I took two of my kids to the park the other day. I didn't pack a diaper bag or push a stroller, I just grabbed a bag of goldfish, a bottle of water, and my book and off we went. The fenced in play zone was full of princesses, Star Wars characters, and cowboys. Sweet little Halloween costumes on toddlers and preschoolers, running, exploring, challenging themselves on rope ladders with the secure hovering hand of Mom close behind them in case they had taken on too much.
I plopped myself on the ground and savored the quiet time while my kids wandered around and took it all in. It has been a while since we've gone to the park. With 3 kids 3 years apart, the park was always very challenging for me. The oldest running to find other kids her age to make new friends, the middle always ready to find something new and dangerous to climb on, and the youngest either strapped to my chest or patiently entertaining herself in her car seat as I whirled her from one corner of the playground to the other. Once all 3 were mobile, forget it. I just couldn't keep up. Now I had one at a play date and an 8 year old and a 6 year old who were big enough to not get seriously hurt if they fell from the tallest part of the play set. I was finally one of those Moms who could savor some "me time" and not continually dart visually from left to right counting the heads of her children.
"I just pee'd in the woods. Is that funny?" I looked up from my reading to see a little cowboy glancing down at me inquisitively. I giggled and said, "Yes, that is kinda funny. Is that supposed to be a secret?" He just paused and walked away. Oh, little kids make me laugh! By the swings I caught a conversation between Moms about how different the park is now that their child is walking, interrupted by warnings of walking in front of the swings and the dangers of eating bark. I'll admit, I don't miss those conversations. I'm all done comparing notes on developmental milestones, teething, and mysterious rashes. It is so important to be around other Moms that are at the same stage as you when you have little ones. I was there for many, many years. But I wanted to read my book--I had no interest in engaging in their conversation. That was their time.
My two were climbing up the slide, practicing gymnastics moves on the bars, and watching these little people with wonder. When had we stopped living in this world of pull-ups and velcro shoes? It looked a little foreign to my kids, and frankly, I felt a little bit of the same. When you're raising kids, you can't really declare yourself officially done with one phase and on to the next. The borders are blurred. We're all in Elementary school now, but we're still in booster seats, I'm still brushing their teeth for them, and a snuggle from Mommy can still make a bonk on the head feel better. If I could look into the future a few years, I'll bet I'll be nostalgic for these days.
I watched as my son helped a little boy on the final steps of his climb. The little boy turned to my 6-year old and said, "thank you, sir" and ran away to continue his adventure. I found this to be hilarious, and I could tell my little guy felt like a pretty big kid at that moment. He still occasionally wets the bed and has a meltdown about once a day, but to the current regulars at the playground, he's what they're all working hard to become. And with that, I will declare myself officially done with the baby years, and proud to have made it through with three little role models for the current regulars at the playground.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
This week's inspiration
"Inspired Living"
The name was born out of the inspiration I was finding almost every day in books, magazines, songs, conversations, nature...wherever. I have been gathering little nuggets of inspiration for years and sometimes an old gem comes back to inspire me. Something old is new again!
"As comedian Phyllis Diller says, 'Cleaning the house while the kids are still growing is like shoveling the sidewalk before it stops snowing.' If your other family members don't like it, they'll learn to pick up your slack. Goddess knows you've picked up their slack from time to time."
~ excerpt from The Mother Trip by Ariel Gore
It's not the house cleaning part that has me thinking this week, it's the slack part. Slacker is just not a word I would normally use to describe myself. Frankly, it doesn't describe me right now either, if you ask me. We are being financially wise and are finishing the concrete floors in our basement by ourselves rather than paying someone to do the dirty work for us. Notice I said "we" and "us." My sweet husband has been saying "we" and "us" when he talks about this project (yes, honey, I have noticed)--sort of in the same way I say "we" and "us" when I talk about earning the paycheck that keeps a roof over our heads and food on our table.
My husband is finishing the concrete floor. I patched a couple nail holes, I cleared out some furniture that needed to be moved, but he's the one sucking in the fumes, using muscles he hasn't used in years, listening to his ipod as he scrubs and brushes and mops and rinses and dumps and mops again...
My husband showers, dresses, commutes, sells, negotiates, kisses ass, bitches out, and generally does the deed necessary to earn a salary. He loves it and he's really good at it (what a blessing).
But it's "us" and "we" that are sustaining this family. I walk down to that basement and my eyes glaze over. As far as this project goes, I'm the slack. But I'll put together the new basketball hoop and I'll paint the basement walls...once the floors are done. I'll pay the bills, manage the debt and the savings. I'll buy the groceries and the winter coats, I'll get everyone their flu shots, I'll kiss the boo-boos (while he's at work at least). He'll probably do the laundry, we'll both help with homework. I think it's safe to say that there are no slackers in this family. Sometimes he takes up my slack, sometimes I take up his. No questions asked. That's what love is about--that's what family is about.
