Tag: family

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)

The horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad day

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“Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” – Pema Chӧdrӧn

On this past Saturday, we had a horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad day.*

Cooper the dog, had some potty accidents that we discovered. A couple that I found and cleaned up first thing in the morning, and a couple that Miss O unceremoniously stumbled upon. Ewww. Apparently, Cooper had GI issues after his surgery to remove the grass from his ear on Thursday.

We found some bugs in our pancake mix.

Then nine-year-old Miss O saw that the vines in Rusty, the crested gecko’s enclosure had fallen down. On closer inspection, we’d been misting too much and the whole enclosure was a swamp. So, instead of our to-do list chores, we spent all morning rehabilitating Rusty’s setup.

[Side note: We called my niece to get some advice. She’s the one who gave us Rusty. Miss O told her that we’d gotten Rusty out of the enclosure by saying, “We executed Rusty.” We quickly clarified that we’d evacuated, not executed, Rusty.]

At a kid’s birthday party, five-year-old Mr. D got hit in the head by a water balloon thrown by an 11-year-old boy who had been spitting in the ballons before hurling them.

Our tap water turned brown.

It was literally one thing after another. Some things caused by us, like Rusty’s enclosure. Some things that were random like the water turning brown. Some things caused by other humans like the water balloon.

There is probably nothing that peeves me more than life messing with my efficiency. I was not in a great mood, but I’ve learned from experience that rough days call for leadership, even when I don’t feel like it.

At one point in the day, Miss O exasperatedly said, “This is awful. I don’t know what to do!”

So, we talked about my dad’s approach to just find the next right thing to do. And we took comfort that what we did have to respond to “life” with was each other. We were doing pretty good job of sticking together.

Then as the kids were getting ready for bed, a huge lightning storm came in. Seattle very rarely gets thunderstorms so this was a rare and incredible show. After they brushed their teeth, we snuggled in my bed with all the curtains open and watched the storm.

It was fitting. On a day that seemed extra “life-y,” to let the storm and rain exhaust itself and pass on through. In that way, we weathered the storm.

(featured photo from Pexels)

*Title is a riff on the children’s book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judy Viorst

It’ll Be Alright In the End

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“Everything will be alright in the end, and if it is not alright, it is not the end.” – The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Months ago, when I signed Mr. D up for his very first summer camp (rock climbing, in case it matters), I assumed that it would start at the same time as Miss O’s. For his age group 3-5, the camp ends at noon. Miss O’s older group goes until 3pm. But certainly they’d start all the groups at 9am, right?

When I took a closer look before the camp started this week, I discovered Mr. D’s doesn’t start until 9:30am. When I realized that detail, I started inwardly groaning about the inconvenience.

But just briefly. Because in the last dozen years, I adopted a shift that has made an immense difference to my happiness. I started assuming that “it” is for the best. That whatever is irritating me is just an opportunity opening that I can’t yet see. Or that I may never totally understand because it’s above my pay grade.

This has a Biblical basis (Romans 8:28), and a Buddhist basis, but I don’t think it requires a particular spiritual tradition. It’s just an act of staying open to the possibility that there’s a perspective that I can’t yet see.

For anyone that is thinking this sounds Pollyana-ish, I get it. But this change came from the darkest days of my life when I was stuck in all the feelings of failure after my divorce and clueless about what I was going to do next.

So many things came from that vulnerable time in the dark: my meditation practice and faith, the conversations with my father, my two beautiful children, my writing. And also this idea that I should stop doubling-down on irritation and instead stay present for whatever is unfolding.

It’s easier to do this for things like camp drop-offs. In this case, the payoff came almost instantly. Of course, it was beneficial to have Mr. D’s camp start a half hour later. He got to see his sister get dropped off, and then have some time warming up on his own.

 It gets harder when the kids are sick and I have to cancel my hair appointment. Or the babysitter cancels and I can’t go out with my friends.

So, I practice with the small irritations – believing that it’ll be alright in the end. And if it’s not alright, it’s not the end.

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: August 10

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“Sunsets are proof that no matter what happens, every day can end beautifully.” – Kristen Butler

This crow has been honing his ability to pick up bread crusts all week. He picks up one, two, three, four, then drops one. It seems he’s figured out that three is his limit and then he carries them away. The bunny has nothing to do with the process but he’s in the yard looking cute.

We are still on vacation. Nonetheless, there is a lot of productivity and creativity going on.

We’ve spent a little time paddleboarding every day this week. I’m not sure what’s going on in the third picture – but the water is pretty cold so perhaps Miss O is tell Mr. D to get out!

Beach time, pool time and son shine!

My kids have been finding me the most beautiful tiny shells on the beach. They get down low and bring back tiny treasures like miniscule shells, a sand dollar smaller than a dime, and scalloped shells smaller than my pinky fingernail. The shells are so tiny that it’s almost impossible to take a clear picture of them. The more that I ooh-and-aah, the more that they bring me. It’s so fun – just like the sign of the week.

