I was given a beautiful, colorful, surprising gift and a confession that had to be made. The gift - five excellent years of work (outside the home) after my first child was born. The confession - I don't regret one day of it.
This post is dedicated to My Love, without whom I am nothing. Thank you for supporting my crazy decision to stay at home these past three years. From you I have learned resolve, with you gained confidence, by you taught love.
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Standing in the too long Safeway checkout line, wondering if I could eek by in the express checkout I am suddenly transfixed. My kids are arguing, one is being just a bit too loud, the other a bit too babyish. Both are unloading the cart with me but at the same time both have one arm hanging on me, asking for gum or anything else that will rot their teeth. The little one has to potty, the older one is staring at magazines. Both keep sarcastically rousing each other... and then there is only one item left in the cart and they both lunge for it. One gets their finger stuck the other is triumphant and knows how to gloat.
I watch it all. Smile at the checker, pretend to ignore the beasts at my feet and continue on my journey. My blood pressure stayed in check. No adrenaline surges. No elderly female person telling me to enjoy these moments. Paid in full for groceries. Now on to unload (into the car) and reload (into the fridge).
These beasts are my children. My precious children. I love them. I love watching, observing their behavior, predicting who will win each argument, wondering if they will ever grow up to be upstanding citizens. An awesome experiment.
My gift....I have only been here for three years, only two more years to go and I will be back in the work force full time. Five years in total to be completely, wholeheartedly with my children. Only five years. Only five years. Only five years.
My confession...I am so happy to have had full time work the first five years of my oldest son's life. It has helped me to cherish each moment (the good, the bad and the ugly) that I have with my kids. I am not tired, I am not burned out, I am not overwhelmed. I have only two more years, and then I will be given back the gift of full time work (outside the house).
An experiment with outcomes that will far exceed any expectation I might have had.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
The Finish Line
Is it the finish line or the process in which you get there that counts? Classic Tortoise and Hair saga. But really, if I'm honest, it is the finish line that counts most for me. The blue ribbon. The recognition and the rewards. I tend to hurry through the race at top speeds in order to check it off my list and begin a new race. I am a finisher. I check my goals off the list and begin a new one with no real thought on how the process of achieving this goal might have changed me or my living habits. Completing my to-do list in the time given is top priority. I can quite easily finish anything I put my mind to. Unfortunately, the only thing achieved is that, whatever it was, is finished, crossed out...And then I move on, swiftly. I do not meditate of lessons learned, rarely praise myself, never relax, do not take stock, rarely philosophize on my living habits and never do I make the same list twice. I am an organized, efficient machine. But lately I have been finding some faults with this energizer bunny mentality.
Two years ago my dentist informed me I had two cavities (my first two cavities ever) and that if I didn't start flossing my gums would need surgery soon. I made it my goal to floss every day until my next dentist appointment. Every night, while flossing I thought about habits. How is a new habit formed. Why are habits broken? Can habits be replaced with new habits? I did my duty and flossed but at the same time I changed how I brushed my teeth. Adding flossing to my regimen didn't exactly mean that I would floss until I died but changing the way I brushed would help me remember to floss when I had forgotten. Close the deal. Cross it off the list. I have flossed every day since then. But something had changed inside me. This certain activity (flossing every day) had scared me. I doubted my ability to carry it through; to cross it off my list...I had to do something drastic. I had to totally change the way I did something else in order to help me remember to floss. Brushing differently each night was harder for me than the flossing. It was a tandem relationship. I congratulated myself but still just crossed it off my list.
In crossing this off my list, my brain started to wrap itself around the faraway thoughts of habits. How do you undo a habit? How do you start a new habit? My flossing/brushing tandem relationship stuck out at me. I began to relax into this goal with new found energy and every night, while brushing my teeth, I would mediate on habits, lists, goals and finish lines. Ultimately, months later my brain settled itself around the process of achieving. I had changed my process of brushing and linked so closely to this was my goal of flossing every night. It dawned on me that it wasn't the flossing every night that mattered (although my dentist would disagree), it was the fact that I had come up with a process for achieving my flossing goal. The finish line really didn't matter. It was the new habits I was forming that felt so good.