The name was born out of the inspiration I was finding almost every day in books, magazines, songs, conversations, nature...wherever. I have been gathering little nuggets of inspiration for years and sometimes an old gem comes back to inspire me. Something old is new again!
"As comedian Phyllis Diller says, 'Cleaning the house while the kids are still growing is like shoveling the sidewalk before it stops snowing.' If your other family members don't like it, they'll learn to pick up your slack. Goddess knows you've picked up their slack from time to time."
~ excerpt from The Mother Trip by Ariel Gore
It's not the house cleaning part that has me thinking this week, it's the slack part. Slacker is just not a word I would normally use to describe myself. Frankly, it doesn't describe me right now either, if you ask me. We are being financially wise and are finishing the concrete floors in our basement by ourselves rather than paying someone to do the dirty work for us. Notice I said "we" and "us." My sweet husband has been saying "we" and "us" when he talks about this project (yes, honey, I have noticed)--sort of in the same way I say "we" and "us" when I talk about earning the paycheck that keeps a roof over our heads and food on our table.
My husband is finishing the concrete floor. I patched a couple nail holes, I cleared out some furniture that needed to be moved, but he's the one sucking in the fumes, using muscles he hasn't used in years, listening to his ipod as he scrubs and brushes and mops and rinses and dumps and mops again...
My husband showers, dresses, commutes, sells, negotiates, kisses ass, bitches out, and generally does the deed necessary to earn a salary. He loves it and he's really good at it (what a blessing).
But it's "us" and "we" that are sustaining this family. I walk down to that basement and my eyes glaze over. As far as this project goes, I'm the slack. But I'll put together the new basketball hoop and I'll paint the basement walls...once the floors are done. I'll pay the bills, manage the debt and the savings. I'll buy the groceries and the winter coats, I'll get everyone their flu shots, I'll kiss the boo-boos (while he's at work at least). He'll probably do the laundry, we'll both help with homework. I think it's safe to say that there are no slackers in this family. Sometimes he takes up my slack, sometimes I take up his. No questions asked. That's what love is about--that's what family is about.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
This evening I watched as my 5 year old found inspiration from a 25 year old Polaroid of 7 Cabbage Patch dolls lined up on my mom's porch swing. She was giddy when she saw it and immediately wanted to glue it to a piece of construction paper and bring it to her teacher. She wanted to call Grandma and tell her to bring all those Cabbage Patches the next time she visits. Thirty minutes later I knelt next to her at her bed as she was deep in her creative process, designing a card in honor of this special treasure I had found earlier in a box of old photos. With her Dad's help on how to spell Cabbage Patch she then used her own budding spelling skills to write "I Love Cabbage Patch Dolls" and draw each of the seven dolls, all sitting on the swing, along with images of me (Mom), Dad, Ava (big sister), Jerry & Garcia (2 cats--one with a spot on her head), and brother Harrison (okay, I had to remind her about him).
Quietly kneeling next to her I was so fascinated by her energy, her intent, the pure felicity of this creative process. She wanted to pin her masterpiece to the cork board hanging over her bed. I just love this child's spirit!
After tucking her in bed (which took much cajoling) I came downstairs to find my 8 year old daughter just home from gymnastics. She was brimming with energy herself, and giggling as she told a story. For some reason she thought it would be a good idea to put two Halloween stamps (the ink kind, not the sticky kind) on her forehead. Usually the girls get to stamp their hands for a good workout, and to be honest, they usually end up on their cheeks the next morning because they nestle up in bed, head perched on hands in prayer position. But to put the stamps right smack on her forehead...that's just silly. And she thought so too! That's why she did it. She's 8! The free abandon that comes with being a child! I love to observe it, be in the presence of it, even try to adopt it in the most appropriate way every once in a while.
The dichotomy of it, the yin and yang of my life right now, is to witness that joy alongside my son, who does not have an active imagination. Creativity is not his thing. He has never role played, never been a pirate on a ship, a dinosaur hunting his prey, a race car driver on the tail of his opponent. I struggle to find the joy in his life--what gives him the inspiration to leave the world around him and frolic in a world of his creating. He wants it, I can tell. Of course, he doesn't really know what he's missing. He finds every form to fill out, every math sheet to complete, he wants to text message his aunt, email his friend's mom, and check tomorrow's weather online. I do catch him once in a while cheering himself on as he plays basketball in the driveway. But more often, like today, I watched as he sat in the front lawn waiting for the mailman, or laid on the trampoline watching the trees sway in the wind.
