Tag: parenting

You Have to be Present to Win

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“I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart.” – Vincent Van Gough

When my nieces were in middle school, they went to a charter school that had a lot of fundraising events. At one auction event they invited me to, the older of my two niece’s was selling raffle tickets that were $50 each. That was really expensive but I didn’t have kids at the time, it was for a school and of course, it was my niece selling them so I bought two. The clincher was that, as if often the case with raffles, you had to be present to win.

I think of that phrase a lot in parenting – you have to be present to win. When I bought the raffle tickets I knew I’d never make it to when the raffle was announced, I wasn’t the type of person to stay long enough even before I had kids. Now I don’t have any choice but to see to the end of each day with my kids but I can choose whether or not to be present.

I know that I must not the only parent that takes an extra long time to roll the garbage can to the curb because I’m pausing in the quiet and looking up at the sky. My central nervous system gets overloaded from the activity, amplitude of emotion and state of vigilance so it feels like I can’t stay present one more moment. I just want to check out because I’m spent. My daughter is a master of asking open-ended questions right before bedtime like “What mistakes have you made, Mama?” so my strategy is to just keep things simple with one or two word sentences so I can get to the finish line. But the other night, while I was racing to the end of the day so I could have some grown-up time where I could check out by having a glass of wine or mindlessly scroll through Instagram, something reminded me of “you have to be present to win.”

My daughter was snuggled next to me in bed as I was reading Harry Potter and it was a section where Hagrid was saying that his dad taught him not to be ashamed of who he was and she asked what ashamed was. I explained it’s that feeling of not wanting to talk about something because it makes you feel yucky inside. And she said, “Like Ahti [her aunt that used to nanny for us] taking a job and not being with us any more?”

[Wow, wow, wow] I told her that I was so proud of her for telling me that she felt that way. Then she asked why Ahti had to do it and I explained that it was because she found a perfect job. And she said, “It isn’t because we were too bad and she didn’t want to be with us?”

There are moments when I absolutely need to check out and breathe and I’m trying to learn to give myself grace when I do. But I’m also trying to practice staying present so that when I’m with my kids, I’m truly with my kids. Because unlike when I bought a raffle ticket for my niece’s school, I do care about winning the prize. Not two hours with a lawyer to do estate planning or a wine tasting with five friends, but to be the person my kids trust to help them unpack the burdens they don’t need to carry.

An Act of Bravery

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“It always seems impossible until it is done.” – Nelson Mandela

This week my almost 6-year-old daughter suggested that we ride bikes to pick up my son from daycare. So last night we did. It’s only about a mile by bike and she is pretty steady on hers. We left with me in the lead and she was following. The first part is slightly downhill in a bike lane on a busy road and we had only gone five blocks when all of a sudden I couldn’t see her behind me. The road curved so I could only see a half block back but she didn’t appear. Then a man in a truck said, “Are you looking for a little girl? She’s way back there.” My heart in my chest, I looped around to find my daughter a block back, up on the sidewalk silently crying. A car had come, maybe turning, it spooked her so she got herself up on the curb and resolved to wait for me.

The rest of the way we changed it so she led and I followed talking to her the whole way. When we got to the daycare, it’s a half a block of steep uphill so I told her we’d walk our bikes but she said, “I can do it, Mama!” and zoomed herself up the hill and right up to the door. On the way back, she started to relax into it so much that she was weaving between cones on a closed section of road.

The whole adventure reminded me how brave we are to live a day of this life. We get up, set our sights on something we are going to do, people we are going to meet or work we have to finish. Then we start on our way only to discover we are scared or confused and need a minute. Whether we continue or not probably depends on the voice we hear in our head. And for us adults, this all happens without us thinking about it. We have forgotten how brave it is to meet the day because we’ve done it so many times before. But it doesn’t make us any less brave.

Watching my daughter when we finally pulled back into the garage with my toddler, she stripped off her top and cheered. She did it! She transported her 45 pounds of bones, muscle and grit a mile and back on a two-wheeled vehicle and moved through time, space and her own doubts. By God, she did it. May we all remember to cheer our bravery as we tackle things today.

