parenting in progress
September 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am an amateur. I have lofty dreams of parenting from a serene source of strength, but sometimes I struggle to be the mother I strive to be.
I never intend to raise my voice to my children and still I have. The sharp sound of my voice tinged with anger makes me feel horrible and has yet to fix poor behavior, but in moments of extreme frustration I sometimes lose sight of intentions and ideologies grasping desperately for order and authority. Shame for my own impatience guides me to apologize. In our house we have expanded sorry to encompass a promise, we say: Sorry means I will try to do better.
My kids know I am fallible, it would seem silly to hide this. I cannot imagine the standard of perfection that would cast judgment on their own mistakes without the balance of my errors. I hope my children are comfortable with both making mistakes and striving to learn from them. I often think of my children as consultants in parenting; sometimes they teach me, often times they forgive me, but mostly they hold me accountable to do my best.
On Saturday, my son snapped at my daughter and my daughter threw a noisy, public temper tantrum. I was horrified and snapped back. Maybe they were tired, hungry, overheated, or under the weather. Regardless of why, they were unhappy and ugliness seemed to puddle around us drawing each of us further into a muck of misery. Underneath the unpleasantness were these amazing little souls that provide me with moments of joy, humor, compassion, and wisdom.
I sat both children down and held for them the mirror of accountability that they hold for me. We talked our way through the problems and I asked them who they want to be; if their behavior best represented the person they are on the inside. They are no more bad kids, than I am a bad mom. They are little people still making sense of their world just as I am finding my way through motherhood. Forgiveness and understanding, acceptance for our imperfections and opportunities to do better are all any of us can hope for.
Parenting is an ongoing effort full of adjustments, lessons, apologies, and hope; a work in progress. Each day is a new beginning, an opportunity to do better.
September 11
September 10, 2011 § Leave a comment
I have written this date for as long as I could write. Initially, I wrote it with the innocence of a child, proudly staking claim. It has become a date I share with strangers. My birthday a day of remembrance.
On the morning of September 11, 2001 I was watching the news as tragedy unfolded, sending ripples of shock, fear, and uncertainty across our nation. Like so many, I followed the news closely trying to grasp the reality of the moment. Horrific scenes of violence and destruction seemed borrowed from a Hollywood production, too far outside the realm of possibility to be real. The news brought the devastation into our living rooms, our homes made uncomfortable as we stood in witness of the unimaginable horror of hatred.
My mother waited to hear from her brothers; one worked near the World Trade Center and another’s wife worked near the Pentagon. My In-Laws waited anxiously for word from my brother-in-law living in Manhattan. We all waited helplessly in a place of paused uncertainty for reassurance*.
That evening my In-Laws arrived to babysit, my husband had planned a special evening out weeks in advance. The tone of the day was dark and attempts to celebrate felt forced and inappropriate. My husband trying to carve out a moment for us amidst a day that drowned joy with grief, toasted my birthday. I was sharing a moment with my husband that countless others would never again know. I could not be joyful, but I could not discard my blessings.
On a day of immeasurable loss, my blessings are countless. I have no doubt that each of the souls lost on the morning of September 11, given the opportunity, would live fully unbound by fear and mindful of each moment. On this day each year I think not of dwelling in a place of sorrow, but of living gratefully for the moment I am blessed to have.
*After a long day of waiting to hear from loved ones, I am happy to share they were all safe.
Rx: rest
September 10, 2011 § Leave a comment
For the past couple of days my husband has balanced work and a house project, keeping late hours toiling away at a task he doesn’t enjoy. He did this while I slept peacefully unaware courtesy of sleep-inducing, over-the-counter allergy medicine. I am writing this because sometimes we say thank you, but cannot hear the value behind the words.
When I don’t feel well, I need to stop and rest. I am someone who seemingly catches everyone else’s bug if I am not well rested. Once sick, I don’t stand a chance of getting well without tuning out and turning in. At the moment I am well, but seasonal allergies have me stuffy and red, pouty and tired; sleeping a wonderful reprieve from irritating symptoms.
My gratitude comes from being allowed to be selfish. The time that is normally our time at the end of the day has been my time. We don’t go out as often as we would like, evenings after the children are tucked into bed are our time to reconnect. My husband set aside our time and gave me his time to rest. Genuine appreciation lies behind two little words: thank you.
stillness
September 9, 2011 § 3 Comments
I endeavor to teach my children the value of quiet spaces; learning to be still and find peace. Restless when still, they find pockets of peace drawing, reading, and building with Legos. The simple repetition of their actions lull them into a comfortable silence.
I create similar moments of stillness for myself. Each morning I absorb the silence of my home before the rest of my family stirs from bed. I need this stillness, to center myself for the day ahead. It is a routine indulgence I cherish; quiet, uninterrupted moments of meditation and peace. Other times, like my children, I find quiet in the pages of a book. Setting aside my thoughts, concerns, questions for another voice; distraction providing a stillness from the fluid stream of thoughts that follow me in consciousness.
