Category: Parenthood

The Best Intentions

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“You are a living magnet. What you attract in life is harmony with your dominant thoughts.” – Brian Tracy

I wrote a post about Mother’s Day and in the following days, I was a more joyful parent. It reminds me that my dad told me the same thing about his 40 years as a Presbyterian pastor – if he wrote a sermon about being a better husband, he was more attentive in the weeks following. It’s no surprise that our actions follow our intention. But what surprises me is that knowing that, I don’t set my intentions more carefully.

So I adjusted my early morning routine to include them: stretch, read, meditate and set my intentions. They aren’t complicated: Be present. See everything as a miracle. Practice gratitude. Listen.

And then productivity gets in the way. Somewhere between getting one kid here and the other one’s lunch packed, sitting down at my desk to work on another thing while constantly getting distracted by emails that come in, then back to picking one kid up, answering the doorbell, chatting with a friend that I happen to run into, I don’t think of them at all. The lofty ideals of the day get lost among the myriad of details.

But instead of feeling bad for that, I notice that intentions are like the piece of paper that I write my to-do list on. They aren’t something to check off my list, they are what I’m writing on. They weave together to create a space for whatever it is I choose to do for the day. And if I lose that piece of paper, I can start with a fresh one for the next day!

Making Friends in Online Kindergarten

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“Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves.” – J. M. Barrie

When I took my daughter to her five-year-old check-up this past fall, the doctor asked how online Kindergarten was going and she answered, “It’s stressful.” And it was! In this year of virtual Kindergarten, my daughter colored on her iPad with a crayon, learned a great deal, and much to my amazement, also made friends.

I’m so grateful to Seattle’s Child Magazine for publishing my essay on making friends in online Kindergarten.

Perspective | A beautiful kindergarten friendship blossoms through a screen

Ripping Off the Band-Aid

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“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” – Dr. Seuss

Last night as we were doing the bedtime routine, I started to change the gauze pad that was on my daughter’s knee from a scrape the day before. When we peeled it back, it was stuck to the scrape in the center. Any little jiggling of it caused her to howl with pain. As I weighed my options, I thought of the intro to MIT behavioral economist Dan Ariely’s book, Predictably Irrational. He tells about his experience as a burn patient when he was in his late teens. He was there for a long time so he’d developed a warm relationship with the nurses. When it came to changing his bandages they’d say it was better to just go quickly to experience the intense pain of ripping the bandages off instead of the slow torture of an incremental peel. Well, Dan of course went off to become a celebrated behavioral economist and studied the question of ripping the band-aid off. Turns out, the pain isn’t any less for the patient – but it is less painful for the nurse.

I sat with that as I wanted so badly to rip off the gauze pad. And I thought of the many corollary experiences where I’ve done something similar – delivered the bad news abruptly because I needed to get it off my chest or severed a relationship without any discussion because I couldn’t stand the back and forth. It is a long standing pattern in my family not to say “no” to giving help when we don’t want to but instead make it so painful for the other person to ask that they never bother in the future. But robbing me of the assurance that I’m doing for the other person has made me think twice before proceeding.

So I left the gauze pad hanging off her knee and tucked her into bed. It filled me with self-doubt because as often is the case in the evenings when I’m tired, I have found my inner voice to be much more critical. In this case I worried that I was not helping my five-year-old face pain. This morning when she awoke, the pad had worked itself off in the night.  It turns out the lesson was that some times we can ride the flow to where we are going instead of pulling with force to get the same place. It’s something I’ve been working a lifetime to understand.  

Enjoy This Time

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“Time has a wonderful way of showing us what matters.” – Margaret Peters

I recently ran into a neighbor whose kids are age 12 and 14 while out walking. As we chatted about the trials of pandemic parenting , the topic of the parenting advice that I’ve heard so often: “enjoy this time, it goes so fast” came up. She confessed that she had recently had said to her mom in tears, “Did I enjoy it enough?”

Of all the advice that I’ve been given throughout my parenting journey so far, that theme of enjoying kids while they are really young has been the most prevalent which makes me think its important. But it’s also the most puzzling because it’s often said so wistfully as if there is a little residual regret. Which makes me think it’s wisdom that’s hard to follow. That makes a lot of sense to me, because while I love being a parent, I’ve found difficult to enjoy this time of early childhood, if we are talking about the Oxford Dictionary definition of to luxuriate, revel or bask in.

At first it’s hard to enjoy because of the sleep deprivation that comes with an infant. And now that I’ve seemed to have gotten past that phase with both kids, I’d say it’s hard because it’s both incredibly busy and repetitive. There are big emotions that cannot yet be regulated and a lot of missed communication with little people just learning to talk. It’s a lot of work.

