Tag: teens

Motherhood: from pack animal to beauty queen and everything in between

As I hit 42 yesterday and pretty much suffered the “epicenter” of a nervous breakdown that’s been brewing for a few weeks, I had a few epiphanies. One was this: I can totally understand why a woman my age would want cosmetic surgery.

Why? At this age, I’ve given birth to four kids and don’t expect to give birth any more. What’s done is done, baby-wise. Now I’m into a different stage of mothering, one I didn’t expect to make me as crazy as the stage of early childhood (and I really thought that was tough): having kids of varying ages, able to fend for themselves in survival-type ways, but dependent on me in completely different ways, ones that are actually somehow more important to who they are and who they will be. They need guidance, not just food and clean bottoms. My girls range from ages 16 down to 5, and each has specific needs related to her age and unique personalities and interests. None are heavily involved in lots of activities, but just having a few activities all together, along with the usual things to support them in, adds up to a lot of work on my shoulders, a lot of expectations and four precious, amazing young people relying on me to help them grow and develop as good human beings.

Yep, that’s me. Anyone need to add on another bag?

So lately, what with it being “birthday month” at the Lim household, and near the end of the school year, and all the things that go along with those events, I have felt like I am merely a donkey, laden with a huge pile of heavy packs, trudging along, trying to knock off a pack or two at a time. Even as I do so, more packs keep getting laid on my back. I’m about to collapse under the strain, my hairy donkey legs splayed out to all sides at cartoonish angles, my belly and chin flat on the ground.

Every mother has these kinds of obligations, especially at this stage of parenting, and they never fully lift. But every mother is also a woman who just wants to feel pretty and special and … womanly. Sure, I’m not 21 anymore, and I don’t turn guys’ heads, and that’s OK. But I’d like to feel occasionally that I can still turn one man’s head, that I am an object of desire and fascination to him, not just the pack burro who takes care of his home and four kids. It’s really easy for life to get so unbalanced with scheduled events and obligations that each parent becomes an automaton, fulfilling those obligations but losing themselves and their “hearts” in the process.

In interviewing doctors and others, I have learned that most women who have cosmetic surgery are either at the beginning of their reproductive lives or the end. The surgical improvements are done either before childbearing and, often, before attracting a mate or after giving birth to a whole brood and closing up shop in the womb. I’ve talked mostly to women who are in the latter category. They’re mostly parents to children of varying ages and are often stay-at-home moms. I suspect that they’re feeling overwhelmed, out of balance and pretty donkey-like, much as I am feeling right now. I can imagine the siren call of surgery would be very tempting right at this point, when a mother can easily feel very undesirable physically — not necessarily even because she really does look significantly older or plumper or scarred because of giving birth, but because she just doesn’t have time to feel attractive and be a woman, rather than a mom.

Every mother needs to explore and regularly experience that side of herself that is simply a woman, with her own unique beauty and personality. If she doesn’t have time to feel feminine and admired somehow, it’s going to throw her off her game everywhere else. Unfortunately, I don’t have a whole lot of answers as to how to solve this very common problem of unbalance (if I did, I’d probably be a millionaire). I just know that somehow it’s vital to find that balance, to find some time to be pretty, to be oneself, to feel one’s husband turn and look appreciatively, even if that admiring gaze must skim right over a toddler with a smelly diaper and a high school student who needs help with homework or finding a modest prom dress. I know that husband and wife both need to find the time to be themselves, to be just a man and woman who still find each other interesting and attractive. I doubt that plastic surgery can permanently solve these issues, but it certainly would sound tempting as a temporary measure.

Me, I’m just trying to figure out how to stand back up, shoulder my load and trudge on, and balance my life a bit better so I can at least sometimes put down all my packs and revert to my womanly form for at least a little while. Fairy godmother: can you wave your wand for me, please?

My take on “Hunger Games” …

… because I have to weigh in.

