Tag: parenting

The Most Important Work

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“Children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work.” – C. S. Lewis

Sometimes I think Hallmark has it backwards. Take Mother’s Day for example. My kids didn’t do anything to choose me. I, on the other hand, took a very intentional path to become a mom.

From the realization that I wanted to have kids later in life because I cried whenever I saw Princess Kate pregnant with her oldest child nine years ago, to deciding to do it without a partner (for now), then through IVF three times (I had one miscarriage), I made very deliberate choices to parenthood. I couldn’t be more grateful that I’m a mom.

Here’s the top three reasons why:

I’m so much healthier

You didn’t know me before I had kids. I didn’t write in the period of life when I was numbing my feelings with wine every night. Meditation changed that pattern so that I had a different way to irrigate my irritations.

But having kids has given me so much more practice. That’s a funny sentence. I didn’t mean that they give me many more irritations to irrigate but on some days that’s true too.

Mostly I meant that these beautiful and honest beings have shown me what emotional honesty is. By helping them name their emotions, I’ve learned how to name and feel mine too.

Every day is an adventure

I’m a creature of habit. Without kids, I’d have likely continued my pattern – hike every Saturday, do a big trip every two years. Like my trips to Everest Base Camp, climbing the Via Ferrata routes in the Dolomites, or biking from Vermont to Canada to New York – great trips that totaled about two weeks out of every 104.

But with kids – every day is an adventure of curiosity and learning. We rescue bunnies, dig in the dirt, ride bikes, or sell lemonade. I’m learning to be flexible and adventurous on a daily basis instead of a bi-annual one.

Big messy love

Parenting is the messiest form of love I’ve known. Not just sticky hands and faces but so much laundry, picking up detritus, territorial incursions because of changing boundaries, and spilled over spats between siblings.

But it seems to me, that the messiness that makes it stick like Velcro instead of slide off like a glossy surface. It’s proof that nobody is perfect any we love each other anyway. The repetitiveness reminds me how many chances we have to get it right. Over and over we make a mess. And over and over we get to come together and make it right.

The news has all sorts of stories about what isn’t working in this world. But then a day like Mother’s Day comes around and I look at all the people who are trying their best to love wholeheartedly – with young kids, and old kids, and/or other people’s kids. For me it’s a celebration that love wins.

Thank Goodness It’s Monday

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“If we want stability in our family, society, nation, and the world, we need to create stability in individual human beings.” – Sadhguru

This weekend I:

  • Walked a half marathon (27k steps over 2 ½ days)
  • Celebrated the achievements of this youngest generation of scientists and explorers (took my kids to a 5 year old birthday party and set up marble tracks, cheered for kids figuring out how to slide fast and slow, )
  • Practiced medicine (2 boo-boos, and tummy ache)
  • Work to help prevent disease and disorganization (did 5 loads of laundry, supervised young hands wiping down counters and sinks, changed the sheets, mowed the lawn, organized a utility closet, and did at least 1000 dishes)
  • Exercised hearts and minds (played 2 games of family soccer, reenacted light saber scenes, played Chinese checkers, read a half a dozen books aloud, and told a dozen stories, played at least a dozen rounds of keep away with Cooper the dog)
  • Fed the hungry (prepared seven meals, a bazillion snacks, five meals for the dog, three meals for the cat)
  • Coached positive techniques for conflict resolution and expressing healthy boundaries (settled at least a half dozen power struggles and fits of big emotion)

No, I’m not aiming to do a victory lap here (for one thing I’m too tired 🙂 ). But my weekend reminds me that:

  1. We don’t give caretakers nearly enough credit for the amount of energy and skill it takes to keep other beings alive.
  2. I’m a much better parent because I work. The dozen things I need to get done at work on Monday seem like child’s play… compared to a weekend of playing with children.
  3.  Kids and pets reflect the care they get…and so do caregivers. None of it is possible unless caregivers fill up their tank.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Extending One’s Self For Love

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“I define love thus: The will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.” – Dr. M. Scott Peck

I was telling my dear friend, Katie, the story of traveling home from New Orleans with my kids a few weeks ago. Miss O and I checked out bags. Then Miss O pointed out to Mr. D the really cool way our bags were traveling down the conveyer belt.

