Brainstorming Solutions to Your Everyday Mom Problems

May 7, 2021

Mother's day got me thinking how the job of "mom" Is unlike any other job. Many people unarguably agree that it the most difficult job there is (see American Greetings video). It is by far the most difficult job I've ever had, that's for damn sure. That said, we, as Moms, have this way of not treating this all-consuming work as a job.

When I worked in a "real" job, there was an order to things. We had routines and rhythms, meetings and mission statements. When a new client or account came in, we created new systems for them and readjusted our schedule to allow for the new work. If a particular area of our job was not working, my team and I would brainstorm solutions for how to improve it.

Why is it, then, that I don’t apply that same methodology to my home life? This is a time when I need systems and solutions more than ever.

Moms are notorious for walking through life accepting a constant state of stress. We’re always in a rush, on the edge, or totally losing our shit.

“This is just Mom Life,” we tell ourselves.

We’re supposed to live in leggings and stained shirts, possibly un-showered, with permanent bags under our eyes from lack of sleep, and furrowed brows from frustration and stress.

Damn. That paints a terrible picture when you really think about it.

Why are we okay with this? Why do we just accept that this is the way things are?

Did it ever occur to you (it didn’t to me) to do something about it? To sit down with ourselves and come up with solutions to our everyday problems? It's not to say that it would make them all go away, but there is something very powerful about putting our issues on paper and thinking through ways to solve them.

I can’t pretend that I thought of this all on my own. I’ve been taking a course online through minimalist blogger and podcaster, Allie Casazza, called Unburdened. It’s been a huge kick in the pants (leggings, of course) and led me to take a harder look at my mom life and how I live it.

One of my favorite exercises from the course is called "brainstorming solutions." Not for your day job, but for your job as a mom. As in, consider the parts of your day — morning, afternoon, and evening and write down your pain points with each category, and then find solutions to your problems. You can then later apply this to days of the week, times of the month, and even physical body, relationships with others, and relationship with yourself.

Today I’m going to share part of my exercise with you in hopes that I can inspire other moms to do the same for themselves.

Morning

Problems:

I’m always tight on time, and almost always late dropping off my oldest at preschool.
Nearly every morning, Charley has a tantrum for a variety of reasons — her socks are on “backwards,” she forgot her blankie upstairs, she is falling off her chair and she can’t get up, she wants me to “READ HER A BOOK!!!”, etc. This is a constant source of stress for me and what I dread most when I wake up in the morning.
I am always searching for extra things at the last minute — gloves, hats, snow pants, extra snacks, sound of the week items (for Charley’s school), books for the car, water bottles, my keys, etc.
Overall, stressful and rushed! I have absolutely no time for myself from the moment I’m woken up (by either Maggie crying through the baby monitor or Charley creepily standing over my bed watching me sleep) to the moment we step out the door.

Solutions:

Prepare EVERYTHING the night before – I used to just prepare lunches, but I still found myself scrambling in the morning for all the aforementioned items above. I have now started to literally walk myself through the morning the night before and get every little thing ready and by the door or in the fridge so I don’t even have to think about it in the morning.
Say NO when saying YES would make my morning more stressful — We got into the habit of reading books or playing in the morning when Charley would wake up at 5 AM and we had plenty of time to kill. Now, she’s more of a 6:00/6:30 AM riser leaving us barely enough time to get dressed and eat. I’ve been forcing myself to say no when she asks if we can play cars or dress up or read books if there’s just not enough time to do it. I then accept that what follows may be a tantrum or just an extremely sad look on her cute face, but that over time, she will accept that this is just not something we do in the morning anymore.
Have incentives — If Charley can promise me to have her socks, shoes, and jacket on by a certain time, we can then read a book in the car when we get to school. This way she is extra motivated to get moving and I’ve already got her to school by the time we’re reading the book. This also cuts down on my 1-year-old wandering off during reading (therefore having to go fetch her and tear her away from whatever she’s working on). One day a week, I also treat them to Starbucks (i.e. Chocolate milk for Charley, running around Starbucks and greeting everybody who walks in for Maggie, and coffee for me). Again, this is only if everybody is at the door and ready to go by 7:15.
Let go — I do not have control over Charley’s emotions. I tell myself this on a daily basis. All I can do is have everything as prepared as possible to cut down on my stress, thereby hopefully cutting down on hers. When she does have one of her tantrums, I acknowledge what she’s struggling with, and then continue on with what I’m doing.
Wake up early whenever possible — My 16-month-old is still waking up at least once a night, leaving me overtired and under-slept most mornings. Though I like to complain about it, I do have control over this too. I have to put in the work to train her to go back to sleep on her own without nursing or holding and rocking. Once I have achieved this, I will then have the energy to get up before my kids do, giving me extra time in the morning for myself to exercise, journal, meditate, or at the very least get dressed and brush my teeth by myself.

