shared time
June 27, 2012 § Leave a comment
While my daughter explores the novelty of day camp my son and I are squandering our mornings together.
On Monday we spent the early morning walking a quiet path around a local lake. The first few laps I listened as my son jumped from topic to topic until he slowly made room for my thoughts. When the sun chased us into the shade we drove to a shared favorite spot settling into oversized chairs with books.
Yesterday we balanced necessary errands with moments of silliness. We ordered lunch from the hot dog stand downtown watching pedestrians from our perch on a park bench before indulging in assorted treats from a local candy store. We talked about nothing in particular and found humor in I Spy observations like a pacifier that read volume control.
Today we settled indoors with individual endeavors. Like parallel play we are happily occupied in our own interests but sharing a little more time together. Stolen moments of nothing in particular that mean everything.
sack lunch
June 26, 2012 § Leave a comment
This afternoon I was eager to capture my daughter’s new camp experience. Embracing a quiet moment to gather my thoughts I was distracted by a nagging awareness I couldn’t quite name. I began looking around the house wondering what was amiss. Looking to the calendar I quickly realized I had misread the camp itinerary for today, confusing it with tomorrow. This morning I packed my daughter’s mess kit for her group’s food preparation activity scheduled for tomorrow. Slowly, my error caught up with me. I had not sent today’s sack lunch.
My realization came moments before I needed to leave and collect my daughter from the bus stop. Negative thoughts chased through my mind. How could I make such an error? I am a horrible mother. What must my daughter have thought? What must the camp counselors think? Then, something unexpected happened.
My daughter’s missing lunch became another adventure woven into her day. She laughed at the “horrible peanut butter and jelly sandwich that wasn’t actually that bad.” The counselors reassured me the oversight was not uncommon, lending me humor and dismissing my guilt. Everything was okay despite my error.
Behind my mistake was a lovely lesson in imperfection. My daughter didn’t feel less loved. The counselors didn’t reprimand me for failure. Instead, my daughter and the counselors helped me to accept my own fallibility. Small moment, big lesson.
happy camper
June 26, 2012 § Leave a comment
In each lifetime there are moments we jump into and moments we dance around uncertainly. This week my daughter faced a new experience and as she worked through her emotions, I held my breath bearing the weight of my own uncertainty.
I like predictable rhythms marking the passage of my days. Despite a well guarded wish for easy spontaneity I often struggle at the crest of a new experience anxious for the comfort of familiarity. When my daughter vehemently protested participating in a day camp with tears and passionate declarations of resistance punctuated by quiet pleas for dismissal from our commitment,I wavered tempted to release her from discomfort. My maternal instinct, the piece of my heart that whispers reassurance in moments of hesitation, nudged me forward into the discomfort conscious of the potential joy hidden within the experience.
My nature lover would have the benefit of a new outdoor setting to explore, plants and animals to discover. My social butterfly would find friendship flittering between crafts and play. The little girl who wants so much to be considered big would be permitted room to exercise her independence and accept responsibility. I tucked my daughter into bed on the eve of her camp tallying these opportunities for reassurance.
My camper woke slowly, her smiles reserved as she watched the clock and noted the rising sun the following morning. Between bites of chocolate chip waffles the quiet was sprinkled with curious questions that seemed to suggest a cautious enthusiasm. Waiting for the bus my daughter stood just outside the cluster of girls, observing. I noted her eyes eagerly measuring her surroundings for clues. Last to fall into line I followed the shadow of my daughter’s form as she made her way slowly down the bus aisle looking for a place to sit. She settled in a seat alone and the outline of her profile remained unmoving as the other girls swirled around her. A friend from school appeared just as the bus prepared to depart, finding her way to my daughter’s side and lending them both the reassuring company of a familiar face. As the bus pulled away I set aside uncertainty for faith.
Letting my daughter find her way through frustration, fear, and uncertainty forced me to navigate my doubts. I do not need to shield my daughter from challenges or allow my own experiences to inform her expectations. At day’s end the morning’s hesitance was replaced with a calm confidence; uncertainty overshadowed by pride. In the space of a day we both grew a little more comfortable with the uncomfortable feelings that accompany a new experience; more secure in our ability to leap into a new moment.
paper shields
June 22, 2012 § 1 Comment
I gather my day into order with lists, endeavoring to control the unpredictable with logical predictions etched on paper. My days end and begin with intention, nudging me into the world where the impossibility of controlling the unpredictable teases my paper shield. In the uncomfortable spaces, chaotic and vulnerable, I must leave room for unnamed moments to better greet possibility with openness. My greatest moments of growth and consciousness occur in the margins of my anticipation.
growing up & standing still
June 21, 2012 § Leave a comment
My high school reunion is around the corner, I am navigating old memories and new doubts. Twenty years later it seems as though time stood still, slumbering insecurities have stirred new insights into pieces of my past.
Returning psychologically to a place in time littered with painful memories has highlighted old wounds. The young girl that hid from sadness behind individual endeavors, love stories, and moments of rebellion is cautious to revisit the past. The woman I have become feels compelled to face these truths with the same open mind and strength I ask my children to exercise in moments of uncertainty.
I keep returning to the uncomfortable emotions looking for direction. An emptiness and detachment from my peers’ shared experiences conflicts with deeply entangled emotions to individuals, relationships fragmented but infinitely imbedded in my life story. In contrast to my children’s experiences, I did not grow up in one neighborhood. Watching my children create friendships and gather memories I have become acutely aware of the pricelessness of old friends and the richness of shared history.