Mr. D wanted to check his bag then too. “No, “ I insisted. “That costs $30.” Which is a stupid argument to make to a four-year-old. So we sat down on the floor or the airport to have a family meeting. When nothing I was saying was working, I finally said, “Mr. D, I’ll give you $5 to NOT put your bag on the conveyer belt.”

Deal!

And then he gave me the $5 back about two minutes later.

Katie responded that I was a nice parent. Which made me think. I’m not sure if I approach it this way because I was raised in the era of “behave well – we don’t care what you feel” so I’m doing the opposite. Or out of necessity because most of the time I’m outnumbered. In this case, I simply didn’t have the strength or number of hands necessary to carry my backpack and a screaming kid through the airport.

But I’d also say that parenting has changed me. Now I’m really interested in helping little people through their emotions. In my negotiations, the answer never changes – my kids still have to go to school, not check their bags, and respect bedtimes. But I’m happy to work through how they feel about it.

Like when after three years of having no problems at pre-school drop-off, Mr. D started balking at the door. There have been lots of personnel changes and that seems to be the root of the reluctance.

I tried just leaving. I tried making deals. I tried going to Starbucks to talk about it. I tried using little plastic people to act out why.

And then I landed on riding bikes to school. Miraculously, it worked. It made it so that he didn’t have any problem going to school and his entire day was better. Then I started playing with the how. Driving eight-year-old Miss O to school so she didn’t have to ride every day. Then running alongside Mr. D as he rode his training wheel bike.

I’ve adjusted the length and we’ve tried scootering instead of biking. Even a .4 mile scoot works.

Sure, I’m showing up at work sweaty and late from running alongside and then back to the car again. I needed more exercise anyway. And it works. It changes his whole day because we’ve figured out how to move the energy that was blocking him.

Dr. Peck’s definition of love at the top of this post resonates with me. There are so many ways that people extend themselves in love. Working through feelings happens to be mine for this phase of life, born out of necessity and time. It’s had extended benefits in the patience I have for other areas as well – work, friendship, and pet ownership.

Here’s to everyone doing the hard work of love in whatever way works for them.

Failing Well

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“Take chances, make mistakes. That’s how you grow. Pain nourishes your courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave.” – Mary Tyler Moore

Last weekend when we were in Leavenworth, WA, we went to an adventure park to ride a roller coaster. Or maybe I should say a roller-coaster-ish kind of ride because the cars were individual and the driver could apply the brakes as much as they wanted. Another clarification: by “we” I meant my kids rode with my dear friend, Doug, because I’m an endurance person, not a speed person.

Now that I have all those caveats in place, on with the story.

Eight-year-old Miss O had no hesitation and climbed right in to ride with Doug. Talking with four-year-old Mr. D about it, he was clearly torn. He didn’t want to do it. And then he did. He flip flopped a couple of times. Since I was pretty sure he’d like it, I was trying to figure out how to nudge him in the direction of trying it.

But even though Miss O didn’t hesitate on this challenge, she and I had just been having a conversation about failing when it came to learning to ride her hoverboard. She asserted that life was easier for me because I never failed. I told her I fail all the time which is why is doesn’t faze me much any more. In fact, I rarely think of it as failing but just as a step towards the next thing I need to do.

On the drive to Leavenworth, I’d been listening to the Ten Percent Happier podcast, The Science of Failing Well where Dan Harris was talking with Amy Edmonson, a professor of leadership and management at the Harvard Business School. She had three points that stuck with me about taking risks:

  • Make the risk as small as possible: This point reminded me of gambling – make a bet but don’t put all your chips in.
  • Have a hypothesis: Know what you are trying to test or prove
  • Learn from the attempt: Use the experience and hypothesis to extract information for the next thing you might try.

