space to talk
October 8, 2012 § Leave a comment
Some days I want to unravel a thought, something that has snagged my attention. Other days I am acknowledging a piece of my life, holding it closely tucked inside a written moment that I can return to another time. This morning I am celebrating a day with unceremonious sharing; both children having gifted me a moment of insight into their days. While my children sleep, I am absorbing the blessing of yesterday’s conversations.
Coloring beside my daughter, not a thought beyond the images on our blank page, my little girl said: Sometimes my head hurts from the secrets I cannot say out loud. This thought comes after school days that have ended with reserved and wounded behavior. I’m fine. It was a rough day. Little clues without context until we were nestled side by side on the floor, heads bent over a shared task. Grateful for an invitation to ask questions I let my daughter lead with gentle nudging and reminders that her secrets are my own. The laundry sat in a lumpy pile on the couch, dirty dishes nestled in the sink; beside my daughter with no hurried gesture to multitask I learned everything I needed to know about the shift in her mood this past week. I gave her tools for her troubles, but mostly I was present giving her space to talk.
Later in the day my son carved out space and time for himself. Having been reprimanded for an error in judgement, an act more in line with poor manners, my frustration was disproportionate to the moment. Some days it is difficult to ignore the contradiction of my son’s mannerisms. My love is unconditional, but occasionally my understanding is limited by what I cannot know. My son’s needs sometimes create unexpected pockets of inappropriate behavior for his age. Having walked away from our moment lost to so many doubts, my son found me and sitting down across from me said: I don’t want to drag this out or overanalyze this. I just want you to know that I don’t always know why I do what I do and I don’t understand why other people do what they do. I know I did something wrong and you are upset, but I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. It wasn’t an apology, but it was a timely reminder that my son is as aware of his challenges as I am; neither of us have answers, but we both want to be understood. My twelve-year-old did more than apologize, he tethered us both to the truth beneath the frustration.
These moments, connected to my children and undistracted by the busyness of the day are essential to my experiences as a mother. I want to be the person they reach for in confidence; to guide them as they find their way, sometimes with questions and other times with answers, but always from a place of accessibility. May our home always have space to talk.
the golden rule
October 5, 2012 § 2 Comments
We teach our children to treat others the way they would want to be treated, but sometimes even adults need reminding. We hurt friends by building walls and hiding truths; talking around what needs to be said or speaking without reflecting on our intent. Each time I am faced with my own error, I hesitate between understanding myself and tucking the misdeed behind shame and guilt. Here is the unexpected gift of failing to be authentic in my words and deeds, I am forced to grow into my mistake completely until the lesson becomes a piece of my story. Some lessons are more difficult than others.
Yesterday another mother shared a difficult experience. I will honor her openness by not naming her wound. Even without the details I can say she was torn between her role as a mother and friend. She wore her heartache visibly as she vacillated between modeling strength and being honest about her fears. Her emotions rolled over me in waves and I wanted to give her an answer that would lend strength and clarity. I chose honesty instructing only: This will be hard and you must be both honest and fair. Allow the other party their emotions in the same way you need to express your own. Say what you fear you cannot say or the words at the core of your hurt will fester into a greater wound.
I was speaking to a woman, but imagining how I would advise my daughter. I also imagined the kind of role model I want to be for both my children in moments of adversity. The advice I gave another felt more challenging than I felt capable and that truth startled me begging new questions: How strong am I? What would I not confront?
This weighted reflection began out of another’s story, but I find myself caught in a moment of consciousness I cannot dismiss.
image & identity
October 4, 2012 § 2 Comments
This morning I struggled to piece together something resembling adult attire. Wanting to present a coordinated image at a school meeting I cast aside oversized sweaters and everyday t-shirts, ballet flats and flip flops, jeans and yoga pants in search of something that might suggest a contemporary mom-on-the-go. I wanted to exude confidence, but my closet suggested I am lost in shades of self doubt; earth tones and unassuming everyday essentials dramatically insignificant.
