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Certainty for Today

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“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” – Nelson Mandela

My internet browser keeps trying to bait me to find out who I’m voting for 2024 election. It presents headlines from one side or another to see what I’ll click on.

From my point of view, I don’t want to click because I don’t want it to feed me what I want to hear. It’s not that I’m uninterested or uninformed. In these days before this hotly contested election, I’d love to have some certainty. But not at the price of wrong information and expectations that will lead to disappointment.

So instead I’ve made my list of the things I’m fairly certain will happen today:

The sun will rise and set.
That I’ll feel moments of awe, angst, and amusement.

Cooper the dog will put something in his mouth that he’s not supposed to.

And I’ll eat a little or a lot of Halloween candy.

Miss O and Mr. D will make me laugh
and some toys will be played with.

I will not make it through my to-do list.
But I will accomplish enough of my must-love list.

We’ll learn something, spill something, and read something.
One kid, or both, will anger the other and apologies will have to be made.

That amidst the rush and hustle of daily life with a nine-year-old and a five-year-old,
I’ll feel the overwhelming gratitude and love that I was able to choose to have this family
Using IVF.

And that’s why I never needed to open my browser to figure out which way to vote. I voted for Kamala Harris so that other families can choose, if they need to, to have days filled with the same types of certainties I’m likely to have today.

Loving and Learning

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“Life isn’t about getting and having, it’s about giving and being.” – Kevin Kruse

I was chatting with another parent at a party the other night. Let’s call her Casey, because, well, that’s her name. Casey was telling me about spending the night prior sleeping on the floor next to their new puppy’s crate. Since I was fresh off of sleeping on the couch for my puppy when he was getting adjusted, I was nodding along.

Then Casey said that a friend of hers told her she had made a mistake by getting a puppy. The opinion was logical: she laid out all the plans Casey had said she wanted to do like rebuilding her acupuncture practice in a new location and thought the puppy was not conducive to Casey’s goals.

Hmm, is love ever directly conducive to our goals?

Perhaps when it is the goal itself but from my experience, love is the big disruptor that often interrupts our progress on the things we can measure.

I’m thinking of this past weekend when my four-year-old son wanted to sit on my lap as I was writing a post so I switched to typing one-handed.

Or the time 20 years ago when I screwed up a work presentation because my new love wanted to spend time and so I forgot to practice.

And the swollen eyes I had for weeks after I had to say goodbye to my last dog, making it nearly impossible to concentrate or pull myself together.

And yet:

My four-year-old, Mr. D, has been bounding out of bed in the morning to say “hi” to the puppy. I find him with his arm around the dog or the cat as he tries to broker peace for his new best friend. And having a puppy has also made him more organized to keep track of his Bun Bun stuffy so that it stays out of the dog’s sharp teeth.

My eight-year-old daughter, Miss O, has a new way to make friends. We stood outside the school gate this afternoon letting kid after kid pet the puppy while she proudly showed them how she’s trained him to sit. And the puppy is also making her grow up because she’s having to find her inner discipline in order to deliver clear commands to him.

I feel the rumbling at my feet of puppy snores as I type this and feel less alone. I’m also feeling the exhaustion that comes with the extra discernment, communication, and enthusiasm I’m expending to train my kids to train the puppy.

We’re loving and learning. I’m not sure there is anything more conducive to my parenting goals than that. I’ve lost sleep for far less worthy reasons!

What do you think is worth losing sleep for?

Five Minutes from Crying to Trying

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“Cry. Forgive. Learn. Move on. Let the tears water the seeds of your future happiness.” – Steve Maraboli

A few weeks ago I had a frustrating conversation with a friend. Months before this conversation he said that he wanted to come out of retirement to work with me. So I started the process with the company recruiter. He had some great conversations with the team but when it came to structuring the offer, it didn’t match with his expectations.

I tried to convince him that the intentions of the company matched his. That he just needed to have a little faith to try it. And I assured him he could just quit if it didn’t. But to no avail, he was locked into his answer and didn’t want to give it a try.

At the end of this conversation, my frustration boiled over and I burst into tears as I hung up the phone. I don’t cry very often. Instead of staying in my office, I walked out to the backyard where nine-year-old Miss O was.

As I explained to her why I was crying, I had a breakthrough of the next thing I should try to do to push my team forward. It was a funny transition of five minutes from crying to trying.

Miss O has long wondered why grown-ups don’t cry. I’ve never had a very good answer as to why. I will often swear under my breath instead of breaking into tears.