Creating Space

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“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.” – Albert Einstein

When I packed up my car to go on vacation with my family last week, it was so heavily loaded that there was no floor space visible. The cereal boxes were under Mr. D’s feet and came out a little dented. I hauled the organic milk the kids drink because it is so much more expensive on the island. I even brought our own snuggly blankets because the ones at the cabin are 40 years old and scratchy.

What happened to the days when I could travel with just a toothbrush and passport?

Not claiming that I ever did go THAT light. Especially climbing trips came with duffel bags of gear. But it felt like I could.

To make this even sillier, this vacation was just going 90 minutes from home and on an island that’s the 4th biggest in the US. To put it all in perspective about how close to commerce we are, even when on vacation, there’s a Chinese restaurant 10 minutes from where we stay.

But still I loaded up the car. Even with all that brought, it wasn’t long before I realized that I forgot to bring my favorite tea. A blueberry green tea by Yogi that is pretty hard to find.

As I was lamenting the tea I forgot, I was chagrined to remember that I only discovered this tea because I was on a business trip last year and didn’t have my usual.

Sheesh, I wonder how many times I will have to learn that when we leave space – by breaking from habit or routine or just doing something differently – it creates room for discovery.

Upward Spirals

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“Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.” – William Arthur Ward

This was first published on 8/17/2022. I’ve been slowly moving some things I’ve published on other blogs to this one and it’s a great reflective practice for me to remember all the things that touched my heart two years ago – and still do now! Thank you for your patience as I consolidate things if you already read this.

As I was writing my post Good Mood of the Soul, I came across the research that joy and gratitude often result in an upward spiral. The more we focus on gratitude, the easier it is to perceive joy. And when in the midst of joy, we are more open to gratitude.

So here’s the list of things I’m grateful for this week:

For everyone that is willing to read why I am grateful for

That I can still hear the Click and Clack, the Car Talk brothers in the Cars movies.

The quiet way my three-year-old son says, “you are my best mom friend” to me so that I have to lean down to hear. In that position it goes directly from my ear to my heart.

That we have the ability to take pictures with our hearts.

The way it sounds when my daughter says, “I’m thankful for the tooth fairy.” while missing her two front teeth.

For out-of-the blue notes from individuals I admire telling me something I’ve done right.

That I’ve been able to learn, to some degree, how to fix the things that I’ve done wrong.

That broken eggs make food, literal and metaphorical.

For whoever invented yoga pants and made messy hair look sexy, at least on the West Coast. And if that was only in the 90’s and is no longer a thing, for anyone that continues to let me think that.

Speaking of inventions, whoever invented self-sealing water balloons that fill 20 at a time.

That life keeps giving me opportunities to learn that suffering just softens me up for the next great thing.

For every grown-up that showed me what vulnerability looked like when I was a kid.

For every grown-up that shows me what vulnerability is when I’m a grown-up.

For this necklace I bought on a whim and have worn for 20 years that says, “Strength is having a grateful life” and that I have grown into knowing what that means.

Cool sheets on a hot night.

That I have a bed to sleep in.

Green tea on dark mornings.

That connect-the-dots works in art and in life.

For the human traits of kindness, courage and generosity.

For the Divine traits of grace, faith, hope and love.

For the times I’ve been on my knees needing loyalty, courage, generosity, grace, faith, hope and love – and that what I’ve received in those moments has opened me up to knowing what those traits are in my bones.

I am grateful for upward spirals.

What are you grateful for this week? What have you learned about upward spirals?

(featured photo from Pexels)

There’s Magic In the Air

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“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” – Lao Tzu

I’ve told the story so many times. How I finished the preparations to get pregnant via IVF on a Thursday and then my 79-year-old dad died suddenly in a bike accident the very next day. I spent the next nine months in this dance between birth and death writing a book about my dad while I waited for my daughter to arrive.

And that would be the end of it. I’m not excessively morbid (I don’t think). I miss my beloved dad but there’s a lot of life in the here and now. I’ve said my goodbyes to him and feel at peace with the loss. So there’s no reason to keep talking about it EXCEPT…

Except things keep happening to bring my daughter and my dad close. Some of it comes from the stories I tell and my kids’ questions about him. Some of it is the delightful part of having my mom alive and a lovely and longstanding community around us. But there’s also a little magic in the air and the invitations that we get that makes my dad feel palpable.

So we share a little bit of that magic in this week’s episode of the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast. Vicki Atkinson and I are with my almost nine-year-old daughter, Miss O.

Miss O recently sang an acapella solo at the church that my dad used to lead. Listening to her pure, soprano voice while sitting in a sanctuary where I often feel the presence of him (and Him) surrounding me, brought me to tears.

