It is the sweetest thing.
Wednesday, December 27, 2017
Favorite
Ruby is the snuggliest kid ever. Yep, I made up a word, because it needs to exist to describe my child. Her love language is touch and she never gets enough hugs, kisses, snuggles, squeezes, or tickles. Her mornings begin and nights end with snuggles from me. In the morning, she comes flying into my room and she burrows in the warmth and blankets of my bed. She knows I am not a snuggler in the morning or anytime when I am sleepy. Her constant movement and twitching and stray curls tickling me in the face can irritate me when I am only half conscious. She knows this. So, she seeks out my hand under the covers and laces her fingers between mine and while holding hands, we doze until my alarm goes off.
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Christmas wishes
Most moms, I am sure, struggle with feeling "enough." Doing enough? Engaging enough? Participating enough? Contributing enough? Experiencing enough? Enjoying enough? Providing enough? Loving enough? Disciplining enough? Really, the list—and doubt—seems endless.
I feel it especially strong during the holidays and this year I am fighting that bug like crazy. I feel like I should be making all these special memories with Ruby, but I have little time and even less energy to check off all the items on the "should" list. My actual thought the other night was "I wish I knew what was going to make Ruby's special memories as an adult, so I can focus on those things and forget everything else." Yes, that thought really crossed my brain. Talk about Christmas spirit, right?
It is difficult now because Ruby is old enough to notice. With noticing, comes some expectations and curiosity. She wonders why we do not have an elf or a chimney (how does Santa get in?). She wonders why her Christmases have to be split between two homes. I feel the need to participate in all the extras to assuage my guilt for my shortcomings and so that Ruby's expectations and hopes are met.
My reluctance to participate in all the extras comes from feeling that almost none of what Americans do to celebrate Christmas is what Christmas is actually about. Christmas seems to be a time to spend money we often don't have, decorations and lights on the house to impress others, drinking too much wine, and make-believe people/creatures. The traditional Christmas is not something I really want to participate in. Call me Scrooge, but I do not find meaning in all of the fake and falsified.
For me, a meaningful Christmas is one with parties with family, friends, and coworkers. Gathering to enjoy delicious food and spending time together. Decorations, gifts, and stress kept to a minimum. Walking through a quiet neighborhood on a quiet, snowy night, talking about the meaning of the season. Singing carols and hymns together. Every time I sit in church on Christmas and sing, I cry. It moves me. Volunteering with loved ones - ringing a bell or serving food or a million other things to make the season special for someone less fortunate. Finding beauty and peace in the moonlight. A day bundled against the cold, sledding with my family. Red noses and shivering bodies piling in the house to warm up to hot chocolate and an overload of mini marshmallows.
Christmas is a feeling to me that is created by love and time with people I care about. It is creating memories instead of accumulating stuff. I want Ruby to learn that too - it is not the stuff, it is not the race or the stress or the money. It is not proving my love by the number of gifts under the tree. It is finding the love that started all of that. I want to peel back the layers of all the extra to find the beauty of Christmas once again. I want to teach her to seek the beauty and joy in those moments of laughter and connection that speak to her heart. Instead of momentary delight in a new toy, cultivate moments and memories to collect in her heart and soul and make her truly feel Christmas and she will have the gift of delight to last the rest of her life.
I struggle to balance teaching her to find the love, with matching her and my (self-imposed) expectations. So often, it makes me question if I am doing enough. Then, I am reminded that she is just a kid and maybe there does not have to be so much feeling. Maybe just make the memories now and the feelings will come later. Then, as always, I wonder if I am too much.
The upside is that whether I am right or wrong, I go through this inner turmoil because I love my daughter and want the best for her. She has given me the gift of delight for the past 5 Christmases. I only hope to return the same.
I feel it especially strong during the holidays and this year I am fighting that bug like crazy. I feel like I should be making all these special memories with Ruby, but I have little time and even less energy to check off all the items on the "should" list. My actual thought the other night was "I wish I knew what was going to make Ruby's special memories as an adult, so I can focus on those things and forget everything else." Yes, that thought really crossed my brain. Talk about Christmas spirit, right?
It is difficult now because Ruby is old enough to notice. With noticing, comes some expectations and curiosity. She wonders why we do not have an elf or a chimney (how does Santa get in?). She wonders why her Christmases have to be split between two homes. I feel the need to participate in all the extras to assuage my guilt for my shortcomings and so that Ruby's expectations and hopes are met.
For me, a meaningful Christmas is one with parties with family, friends, and coworkers. Gathering to enjoy delicious food and spending time together. Decorations, gifts, and stress kept to a minimum. Walking through a quiet neighborhood on a quiet, snowy night, talking about the meaning of the season. Singing carols and hymns together. Every time I sit in church on Christmas and sing, I cry. It moves me. Volunteering with loved ones - ringing a bell or serving food or a million other things to make the season special for someone less fortunate. Finding beauty and peace in the moonlight. A day bundled against the cold, sledding with my family. Red noses and shivering bodies piling in the house to warm up to hot chocolate and an overload of mini marshmallows.
Christmas is a feeling to me that is created by love and time with people I care about. It is creating memories instead of accumulating stuff. I want Ruby to learn that too - it is not the stuff, it is not the race or the stress or the money. It is not proving my love by the number of gifts under the tree. It is finding the love that started all of that. I want to peel back the layers of all the extra to find the beauty of Christmas once again. I want to teach her to seek the beauty and joy in those moments of laughter and connection that speak to her heart. Instead of momentary delight in a new toy, cultivate moments and memories to collect in her heart and soul and make her truly feel Christmas and she will have the gift of delight to last the rest of her life.
I struggle to balance teaching her to find the love, with matching her and my (self-imposed) expectations. So often, it makes me question if I am doing enough. Then, I am reminded that she is just a kid and maybe there does not have to be so much feeling. Maybe just make the memories now and the feelings will come later. Then, as always, I wonder if I am too much.
The upside is that whether I am right or wrong, I go through this inner turmoil because I love my daughter and want the best for her. She has given me the gift of delight for the past 5 Christmases. I only hope to return the same.
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
The moon
It's such that a North Dakota winter is very often gloomy and dark. This time of year, the sun rises shortly before 8:00 a.m. and sets sometime before 5:00 p.m. There isn't a lot of opportunity for the sun, especially when the days are often overcast with such ambiguous blue/gray clouds that it's hard to tell if you are looking at clouds or sky - until realizing the giant give-away of the missing sun.
It's not the sun I care too much about anyway.
The moon is who my eyes search for when they raise to the sky. It is a nightly ritual for me to shut the lights off in my home before I retire to bed and look out my kitchen window for a glimpse of the moon. This thing I do is so much a part of me that I did not even notice it was a ritual until now.
There was a super moon the night of my birthday and I secretly anticipated the night. It turned out that there were too many clouds to get a good view of the super moon, other than a very muted halo. I was disappointed but not surprised. So often during the winter, I cannot see her. However, when Ruby and I are leaving in the darkness of the morning to begin our day in the world, she's still there. If I'm lucky, the clouds have parted and I feel her waiting for me. She searches for me, like I search for her. Always, always I feel a pull of gratitude in my heart for the 3 second glimpse of her before pulling out of the driveway. Sometimes I pause and ask Ruby to admire her with me.
I think she knows I need her more for the day than the night.
It's not the sun I care too much about anyway.
The moon is who my eyes search for when they raise to the sky. It is a nightly ritual for me to shut the lights off in my home before I retire to bed and look out my kitchen window for a glimpse of the moon. This thing I do is so much a part of me that I did not even notice it was a ritual until now.
There was a super moon the night of my birthday and I secretly anticipated the night. It turned out that there were too many clouds to get a good view of the super moon, other than a very muted halo. I was disappointed but not surprised. So often during the winter, I cannot see her. However, when Ruby and I are leaving in the darkness of the morning to begin our day in the world, she's still there. If I'm lucky, the clouds have parted and I feel her waiting for me. She searches for me, like I search for her. Always, always I feel a pull of gratitude in my heart for the 3 second glimpse of her before pulling out of the driveway. Sometimes I pause and ask Ruby to admire her with me.
