I'm that Mom

For the Blog Carnival inspired by Flo Gascon .. started by Ronnie Sundance Maier and fueled by super inspiring mom's and dad's around the globe!



I'm that mom

... who birthed her babies at home cause it felt like a good idea

.. who nursed her baby near every two hours for the first three years of his life cause it was just what he needed

.. who jumps in puddles when it rains even without waterproof foot wear on just cause it looks so tempting

.. who smokes pretend cigarettes with her kids cause such a big idea is clearly worth exploring in the most authenticate of ways 

.. who piles dishes on the counter when the dishwasher is full cause tickle backs on in high demand

.. who pulls out a ladder and holds it steady cause someone wonders if an egg dropped from the roof on to the grass will break

.. who bakes cakes, even if they are simply for the purpose of decoration and never actually get eaten cause the inspiration arises

.. who buys four cans of whip cream cause one is never enough

.. who is willing to pass back a cup/bottle/bowl for peeing in when pulling over is impossible cause sometimes holding it in just is way to hard

.. who watches from the sidelines while holding smaller hands cause she knows that participation comes in all sizes and shapes

... who watches way more disney channel shows then she might choose cause it means sitting beside someone I adore

.. who snuggles under the blankets and tells more then one bedtime story cause sometimes sleep can be elusive

And Yes I am that Mom, who would rather have others judge, laugh or shake their head at her then disappoint, embarrass or belittle her children (or anyone's children really).

Unconditional

As we are looking to build our tribe of local friendships and connection we are spending more time around unfamiliar folks and witnessing a wide array of parenting preferences. Lately, the one thing that has really slapped me up side the head, is the true burden some folks feel in taking on this big job of parenting. 

This idea got me to wondering, I mean for the vast majority of folks they did choose to invite this human being in to the world. And again, for a large percentage it was cause they were crazy in love with their partner and wanted to make another human being out of that love. And from what I know for certain about babies they arrive in this world as nothing sort of a pure unconditional love. From day one, that is simply what they have to offer up, pure unaltered not tampered with or damaged unconditional love.  A rather powerful drug that makes parents fall head over heels in love. 

So if we have these people who are in love and they make this person that is pure love, where is the point that the child becomes this manipulative little being who is out to make their parents life challenging? Where is the turning point that the child stops being unconditional love and becomes devious and in need of discipling or reshaping? 

I imagine it could be at the point when they start to push a parents buttons and in doing so encourage this parent to turn inward and have a look at what is going on for them. Cause really, for a child to be spoiled wouldn't that mean at some point they were rotten? And if they were rotten wouldn't that mean at some point the scales began to tip from good to bad? In order for that tipping moment to emerge from a being that was pure unconditional love when it arrived one would have to argue it had something to due with the environment the unconditional love was being nurtured in. And if this is truly the case we present, how in the name of any powerful being can that be the fault or the responsibility of the child. They were the one who was invited in to this world after all and showed up wrapped in unconditional love. 

I vividly remember a moment in my life when an subtle internal shift occurred that opened an even deeper well of unconditional love with in me for my children. It was late in the night and my 2 year old had woken me again to nurse (for the first three years of his life this happened nearly every 2 hours) I turned to him with frustration. I heard a stream of stories and advice pouring in to my mind about how he was manipulating me, I should have trained him out of this by now etc. You know what I saw in return, a smile. A smile that radiated that pure untainted love he had for me. I recognized in that moment that that was all he ever had to offer me. It was at the heart of our every interaction. How in the world could I meet that with anything but the same pure and free love. 

I try my best to have a huge amount of compassion for the chest puffed father asserting his power over his children in the park, in a manner that belittles, shames and embarrasses them. I suspect he is responding to the world around him that encourages this sort of dominance as evidence that he is doing a "good job" as a parent. And I offer a smile to the frazzled mother in the grocery store who is threatening her children  in a public manner cause I suspect she has bought in to the idea that a good parent keeps their children quiet in order to not disturb those around her, who by the way don't have an ounce of unconditional love for her. 

I still don't think it's okay though. I wonder about a world that accepts and makes it okay, to take unconditional love, manipulate it or train it or discipline it and then turn around and blame the results of that on the person who arrived invited offering nothing but that unconditional love. 

Cause your just as important as I am

Just the other day the boys and I were at home doing our thing. We were having what the boys call "a home day." It is what they ask for quite regularly to integrate new experiences, information and ideas in to their world.