Nestled in a corner of my closet are sweater dresses and pencil skirts in want of feminine footwear. A sprinkling of accidental accessories slumber forgotten and unworn – an indication of lost intentions. Navigating my fragmented clothing and accessories for something stylish I resigned myself to a pair of hip hugging dark washed jeans, a crisp cotton t-shirt, and ballet flats accessorized with only my wedding band, watch, and unpretentious diamond studs. With my straight hair swept into a ponytail I felt like a teenager long expired, curious to be made into a woman.
I admire women who seem born into a sense of style, their clothes seemingly conforming to their personality. I want to wake up a little bit Audrey, playfully tailored and effortlessly elegant, but unassuming and authentically me.
work day
October 3, 2012 § Leave a comment
My husband’s days are stretched between a familiar professional routine that provides for our family and the possibility of something else. On the occasion an opportunity presents hope for change I gently nudge him from behind, pushing my husband toward the source of his smile. I want his enthusiasm and passion to catch, the twinkle in his eye to find momentum and burn a path for him to follow. I want the charismatic, fun-loving man who thrives when faced with a challenge to wake up inspired and excited about the day ahead. This is my wish for my husband, a life of fulfillment that extends beyond the walls of our home.
inviting honesty
September 30, 2012 § Leave a comment
Tonight I invited this little piece of myself, these reflective ramblings, cautiously and consciously into a conversation among family friends. It was a new experience, one that contradicted a precedent of intentional anonymity. Here my stories are unweighted by our names and images; enveloping others into this space bred vulnerability.These sharings are my love letters to my children, my husband, and myself. Simple reminders of the life we share, a safeguard for our story least we forget. Uncertain rather I should guard my words or share them, I am trying to absorb the uncertainty of inviting honesty.
courting marriage
September 28, 2012 § 2 Comments
Twelve years of marriage and two children later, my husband and I are still dating. No longer shy or new, our familiarity is comforting. Our date nights brief reminders that we did not cease to be a couple when we grew into a family. I Do became I Will.
My greatest lesson in marriage is the unpredictability of life and the importance of growing into each new moment. In the beginning my husband and I couldn’t have imagined some of the challenges waiting around the corner from complacency. Rather than settling into quiet moments, detaching into stagnancy, we have learned to embrace pockets of serenity, centering ourselves in gratitude and gathering humor and stillness for difficult moments ahead. We fortify ourselves with time.
Date nights were not always convenient, my husband and I learned to make room for one another in simple moments. When our children were little, early bedtimes gifted us quiet hours at home. Sometimes we were grateful to get lost in a movie; other times we unraveled worries alongside dreams for our future. As our children grew to school age we borrowed time from mornings or afternoons to share a meal or embrace the peaceful silence of our home. Occasionally there is only time enough to grab a cup of coffee just before school dismisses our children to homework and extra curricular activities, mindfully we absorb these minutes with the same enthusiasm we dress for dinner out.
Our time together is woven into each week, intentionally, so that our relationship is a choice validated at each opportunity. Marriage has given my husband and I unlimited time to grow as a couple, finding new ways to celebrate the life we continue to shape for our family.
to my daughter
September 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
Yesterday my phone buzzed with an early morning message from your teacher, eager to celebrate a classroom success. In an area where you often struggle, you had demonstrated mastery. Your accomplishment cast ripples of joy across the day connecting those of us who witness your determined efforts and discouraging challenges.
I want to capture this moment in a snapshot, saving this well-earned success for future reference; to unfold these lessons and write them on the walls of our home. We succeed not because of what we know, but by the way we approach learning. Our strengths are not measured by what comes easily, but how we face that which challenges us. Our accomplishments are a reflection of our choices, not chance.
