Musings | scribblechic

marking time

December 16, 2012 § Leave a comment

Two years have passed since I first collected my thoughts in this quiet place of remembering. To mark the day I am remembering the place from which my words began:

I write to nurture my spirit with an effort that brings me joy; celebrate my blessings to center my days in gratitude; to document my journey as a wife and mother, friend and dreamer.

To the intimate collection of friends with whom I share my musings, Thank You.

Goodbye kisses and last minute hugs. A kind word or glance tossed over our shoulder. Moments, fleeting, swept into the busyness of early morning school day routines. These tiny gestures will be lost, gone without warning, for families lost to tragedy early this Friday morning. Let us all hold these kindnesses in our own lives closely, remembering that for countless reasons, some entirely unfathomable, these moments one day are the ones we reach for first in need of comfort. Everyday observances of love.

making a list

December 13, 2012 § Leave a comment

Unhindered by lengthy wishes from my children and the hidden blessing of a tiny family I spend little time shopping each Christmas season. My greatest gifts are nestled within the walls of my home; I cherish uncluttered traditions and the warmth of a tree dusted with infinite white lights. My only requests are a romantic gesture from my husband and a sentimental keepsake crafted by my children’s hands. My closest friends and I do not exchange gifts, their company brings more joy than anything bundled in ribbon.

These thoughts accompanied me yesterday as I stole a morning to drift through stores bustling with busy shoppers and trimmed in holiday cheer. Tucked inside my coat pocket were names of teachers and support staff who share my children’s school years. Each holiday I pause, wondering how to celebrate this eclectic company of friends who lend humor, kindness, and wisdom during difficult moments as well as effervescent enthusiasm during moments of accomplishment. The unending string of messages throughout the year are punctuated with thanks – so how do I mark this season of joy with those who understand the measure of my children’s smiles?

Wandering the shelves of a nearby bookstore I visited old titles, friends who have gifted me distractions on difficult days and lent a moment of rest or humor. Then, misplaced alphabetically a familiar story called out to me. Unassuming in a paperback package a recent favorite winked back at me with good cheer. A sweet story of a collection of women caring for a young girl; the girl a friend to books finding her way in a new place. The parallels were as clear as the book titles before my eyes.

This year I am gifting a cherished story to the colorful collection of women who guide my daughter daily at her elementary school; celebrating the helpful spirits who nurture her through academic challenges while acknowledging my daughter’s strengths. For the cast of quiet support staff who sprinkle moments of warm hugs and sweet sentiments I am sharing a cup of cocoa, an excuse to indulge in a moment of stillness and reflection steeped in gratitude. Finally, for the two special souls who give my son social sustenance, a place of belonging and camaraderie during the overwhelming lunch hour in the hectic halls of middle school I am indulging in the gift of a meal.

Whimsy and simplicity, nourishment and indulgence for a list of friends whose gifts are greater than my thanks.

crashing

December 12, 2012 § Leave a comment

Yesterday was enchantingly deceptive, my son’s evening unfolded with ease and I embraced a tiny measure of academic and social success greedily. Today, twirling through my errands my heart lighter for the simple joys of the day before I was off-kilter when a message from my son’s school caught me happily distracted, defenses down, entirely unprepared for reports of a day riddled with challenges.

While I was checking off last minute holiday errands and visiting with a close friend, my son had run off course at an alarming speed crashing into conflict. My ignorance was indulgent, the awakening abrupt. These moments when an unforeseen challenge mocks a quiet success I begin looking for markers, unraveling available information, trying to piece together a puzzle that might lend clarity and direction. Like a triage nurse I tuck away emotions to better evaluate symptoms, moving quickly to aide.

Today I sought a familiar voice of authority to share the school day’s challenges, guarding my worries behind self-depreciating humor and a smile, my mind working circles around the information. In a rare moment of unpredictable failing there was no easy, logical answer and that reality brought frustration and sadness in the quiet car ride home from school. Despite my best effort some days crash into others and leave me tender, ever mindful of challenges outside my control.