Looking ahead to the coming year and the opportunity to revisit a piece of my past I am trying to welcome doubts alongside nostalgia, permitting myself a place for growth; lending myself forgiveness and love for old mistakes and missed opportunities while standing firmly and gratefully in the present.
home stretch
June 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
When we purchased my husband’s childhood home we projected our dreams with bold, eager statements of change. Loose this wall, add more light, create storage. We wanted our home to be comfortable and functional, welcoming and rejuvenating. We made room around the kitchen knowing guests gather at the heart of the home. We stretched our living space to encompass the outdoors. We created work space and play space giving everyone room for themselves and room to grow together.
We settled our children’s rooms first. Each child moving into a sanctuary from the chaos of construction around them. Our kitchen consumed the first year as we merged the divided space of our main floor, opening rooms to shared space. Our family room was stripped of dark paneling and brightened with paint, the bulky dark brick replaced with a simpler wood frame. The stained siding and weathered windows were replaced; the once overgrown backyard was tamed into an outdoor living room. The bathrooms a final time capsule of my husband’s youth.
Tomorrow the kids and I will leave for a quick visit to my parents’ home while my husband flushes our dated bathrooms. Gone is the giddy excitement for change, replaced with a peaceful expectation of completion. The hours, days, and months of distraction buried within each project will be traded for more time together.
There will be no more need to search ideas, filter options, spend finances on fixtures. As we near the end of our wishes for our house, I am drafting new wishes for our time together. Thinking more of how we live in this space we have made. Investing extra time and effort into the life we have built between these walls.
gift of sight
May 23, 2012 § Leave a comment
This morning my husband and I sat with a group of teachers, therapists, and administrators listening to individual reports measuring my daughter’s abilities and weighing resources to best facilitate her academic needs. Throughout the meeting I felt my daughter’s toothless smile peeking between the endless pages of documentation.
As I make peace with uncomfortable labels I keep returning to the image of my daughter quietly asking me to look beyond the words and read this moment truthfully, wholeheartedly embracing her story authentically. To do this I must acknowledge my own truths. In a personal note to a close friend I shared dark words of shame: There is a part of me that wants to block this piece out, pretend it away.
The question is which part of my daughter would I wish away? There is no singular gift that is not, in part, tied to her challenges. Her sense of compassion for others fostered in an appreciation for challenges; her patience born of tolerance for differences; her creativity a lovely substitute for more conventional forms of expression. Which beautiful piece of her spirit would I trade for a simpler path?
Would I trade her ability to hear birds sing or see the sunset for the ability to memorize math facts? Could I trade the sight of her chasing fireflies or painting a daydream for a mastery of sight words? I cannot separate pieces of my daughter and still see her completely.
These challenges are part of her story and I am her witness. At the end of this journey I will know how difficult her path was and the effort it took to reach her goals. Instead of wishing away this moment, I am trying to honor my daughter.
hope & help
May 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
I have been here before; the emotional landscape familiar. Uncertain, hopeful, nervous. This week I will gather with the same team of teachers, therapists, and administrators that accompanied me on my son’s journey through elementary school to address nagging uncertainties concerning my daughter’s challenges in the classroom setting.
Where some rush to label needs, I have cautiously tiptoed the terrain silently evaluating my daughter’s strengths and difficulties in an effort to measure need. Bright and compassionate, resilient and determined I celebrate her character and growth. Young for her class and a little sister to an older sibling with special needs I gauged maturity and environment against my concerns.
As time has passed my daughter’s frustration has begun to rob her of her easy smile and confidence. Where I measure her growth against independent efforts, she has begun measuring her failure against others’ success. Once eager to line up among friends and begin the day, my daughter has begun to hide beneath her blanket and drag her feet preparing for school. This is where I cannot fail.
As a student of life I cannot bear the thought that my daughter could resist an opportunity to learn or that school has become a place marred by failure rather than a safe haven for ideas and curiosity. This moment of self-doubt must evolve into a new lesson in resilience. Tomorrow I will bring this hope into action: that we partner between home and school to create a place of possibility and nurture the spirit of education that my daughter will once again reach for the stars without first measuring the impossible distance from a place grounded in doubt.
to my son
May 20, 2012 § Leave a comment
Thank you for your easy company. I forget sometimes to set aside my worries and teaching moments for simpler moments of shared time. While your father and sister embarked on an outdoor adventure, we settled into lazy, directionless time together and the conversation skills I normally practice with you unfolded easily. The sound of your laughter and your sharp wit were a happy soundtrack to our errands and meals together. You are ever the little boy who used to toddle along beside me, but now your form stretches near my height and your gait falls comfortably in my company. There are no photographs to capture our laughter and no extravagant plans to recall this time. Just a moment’s reflection with a full heart. I loved you from the very beginning, but liking who you are is an endless blessing. Love, Mom
diy
May 15, 2012 § Leave a comment
The surfaces of my home are scattered with tiles and tools as my husband pieces together the final elements of projects long unfinished. I have spent most of the past week avoiding the din of progress in the unfinished areas of our home. I thought at first it was a matter of chaos, my inherent need for quiet to sift through my thoughts disrupted by the uneven intervals of the saw blade slicing tiles. Today it occurred to me I am more preoccupied by the permanence of the lingering elements. Blank slates now tinted with tones of commitment; possibility replaced with permanence. I am perpetually uncertain, navigating each choice and weighing each cost a story within a story. Peeking prematurely at a project I had long hesitated to finish I was happily surprised to find a sense of self between the elements. As we draw close to finishing the remaining rooms of our home I want to give thanks to my husband for his patience and persistence. Each paint color, tile, and floor board was placed with love for the people who live within these walls. This do it yourself home done selflessly.