Dinner for Two

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“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize that they were the big things.” – Robert Brault

Last night was a perfect evening out on my back patio. It was sunny, not too hot with a delightful little breeze. So I decided to BBQ myself a steak and eat outside. This was an unusual amount of effort to cook for myself. Usually I prepare something for my kids and if I haven’t invited another adult to come over and eat with us, I eat what I’ve prepared for them or leftover. I enjoy cooking but since my almost 6-year-old daughter has a particular palate and my almost 2-year-old son still prefers eating those pouches that contain pureed fruits, vegetables and grains that he can suck down himself, cooking for myself doesn’t usually seem worth it. But last night I thought I’d make an exception and BBQ.

I went out to check the steak halfway through and the BBQ was no longer on. I assumed it had run out of propane until I noticed that all the dials were off. My littlest assistant chef must have come by to adjust the temperature.

Eventually I managed to cook the steak, so I set the table with a place for my son and myself (my daughter was busy inside) and sat down in the perfect evening to eat. I had just finished making the first cut when my son hopped out of his chair and came to sit on my lap. We proceeded to tussle over who could hold the knife and since I won, he decided that he’d control dragging my perfectly grilled piece of bread through my plate. In this way, we made it through dinner, talking about the flavors and the weather, finding a place for the halfway eaten food that came back out of his mouth and stretching now and again to reach the off-limits-to-him knife.

I can’t tell whether this means I’m doing parenting right or wrong. After going through the special effort to cook something for myself, am I supposed to maintain my dignity of being able to eat it without dealing with someone else’s regurgitated food? On the other hand, it was an intimate dining experience, one that he’ll soon outgrow and then I assume that I’ll still share with him at a distance but we won’t be literally eating the same food.

As with much of parenting, I suspect that there isn’t a clear line to draw here. So I fall back to what I know in the moment. There will be plenty of steaks in my future so what I need to savor is the feeling of dinner with a handsome young man who can’t get enough of me.

The Practice

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“One filled with joy preaches without preaching.” – Mother Teresa

My mom’s church has been doing these Wednesday night park programs for kids. It’s a little like Sunday School where there’s singing, a short message, some games and then Otter Pops at the end. You come with your family and can picnic there and then all participate in this hour of fun. It’s been lovely and my kids have loved it – it’s a fun way to return to being together. One of the songs we’ve been singing has gotten stuck in my head:

I’m inright, outright, upright, downright
Happy all the time
I’m inright, outright, upright, downright
Happy all the time
Since Jesus Christ came in, and saved my soul from sin
I’m inright, outright, upright, downright
Happy all the time

So as it’s been running that circular loop, I’ve realized that as a Presbyterian minister’s kid, this was exactly the messaging I grew up with. Jesus Christ = happy. And there’s a lot more of those kid songs with a similar message (like When You’re Happy and You Know It). I’m a pretty naturally happy person so there was no inherent conflict there as I grew up. But now, as I’ve pondered why I can’t just be a traditional church-going person, I wonder if I just outgrew that message as life got more complex and had to find my own practice. For me that has become listening to the quiet within every day on a meditation cushion. I also love a great sermon in church or fun in the park finding community but it’s the personal practice I always come back to.

It reminds me of the dance of falling in love. We lead with the message that we think is going to make us most attractive – that we are happy, successful, strong or sexy. But any relationship that goes the distance exposes all the facets of who we are. In that same way, religion (in my experience) uses happy, fun songs to get kids to listen and then for it to take root, they need to incorporate the message into the depth of what they believe. In this way both love and faith are a practice, not just a belief.

This ear worm of a song is leading me to realize that I want to support my kids in the incorporation of what we believe. To practice seeing that in the beautiful mystery of life and time as humans, we get to celebrate being here every day. And that God, in whatever way we conceive of him, is in each part of this experience whether we label it as happy or not.