But this circumstance reminded me how cleansing tears can be to wash away whatever is keeping me stuck. Watching my kids, I’m continually amazed at the tools come with being human that I’ve forgotten about. My kids go from crying to trying in five minutes all the time.

It’s unlikely that I’m going to join a frequent crier program. Unless we are talking about laughing because my eyes leak tears of joy all the time. But still a good reminder that authentic expression, however it shows up, including writing about it, helps move us along.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Photos of the Week: September 21

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“May you walk gently through the world and know its beauty all the days of your life.” – Apache Blessing

Basketball with a side of Aikido, and skateboarding

Ducks and geckos

Swords and Seattle from the Great Wheel

Cooper has figured out how to end a game of fetch. Also how to be seen in reflection.

I think the Dunn Lumber sign is encouraging our one hydrangea bud that’s resisting change to just start!

Ring a Bell

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“There is within each one of us a potential for goodness beyond our imagining; for giving which seeks no reward; for listening without judgment; for loving unconditionally.” – Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

I’ve hung a yak bell on the inside handle of my back door for decades. I bought the bell in Nepal when I trekked to Everest base camp so I find it a pleasing sound for many reasons. It’s been useful so that my dogs can signal when they want to go out. Neither Cooper nor Biscuit before him were big barkers so it was pretty easy to train them to ring the bell when they want to go outside.

It’s a lot harder to train them to just do it when they NEED to go out instead of just want to go out. <Squirrel> But hey, I won’t complain about a system that works most of the time for canine to human communication.

Lately, I’ve been noticing that Cooper rings the bell for the cat. That is, if he sees her sitting outside the door wanting to come in, he’ll ring it. Or, if she’s sitting next to him and wants to go out, he’ll ring the bell. When I open the door, he sits back down and doesn’t go outside as if to say, “I’m just doing this for my friend, the cat. Who could do it for herself but doesn’t want to appear trainable.”

Who says chivalry is dead?

Photos of the Week: September 7

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“The difference between school & life? In school you are taught a lesson and then given a test. In life you are given a test that teaches you a lesson.” – unknown

This week, we did a lot of end-of-summer projects to get ready for the rainy weather. Cooper helped.

We stained the steps. Cooper helped.

Our friend Eric said that he had some style advice for Miss O so she’d be memorable for the first day of 4th grade (left). Fortunately, she choose to listen to her aunt Lindsey instead!

Starting Kindergarten. Miss O did online Kindergarten so this feels like the first time I’ve really experienced this rite of passage. I’m not sure I can even encapsulate all my feelings about this. Except to say that there’s so much hope and potential that comes with this milestone!

The last (likely) lemonade stand of the summer. At least that’s the plan…

Being Difficult

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“There will never be an “us” if I play small.” – Sharon Preiss

Last Monday when Miss O, Mr. D, and I were getting ready for bike camp, nine-year-old Miss O was dragging her feet. She had a ton of “problems” that were blocking her: she couldn’t find shoes, Cooper the dog was in her way, her helmet was missing one unicorn ear, she didn’t remember the route we usually use to go down to the lake, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I turned to her and said, “You are being difficult.”

She replied, “I am.” And then added, “I wish I could tell you when you are being difficult too.”

To which I replied, “Please do. But I’d especially love to know when I’m being difficult when others are trying to be helpful and supportive or if it’s when you all are dragging your feet.”

I’ve been troubled by this conversation ever since. In fact, I’m finding it hard to write about. Here’s my best guess at why.

I think I’m starting to experience the generational BS that women in my family pass down. And it’s so ingrained and insidious, I’m not even doing it intentionally.

“You are being difficult.” It’s like code for saying that I expect her to fall in line and be agreeable. To be flexible and accommodating like a young woman.

To be fair, she was being difficult. It’s just that the word hits a note of a gender stereotype that I’ve tried to avoid my whole life. I had no intention of passing it on. Then it slipped out of my mouth.

I’m naturally pretty agreeable. But inheriting the expectations of how a woman should behave has kept me from speaking up when I needed to – both in pursuing my own interests and also when something is wrong. And it kept me playing small. Trying not to stand up or stand out has kept me quiet about what I know or am capable of doing. It’s made me intentionally dim my light so I’m not too much.

It’s taken me decades in leadership positions to figure out that I can be genial AND forthright. And when needed, it’s acceptable to be hard-headedly, certainly, yet kindly, difficult.

