good advice
September 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
I listen to others’ problems, absorbing emotions and weighing my words attempting to offer genuine understanding. I invest myself in their needs; consciously selecting my words to offer kindness and perspective. I am learning to follow my own advice. Faced with frustrations or uncertainty, I am trying to step outside the moment and befriend myself. Typically I get tangled in my own emotions and over analyze others’ words or actions, distorting the value of intent and feeling hurt. In treating my own problems with compassion and clarity, I am finding a little peace.
Following a simple formula, universally applicable, I have fostered greater consciousness. First, I name the problem and my emotions. Next, I attempt to identify other personalities surrounding the conflict and challenge myself to consider the “problem” from a new perspective free of my emotions or conflict. Lastly, I try to consider how I would advise my children in a similar circumstance.
Feeling left out of social gatherings with friends I pouted assuming I had lost a place of belonging. Working through this formula lent me clarity. I named the problem and my emotions: I felt intentionally unincluded which lead to hurt feelings. I paused to shift perspective, considering my place among my friends’ company. In this instance, I acknowledged these friends’ connection to one another is a blessing, a source of comfort and joy to each of them; not a source of harm towards me. Next, I considered how I might advise my children on the importance of friendships and finding their own place of belonging. My closest friends are not members of an established group, but rather scattered over different towns from different moments in my life. The absence of those few individuals that know me most completely are the ones whose silence would fill me with emptiness. My advice: enjoy my time with friends without a need for affirmation.
I struggle a bit with confrontation and as a result can approach a problem passive aggressively, creating conflict. When my husband and I are at odds this formula has given me a newfound moment of acceptance. Setting aside my feelings, attempting to see a situation from my husband’s perspective, and allowing my own feelings to have value have created a more equal partnership. Now when we disagree I try to ask him to name for me what has upset him so that I can see the moment with new eyes. Often this makes my own hurt lessened as I shift my focus to encompass my husband’s feelings. In each disagreement I consider our children and the marriage I hope they create for themselves one day. My advice: be compassionate and insist on respect.
In smaller areas of anxiety I am trying to follow suit. I tend to resist change for familiar comforts. I have begun to recognize this and set aside the emotions that accompany this internal conflict; looking at new experiences as opportunities. In these new moments I am advising myself to embrace the experience without expectation.
Evaluating friendships, nurturing a marriage based in equality, and challenging my own insecurities are creating a greater consciousness. Allowing my role as a mother to inform my identity as a woman I am applying the same principles of love, respect, compassion, open-mindedness that I teach my children. It is easy to guide my children with words, but lessons must exist with examples. For now, naming the problem, shifting perspective, and offering guidance based in kindness seems like good advice.
wishes and wants
September 3, 2011 § 1 Comment
I have simple wishes. On my birthday I wish for the company of my husband and children, the anticipation of cake, and handmade cards from my children. Predictably, each year my husband asks what I want for my birthday. I want my wishes to come true.
I love a happy surprise wrapped in a bow, but tokens of affection have little value if unaccompanied by sentiment. I want to wake up to cuddles from my children and to share an easy day of togetherness without arguments or anxiety. I want to spend each meal distracted by a sugary confection tucked away for later. Despite my love of beautiful stationery, I want to read my children’s wishes woven around art that fills the blank spaces of homemade cards.
Friends sometimes fill the day with treats, my preference is time. I have no need for gifts, I rather share a meal or conversation. Time is an indulgence, most of us too busy to sit still, but it is my favorite gift: the company of people I love and the sound of their laughter.
Inevitably someone will ask how old I am. There are those that antagonize over a number: age, weight, IQ, income. I prefer undefined anonymity. I scatter my numbers to the wind, happy to let go of such boundaries and definitions. On my birthday I am no different, I think less of the progression of time and more of sentiment. I cherish birthdays past and stay present, uhurried as I look to the future.
In the days following, someone will ask if I had a nice day or if I received everything I wanted. The answer is: most days my wishes come true, I am rich in the blessings of family and friends.
coffee clutch
September 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
I carry it like a well admired handbag. My coffee has become an expensive, temporary, disposable clutch that accompanies me through my day. Like a small, over-priced handbag with a designer label, my signature cup whispers you deserve this indulgence.
