Balancing Act – Angie Mizzell

Hey, I have a question…

May 17, 2012 By Angie 13 Comments

Just one question. For you. Even if you read my blog via email and don’t normally click over to comment. Even if you comment all the time. I just got an overwhelming sense to ask this question, right now. Like stop what I’m doing and write this and publish it.

Because that’s how I roll these days.

So here it is:

How has this blog helped you? And how might it help others?

Okay, that’s two questions. But if you replace that first question mark with a comma, it’s like one BIG (two-part) question. I’m not fishing for compliments. I assume if you’ve been around this long you think I’m an okay person. But as I said in this post, I want this space to be about so much more than just me. And it finally occurred to me to check in with you to get some ideas about how I might move forward.

I know, right? Duh. Thanks for being patient with me. And thanks in advance for your answers.

Filed Under: Balancing Act

How mama gets her groove back

April 30, 2012 By Angie 11 Comments

“Mommy, why is your belly still fat?” Dillon asked.

Before I had a chance to respond, my husband jumped in and defended my honor. “Because she had a baby in there!”

“It’s going to take a little more time, Dillon,” I said. I can’t expect my 6-year-old to appreciate that his baby sister—my third child, thankyouverymuch—is only 11 weeks old, and that my clothes are getting looser by the day.

Everything about my life is in transition right now—from the blog, to my daily routine, to the state of my closet—so when a woman from Fresh Produce contacted me and asked me if I’d be willing to select an item from their spring clothing line and write a review, I said yes. I need clothes. They have clothes. It just made sense.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the open shoulder Catalina Escape Top:

It felt a little Flashdance inspired, in a 2012 sort of way, and I liked how the top showed off the upper body and was flowy through the waist and hips.

I ordered a small and crossed my fingers it would fit. Surprisingly, it was too big. So I sent it back and got the extra small. Take that, Dillon!

It arrived just in time. Shawn and I were invited to a birthday party last weekend (sans kids) and I got to wear my new top. The babysitter snapped this photo before we left:

And here’s another of me at the party, gazing off into the distance:

I’m probably thinking, “Oh, my goodness, I don’t have children hanging on me that feels ah-maz-ing.” I also wore jeans and strappy heels. It probably would have looked better if the jeans were darker, but again, I’m dealing with a rather limited wardrobe at the moment.

The top is 100% cotton and very soft, and it held up fine in the washer and dryer. No shrinking and no wrinkles, which is awesome because I’m all about convenience right now. When I browsed the Fresh Produce site, I liked the easy, breezy feel of the spring collection. And I’d like to think that the easy, breezy part of my personality still exists, if only for two hours on a Saturday afternoon.

More from Fresh Produce: Women’s Tops, Casual Outfits, and Cruise Clothing. Children’s and plus sizes are also available.

Filed Under: Balancing Act

Don’t defend it. Own it.

April 16, 2012 By Angie 43 Comments

I stood in line at the coffee shop Saturday morning, mulling over the blog post I intended to write. I was coming off my first spring break as a stay-at-home/attempt-to-write-at-home mom of three kids: a two-month-old, an almost 3-year-old and a 6-year-old. I looked ahead to summer vacation and wondered whether a babysitter is the answer to my productivity and sanity issues.

And then I saw this:

No, not the story about the roaches. That’s just gross. I’m referring to the big headline in the middle: “‘We do work hard’. Stay-at-home moms defend their roles in wake of Ann Romney-Hilary Rosen comments.”

I’m not here to discuss Rosen saying Romney “hasn’t worked a day in her life”. To me, that’s just political blah blah blah. Here’s what made me want to ask the barista to add a shot of vodka to my chai latte:

Women still feel the need to defend themselves?

Why does a woman—any woman—believe she has to validate her self worth and defend her life circumstances or choices? And who really wants to win the “I work harder than you” contest? That conversation sounds like a dangerous race to become the most miserable.

The other day, a well-known powerhouse kind of a woman contacted me, wanting to know if we could collaborate in some way. My answer was yes. Heck yes. When we discussed a time to meet she realized I stay home with my kids. She said, “I don’t know how you do it. My kids are in daycare.”

And I said, “I don’t think I ‘do it’ very well.”

The wonderful thing about our conversation is that we weren’t judging or raising curious eyebrows. We were two unique women, filled with respect and a genuine interest in one another. How might we join forces? We’re not sure, but we’re going to figure it out.