Of course, parenting is also incredibly rewarding. The amount of change to witness is stunning. These little people are growing and learning at a lightning speed. They want and need so much attention but it’s all absorbed and exhibited pretty quickly in their growth. Reading together, singing together, playing with the farm set out in the backyard, there is so much simple sweetness. The problems my kids have at age 1 ½ and 5 ½ are small and they are solvable.

Trying to understand this hard to follow wisdom, I think of my former hobby of mountain climbing. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed myself while on a mountain. It is a big and hard thing to take on. I’ve felt the same doubt with climbing that I think is being communicated with the parenting advice – did I take in enough of the experience while I was up there?

Here’s what I’ve realized. That climbing mountains and raising young kids have a lot in common. There is a lot of tough endurance involved.  It’s easier if you are in good health but it’s never easy. There are some moments where you are so tired that all the obstacles appear too great and you feel that you can’t keep going. And it all becomes worthwhile if about once an hour, you take a break and raise your head to look at the view.

My neighbor told me that her mom replied to her tearful query, “The fact that you’re crying shows that you did.” Which sounds so wise to me as well. We do our best as we go through it, enjoy it as much as we can and give ourselves some grace for the moments we didn’t.

The Perfect Gift

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“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy.’ They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.” – John Lennon

On a sunny evening this past week I had just put my toddler to bed and my 5 ½ year old daughter was just starting a popsicle while watching her show before bedtime when we heard the ice cream truck outside. She put down the popsicle, started bargaining with me about whether she could get something from the truck all the while moving towards the door. But by the time we’d gotten our shoes and my wallet and gone outside, it was just turning the corner about 100 yards away. It didn’t take her long to realize that we were too late. She sighed, took a deep inhale, then brightened up and said, “It’s okay. Basically, I have a good life.”

And that was what I wanted for Mother’s Day. Healthy kids that are resilient through the ups and downs in life and can express themselves. Really it’s what I want to be too. In the moment before she said it, I couldn’t have defined it as succinctly. But as is often the case with perfect gifts, once I got it, I understood it was exactly what I needed.

Happy Mother’s Day Everyone!

Whole-Hearted Little People

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“I believe that you have to walk through vulnerability to get to courage.” – Brene Brown

Early yesterday morning there was a fly in my daughter’s room. It woke her up early with its buzzing and between her efforts to get it and to get me to get it, my son was awakened early. Which is why my kids were grumpy last night. When I told my daughter to stop taking the toys away from my son, she said, “I know, I know, I’m the worst kid.” And when I told my son to stop picking the flowers and leaves off the plants in the planters, he lay on the ground drumming his hands and fists. In my observations of these little people, it’s pretty consistent that my daughter internalizes negative feelings while my son externalizes them.

I don’t have a strong belief when it comes to male and female energies. I was brought up to believe that I could be whatever I wanted and so I got my degree in electrical engineering and climbed mountains as a hobby even though both were male-dominated activities. Now I’m a single parent combining the traditional roles of mom and dad and I don’t think much about making a distinction. So it is with complete fascination that I watch these two kids come out with different ways of being.

It made me think of a generalized progression of how we can develop into our stereotypical males and females from where we start. For boys who are taught not to express their emotions through thumping their hands on the floor, they can become stoic and unexpressive. For girls who want to avoid the pain of turning their feelings inward, they can start trying to become perfect.

This reminds me of a fascinating passage I read from Canadian psychologist and author, Jordan Peterson who argues that it’s the thousands years of evolution that has created the conditions for the male and female psyches.

“Women are choosy maters … It is for this reason that we all have twice as many female ancestors as male (imagine that all the women who have ever lived averaged one child. Now imagine that half the men who have ever lived have fathered two children, if they had any, while other half fathered none). It is Woman as Nature who looks at half of all men and says, “No!” For the men, that’s a direct encounter with chaos, and it occurs with devastating force every time they are turned down for a date. Human female choosiness is also why we are very different from the common ancestor we shared with our chimpanzee cousins, while the latter are very much the same. Women’s proclivity to say no, more than any other force, has shaped our evolution into the creative, industrious, upright, large-brained (competitive, aggressive, domineering) creatures that we are.”