You, my sweet girl, worked hard for this moment. Hold tightly to this knowledge, the sense of satisfaction and pride that accompany long evenings exercising new concepts. Be comfortable with the discomfort of working through confusion to find clarity. In life these lessons in resilience will bring you strength in the face of adversity. You will do well, not because life is easy, but because you move through your days consciously embracing opportunities to learn.
investing time
September 22, 2012 § 4 Comments
This week I structured my days more intentionally, dividing my hours with a conscious appreciation for relationships. By week’s end I feel a gratifying sense of connection among those who are most important to me.
I began with a promise and commitment to myself. For one hour each day I gifted myself time to exercise. The practice of running has become an act of meditation for me; in motion I am more peaceful, my thoughts more cohesive. This small investment in myself became the foundation for my week, centering myself before sharing pieces of my day with others. A sense of serenity inspired greater energy and attention to areas where I could improve upon other relationships.
The first realization came late one night while my children procrastinated over their bedtime routines. It occurred to me that my children did not fully appreciate the value of these routines for their father and I as a couple. This week I placed our needs into expectations. I outlined for both children the importance of a healthy marriage to happy parents, identifying the quiet couple time in the evenings as essential rather than optional. I asked our children to demonstrate respect by honoring our evening routines that their father and I may end our days connected with conversation, rest, and sharing.
As a measure of thanks for this time alone in the evening, I recommitted myself to connecting with each child during simple moments like homework, mealtime, and extracurricular activities; each opportunities that lend themselves to easy, unforced conversations. These touch points of our days are necessary indulgences I dare not compromise.
Perhaps the greatest change to my week involved an increased effort to share my days with friends. More than speaking I listened, laughed, and settled into hugs rather than settling for e-mail messages and texts. My absence from home left some household tasks undone, but my children and husband embraced new opportunities to connect as they explored pockets of time together without me. Adjusting my days to encompass exercises in friendship highlighted this area of my life as assumed and overlooked. Loving friends without demonstrating appreciation by sharing time leaves these precious relationships unbalanced and undervalued.
The world did not challenge these small adjustments to my daily agenda. Greeting each day more aware of each relationship my days were richer for the investment of time.
a thought
September 20, 2012 § 2 Comments
Pardon my fortune cookie sentiment, but in the spirit of gathering my fleeting thoughts here for another day I want to scribble a tiny awakening:
Without intention, fate is an empty promise.
the work of play
September 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
Parenting magazines and childhood development books enumerate eloquently on the psychological and emotional benefits of play. Parents facilitate play dispensing it with the regularity of an essential vitamin, using play as a directive and alternately assigning it time slots in busier schedules. At twelve years old my son plays in a manner not unlike the parallel play common to young children, beside another rather than interacting directly with another. Play when left to his own endeavors is independent, when directed by us it becomes an exercise in navigating the social challenges of communicating with another.
Social practice sessions in formal groups often place my son in a circle of chairs using a partially scripted conversation. I tend to identify these as warm up routines, similar to the mundane act of playing catch in preparation for the big game. My son goes through the motions waiting to be called to the plate. When he doesn’t get invited to play, he retreats into individual interests.
Last night I watched my son exercise his social knowledge in a setting intended to be recreational. He was working at playing. I enrolled my son in a rock climbing class, aware this was an individual activity that highlighted a natural skill set, hoping perhaps he would meet another child that shared his interest. I was aligning chance in hopes of fostering a conversation and play.
On the first day of class I was pleasantly surprised to note that the only other child in his time slot was a familiar face from our past, a young girl also on the Autism Spectrum who we met in a structured social group a couple of years back. I recognized the mother from waiting room conversations and inwardly applauded our good fortune. Two children in need of practical exercises in play, sharing an interest and need, working through play.
Last night I watched my son and his peer guide one another up a rock wall, blindfolded, directing one another and encouraging one another over obstacles toward a goal. There could be no greater moment that witnessing this sharing. I fell asleep last night peaceful with the knowledge that this new experience with an old acquaintance is providing an essential, natural opportunity for my son to play.
scribblechic 