once upon a time
October 29, 2011 § 2 Comments
I imagined my Prince Charming would sweep me into a Fairy Tale. I married a man who lives with me in a place of reality, it is a life beyond the pages of my childhood stories. Long before Happily Ever After, there are everyday moments of chivalry.
This week my husband sat quietly at the dinner table, pouring over pages of math in an effort to guide our son. Hours passed and his patience lingered as our son slowly grasped a new concept. I sat separately with our daughter, grateful for a partner that shares in long nights heavy with frustration. There was no white horse or castle peeking over a distant hill, just the sight of my husband and son bent over messy numbers with sleepy eyes.
Good night stories are never-ending, my husband sits alongside his princess happy to accommodate her pleas for just one more chapter from a new book. He will forever be her knight in shining armor, warding off the shadows and drawing her into dreams as she slips into sleep. A small wish granted at the end of a long day.
Today, while children everywhere prepare to pretend and embrace fantasy for Halloween, my mind and heart are filled with gratitude for my prince and our real life love story.
comfortably unsettled
September 20, 2011 § Leave a comment
Sometimes a little discomfort creates moments of greatness. Sitting among parents and educators gathered together to listen to a speaker on the subject of resilience, I quietly encountered emotions unexpressed that had lain dormant without a voice and hidden behind good intentions. Fear, doubt, uncertainty, hope. Am I parenting properly? In teaching resilience, mistakes are mandatory.
Education is a subject of importance to each parent invested in their child’s future. I have found myself frequently looking outside the box for ways to facilitate my children’s educational experience in the hope that they will gather the tools and life skills to create their own future. The greater lessons are taught outside of class, unprinted in text books.
I could outline for you the schools we have chosen and the teaching styles we have explored but I think there is something to be said for my children’s raw materials. Bottom line: I am blessed with two curious children that love to explore their world, have faith that they can approach new experiences with ability, and a willingness to create with spare parts.
My children’s greatest challenge was me. I am a grown-up stereotypical “good girl” with an eagerness to please and a need to be accepted. Luckily my spunky children are comfortable with an uncomfortable mother. They are secure in their imperfections and aware of their needs and limits. I have become comfortable with imperfect grades, unfinished homework, and simpler schedules; putting my children’s needs before other people’s standards of excellence.
In our house we do our best, work hard, sleep well, relax, play and have family time. We also argue, fighting for what we believe in. We apologize for causing hurt and do not apologize for our differences.
Today I listened to someone tell me we will be okay and I felt immeasurable relief. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. This job of parenting is impossibly imperfect and perfectly rewarding. We do our best and fight for what we believe in. We make mistakes and carry on.
that again
September 18, 2011 § Leave a comment
Familiar seems to be my specialty, each evening I serve That Again. Perhaps my family is unfamiliar with the proper name of the recipe. In this case the substitution of a neutral, one-size-fits-all title similar to What’s Her Name can clearly be interpreted as an effort to be social and mingle over a meal. I would infer a passive aggressive complaint, but that assumption would contradict the complacent silence that follows my weekly endeavor to please plea of What would everyone like to eat? I am unquestionably the Culinary Queen of the quintessential Overdone. I would like to thank the little people in my life for making this moment possible.
measure of time
September 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
Big brown eyes brimming with wonder, my son is fascinated by the immeasurable quality of time. His first insight came over a year ago when he uttered casually: I wish there were a way to recycle wasted time. I immediately captured his words on paper and frequently re-read his sentiment marveling at the purity of his wish.
This summer, as the school year approached, he revisited the subject of time feeling overwhelmed by the dwindling days of summer vacation. Mournful and mindful of each day leading up to the first day of school, he was reflective and sensitive. He would passionately proclaim the imbalance of time’s measurement, convinced that time passes too quickly functioning outside the boundaries marked by the simple hands of man-made clocks.
Last night, he came to me long gangly legs awkwardly tumbling down the stairs, a face marked by discovery and a voice hushed with the awe of awareness and said: Mom, I figured out the true meaning of happiness in life. You can wish all you want for your birthday and Christmas, but you shouldn’t. Time will slip away through your fingers, but you won’t realize it. The true meaning of happiness is to enjoy each and every day.
Again, I felt the need to capture a singular moment in time, my fingers rushing desperately across my keyboard attempting to catch his words in proper sequence. This child that came to me as an unexpected gift, a happy surprise, has marked the passing of years with an awareness and wisdom that inspires me to embrace each moment.
just say ouch
September 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
Stubbed toe, paper cut, minor burn; in each instance we instinctively flinch, move to protect or comfort ourselves, and say ouch. It occurs to me that there are other moments when speaking our mind is coded in etiquette, covering up genuine feeling with good behavior. I can’t, I wish I could, maybe next time seem like fantastic, dramatic versions of no. Instead of speaking my truth, I often say yes and then carry the burden of my own self-induced discomfort. I am learning to say no, but the lessons along the way have left me feeling a little sore and muttering ouch.
I spent the first several years of my married life distorting my own opinions, wishes, and needs to accommodate the expectations of my mother-in-law. I was determined to please and escape the stereotypical power struggle. Instead, I created an unrealistic expectation of agreeability that has haunted me ever since. The late introduction of the word no deemed mean spirited rather than an expression of different needs.
I am equally certain I have friends that think I like particular hobbies or collectables because my polite conversation was void of any word resembling no. I am so fascinated and inspired by the diverse group of women in my life that I will nod amiably to garner their company rather than risk differentiating myself by just saying no.
Today, sitting in a room full of bright, thoughtful women, that give generously of their time to our elementary school I wondered how many of them are overextended because somewhere along the way saying no was deemed selfish. This thought distracted me throughout our noon meeting as I considered the familiar faces of the volunteers. Despite the variety of fundraisers or academic events, it seems the same names find their way onto each list. This year, I stepped back from a couple of my previous responsibilities for personal reasons; logical, valid reasons that suddenly felt selfish in the company of other mothers. I began to feel guilty for using the word no even though speaking it gave me peace.
I have no clear answer, but I cannot seem to shrug the question of how do we express ourselves genuinely without alienating people we love and while acknowledging our own unique needs?
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.
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.
individual inspiration
August 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
One person, inspiring a connection that forever changes the trajectory of a lifetime. I wonder, who would that be for each of us?
For some it could be a spiritual connection. Identifying with a belief that transpires time and fosters faith, unseen and universal. A sense of belonging to an ideology that draws strangers together in worship and action.
Perhaps others would make a romantic connection, identifying “The One.” A first love, old love, new love, unrequited love, or spouse. Finding a sense of belonging in another.
As a mother I cannot imagine my life without my children. There is an innocent, all-consuming love; their joy and pain felt as my own.
Friendship, platonic love that shelters us in moments of difficulty and celebrates us; guides us and balances us. The kind souls that we turn to without hesitation for understanding even when we cannot find words.
Then there is self-love. What if we never met ourselves; accepted our challenges and acknowledged our strengths? Would other relationships be the same if we never truly knew ourselves?
I am hesitant to place the burden of my destiny in another. I cannot imagine my story without the multitude of personalities that have led me to the present moment. I wonder, can anyone choose one person or identify one relationship that changes everything?
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