Long before I became a mom, I went to my doctor to have a mole checked but ended up confessing that I hated my job. I was the crime reporter at a local television station. I even had my own commercial. Everything looked good on paper, but I felt completely lost without a sense of personal or professional direction. I felt stuck. I felt trapped. I worried that the ladder to success led to misery and that one day, I’d reach the top with a shiny resume and a hole in my soul.

My doctor looked at me with compassion and she said, “I have my career and I have my family. And it’s hard. I used to think I could have it all. Now I realize I have to make choices.”

That was a defining moment in my life.

What did it mean to have “it all”, anyway? I’d spent a lot of time wanting what other people had and shaping my life according to other people’s standards and expectations. But what did I want? Had I given myself a chance to stop and think about it? I’d spent a lot of time in motion. Working towards a goal. Running away from pain. It was the first time it occurred to me that I actually had a choice.

My doctor didn’t tell me to work harder. She told me she understood. She showed me I wasn’t alone in this fight. We live our life by making choices.

There’s not one right way to do it, my friends. This business of being a woman.

We have so much to share. So much to learn from one another. We can spend all day defending our choices, validating our self-worth, debating over political commentary. But what if we just stopped? Stop defending. Stop dividing. Stop looking at who has it easier, who works harder. Examine your life. Reconcile your choices. And own it.

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Filed Under: Balancing Act, Redefining Success

You are worth the fight.

April 2, 2012 By Angie 26 Comments

The other night my cell phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number. I let it go to voice mail because, I mean, don’t you? A woman left a message and said she thought her friend was going through postpartum depression and was seeking help. She explained that a Google search produced my name and number, most likely because of my position as race director for the Moms’ Run a couple of years ago. The run raises money for the Ruth Rhoden Craven Foundation for Postpartum Depression Awareness. I called the woman immediately and connected her with the people who could help.

When I listened to the message, my first reactions were concern and relief. Concern because so many women experience PPD and suffer silently. Relief because this woman was willing to reach out and fight for a friend.

Sometimes I’ve wondered if what I experience after having babies is PPD or the more common “baby blues”. Whenever I take quizzes like this, they come back inconclusive. Since I’ve had Cate, some days have been better than others. I went to the OBGYN recently, and she said, “I hate postpartum.” And honestly, it’s validating to hear those kinds of things… when a fully functioning woman… a medical professional… admits that it’s hard.

It is hard. And I try to remember that on days when I’m at my tipping point. My ability to experience many good days in the midst of the difficult ones probably makes me more normal than I feel sometimes. What concerns me about our society in general is what we’ve come to accept as normal. Is it really normal to go as much as we go and do as much as we do and produce as much as we produce? I’m ambitious. I love to work. But I wonder sometimes.

I’ve studied stress management for years, long before babies came into the picture. The first time I ever heard someone say “you gotta take care of you before you can take care of anyone else” I was 29 years old and had just quit my job in TV. To say I was stressed and depressed feels like an understatement. And it came from years and years of ignoring my inner voice, telling me so many things I didn’t want to hear. Because listening to that voice requires action. It requires making changes I wasn’t yet ready to make.

When I finally broke free from that bondage, I told myself I’d never get to that place again. I’m not sure I’ve done an excellent job of that. It’s hard to break old patterns of saying yes when I mean no, of taking on other people’s stuff, of doing what I think I should do rather than listening to my own soul speak.

But today I have something I didn’t have then: awareness. I remember I have the ability to pull myself out of a slump. I have a willingness to fight for myself. I’m not sure where that comes from. Probably from knowing I’m loved by many and the grace of God.

Last week, Andra wrote a powerful post about how everybody hurts. And since then, I’ve been hearing REM’s Michael Stipe reminding me to hold on. And what’s funny about that is before Andra wrote the post, I’d been walking around for days singing Wilson Phillips’ “Hold on for one more day”. I’d sing the song and think about the movie Bridesmaids and laugh.

But that’s how I do it, friends. That’s how I stay afloat when the days—not just the postpartum days—get hard. I wrap myself in a theme song, or I go to Starbucks and get a frappachino with an extra shot of espresso, or I exercise, or drink a big glass of water, or browse Barnes and Noble.

I pray. I hug my babies. I take a nap. I call a friend. I write.

I remember I’m worth the fight.

And I feel better.

What helps you hold on?

