questionable certainty
April 24, 2012 § Leave a comment
I have unintentionally began to schedule our summer. Two commitments anchor our time and I am hesitant to sacrifice lingering lazy days of serendipitous exploration to additional obligations. Even as I clutch tightly to unstructured time, I look over my shoulder at other mothers’ agendas questioning how much is too much and what is not enough?
I can broaden my uncertainty to encompass old decisions. Confident in a moment, doubt catches up with me stealing my resolve. Should I force my son to continue a particular sport? Should I insist my daughter explore other interests? Do I enforce expectations or nurture independent demonstrations of individual interests?
I know there isn’t a simple right or wrong answer. The bigger personal truth is that I mother my children from the trenches of my own comfort zone. I tell myself that I celebrate our unsystematic exploration of interests and resistance to conform to cookie cutter choices, but quietly unspoken doubts lead to second guessing. Am I forging a new path or limiting choices by overlooking other experiences?
I sometimes look to my peers, mothers whose calendars are filled with lessons and games, performances and competitions. I wonder if they have broken a code that creates a more well-balanced child. Doubt challenges my confidence.
Just as I embrace the possibility that I have done everything wrong, I look up and catch sight of my children playing. One child swinging contentedly while studying the clouds; the other curled over a treasure trove of small rocks. It is a simple life with simple joys. I tuck my doubts away for now, hopeful that in following my heart I have chosen wisely.
doubtfully dutiful
April 24, 2012 § 2 Comments
I can remember my earliest moments of awkward endeavors as a homemaker. I didn’t know how to cook, didn’t understand what needed to be cleaned, and I faced creating a home with all the grace of a small child finger painting with their mother’s make-up. Years later I try harder, my husband accepts my best while overlooking occasional oversights, and somehow I manage to address the daily duties of my life as a stay at home mother with heart and humor.
This morning peering eagerly into our refrigerator in search of breakfast trappings my husband marveled at the empty shelves. His confusion inspired my own curiosity over the enigma that is grocery shopping. I began visualizing the aisles at our local grocery store, mentally shopping the shelves, trying to envision what I forgot. I shop the perimeter of produce and meats, most of my food is nestled in drawers. So what does go on the shelves? When I shared my wonderment with my husband, he laughed in amused agreement. Not so much at my way of decoding the mystery, but because I was earnestly trying to find the solution.
This problem solving phenomenon is ongoing. I am perpetually stumbling over tasks I didn’t expect and expectations that I was previously oblivious to. Cleaning beneath things that don’t move and above things I can’t see still make me giggle. Some days my job feels accidentally familiar and I secretly applaud my ability. Other days I can feel myself wobbling in my big girl shoes as I try to create a home for my family. Either way my days are equal parts made-up nonsense and elbow grease. I’m playing house, improvising daily with an endearing cast of characters.
our happy
April 23, 2012 § Leave a comment
It began with a line from the movie “We Bought a Zoo”. Their happy is too loud. The little girl in the movie identified the noisy sounds of a neighbor’s party as a loud happy. A week later, between the bedtime routines of bath and books, my daughter assured me it is okay for my happy to be noisy.
My happy is quiet and content. For me, happy is a noun. My daughter’s happy is a verb; she moves with joy and passion, those closest to her cannot escape the emotion that flows between everything she does. From painting to swinging beneath a brilliant sky, her company carries an exuberance that tugs at your smile and dares you to keep from giggling.
Most often, my daughter is the person that makes me forget myself; I get tangled in the curious language that encompasses her wisdom and humor. Her thoughts are as genuine as they are amusing and somewhere in her delivery I applaud my good fortune that my days are sprinkled with spontaneity and smiles.
My little girl is the first person to reach for our hands, tend to our hurts, and celebrate our accomplishments. Her happy weaves itself around my contentment, the balance of her noise and my silence a lovely duet.
chain reaction
April 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
Today I attended a presentation at my son’s school where students were challenged to actively nurture a school culture based in kindness, compassion, and respect. Challenges included looking for the good in others, setting goals, choosing positive role models, and embracing forgiveness.
The presentation was based on the life of Rachel Scott, a young girl whose life was cut short in the tragic school shooting at Columbine High School on April 20, 1999. Throughout the video presentation Rachel’s family members and peers paid tribute to a young girl whose words of wisdom and good deeds left a legacy of kindness in the wake of tragedy.
Rachel’s Challenge strives to replace acts of violence and bullying with interpersonal connections and goals. I celebrate any endeavor to inspire children to act in kindness and dream big. As a parent I believe we teach by example and I embraced this opportunity to identify ways in which I could model each challenge at home.