I think a lot about what creates confidence. What my parents did to create kids who are willing to try hard things because for all the differences between my siblings and me, we are all game to take on new challenges. So I’ve tried to figure out how I can do the same for my kids. While there’s much that remains a mystery to me, what I’ve identified is that my willingness to try and fail might be the single most defining characteristic in the arc of my life.

So, I told Mr. D he didn’t have to do it. But if he did, he only had to try one ride, Doug could go as slow as he wanted, and that I thought he’d like riding in a car on a track. When it came to his turn, Mr. D was a little nervous but resolutely game. Until I greeted him at the exit ramp, that is. He rolled back in with a huge grin on his face!

He had so much fun that he learned he wanted to do it again. And the second time he went up with his hands in the air.

Life is a roller coaster and I’m glad that I continue to ride. The metaphorical kind at least.

(featured photo is mine)

(quote is from Real Life of MSW blog: Being Brave)

The Detective’s Toolbox

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“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” – e.e. cummings

Mr. D hasn’t wanted to go to his pre-school lately. It’s been such a marked change that it’s evoked the inner detective in me trying to figure out why. Was it the week that the lead teacher went on vacation? Is there a shift in schedule or meals that is bugging him? Is there a particular classmate that he’s having trouble with?

At four-years-old, Mr. D doesn’t seem to have the answers to the questions. I say that like his age is the factor. I’m sure it is in part, but I think we all get stumped about what’s bugging us from time to time.

Yesterday, we’d just parked at the curb and were just sitting there collecting ourselves before we went in to school. Cooper, the dog, was in the front seat next to me. Mr. D from the back seat said, “Cooper is sad.” I asked why and he said, “Cooper is sad because he misses us.”

Oooh, my first break in the case.

So I tried two more things. At the end of the day, I asked Mr. D to tell me a story about school. He told me a story about John waiting in line for the roller coaster on the playground. Another student, Molly, gave John a look and it made him sad. So Mr. D went to play with John and it made John happy.

The second thing was to have him show me something he’d learned that day. They are studying the human body this week. In their study of the stomach and intestines, they put bread into plastic bags with soda water died green to mimic stomach acid.

We repeated the experiment at home so that he could teach his older sister and me. Yes, it’s really gross, but I took one for science’s sake. And giving Mr. D a chance to showcase a bit of how he spent his day made him feel proud of his learning.

Here’s what I noticed. That when we don’t know what’s wrong, we project it on to others like Cooper the dog. We also can get to it by telling stories or acting things out. I haven’t cracked the case entirely yet but I’ve started figuring out the toolset. A similar set of tools probably works for all of us.

Speaking of telling stories, Vicki and I talk with David from the Pinwheel in a Hurricane and unwanted blogs on the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast this week. It is a fantastic episode where David talks about doing story work to find clarity, integration, and healing. Check it out: Episode 53: Practicing Creativity with David

Things About Parenting I Think I’ve Learned So Far

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“You’re an author, and the stories you write are penned across the hearts of your children. Therefore, be careful with the pen because you’re writing on some very precious paper.” – Craig D. Lounsbrough

I’m riffing the title of this post from Jack Canfora’s Things I Think I’ve Learned So Far because Jack’s post is one of my favorites and I’m too tired from parenting to think of one of my own. And that matches with my experience of parenting – you have to take small favors and lifts when you can.

Admittedly, I’m pretty early on into this parenting thing with only eight and a half years so far. Despite the best efforts of my more experienced friends to teach me everything I might need to know, I still understand I have a lot to learn. But in the interest of celebrating incremental progress, here’s the list of things I think I’ve learned so far in parenting.

Dance parties improve almost any mood.

When little people behave their worst, it’s when they need to be listened to and held the most.

Sometimes, on “those” days, you just have to declare it’s Milkshakes for Breakfast Day to shake everything up.

Try to say “yes” as often as possible, even if it’s just a qualified “yes.”

No matter how hungry you are, don’t eat that last bite off their plate until its cleared from the table.

