Making a List

I’ve set an intention to start a daily journaling habit. To make a practice out of writing down what I am grateful for.

I have the little notebook, and have been carrying it around with me for days. If I’m ever going to get started, the eve of Thanksgiving is the night to commit.

So, this is the start of my gratitude journal. The likes of Oprah and other wise women say this activity will change my life. Inspire me to seek out abundance over scarcity. Keep my life in line with my highest values. And make me a happier person.

In no particular order, some things I am grateful for right here, right now:

• The safe feeling of our warm house with the wind howling through the darkness outside.
• Enough to eat, a place to sleep, and a heart that hopes and prays that one day everyone can have these needs met.
• Subscriptions to my favorite magazines…and some quiet time here and there to enjoy them.
• My son’s smile, and the flash in his eyes when he is wide-open and full-throttle.
• The opportunity to “start over” with healthy eating and proper nutrition…on Friday.
• A weekend full of fun activities with my little family, and some dear friends.
• My husband’s curiosity and love of knowledge, different cultures, and exploring them with me and Casey.
• A fluffy pillow waiting for my sleepy head…

Steven and Lisa

Yesterday I got a note from a dear friend, who told me about her dear friend Steven and his wife, Lisa, who want to start a family, and have chosen adoption. She sent me a link to their website, in hopes that spreading the word about this amazing couple and their search for a child might help them find their baby.

This beautiful couple is creative and warm and so full of love for each other. And so open and ready for a child to come into their lives.

Please visit http://lisaandsteven.com/ and please pass it on.

Tummy Trouble and a Tender Heart

On Wednesday afternoon, I started to feel ill. By the time we got home, all I wanted was two layers of blankets and a few crackers. This was the first night of the week that we were all home together, but with chattering teeth and a fuzzy head, I was present, but not available to either my son or my husband.

I dozed off and on and could hear them – playing downstairs, bath time, then time for bed. Even though I had been the bedtime parent on the previous night, Casey wanted me to read to him this night, and put him to bed. Probably because he didn’t get any Mommy time all night.

Just as he had been all evening long, Tom was a superstar dad. Explaining that Mommy felt sick, and needed to rest. He was helping Casey understand how I felt (“remember when you had a tummy ache the other day?”), why I couldn’t take him to bed (“Mommy needs to rest so she will feel better tomorrow and be able to play with you again”), and that everything would be okay (“Daddy’s here and loves you and will stay with you while you fall asleep”).

It was so sweet to hear my husband taking it all on that night, patiently and tenderly helping our son learn how to have compassion for his sick Mama. It didn’t take long for Casey to stop protesting, and for me to doze back off to La La Land.

I took a sick day on Thursday. Slept and rested. Tom did the bedtime routine again, so I could take off and have the evening for myself.

So today was back to normal. Fever gone, head clear, Mom is ready to get back in the swing of things.  I went in to get Casey out of bed and ready for school. When I peaked into his room, he looked up, and in a raspy, not-quite-awake-voice, said, “Mom, does your tummy feel better today?”

Though the sun was not up yet, it was like rays of light were streaming into the room. Or (to be slightly less dramatic), at least there was a soft warm glow surrounding my tenderhearted little boy, who is learning the basics of kindness and compassion. I was so proud of him for that (and I told him so).

I was also proud of his wonderful dad for fostering those qualities in our son.

Painting

When we pick Casey up in the afternoons, he often wants to “show us something” in the room. Sometimes he wants to read a book before we go, or just point out an activity that he worked on that day. Today it was his art.

“Mama, I want to show you something.”

And he took me by the hand, pulling me towards the easel.

“I painted!”

He beamed.

“It’s a ladder and a letter painting.”

I beamed.

Then came the tears that blurred my vision as I observed the joy he had found in painting, and his pride in sharing it with me. Kneeling down there on the floor, looking at this beautiful child and his project, I just let it soak for a minute, overwhelmed and in awe of the wonder of life, and the exquisite miracle that we all participate in each day. Watching my child’s unrestrained expression – nothing to prove, nothing to fear – is one reason, I think, that God put me in this life, with this kid, at this school, on this day.

To be reminded of the joy and delight that comes from being free of fear and criticism. That life’s high points are simple, uncomplicated moments of creativity and the joy of sharing it with others.