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Filed Under: Balancing Act, Popular Posts

What pulls me apart holds me together

March 26, 2012 By Angie 21 Comments

Dillon was sick again. Blake had more than the usual share of snot running out of his nose. I shifted from Wednesday to sick day, and conceded that most of my to-dos would probably not get done.

But there was one thing I really needed to do. In the grand scheme of life it could have waited until the next day. Of course it could have waited. Most things can wait. I heard all the voices: Life is short and children grow up quickly and today, your kids need their mommy. I needed the world to stop spinning. Just stop moving for thirty minutes. Okay, 45. I always underestimate how much time something will take, so the extra 15 wouldn’t hurt.

Please, just slow down.

Sometimes the simplest—and the hardest—thing to do is be their mom. Dillon is a big boy now, so taking care of him involved tucking him into a snug cocoon on the couch and turning on his favorite TV show. But not Blake. It was barely 9am and he was already bored. He insisted on standing two inches from the television screen. Mommy, hold you. Mommy, I want a snack. Oh, sorry Mommy, I spilled it. I watched as coffee stained the pages of Seth Godin’s Tribes. The book is about being a leader. I was being a terrible leader. A terrible mom. The voices of reason wrestled with the voices of my critics.

Angie, you just had a baby. You have three kids. You’re supposed to be tired and cranky. Give yourself a break.

I thought that once I took a leap of faith and started doing work that really mattered to me, work that added a sense of purpose and meaning to my life, it would get easier somehow. I thought it would make me feel whole, not fragmented. Not so conflicted. But sometimes the tug is so strong I feel defenseless. The work is like a fourth child. Calling to me. Demanding my attention. I don’t want to choose. But I can’t be everywhere, everyone at once.

I glanced over at Cate, so tiny and precious, sound asleep in the vibrating bouncy chair. Thank you, Little Miss.

Later, she stirred and let out a pitiful baby moan. I picked her up and noticed she was hot. Yellow gooey stuff was oozing from her eyes. I called Shawn at work and told him to come home so I could take Cate to the pediatrician.

My infant is sick. I felt sober, awake and calm as I heard the doctor say, “I’m sending you to MUSC. And you need to be prepared because they will probably admit her.” I put Cate in the car and headed downtown to the hospital. I called Shawn with instructions. “This is going to sound so much worse than it probably is. It’s probably just a virus but they have to make sure. I need you to pack a bag for me. Can you make a list?”

The world had stopped spinning. There was no confusion. No tug. No conflict. I sat with Cate in a hospital room while they ran a bunch of tests. We bonded and I played paparazzi. She gave me the stink eye:

Two days later, Cate and I came home. The house was clean. My husband was my hero. Dillon and Blake were the most adorable creatures I’d ever seen.

Cate is six weeks old now. She is well. My family has been showered with so much love my heart might pop. And the work still calls out to me. Another story, demanding attention. Waiting to be told. And sometimes the world stops spinning, and I remember that what pulls me apart also holds me together.

Filed Under: Balancing Act, Popular Posts

How real is too real?

March 19, 2012 By Angie 20 Comments

I’ve been told that I’m a person who appears to have it all together. And that’s all fine and good, but sometimes it leaves me feeling a little awkward. On one hand, having it together is a good thing, right? On the other hand, the perception concerns me. Because I’m confused, insecure, sad and overwhelmed more often than I care to admit.

The other day I met a friend for coffee. The intention was to have a mocha and catch up. Instead she got tears and too much information. I apologized countless times. For being a buzz kill. For “dumping my crazy in her lap.” But if you can’t dump your crazy in the lap of a friend, where can you dump it? The way I see it, you can’t have intimate, close relationships with people if they never get to see your crazy.

I believe most of us crave that closeness. That unconditional love. It’s hard to find. And in those rare relationships where that level of intimacy exists, I’m terrified of blowing it. I’m afraid that if someone really sees me, all of me, they’ll hit the road. And that fear drives the need to wear a mask with a painted on smile. To play a part. To protect other people’s feelings instead of being honest about my own.

Why am I telling you this? Because I believe that to ever find whatever it is we’re seeking in life, we have to expose that fear. We have to recognize it. Shine the light on it and be brave enough to stare it in the face. I believe that’s how you make the demon loosen its grip.

After my last post, James commented: I think that there is a fine line between genuine and sharing too much. I think that most of us that do write online struggle with how much is too much. Some things are just too personal to share online, or at least that is how I feel. Maybe I am wrong.