I tend to hear about many books that end up being “hot” early in the game thanks to all the ways I stay connected in the publishing world. In the case of The Hunger Games, I heard about it on Stephenie Meyer’s website. I have found that Ms. Meyer has quite good taste in books. She talked about Suzanne Collins’ eventual blockbuster on her website when the first book came out, and I ran out and bought a copy. (She also recommended a fantastic “duo” of books starting with Dreamhunter, which I really liked as well but which isn’t the phenomenon that The Hunger Games has become; in fact, I’ve run across no one else who has read it.) I was thoroughly impressed by the fascinating premise and by the skilled execution of the great idea. I think a lot of what got my attention was the idea that in some messed-up future, the most horrific of survivor reality shows would be enacted. I’ve never been a fan of pretty much any reality shows on TV, preferring well-written, original scripted programs whether they be comedy or drama, so I thought it was brilliant to take our current society’s obsession with the cheaply-produced stuff that passes for entertainment to its gory and worst-case conclusion.

Elizabeth Banks and Jennifer Lawrence star in "The Hunger Games." credit: Lionsgate Films/Murray Close

Of course, since I read the first book when it was newly published, I had to wait a year for Catching Fire. As it happened, I ended up putting my newly purchased copy on a shelf and holding on to it for a year until Mockingjay was published. At that point, I then had two fresh, unread copies of the rest of the series, but it had been two years since I’d read the first book. That meant that I had to reread The Hunger Games so I could refresh my memory. Since the books are so intense, I still had to take a little break between reading the second book and then the third, reading one or two other books in between. From what I hear, this is unusual; everyone else I know, including my husband, who isn’t a BIG-time reader, just sat down and gulped the books down in practically one sitting, reading all three straight through. For me, I just needed to take a step back from the violence and, well, sadness. Either way, though, I was gripped by the story and how it unfolded. I liked how it showed people’s resilience and the need to rebel against an oppressive government. Collins had a wonderful idea for the books and then just showed great talent as a writer in taking the story through to its conclusion. I knew that she wouldn’t tie everything up neatly in a bow and that there wouldn’t be perfect happy endings for every character; I could tell, as most readers probably did, that this would be a gritty, more “realistic” set of books, with messier but mostly true-feeling plot lines. Some were shocked by how she finished the series, but I didn’t find myself completely taken aback or annoyed by it. It worked for me.

Now that I’ve had an opportunity to see the movie adaptation, I can say I’m very satisfied. Books turned into movies can be generally very un-satisfying propositions, so to be able to attend this film and say, “Wow. That was really well done” was a happy ending for me. I wasn’t terribly pleased with the first several Harry Potter film adaptations, feeling that although they did bring to big-budget life main plot points of the first books, they somehow lost a lot of the “feel” of the books. Part of what I loved about J.K. Rowling’s writing was not just the complex world and plot arc over seven books, but the whimsy. They are so clever in the names and in all the little non-crucial, witty touches. They made me laugh. The movies just didn’t do that at first. They felt lifeless. And Twilight… that’s a whole other story altogether.

So I was pleased with the movie because it completely captured the feel and tone of the books, the harshness of the regular citizens’ lives and the hopelessness, and the barbaric nature of the Capitol’s Games, carried out with such pomp and calculated publicity every year, even as 24 teens were brutally encouraged to leave behind their humanity and kill each other to survive, just to go back to their bleak lives.

The acting was superb and the script was deftly adapted. A movie really is a different animal than a book, and much as book lovers hate it, movies must make changes as the story goes from one distinct medium to another. I love good films (my dad taught me how to appreciate the classics), and I enjoy seeing how a director and all the other skilled people who contribute to a film really bring out the best in a story using all the tricks up their sleeves. For instance, the fact that there wasn’t much music in the film was a method that contributed to its tone. When music was used, it was spare and simple, echoing the story lines.

I think what I most appreciated, though, was that the visual nature of film really struck home to viewers the messages of the story even more than the book. The book tells us about totalitarian regimes and what governments do when they have too much power; it tells us about how people still can’t keep their eyes off of watching others fight and suffer, even in larger-than-life color (the rubbernecking, train-wreck mentality). It showed us the obliviousness of the people living in the Capitol to the real lives of the rest of Panem’s citizens. The movie, though, because of its very nature, really made me think about how silly and superficial those in the Capitol were, how they pranced about in their lives of ease and wealth, wearing their ridiculous clothes and crazy makeup and hair, not caring at all that people in their own country were mostly poor and always hungry and struggling. The Hunger Games were really just a game to them, a spectacle. It was disturbing and made me realize yet again how absolutely wealthy I truly am compared to so many people around the world, and so many of us here in the United States are, but even so, most of us complain that there are still others richer than we are, rather than thinking about the many who are poorer. We go around getting plastic surgery and Botox and spend ridiculous amounts of money on electronics and fattening fast food while others are struggling just to have something to eat. We sit in our comfortable living rooms watching big-screen TVs with scenes playing out of “reality” that’s not at all real: people pretending to love each other and women fighting each other for the “love” of one superficial guy, other people supposedly using survival skills to “win” on a remote island that’s been rigged for the show.