This isn't groundbreaking stuff. I realize this. It's actually ridiculously simple and slightly tedious. My intention wasn't for you to take my solutions to heart, but to realize that you can resolve your own problems by writing them down and addressing them rather than just accepting them.

It takes time to sit down and take this seriously. And you’re not going to want to do it because it feels silly and like a waste of time. But I realized that I was actually wasting way more time by not doing it. I guarantee you we all have ways we can improve our routines and relationships. We just have to take it as seriously as we would our job. Which shouldn’t be hard because it is our life, after all.

Your Turn!

I've created a worksheet here so you all can take it and run with it.

HealthyStacey Brainstorming Solutions Worksheet

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I appreciate you. If you do decide to do this exercise, I would love to hear your feedback in the comments below. What did you come up with? Are your days feeling better? Have you applied brainstorming to other areas of your life?

Love,

Healthy Mommy, Recipes

Finding Time For My Masterpiece + Banana Pancake Recipe

February 26, 2021

With every nap, with every bedtime, and with every moment that my children actually find a way to entertain themselves, my immediate thought is: What marvelous thing can I create with this time?

A pitch for a piece in The New York Times?

The first chapter of my novel?

A well-crafted, thought-provoking blog post?

As I walk downstairs with my head in the clouds, I try to avoid eye contact with the piles. You know the ones. Piles of laundry, piles of dishes, piles of food particles under the highchair, piles of bills and paperwork, piles of toys.

I know they need to be done, but I convince myself that a job that should take an entire day to complete can be done in a matter of minutes. Essentially, I half-ass them, doing parts of one, and parts of another on my way to the office where I will create my masterpiece. More often than not, though, I never arrive at the office. I get tied up in the piles, even with my best attempts to let them slide off my back, as if they didn't bother me, as if they were not nearly as important as creating something that will stimulate my mind and bring me joy.

Does anybody else think like this? Do othrer moms imagine all the things they are going to do with their “free time” and then realize, there is no such thing as time that is free? It all comes with a price. If you’re doing one thing, you’re not doing another. And when you’re a mom, there’s always something to do.

I think the problem is that I still have not fully grasped or accepted what it means to be a stay-at-home mom. Before my first-born, I romanticized what full-time mommy-hood would look like….

Snuggles in bed, looking lovingly into their eyes while they nuzzled up to be the small spoon to my big spoon, immediately followed by tickle fights, with infectious and nonstop baby giggles. Every day would be scheduled with playdates and story times at the library, during which I would chat with other moms and stare adoringly at my child while they figured out the world around them — smile on their face the whole time, of course. And then during nap time, I would become the published writer I was always meant to be. What else would there be to do?

Now, of course I understand that I was so very naive. Green. Stupid. Completely and utterly clueless.

It is nothing like the life I had imagined.

It’s waking up at un-Godly hours, 2 to 3 to 5 times a night. It’s doing your darnedest to keep your kids healthy by whipping up banana and egg “pancakes” (recipe below) only to have your 3-year-old claim that they are “BURNT!” and refuse to eat them, while your 10 month old squeezes her pouch all over her freshly-washed hair. It’s picking up toys and not-toys at all times of the day. And no matter how well you clean any given space, it will immediately be destroyed again only moments after. It’s being a full-time bodyguard to your baby, since every move she makes towards your toddler results in screaming, lunging at, kicking, or shoving towards baby.

When nap time finally arrives, you realize that you absolutely have to get a nap yourself to be able to muscle through the rest of the day, thereby forgoing your first chance at working on your masterpiece. That’s okay, there’s still the afternoon nap, you tell yourself.