The first challenge asked the students to Eliminate Prejudice by looking for the best in one another; setting aside first impressions or unkind thoughts to actively look for the good in others. I tend to identify things I admire about others, friends and strangers, but the speaker cited an example I had not considered: people who bring out an instinctive negative response. I considered people whose company makes me feel negative and challenged myself to display kindness towards those individuals I tend to withdraw from.
The second challenge is to Dare to Dream by keeping a journal and setting goals. I honor the theory that we draw dreams into reality by visualizing them and mapping our journey to fruition. In this way I celebrate encouraging children to give voice to their dreams. Even I could substitute I will for I wish; using language to claim accountability for my goals.
The third challenge is to Choose Positive Influences, drawing on positive role models for success. I am fortunate in that I am surrounded by friends and family who inspire me. As my children’s role model I must consider how my choices and language communicate success. Where in my life do I set aside goals for comfort?
The fourth challenge asked students to use Kind Words and show Little Acts of Kindness. I am challenging myself to be mindful of overlooked opportunities to be kind, bad days when I sacrifice my best for good enough.
Before ending the presentation the speaker asked the audience to close their eyes and envision a time when they had acted unkindly, to own that moment, and move past it in forgiveness with intent to act in kindness. The speaker also asked those treated unkindly to let go of feelings of anger weighing their spirits in negative emotions. Then we were all called to leave old harm behind us and move forward.
The final challenge was to start a Chain Reaction, demonstrate kindness and pay it forward. With that in mind I am sharing these simple thoughts and challenging anyone reading this to consider how they might become a link in a universal chain of kindness in words and deeds.
socially speaking
April 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
The unspoken language of our bodies, innuendo, sarcasm, and play. My twelve-year-old son endeavors to speak the unspoken, stumbling through with fragmented comprehension. This is his greatest challenge as a child on the Autism Spectrum.
Before his diagnosis the tell-tale signs were endearing quirks. His ability to play creatively, independently for long periods of time were perceived as a strength. His interaction among peers was limited and awkward, but his eyes always found ours and his mannerisms were respectful and engaging. As an older child navigating the congested halls of middle school, so many moments of misunderstanding have created a new awareness of invisible handicaps as my son attempts to speak the language of social.
On his birthday my son came home and diligently reported that students on the school bus threw items at him, saying they were presents. I contacted the appropriate school administrator to request they observe the bus video and ensure that my son was treated respectfully. The video footage showed my son caught in the middle of a game of keep away where other students’ belongings were being passed around and inadvertently gifted to my son after he announced to the audience of travelers that it was his birthday.
These moments of contrasting perspective and internalization create an illusion of harm. My son feels victimized, unliked, and curls into defensiveness. Stretching his perspective outside this space and teaching him to see the world around him with neutrality and understanding is an ongoing exercise towards speaking the unspoken.
On this occasion we have the benefit of an administrator that is willing to coach our son using the tools available. A patient individual willing to share the bus video with our son to give him a different view of an experience, a rare opportunity to look at a moment of time; studying the social interactions of his peers. A small step, a large lesson. A singular act of patience and kindness.
extra{ordinary}
April 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
Monday. Just another day in a string of days that once gathered together create a week in a month, in a year, in a lifetime. Only today was no ordinary Monday, it was an extraordinary boy’s birthday.
My husband, daughter, and I woke our household celebrity with a sleepy rendition of Happy Birthday. We shared breakfast and a simple gift before sending the birthday boy to school, his head was full of holiday while his body was begrudgingly grounded in the business of school.
The call came late morning, a muddled message with creative pleas to come home. My husband and I responded with a temporary reprieve from the routine of the day curious to uncover the story behind the request. Over a homemade sandwich our son shared the simple, suffocating frustrations of watching his birthday hours slipping under a pile of school work. We talked through the unglamorous truth that birthdays do not dismiss responsibilities and then shuffled a calmer pre-teen back into the fray of middle school with promises to preserve a piece of our evening for celebration.