Tonight, as I set aside expectations and tip toe more cautiously around my hopes, I am mindful that my son stands in the middle of the chaos – misplaced and unaware. In truth, I envy his total lack of inhibitions; he is marching happily to a tune all his own and I must remember to hold tightly to his joy least I allow outside expectations to steal a genuine appreciation for his sense of self. He is mine and entirely his own, more beautiful for his flaws.

scrooge

December 9, 2012 § Leave a comment

At twelve my son has mastered the art of disinterest; his legs stretched, body slumped, eyes intentionally slipping skyward on just audible sighs. I sometimes cringe at the angst that accompanies us on family outings. Yesterday my son’s mood sat between us as we filed into plush red velvet chairs for an afternoon play.

While my daughter marveled at the world hovering in wait for the story, my son mumbled impersonal grievances; the darkness of the storyline, the unnecessary waste of electricity in illuminating the set while patrons waited, the potential toxins in the fog. I mothered accordingly, a tiny squeeze to my daughter’s hand registering her joy and a gentle nudge to my son’s knee to silence his litany of misgivings. It was not that long ago that my son hovered on the edge of an indulgent theater chair lost to the beauty of a performance. Older now he hides his joy with the same choreographed cautiousness he camouflages fears.

Sitting beside my son, I registered the challenges that haunt the experience of the theater. Loud noises and uncomfortable lights trap my son in discomfort. Despite his mature form he still curls into himself when sounds and lights cause discomfort others cannot feel. Hands clamped over his ears and head cast downward I slipped an arm around his now broad shoulders reassuring him I understood and helping to mark the safe places to let go.

Like the story that held my daughter under its spell, my son is sometimes lost to challenges within his own story. Yesterday as we watched a timeless tale of a man reflecting over a lifetime in the space of an evening; coming into consciousness of those around him and the errors of his way; growing into a future shaped by generosity and compassion, I gave thanks for the magic of the season and the gentle lessons not lost to the tiny Scrooge beside me painstakingly hiding his fears beneath layers of bravado despite an unconscious, lopsided grin as he neared the edge of his chair.

breathing love

December 8, 2012 § Leave a comment

Sometimes another’s words trigger a stream of thoughts otherwise unbidden, an awakening. I stumbled upon a sentiment, a casual comparison of love and art. Immediately I measured the limitations of such a sweeping generalization – the boundaries too structured for something as all consuming as love. In my mind love is like the air we breathe, experiences we gather into ourselves, moments in time that accompany us on a never ending journey.

learning as we grow

December 5, 2012 § Leave a comment

Yesterday I listened to a speaker address timeless and contemporary concerns in parenting teenagers; universal messages of acceptance and patience were tucked among entertaining anecdotes. Sitting beside me a close friend punctuated the afternoon lecture with small bursts of laughter. Side by side I was mindful that my friend is a witness to my journey, the muddled moments and the small victories. The reassurance of a stranger sharing clinical and personal wisdom alongside the company of a close friend sharing experiences and friendship in mothering I felt the same unspoken sense of community that causes me to smile at a new mother, swaying gently with the memory of my own children as infants. In parenting we are a village without boundaries, learning as we grow.

Returning home I reevaluated my tendency to over-diagnose my son’s sometimes erratic behavior as symptomatic of his unique medical diagnoses, reassured that so many of his recent struggles are overwhelmingly typical. So then when my son walked though the front door in a gust of tears and frustrations I felt prepared to embrace the day’s gentle reminders to parent from a place of compassion. Rather than react, I let my son unravel his mood without judgment or lectures. I didn’t coddle or criticize, I treated the child whose shoulders fall closer to my own height these days in much the same way I treated his younger sister recently when she was struggling to share something difficult – I diffused both of our defenses by taking a step back and listening.

Something that previously would have upset me became an opportunity rather than a failure. My son shared his error and without my projecting responsibility he accepted responsibility freely. In turn, I accepted my disappointment alongside pride. Most importantly, I shared a moment of growth with my son I may have hindered with assumptions and expectations. It was an imperfect moment, but I am learning; finding my way with humor, humility, and compassion for the young man finding his way.