When afternoon nap time hits, you’ve been emptied. Emptied of energy, intelligent thoughts, and discipline to prioritize something as frivolous as writing when there’s so much else to be done (i.e. the aforementioned piles). When I do muster up the energy to actually sit at my husband’s desk with my laptop, I just stare at the blank screen and think…nothing. I have nothing. Nothing to say. Nothing to give. I’ve given it all away. And nothing is filling me back up.

So inevitably, I find myself doing more logical, responsible things like reading through the 2,276 reviews on iPhone protection screens or researching how much it will cost to replace the lazy Suzan shelf that broke and smashed my very pungent balsamic vinaigrette inside said lazy Suzan.

The closest I’m able to get to my masterpiece is listening to others who are in the midst of creating theirs. Podcasts, audiobooks, masterclasses featuring Mom Bosses and creative world-beaters. They love to tell me how other women are out there writing novels, starting their own clothing lines or nutritionist businesses — and they’re all doing it with everything I have on my plate and more!

Maybe if I just listen to enough of these go-getters instead of actually doing the work myself, their creative powers will rub off on me and I, too, will create something or found something or speak about creating or founding something brilliant. Yeah. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll just wait until brilliance comes to me. In the meantime, I better get back to the piles.

Love,

p.s. If you would like to make healthy paleo pancakes for your ungrateful children, I have left the recipe below. It's a staple in my chaotic home. Unless, of course, I burn them. You're welcome.

Paleo Banana Pancakes – Easy, Kid-Friendly (Depending on your kid), and Filling

Ingredients:

1 banana
1 egg
1 egg white
Pinch of salt
1 tsp. Cooking oil (Ghee, Olive Oil, Coconut Oil)

Directions:

Preheat non-stick pan on stovetop at medium heat
Mash banana until it's a banana paste, with little to no lumps
Add mashed banana, egg, and egg white to bowl and whisk
Add in pinch of salt
Add ghee or olive oil to pan
Spoon dollops of banana/egg mixture onto pan one by one, making silver dollar-sized pancakes around the circumference of the pan
Lower the heat to medium-low and keep an eye on the pancakes so they don't burn. I would estimate about 3-4 minutes per side but that depends on your stove and your pan. The best way to check if they're ready is to attempt to flip them over with a spatula. If they hold together, they're ready. If they are still too gooey and fall apart in your attempt, they are not ready.
Let cook on flip side for another 3-4 minutes on low. They should be golden brown on each side when they're done. It may take a couple of flips back and forth to get them there.
Optional: If you're kids are being very good or you want to bribe good behavior in exchange for a special treat, add in dark chocolate chips after the second flip. Do NOT overdo this, otherwise it will no longer be special and will be expected, leading you to serve them chocolate chips every morning when you're original intention was to get them to eat a healthy hearty breakfast.

Healthy Mind, Healthy Mommy

Life Before Kids

August 11, 2020

Last Saturday night, I had the pleasure of driving to pick up pizza for my family. To be clear, the pleasure part was that I was driving to my destination and back ALL ALONE. No toddler. No baby. No husband (no offense, babe).

My mind filled up with all of the things I could do with this new-found freedom. I could go get a latte at Starbucks, swing by Old Navy to get a few sports bras, or go to the top of Lookout Mountain and just stand there in silence. I did none of those things, but honestly, just the joy of thinking about doing them got me excited. I did, however, listen to Jagged Little Pill and catch up with my best friend on the phone for a brief but sweet 15 minutes. It was the little slice of me that I needed to refuel. When I got home, I felt exhilarated. Rested. Refreshed. Dare I say, excited to see my kids again.

I got all of that from just a 20-minute round-trip errand. Which made me realize:

I need to get out more.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the things that used to make me “me.” You know, the before-kids me.

Saturday nights were for Karaoke and other shenanigans. I would plan my song ahead of time, drink just the right amount of vodka tonic to get me motivated, and then, step on stage to experience a high that only singing in front of a roomful of strangers could give me. I was good. I was very good. Not at singing, but boy could I put on a show. At one point, I got the whole bar to do chorus line kicks with me to Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York.” I remember stepping off the stage and thinking, “Nailed it.” If Karaoke wasn't an option, there was always dancing. Dancing at bars. Dancing in our apartment. Dancing in the streets. I remember thinking, there will never be a point where I stop going out to dance. Ha!