The Process

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“Inspiration usually comes during work, rather than before it.” – Madeleine L’Engle

Last summer I decided to paint the exterior of my house. Not knowing if I could really do it, I just thought I’d start with the south facing side that needed it the most. I was not changing the color so I told myself I could at the very least try and if I couldn’t do it, formulate a different plan. I purchased the supplies, pulled out my 20 foot ladder, started with the roller with an extension and tried to get the highest boards above my back patio. I must have gone up and down that ladder 20 times in the first few boards – changing where I put the paint, putting on different shoes, remembering the paint rag, taking off the roller extension, putting it back on. I was shaky at first but kept adapting the system until I got into a rhythm. The process reminded me of so much of Madeleine L’Engle’s quote.

It happens to me every time I write. I know that any blogger that reads this will relate. I sit down to do it and what comes out is usually different than what I thought I was writing. Something happens in the middle that as I write, it’s changing me and I’m changing where I’m going and how I think. It’s funny how thinking about doing it and actually doing it are two very different things.

And parenting – I wrote that post about how I joked before I had kids that I was going to run a family like I was a referee and I could use calls from any sport I could think of. Which was a little in jest but telling for how I thought parenting calls would be easy to make. I know both my style and how I feel about it have changed with the first and again with the second child. It’s not until you are elbow deep in diapers that the epiphanies come – about love, messiness and vulnerability.

I find out over and over again that the key with all these life endeavors is starting. Because waiting until it’s all wrapped up in a bow in my mind is never how it is finished. It’s a messy process of participating in the creation and unfolding of life. It’s jumping in and trying something and discovering something in the trying. It feels like I learn and relearn this. Every time I jump into a new venture, I think it’s going to be perfect at the start. It never is and then I have to adjust my thinking to remember that isn’t failure, it’s the process.

When I started painting the house, I thought I’d just do the most weathered boards. After all, it was a silly thing to do when I had no time because of kids and work. But I found it to be so satisfying to see the house change that over the next few weeks, I moved on to do almost off of the house except the highest portions. My mom thought it was such a great idea that she came over to help too! Inspiration usually comes during the work, rather than before it.

Truth Telling

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“Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.” – Thomas Jefferson

The other night we were with a family from school and the dad started to tell a story and then turned to his 4-year-old son and said, “James, can I tell a story about you?”

Such a sweet moment of respect and communication. It started me ruminating about how it gets more complicated to tell the truth as our lives get more intertwined. I try to be careful not to tell stories about my kids that I think they would mind reading 10 years or more from now but of course that’s a judgment call.

It reminds me of a story I heard the other day about a friend of a friend. On the outside, everything looks perfect – she’s attractive, healthy, has plenty of money, married with two grown kids, has a cute new puppy. But she’s unhappy, mostly because her marriage isn’t working for her. Nothing is egregiously wrong but her husband is busy with his work and friends and so he’s not interested in making a vital relationship. So she’s working on taking on new things – most recently writing. And here’s where I’ve imagined it lands –if she tells the truth, it’ll crack her life apart.

Of course this resonates for me because it was me 13 or 14 years ago when I was married. Everything looked fine from the outside of my life but on the inside I was starving. I had a husband, who as my dad gently put it after we divorced, “Loved to be loved.” The core of me was stifled into silence because it knew that if I spoke up and said I wanted more depth and meaning than just taking care of my husband it would be the beginning of the end of that relationship. I drank a lot of wine at the end of each day. Numbing was the only thing I could do to stay and not tell the truth.

I know I’m in trouble when I have to stuff down what I know to be true in order to do something. Having gone through it in my marriage, the moment I get a whiff of a situation that can’t withstand the sincerity of living out loud, it screams DANGER to me. When I write or say the small things that I haven’t dared to acknowledge outside myself before but I know are real, it feels vital and like a bridge to others that will hold up because it’s true.

So where does that leave my family? I think like the father the other night, asking to tell a story is a pretty good idea. And the story the dad told was about sitting in a car with his four-year-old, not paying attention to him because he was doing something on his phone. Finally he realized that his son, who he didn’t know could read, was saying, “It says ‘Pizza Bar.’” Hearing that story reminded me not only to ask my kids if I can tell a story but also to remember that they have learned to read or soon will. My truth needs to be told without risking anyone else’s.