Some days I pretend it isn’t a treat, it is functional. The coffee induced energy boost helps me get more done. Other days, I use medicinal claims; it eases a headache. Sure, I rocket through errands and house cleaning propelled by caffeine and, most of the time, coffee dulls my headaches. I know, it is something more.
I am in a love affair with an experience. I like the familiarity of my coffee shop, the playful banter with my barista, the rich flavor of my treat, and the signature cup that I wear like a clutch.
the measure of a smile
August 29, 2011 § Leave a comment
Most days the measure of my accomplishments are tallied by the volume of tasks completed: groceries purchased, house cleaned, meals planned, laundry completed. It is a simple life and, while I dread the mundane invariability of housekeeping, there is a sense of gratification in taking care of my family’s home. Today I set aside the predictable pattern of my day and squandered stolen moments.
My son woke early and we bantered across the kitchen island over breakfast. A shared sense of dry humor and a quiet moment provided an opportunity to begin the day with smiles and laughter. It was a small moment, but I carry the image of my son’s dimpled smile with me.
Good humor was contagious and I quickly lost myself to my daughter’s company. Her big brother’s school day already begun, our morning walk together was filled with stories and dramatic gifts of dandelions. Today she created a game with her sight words that held our attention until goodbye.
Our children settled at school, my husband and I played hooky from our schedules and escaped to a late breakfast. Sitting outdoors and visiting over the small indulgence of a favorite meal we stopped to smell the roses. I have accomplished nothing on my list of chores, but today my accomplishments are measured in smiles.
day of grace
August 28, 2011 § 1 Comment
Sundays in our home lack the customs and routines of church. Some weeks I miss the easy comfort of my childhood experiences; sitting among familiar faces in a moment of gratitude and celebration for the simple blessings of my life. I was exposed to three differing religions as a child: my mother’s, my father’s, and later, my stepmother’s. Their denominations are significant to them, but secondary to my story. My faith exists among the shared experiences. Values such as compassion and kindness, concepts of right and wrong, acts of prayer and thanksgiving have followed me offering comfort and strength in moments of difficulty and choruses of joy in moments of profound happiness.
My husband believes in God, but not the institution of church; comfortable in his beliefs and relationship with God outside the walls of a place of worship. I honor his belief that faith is personal and lived best by example. We attempt to guide our children in faith, offering our thoughts and providing them opportunities to experience various religions through preschool programs, summer camps, and visits to different churches. It is important to me we walk this path as a family.
Today I am thankful for quiet Sundays in the company of my family and the faith that is my own. I am remembering Sundays in a small rural church, hymns that enveloped the air and the faces of neighbors visiting over the backs of weathered pews. I hope that one day my children will know the peace of gathering in a place of worship and raising their voices in joy, finding strength in something shared, and knowing a feeling of belonging in a moment of faith.
playing house
August 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
There are friends that tie us to a younger self; the girls we women once were. In their company time stands still and the reality of marriage and motherhood feel like a grand game of make-believe. Discussing our lives after childhood, I feel like a little girl playing house.
I never envisioned this part of my life, it has been an experience of improvisation. My parents were divorced with widely differing personalities and parenting styles; they lived in different communities and without the predictable social rhythms of my close-knit neighborhood. I sometimes feel like a child’s toy misplaced; a round peg stuffed into a square space.
I am comfortable in the company of my family, but sometimes lost in the space of expectations. A little voice seems to whisper, I don’t know how to do this. I have learned to follow my gut and lead with my heart. Asking for directions and watching for answers. Still I marvel at those that seem to know with a quiet confidence, what comes next at each turn.
It is with great joy and reassurance that I perpetually find myself in the company of wise souls that share with me a vision of Happily Ever After in the space of everyday life.
boys and girls
August 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
It begins somewhere between the monkey bars and the swing set. The first strings of school yard rhymes caution there exists an imbalance of power. Girls rule, boys drool. Little boys pull our pig tails and tease us into tears while we feign disinterest and annoyance through batted eyelashes and half smiles. Is it any wonder we grow up questioning each other’s intentions?
Courtship is full of feigned interests and exaggerated displays of patience and affection. Long before we had children, my husband and I were the center of each other’s happiness. We were fascinated by the otherwise illogical intricacies of our thoughts. I would infer meaning, assuming my husband intended subtext. Alternately, my husband would hear my thoughts like newspaper headlines. The need to communicate respect and understanding, concern and appreciation were greater than the words between us.