But I don’t think James is wrong at all. Some things are too personal. So I commented back: You don’t have to talk about EVERYTHING to tell the truth. My mentor and friend Kelly Love Johnson said once, “Be honest enough so that people can relate, not so honest they cringe!”

James and I were talking specifically about blogging. But I think the rule can apply to real life. So as I discover and accept the authentic me, I’m also seeking balance. If I “dump my crazy” on a friend, I’m willing and ready to return the favor. And if my outward persona gives off the vibe that I have it all together, then great! Because you know what? I’m trying to do this thing called life the very best I can. Life’s too short to let darkness rule the roost.

I am the good and the bad, the confident and the insecure, the together and the mess all rolled into one. That’s my real. What’s yours?

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Filed Under: Balancing Act

When you know better, you do better. Part two

February 27, 2012 By Angie 6 Comments

This week, I’ll ease back into reality and the fantabulous world of kiddie car pool. I’ve taken pretty good care of myself since Cate was born; I’ve accepted help from family and friends, taken a few daytime naps and broken a million “rules” you find in all those parenting books.

I’m ready. But I’m sure I’ll have my moments and they will find their way to the blog.

In the meantime, I’ll share an essay I wrote for Hybrid Her back in 2009, shortly after Blake was born. While I like to don my tiara on special occasions, rest assured, I’m not wearing it this week.

Not So Supermom

About a month before I gave birth to my second child, I took an online quiz. Which Superhero was I? I was dying to know. On Facebook, I had adopted a strict “no quiz” policy. But since I’d found the Superhero quiz on a friend’s blog, the rule didn’t count.

I answered a series of questions and the results came back as I expected. I was, in fact, Wonder Woman. I lacked Lynda Carter’s rock-hard body, tiara and teeny blue shorts covered in stars. But I remembered the summer of 1980, when I ran around barefoot sporting a pair of Wonder Woman Underoos. I took this as proof the test was highly credible.

Shortly after my son was born, my superpowers—fueled by adrenaline, 800 milligrams of ibuprofen and a daily dose of Starbucks—were intact. I felt ready to take on the challenge of mothering two children. I put on my cape, muscled through the sleep deprivation and attempted to resume life as normal. I reasoned that getting out of the house would be good for my three-year-old, and for me. So with my newborn in tow, we went to play dates, the museum, an indoor playground and the pool. We had lunch with friends and entertained visitors.

So maybe I overdid it, just a bit. Eventually, the Lasso of Truth reeled me in.

When my throat began to hurt, I ignored the symptoms. I kept going when I lost my voice. But when I started to look a little less like Wonder Woman and more like the corpse of Lynda Carter, I went to the doctor. The doctor concluded I had a viral infection and said I needed more rest. What? No caffeine patch? No miracle drug to instantly zap me back to health? I resisted the urge to laugh/cry in her face and agreed that she was probably right.

But how, I wondered, is it possible to give my children what they need? Will I ever learn how to love them and care for them and simultaneously take care of myself? When will I find time to work, date my husband, sleep and exercise? I had just gotten my groove back after having my first child. Was it possible to lose it that quickly?

I pondered these questions as I spent a quiet week at home with my kids. I traded my tiara for yoga pants and nursing tanks, and my three-year-old entertained himself with his cars and trains. I got better acquainted with the daily rhythms of my newborn. I even experienced a rare moment when the heavens opened up and both children napped at the same time.

So, while I may resemble Wonder Woman, I have resolved that my fantastic superpowers have limits. Maybe I’m doing my children more good by revealing my greatness, as well as my weakness, rather than perpetuating the fantasy that I can do it all. Because I can’t. At least not all at once.

And that is okay.

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Filed Under: Balancing Act, Life with Kids

When you know better, you do better. Part one

February 24, 2012 By Angie 9 Comments

Cate is two weeks old day.

Two weeks ago, I went to the doctor for my scheduled appointment. We’d been watching my blood pressure and keeping an eye on Cate. I saw the look on my doctor’s face and knew what she was going to say.

“It’s time to have a baby.” We were fine, but I had carried Cate long enough.

There was a moment in the hospital room when my husband had left to pick up Dillon and Blake from school, and I was alone. I stopped texting and turned off the TV. I listened to the thump thump thump of Cate’s heartbeat on the monitor. I breathed it all in and took a picture in my mind.