I think she knows I need her more for the day than the night.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Thanksgiving
Thinking about Thanksgiving, I wanted to write something about gratitude and giving thanks. If I am totally honest, it has been difficult for me to feel much gratitude lately as I have felt many challenges the last few months, and I have had little time or energy (or will) to think about my blessings. Between adjusting to Ruby being in school—the nightly homework, the never-ending obligations and functions at school, the papers (my God, the papers!) to review and sign and return, the money needed, the forms to fill out, the fundraisers, etc. (I was unprepared for the demands of elementary school)—to preparing for a new bundle of joy, lonesomeness for my close friends, after-school care issues, relationship complexities, a drastic tightening of the checkbook, feeling unwell physically, mentally, and spiritually, and trying to juggle all the details and nuances of the life of a single mother has left me absolutely spent these last few months.
Mind you, none of the challenges I have faced lately have been earth-shattering. However, the challenges coming at me from every direction has been overwhelming and I probably could have handled it better... but I am doing the best I can under the circumstances. Some days, I feel like I can handle only the very thing in front of me; everything else needs to wait. And, oh yes, the cherry on top? Insomnia. That helps a great ton. ;)
Anyway, in thinking about how difficult the last few months have been and how I feel neither the desire nor will to list the items I am grateful for, this is the time I need it the very most. I realize also that remembering gratitude in my struggles will most likely make those struggles more bearable, but like I said - one thing at a time! Learning, growing, and trying to better, always.
So, I will force it. This Thanksgiving, these are the things I am most thankful for...
My health. I debated putting my health or Ruby first, and if I didn't have my health, I couldn't care for Ruby the way I need to... so I will first say I am grateful for my health. I had struggled with depression and anxiety for so many years, that there is not a day that goes by that I am not conscious of the fact that I am not in a black pit of despair. I have found appreciation for the techniques and tools I learned during the depressive years that have helped me cope the last several months. Physically, I have been feeling unwell, but for good reason - and I remind myself that it is only for a season. I can live with it, if it means that I get to love the bundle at the end of the season.
Ruby. My daughter, my heart, my sidekick, and my joy. She is my favorite person to be around. She's wonderful and generous and loving and deeply caring. She is so much of what is good in this world. She amazes and makes me laugh every day. There's something special about that child and I feel so lucky to be her mom and sit in the glow of the light that she brings this world. And I am so eternally grateful to be a mother all over again.
I am grateful for my family and friends. My family has been hugely supportive and protective of me and Ruby, and although we have many differences of opinion, they forgive me my faults and sins and love Ruby and me wildly. My friends have been my strength and courage in life. I have a small circle of truly incredible people I call friends. For so long, I lamented that I had a small circle. Then, I realized that for what I lack in quantity, I have in quality; real friends who love hard and support endlessly and show up for me over and over and over again. If my life were a body, Ruby would be my heart. My family would be the bones, and my friends? The muscle. They give me strength when I am weak. They provide wisdom when I fall flat, and love me when I cannot find me.
Cornell. I am so grateful to have known and experienced mind-blowing love. A deep and powerful love that I never expected to be blessed with. I am grateful to know the incredible man that he is, to observe the love and connection between him and Ruby, and to watch him become a father. I am thankful for the things I have learned on our journey and how, in so many ways, he has broken my heart open. Things have been really difficult for us and because of those difficulties, I find myself growing in ways I never expected. It has been painful, but growth is often painful and I realize our challenges have been a necessary part of my evolution. So, no matter what our future holds, I am grateful for and humbled by the love we have shared.
I am thankful for the life I have. I have been trying to educate myself on others, i.e., cultures, countries, people, ethnicity. I realize more every day how lucky I am to be who I am in the circumstances I am in. I am a healthy woman, a mother, a white, employed, middle-class American. All of these things are extreme privileges that set me up for an easier life than a vast majority of the people in the world, and I do not and cannot take that for granted. I realize that complaining about signing papers to return to the school may sound positively despicable to so many in the world who worry about the safety and health of their children before the luxury of school. I cannot deny that I am hugely privileged and I am so grateful for the blessings that come with that privilege. My great hope is that God uses my life and privilege to teach me to both love more generously and ease the burden for others.
There are so many more things to be grateful for... but those are the main items on my mind and in my heart this Thanksgiving. Somehow, life seems a little more beautiful now then when I started this post. :) Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
Thursday, November 9, 2017
On mom'ing
Ruby and I were snuggling at bedtime last night, soft voices in the dark of her bedroom. Her head was craddled under my chin when this happened:
R: I love you even when I am tired and crabby.
M: I love you even when I get mad that you left your stinky socks in the living room again.
R: >soft giggles< I love you because you snuggle me and make me feel so loved.
M: I love you because of your gigantic heart... I also love that you made me a mom. Do you realize that? You're the only person in the world who gets that claim: you made me a mom.
R: What?!
M: Yeah, isn't that cool? Being your mom has been my favorite. It's a tough job but I love it so much.
R: Job?
M: Well, it's a lot of work sometimes. But I have more fun with you than anyone else in the world.
R: It's a tough job when your 5 year old doesn't put her socks away...
M: >laughed< Yes.
R: It's a tough job when your 5 year old is tired and crabby and complains about supper.
M: >laughed again< Yes, but what other job in the world makes me laugh as much as you? What other job in the world is as much fun as you? Or as sweet and kind and loving as you? None. Sure, being a mom is hard once in a while, but I love you always - even through the hard bits. That's not something I'd ever trade. I'm so glad God picked me to be your mom.
R: Me too. You're the perfect mom for me.
R: I love you even when I am tired and crabby.
M: I love you even when I get mad that you left your stinky socks in the living room again.
R: >soft giggles< I love you because you snuggle me and make me feel so loved.
M: I love you because of your gigantic heart... I also love that you made me a mom. Do you realize that? You're the only person in the world who gets that claim: you made me a mom.
R: What?!
M: Yeah, isn't that cool? Being your mom has been my favorite. It's a tough job but I love it so much.
R: Job?
M: Well, it's a lot of work sometimes. But I have more fun with you than anyone else in the world.
R: It's a tough job when your 5 year old doesn't put her socks away...
M: >laughed< Yes.
R: It's a tough job when your 5 year old is tired and crabby and complains about supper.
M: >laughed again< Yes, but what other job in the world makes me laugh as much as you? What other job in the world is as much fun as you? Or as sweet and kind and loving as you? None. Sure, being a mom is hard once in a while, but I love you always - even through the hard bits. That's not something I'd ever trade. I'm so glad God picked me to be your mom.
R: Me too. You're the perfect mom for me.
Monday, October 23, 2017
Gratitude List
Today I am grateful for:
Forgiveness from the one who relies on me the most
Early morning snuggles
Monday mornings after calm, comforting weekends
A piping hot Chai tea latte
Feeling seen
Fun plans with my Susie-bean
A safe soulmate despite the car wreck
Pictures from school
Some one-on-one (one-on-two?) time with my mama
Finding some peace with my path
A quieter week at work
Gift registries
Amazon Prime, for when life is too busy for even the basic stuff
A specially-made family picture for me to hang at work
Anticipating Halloween activities with my little Moana
Forgiveness from the one who relies on me the most
Early morning snuggles
Monday mornings after calm, comforting weekends
A piping hot Chai tea latte
Feeling seen
Fun plans with my Susie-bean
A safe soulmate despite the car wreck
Pictures from school
Some one-on-one (one-on-two?) time with my mama
Finding some peace with my path
A quieter week at work
Gift registries
Amazon Prime, for when life is too busy for even the basic stuff
A specially-made family picture for me to hang at work
Anticipating Halloween activities with my little Moana
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
On dragonflies
My beloved aunt, Liane, passed away on October 1. She had been sick for several months but the decline in her health was rapid and she passed away quickly. Almost unexpectedly. It hurts, unbearably at times.
I have spent some time overcome with grief and I do not try to hide it from Ruby. I want her to know that it is ok to love, it is ok to grieve, it is ok to cry. She sits with me quietly and strokes my arm and lays her head against my chest. Somehow, she makes this loss somewhat less unbearable.
My heart hurts for me: I loved and connected with Liane in a beautiful way. My heart hurts as much for her husband, kids, and siblings (my mom). She was a truly beautiful person. She was like a cozy, crackling fireplace on a crisp evening. I only wanted to be nearer to her to warm up. I think that's how everyone who knew her felt.
Her memorial service proved that true. Never have I been to a service like that; one that was so fitting, so comforting, so tender and gentle, and so full of love as hers. Everyone who spoke had genuine words of love and adoration for her. She dedicated her life to loving and taking care of others. They spoke of her nature: loving, kind, giving, and never one to complain. How she had her passions in life, but none topped that of her family. I walked away from that service appreciating her more than I maybe ever had.
