All posts by Magda Pecsenye

Create a low-stress Christmas season for yourself

It’s back, and better than before! Get Christmased: Create the Christmas season that works for you and your family is a workbook that walks you through a process of figuring out what is meaningful about the Christmas season for you and what isn’t, and helps you make deliberate decisions about what to keep and what to toss during the holiday season.

Available in paperback for $9.99 (it’s taking 2-3 days to get to people in the US) or Kindle for $3.49 (instantaneous and you can read it on your phone with the free Kindle app). If you get the Kindle version, you’ll need a little notebook to write down your answers to all the questions in and sketch out your plans.

This is my labor of love, because I know how painful, confusing, and intense the Christmas season can be for so many of us, that I wanted to help us pull it apart a little and make some conscious choices that would help us instead of letting us keep feeling hurt.

Doing the workbook seems to help the most if you can get it done and planned before American Thanksgiving, so order now and then do it in snatches of time here and there while you’re waiting for your kids.

(Here’s the link to the Canadian Kindle version, for $4.59.)


Vent here safely for Mother’s Day

If you need to vent, vent here. Any topic: being a mother, not being a mother, having a complicated relationship with your mother, missing your mother, never knowing your mother, hating the commercialism and competition of the day, being alone on Mother’s Day, etc.

No Misery Poker: all pain is valid. If you have a kind word for someone else, share it, but don’t feel bad if you don’t have extra for anyone else.

Guest post: My name is Angie

This is a guest post from a friend of mine from high school. Please read it and pass it on. You don’t know who’s living with the same pain of addiction and needs to hear her story. And if you’re living with addiction, you can get help.

My name is Angie.  I’m a mom. I’m a daughter and a sister. I’m a 1993 graduate of high school in Toledo, OH. I’m also an alcoholic /narcotics addict who has been clean and sober for over 27 months now. I want to share my story, in hopes of helping someone, anyone, overcome the clenches of addiction.

I had a great childhood. My parents are still married. I wasn’t a kid from the streets with a tragic upbringing. I still ended up with monstrous demons that almost took me out. Yes, 28 months ago, I was homeless and strung out on Percocet.  I was also suicidal; I was done being an addict.  I was done hurting.  Thankfully, I never lost custody of my son, but my mother had already filed the papers. I knew it was get clean, or lose the only reason I existed. Even though in my diseased brain, I had convinced myself he would be better off without me.  I was convinced the world would be better off without me.  Boy was I wrong. 

December 14, 2000, my father was crushed in a front end loader that left him paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair.  He was the family rock and backbone.  With his accident came the end of my family unit as I would ever know it.  Now, backing up a bit, my father was very hard on us growing up.  See, his family was like a poor version of the Kennedy’s; everyone had a tragic story.  He wanted more for us, wanted us to know respect and self discipline.  My father is an alcoholic, 30+ years sober now.  When I was a little girl, I wished my father dead over and over.  I didn’t realize in my small mind he was doing what he did because he didn’t want us to fail in life.  I didn’t realize how much my father truly loved us.  When his accident happened, even though I was 25 years old, the little girl inside of me crumbled.  She screamed “We did this to him!”  That started the ball rolling for my downward spiral.

For the next 2 years, I drank uncontrollably.  I held a job; I didn’t need alcohol in the morning or the middle of the night, so in my mind I wasn’t an alcoholic.  It’s not the amount I was drinking, or the frequency, but what that drink did to me.  I would black out.  I literally do not remember an equivalent of years of my life.  That’s an alcoholic. 

Let’s now fast forward to 2007.  I was the single mother of a 2 yr old son; I was a Worker’s Compensation Paralegal for a very successful and well known law firm in NW Ohio.  My career was Worker’s Comp in honor of my father.  I had gotten shingles on the side of my neck and boy was I in pain.  I went to the emergency room at Flower Hospital.  I was given 2 vicodin.  That was the fist time I had taken a narcotic pain pill as an adult.  I will never forget the feeling of euphoria that came over me 30 mins later.  Wow, I loved these things!  With drinking, I was out of control.  I couldn’t’ remember things.  It would smell on my breath and clothes.  These tiny little pills fit right into my purse.  And I was in pain, dammit.  If I wasn’t, the doctor wouldn’t give them to me, right?  Boy was I wrong.