I was starting to cook up some food for dinner and the boys were lounging in my bed, watching Disney channel. When off in the distance I heard the high pitched screaming of a child. The child was screaming "no, no, no, no," repeatedly in a desperate sort of manner. To say it broke my heart was an understatement. Now I took a moment to ground myself in the knowing that I hadn't a clue of what was going on or what the parent and child interaction looked like and to cultivate compassion for all parties involved in this heart wrenching altercation. And then it went on and on and on and on. I scoped the areas close to my home, in hopes of catching the interaction and offering a smile, or hand if it looked safe. However, I could not get a visual on the heart broken child. So I stood on my deck and I cried. I cried for the child who was so obviously asserting their desire for something to stop and I cried for the adult who wasn't able to hear that see that or meet the child's need.

Later in the evening, the boys and I were discussing what I had heard and how I so desperately wished I could help out. Mitchel so wisely said, "Ya but the parent might not have liked that." This caused me to pause before offering up a response. To me, the child is just as important as the adult and if I can show up and simply offer a smile that breaks the moment or let's the child know their is an adult in the world who recognizes them in their distress, that's enough.  I think he got that for the most part. But me I kept on thinking.

How often in our world do we over hear parents talking about their children using negative language? How often do we hear parents discussing funny or embarrassing moments right their in front of their obviously uncomfortable children? I think this sends a subtle, quiet message that us grown ups are far more important then children. I mean heck really this is only the tip of the iceberg in the number of ways this message is given to children over and over and over again in mainstream society.

This whole ideas has always baffled me, from childhood, through University and in to parenting.  My wondering is this, is respect something you have to earn? Or is it something you give freely to those around you in order to be open to receiving it right back at you? And what is the magical age by which you arrive that gives you "power" over others? Is it your right as an adult to then make up for all those years you wished someone would listen to you or take you seriously by disrespecting and holding power over younger smaller people?

I am thankful for that fact that I have always questioned the value of one age group over another. I truly believe it is the driving force behind how I came to know the little people I was blessed to work with in a number of "work" situations. I remember once, a mother saying to me, "I wanted you to work with my child because you always bend down to talk to her at eye level." What was shocking here was two part, the first being I had no conscious clue that this is what I was doing. And secondly, that others around me weren't.

When I first met my boys it made sense to me that their will and desire was on par with mine. It was one of those things that came from with in.  I was surrounded during my early parenting years by parents who were desperate to have their children sleep, who were using anything from Ferber to the Baby whisperer to make this happen. I just could not bring myself to get in the way of what ever need it was that my young sons had that waked them. I mean come on we spent our ever waking moment wrapped up in each other, why suddenly when the lights went out would they want to be separated from me for 10-12 hours. I struggled in the face of others who cringed at my nursing toddlers, somewhere in me I knew their need to receive nourishment from physical contact with me was just as important as my need to for personal space.

For me a huge part of honoring my children's importance lies in the place where I take them seriously.  A few days back, Makinley announced "I am going to work in a toothpaste factory when I grow up." There are many a response I could have come back with that discouraged this any thing from, "you won't get rich doing that" to out right laughter would have crushed his very in the moment determination. Instead, I listened and took him quite seriously. To which he explained, "and mom I am going to ask my boss if I can bring some toothpaste home for you so you won't have to buy it anymore. I hope I can be the guy who puts the cap on at the end."  Wow, he had given this some careful consideration and was asserting his dreams, hopes and ideas about the future while also considering my economical needs. This was a tender sharing by a young person who's dreams are just as important as mine.

As I move through the challenges of parenting I am continually called to bite my tongue to keep my thoughts and ideas quiet while holding my children in space that is as valuable as my own. Cause sure I can apologize later for the mistakes I make (cause there are plenty of those) but grander are the moments when I can keep my internal dialogue to myself while  holding my child in the space that reflects how we are equally important in this world!

Anger

Anger is one of those emotions that really, really, really triggers me. Whether it be the anger of an adult thrown my way that I feel the need to duck and hide from or the explosive anger of my child that I feel the need to manage, it triggers me. 

My oldest son feels things in a big way. Ever since he was born, when he is pissed off, it comes out with what to the external observer can appear to be rather violent. As he gets bigger things have started to look scarier. And for some reason the scarier they look the more I feel the need to get in the way of it all and manage it. Even though in my rational mind, I know for sure when he is in the place that makes him through a Wii controller across the room, he most certainly can not hear a thing I have to say. And if he is yelling and throwing things about his room, me yelling back is not the thing that is going to restore any sort of peace. 