12 Rules for Life – Jordan Peterson

That extremely long view argues that there isn’t much I can do as a parent to affect the expression of the male and female energies and I’m not sure that I agree with that. In wanting my kids to develop as authentic, healthy and kind beings and good citizens of the Universe, I can’t just throw in the towel and chalk it up to human nature. So I’m borrowing from sociologist and researcher Brene Brown’s work on shame and vulnerability, Dr. Tina Payne Bryson and Dr. Dan Siegel’s work on brain integration and regulation, and developmental biologist John Medina’s work to build up our ability to name our emotions, develop resilience from shame and failure and work on walking through vulnerability to arrive at courage. I believe we can work towards being whole-hearted beings regardless of gender and I’m sticking with that.. and getting a good night’s sleep!

Live in Your Hands

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“Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I read a story the other day about an old sage whose last instruction was “Live in your hands.” I find that both cryptic and useful. Cryptic because of all the time I spend meditating to get out of my head but where I usually think I’m trying to land is living from the heart. And it’s useful because I can so easily observe what I do with my hands.

On Sunday, I was home with my kids and we had nowhere we needed to be and no one coming over. On a day like that, my hands cook, clean and soothe. I hold my hot tea in the morning with my hands, I spend a lot of time holding my baby with one hand and cooking or cleaning up with the other. There is also a constant effort to stem the tide of destruction and disaster. My hands put away toys, cap the playdough, sort the puzzle pieces into their appropriate slots, they cut paper, pour paints and wash brushes. And they touch my kids a lot – changing diapers, combing out hair, cleaning the dirt from tiny little nostrils and that small spot on the bridge of the nose next to the eyes. My hands rub backs, hold hands when we go on a walk around the neighborhood, soothe cries with little pats and drum rhythms on little backs. My hands flair out for a good move in a dance party, hold the paper steady for a drawing challenge and fold in for a magic trick my daughter makes up. Then the end of the day comes and my hands apply lotion, help with jammies, smooth out the sheets, turn the pages of bedtime books, fold into prayer pose and flip the light switches off. And finally, I got some time to myself so my hands type on the computer, tap texts out on the phone and brush my own teeth and hair.

I am often frustrated at the end of a day like Sunday that I didn’t get anything done. I love finishing things and on a day home with my kids, it feels like I finish nothing. But living in my hands was a fascinating way to observe where the time goes. The job of parenting at my kids ages of 1 ½ and 5 ½ is so physical, it’s a hands-on job. And spending the day observing that made me appreciate what an honor that is because it won’t always be the case.

Live in your hands. My new favorite observation point. What do you do with yours?

The Art of Packing

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“Great things happen when men and mountains meet.” – William Blake

My daughter was looking in my drawer of kitchen accessories and asked about an open-ended tube I had in there. I explained it was a tube for mountain climbing so that you could fill it with something like hummus or peanut butter and then crimp the end to seal it up. They way you don’t have to carry more than you need. She asked, “Why not take the whole container of hummus?” And that sparked the muscle memory I have of loading a backpack for a 2 or 3 day climb and paring it down to just the essentials.

It seems to for every trip I’ve made an equipment list, packed more than necessary with me for the travel to the mountain and then at the base, sorted through to pack only what I need to feed me, keep me safe and warm and also my share of group gear for the team. It’s an art that I learned from experienced mountain guides and it very much affects how well the climb is going to go. Pack too much and you will wear yourself out on the lower reaches of the mountain getting to the first camp. And if you pack too little you will likely be uncomfortable or even worse, unsafe, on the upper part of the mountain when you need that extra layer or extra battery for your headlamp. If you forget to put in the group gear, you might just be the goat that didn’t bring the tent poles and jeopardized the trip for everyone. Many things can go wrong when packing. On one trip climbing some volcanoes in Mexico, a guy on the trip couldn’t find his Payday bar at a rest break. Then we stopped again at 16,000 feet on the side of the mountain waiting for the lead team to try to get some ice screws attached so we could cross an exposed part of the route and he found it in his boot.

Since I haven’t climbed any mountains since I got had kids, it’s been a least six years since I’ve done the packing but I still hold on to it as such a great metaphor for the journey through life. At some point, it helps if we empty out all that we are carrying in our pack and make sure we are ONLY carrying what feeds us and keeps us safe. If we carry too much baggage, like memories of all the times we’ve failed, it hampers our ability to go far.  And if we carry too little, like not figuring out our patterns of picking unhealthy partners or friends, we expose ourselves to the same dangers again. If we don’t carry our share of the group gear, like concern for the health of the community and planet we live in/on, the whole enterprise could fail. And if we can’t find what we need, sometimes it helps to sit down, take off the pack and find out what is making our metaphorical boot so uncomfortable before we continue on.

I get a chill when I think of how edifying it is each time I try to explain something to my kids. Which is good because my daughter’s next question was, “Why do people climb mountains anyway?”