About a week before Cate was born, I was listening to a conversation with Jane Fonda and Elizabeth Lesser on Oprah radio. (Think what you want. I love me some Oprah radio.) Fonda was talking about how she had gotten into blogging, and Lesser asked what Fonda thought about it: Does blogging take you from the moment? Does it keep you from experiencing what’s right in front of you? Fonda said (paraphrasing here) that she felt like she was punctuating the moment. Underlining the moment with ink.

So when people ask me how I’m managing to blog during this time, that’s what I think about.

This morning, I was going to write about something completely different, but the title was same. As soon as I sat down at my laptop, Cate woke up. I fed her and balanced the computer on the edge of the Boppy. I looked down and her eyes were wide open. So I stopped typing. Then Blake called from upstairs, “Daddy! Help!” Nothing was wrong. He always cries for help when he wants us to come get him. When Blake had been “saved” he cuddled up beside Cate and me. I moved the laptop out of the way. Then Dillon woke up and tried to squeeze his way onto the couch.

I watched the scene unfold. I took another picture in my mind. A couple of minutes later, Cate was asleep. The boys lost interest and moved on to toys and cartoons.

Now, I’m simply punctuating the moment. Underlining the moment with ink. Funny how the title still fits.

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Filed Under: Balancing Act, Life with Kids

Embracing (and escaping) the big black hole of yuck

January 9, 2012 By Angie 22 Comments

My friend sent me a link to a blog post last week and before I knew it, I’d spent a good twenty minutes on this woman’s site. Her name is a Glennon, a recovering bulimic and alcoholic and mom of three, and she has quite a following (this is an understatement). Glennon is beautiful and her family looks picture-perfect, and I suspect some passersby are guilty of dismissing all that loveliness without recognizing what it took for her to get where she is today.

The post was about how people always tell her to seize the moment, be aware, be happy and how “carpe diem” just doesn’t work for her. (She does an amazing job of explaining what does work for her, and it’s worth the read.) As I sat there, slurping her words like an original ICEE (coca-cola flavor with a little bit of cherry, please), I thought, Gulp, that sort of sounds like me. Didn’t I declare 2012 as the year to be in the moment? To stop putting off the things that really matter until later? The year of eyes wide open, the year to live? And yet I felt myself agreeing with her 100%. Glennon’s perspective made me examine my own perspective. I’m one of those people who feels guilty for not enjoying motherhood enough. When I’ve had a bad day, my first inclination is to wonder what I did wrong. I began to wonder if I’m being honest enough, with myself and with you.

After some thought, I concluded this: I purposely write about discovering happiness and soaking up all those magical moments in life. One day I might expose my heart and the next I smooth it over with humor and silliness. This is actually my real-life personality. But it’s also a coping mechanism. I turn my focus to all that is good and right and beautiful and funny about my life, because that’s how I deal. It doesn’t mean that I believe (or that I want you to believe) that my life is always good and right and beautiful and funny. But I suspect you already know that.

The fact is that most of us have a behind-the-scenes story about what it took for us to get where we are today. That story is not always pretty. Life is made up of peaks and valleys. I will never stop celebrating the peaks. But I need to stop judging myself on those days I’m in the valley. The goal is not to be happy every single second but to remember to free myself from the giant black hole of yuck. Make a pit stop but don’t move in.

On a related note, in this month’s issue of Lowcountry Parent, I interview my personal trainer Zach Conrad about New Year’s resolutions. “We create our goals from a place of fear or a place of faith,” he says. “When you set your goals out of fear, you are focused on the obstacles. Subconsciously, you’re telling yourself you can’t do it.” But when you approach your goals from a place of faith and can see yourself reaching those goals, he says, “Miracles happen.”

More miracles. Less fear. Ditch perfection. Works for me. What about you?

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Filed Under: Balancing Act

Come on get happy, darn it!

December 7, 2011 By Angie 5 Comments

Here’s something I’ve come to learn over time: Happiness is a choice, yes. But it can’t be forced and it can’t be faked. I may succeed in all that forcing and faking for a while—but eventually the performance gets exhausting. Sometimes, we don’t feel happy, and that is okay. In fact, it’s normal.

The Christmas season can be especially hard, because it’s infused with the expectation of happiness. I explore this topic in this month’s Lowcountry Parent magazine. Click here to read the column and let me know what you think.

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