of those crying children is 10, and asking me if I liked my life.

A sudden rush of emotion came over me. I remembered all the grins, giggles, laughing, dancing, singing and being silly. I remembered family pictures, Christmas cards, bike rides, campfires, coloring, play-doh, finger-paint, swim lessons, back yard kick-ball, hide-and-seek, and bedtime monsters. I remembered the smells of freshly baked cookies and freshly bathed kids. I relived daily routines, butterfly kisses, bedtime stories, prayers, confessions, and finally silence. I remembered school programs, sports practices, piano lessons, birthday parties, Halloween costumes, Christmas mornings, sleep-overs, zoo trips, and snuggle time.

I remember discussions about what Big Bird might eat for breakfast, why grown-ups got to stay up late, and why cookies aren’t a meal. More recently they include curfew, driving, dating, sexting, parties, cliques, trips, manners, attitude, behavior, grades, and daily chores. It may not be what I had planned it to be, but…

“Yes” I said, “I love my life”.


Friday, July 9, 2010

Ok, So I'm a Dweller

I’ll admit it, I’m a Dweller. I re-think, re-play, re-live, analyze, question, talk about, dissect, etc… a situation before I can be done with it. It can be a happy event, or a disturbing event. It can be funny, messy, personal, relative, realistic, uplifting or upsetting. It can even be something that happened to someone else. In whatever way I am affected, I always find something I wish I had done, said, or thought differently; and I dwell on it. Finally, I accept the fact that I cannot change the outcome, no matter how much energy I spend on it, and I begin to move on to a new dwelling event. I do not know what to do about my habit. I am not open to taking medication to control my thoughts. Whatever thoughts I have, they are truly my thoughts and I like that. But I do not like dwelling.

My husband, on the other hand, is a Roller. He is able to experience any situation, react however he happens to react, accept it, and then let it roll. He rarely re-thinks, re-plays, re-lives, analyzes, questions, talks about or dissects a situation more than once (to tell me about it). His stand is “I can’t do anymore about it now, so what’s the point?” He’s right. I want to be a Roller. I’m working on Rolling. But I am still a Dweller.

I am also a “what if”er and “if only”er. I don’t think I’m the only one to play that game. I think (sometimes out loud) to myself “What if I did THIS?”, Or “If only I’d done THAT”. I convince myself that the story would have a different ending, but actually, it would just have a different set of “what if”s and” if only”s to ponder. Why do I do that? I think I know the answer…

I’m an emotional person. I think with my head and with my heart. If my head and my heart are telling me the same thing, I can usually accept the outcome of my actions. It’s when my head tells me one thing and my heart another that I find myself dwelling about my actions.

When what you know, what you think, and what you feel are different, you have options, and options create opportunities; opportunities create choices, and what you choose is your action. What you don’t choose becomes your “what if” and your “if only”. Dwellers focus on the options they didn’t use. We save them, feed them, and let them enter our minds. Rollers focus on the option they did use, and wad up the leftovers and roll them away.

I want to be a Roller…I will learn to roll.