I gave up Coffee in December of 2012. I did great for about 3 weeks. The problem was that this too scared me. Another goal that might not be checked off the list. I thought about my process for achieving this goal and realized that alcohol would have to be given up as well. Another tandem relationship. Who knows when I might start drinking again but at least I am striving to concretely change my relationship with alcohol by dwelling on the process of achieving this goal, laying down new tracks. During this process I have decided to be more dutiful in my thankfulness. When at my wits end, think about everything (anything) that I am thankful for. Build new coping strategies, new habits.
Lately my to-do lists are shorter and if I make one I don't necessarily cross everything out. I am working on changing my attitude towards my lists. A clean house doesn't really matter if I make it known how upset I am at having to do it all myself. However, being thankful that I have a house and that I am home every day occupying its space makes me feel happy to clean it. Rushing into a career just because one is needed doesn't help with my future satisfaction. However, taking time to let the idea of a career seep into my very being helps me toy with every option. Pulling all the weeds in my yard, makes it look nice but it doesn't help that at the same time my kids keep asking me to play with them. Making a game though out of the yard work with my kids and only getting a small piece of it done does give me a successful motherhood feeling. The process of getting to where I want to go needs to look better, needs to be better. I have finally realized that the end is a pitiful place to be with no place to go. I have started to go backwards down my path. Unraveling my finish lines and actually breathing life into this process called living. It feels good.
Two years ago my dentist informed me I had two cavities (my first two cavities ever) and that if I didn't start flossing my gums would need surgery soon. I made it my goal to floss every day until my next dentist appointment. Every night, while flossing I thought about habits. How is a new habit formed. Why are habits broken? Can habits be replaced with new habits? I did my duty and flossed but at the same time I changed how I brushed my teeth. Adding flossing to my regimen didn't exactly mean that I would floss until I died but changing the way I brushed would help me remember to floss when I had forgotten. Close the deal. Cross it off the list. I have flossed every day since then. But something had changed inside me. This certain activity (flossing every day) had scared me. I doubted my ability to carry it through; to cross it off my list...I had to do something drastic. I had to totally change the way I did something else in order to help me remember to floss. Brushing differently each night was harder for me than the flossing. It was a tandem relationship. I congratulated myself but still just crossed it off my list.
In crossing this off my list, my brain started to wrap itself around the faraway thoughts of habits. How do you undo a habit? How do you start a new habit? My flossing/brushing tandem relationship stuck out at me. I began to relax into this goal with new found energy and every night, while brushing my teeth, I would mediate on habits, lists, goals and finish lines. Ultimately, months later my brain settled itself around the process of achieving. I had changed my process of brushing and linked so closely to this was my goal of flossing every night. It dawned on me that it wasn't the flossing every night that mattered (although my dentist would disagree), it was the fact that I had come up with a process for achieving my flossing goal. The finish line really didn't matter. It was the new habits I was forming that felt so good.
I gave up Coffee in December of 2012. I did great for about 3 weeks. The problem was that this too scared me. Another goal that might not be checked off the list. I thought about my process for achieving this goal and realized that alcohol would have to be given up as well. Another tandem relationship. Who knows when I might start drinking again but at least I am striving to concretely change my relationship with alcohol by dwelling on the process of achieving this goal, laying down new tracks. During this process I have decided to be more dutiful in my thankfulness. When at my wits end, think about everything (anything) that I am thankful for. Build new coping strategies, new habits.
Lately my to-do lists are shorter and if I make one I don't necessarily cross everything out. I am working on changing my attitude towards my lists. A clean house doesn't really matter if I make it known how upset I am at having to do it all myself. However, being thankful that I have a house and that I am home every day occupying its space makes me feel happy to clean it. Rushing into a career just because one is needed doesn't help with my future satisfaction. However, taking time to let the idea of a career seep into my very being helps me toy with every option. Pulling all the weeds in my yard, makes it look nice but it doesn't help that at the same time my kids keep asking me to play with them. Making a game though out of the yard work with my kids and only getting a small piece of it done does give me a successful motherhood feeling. The process of getting to where I want to go needs to look better, needs to be better. I have finally realized that the end is a pitiful place to be with no place to go. I have started to go backwards down my path. Unraveling my finish lines and actually breathing life into this process called living. It feels good.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
The Trouble with Parenting
Ever make a decision and then have to re-visit it fifty or so times to re-assess, re-direct or re-examine? It is enough to drive me crazy. I like clear cut options with clear cut directions that if followed correctly end with satisfied feelings.