Always, I adored her and loved to be with her. She never forgot a detail, a birthday. She made quiet, odd-ball me feel special, interesting, and especially loved. I realized at the service, that was her gift. She loved people and make them feel special and valued. She didn't just love them in her heart, she loved them with her words, her intentions, her actions. I truly can't think of a more beautiful legacy to leave than that. It inspires me to do the same.
I have spent some time overcome with grief and I do not try to hide it from Ruby. I want her to know that it is ok to love, it is ok to grieve, it is ok to cry. She sits with me quietly and strokes my arm and lays her head against my chest. Somehow, she makes this loss somewhat less unbearable.
My heart hurts for me: I loved and connected with Liane in a beautiful way. My heart hurts as much for her husband, kids, and siblings (my mom). She was a truly beautiful person. She was like a cozy, crackling fireplace on a crisp evening. I only wanted to be nearer to her to warm up. I think that's how everyone who knew her felt.
Her memorial service proved that true. Never have I been to a service like that; one that was so fitting, so comforting, so tender and gentle, and so full of love as hers. Everyone who spoke had genuine words of love and adoration for her. She dedicated her life to loving and taking care of others. They spoke of her nature: loving, kind, giving, and never one to complain. How she had her passions in life, but none topped that of her family. I walked away from that service appreciating her more than I maybe ever had.
Always, I adored her and loved to be with her. She never forgot a detail, a birthday. She made quiet, odd-ball me feel special, interesting, and especially loved. I realized at the service, that was her gift. She loved people and make them feel special and valued. She didn't just love them in her heart, she loved them with her words, her intentions, her actions. I truly can't think of a more beautiful legacy to leave than that. It inspires me to do the same.
Rest well, Liane. I love you. We'll see you again...
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
A new chapter
My little girl started Kindergarten yesterday.
I need a moment to let it sink in (still)...
The passing of time feels very surreal to me at times. I remember staring at my preemie in my arms at 2 or 3 months old and dreaming about Kindergarten, the school programs, the soccer games. I didn't want to rush her growth by any means, but I was so excited for all of it. I dreamed about watching my baby growing into a vibrant, wonderful little kid. Now, here she is.
We did several Kindergarten prep-type classes and programs to prepare Ruby, since she can be a bit nervous about new beginnings. I'm sure glad we did. It paid off and I felt relief as she strutted into her school yesterday. She held my hand as we navigated the busy hallways and her face beamed and you couldn't see her bouncing off the walls so much as feel it. Her excitement and nervous energy had her nearly trembling. She grinned at me so huge and squeezed my leg hard when she couldn't contain her joy. We found her classroom and said good morning to her teacher (took a few pictures) and found our way to the early-morning reading room. I wished her a great first day and she gave me a huge hug and kiss and an extra squeeze around the neck. She pulled back, looked me in the face "I love you, mama." She turned on her heel and entered the reading room, with all the curious little listeners turning to see who the next kid was. She didn't turn back to wave. She found a spot on the floor next to another little girl and crossed her legs and turned to listen to the reading teacher.
I made my way to the car before I cried.
I get sentimental and nostalgic at times like this. I think about the work and time and energy poured into easing this child's fears, into helping her build confidence and courage, teaching her manners, just all of it. Parenting (insert exhausted emoji here). How sometimes in the heat of it, it feels futile. That the same battle or argument or fit for the umpteenth day in a row is going to drive me insane. That the same worries or insecurities creep in for her and it feels the work to build her up has been undone. There is nothing a parent does to prepare their child for the world that is insignificant—so it seems at times like this.
I watched her excitement and confidence and felt comforted that my efforts in building her up, in cultivating that beautiful soul to blossom were not futile. She had an excellent first day and did not stop talking the whole evening. She was beyond deliriously tired last night. At bedtime, she asked if I would stay a little longer and snuggle with her. I stayed and rubbed her back as she finally quieted down and turned to run my hair through her fingers. She tucked her head under my chin and finally fell asleep. It was then that I was reminded, that although the day was, if I'm honest, quite sad for me, there's still so much to teach and grow and learn from my girl. It has felt like the end of my favorite book (her babyhood). But this is only a new chapter. I have loved raising my Ruby. And there's still so much to go.
My word, these 5.5 years have been sweet.
I need a moment to let it sink in (still)...
The passing of time feels very surreal to me at times. I remember staring at my preemie in my arms at 2 or 3 months old and dreaming about Kindergarten, the school programs, the soccer games. I didn't want to rush her growth by any means, but I was so excited for all of it. I dreamed about watching my baby growing into a vibrant, wonderful little kid. Now, here she is.
We did several Kindergarten prep-type classes and programs to prepare Ruby, since she can be a bit nervous about new beginnings. I'm sure glad we did. It paid off and I felt relief as she strutted into her school yesterday. She held my hand as we navigated the busy hallways and her face beamed and you couldn't see her bouncing off the walls so much as feel it. Her excitement and nervous energy had her nearly trembling. She grinned at me so huge and squeezed my leg hard when she couldn't contain her joy. We found her classroom and said good morning to her teacher (took a few pictures) and found our way to the early-morning reading room. I wished her a great first day and she gave me a huge hug and kiss and an extra squeeze around the neck. She pulled back, looked me in the face "I love you, mama." She turned on her heel and entered the reading room, with all the curious little listeners turning to see who the next kid was. She didn't turn back to wave. She found a spot on the floor next to another little girl and crossed her legs and turned to listen to the reading teacher.
I made my way to the car before I cried.
I get sentimental and nostalgic at times like this. I think about the work and time and energy poured into easing this child's fears, into helping her build confidence and courage, teaching her manners, just all of it. Parenting (insert exhausted emoji here). How sometimes in the heat of it, it feels futile. That the same battle or argument or fit for the umpteenth day in a row is going to drive me insane. That the same worries or insecurities creep in for her and it feels the work to build her up has been undone. There is nothing a parent does to prepare their child for the world that is insignificant—so it seems at times like this.
I watched her excitement and confidence and felt comforted that my efforts in building her up, in cultivating that beautiful soul to blossom were not futile. She had an excellent first day and did not stop talking the whole evening. She was beyond deliriously tired last night. At bedtime, she asked if I would stay a little longer and snuggle with her. I stayed and rubbed her back as she finally quieted down and turned to run my hair through her fingers. She tucked her head under my chin and finally fell asleep. It was then that I was reminded, that although the day was, if I'm honest, quite sad for me, there's still so much to teach and grow and learn from my girl. It has felt like the end of my favorite book (her babyhood). But this is only a new chapter. I have loved raising my Ruby. And there's still so much to go.
My word, these 5.5 years have been sweet.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Gratitude list
Today, I am grateful for:
Bright and bubbly occupational therapists
The cooling temperatures
Dappled sunlight on the street
A man who loves, even when it's hard
Turning off the AC
The bedroom window open at night
R sleeping through the night
Some calmness at work
A glimpse of the solar eclipse despite the clouds
Seeing beautiful potential for my future
Watching the door close on so much of my past
New plants to perk up my home
Huge progress for R with her physical sensitivities
Feeling the hot, wet blanket of uncertainty finally fall away
Kindergarten just around the bend and a daughter who is thrilled about it
A new, comfy bed
A friend's brand spankin' new baby - healthy and happy family of 4
Preschool teachers who have guided, encouraged, and loved my girl for 2 years
Excellent hair conditioner
Feeling proud and humbled by my sweet, smart, beautiful daughter
Her courage and excitement for Kindergarten -- and even more so for her love of learning
Acknowledging the sweat, tears, and hard-core work it takes to raise a child
Appreciating that parenting and loving our children never really ends
Anticipating a massage on Friday
Every moment of peace and joy I capture
Bright and bubbly occupational therapists
The cooling temperatures
Dappled sunlight on the street
A man who loves, even when it's hard
Turning off the AC
The bedroom window open at night
R sleeping through the night
Some calmness at work
A glimpse of the solar eclipse despite the clouds
Seeing beautiful potential for my future
Watching the door close on so much of my past
New plants to perk up my home
Huge progress for R with her physical sensitivities
Feeling the hot, wet blanket of uncertainty finally fall away
Kindergarten just around the bend and a daughter who is thrilled about it
A new, comfy bed
A friend's brand spankin' new baby - healthy and happy family of 4
Preschool teachers who have guided, encouraged, and loved my girl for 2 years
Excellent hair conditioner
Feeling proud and humbled by my sweet, smart, beautiful daughter
Her courage and excitement for Kindergarten -- and even more so for her love of learning
Acknowledging the sweat, tears, and hard-core work it takes to raise a child
Appreciating that parenting and loving our children never really ends
Anticipating a massage on Friday
Every moment of peace and joy I capture
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Gratitude List
Grateful for...