A wish to feel extraordinary and the reality of the ordinary culminated in a lesson about responsibility and a stolen moment together with our son. It was an extra ordinary day.
breaking bread
April 14, 2012 § Leave a comment
The afternoon of my husband’s birthday we met for a late lunch, borrowing a moment from our day for ourselves. The restaurant was quiet and we relaxed into an easy conversation. I looked around the empty tables appreciating the absence of noise and noted a familiar stranger sitting at the table next to ours; a tall, dark figure that I so often see walking along a road I travel in his familiar formal attire. My husband had interviewed this man once at his place of business and shared with me the stranger’s over-qualified credentials from a professionally scripted resume carried along with his worldly possessions in a nondescript backpack. Even without my husband’s insight the man’s posture tells a story of one whose footsteps have traversed a full life. His well-worn suit lends an air of self-respect; his long, but not unkept hair implies a spirit free of convention; a curious attentiveness communicates intelligence. I imagine his stories would occupy an afternoon, but despite his openness he seems steeped in solitude. Without ceremony my husband requested a meal of the man’s choosing be provided privately. The space between our tables might have been miles apart for the chasm between us, but there is a bridge of humanity that connects each of us in small, unassuming acts like breaking bread.
happy accidents
April 14, 2012 § 2 Comments
Yesterday was scattered with serendipitous moments of friendship and I pause this morning to reflect on the power of a conversation, a genuine moment of stillness that allows us to connect with another soul over a simple greeting. Like an invisible thread fate stitches stories with patchwork personalities; people who share similar journeys, others who inspire action, some who share passion. People pass through my days and I marvel at the blessing of their stories.
In the moments just before school began, watching my daughter walk towards the front doors yesterday, I turned and paused to say hello to a school aide only to find myself quickly wrapped in an intimate conversation centered in the unique challenges we share as mothers of daughters with a common special need that complicates school days. A simple greeting had gifted me a moment of connection to a woman who before that conversation I did not know. Our stories are unique, but the shared spaces inspire an awareness that lends both strength and comfort, hope and celebration.
I was still reflecting on my good fortune when I crossed paths an hour later with a woman I had lost touch with amid the unceremonious busyness of school and home. I met this woman in the chaotic space of preschool activities, sharing conversations on motherhood over park playdates with our children. Between the aisles of our checkout lanes and over her shopping cart we caught up and made new promises to share pieces of our summer vacation at a park. Again, a simple greeting had gifted me the company of a friend; a woman who accompanies me on my journey through motherhood.
These happy accidents of friendship occur with amusing frequency. At the local YMCA on a climbing wall, the outdoor pool under a summer sun, on airplanes, at a local bakery over an order of cookies; in unexpectedly common places I find myself in the company of compassion born of experience. Mothers and children who share a journey similar to my family’s find their way into our lives with a predictability that has not escaped me. Today, I celebrate years of conversations and friendships born of a genuine, unhurried hello.
brick by brick
April 9, 2012 § 1 Comment
This weekend we began packing away the chaotic contents of our family LEGO room, noisy handfuls of bricks tumbled into large storage containers. As primary colored creations were contained from clutter into controlled chaos, memories filled the corners of my heart with gratitude for years of creativity and sharing.
Our children were the fortunate recipient of their father’s old LEGOs and my husband happily embraced a second childhood as both children discovered the joy of creating; the physical manifestation of a moment of inspiration. Lifting the weight of each bin, I wondered if I could measure their time together with these tiny building toys, one moment piled on top of another brick by brick.
Our toy room was a kaleidoscope of colorful shapes; kits and creations piled haphazardly and intentionally on flat surfaces and scattered across the floor. Packing away the remnants of this piece of our life was my children’s choice and I welcomed their decision to make room for a new experience. Still as we tucked away these well-loved toys for another generation I found myself pausing over various pieces, marveling at my children’s creations, and collecting memories for safekeeping brick by brick.
blank page
April 5, 2012 § 4 Comments
I’m a happy contradiction of blank page and full heart. Thoughts and stories ripple unwritten pages in my mind with the same cool breeze that carries my neighbor The Robin’s song into my kitchen. It is a rich peacefulness, decadent with daydreams and wishes that fill the space between tasks. Spring is infectious in its paused possibility spilling across days balanced with sunshine and hope. I am in love.
My husband, that quirky romantic, steadfast in his loyalty greets me each morning and the sight of him is a sharing. Across a chaotic dinner table or passing in the hallway, a simple look recalls the weight of our children as newborns nestled in our arms, nights of worry for fears unspoken, and dreams for days to come.
I watch my children as they linger over dandelions bouquets and sidewalk masterpieces, flecks of chalk lingering on their clothing evidence of their flourishing imaginations. The silhouette of their faces alight from a backyard fire pit as we savor s’mores on a school night contrasts the rounded youth of their faces against the gangly limbs of their maturity. I want to sweep them into my lap and hold this moment a little longer.
With the same brevity of The Robin’s perch, I acknowledge a fleeting note of appreciation for the girl who has accompanied me into womanhood. Despite the laugh lines and markings of pregnancy, my heart is full of the dreams and faith of my youth. Beneath the housekeeping, meal planning, and child rearing is a little girl who loves a quiet moment with a book and dances when no one is looking; a head full of dreams and a heart full of gratitude.