Friday nights and close-enough-to-Friday nights (Thursday night, Wednesday night) were for going out to eat. My then-boyfriend-now-husband and I lived in downtown Chicago in the West Loop — home to Google, trendy boutique hotels, and some of the most popular chef-driven restaurants in the country. Mexican-Mediterranean-Italian-Japanese food fusion served with spicy Mezcals or 10-ingredient cocktails that took 10-minutes for a well-trained mixologist to concoct. Wood-fired pizzas on rooftops. Sushi rolls with exotic sounding sauces like spicy ponzu or uni butter. The night was ours and nobody else’s. We could talk for hours without bouncing tiny humans on our knees in hopes of “getting through” dinner. I lived for these nights. And took pictures of almost everything I ate, later writing about it here on HealthyStacey.com or posting it on my largely popular Instagram account (kidding). One time, my Insta post even earned us a free meal at one of the best restaurants in the city because…social media influence. (A term that no longer belongs in my vocabulary).

Saturday mornings were for the Farmers Market. This was when “Healthy Stacey” was in her element. I would walk to the park, reusable Trader Joe’s bags in hand, ready to fill them up with grass-fed beef, organ meat, chicken feet for my bone broth, and pasture-raised eggs. Of course, there was the locally-grown organic produce — kohlrabi, butter lettuce, misshapen sweet potatoes, heirloom tomatoes, and at least eight different varieties of apples. And then there was the mushroom guy. Ah, meaty shitakes, nutty shimejis, and buttery lion’s mane. I would walk the four blocks home carrying this ridiculously heavy load, motivated only by the moment when I would dump my loot out on my kitchen counter to take beautiful pictures of it all. I would then spend hours cooking up a fancy meal with it that night, only to take more pictures of the final product before I ate it. Damn I had a lot of time on my hands.

Weekday nights — if I was truly alone — were reserved for my most embarrassing guilty pleasure — 90s TV. I owned entire box sets of Boy Meets World, Friends, and Sabrina The Teenage Witch. Full House was easy to catch on TV, as was Home Improvement so the box sets were not necessary. My movies of choice were Father of the Bride, Clueless, My Best Friend’s Wedding, and Troop Beverly Hills (what a thrill J). If I was feeling really crafty, I might even try to catch some old Mary Kate and Ashley shows on YouTube (Two of a Kind, So Little Time anyone?), or revisit SNICK or TGIF promos. My little 90s oasis made me feel like I was a kid again. Whenever I was stressed, it was almost like I was hitting the rewind button to go back to a simpler time.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to go back for a day. Wait, no — a week. Yes, a week in my old life with the new knowledge that this freedom would be fleeting. That it would only last a few short years. How much louder would I sing? How much more would I dance? How much sweeter would my ginger and herb-infused cocktail taste? And how much later would I stay up to watch just one more episode of Sabrina?

I guess I’ll get my chance again one day, when my kids are grown. But I guarantee you, I’ll be karaoke-ing to some song that I sang with my kids, I’ll stop mid-drink to think about that time my two-year-old ran across the room to “cheers!” me, and I’ll pause that show to scroll through pictures of my babies when they were still babies. I’ll never really go back. Because I can’t. Only forward.

Healthy Mommy

Confessions of a Wannabe Montessori Mom

November 20, 2019

This is a piece I wrote for Mother.ly about 7 months ago that never got published. But I found it the other day and thought it sad that it never saw the light of day. Then I remembered, I have my own blog. Duh. So, here it is…

The Montessori life. Loving, respectful children, capable of playing independently, cleaning up after themselves, drinking out of a cup, and climbing on to their floor mattress at bedtime all on their own. Ah. Sounds lovely. I want that for my little girl. I really do. But I have my doubts. Not in the philosophy, but in my abilities to be a Montessori mom. You see, it takes a very special person to do this job. You have to be clean, organized, routine-oriented, and patient. Very, very patient.

I am none of these things.

When I walk in the door, I pull off my shoes using my feet and foot-toss them as close as possible to the shoe area. I pull off my daughter’s shoes and toss them with the same effort.

I walk past the powder room, forgetting that we should make it a habit to wash her hands as soon as she walks in the door. I will remember this important self-care task seconds after I put her down at her appopriately-sized dining table, scurrying her to the bathroom while she kicks and screams because she’s “HUNGY!”