Over the next few years, I went from being in pain to creating pain.  I lost my paralegal job I loved so much, due to layoff mind you, but it was gone.  My kid brother had gotten locked up for selling cocaine and heroin.  He was gone for 5 years.  My parents are aging and my father is obviously sickly.  My addiction went into full swing.  The doctor writing for the Percocet realized I was in trouble and stopped writing for them.  I then started buying them off the streets.  Now, walking away from the booze left me with no physical symptoms.  It was obtainable and reasonably priced.  Not the pills.  I was sicker than I had ever been in my life when I just stopped taking them.  Not to mention, they were expensive.  I blew through my 401K plan and any and all jewelry I owned of value, and my parents.  My poor, sweet parents lost their valuable jewelry.  Then I started shop lifting.  The problem was, I was good at it.  I stole from everywhere.  In January, 2011, I was busted leaving Kohl’s with a whole cart full of merchandise.  Over $1,000 worth of merchandise.  Anything over $500 was a trip downtown.  I was mortified.  I spent the night and jail and was released the next day.  I was pretty much slapped on the wrist and given fines to pay.  The most embarrassing part was being in Crime Times. 

I then detoxed myself off of the pills.  I didn’t need that kind of headache and I was out of all resources, so I was convinced I would stop taking them, no matter the cost.  In a few days’s time I was feeling much better and convinced that was all behind me and I didn’t need professional treatment.  Boy was I wrong.

About 6 months later, my brother had gotten back from jail and was turning into a tool.  He was rude, vicious and plain mean.  My diseased brain, still not properly cared for by a physician, told me it was time to relapse.  I wanted to die after my relapse.  I let everyone down.  I let myself down.  I decided to take my grandfather’s checkbook that also had my father’s name on it, and wrote myself some checks.  I bought a bunch of #30 Percocets and I was going to eat them until I couldn’t eat them anymore.  I thought death was the only answer.  I never considered treatment, mind you.  I. Just.  Wanted. To. Die.  I wanted the whole mess to be over.  I NEEDED for the demons to be set free.  That day I had to get my car from the dealership after having repairs done.  My plan was so send my son home with my mother; I would get into my car, get a hotel room and execute my master plan to leave this world.  Well, my son would NOT get out of my car.  He was on full meltdown mode, screaming and crying.  Did he KNOW??  Was that even possible?  So, I took him with me.  We drove to my second favorite place on the earth, Columbus, OH.  I got us a hotel room.  I played the doting mother.  I took him to the Lego Store.  I made a lunch date with my mother’s only brother.  I played like we were on vacation, the whole time having no idea what I would do next.  See, before I picked up my car, my father got a call from the bank.  I knew I was caught, but I hadn’t planned on being around to face the music.  So, I didn’t answer my cell phone for about 4 days.  My son and I had vanished, but my parents knew what was going on.  Or so I thought.  They were a mess, but I didn’t know that, or even consider that, until later on in my story.   Then one night, as I was sitting on the balcony at our hotel room, watching my son sleep, I heard a voice.  “This is not the plan, this isn’t how this ends.  You were infertile for years and I gave you a son.  It’s YOUR JOB to see him through his life.  Pull up your big girl panties and do this life thing.”  Sunday, July 23, 2012 we returned to Toledo.  Monday, July 24, 2012, I entered treatment for my addictions and demons.  Tuesday, July 25, 2012 I turned 37 years old.

I was put on a medication called Suboxone.  It was an opiate blocker/agonist.  I went to meetings, I saw counselors.  I worked the program.  I got clean.  I forgave myself and the longer I was clean and sober, the more others forgave me.  They even started to trust me again!  I am now totally off the Suboxone and clean and sober over 27 months.  My son was never taken from me and is a straight A, Honor Roll student.  I am not where I want to be, but I am a lot farther than I was.  That’s the long and the short of my story, but I tell it for one reason.  To help someone reading this.  Maybe it’s you?  Maybe it’s a loved one?  There is help out there; you do not have to succumb to your demons, to your illness.  It’s never too late.  If you were diagnosed with cancer, would you not fight for your life? Addiction is a disease, like cancer, left untreated will kill you as swiftly as can be. I never asked for addiction, I acquired it.  I still ended up and addict all the same.  I am deserving and so are you. If I can do this, you can. 