Today I found stillness in the company of a friend. The easy familiarity borne of childhood confidences marking a safe place to be still and unwind from expectations of marriage and motherhood. A simple, unassuming moment of sharing, creating a rejuvenating stillness.
These moments of stillness bear a peaceful and joyful energy that accompany me through my day. I wonder how others foster stillness in their lives?
no message
September 9, 2011 § 1 Comment
My mother will call to remind me to call. I missed a call. Busy with random distractions, I barely registered the absence of a message until the day had passed. The following day, at my first quiet opportunity, I called my mother to collect my message.
My mother was robbed.
The words before and immediately following my mother’s news were drowned out by waves of shock. The voice at the end of the line was hollow, gone was the sound of my mother’s smile and sense of humor. The damage unseen is significant.
Miles away and scared, my mother is lost in her home. I imagine the stairs my children climb, the chair in which my mother knits, the table where we share Thanksgiving dinner and wonder at the unseen guest that walked freely uninvited.
There is no comfort, no words to undo this act of unkindness. What was taken is secondary to the sense of security that has been stolen.
I keep calling my mother to remind her to call.
flip-flops and jeans
September 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
It is one of my favorite times of year, the brief spell between Summer and Fall, just before we set our clocks back loaning an hour to Spring. Seasons mingle as I cling to summer comforts and fall favorites; cool mornings with warm coffee and sunny afternoons with stolen moments on the school yard swing set.
The weather turned cooler yesterday and I felt the first stirrings of anticipation for apple cider and the crunch of leaves beneath my feet. We opened the windows in our home to collect the crisp, cool air. Outdoors we soaked up the sunshine, tossing our coats aside and playing with new friends beneath an ancient tree. As the evening air chilled, we gathered our blankets and books close.
One of my favorite local bagel shops has filled their case with pumpkin specials and my coffee shop is serving up seasonal lattes. All around me old favorites are ushering in a new season. I scamper to and fro in flip-flops and jeans.
on the clock
September 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am attempting to restructure my days to accommodate my efforts to write and more efficiently address the maintenance of my home. I am good at making a list and setting goals, but I am poor at sticking to a schedule.
In a wish as yet unspoken, I want this practice of writing to be a bigger part of my life. I am not sure yet how to manifest this wish and I acknowledge that I cannot bring this to fruition without an ability to visualize an end result or the steps that would lead me there.
For now, I am taking advantage of a quiet household on school days and holding myself accountable for working on my dream, on the clock. Carving out a time and place of physical possibility and emotional value for something that I love.
homework helper
September 5, 2011 § Leave a comment
A little over a week into the new school year and we are all passively protesting the routines like a new pair of shoes that are pinching and confining. We fuss over the discomfort, grumbling under our breath at the inconvenient newness while longing for the old, beloved, well-worn comforts of summer. Each child tumbles down the stairs half conscious for breakfast only to scramble each evening into bed exhausted and eager to cocoon among dreams. Behind the scenes, I too am begrudgingly adapting to a new school year.
Our mornings are busy with breakfast and simple acts of preparing for the day ahead. Evenings have lulled us into a false sense of normalcy; sunshine makes the hours after school dismissal seem longer and an absence of homework makes the new year feel deceptively, effortlessly manageable. I am mindful of evenings ahead centered at the dining room table as textbooks, paper, and sharpened pencils steal lazy evenings outdoors.
Homework has often signaled a power struggle between my children and my expectations. This year, I am hoping to change the dynamics of dreaded anticipation into an opportunity for accountability. I am attempting to empower my children to seek out the answers, by giving them room to find them. I fall too easily into the habit of coaching and editing; controlling under the guise of helping my very capable children through their work.
I began to step back from the homework table when my son was in 4th grade, giving him room to make mistakes. This year, I am trying to create an expectation of independence for both children. I am placing myself off to the side, waiting to see if they need me and willing to help if necessary; fostering a quiet faith in their ability.
Tomorrow will be a true test as we juggle our first school day with homework and evening activities. Fingers crossed, this is the week we settle into our after-school routines.
blind dates
September 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
I have been married for over 11 years. Twice, in the past 7 years, my children have sent me on blind dates. With other mothers.
My first blind date began with a phone call. Tucked securely in a hospital bed, in premature labor with my daughter, a nurse slipped me my neighbor’s phone number. I remember our nurse shaking her head, all smiles, saying definitively: “The two of you have to meet.” A warm voice filled with humor and compassion called from the other side of the wall; our nurse’s knowing smile a premonition of friendship to come. Once our children were born, we met; she and her family have held a special place in my heart ever since.
Today it was my son handing me a phone. “Here Mom. It’s my new friend’s mom. Maybe you could be friends.” I had to smile at the irony. My children seem blessed with a gift of gathering special souls into our lives. Tomorrow I will meet a new friend and her family. I wonder what the future holds.
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.