There’s a time to push limits, and there’s a time to fold them in your arms. Knowing that balance is as mysterious as the original recipe for KFC or Coke. It’s sweet when you get it right, but you will still be guessing the next time.

Laughter is a beautiful elixir that will hold you together.

Socks are the bane of parenting. Little teeny tiny socks exploded off little teeny tiny feet are under the car seats, smooshed in the couch cushions, on the counter, behind the toy box, folded into books, and left everywhere and anywhere except the laundry basket.

My efforts to lobby Amazon to create a sock subscription service where new socks are delivered regularly have been ignored to date, mostly because I can’t ever finish an email without interruption.

A little bit of sugar works as an enticement. A great deal of sugar works like an unstable explosive.

You can use power over someone with little or no agency and it might work short-term. But, when you can, spending the time to develop power with a willing mind has a big long-term payoff.

You will screw it up. Look for the manual that came with the babies and remember there isn’t one. Be grateful for however many days you have before they figure that out too.

Insistence on anything that you previously thought you was indisputable fact before you had kids quickly becomes debatable in their eyes.
If you resist, the resistance becomes an object to focus on.
Better to use redirection.

Curiosity beats judgment any day and is one of the best tools in the box.

The line between crying and laughing is much closer than previously thought.

This is also true for irritation and awe.

On the Welch’s fruit snacks, the tear spot is between the h and the s. You’re welcome.

Every time you thoughtfully respond to a melt down you get to put a marble in the metaphorical trust jar.
Every time you lose it and yell, you take out ten marbles from the trust jar.
Every time you apologize for losing it, you get to add back your ten marbles, with bonus marbles for sincerity.

Naps aren’t just for the five and unders.

A well-rested kid can do most anything – this is true for well-rested parents too.

Save money on sorting games and instead teach them to match socks. This is a theoretical one but it would have been brilliant if I’d thought of it earlier.

You will screw it up. Apply grace liberally, get a good night’s sleep and try it again.

“Your eyes should light up when your child enters the room.” – Maya Angelou
But there will be times they will enter the room covered in paint or dressed in all the contents of the laundry basket that you, for once, managed to fold. So shoot for lit up eyes MOST of the time.

It’s fun when you try to pay close enough attention to learn something about yourself and where you came from every day.

In the years before logic works, you have a wonderful opportunity to practice winning over hearts instead of minds.

Connection expands in proportion to your time sitting on the floor next to them.

Someone will cry when the milk spills. Try to make sure it’s not you.

It’s only possible to handle someone else’s big emotions when you’ve taken care of yourself.

Life is fragile; love helps us to overcome the abject fear of being responsible for it.

Relationship can handle a lot as long as you remain connected.

Whatever amount of vulnerability and patience you entered parenthood with will not be enough. Fortunately, kids come with many opportunities to exercise both.

Things will seem unbearable, and then they’ll change.

It will pain you greatly at times, but you have to big the bigger person.

Parenting is maddening; but a bigger part is gladdening.

You will screw it up. Treat yourself as gently as you can, laugh about it, apologize as necessary, and remember you are teaching them how to start again.

The big upsets are rarely about what it’s about. Take the socks, for example, which is really about the complete disruption of any order and ability to get things done you previously believed you had.

Or this list, which might not be just about parenting.

Fifteen Things I’m Grateful I Did With My Kids This Year

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“The soul is healed by being with children.” – Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Went to a spray park on a rainy, cold day

Chased after the ice cream truck

Traveled to my childhood home town and rode the carousel a gazillion times

Built sand castles

Walked on the beach

Went back to find the little bit of plastic that we dropped on the beach when we realized we’d accidentally littered

Held our puppy

Dragged us all to puppy kindergarten class

Watched sunrises and cried when perfect days end

Played hockey with a tennis ball in the front hallway

Listened to their young voices telling me they are es-perts and wisdom that includes magic of fairies, hopes, and togetherness

Laughed about silly stuff

Talked about outside hurts and inside hurts

Celebrated doing hard things

Said yes… to all of the above and more

Sweet Tooth

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“It’s not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.” – Edmund Hillary

My math brain likes to discern patterns. If you call me out of the blue at 4pm on Monday and then do it more than once, I’ll jump to wondering what you are doing Mondays at 3pm that makes you think of me.