A real moment to breathe
A pretty green blouse that makes me feel beautiful
Finding humor where I couldn't before
Pay day
Watkins shea butter hand cream
My daughter (finally) mastering the monkey bars
Progress in areas of self control
The privilege of taking an afternoon off to compose myself, blast some music, and get stuff done
Summer meal: sloppy joes, steamed broccoli, corn on the cob, watermelon, strawberries, and homemade lemonade
Left-overs
Learning to enjoy mornings a little more
Techniques to help my daughter manage her worries
Always: sleepy snuggles with my little girl as the sun rises
The weekend ahead
Making fun plans
Filling my planner with action items, and getting to cross them off
Happy anticipation over food prep
My dad (Happy Father's Day!)
A flexible job
Having more vacation (and sick leave!) hours than expected
A man who loves me
Being given an option
Sunshine
Eckhart Tolle and his wisdom
The energy to read a chapter or two before bed
A real moment to breathe
A pretty green blouse that makes me feel beautiful
Finding humor where I couldn't before
Pay day
Watkins shea butter hand cream
My daughter (finally) mastering the monkey bars
Progress in areas of self control
The privilege of taking an afternoon off to compose myself, blast some music, and get stuff done
Summer meal: sloppy joes, steamed broccoli, corn on the cob, watermelon, strawberries, and homemade lemonade
Left-overs
Learning to enjoy mornings a little more
Techniques to help my daughter manage her worries
Always: sleepy snuggles with my little girl as the sun rises
The weekend ahead
Making fun plans
Filling my planner with action items, and getting to cross them off
Happy anticipation over food prep
My dad (Happy Father's Day!)
A flexible job
Having more vacation (and sick leave!) hours than expected
A man who loves me
Being given an option
Sunshine
Eckhart Tolle and his wisdom
The energy to read a chapter or two before bed
Wednesday, June 14, 2017
All my shoulds
For the last year or two, I have been working on my inner development. Growing up. Maturing. Please don't mistake me and believe me to mean "growing old." Let me be clear: I have always been old on the inside. 😂 I do not need to grow older. But I do want to become more mature. Learn to not let my emotions rule so much of my mood and life. Handle stress, relationships, and challenges with more ease. Become more thoughtful and calm. Centered. Focused. Healthy: body, mind and spirit.
In doing so, I read a lot of blogs, articles, books. Listen to podcasts and motivational speeches and TedTalks. I like to listen to people and sometimes I write down a note or two from a conversation so that I can think more on it later. I collect all these things in my brain and test things out here and there for myself.
I have a thing about growing. I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with the way I am now, and I certainly am not trying to achieve any variety of perfection, but I want to keep growing and become a better, well-rounded person. In doing so, I have realized that there are some daily habits that need to be incorporated for the continuation of my evolution; habits that are really difficult to consistently fit into the life of a full-time working, single mother.
Daily habits for growth
Cook and eat healthfully
Yoga
Stretching
Soul food (inspiration, words, connections that lift my heart)
Self care
Meditation and prayer
Time outdoors
Based on the time needed for the activities above, I need to move to part time work! Well, that is not an option and maintaining that level of dedication as well as full-time mom'ing, and a full-time career, plus extracurricular activities, relationships, and some fun... I will need to be satisfied incorporating a few of those things into each day - at least, until I win the lottery...
Based on the time needed for the activities above, I need to move to part time work! Well, that is not an option and maintaining that level of dedication as well as full-time mom'ing, and a full-time career, plus extracurricular activities, relationships, and some fun... I will need to be satisfied incorporating a few of those things into each day - at least, until I win the lottery...
Monday, June 5, 2017
Growth
Do you ever feel like you have so much growing to do that you don't have time for "real" life? I have all of these things that I want (need?) to work on: spirituality, health, home, my inner self - that there isn't time for things like work or laundry! :)
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Gratitude List
Beautiful, old music (Stand by Me, Ben E. King) that still resonates.
Uncertainty, and the ability sit with it.
Learning to remain open when things are difficult.
The opportunities to practice ↑ over and over again.
Only bumps and bruises for R after a tumble down stairs.
Remembering, again, my strengths.
The opportunities to put my strengths to practice, even if imperfectly.
A bright, intuitive daughter.
Feeling inspired.
Having a soulmate to love.
The energy and desire to read again.
Books that simultaneously teach, heal, and inspire.
Wonderful parents who love bigger than the sky.
Finding patience during uncertainty.
Blossoms raining in the streets.
Nothing but warm, summer months straight ahead.
Looking forward to 6 full days with my best girls.
The perfect shade of nail polish.
Finally believing there is more meant for me.
Feeling needed.
Shaking away energies and frequencies that don't vibe with me.
A daughter who loves ferociously.
A daily planner that aligns with my needs.
Packing lists.
The perfect chocolate cake recipe.
An open window at night.
Craving truth and losing tolerance for anything but.
Second day hair that looks better than first day hair.
Giggles and snuggles in the first morning light.
Practicing the ability to calm my racing heart.
Having so many things to be grateful for.
Uncertainty, and the ability sit with it.
Learning to remain open when things are difficult.
The opportunities to practice ↑ over and over again.
Only bumps and bruises for R after a tumble down stairs.
Remembering, again, my strengths.
The opportunities to put my strengths to practice, even if imperfectly.
A bright, intuitive daughter.
Feeling inspired.
Having a soulmate to love.
The energy and desire to read again.
Books that simultaneously teach, heal, and inspire.
Wonderful parents who love bigger than the sky.
Finding patience during uncertainty.
Blossoms raining in the streets.
Nothing but warm, summer months straight ahead.
Looking forward to 6 full days with my best girls.
The perfect shade of nail polish.
Finally believing there is more meant for me.
Feeling needed.
Shaking away energies and frequencies that don't vibe with me.
A daughter who loves ferociously.
A daily planner that aligns with my needs.
Packing lists.
The perfect chocolate cake recipe.
An open window at night.
Craving truth and losing tolerance for anything but.
Second day hair that looks better than first day hair.
Giggles and snuggles in the first morning light.
Practicing the ability to calm my racing heart.
Having so many things to be grateful for.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Highly sensitive
My little one is highly sensitive. There's no doubt. Emotionally, mentally, and physically sensitive.
On the way to school, she'll ask:
"Mom, if God made everything, who made God?"
"God has always just existed."
"Oh, ok, but who took care of him when he was a baby?"
She will ask how big Texas is and how long it takes drive there. What about fly? Could we take a boat? What about Germany? Is it bigger than Texas? How long does it take to get there? Could we go there some day?
She'll say, "Did you know Mars is red? Saturn has a ring. And Pluto used to be considered a planet but it's not anymore because it's different and a dwarf planet." On and on and on. Usually before my morning coffee.
She's the child who will hold my hand while walking through Target and out of the blue look at me to say "Mom, are you sad?" She's the kid on the playground whose heart is hurting because someone was left out. If the child is upset at all, Ruby is to the rescue. She's the one ruminating at bedtime that "A-- laughed at me today because I pronounced a word wrong. But I don't care" all the while holding her fist to her chest and her eyes melting with hurt. She's the child who will give me one of her precious jewels to "keep it in your pocket all day. So when you put your hand in your pocket you will remember me and smile."
Heaven forbid I get upset with her. You'd think the world is ending.
Did I mention she is 5 years old?
Along with all the sensitivity in the heart and mind, comes the physical sensitivity. She catalogs her injuries with great detail and scores them and checks on them, noting the rate of healing, color, scab, etc. She tries on multiple outfits in the morning, because after wearing soft, loose pajamas all night, any kind of regular clothing is "not comfortable." Often, piles of tears have been shed in the frustration and irritation of having "nothing comfortable to wear." These fits of tears irritate me endlessly but knowing this is a trait of hers and she's probably more miserable than me, I try to help her out. (Other days, I hide in the bathroom and plug my ears until she finds just the "right" leggings or I can control my irritation; whichever comes first.)