Isn’t that amazing, Mom?

Kids live in the moment. I think that helps explain how our transition from one daycare to another has gone so smoothly. Though he remembers his “old school,” Casey has most definitely moved on, and each drop off at the “new school” is easy and trauma free (for kid and parents). The atmosphere there is warm, calm (first thing in the morning, anyway), and his teacher is there waiting to greet him, and offer one or two activities to catch his attention and imagination. He confidently chooses, and sets right down to his painting or puzzle or whatever project is there for him. I that I can’t help but notice for myself how much joy and ease can be found when you’re immersed in the Now.

And because they are so good at being present, I have to trust that often, my kid knows more about what he needs than I do. Today was Homecoming Sunday and the first day of the “school year” in the Learning Community at our church. We’ve been talking it up – that Casey will be in the Senior Preschool class, and that he’ll meet some new friends and teachers but will probably know a few people too – and he’s seemed to be interested and ready to go (and let us go to church while he stays). But when we got there, he didn’t want us to leave. We wanted to go. He wanted to go with us. We wanted him to stay. We ended up all staying for the hour. Casey remained close to either Tom or me for the duration, but I could see a few moments of curiosity and comfort, and I am hoping those feelings will grow, and we’ll eventually get to do our separate things on Sunday mornings. But hearing him ask for us to stay, feeling him press his body close to mine, seeing the concern across his wrinkled forehead – I know he needs us and I don’t see any reason to push him into an uncomfortable situation. Especially when I see him, day after day, confidently leave us behind at his school.

These experiences remind me of what it really means to parent. I do my best to be a guide, to help him navigate this big world and discover how he fits in it. But as always, he’s my teacher too, helping me see how I fit, and reminding me to see beauty and wonder every single day.

Tonight, after we were done brushing teeth (with the toothbrush that blinks for one minute so you know how long to do it), Casey turned off the light, closed the bathroom door and asked me to blink it again, so we could watch in the dark. “Isn’t is awesome?” he asked. I agreed and pulled him onto my lap to enjoy the one minute show. “Isn’t it amazing, Mom?” He asked again as the last red flicker disappeared. Totally, amazing I agreed, as I gave him one more squeeze and thanked the heavens for the creation of a blinking toothbrush…and for the creation of my beautiful boy.

Lego Warfare Breaks All of the Family Rules

Tonight, a certain three-year-old hit me in the face with a stack of Legos.

It was as much my fault as his.

He wanted me to build a school with him and I wanted to sneak a look at a website. More specifically, he wanted the complete and undivided attention of his mama, and I wanted to multitask.

It’s no surprise that a preschooler needs lots and lots of attention. Mine is no exception. And he’s been making this clear to us lately – using his toolkit of both positive and negative behaviors – he is in a very needy place. One minute he’s running up to me to “tell me a secret” and yelling out, “I love you Mom!” and the next minute it’s, “NO! I don’t want to [fill in the blank]!” Or, he’s whacking me with a stack of blocks and then bursting into tears.

We’ve had a busy, somewhat chaotic summer. Change has been our constant companion as we put our house on the market, look at other houses to buy, celebrated a big third birthday with friends and family, and then started a new preschool on top of it all (more on that in another post…now you know why I have not written a thing on this blog for months).

And even though Casey is an extremely articulate little boy, he’s still working on his “people skills.” Learning how to use words to get his way, and how to control his recently discovered firey temper. But here I am, the grown up, and I can hear him loud and clear. He’s telling me everything he needs and I just need to keep listening. Keep being patient. And keep talking through the hitting, grunting, shouting, and loving so he can know that I am listening.

I’m doing my best to keep reminding and reinforcing our unlimited love for him, our joy in being part of his life, and the basic guidelines for being a part of modern civilization. We use three simple rules we set up a year ago to help us all navigate the ups and downs of growing up in this crazy world:

1. Be kind
2. Be safe
3. Have fun

This is working well, though some days are more trying than others. But at the endof the day, this kid is still just blowing my mind with his capacity for joy, his creativity and inventiveness, and his blossoming personality and courageous spirit.

I’ll gladly take the bumps and bruises (both literal and figurative ones) for they are always over shadowed by the love.