I was nervous about the violence of the movie, since the books truly are about violence. I will just briefly say I was pleased not to be too overwhelmed by violent images. The issue of violence in books and movies in general is something I find really interesting and important, but that will be a topic for another day. Suffice it to say for now that I enjoyed both this book and its movie version, and I was pleased that it made the leap between mediums in a satisfying manner.

Creative juices

Life is full of all kinds of things. Here, I will write about whatever else just strikes my fancy, because, hey, this is my blog. Just expect this page probably to fill up with all kinds of odds and ends and miscellanea. I suppose this is the web version of that catchall drawer everyone has in the kitchen and/or office: you never know what you may find. Here’s hoping that whatever you do find here, you find it to be entertaining, uplifting, inspiring or informative in some way, or a combination of all of the above.

So I’ve been thinking lately again about all the things I’ve found interesting over the years. With my children getting older and finding their own interests and getting involved in activities, I am telling them what I used to do. My oldest, who turns 16 in a few months, plays clarinet in band and has been loving that. She also plays piano and is quite good at it, considering how few official lessons she’s had. She doesn’t really feel passionate about singing, though. She also loves art; she’s loved to draw and paint for years, and her creations are just astonishingly beautiful and true to life. My third daughter, who is going to be 10 in a few months, has decided she wants to run track at her elementary school (they do this for fourth grade!). It cracked me up a bit when she said she wanted to try shotput. My girls are petite little things, willowy and trim. So when the 9-year-old said, “That shotput is heavy! My arm is feeling, well… not very strong,” I had to laugh. I said, “You’re not exactly a beefy kid. The people who do shotput are usually a bit beefier than you. You, well, you’re more veggie.” But, hey, if she wants to try that (and the long jump and high jump), then great.

This younger one also decided that she may very well be interested in drama. I’ve taken her to see some plays, and after the most recent performance, she voiced her interest. Not surprising. My oldest has never shied away from public speaking; in fact, she’s quite good at it. But she’s never wanted the spotlight or wanted to perform in that way. But the 9-year-old, well, she is more of a spotlight gal. I think she’ll be great up on the stage.

These burgeoning interests are reminding me of all that I used to do. I performed in community theater as a young person; in fact, as I informed my 9-year-old, I was the star of a play at the university where my dad taught when I was in 7th grade. It was great fun. I helped out stage-managing and performing at our Playhouse in the Park in high school during the summers; I would have acted more, but I had band camp and other activities during the summer that interfered with the schedule. I marched in band for a couple of years. I played piano. I enjoyed singing.

Talking about those activities now with my girls, I miss those days of involvement. Now, I’m just as heavily involved in life, but with different kinds of pursuits, more “adult,” “responsible” things. I work a little, editing other people’s writing. (That’s at least something I get paid for.) I write and review books (a pursuit for which I am not paid). I volunteer with a variety of organizations, right now the band boosters. Mainly, I run a household, which is pretty demanding and complex work, but it’s not focused on me; it’s focused on my husband and children. But sometimes now I miss holding a French horn in my arms and creating lovely music and being right in the middle of a band that’s surrounding me with all the harmonies of 60 instruments working together as one. I miss standing on a stage and reciting words someone else has written that inspire or amuse because I’m bringing them to life. I miss all the cool stuff I did that brought out all my creative juices.

Now I’m exercising my abilities to bring out my children’s juices (hey, I’m a juicer!); I’m refining my interests and learning to manage my time and resources, exercising restraint. I can’t do it all, not at once, but I can do a few things that really inspire me the most. For now, that works for me.