Since she was about 2 years old, people have warning me to make her tougher. "She's in for a lot of heart-ache with a heart so big." I understand their concern. I feel it too. But I'm a sensitive person as well and understand Ruby. I worry that her heart will be shattered over and over, yes. But do I want her less sensitive? Never. Never in a million years. Her curiosity and questions in that brilliant mind will serve her well. Her physical sensitivity has made her thoughtful and cautious. Her emotional sensitivity is what the world needs. People who will stop to recognize hurting eyes and help a needing friend. People who will look another in the eyes and say "me too."
I will, however, try to teach her to recognize her sensitivity and manage it. I know how huge and overwhelming emotions can get. I know how easily feelings can get hurt. But these are skills that she can and will learn and it will only serve to make her wiser and stronger. Her tender heart is not something to encase in stone; it's something to be nurtured, protected, and treasured.
My God, never change her.
On the way to school, she'll ask:
"Mom, if God made everything, who made God?"
"God has always just existed."
"Oh, ok, but who took care of him when he was a baby?"
She will ask how big Texas is and how long it takes drive there. What about fly? Could we take a boat? What about Germany? Is it bigger than Texas? How long does it take to get there? Could we go there some day?
She'll say, "Did you know Mars is red? Saturn has a ring. And Pluto used to be considered a planet but it's not anymore because it's different and a dwarf planet." On and on and on. Usually before my morning coffee.
She's the child who will hold my hand while walking through Target and out of the blue look at me to say "Mom, are you sad?" She's the kid on the playground whose heart is hurting because someone was left out. If the child is upset at all, Ruby is to the rescue. She's the one ruminating at bedtime that "A-- laughed at me today because I pronounced a word wrong. But I don't care" all the while holding her fist to her chest and her eyes melting with hurt. She's the child who will give me one of her precious jewels to "keep it in your pocket all day. So when you put your hand in your pocket you will remember me and smile."
Heaven forbid I get upset with her. You'd think the world is ending.
Did I mention she is 5 years old?
Along with all the sensitivity in the heart and mind, comes the physical sensitivity. She catalogs her injuries with great detail and scores them and checks on them, noting the rate of healing, color, scab, etc. She tries on multiple outfits in the morning, because after wearing soft, loose pajamas all night, any kind of regular clothing is "not comfortable." Often, piles of tears have been shed in the frustration and irritation of having "nothing comfortable to wear." These fits of tears irritate me endlessly but knowing this is a trait of hers and she's probably more miserable than me, I try to help her out. (Other days, I hide in the bathroom and plug my ears until she finds just the "right" leggings or I can control my irritation; whichever comes first.)
Since she was about 2 years old, people have warning me to make her tougher. "She's in for a lot of heart-ache with a heart so big." I understand their concern. I feel it too. But I'm a sensitive person as well and understand Ruby. I worry that her heart will be shattered over and over, yes. But do I want her less sensitive? Never. Never in a million years. Her curiosity and questions in that brilliant mind will serve her well. Her physical sensitivity has made her thoughtful and cautious. Her emotional sensitivity is what the world needs. People who will stop to recognize hurting eyes and help a needing friend. People who will look another in the eyes and say "me too."
I will, however, try to teach her to recognize her sensitivity and manage it. I know how huge and overwhelming emotions can get. I know how easily feelings can get hurt. But these are skills that she can and will learn and it will only serve to make her wiser and stronger. Her tender heart is not something to encase in stone; it's something to be nurtured, protected, and treasured.
My God, never change her.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Decluttering
Most weekends from the past two months found me burrowed somewhere deep in a closet or drawer, sifting through the items in my home that I neither use nor love anymore. I decided early in January that I wanted to get rid of the clutter in my home. I have a tendency to keep things, usually for sentimental value, but I can't explain away my penchant for paper. I'll write a quote, song name, or a book title on a Post It or the back of an envelope, and soon I have a stack of papers on my kitchen counter 2 feet high, whose contents I will never remember I even have.
With some book and online inspiration, I decided to shovel out my home. With our crazy schedules during the week, I decided to tackle one room per weekend. The goal was to go through everything. Every last spoon and ladle and ineffective bottle of shampoo and underwear. I took out several trash bins of garbage and had an overloaded car of donations. I had a few bags of hand-me-downs for a friend and my home feels lighter.
Of note was cleaning out my papers. I had years worth of statements and bills to sift through (fell a bit behind on filing!). Horrifyingly, I had a small file cabinet with magazine articles, quotes, notes, random journal entries, recipes, poems, lyrics, short essays to go through. This file cabinet contained over 10 years of scraps that meant something to me at the time of collection. I went through every piece of paper and if it still spoke to me, I kept it. Most of it went in the trash. The memories flooded me. From certain pieces of paper, I could remember the exact moment I found it and decided to save it. Other scraps left me a bit puzzled. It was a bit like watching myself grow up... and heal.
The process was so cleansing - not only of my home - but the clutter in my head. I feel lighter. It's been somewhat of a challenge to restrain myself from going wild with redecorating and filling up the empty spaces again. But I've withheld. I don't want to be a consumer just to consume. I want my purchasing to be thoughtful and I want my home to be filled only with lovely things that reflect us. So, I'm enjoying our space now. As is.
With some book and online inspiration, I decided to shovel out my home. With our crazy schedules during the week, I decided to tackle one room per weekend. The goal was to go through everything. Every last spoon and ladle and ineffective bottle of shampoo and underwear. I took out several trash bins of garbage and had an overloaded car of donations. I had a few bags of hand-me-downs for a friend and my home feels lighter.
Of note was cleaning out my papers. I had years worth of statements and bills to sift through (fell a bit behind on filing!). Horrifyingly, I had a small file cabinet with magazine articles, quotes, notes, random journal entries, recipes, poems, lyrics, short essays to go through. This file cabinet contained over 10 years of scraps that meant something to me at the time of collection. I went through every piece of paper and if it still spoke to me, I kept it. Most of it went in the trash. The memories flooded me. From certain pieces of paper, I could remember the exact moment I found it and decided to save it. Other scraps left me a bit puzzled. It was a bit like watching myself grow up... and heal.
The process was so cleansing - not only of my home - but the clutter in my head. I feel lighter. It's been somewhat of a challenge to restrain myself from going wild with redecorating and filling up the empty spaces again. But I've withheld. I don't want to be a consumer just to consume. I want my purchasing to be thoughtful and I want my home to be filled only with lovely things that reflect us. So, I'm enjoying our space now. As is.
Friday, March 24, 2017
Love your neighbor
Have you been following the news? I try not to. My heart sinks to my shoes when I do and I feel so disgusted and fearful afterwards that I get a news hangover. All the drama that is happening in the world right now and right in our own country are enough to leave me sleepless. I believe our country has not seen this kind of unrest and turmoil in decades, and Americans are so accustomed to observing "other" people's issues on their televisions that we became complacent. Now, it's here. It's not even knocking on our door anymore! It's here and it's currently sitting on the couch, with the feet on the coffee table while reading the news.
Deep, deep troubles.
I think often about the stem of these troubles, not just American troubles, but across the globe. A lot of it has to do with money and power. Religion fuels much of the conflict as well. But I think there is a baser root to it and I'm still trying to determine what it is. I think it's something along the lines of superiority or worthiness or self-righteousness... but I can't pinpoint it exactly.
Why are people power-hungry? What is it about power that people get? Control, certainly. Status. Often wealth, stigma. But a person wouldn't need power if they didn't have some superiority goal, if they didn't have the need to be on top of the pile.
Same goes with money. Money, to many people, means freedom, power, status, superiority. Especially in the Western world, people tend to value a wealthy person's life over a poor person's. But what does that really mean? Why is the wealthy person deemed more valuable? Because of his economic contribution?
Religion. I have to admit that my stomach rolls a bit at the topic of religion lately. So many Christians in my own country who profess to love and value life, humanity, human rights, the blessings God has bestowed upon us are the very same people who decry the value of a brown-skinned life. Who denounce the rights of women. Who defile the earth on which we live. Who hesitate not in the least at waging war. I feel stunned at the bold hypocrisy.
There's so much hatred. It reverberates from the news, social media, even in the streets. The common theme through so much of it is that anyone who is different than me is to be feared and hated. In my mind, this is so much more than an economic, safety, cultural, or racial issue. There is an element of alarmist mentality and from every outlet it's "Us vs. Them."
We've become our own worst enemies - even though we think it's "them." It's our own rotting heart that is the enemy.
In my eyes, it's a root issue of the heart and all of these other issues are manifested because of it. The core of the human heart of humanity is corroded. There's a false sense of "us" and "them" and with that comes the notion that one is better than the other, the notion of superiority. It's ludicrous that there is some hierarchy to humanity: White men>white women? white men>black men? white women>black women? straight/cisgender>LGBTQ? Christian>Muslims? On and on ad nauseam...