This Minute

Waiting for my boys to get themselves ready this morning, I randomly checked in to one of the blogs I periodically read – Antique Mommy.

She told a beautiful story in her post yesterday, and I thought I’d share it here. A lovely reminder for us parents to notice the miracles in our lives, allow ourselves time and space to relax and enjoy our children and ourselves, and to do our best to live in, and for, this minute.

Back Off, Mama.

So, we all know it is quite normal and natural for a baby, a toddler, even a preschooler to swear allegiance to his mama and shun the attention and love of others, including the source of the other half of his DNA. As I noted recently, it’s Mommy. Mommy. Mommymommyomommy. All the time, and therefore, not Daddydaddydaddy.

Except of course when I am not around and then Casey is more than happy to hang with his dad, behave for his dad, take showers read books and go to bed on time no problem. Which is why, I believe, Daddy is getting frustrated with the Mommy thing. And I’m starting to see that he’s not just annoyed, the repeated rejection is beginning to hurt. 

I’ve been dealing with it all just like any “Good Mommy” should by modeling extreme patience, heading off conflict because I know I can do it swiftly and spare us all, and generally swooping in and smoothing things over when a certain someone is melting down (you’ll have to guess who…maybe not who you think…wink wink) and making everything better. I’m a Super Good Mommy.

Right?

Well, it just occurred to me that maybe I’m being just a little too super for my own good – for all of us in fact. Is it possible that my swooping and smoothing is fanning the flames of Casey’s burning desire for only Mom? Would it be so bad if the little man had to melt down just a little (or a lot), giving Dad a chance to try out and hone his own skills at preschooler damage control? How might I (get ready, this is a good one) use my time differently if I were not doing the Good Mommy routine all around the clock.

It’s time for Mama to back off a little. Create some space for Dad to get in there and take the lead. Develop some new routines and rituals that are just for Dad and Son. We’ll have to force it at first. Tomorrow morning I’m going to head to a coffee shop and catch up on the work I didn’t get done this week (having these amazing revelations can really distract you from the task at hand). By removing myself from the Saturday morning equation, it will be easier to get the Dad/Son ball rolling (like I said, he’s all cool with Dad when I’m out of the picture). Eventually, maybe I’ll be able to just stay in bed while they do their thing.

This backing off has another dimension. Anyone who knows me, even casually, has probably had the “pleasure” of hearing me go on at least a little about how being a mom and wife takes up all my time and space and (even though I love my family dearly) I never have time or energy to take care of myself or pursue any interests, passions or hobbies outside of my family responsibilities.

Poor me.

Or is it stupid me? I just realized that when I try to be Good Mommy all the time, I am on autopilot. And in that mode I am putting everyone else in front of me. Not recognizing my own needs, and ironically, not noticing Casey and Tom’s need to forge their father-son bond.

If it was a snake, it would have bitten me.

Crazy how I can get so wrapped up in the stories that run circles in my mind. What I should, could, would be doing with my life as a mom, wife, woman, human, employee, friend, daughter, etc. These powerful thougths are doing their best to keep me from realizing Truth even when it is right there before me.

But I’m getting better at this stuff. And I’m starting to hear the calling from my heart that tells me there are different ways to think and act and love. It’s a sort of soft voice right now, but the more I shush the noise in my head, the more I will be able to hear that voice, calling me ever closer to find my true sacred self.

 

Sift What’s Worth Keeping

I have a vague understanding and a somewhat hesitant acceptance of the “fact” that everything happens for a reason and whatever your circumstance, it’s exactly what you need at that moment. Doesn’t mean you always like what the universe is handing out at any given moment, but you can trust that it’s all part of the grand scheme of things.

But doesn’t it feel awesome when you totally recognize that what you’re being handed is exactly what you needed…and it feels great and fills you with energy and love and power? I had that yesterday.

With all our travels lately, we haven’t been to church in weeks, but the topic of Sunday’s sermon was titled “Happy to be Alive” and I felt a pull to be there. Even on a lazy holiday weekend, when it would have been easier to bag it and make a big pancake breakfast instead, I wanted to go.