This so called parenting thing doesn't work like that though. I am dealing with a dynamic impermanence that I have never before witnessed. Little beings that, by the time they take their first breath, are changing, rapidly, in a constant flux, transforming quicker than time can count.
We want the best for them. From the beginning we strive to protect, nurture, heal, encourage, support, train and keep them alive. All of the parenting choices we make - split second, thought out, strategic, in the moment and subconscious should help end the indecision. But no matter what, each parenting choice leads to more choices, more re-examining, more wondering if we did the right thing. It is like those Chose Your Own Adventure books. So many endings. So many possibilities. So many rewinds.
I get asked quite a lot by parents for sage parenting advice, tips or just pieces of kid humor. I look blankly back at the questioner/inquirer. "Your guess is as good as mine, and probably better", I say. I honestly do not know what the answer is.
There are so many questions. How should you help them fall/stay asleep, how big should I cut the pieces of food, will they choke, which school should I chose for preschool, my kid has his/her hand down her/his pants - what now, potty accidents, vitamins, elementary school teacher problems, ailments, friend choices, tantrums, intellect, sports, independence...the list goes on forever. It never stops. To make matters worse, there is NO right answer.
Don't get me wrong, I have found the right answer to these dilemmas, but then I am forced to re-evaluate the answer again and again. As my child changes, a new answer (to the same problem)presents itself. This new answer could come moments after making the decision or it could come weeks later, but it always shows itself - teasing me, taunting me, ruining my ability to wash my hands of the problem.
This re-evaluation used to make me crazy. I wanted it to be clean. Ordered. Sequential. The trouble with parenting is that it is not clean and we are never done. Lately I have been trying to embody this uncleanliness. Live within the transformation of my kids.
We used to call my older one the "Spiller." If there was a glass full of liquid on the table he would knock it over somehow. He didn't even have to be close to it. Looking back I cant remember the last time he knocked something over. Now my not-so-little bundle of joy has taken on this name. Spills abound. I remember reading somewhere that this spilling problem comes from the fact that between the age of 3 - 5 kids cannot access correctly where their hand ends. They are growing too fast and therefore when they go to grab their juice, cannot help but spill it. Imagine this for a moment. The child does not even have time to calculate his/her growth. The growth is so fast they cannot even keep up with their own body.
Living with my children's growth means not always having an answer or being okay that a new answer might present itself within a matter of minutes or days. My decisions as a parent can never be final. I am learning to live within the transformation, no mans land. This is the trouble with parenting - all is in flux.
This so called parenting thing doesn't work like that though. I am dealing with a dynamic impermanence that I have never before witnessed. Little beings that, by the time they take their first breath, are changing, rapidly, in a constant flux, transforming quicker than time can count.
We want the best for them. From the beginning we strive to protect, nurture, heal, encourage, support, train and keep them alive. All of the parenting choices we make - split second, thought out, strategic, in the moment and subconscious should help end the indecision. But no matter what, each parenting choice leads to more choices, more re-examining, more wondering if we did the right thing. It is like those Chose Your Own Adventure books. So many endings. So many possibilities. So many rewinds.
I get asked quite a lot by parents for sage parenting advice, tips or just pieces of kid humor. I look blankly back at the questioner/inquirer. "Your guess is as good as mine, and probably better", I say. I honestly do not know what the answer is.
There are so many questions. How should you help them fall/stay asleep, how big should I cut the pieces of food, will they choke, which school should I chose for preschool, my kid has his/her hand down her/his pants - what now, potty accidents, vitamins, elementary school teacher problems, ailments, friend choices, tantrums, intellect, sports, independence...the list goes on forever. It never stops. To make matters worse, there is NO right answer.