The Journey of Obedience

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“When we do the best that we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or the life of another.” – Helen Keller

My daughter came home from school yesterday with a story about a kid in her class. She said, “Jimmy almost got kicked out of Hutton Hawks.” Hutton being the name of the school Hawks being the school mascot, it sounds way more serious with both together. I asked what Jimmy did. He drank water in the classroom and spit it out on his desk – twice. I assume that’s a no-go in regular times but in these coronavirus times where the kids are wearing masks, aren’t allowed any food or drink in the classroom and their primary activity is to wash their hands, that’s definitely not going to fly. In these first weeks of in-person Kindergarten, my daughter is fascinated by the behavior of other kids. Like Natalie didn’t do her work and pouted. Also Jimmy ran into the zone on the playground designated for 1st graders. And the big one – Jimmy almost had to go to the principal. (Names changed to protect the young).

This story reminds me of the word obedient. My dad used it frequently when talking about his journey through life. As in “I just knew I had to be obedient to what I saw as the Truth in God.” And slowly my understanding of obedience in the sense of the word that my dad used is developing. For much of my younger life, I thought of it in terms of Jimmy. The need to obey the school rules or else suffer the consequence of not being a Hutton Hawk. But now I see it as more of integrity – the integrity to marry myself and my values with the Divinely inspired path that I’m on. The act of listening to that small God voice within to find my way. The continual search for how to love and serve in my life and work. All of that pretty much boils down to my dad’s definition in my own words, a translation of wisdom between generations.

There is no chance I would have spit water on my desk like Jimmy when I was young. I feared the principal too much not to mention what my parents would have said. But now that I am middle-aged, there aren’t too many authority figures that influence my behavior. Trying to grow, learn and do the right thing have become part of my system and I suppose that’s one of the key parts of growing up. We are held externally accountable until we can develop our own internal accountability. Hopefully Jimmy can figure out obedience until he grows up too.

There is so much in my daughter’s story that is emblematic of how strange this last year has been. We haven’t had much chance to observe people that are strangers to us. Kids, especially those as young as my daughter who haven’t ever been in school, are having to re-learn how to socialize again after a year apart. Teachers are having to enforce COVID rules on top of all the usual school rules. Parents are having to help bridge the gap where all of these things come together. I have so much empathy for all the parties involved – this is hard. So I hope and pray we can use all our skills to listen to each other and obey while we navigate these choppy waters.

Unplugging the Chain Reaction

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“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.” – Rainier Maria Rilke

Yesterday as I was meditating, my daughter came downstairs and interrupted me. She said she was scared about school. Given that it was only her 3rd Monday since in-person school started, it’s not a surprise. But my meditation time is sacred to me. I’ve found essential in helping me fill my pool of grace for the day so after I held her for a moment, I told her she could snuggle on the couch while I meditated. After a couple quiet minutes, she asked what I was reading. I didn’t answer. After a couple more quiet minutes, she said meditating reminded her about the small greenhouse they made at school. Instead of finding my calm, my whole system was on overdrive. I felt protective over my space and time that have so little of. I felt angry that I’d gotten up early and couldn’t even control my own experience for a few minutes. I couldn’t believe I let her be there in clear violation of the rule to wait until her clock turns yellow and then she made it about her.

And then when I reached that last feeling, the one about her making it all about her, I realized I had just lit up like a string of Christmas lights as my meditation teacher, Deirdre, likes to say. I connected a single experience with a whole chain reaction that had mostly to do with my ex-husband. He was a master of taking something that I wanted to do like hiking and make it all about him. He’d say “Let’s go!” But then he’d say we couldn’t drive to far so he could be back to watch a golf tournament on tv. And then he’d dilly dally getting ready because he couldn’t find his favorite socks. Then we’d finally get into the car and he’d need to stop so he could get a double-tall latte. When we finally get hiking, he’d go about half a mile and say he didn’t want to go much farther because he didn’t want to be sore the next day.

While I assume it’s completely natural for a 5-year-old to make things all about her, it was a tiring for a 30-something man to do the same. But what interested me about yesterday is that nine years after I ended that relationship and many years since lost its hold on my heart and mind space, that something simple could light me up like those proverbial Christmas lights. AND that it could do that while I was meditating to restore inner calm is the ironic icing on the cake.

The only fix I have is to unplug the string. To see the trigger and in recognizing it, steal its power. My daughter and I have been reading Harry Potter. They have an incantation, “riddikulus” that turns something scary into something funny. And maybe in doing that, I can reach a new level of meditation, one where I can do it when everything isn’t calm and quiet but even a little unsettled as well.