So we went. Casey eventually allowed us to leave him in the Jr. Preschool class and we slipped into seats just as the service was beginning. The minister, Rev. Robert Schaibly, opened the service with this well-known, anonomous quote:

A friend is one to whom you can pour out the contents of your heart, chaff and grain alike. Knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.

Was he looking right at me as he delivered these words? Did he see how I caught my breath on the last phrase? How could he have known that I needed this, really really needed this?

 

These beautiful words so elequently articulate a piece of me that I am both great and terrible at. Kindness is an attribute that I long to be known for. My great wish is that people who know me, or people who meet me, would think of that small word as the one they’d choose to describe me. Kind. And it’s the one thing that I want for my son more than most anything else. Kindness. That he would be kind, and that the world would be kind in return. In some ways, I am awesome at kindness, and at the same time, well, not so much.

 

Just as Rev. Schaibly breaks his sermon into three main points (maybe I’ll post more about “Happy to be Alive” later), my reaction to this bit of wisdom hits home on three levels:

1. Toward my child. Sometimes I even surprise myself at how much patience and kindness I can have for another person. Especially a three-year-old one. Aside from a few brief stints over these almost three years, Casey is a mamma’s boy, and he needs me, wants me, and clings to me. Even the sound of my name, “Mommy, Mommy. Mamma. Mommy, Mommy, Moooooommmmmyyyyy,” is a comfort to him as he repeats it endlessly (while I am two feet away saying, “Yes, baby, what? What do you need sweetie? Hey Case, what’s up? Babe? What do you need?). How do I (almost always) stay calm, attentive and kind through his sometimes wild and, quite frankly, often annoying behavior? It’s because I am holding on to the grain – his laugh, his sweetness, his sensitivity - and letting the chaff blow away (the mood swings, the whining, the mind-numbing repetition of my name).
2. Toward my husband. When you sign on to love and cherish and share your life with someone, you better have in mind this concept of sifting. Before I go on, I must say that I am a lucky woman and snagged myself one heck of a husband. My baby’s daddy is a keeper, and it was this quote that reminded me to continue to love, cherish and sift, as long as we both shall live. Without saying more than I’m ready to share about my relationship with my husband, let’s just say that it was perfect timing to be reminded that for any quality of his that clashes with one of mine, he has two qualities that mesh. And that with the gentlest of hands I must hold my marriage close to my heart, and treat it with absolute kindness.
3. Toward myself. Ahhh, this is another tough one, but I’ve been picking up signals for all over the place, that I have a lesson to learn. I must treat myself as I would my dear friend. Choose loving, kind and encouraging words to whisper into my head and my heart to drown out the mean, discouraging stuff that I would never think to utter out loud to another person. Recognize the grain of me and let the rest fall away.

When I heard the words spoken, I knew they hit home for me. But what I’ve just put down in my own words has been sort of simmering below my surface, waiting to bubble up. These words have helped me to continue to open my heart to myself, and to my loved ones. Even as I write this, I am thinking about how the impact of these brief words continue to radiate outward – to my family, my friends, coworkers, even random strangers.

 

How powerful it would if we all learned to gently sift out just what’s worth keeping.

Collecting

Last night at dinner, Casey noticed his reflection in his spoon. It was fascinating to watch him explore – he’s upside down on the inside of the spoon (“all messed up” as he described), and that wasn’t to his liking. But he had such fun with the back side, turning the spoon around and around, making “angry goat face” and cracking up. We both cracked up at our distorted images and funny faces.

I resisted the urge to run upstairs and grab the camera to document this moment of silliness and joy that we were sharing. Instead, I just let it be. I even resisted the thought of recreating the whole thing later when the camera was handy!

As a collector (through my life so far I’ve collected everything from seashells to cow figurines – I’ve stuck with the former but given up the latter), my inclination is always to capture and save things that I love. This applies to interesting rocks on a trail to intangibles like my son’s facial expressions at the dinner table. But I’m often wondering how much I’m missing, or how much more I could experience the moment, if I wasn’t so concerned with holding on to it forever.

So last night was another baby step toward staying in the present moment – being aware of life as it is actually happening. And, okay, since I have this blog, I can still write about it and am, in a sense, collecting that memory, but maybe in a way that helps me both enjoy the moment and learn from it.