So, I’m officially okay with Miss O being difficult. While I prefer she not do it when we are heading out the door, it’s fine if she does that too. Because sometimes that is when we learn to flip the script.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Riding the Rhythm Into the Comfort Zone

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“Each one must learn the highest wisdom. It cannot be taught in words.” – Smowhala Wanapum

We’ve just returned from two week vacation on the beach. It was an incredible privilege to be able to take that time. It was born of a feeling that Mr. D needed a break between his 52-weeks-a-year preschool and starting Kindergarten. But it turned out to be something we all needed.

We had lots of friends join us. My friend, Eric, was with us a good deal of the two weeks. Also, my oldest friend, Katie, my meditation teacher, Deirdre, my mom, and one of Miss O’s friends came with her mom for part of the time.

But we also spent a number of days just the three of us. For anyone not in this phase of life with young children, it’s a tricky thing to present children with a whole lot of unstructured time. Ah, who am I kidding? It seems to be problematic for most every age.

For us, it started out with some rough moments. Mr. D lost it a few days in a row. The things that set it off were so innocuous. Like the time he didn’t want Miss O and her friend to go out in the dinghy after dinner even though he was invited and included. It had to be something else bugging him.

And then we found the rhythm. Activity, break, activity, food, activity, break, food, activity, bed. For example, wake up, walk on the beach, and then take a break; go swimming and then break for lunch; then pickleball; take a break; dinner and paddleboarding, then have some downtime watching shows and go to bed.

Here’s the lesson I derived for myself – when life feels new or unsettling, find the rhythm. Often the rhythm gets us through even when we are outside of our comfort zone.

It’s like every new hike or mountain I’ve undertaken. I feel the anxiety of not knowing where I’m going. And then I shoulder my pack and start walking. Soon enough, I will find or experience the answers. I just need to rely on the rhythm of my pace until I get there.

Photos of the Week: July 20

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“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

I think it was in Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins where he describes a house in the Pacific Northwest being slowly taken over by the bushes and brambles. I think my neighbor’s house is going the way of Tom Robbins.

And Cooper thinks our neighborhood is going to the ducks.

I swear I spent at least a summer or two as a child riding everywhere on my bike with a swimsuit on. So I felt the delightful pull of nostalgia as I rode behind my kids in their swimsuits on the way to the neighborhood wading pool.

Mr. D learning to paddleboard. And Cooper grateful because he believes that we finally got him a bigger water bowl…

The welcome committee.

Two Miracles and a Giggle

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“Miracles happen only if you believe in miracles.” – Paula Coelho

Miracle One

The other day my mom came over to do some yard work while I was gone, and the kids were at school. Completely gracious of her.

When I came home, I put Cooper the dog and his friend Ziggy in the backyard to play while I had an online meeting. A few minutes later, I realized I could hear Ziggy barking – from the front porch. Hmm…

My mom had left one of the yard gates open. The dogs ran out into the front of my house. While I don’t live on an extremely busy street, it is a street in the city of Seattle with modest traffic, and plenty of places to wander off to. But when I opened the front door, they were safely on the front porch INSIDE a little gate that I have to keep them from running out the front door.

How did they both end up on my front porch on the SAFE side of the gate? If a neighbor did it, they didn’t knock on the door. And to my knowledge, Cooper can’t jump that little gate. And how did they stay together? I’ll never know, but I’m grateful.

Miracle Two

I have a hot tub on my roof deck. It hasn’t heated water in the last couple of years and I’ve assumed this is because I need a new control board. I think it’s not a hard fix but a pretty expensive part for a hot tub I’m on the fence about.

The hot tub is 20 years old. I can’t get a new one because it requires a crane to swing the hot tub up there. So, I’ve gone through some years of replacing parts, many years of not using it, and other years of using it as a cool off tub for the kids.

The other day the kids and I were cleaning it and getting ready to fill it with cold water. I opened the place where the filter goes. Miss O peered in and noticed the head of a kids toy jammed into where the pipes come together.

She got a fork and pried it out. After we finished cleaning it, I filled it up. Guess what? The hot tub works again.

The Giggle

I’ve written in posts about the stories I tell my kids about Simon the bad cat who died six years ago. Like last week’s post, The Archetypes of Story, where I told some favorites about the times he’d run away, break into other people’s houses, and even died on the operating table, only to be revived by kitty CPR.

He’s a favorite character in the house. Even for four-year-old Mr. D who never met him.

So when Mr. D noticed our plastic laundry basket was missing a handle, he said, “What happened to that basket? Did Simon do it?“

It is so good to have someone to blame for everything…