Don't get me wrong, I have found the right answer to these dilemmas, but then I am forced to re-evaluate the answer again and again. As my child changes, a new answer (to the same problem)presents itself. This new answer could come moments after making the decision or it could come weeks later, but it always shows itself - teasing me, taunting me, ruining my ability to wash my hands of the problem.
This re-evaluation used to make me crazy. I wanted it to be clean. Ordered. Sequential. The trouble with parenting is that it is not clean and we are never done. Lately I have been trying to embody this uncleanliness. Live within the transformation of my kids.
We used to call my older one the "Spiller." If there was a glass full of liquid on the table he would knock it over somehow. He didn't even have to be close to it. Looking back I cant remember the last time he knocked something over. Now my not-so-little bundle of joy has taken on this name. Spills abound. I remember reading somewhere that this spilling problem comes from the fact that between the age of 3 - 5 kids cannot access correctly where their hand ends. They are growing too fast and therefore when they go to grab their juice, cannot help but spill it. Imagine this for a moment. The child does not even have time to calculate his/her growth. The growth is so fast they cannot even keep up with their own body.
Living with my children's growth means not always having an answer or being okay that a new answer might present itself within a matter of minutes or days. My decisions as a parent can never be final. I am learning to live within the transformation, no mans land. This is the trouble with parenting - all is in flux.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Memorials and humanity
I am catching a plane to Minnesota this weekend to be with family and memorialize my Grandma, who passed away bluntly and unexpectedly a couple of months ago. My mom informed me today that there will be a time during her lakeside service to share thoughts about Grandma (GiGi, as my kids refer to her, for Great Grandma) A memory, an appreciation, an endearing trait, a funny story. Keep it short, she said, I'm sure there will be many who will want to talk.
How to memorialize a life in such succinct terms? She had so many rabbit trails, pathways and journeys that I was not privy to. What I to decide share at her service might not be correct or important. There were so many facets to her life, to my life, to all of our lives. Our stories are long and they have so many unexpected patterns. What is the sum of it all?
So here it goes.
What I appreciate about Grandma was her absolute insecurity in herself and her place on this Earth and her ability to mask this insecurity with an amazing self confidence in all areas of her life. This has taught me that the conflict between my most deplorable weakness and my most awesome strength, that wages in me every minute and hour of my days, is the purest definition of humanity. It is within this battle that I am chiseled and ironed out in the hopes of one day reaching my final conclusion. My story may take many unexpected turns and twists but it is my story. Mine alone. Mine to write. When I finally reach my last page and close my book all I can hope is that I am happy with how I engaged in battle.
All of us are on this same path. We are all battling our own hostiles. Give grace.
I love you Grandma. Thank you for teaching me this lesson.
How to memorialize a life in such succinct terms? She had so many rabbit trails, pathways and journeys that I was not privy to. What I to decide share at her service might not be correct or important. There were so many facets to her life, to my life, to all of our lives. Our stories are long and they have so many unexpected patterns. What is the sum of it all?
So here it goes.
What I appreciate about Grandma was her absolute insecurity in herself and her place on this Earth and her ability to mask this insecurity with an amazing self confidence in all areas of her life. This has taught me that the conflict between my most deplorable weakness and my most awesome strength, that wages in me every minute and hour of my days, is the purest definition of humanity. It is within this battle that I am chiseled and ironed out in the hopes of one day reaching my final conclusion. My story may take many unexpected turns and twists but it is my story. Mine alone. Mine to write. When I finally reach my last page and close my book all I can hope is that I am happy with how I engaged in battle.
All of us are on this same path. We are all battling our own hostiles. Give grace.
I love you Grandma. Thank you for teaching me this lesson.
Monday, May 13, 2013
What will you do with your time?
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I have fallen apart over my kids and I am slowing learning how to be put back together. I am taking advantage of this time given to me to live strategically and intentionally so that I may be authentic in all my interactions. |
I didn't anticipate that my kids would slowly unravel me, crack me apart and spill my guts all over the street. But I also didn't think they had the ability to put me back together.