{re}gift

December 4, 2012 § 2 Comments

Each holiday season my husband and children seek to uncover my Christmas wish. Fickle in my likes and unimpressed by grand gestures, I tend to wish for intangible things that cannot be wrapped in ribbon. This year, aware that even the littlest elves want to watch their gift uncover a smile of genuine gratitude I have been sifting through sentimental trappings for inspiration. These are my wishes:

A memory. The sight of my children’s handwriting preserving a special moment that I can experience from their perspective.

A book. Pages rifled by a friend’s hand would be well placed on my shelf.

A photograph. Images of moments long passed are snapshots of self we sometimes cannot see.

I have no use for decorations or jewelry, my treasures are inexpensive keepsakes of fortunes untold. This year I am wishing for pieces of the past recycled consciously among the present to cherish for days to come.

finding words

December 3, 2012 § 2 Comments

On an unexceptional evening, on a nondescript day, a small request lead to a discussion I had not imagined and an experience that reminds me we are always gathering strength and courage for days we cannot predict.

It began when I wasn’t looking. Snuggling beside my daughter, lost to a late night movie, her voice found me in quiet, urgent tones: Mom, I have something I need to tell you. I’m worried about how you will feel when I tell you this and how I will feel when you know.

My little girl for whom language is often a tangled riddle spoke clearly with a hushed urgency. The quiet in her voice contradicted the noise in my head and I felt myself center squarely in the moment. Clicking off the television I turned to my daughter and began with a promise. Making certain I had her full attention I held her eyes and hands pledging, There is nothing you could say that could change how I feel about you. Period.

Her pause was tangible and my nerves frayed by the weight of what rested unspoken. Not wanting to lose the moment I mothered gently, offering: I am going to look away so that you are not worried about my reaction. When you are ready, tell me as much or as little as you wish.

Her words came quickly. My little girl’s words filled the room and I collected my thoughts and emotions while she shared a difficult experience. At eight years old she had found herself trapped in an uncomfortable dilemma with a trusted friend.

Cautiously, aware this is the first in a series of crossroads that will map my daughter’s lifetime, I began my response by thanking her for trusting me and reassuring her that she had made the right choices. Then I briefly celebrated the markers my daughter used to navigate her experience: listening to her inner voice, placing boundaries between herself and harm, seeking someone she trusted to hear her story, and reaching out for support. Despite feeling overwhelmed and helpless, my daughter had exhibited the very strength she was seeking in my confidence.

It has been a week since her sharing and I have honored her confidence debating how and if there is a space in my story that allows me to preserve this moment in my daughter’s story. In the end, I hope this marks a unique moment at a tender age when my daughter discovered the balance between strength in her own abilities and vulnerability in sharing. I hope this will read one day as a letter of love to a little girl who was and is stronger and braver than she feels.

making time

November 28, 2012 § Leave a comment

Twenty minutes before the start of the school day my daughter asked if we had time to read a book. Her hair still tangled and her lunch unmade I debated nestling up with a book or scurrying through last minute preparations. Bewitched by a smile still missing a tooth I settled beside my daughter and indulged her request. She choose a holiday story, a tale of a Christmas tree that is perpetually trimmed to fit a home, the excess piece unknowingly gifted to a new family until each bough belongs.

Hours later as I endeavored to accomplish a list of holiday errands I found myself staring inside a store front at a collection of holiday books. There wasn’t a gift on my list or task to be tackled that carried the value of the minutes shared with my daughter this morning; a moment manufactured upon demand regardless of responsibilities.

I no longer wanted to surprise my children with a new holiday book, rather I wanted to curl on the bookstore floor and sift through titles for a new friend. Rather than arrive at home with a bakery box hiding a seasonal indulgence, I wanted to watch their eyes scan the local baker’s shelves for an old favorite or new curiosity. Together.

I am thinking less of Christmas morning and more of the little sharings sprinkled throughout the month of December as we stretch shorter days to encompass stolen moments of togetherness. Creating time and finding our place beside those who give us a sense of belonging.

Where Am I?