The Ups and the Downs

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“To lose balance, sometimes, for love, is part of living a balanced life.” – Elizabeth Gilbert

On Monday my son had a terrible day, he was still not feeling well from a bug he picked up at the beach. But my daughter had a fantastic day going to a camp hosted by her teacher from last year laughing and playing with all the classmates that she didn’t get enough time together in-person with this school year. I felt like I usually do, a fulcrum, trying to balance between the two or more often, being tipped to the side of the lowest mood. As I wondered to myself how to harden my heart so as not to be influenced by the state of my loved ones, I laughed out loud at my query. Harden my heart?

My perception is that when I’m alone, I float along pretty evenly in a mostly happy state. Even if that isn’t an accurate reflection of life alone, a time I can barely remember being that it’s been almost six years since that’s been the case, life without any ups and downs had no markers by which I can tag one way or the other. Going along evenly means I can’t really recall anything momentous. But now, with the ups and downs of my kids affecting me deeply, I am so grateful for an easy and happy hour. I also remember them –like the morning this week when we were all on my bed and the kids taking turns falling over, bouncing so hard on the mattress that they popped almost halfway back up and laughing at each other. The tumult of this time with my little family all riding the waves in one boat means that I’m constantly being drawn back to this moment and the feeling of now.

When I sit on my cushion and try to meditate, the practice is to continually bring myself back to the current moment, to bring awareness to now, to stop the mind from perseverating on the constant lists of what else to do and where else to be. Over and over I do this and then try to lean into whatever I’m feeling, good or bad until those distinctions melt away. The practice deepens the awareness of what I’m experiencing right now but loosens the attachments that I place on whether I like it or not. In some ways, parenting is calling me to do the same practice. Show up in this moment, lean in to whatever the feeling is and let go of any judgment of whether I like it or not. In other words, my kids are making me a spiritual guru!

But I still daydream of the easy days when it was just me and my dog bouncing along on that every-present golden retriever enthusiasm. Even then I remember the racking grief that came at the end of his beautiful life. There are no ups without downs. I’m not going to harden my heart because that means missing the ups. It’s a messy life now but I love it.

Becoming Real

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“I am still in the process of growing up, but I will make no progress if I lose any of myself along the way.” – Madeleine L’Engle

My nanny sees the same massage therapist, Deirdre, as I do and as does my sister-in-law who used to nanny for me. The other day Deirdre told my nanny that she can feel the side that each of us carries my baby on. Because of course he isn’t a baby any more, he’ll be two this month and he’s 30+ pound bundle of love. So we contort our bodies to accommodate his weight and motion, cook one-handed and endlessly stoop to pick things up off the floor twisting to use one arm while balancing his heft with the other. Even when I’m pushing the baby in the stroller, I sometimes find myself on situations where I carry my daughter on my shoulders and hold a door open with my foot to get the stroller through. Then we schedule an appointment with Deirdre to help us put our bodies back together.

I’m happy to contort myself for my children. That feels like part of the process of extending myself to help them grow. But it makes me think the ways that I’ve contorted myself in relationships. Because carving my work and enjoyment time out of the space after I’ve made sure everyone else is taken care of and living in a house where projects don’t get finished and supplies are spread all over sounds like what comes with the parenting territory but also describes what I’ve previously done for some the men in my life.

With kids, this is tolerable because I know they’ll change. And even if they don’t learn how to pick up after themselves, one day they will not live with me, or so I hope. But when I think back the relationships I’ve had, I think I’ve often contorted myself because I’ve been unwilling to say, “I can’t live like this.” And if I dig really deep, I have to admit that don’t say that because I believe that love requires women to not ask for what they need and to instead just be grateful for what they have.

But I am starting to reshape that belief. Because when I play a role, I don’t feel seen as me. Then I require time away so I can take the role off and need people like Deirdre to restore me. I’m coming to see I only have endurance for life that is authentic and that is changing how I show up. I’ve come to see being real as part of having faith that others will truly love me if I do the hard work to let them.