After my oldest stomped his way upstairs tonight, mad after two hours of lego building that he couldn't figure out the last step and mad that his mom was trying to save the day when (he reminded me) just two years ago, I had destroyed his play mobile castle when carrying it across the floor, (it slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor), I begrudgingly climbed the stairs to "have a talk." As I reached for the banister I instantly understood his angst. My childhood was thrown back in my face. It hit me pretty hard. Unraveling emotions I didn't care to think about. Why didn't I ever trust my own parents when I was little? They always seemed to know just the right way to take care of things. It made me mad.
I had a good chuckle. I cant believe he remembers when I broke that castle! Reaching the last step I figured that if he could remember the castle he for sure was going to remember how I reacted to his feelings. I walked into his room and rather calmly let him know that I had figured out the last step (I didn't break anything) and that I was hoping he would come down so I could show him. As I walked out I heard a faint, "thank you." Once at the table again I reminded him that it is not okay to yell when frustrated, that we can indeed work as a team. He agreed. I sighed a big sigh of relief. I hadn't lost my temper. But, I still was unsure about what our teamwork would look like in the future.
Time marches on. It can be a gift or it can be a slave master. Since birthing my children and up until a few months ago I have been ruled by time. I have deemed myself powerless. My emotions have been a rollercoaster of good, bad and ugly. There has been no strategic plan, no forethought, no lessons learned. Just time. Get through the day. Get through the phase. Get through the age. As I am "getting through" all of this my kids break me down, clear cut my nice scenery. Make me tired. Gut me.
As I kissed my not so little bundle of joy goodnight this evening I was instantly thrown back into time. Four years ago my oldest was her age. Only 4 years old. The transition of having a baby sister was just too much to handle. One night, while My Love was traveling, he got frustrated with one of his toys and threw a tantrum. He came into her room while I was trying to get her to sleep and kept repeating the same thing over and over again. He wouldn't leave me alone. I lost my cool. I got really angry. I put his little sister down in her crib and proceeded to yell and scream at him. We went at it. Nobody won. While replaying this nasty memory I wondered if he still remembered it too. My heart cracked wide open.
Lately my kids are helping put me back together. I have decided that I don't want to just get through the day. I want my kids to have good memories of these years. I want my kids to be better at this parenting thing than I am. I want my kids to see me laugh and sing. I have one year left until his baby sister goes to Kindergarten. One year. What can I do with a year?
A few days ago I picked my oldest up from school. As is our habit we stayed so that he could play on the playground. His sister was sleeping in the stroller and he asked me to play tag. Why not? We played tag. I ran. He ran. We laughed. The best part though was after the tag we hung upside down on the bars together. We looked at each other upside down and laughed. "You look pretty good upside down," I said. "I have never seen you upside down," he said. "We should do it more often," I said.
I am slowly being put back together and it feels good. I gave up coffee and alcohol in January and have started exercising regularly. I am striving to find ways to be thankful for all I have been given. I am trying to giggle more and am learning to let things go. Professionally I am trying to figure out my next steps that will put me unto a career path that makes me happy while juggling the needs of my grown up family. There is so much that can be accomplished in one year!
I have fallen apart over my kids and I am slowing learning how to be put back together. I am taking advantage of this time given to me to live strategically and intentionally so that I may be authentic in all my interactions.
Thank you to my children -- without you I never would have had to be put back together -and I am so much a better person for it!
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Brain Clutter. Your last regret?
I often wonder what my last thought will be. My last memory. My last dream. My last spoken word. My last gesture. There are some spaces in time that consciously go into my "last moment" rolodex. There are other periods of time that just like to take up space. Like when you are trying to find some important contact and you just keep flipping through needless information. I sometimes forget that these rolodex cards are removable and should be promptly trashed when happened upon. Brain clutter. I only wish to keep those cards worthy of being my last. But this is so backwards.
I yearn with all my heart to live, think, dream, talk and gesture like it is last. Forget the rolodex. Alas, I am beaten most every time by my brain clutter. There is only one time that I forge through this so called life and subconsciously live like it is my soul's last breath. This happens when I say goodbye to my kids. Pure love springs eternal when they are going to bed all snuggled sweetly or when they go off on a grand adventure with their Dad. When I kiss their pink cheeks as I watch them walk into school or when I say yes to an after school play date. I am fiercely struck by these moments of separation and I can do nothing but live like it is my last moment.