The patterns that interest me most are the ones that take me a long time to pick up on. Here’s one.

I have a sweet tooth. Like a big sweet tooth. More than one – actually, a whole mouthful. I’ve frequently argued with it, sometimes ignored it, but very rarely analyzed it.

My dad had a big sweet tooth as well. Are these kinds of things inherited?

But recently I was describing my sweet tooth to someone as something that starts with Halloween, carries through the holidays, and best case, abates sometime around Memorial Day.

When I started stashing those mini candy bars in my pantry again, I chalked it up to the pre-Halloween availability of those bite size snacks. Besides, I’m especially busy, so it’s just part of keeping up the quick energy to get everything done, right?

And then my recent description of my sweet tooth jiggled something loose. The memory that last year my reason was that it was because I was traveling for work. And the year before that? I don’t know – probably post-pandemic back to in-person school or something.

The point being – I have a new reason every year. If I look at the pattern, it starts with fall. I start feeling like sleeping more with the earlier sunsets and crisper evenings. And it’s a little harder to get up at 5am in these cold, dark mornings. I’m looking for the natural summer productivity that I get here in Seattle with the 16 hours days, to be all year round. When my body tries to pick up the seasonal cues to slow down, I jack it up on sugar.

You know what? I bet my dad did that to a degree too. He also had a problem slowing down, being anything less than on-the-go. So is it inherited? Well, maybe it is. The go-go pattern not the sweet tooth. Not that I’m ruling that out either.

Now that I see it, I wonder if this is a pattern I want to pass on. Isn’t that a funny thing about families? Sometimes it’s hardest to see the patterns closest to us.

For a related post about change in energy, please see my Heart of the Matter post Department of Low Energy.

The Gift of Hard Things

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“Experience is the hardest kind of teacher; it gives you the test first and the lesson afterward.” – Oscar Wilde

Summer is winding down in the Northern Hemisphere. I can feel all the tell-tale signs, the nights that are chilly before we go to bed, and have that cool calm when I get up at 5:30am. The relenting brightness of the sun starts to give away to the softer light of fall. And, we are getting ready for the start back to school.

Last week, my eight-year-old daughter was giving me the breakdown of the third grade teachers that she might get for this next year in school. One yells a lot, one is neutral, and one is nice. As she was talking about who she hopes to get for this year to come, I felt an upwelling of tension surge through my spine. Putting my finger to it, I’d say it’s because of that protective desire for her to get the nice teacher.

But that’s at odds with what I know about life. My lived experience tells me that everything doesn’t always work out the way we want, that sometimes we have to wade through the year(s) of muck to get to the side of clarity, and that sometimes we get the crusty teacher.

For all the resilience I’ve learned about life, I find that my children challenge my worldview. That is to say, my desire to give them a life that was better than my own sets up a tension with the reality of how life unfolds. There is about zero chance that I can root for my daughter to get the mean teacher even though she may learn a lot more about uncovering the gem in the rough if she does.

It reminds me of a letter my dad, who was a Presbyterian pastor, gave me when I was going through my divorce about 12 years ago. It was tucked in the page of a book he was giving me: Know Doubt by John Ortberg. The letter said in part.

I have seen so many people in my ministry going through times of deep change in their lives and it seems that those are also times of deep thought and reflection that have been creative and good for them. You are in the middle of a lot of change these days. There must be some serious disappointment that your marriage has not worked out as you had dreamed and intended. Your life has been the story of one big success after another and you don’t have many things in your life that don’t work out well and so this time must be unsettling. So just maybe this time of change is also a time when you are questioning and thinking about big stuff like faith and doubt and your life-view. If so, I really think this little book might be a good read for you.