What I’m learning is that there are a hundred little ways to practice saying what I need so that I can change alongside my kids. “Clothes” is sometimes all I have to utter to remind my daughter to pick up the outfit she just took off and threw on the ground instead of doing it myself. “Not now” buys me a rest from exertion when my body is just too tired. And “I’d like” is a great preface to naming what I want to do for fun. The repetition is necessary for both me and for them. I’ve been able to see how I can be optimistic, warm and loving AND real. I’m finding that I have a lot of opportunities to practice being grateful for what I have — and also asking for what I need.

The Great Turnaround

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“If you want to lift yourself up, lift up someone else.” – Booker T. Washington

The other night we were eating dinner outside and my five-and-half-year-old daughter was feeling discontent. She didn’t like what we were eating, she didn’t like the chair she was sitting in, nothing wasn’t quite right with her and I don’t think she could name the source. Then the ice cream truck came and she asked if she could get some. I said she could if she handled the transaction and used her own money. She asked $20? And I said, “No, $4” which still seems like a ridiculous price to me.

She went inside, found everything she needed: wallet, mask and shoes and for the very first time, handled the ice cream truck transaction all by herself. It was just on the other side of the fence from where I sat so I could hear the tenor of what was going on, if not the details, and I knew my neighbor was there to help her if she needed it.

Soon enough she came back…with two popsicles. She had chosen to get one for her brother. The ice cream man told her she needed to pay $4 more and she debated about the big spend but decided that her most beloved brother was worth it.

The transformation of her mood was the most remarkable thing. She felt confident and generous. It was like watching a drooping flower stand back up and shine again. She told the story with all the details multiple times and just radiated!

It was a beautiful lesson for me. That we are all better when we are giving. And that to turn things around in a day, it just takes one moment of choosing to do something gracious and it will lift up everyone around. When her brother couldn’t finish his popsicle and gave it back to her to finish, it was easy to see that the spirit of giving had turned into the spirit of giving back.

Looking and Finding

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“People miss that all prayers are heard. But sometimes the answer is no.” – Pastor John Gray

The other day I was packing a lunch for my daughter and she was wandering around looking for her sunglasses. I wasn’t paying much attention to her search knowing that whether or not she found them, she wouldn’t likely wear them for more than a couple of minutes making the whole venture a little pointless. I asked a couple of mom questions like “where did you last see them?” and “have you packed everything else you need?” but mostly just listened to her narrative as she did a lot of talking and not much looking. Exasperated, she said in her most plaintive tone, “Why are you NOT helping me?”

It struck a chord in me. It is the tone that I hear inside my head when I want something specific and I think God isn’t helping me. Why are you NOT helping me? It’s funny the moments I have watching a scene with someone else that resonates with my own questions. It’s the lived experience coming full circle to help me find an answer to something I’ve pondered or struggled with.

In this case as I regarded my daughter’s question, I realized two things about when I whine to God. First of all, I’m probably asking or wanting something that God doesn’t think is important. I remember being about my daughter’s age when my beloved older brother would tease me by holding something in the air out of my reach. I’d jump and climb and claw and scratch to get up there but because he was six years older, he could always keep it from me. It worked as long as I continued to be fixated on whatever was held in the air when the reality was that all I really wanted was my brother’s attention. As in the case with me now, I struggle because I’m not getting something that I want and the struggle is the key part of the learning, not the getting.

The second thing that occurred to me in the “Why are you NOT helping me?” moment was the component of individual responsibility. My daughter’s quest to find her sunglasses wouldn’t even be a thing if she put them back where they belong. As it relates to me, I spin and get frustrated when I lose my center. The solution is always to quiet down and find that sacred still spot within myself. In the moment when I’m spinning out worrying about what next summer will be like because I won’t have the nanny I have now and imagining what that’ll feel like if I have to take the job as daily entertainment director on top of everything else…I just have to stop. Peace is only findable when I seek it, not the other things I’m trying to control.

Seeing myself in my daughter’s whine, I felt so much empathy for her struggle. I put down what I was doing, took a hold of her hand so she’d know I was with her and helped her find a hat which could work instead of the sunglasses. And miracle of miracles, we found the sunglasses on a bench in the garage as we went to leave the house.