Thank you for reading my story.  God Bless.


Parenting Truths 30: You can (and should) be true to yourself

I think a lot of us come into parenting thinking we have to be perfect. Or at least different from who we are. We’re supposed to be super-patient, strongly-bonded, overflowing with milk and kisses, morally unassailable, fascinated by truly dreadful children’s music, uninterested in anything that isn’t purely enriching, without tattoos or scars or baggage, and simply delighted to do anything that causes joy in little hearts, no matter how boring, odious, anxiety-inducing, or sanitized it is.

Well, hell. That’s just not true. 

If kids needed a beatific, generic parent we’d hold auditions for a Ma Ingalls doppleganger and then send all of our children off to her to raise. Your kids need you. Not just in your role as parent, but for yourself. Little (and big) weirdnesses and all. I could launch into some big stories about how weird my parents are and how funny that is and how endearing. Or I could tell you about how my older son was telling me genetics have nothing to do with personality and I looked at him and said, “YOU’RE EXACTLY LIKE ME” and he laughed because he knows it’s true, even down to our stress behaviors. But you have those same stories about your parents and your kids are going to have those same stories about you.

You are great. And part of what makes you a good parent is that you’re still yourself. You stand for something. You’re interested in things. You’re working through it. And all those thoughts and all that process helps you be a person your kids can depend on, to love them and to help guide them through the process of growing up and being a human. Not a cardboard perfect parent (who won’t have any sympathy when they screw up). Your learning to be human helps them learn to be human.

Parenting Truths 29: You are going to have to make some hard choices

Kids force you into making decisions you never thought you’d have to make, and give you a different set of priorities. The ideas you have about yourself and about what your life is going to look like change after you have kids, and as your kids get older. In things as simple as getting rid of your expensive super-awesome coffee table, to things as complicated as deciding to end relationships that don’t nourish you or allow you to be the best parent you can be. From making decisions about the kind of music you listen to while your kids are around, to deciding to push harder into your career or pull back from your career.

It’s a double-consciousness. The joy and connection of parenting, but being forced into decisions you didn’t know you’d have to make. Even when you’re absolutely sure of and satisfied with the decisions, you still wouldn’t have been forced to make them in such a deliberate manner if not for your child.

Even if it’s for the best, it’s still the end of your own innocence.

Parenting Truths 26: No one gets a vote unless they’re there at 3 am

I’ve been saying this one for years, but no one else gets a vote on what you do with your kid unless they’re going to be there to enforce it and deal with the consequences.

All those people who tell you how to get your kid to sleep? If they’re not going to be there with you at 3 am, they don’t have a say. All those people who tell you where you should send your kid to school? If they’re not there to deal with the feelings and homework at 4 pm, they don’t have a say. All those people who want you to do this, that, or the other thing? If they’re not standing next to your child when it all has to happen, just say #nope.

You know what’s best for your kid. You. Not some stranger in the supermarket, or some book author, or your MIL, or me. You. And if you don’t know what works now, you’ll think analytically about what you already know about your kid, and you’ll come up with some things to try until one of them works.

You are doing it.

Parenting Truths 25: Emotions matter

Sometimes it feels like parenting is all logistical. Washing things, bending over to pick things up, folding things, putting things back where they belong, stuffing things in a bag and carrying them with you, making your kids put things down, kindly requesting that your kids give things to you, buying more of the right kind of things to prevent you from needing to buy more things. It’s exhausting.

In the middle of all that doing, don’t forget about being and feeling. Emotions matter. Your emotions matter. It’s ok to feel irked or gleeful or sad or smug or whatever you’re feeling. Even if feeling what you’re feeling doesn’t change the course of your day. Even if you still have to deal with all those things and all those jobs. You still get to feel what you feel, and you can tell the people who love you, and they will support you in whatever you’re feeling.