Dick Leon

He acknowledges the unsettling nature of life – but that unsettling times of life also lead to creativity and good. Did my dad wish for me to have hard times? Absolutely not. But did he think that goodness was going to come out of it? Definitely.

I wonder if my tension about not wanting my kids, or any of my loved ones, to go through hard times comes across. Maybe as anxiety? It’s way harder to watch others face uncertainty than to go through it myself.

In another sign that summer is coming to an end, my daughter just celebrated her birthday. At the end of the day, she pulled me in tight and whispered in my ear that she didn’t want the day and her birthday to end.  I thought “Ah yes, my dear, but finding the magic in all the other days of the year when we aren’t front and center creates the sweet spot of life.” The lessons are harder to find on the days we get everything we want.

I find I can reduce my anxiety about the hard days my kids will have by remembering, as my dad did, that creativity and deep understanding comes on those days, not on birthdays.

Check out my Heart of the Matter post today for a lesson I’m learning about taking a new job in my 50’s: Going with My Gut

(featured photo from Pexels)

Try, Try, and Try Again

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“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day, saying, “I will try again tomorrow.” – Mary Anne Radmacher

I’m sure I’m not the first parent to say that my kids are making me insane. I don’t mean that in a pull-my-hair out kind of way though. I mean it according to the phrase, “insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.”

Because it feels to me that letting my kids do the same thing over and over again, often comes with the different result.

Last week, Mr. D wanted to ride his bike home from pre-school. We couldn’t do it on Monday or Tuesday. But when Wednesday rolled around, I dropped him at school with his bike, that he proudly rolled in to park next to his teacher’s bike, so that we could ride home.

I had Miss O and her friend with me that afternoon so the three of us rode to Mr. D’s school to pick him up. It took us about 10 minutes to get there. Mr. D sagely choose to walk his bike down the hill to the bike path to begin the mile-and-a-half home. Which is a long way on a bike with training wheels, but he, as our leader, bravely started out.

And then 50 yards later stopped and said he couldn’t do it. Uh-oh. We were a long way from home. So I suggested we take a snack break. After a nice snack break in the shade, we were back on the bikes. Mr. D again set off as the leader and this time went about 100 yards before stopping and declaring he couldn’t do it. That time we stopped to look at ants.

In that fashion, we slowly made our way home with a great deal of tension between the two girls who were antsy to race ahead and Mr. D taking breaks. It took us almost an hour-and-a-half.

The next day, Thursday, when we got in the car to take Mr. D to school, he said, “I want to ride my bike home from school.”

Oh boy. I might have rolled my eyes when no one was looking. But here’s the thing – I know he can do it. He’s done it before, just not at the end of the day. So I loaded his bike in the car and dropped him at school. This time when I picked him up, Miss O wasn’t with me and I attached a third wheel seat to the back of my bike so that if he chose not to ride his own, he could sit back there.

For that attempt, he made it about halfway round the lake before he decided to try out the third wheel. I chained his bike to a tree and we rode home that way, even though he’d never wanted to try that “trail-a-bike” before. Then I had to pack up both kids into the car, drive back around the lake to pick up his bike chained to the tree. The result – another hour-and-a-half expedition to pick up Mr. D from school a mile and a half away.

So then Friday rolled around. When we got in the car to take Mr. D to school, he said, “I want to ride my bike home from school.”

This is where the insanity comes in — I said “Okay” and loaded the bike into the car. On the way home, he made it half way round, I chained the bike to the tree and he rode the rest of the way on the third wheel. But it was easier this time and I popped by the tree to pick up his bike when I went to get Thai food after my friend Eric arrived for dinner.

And each time? Well, there were moments of tension but we also had a good time, and had fun trying. My kids constantly remind me that life is insane – in the best way. That the boundaries of what I previously thought I could do are just mental barriers to blow through. That there is joy in trying the same thing over and over again – and getting a different result.

I’ve written a companion piece about kids and joy: Bundle of Whose Joy? on the Heart of the Matter blog. Please pop over there if you have a minute.