Once that's finished, I begin to say, “Charley, get a plate from your…” Oh wait. I didn’t replenish her dish-setting drawer. There are no plates, no forks, just a lonely bib and a cup that she never uses because every time I try to get her to drink from an open-mouthed cup, she pours it all over herself.

We sit down to eat, and per usual, any attempts to eat with a fork are futile. It typically ends up on the floor or in my face because she wants me to see that she has “FOKE.” I don’t teach her how to use it (again) because I’m more worried about her losing interest in her food than her fork-using abilities.

“All done!” she says. “Okay,” I say. “Let me wipe your hands (yes, I wipe them for her), then you push your chair in.” She pushes it in! Yay! I needed a win. Then, without being asked, she picks up her plate and brings it towards the sink. Yay! Another wi…whoops. She drops the food all over the floor. That’s okay! Learning lesson, right? “Let’s clean it up together,” I say. She stops, looks at me, looks at the plate, then books it to the other side of the room. I don’t push because I know it will take ten times longer for her to help.

She checks out her extremely stale play area while I clean up in the kitchen. There are no trays. No rugs. No wooden shelf. Just a fireplace with six (usually untouched) toys atop, and one pink plastic (yes, I said it) desk and chair next to them. She throws my latest Pinterest attempt across the room (golf tees hammered into the bottom of an egg carton) and circles back around to the kitchen where she can do some real damage (i.e. throw my Pyrex lids like frisbees).

It’s nap time. Thank God. We read three books, sing a song, and I put her in her crib, wondering if she is capable of using an open bed where she would be able to roam freely if she so chooses. Nah. She’s…ahem, I’m not ready. I spend nap time poring over a Montessori book…

Oh, that’s good. I’ll write that down.

I can’t see that ever happening.

Is this author serious? That’s not realistic.

Or maybe it is for other kids, just not mine.

Or worse. Maybe it is for other moms, just not me.

She’s up!! Crap. I forgot to set up a new activity for her. Oh well. I’ll just wing it. We go downstairs and I set her up with a few empty containers and jars with lids. She loves them! Independent-play win. YUSSS.

“Charley, can you set the table for dinner? “I say. I get down to her level and explain to her to put the placemats on the table. Then, the plates, then the forks. Ugh. That was probably too much information at once. And now I’m wondering, have I ever taken the time to explain exactly how to do that?

She gets the placemats out. All eight of them. I explain to her that we only need two, and to put the others back in the drawer. Next, the plates. This time, I have a pile of clean plates for her ready in her drawer. Of course, that means she takes all three plates out, puts her feet in two of them, and throws the other on the floor. I calmly explain to her that the plates are for eating, not stepping in. I wash the plates, then leave them in the drying rack so she can’t try to use them as footwear again.

I pick her up to her chair at the kitchen table. We sit, we eat, she plays with her food, and turns her fork into a scraping device for our table. I try not to comment on her eating habits, how good the food is, and if she is going to eat those delicious parsnips I spent so much time cutting up into small pieces. I want to make sure she doesn’t feel any pressure, and that she’ll eat if she’s hungry, stop when she’s full.

“All done!” she says and signs. We’re in the home stretch. From here, I set her up with a big bottle of milk (yes, bottle, not cup, not glass) and start cleaning the kitchen. She “helps me” sweep with her adorable Melissa & Doug broom and dustpan. But it’s more of a matter of keeping her busy rather than actually accomplishing any sweeping.

We play a little longer, then it’s time for bed. After our usual power struggle, I get her to her stool at the sink for teeth-brushing time. To keep her there, I turn on Boo, our stuffed toy elephant — an unrealistic portrayal of an animal and one that sings, making it a passive toy. Ugh, the shame.

We change into her PJs. I try to let her help, but honestly, at this point, I just want to get this show on the road. She picks out her books (hey, there’s some independence), we snuggle up, and read. Lights out, a song and a slow dance, and in to the bed she goes. “Nigh Nigh!” she says, followed by a kiss-blow. My heart melts.

Another day in the books of a thousand failures and about three and a half wins. I think I can do better tomorrow. I just have to try harder. And remember — there was a time when she refused to push in her chair, insisted on throwing food during meals, and wouldn’t touch anything that implied the word “clean up.” So I must be doing something right. Right?

Much Love,

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