It's all bullshit. It makes me angry. My question is: what makes "us" so great? What makes "us" SO MUCH better than "them"? What makes our lives SO MUCH more valuable than theirs? The truth is: nothing. You may not need to agree with them – but for God's sake – respect them. Value their life. Accept and tolerate their existence just as someone who disagrees with you accepts and tolerates your miserable existence. Who are we to say that we are better/more important/more valuable than the next person or group? Superior much? Bloated ego? Afraid? Powerful or powerless? What is it? What is that nugget of evil that lives in people that makes this our current reality?
Radical idea here: instead of collectively stepping on them, what if we wrapped our arms around them and collectively lifted them up. Helped to raise them up to their highest potential. The only thing happens is that we all win.
Here's a secret: there is no "them."
In high school band class, the band teacher said that a band is only as good as it's worst player. The quality of the music depended on every person in that band and that included the poorest performer. The music would never be more beautiful than that worst player could play. Newsflash: that's true for every group of performers, people, cultures, everything. That's humanity, people! We (humanity) will never be more than the poorest, sickest, most neglected people on earth, because we are a collective. There is no "them." The beauty of our world, human nature, love, life will never be more beautiful than the "least" of us. When we lift up the disadvantaged, down-trodden, poor, sick, discriminated, we are lifting ourselves up. And if we can't lift "them" up, for God's sake, don't kick "them" down.
I know, completely idealist notion, but it's what my heart knows is right. My heart and soul rebels wildly at the fear and judgments pervading our society. I mentally search myself to see what I can do to make things a little less hateful, a little less scary. All I know to do is love.
Deep, deep troubles.
I think often about the stem of these troubles, not just American troubles, but across the globe. A lot of it has to do with money and power. Religion fuels much of the conflict as well. But I think there is a baser root to it and I'm still trying to determine what it is. I think it's something along the lines of superiority or worthiness or self-righteousness... but I can't pinpoint it exactly.
Why are people power-hungry? What is it about power that people get? Control, certainly. Status. Often wealth, stigma. But a person wouldn't need power if they didn't have some superiority goal, if they didn't have the need to be on top of the pile.
Same goes with money. Money, to many people, means freedom, power, status, superiority. Especially in the Western world, people tend to value a wealthy person's life over a poor person's. But what does that really mean? Why is the wealthy person deemed more valuable? Because of his economic contribution?
Religion. I have to admit that my stomach rolls a bit at the topic of religion lately. So many Christians in my own country who profess to love and value life, humanity, human rights, the blessings God has bestowed upon us are the very same people who decry the value of a brown-skinned life. Who denounce the rights of women. Who defile the earth on which we live. Who hesitate not in the least at waging war. I feel stunned at the bold hypocrisy.
There's so much hatred. It reverberates from the news, social media, even in the streets. The common theme through so much of it is that anyone who is different than me is to be feared and hated. In my mind, this is so much more than an economic, safety, cultural, or racial issue. There is an element of alarmist mentality and from every outlet it's "Us vs. Them."
We've become our own worst enemies - even though we think it's "them." It's our own rotting heart that is the enemy.
In my eyes, it's a root issue of the heart and all of these other issues are manifested because of it. The core of the human heart of humanity is corroded. There's a false sense of "us" and "them" and with that comes the notion that one is better than the other, the notion of superiority. It's ludicrous that there is some hierarchy to humanity: White men>white women? white men>black men? white women>black women? straight/cisgender>LGBTQ? Christian>Muslims? On and on ad nauseam...
It's all bullshit. It makes me angry. My question is: what makes "us" so great? What makes "us" SO MUCH better than "them"? What makes our lives SO MUCH more valuable than theirs? The truth is: nothing. You may not need to agree with them – but for God's sake – respect them. Value their life. Accept and tolerate their existence just as someone who disagrees with you accepts and tolerates your miserable existence. Who are we to say that we are better/more important/more valuable than the next person or group? Superior much? Bloated ego? Afraid? Powerful or powerless? What is it? What is that nugget of evil that lives in people that makes this our current reality?
Radical idea here: instead of collectively stepping on them, what if we wrapped our arms around them and collectively lifted them up. Helped to raise them up to their highest potential. The only thing happens is that we all win.
Here's a secret: there is no "them."
In high school band class, the band teacher said that a band is only as good as it's worst player. The quality of the music depended on every person in that band and that included the poorest performer. The music would never be more beautiful than that worst player could play. Newsflash: that's true for every group of performers, people, cultures, everything. That's humanity, people! We (humanity) will never be more than the poorest, sickest, most neglected people on earth, because we are a collective. There is no "them." The beauty of our world, human nature, love, life will never be more beautiful than the "least" of us. When we lift up the disadvantaged, down-trodden, poor, sick, discriminated, we are lifting ourselves up. And if we can't lift "them" up, for God's sake, don't kick "them" down.
I know, completely idealist notion, but it's what my heart knows is right. My heart and soul rebels wildly at the fear and judgments pervading our society. I mentally search myself to see what I can do to make things a little less hateful, a little less scary. All I know to do is love.
Mark 12:31: "The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these."
Thursday, March 9, 2017
Parenting
Recently, I was having a conversation with loved ones about parenting. Parenting is a beloved topic of conversation for me because I have realized from my life experiences how much my parents and the way they parented me molded me into who I am today. It's a curious thing - how much is nature and how much is nurture and I find myself thinking about it often.
This particular conversation, I was expressing some frustration about the mentality some people have about parenting. I try desperately not to be a judgy-mom, however, there is one particular issue that I cannot get my head around: the disengaged or "not my problem" parent. For example, the notorious parents who defend their child, who is known to bully other children. They stand in the principals office denying their child would ever be so cruel, and then go home and turn a glazed eye to the fact that the same child is tormenting his siblings. These parents... ugh, I have issues with.
My philosophy on parenting is this: As a parent, your job is to prepare your child to grow up to be a resourceful, contributing, happy person. This means teaching them everything: say hello, wipe their noses, handle the mean kid, ask for a job, find happiness, to love, and even scramble an egg. In my mind, everything that makes up a well-rounded adult needs to be taught, even the things like finding happiness and loving someone well need to be taught. Everything you do and don't do contributes to your child's success (whatever your definition of success may be) later on in life. Too often people underestimate the mundane things. For example:
Ruby has always been an extraordinarily trustworthy child. If I tell her no treats, I could leave the kitchen table piled high with every sweet you could think of and she would not touch one. Even at her grandparents house, if they offer her a treat, she knows to get approval from me first. Recently, when we arrived home one evening, I was distractedly putting away my things and Ruby was doing her thing. Then she announced "I just need some time alone for a while" and hurried off to her room and closed the door. Warning bells fired off in my brain because this was so uncharacteristic of her. She never needs time alone and she never closes her bedroom door. I immediately went to her room and pushed the door open. She was sitting with her back to the door, and a left-over treat from the evening before broken open on the carpet in front of her and her eyes grew big as she stared at me with guilt, her mouth crammed full of candy.
I knew in that moment that there was a huge lesson for us both to learn and I scrambled through my jumbled thoughts, frantically searching for the answer, searching for the perfect way to resolve this in the fraction of a second. I knew that moment presented me with a situation that would lay the bar for similar situations for years to come: sneaking, lying, hiding information, and all of the other related maladies.
I handled that situation, calmly, and the only way I knew in that moment. I don't know if I did the right thing or if that memory will stick with Ruby as much as it does with me. But, we haven't had any further issues. I think how, when coming home from a long day with a long list of chores to do, it could be so easy to just brush it off. Ignore the warning bells in my brain and not act on it. Just ignore it. Disengage. I then think how quickly kids learn, and how quickly things like that can morph into issues so much bigger. Candy today, iPods in 5 years, cars in 10 years?
Perhaps that sounds a bit dramatic. It was just a little candy, right? She's only 5, right? Well, I believe it all starts somewhere. My job as Ruby's mother is to prepare her to be a successful adult, it just seems too important to ignore. I'm not interested to see what other paths Ruby could take because I'm a little tired and too inconvenienced to be bothered by it.
I observe people. What they say and don't say. What they do and don't do. I spent my 20's watching the people around me raise children and I grew a lot of ideas. I don't have the answers but I have some observations and ideas packed away in my brain. And I have my gut.