The more you accept your own feelings, the easier it will be to accept your kids’ feelings. And kids have some deep, serious, big feelings. The only way they’ll learn to manage those feelings so they can get through life as smoothly as possible is if you help them by accepting their feelings and helping them put them in context. It’s ok to be super-angry about putting on your shoes, but you still have to put on your shoes. Both those things can exist at the same time. You can be happy to be with your friend but scared that your friend is going to want to touch your favorite toy. Learning to navigate through big feelings is important, and it only happens when feelings are accepted.

The more you stay in touch with your feelings and your kids’ feelings, the better you’ll all get at supporting each other. One of you can have a bad day and get comfort from the others, who can be having an even better day because they were able to support someone they love. It all gets better and better, even when you’re not feeling so great.

Parenting Truths 24: It all goes by so fast

Pardon the sentimentality of this post. My baby is starting seventh grade tomorrow, and he still looks exactly the same as he did the day he came out of me. Still those adorable huge cheeks. Still those deep watchful eyes. Still the most perfect face I’ve ever seen.

I know the minutes were long when he was a baby, especially the minutes after 1 am when we were both awake instead of asleep and I was pretending not to resent all that time I was missing. I don’t really remember much of the bad times. (I don’t remember many of the good times from his first few years, to be quite honest. Sleep deprivation is real.) All the old ladies told me, “The minutes are long but the years are short,” and they weren’t kidding.

Twelve years, just like that. He’s a fully-formed human, with opinions and ideas and goals and dreams that have nothing to do with me. I bet the next twelve go by just as quickly.

Take pictures. Tell stories of what your kids do. Because you may not remember, and the next thing you know they’ll be hugging you at eye level and tying neckties and cracking really sophisticated jokes.

Parenting Truths 23: You’re going to make different decisions from your friends

You don’t have to jump off a bridge just because your friends do. And you don’t have to not jump just because your friends are glued to the railing. You know what’s best for your kids and your family, and that’s what you should do.

There are stages in parenting in which making different decisions from your friends can make it hard to be around each other. In the beginning, everything seems high-stakes. So if you’re struggling with a decision or with having to carry through the decision you made, it might be difficult for you to be around someone who’s made a different decision because it’s too raw. (This is why sometimes it’s hard for moms who breastfeed and moms who formula feed to hang out when their kids are teeny–the decision [such as it is] can feel too raw for either and both of you.) But once the decision loses some of the emotional power, you can be around each other, living out your different choices, with no problems. (This is why moms of 8-year-olds rarely know and certainly don’t care how the other moms fed their kids when they were infants.)

It can also be hard to be around your friends and their kids if they make decisions about teaching boundaries and limits that are very different from your own and you feel like their children aren’t behaving in a way that you can be relaxed about. As you tell your kids, different families have different rules. If you need to take a break from spending time with a family that stresses you out, just take a break. Try to spend time with your friend away from the children so you aren’t bothered by the parenting differences.

All these decisions we make–pacifier or no, where our kids sleep, bedtimes, babysitters, schooling, technology use, discipline, expectations, friends, family time–are all so important to us at the time. But that doesn’t mean that there are absolutes in all categories, or that the same things have the same results with all kids (even with kids in the same families). So it’s good to observe what your friends are doing, but then assess what results you’ll have with your own kids, and make your decision based on that instead of what “everyone else” does.

Parenting Truths 20: You’re supposed to think your kid poops rainbows

I hear people apologizing for saying nice things about their kids all the time, and I don’t get it. Why would you feel bad about thinking your kid is great? You’re your kid’s parent–it’s your job to think your kid poops rainbows. 

If you don’t, who will? Of course you don’t always think they’re amazing, or even like them in the moment, but for the most part you probably think they’re amazing. And everyone deserves to be loved completely, even with their faults. If you don’t think your kid is fanfreakingtastic, they’ll have a much harder time later on accepting completely love from someone else as an adult. By being the president of your kid’s fan club now, you set them up for happy relationships later.

Obviously you’re still enforcing boundaries and teaching them how to interact responsibly with others and the world. But all with love, and not holding back the sense of wonder that this amazing person is your kid! So enjoy every interesting, weird, funny, excellent, magical thing about your kid, and feel good about enjoying it.