I have too much brain clutter. Last moments do not happen nicely, tied with a ribbon. More often than not last moments happen within the brain clutter. Yelling, distraction, frustration, sickness, tiredness and being overwhelmed are just a few of my everyday emotions - my brain clutter. This clutter gets in the way. It prevents me from finding that one important contact.
No regrets. The "R" word. My Love and I used to pride ourselves on not having any. There was a moment in time that I could not even remember the actual word. I would say, "What is that R word, again?" But it can slowly creep into your life and take over without even asking permission. I don't want to keep asking for "do overs." I just want to breathe like I have been given a do over - all the time so that when my last moment comes I am not living within a regret, covered up with brain clutter.
The other night I had THE BEST night's sleep. It wasn't because I went to bed early or because my kids didn't wake up. It was because of my continuous dream. Prior to going to bed that night we had been breathing in about 8 days of straight sun and highs in the 60s. In March! All night long I dreamed of torrential rain. The rain kept raining. Downpour. It rained hard all night in my dream. There was no story line. No happenings. Just rain. I woke up to a rainy day and I felt so comforted by the water. My "rain" dream kept replaying all day in my head and when I went to bed the next night, I said out loud (to my Love's horror, I'm sure), "I wish my dream last night could have been my last dream. It was so wonderfully peaceful." I don't want to die of course. I just want to make sure that when in the act of dying that I have wonderful amazing joyous peaceful brain activity, with no regrets prying their way into my domain.
The only way for me to achieve this is to start throwing away the brain clutter and start living to die. Every moment. Every day. This cannot be a goal to attain. At this point in my life this has to be a decision of commitment to my life, my Love's life and to my children's lives.
I yearn with all my heart to live, think, dream, talk and gesture like it is last. Forget the rolodex. Alas, I am beaten most every time by my brain clutter. There is only one time that I forge through this so called life and subconsciously live like it is my soul's last breath. This happens when I say goodbye to my kids. Pure love springs eternal when they are going to bed all snuggled sweetly or when they go off on a grand adventure with their Dad. When I kiss their pink cheeks as I watch them walk into school or when I say yes to an after school play date. I am fiercely struck by these moments of separation and I can do nothing but live like it is my last moment.
I have too much brain clutter. Last moments do not happen nicely, tied with a ribbon. More often than not last moments happen within the brain clutter. Yelling, distraction, frustration, sickness, tiredness and being overwhelmed are just a few of my everyday emotions - my brain clutter. This clutter gets in the way. It prevents me from finding that one important contact.
No regrets. The "R" word. My Love and I used to pride ourselves on not having any. There was a moment in time that I could not even remember the actual word. I would say, "What is that R word, again?" But it can slowly creep into your life and take over without even asking permission. I don't want to keep asking for "do overs." I just want to breathe like I have been given a do over - all the time so that when my last moment comes I am not living within a regret, covered up with brain clutter.
The other night I had THE BEST night's sleep. It wasn't because I went to bed early or because my kids didn't wake up. It was because of my continuous dream. Prior to going to bed that night we had been breathing in about 8 days of straight sun and highs in the 60s. In March! All night long I dreamed of torrential rain. The rain kept raining. Downpour. It rained hard all night in my dream. There was no story line. No happenings. Just rain. I woke up to a rainy day and I felt so comforted by the water. My "rain" dream kept replaying all day in my head and when I went to bed the next night, I said out loud (to my Love's horror, I'm sure), "I wish my dream last night could have been my last dream. It was so wonderfully peaceful." I don't want to die of course. I just want to make sure that when in the act of dying that I have wonderful amazing joyous peaceful brain activity, with no regrets prying their way into my domain.
The only way for me to achieve this is to start throwing away the brain clutter and start living to die. Every moment. Every day. This cannot be a goal to attain. At this point in my life this has to be a decision of commitment to my life, my Love's life and to my children's lives.
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