Then we had children. My husband spends his days running a business, juggling decisions and creating goals. I spend my days as a homemaker, similarly juggling decisions and creating goals. Lately, our minds distracted with the business of our days, I find myself wondering what he means, questioning why he said that or thinking I don’t think he understands.
Today I am looking for a reference guide, my husband lives on Mars and I speak Jupiter.
darcy & jo
August 20, 2011 § 1 Comment
My childhood was filled with books; the pages of well-loved stories scattered across summers and tucked inside stolen moments. In trying to lend my children aliases in this space, I am borrowing names of childhood friends among the pages of my past.
From an early age my son has walked confidently on a path of his own choosing. He is eloquent, gifted in the art of language beyond his years, and sentimental with Victorian mannerisms. His dimpled smile, innocent of its charm, lends humor to his otherwise serious disposition. I watch my Mr. Darcy with Pride, but then as his mother I am entirely Prejudice.
My daughter Jo is a leader of Little Women. Having an older brother she is eager to be his equal, unrestrained by lady-like expectations. Her heart is as large as her dreams, and she guards them both behind spirited bravado. Mindful of our expectations as her parents, she endeavors to perform expected tasks committed by a sense of responsibility born of love. Headstrong and devoted she is passionately loyal.
Similarities aside, my children’s personalities extend beyond the margins of my childhood companions; they are complicated characters, my Darcy and Jo.
pulling teeth
August 9, 2011 § 1 Comment
In teaching my children to think critically, at some point they hold me accountable. Normally, I embrace the challenge. On occasion, I avoid it like my dentist.
When scheduling my children’s dentist appointments, my daughter asked me when do I go to the dentist. “When you are in school,” I bluffed. She studied my face closely and then knowingly said, “I hope so. That would only be fair.” It was right up there with catching me eating a cupcake for breakfast or running with scissors. I knew that she knew.
What my children do not know is that I am terrified of the dentist. I have never met an unkind dentist, I just cannot find anything pleasant about the experience and thereby immaturely exercise the power entrusted to me as an adult to avoid what I want to, because I am a grown-up now and no one can make me. Back to what they don’t know can’t hurt them.
My children also do not know who I vote for. I am determined that they grow up learning to gather information, balance their own values and priorities against those of politicians, and think for themselves rather than rely on what political party their father or I identify with. This is actually great fun come election time. My son is determined to “out” me and cleverly poses various questions designed to make me identify with a candidate. I put on my Devil’s Advocate hat and debate the opposite side of each coin until my son calls a truce and retreats to construct new questions.
Tomatoes and mushrooms. I do not like these in various forms, but my children are unaware. That’s right, I refuse to have them shun a food until they try it. Once they try it, if they can explain what they do not like about something, I am willing to honor their unique likes and dislikes.
I will confess, they do know I do not like snakes and their father feels equally uncomfortable around spiders. Otherwise, I am a mystery. Getting me to share would be like pulling teeth.
silent clapping
August 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am a noisy quiet person which is to say I may appear reserved (I smile and nod a lot), but internally I am bouncing up and down clapping. For example, when I see a friend, I am silently clapping. There was one occasion when reunited with my high school best friend that I did, in fact, bounce and clap across a parking lot almost toppling her with enthusiasm. That moment aside, I typically keep a lid on my crazy.
Ironically, I am drawn to personalities that are boisterous and outgoing. I settle into their noise and my heart is peaceful in their company. My husband is a good example. He is a natural storyteller, capable of capturing others’ attention with tones and gestures mindful to exclude the mundane and exaggerate comic gems; inciting laughter with ease. Similarly, I have friends that will spontaneously wrap me in a bear hug or alternately declare an opinion with bravado. I am fairly certain others are aware of the invisible spotlight of confidence that seems to follow these individuals casting a warm glow that draws you into their company. I love watching these people because, like my children, their hearts are limitless and their minds are brilliant, wildly entertaining, open books.
On rare occasions, quiet people make me noisy. Uncomfortable without the balance of noise, I fill the empty spaces talking incessantly. This happens most often with new people, uncertain in moments of quiet, I nervously chatter without breathing and gesture wildly with my hands. Once familiar, I tend to retreat comfortably into a quieter self. The exception was a friend’s birthday dinner where I felt so uncertain surrounded by new personalities, that I smiled and nodded my way through a five-hour meal. I am content in the background, enjoying the effervescent company of the people I love and silently clapping.