This particular conversation, I was expressing some frustration about the mentality some people have about parenting. I try desperately not to be a judgy-mom, however, there is one particular issue that I cannot get my head around: the disengaged or "not my problem" parent. For example, the notorious parents who defend their child, who is known to bully other children. They stand in the principals office denying their child would ever be so cruel, and then go home and turn a glazed eye to the fact that the same child is tormenting his siblings. These parents... ugh, I have issues with.
My philosophy on parenting is this: As a parent, your job is to prepare your child to grow up to be a resourceful, contributing, happy person. This means teaching them everything: say hello, wipe their noses, handle the mean kid, ask for a job, find happiness, to love, and even scramble an egg. In my mind, everything that makes up a well-rounded adult needs to be taught, even the things like finding happiness and loving someone well need to be taught. Everything you do and don't do contributes to your child's success (whatever your definition of success may be) later on in life. Too often people underestimate the mundane things. For example:
Ruby has always been an extraordinarily trustworthy child. If I tell her no treats, I could leave the kitchen table piled high with every sweet you could think of and she would not touch one. Even at her grandparents house, if they offer her a treat, she knows to get approval from me first. Recently, when we arrived home one evening, I was distractedly putting away my things and Ruby was doing her thing. Then she announced "I just need some time alone for a while" and hurried off to her room and closed the door. Warning bells fired off in my brain because this was so uncharacteristic of her. She never needs time alone and she never closes her bedroom door. I immediately went to her room and pushed the door open. She was sitting with her back to the door, and a left-over treat from the evening before broken open on the carpet in front of her and her eyes grew big as she stared at me with guilt, her mouth crammed full of candy.
I knew in that moment that there was a huge lesson for us both to learn and I scrambled through my jumbled thoughts, frantically searching for the answer, searching for the perfect way to resolve this in the fraction of a second. I knew that moment presented me with a situation that would lay the bar for similar situations for years to come: sneaking, lying, hiding information, and all of the other related maladies.
I handled that situation, calmly, and the only way I knew in that moment. I don't know if I did the right thing or if that memory will stick with Ruby as much as it does with me. But, we haven't had any further issues. I think how, when coming home from a long day with a long list of chores to do, it could be so easy to just brush it off. Ignore the warning bells in my brain and not act on it. Just ignore it. Disengage. I then think how quickly kids learn, and how quickly things like that can morph into issues so much bigger. Candy today, iPods in 5 years, cars in 10 years?
Perhaps that sounds a bit dramatic. It was just a little candy, right? She's only 5, right? Well, I believe it all starts somewhere. My job as Ruby's mother is to prepare her to be a successful adult, it just seems too important to ignore. I'm not interested to see what other paths Ruby could take because I'm a little tired and too inconvenienced to be bothered by it.
I observe people. What they say and don't say. What they do and don't do. I spent my 20's watching the people around me raise children and I grew a lot of ideas. I don't have the answers but I have some observations and ideas packed away in my brain. And I have my gut.
Friday, February 3, 2017
Writing
I love words. I love them. I love how people have "voices" in the written word and I love how certain people can craft the most perfect sentence that it sends literal shivers down my spine. Or better yet, when I feel like a whole new area of my brain opened up from a simple sentence or idea.
I want to write. I've been told I write much like I speak. (It is what it is.) I want to write more. I want to write creatively. I want to write a book. But when I think about what I want to write about, I feel like I don't have enough to say to fill a blog post much less a full book. Then, there are countless sleepless nights where my brain is spinning so hard and fast, I swear smoke is coming from my ears. There are moments with special people, when I feel at ease and comfortable and I have so many ideas and so much to say that there aren't enough hours in the night, or wine in the house, to get all of it out of me.
Then, I prepare to write. I stare blankly at my screen and every intelligible thought running through my head has suddenly disappeared. Where have all my thoughts gone? For the longest time, I anguished over this. Why is there this need in me to write and why, when I try to write, I can't find anything to say?
Today, I realized what the problem is: fear. I am afraid that my thoughts and words are not profound 'enough.' I am afraid that I will be tied to those words forever: that those words are absolute truth for me, forever. When the truth is: I am a constantly evolving, learning, changing being and I can change my mind. I can see things from another view. I can learn and decide that maybe I wasn't right. Sometimes, I am afraid I will be judged. I have thin skin and criticism hurts, and I do not actively seek out pain. Writing whatever is in my head and heart and putting it "out there" is almost actively seeking pain.
Still... I want to write.
I want to write. I've been told I write much like I speak. (It is what it is.) I want to write more. I want to write creatively. I want to write a book. But when I think about what I want to write about, I feel like I don't have enough to say to fill a blog post much less a full book. Then, there are countless sleepless nights where my brain is spinning so hard and fast, I swear smoke is coming from my ears. There are moments with special people, when I feel at ease and comfortable and I have so many ideas and so much to say that there aren't enough hours in the night, or wine in the house, to get all of it out of me.
Then, I prepare to write. I stare blankly at my screen and every intelligible thought running through my head has suddenly disappeared. Where have all my thoughts gone? For the longest time, I anguished over this. Why is there this need in me to write and why, when I try to write, I can't find anything to say?
Today, I realized what the problem is: fear. I am afraid that my thoughts and words are not profound 'enough.' I am afraid that I will be tied to those words forever: that those words are absolute truth for me, forever. When the truth is: I am a constantly evolving, learning, changing being and I can change my mind. I can see things from another view. I can learn and decide that maybe I wasn't right. Sometimes, I am afraid I will be judged. I have thin skin and criticism hurts, and I do not actively seek out pain. Writing whatever is in my head and heart and putting it "out there" is almost actively seeking pain.
Still... I want to write.
Friday, January 13, 2017
Thursday, January 12, 2017
And that's why I love you
Ruby is in her third year of dance class. This fall she was, again, in a class for 3/4 year olds and it was clear she was not being challenged and losing interest. So, I signed her up for the 5/6 year old class for this spring semester.
The thing about Ruby is that it seems music speaks to her. Maybe it does with all kids, I don't know. She loves to dance and feels music in her body. She has rhythm and learns choreography incredibly easy. She memorizes words to songs after hearing them 2 or 3 times. She blooms with music. She has much more interest in it than I have ever had and there has been more than a couple of occasions where I pick her up at school and she is dancing in the middle of a circle of friends and parents watching her.
Last night, she had her first class with the 5 to 6 year olds (Ruby turns 5 in a few days). She was a tad nervous, as she didn't know any of the other kids or the dance instructor. I was grateful as the instructor saw her nervousness and asked the other kids to introduce themselves to Ruby, which they did shyly. When they began dancing, all I could think was "UH. OH." The ballet moves were intricate with names neither Ruby or I had ever heard before. The footwork was complex and my stomach flopped, thinking I'd made another parenting mistake. I also worried that Ruby would get frustrated and give up, as she can sometimes be a perfectionist. But, I continued to nervously watch.
Ruby's eyes never left her instructor. The first few tries, she would mess up her step or forget to point her toes, but she watched her instructor and try again and soon enough she had it. Her eyes literally did not leave her instructor. She would watch so hard, that if another kid moved in her line of vision, Ruby would move up to stand directly next to her teacher so her view would not be obstructed. She was glued. At one point, they were doing a "ballet obstacle course" with a series of four ballet "moves" (I'm not a ballerina and am still earning the terminology) in sequence. These moves would be difficult for me to do without some practice - and there was my daughter, in line with all of these bigger girls, stumbling, struggling at times, but smiling... working hard and focusing intently... Then the song "True Colors" (by Justin Timberlake and Anna Kendrick—Trolls, Ruby's favorite) played - and I watched my girl working so hard, the tears just came.
It wasn't that Ruby did so well. It wasn't that my daughter is a dancer. It certainly wasn't that some dreams of mine are being fulfilled.
It was seeing her joy, her focus and concentration, her hard work. The small smile of satisfaction she had when she did the move right and persistence to get the next one right. I was so proud of her.
Bloom, honey. Bloom.
The thing about Ruby is that it seems music speaks to her. Maybe it does with all kids, I don't know. She loves to dance and feels music in her body. She has rhythm and learns choreography incredibly easy. She memorizes words to songs after hearing them 2 or 3 times. She blooms with music. She has much more interest in it than I have ever had and there has been more than a couple of occasions where I pick her up at school and she is dancing in the middle of a circle of friends and parents watching her.
