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.
fate & friendship
September 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
Friday morning I said goodbye to my daughter at the front of her school. As I watched my little girl walk toward a classmate I noted one of my friends and started to find my way to her side to say hello. I love these borrowed moments, casual conversations that tumble in my path like lucky pennies. On this morning I suddenly hesitated; moving against my normal rhythm I shifted direction heading away from a quick hello toward my first task. In the space between walking away from my friend and beginning my errand I repeatedly questioned my decision. I could not have explained, if asked, why I had forgone this beloved morning routine for an often dreaded task.
Arriving at the grocery store I recognized the stranger walking toward me, another happy accident. Two months earlier I had watched this same woman with her young son and known immediately the familiarity of her story, I recognized the unconditional love between a beautiful Autistic child and a woman mothering with hope and patience. The barista serving the woman on that day had said a warm goodbye to the mother and child, then turned to help me. We casually slipped into a conversation about my child as she handed me my morning indulgence. The barista had met my son and without judgment or pity asked quite simply if my child were Autistic. In the months since, this stranger in a green apron serving custom coffee became a lovely introduction to a beautiful conversation that was yet to happen with a mother who shares my experiences parenting a child on the Autism Spectrum.
On the Friday I traded a playground conversation for a trip to the grocery store this mother, who without words grounded me in memories of days long past with my son, was standing just inside the storefront. Leaving as I was coming, this moment was so fleeting I had almost missed it entirely. We exchanged names and spoke for a spell about the young boys for whom so much of our thoughts, fears, and hopes stir uncertainty.
Two days have passed and this chance encounter is never far from my mind. This stranger with the sweet boy so much like my son reminded me not only of the joys I have known as a mother, but of the rewarding experience of creating new experiences working against the grain with a child whose needs create so many opportunities for self growth. I was also reminded of the amazing souls whose stories have woven themselves into the fabric of my life in chance encounters; casual hellos that grew into lifelong friendships.
The high school friend that was always there, but one day became the singular friend I would miss dearly until the day we realized we were practically neighbors a state away from where we began. The college neighbor that now lives hours away, but with whom I share an unbroken conversation. The woman I met in my earliest days as a mother who shares so many memories of our boys as playmates. A kindergarten mother who guided me through the earliest heartache and acceptance of my son’s diagnoses. A neighbor I didn’t know was a friend just waiting to be found at a pool rather than down the street. A woman I met over the phone when my body was heavy with my second child and hers full with the promise of her first born, each of us restricted to bed rest. A teacher who knew my son first as an infant and later as a pupil, but whom always hugs me and inspires me with the affection of a mother.
The list is unending. There are beautiful souls I have met sitting in waiting rooms at various doctor’s offices and therapy sessions, playgrounds and school events. This new mother, a bright star in a constellation of warmth. We were drawn together by chance, strangers who recognized a common challenge and mother’s love. When I count my blessings it seems there is a greater architect who guides me with friendship to reach my greatest potential as a woman, wife, mother, and friend. Call this faith or fate, my life is richer for the kind, compassionate, wise voices whom I call friends.