Just yesterday, I got to thinking in the way that I hope turns in to some sort of shift. The first step for me was rather humbling. I realized, I was asking of my son, something I had yet developed the skill to do. "Please, when you get that mad can you just walk away and cool off." I don't do that all the time. Heck, I had just been right there in the living room yelling alongside him. Check that little piece of reality. 

The next step logically for me, was to admit to my son, that what I was requesting of him appeared to be beyond my abilities and was likely not the path that was going to take us away from yelling inappropriate words as the top of our lungs. 

So, we talked about anger and what it feels like. "It is like something just takes over my body and I can't control it." Wow, this is good information for me to know but more importantly for my son to know about his own physical reaction to anger. 

And the hardest part for me at this stage of the discussion, is to shut up and listen. I don't need to give him information about what he should or even could do when that happens. I can offer compassion for how challenging it must be to be in a body that feels clearly outside of your control and I can ask, "is there anything I can do to support you when feel this way?"

"YES, leave me alone and get out of my way."

I am sure that my heart beat could be heard from a few miles away. It was quite literally pounding inside of my chest. I want to help, in that do something way, and my eight year old has requested, I back off.  Alongside my teary eyes, was a hint of amazement as I realized he had just the skill I wished for earlier in the day. The ability to recognize what anger feels like in my body and to know what I needed those around me to do in order to give me the space to adequately process it. 

The challenge, for me to remember this conversation in the heat of the moment. To feel my own anger and my own urge to help and still give my son the space he needs to fully experience the anger coming in to his body, going through and inevitably leaving. Cause heck, who wants to carry that kind of nastiness around in your body clear in to your adult life. 

I thank my son for showing me, anger isn't something to be afraid of, it's just a feeling or emotion, that needs to find it's way through your body, in order to be fully released. 

A Tribute to Father's

I had a wonderfully imperfect father growing up. He did the very best he knew how to be a father to me. I could have chosen to spend the rest of my years, picking apart his imperfections and how they tainted or stunted me. But you know what, who he was and how he was are sewn in to the fabric of who I am today, and heck I am bold enough to admit I turned out pretty darn well. Father's day gifts, were always my favorite. As a little girl, I adored pouring on the love and telling my dad just how fabulous I thought he was. He was in fact that first man I loved, and he single handedly had my heart for a very long time. In fact, when he died I discovered in his closet a box of letters he had kept, from when he worked away. They were letters I wrote to him for everyday he was not home, a collection of love letters with the sweetest declarations of adoration ( I digress).

As a woman, Father's Day was a time for me to share with my Dad how some of the offerings he shared with me had shaped the person I am. I completely admired my dad's ability to continue to grow, examine himself and learn new things. The most touching example of this came in his sixtieth year of life. That was the year, my dad changed from the Catholic church to the Untied church. This was a big move for him and showcased how his religious up brining wasn't going to determine his spiritual practice in his later life. Shortly after joining the united Church the congregation began a discussion on whether they would perform gay marriages. My dad had a strong opinion on the matter, and attended the first discussion to share his thoughts. He boldly declared, that marriage was a sacrament and this was the driving force behind his opposition to the proposal. The minister kindly turned to him and explained, "it's not in this church Rick." And my dad's opposition was stopped in its tracks. Many weeks later, my dad called to share a personal moment with me. He explained that during the minister's sermon declaring why the church would know openly accept and perform gay marriage, he was brought to tears. "It's all about love Shan, how could I have ever been against that." It was one of the most tender moments I shared with my father, the witnessing of a crumbling wall of a belief no longer needed.

In my father's 62nd and final year of life, he joined his first choir with me by his side. He declared to me that he figured he had been a closet singer his entire life. And in fact, the day before his life ended my dad sang with gusto in the church choir on the one and only day his adored grandson's choice to check out this church.

So my tribute here is to honor each and every Dad out there and the tender loving moments they share with there children. Cause even with in the most imperfect of people there is love. And I dare say that this love is the only thing that reaches out and lives beyond our physical existence.

Happy Sleeping

I was super moved after reading this post by Swiss Army Wife, that when I started to leave a comment I realized I might have a little more to say then just what can be summed up in a post blog comment. So here goes. 