Last night, she had her first class with the 5 to 6 year olds (Ruby turns 5 in a few days). She was a tad nervous, as she didn't know any of the other kids or the dance instructor. I was grateful as the instructor saw her nervousness and asked the other kids to introduce themselves to Ruby, which they did shyly. When they began dancing, all I could think was "UH. OH." The ballet moves were intricate with names neither Ruby or I had ever heard before. The footwork was complex and my stomach flopped, thinking I'd made another parenting mistake. I also worried that Ruby would get frustrated and give up, as she can sometimes be a perfectionist. But, I continued to nervously watch.
Ruby's eyes never left her instructor. The first few tries, she would mess up her step or forget to point her toes, but she watched her instructor and try again and soon enough she had it. Her eyes literally did not leave her instructor. She would watch so hard, that if another kid moved in her line of vision, Ruby would move up to stand directly next to her teacher so her view would not be obstructed. She was glued. At one point, they were doing a "ballet obstacle course" with a series of four ballet "moves" (I'm not a ballerina and am still earning the terminology) in sequence. These moves would be difficult for me to do without some practice - and there was my daughter, in line with all of these bigger girls, stumbling, struggling at times, but smiling... working hard and focusing intently... Then the song "True Colors" (by Justin Timberlake and Anna Kendrick—Trolls, Ruby's favorite) played - and I watched my girl working so hard, the tears just came.
It wasn't that Ruby did so well. It wasn't that my daughter is a dancer. It certainly wasn't that some dreams of mine are being fulfilled.
It was seeing her joy, her focus and concentration, her hard work. The small smile of satisfaction she had when she did the move right and persistence to get the next one right. I was so proud of her.
Bloom, honey. Bloom.
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside of you
Can make you feel so small
But I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Friday, January 6, 2017
Recently, there was a story in the news about a newborn baby found in the St. Paul Cathedral. A cathedral worker found the brand new baby, the baby was later named after him. The police who responded had gone to buy the baby pajamas and blankets after the baby was brought to the hospital. The baby has been turned over to DHS and will hopefully be adopted by a loving family.
The mother... I think about her. I think about how she is healing, and what circumstances brought her to leave her baby at the cathedral. I think about her heart and I hope she is not hurting so badly. I am tempted to go on about how brutal life can be. Circumstances forcing women to make choices like that... I think of the families torn apart at Aleppo and a million other places in the world... but then, I cannot bear it. I cannot bear to think of all the babies and children in this world who do not have safe, content homes to grow up in. I want to take all of them and love them and raise them. (Then I remember hissing for the 100th time at Ruby this morning to get dressed, ready to rip my hair out. Some realism for breakfast, maybe.) It disturbs me so deep in my bones, all of these children who bear too much, who are scared too much, who hurt too much and I could wail at the injustice of it.
It's so awful. I feel like there's something there, in my empathy that is calling me to do something. But I don't know what it is. I don't know what to do with my hurt or where it goes. So, I think of Mother Teresa's response to how we can promote world peace: "Go home and love your family." Now, there's a start...
http://www.startribune.com/newborn-boy-left-in-laundry-basket-at-st-paul-cathedral/409784895/
The mother... I think about her. I think about how she is healing, and what circumstances brought her to leave her baby at the cathedral. I think about her heart and I hope she is not hurting so badly. I am tempted to go on about how brutal life can be. Circumstances forcing women to make choices like that... I think of the families torn apart at Aleppo and a million other places in the world... but then, I cannot bear it. I cannot bear to think of all the babies and children in this world who do not have safe, content homes to grow up in. I want to take all of them and love them and raise them. (Then I remember hissing for the 100th time at Ruby this morning to get dressed, ready to rip my hair out. Some realism for breakfast, maybe.) It disturbs me so deep in my bones, all of these children who bear too much, who are scared too much, who hurt too much and I could wail at the injustice of it.
It's so awful. I feel like there's something there, in my empathy that is calling me to do something. But I don't know what it is. I don't know what to do with my hurt or where it goes. So, I think of Mother Teresa's response to how we can promote world peace: "Go home and love your family." Now, there's a start...
http://www.startribune.com/newborn-boy-left-in-laundry-basket-at-st-paul-cathedral/409784895/
2016 in review
At the start of 2016, I could feel a change coming, personally. I won't even begin to discuss the year 2016 in anything other than a personal way, as the events of 2016 globally require too many words, too many thoughts, and too much heartache for me to bear. But personally, 2016 was a year headed towards path unknown to me.
A few different things lead towards this shift for me: a settling of legal issues regarding Ruby, a new relationship, events at my work that meant I either change or leave, and a renewed hunger to create this life I feel in my heart and dream about, but for so many reasons have not created.
I began the year without resolutions but with a fistful of ideas and hope. I knew most of the "external" events in my life would evolve organically, as those things tend to do. It was my internal voice and direction that needed some work. So in January, I began an online class, Living Brave, by Brene Brown. It was a full semester, with the first half focused on her book Daring Greatly, and the second half of the semester focused on her book Rising Strong. If you've never heard of Brene or read the books, the basic gist is this: To live a brave and beautiful life, you have to be vulnerable (Daring Greatly). In being vulnerable, inevitably you will crash. Rising Strong is exactly about that: how to rise strong when you've been vulnerable and crashed and to find the courage to Dare Greatly again.
The class was no joke. Never have taken her class before, I expected less work and more "fluff." It turned out to be a lot of work, a lot of emotional "heavy lifting," writing, and more tears than I ever dreamed. But it was so worth it! I learned a ton about myself and healed some dusty corners of my heart that I didn't know needed healing. I learned a ton... and then soon came to the realization that knowledge is one thing, but putting the knowledge to work takes a ton of practice. So, I've been practicing. I've been practicing being vulnerable and I've been practicing rising strong.
Emotionally, I feel a huge shift in myself. I feel more grown up. More mature, even though my actions can sometimes betray the newfound maturity (practicing!). I feel softer, yet braver. Although so much of it feels new to me, and I go back to review my work and remember the lessons, I feel calmer. I have an innate (it feels innate) understanding that I didn't have before and it makes me feel a bit more confident. By innate, I mean so many times through the course, it was like remembering something you already knew, instead of learning something fresh. Brene commented on that several times, and I paraphrase: "You know this in your heart, but because of life circumstances and survival and the emotional guards and tactics we learn, the innate knowledge is lost."
Such good stuff. I am so glad I took the class!
In 2017, I am taking another Brene class called "The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting: A Wholehearted Revolution." So anxious to begin...
A few different things lead towards this shift for me: a settling of legal issues regarding Ruby, a new relationship, events at my work that meant I either change or leave, and a renewed hunger to create this life I feel in my heart and dream about, but for so many reasons have not created.
I began the year without resolutions but with a fistful of ideas and hope. I knew most of the "external" events in my life would evolve organically, as those things tend to do. It was my internal voice and direction that needed some work. So in January, I began an online class, Living Brave, by Brene Brown. It was a full semester, with the first half focused on her book Daring Greatly, and the second half of the semester focused on her book Rising Strong. If you've never heard of Brene or read the books, the basic gist is this: To live a brave and beautiful life, you have to be vulnerable (Daring Greatly). In being vulnerable, inevitably you will crash. Rising Strong is exactly about that: how to rise strong when you've been vulnerable and crashed and to find the courage to Dare Greatly again.
The class was no joke. Never have taken her class before, I expected less work and more "fluff." It turned out to be a lot of work, a lot of emotional "heavy lifting," writing, and more tears than I ever dreamed. But it was so worth it! I learned a ton about myself and healed some dusty corners of my heart that I didn't know needed healing. I learned a ton... and then soon came to the realization that knowledge is one thing, but putting the knowledge to work takes a ton of practice. So, I've been practicing. I've been practicing being vulnerable and I've been practicing rising strong.
Emotionally, I feel a huge shift in myself. I feel more grown up. More mature, even though my actions can sometimes betray the newfound maturity (practicing!). I feel softer, yet braver. Although so much of it feels new to me, and I go back to review my work and remember the lessons, I feel calmer. I have an innate (it feels innate) understanding that I didn't have before and it makes me feel a bit more confident. By innate, I mean so many times through the course, it was like remembering something you already knew, instead of learning something fresh. Brene commented on that several times, and I paraphrase: "You know this in your heart, but because of life circumstances and survival and the emotional guards and tactics we learn, the innate knowledge is lost."
Such good stuff. I am so glad I took the class!
In 2017, I am taking another Brene class called "The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting: A Wholehearted Revolution." So anxious to begin...
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