So she generously sings a bit of what she sang and tells us how she prepared to sing this not once, but twice. Miss O reminds us that people are pulling for us when we step up and are brave.

Then she brings all the other elements that go in to stepping up – practice, preparation, nerves and excitement.

This is a wonderful episode from a young girl who feels and celebrates the generational pull of family and is willing to share her a bit of herself to honor that tie to those that have gone before.

I’m certain you’ll enjoy the scenic and beautiful places we go when we share the power of story… and song.

We know you’ll love it!

P.S. Miss O ends the podcast with a sweet rendition of You Are My Sunshine to celebrate those of you who listen all the way through.

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor: Episode 77: Singing to the Heavens with Miss O

AND subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Other Episodes with Miss O

Episode 45: Third Grade Writing Wisdom with Miss O

From the hosts:

Vicki’s personal blog: Victoria Ponders

Wynne’s personal blog: Surprised by Joy

Vicki’s recently released book: Surviving Sue

Wynne’s book about her beloved father: Finding My Father’s Faith

The Lottery of Life

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“Some people are born on third base and go through life thinking they hit a triple.” – Barry Switzer

My friend, Eric (from the recent On The Bus podcast), and I recently made a lottery ticket pact. Neither of us usually buys lottery tickets. But we saw a condo for sale at the place we like to go to on Whidbey Island. We can’t afford it, so we decided to buy a PowerBall ticket and if we won, we’d buy it.

I know, a silly idea all around. But the funny thing was that once we’d bought the ticket, I was beset by the idea that I didn’t want to win the lottery because I wanted to earn what I have in life.

Following this stream of consciousness made me realize how many “lotteries” I’ve already won in life.

Being raised by an incredibly smart mom who told me I could be whatever I wanted as long as I was willing to put in the effort.

Having a loving dad that did the work to follow the example of Jesus to love and accept everyone.

Living at a time when women can get credit, buy houses, and use IVF to have children.

Benefitting from mentors who were willing to help me discern what is important, how to navigate adversity, and retain integrity.

Having technical skills at a time when personal computers, the Internet, and mobile technology emerged.

Being blessed with kids that were healthy when they were born and being able to afford good health care for me and my children to help keep us well.

Living in the Pacific Northwest where there are mountains to climb, beaches to comb, and summer weather so nice that most people just want to stay near home. At least for these five months.

Having incredible friends who have walked alongside me for ups, downs, and adventures.

And the list goes on and on. It makes me realize how much my independence and sense of earning is a tenuous construct. It reminds me to balance my dreams with not just what I want and need, but what I can give in thanks.

Or, to put it briefly in a phrase I learned from Dr. Gerald Stein: Tikkun Olam – repair the world.

A Piece of Advice

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“I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.” – Oscar Wilde

This was originally published on 5/18/2022. Heads up – you may have already read this.

“Enjoy this time, it goes so fast” is the single most repeated piece of parenting advice that I’ve heard since having kids. Since I chose to become a single mom at an older age than my friends, having my kids at age 46 and 50, I hear it both from my peers and the older generations which makes it bear even more weight for me.

My kids are now 2-years-old and 6-years-old – there are a lot of parenting years I have not yet covered. But in the phase of parenting I’m now in, there are very many life skills my kids haven’t mastered both in terms of basic care and feeding and also regulating the emotional ups and downs of life. It’s a very physical job that takes a lot of patience. But while I’m needed often for kissing boo-boos, the beauty of this phase is that my kids’ problems are small and my kiss can fix almost anything that happens to them.

Breaking the advice down and applying it to where I’m at: “Enjoy this time.”

Enjoy this time which means enjoy this phase that’s a lot of work and is full of ups and downs. Enjoy this time which means celebrating it even when my shoulders are heavy with the responsibility and worry for this family. Enjoy this time which means treasuring every drop of this intimate closeness even when it’s full of sticky, raw emotion both positive and negative. Enjoy this time which means cherishing the weeks when it’s completely impossible to complete my personal tasks and create a stable experience for my kids when they are sick, the world is sick, or even when I’m sick.

And then “it goes so fast.”

It goes so fast implies that if I look away for a second, it will change to something else. It goes so fast means that time is ticking even when it’s not fun. It goes so fast tells me that if I’m dreaming of a moment in which I can have a routine that isn’t so urgently tied to others’ needs, I will miss something unfolding in the life of today.

And back together, “Enjoy this time, it goes so fast.”

Enjoy this time, it goes so fast tells me to savor what I have. Enjoy this time, it goes so fast implies a richness to the mess of a life I have now. Enjoy this time, it goes so fast means that this is the heart of life experience beating right now.

Now that I break it down “enjoy this time, it goes so fast” doesn’t seem specific at all to parenting. Perhaps we all need this reminder to touch this moment we are in.

(featured photo is mine of me and my kids, at age 2 and 6)