Before my first son was born, we created a Jungle themed room for him complete with a brand spanking new crib bought by proud Grandpa to be. We found the cutest bed set and got it all ready. In my pre  momma brain, I just figured when the baby was sleepy I would put him in there and he would sleep. I mean that is what I had witnessed time and time again on the large number of Baby Story shows I had been indulging in. 

When my son did make his appearance in to the world, born at the foot of our bed, we instinctively curled up in bed and cuddled for days. I kept waiting for the moment when it made sense to put him in his crib to sleep. And it simply never showed up.

There were times when daddy needed more sleep, so we put a double mattress on the jungle room floor and baby and I slept there. The crib was a great place to store toys and more then once I put baby in there so he could hold on to the edge of crib and bounce up and down up and down. He really enjoyed that.  It just never made sense for him to sleep there. 

This chance to sleep with my children for the past eight years, has come to open up a pretty cool world to me.  We now coin sleeping in our house as, playing musical beds, just because you fall asleep in one bed, you are not guaranteed to wake up in that same bed !! 

A night terror could send you running in to the warm place between two adults, or a crick in the neck could send you searching for the emptiest bed. Every bed in our home, is open to whomever needs in when they need it, no questions just loving arms to welcome you. 

My oldest has night terrors and often asks, "how did I get in here" upon waking or, "tell me about last night's terrors." He is absolutely fascinated by the fact that while he sleeps peacefully we bear witness to him screaming in terror and seeing things that are beyond our scope of vision. I am comforted in those moments by simply holding him, loving him and eventually drifting back to sleep.

The other treasured gift that sleeping together has given me is the best pre-sleep connection times ever! This is the time in the day when I get to lie with one of my boys all to myself. We talk about the stuff that floats around in their minds right before sleep. We get to dispel myths, remove worries and reassure each other of our connection. We laugh a lot about silly things we saw, jokes we have made up or just at the kind of things you say when you are drunk with sleepiness. 

In these precious moments I know my boys on a deeper level. I get a milliseconds peek in the busy minds that are theirs. And we talk about the kind of stuff that can keep ones mind up with worry. 

A favorite of mine to hear, "mommy can you put up the catcher and make sure it is full only of all the things and people I love." There was a time when sleep eluded my youngest as he was sure he would have a bad dream. So, we talked about dream catchers and there role in different cultures. He was drawn to this idea and asked me if I could put one up for him. In my adult mind, I thought this meant searching out a handmade dream catcher and affixing it to his bed. To him it meant using his and my vivid imagination to create a protective shield a top the bed, to stop anything yucky from getting in to his sleep world right now!  And so that is what we did and do near every night since. 

I have been asked night after night to recreate stories, original of course with the starring characters being my boys. This has opened to me a passion I have for the telling of children's stories. And I will admit that even on the nights when sleep presses heavy on my eyelids, I can always be perked up by the request for a "pretend story." 

Some nights are trickier then others as we negotiate our way through four different personalities and the circumstances life tosses our way.  But is just keeps making sense to find away for every to fall asleep happy and all loved up .... 

Conference Crud

I saw a few facebook posts of fellow Life Is Good conference attendees referring to conference crud. And as my house filled with the sounds of sneezing, coughing and the odor of explosive rear ends I knew just what everyone was referring to.  It hit the boys before slapping me upside the head.

My head was still so jazzed from all the connections and inspirations from the conference that while lying in bed I got to thinking, and thinking and thinking a little more about this thing called conference crud.

I wondered to myself, could it be true that after my soul was so enriched my physical body had some toxins it needed to expel?

It began to make sense to me that guttural explosions (from either end) could indeed be my bodies way of aggressively purging those deep seeded fears that for survival needed to be expelled from my body. Their fast and furious departure mirroring my commitment to release all and any roadblocks holding me back from living in freedom with my boys each and everyday.

And that slow and annoying nasal drip (post and non post) could be indicative of lingering beliefs that are so habitual I near miss them when they trigger me.  The kind of things, that truly need to be wiped away in order to see they are there. Perhaps these fall in to those should or would categories of beliefs that require a good .... long hard blow to eradicate.

The sore throat and cough perhaps my voice, crying out to speak its' truth. Reminding me of the little girl who so early on learned to be silent and not rock the boat.  And encouraging me to tune things up so the message my boys hear is one that encourages the full living of every passion that ignites them.

So in hindsight I thank the Conference Crud, if for no other reason then making me lie down and think about the stuff I was ready to purge from my life.