I want so badly to know that his experience as a child is as wondrous and carefree as my daughters'. Antonyms for light-hearted are burdensome and heavy. I fear that that describes his experience more. I believe in my mother's heart that one day this is all going to make sense to me, that he faced so many challenges as a young child in order to get him to the place where his spirit can soar. It's just so hard to see him go through it now, as a little 6-year old boy. And am I guiding him properly? Am I supporting him and nurturing him the way he needs to be supported and nurtured?
I know I am doing that. That boy knows how much I love him. And so do my girls. We all have our own path. In the woods behind my house growing up there were paths that were wide and worn, free from dangerous limbs or bulging tree roots. The occasional puddle that would get you muddy one day or offer you a chance at ice skating the next. And there were other paths that were more rugged, more mysterious. It was a bigger commitment to explore these paths, and we weren't quite sure where they led because not many kids had gone there before us. We all found amazing treasures and wonderlands in those woods.
We don't all have the same choices to make. Some of us are naturally drawn to the wide path, and some of us get hung up on the briers that line the narrow path. But I've got to believe they all lead us to where we are supposed to go. In our case, although the journey is so important, that break in the woods is something I look forward to finding with my son. And my girls will encounter their own individual obstacles as well, and I plan on being there then too. I guess I just wish that I could take myself, as an adult, into those imaginative lands where flowers bloom as tall as people and rainbows abound, if even for a little while. I'd be sure to take my son with me.
Quietly kneeling next to her I was so fascinated by her energy, her intent, the pure felicity of this creative process. She wanted to pin her masterpiece to the cork board hanging over her bed. I just love this child's spirit!
After tucking her in bed (which took much cajoling) I came downstairs to find my 8 year old daughter just home from gymnastics. She was brimming with energy herself, and giggling as she told a story. For some reason she thought it would be a good idea to put two Halloween stamps (the ink kind, not the sticky kind) on her forehead. Usually the girls get to stamp their hands for a good workout, and to be honest, they usually end up on their cheeks the next morning because they nestle up in bed, head perched on hands in prayer position. But to put the stamps right smack on her forehead...that's just silly. And she thought so too! That's why she did it. She's 8! The free abandon that comes with being a child! I love to observe it, be in the presence of it, even try to adopt it in the most appropriate way every once in a while.
The dichotomy of it, the yin and yang of my life right now, is to witness that joy alongside my son, who does not have an active imagination. Creativity is not his thing. He has never role played, never been a pirate on a ship, a dinosaur hunting his prey, a race car driver on the tail of his opponent. I struggle to find the joy in his life--what gives him the inspiration to leave the world around him and frolic in a world of his creating. He wants it, I can tell. Of course, he doesn't really know what he's missing. He finds every form to fill out, every math sheet to complete, he wants to text message his aunt, email his friend's mom, and check tomorrow's weather online. I do catch him once in a while cheering himself on as he plays basketball in the driveway. But more often, like today, I watched as he sat in the front lawn waiting for the mailman, or laid on the trampoline watching the trees sway in the wind.
I want so badly to know that his experience as a child is as wondrous and carefree as my daughters'. Antonyms for light-hearted are burdensome and heavy. I fear that that describes his experience more. I believe in my mother's heart that one day this is all going to make sense to me, that he faced so many challenges as a young child in order to get him to the place where his spirit can soar. It's just so hard to see him go through it now, as a little 6-year old boy. And am I guiding him properly? Am I supporting him and nurturing him the way he needs to be supported and nurtured?
I know I am doing that. That boy knows how much I love him. And so do my girls. We all have our own path. In the woods behind my house growing up there were paths that were wide and worn, free from dangerous limbs or bulging tree roots. The occasional puddle that would get you muddy one day or offer you a chance at ice skating the next. And there were other paths that were more rugged, more mysterious. It was a bigger commitment to explore these paths, and we weren't quite sure where they led because not many kids had gone there before us. We all found amazing treasures and wonderlands in those woods.
We don't all have the same choices to make. Some of us are naturally drawn to the wide path, and some of us get hung up on the briers that line the narrow path. But I've got to believe they all lead us to where we are supposed to go. In our case, although the journey is so important, that break in the woods is something I look forward to finding with my son. And my girls will encounter their own individual obstacles as well, and I plan on being there then too. I guess I just wish that I could take myself, as an adult, into those imaginative lands where flowers bloom as tall as people and rainbows abound, if even for a little while. I'd be sure to take my son with me.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Overflowing Cups are free!
Money.
It's such a nasty word.
Let's think about it for a second. Money is really just a currency we exchange for something that we want. We earn it for satisfactorily performing an action that is pleasing someone else. So we're pleasing others to satisfy out own desires. I see this going down a different path than my original intention so I'm going to steer myself away from the "working for the man" path and redirect toward the "do what you love" path.
The discussion of money can add so much stress to a situation. Something we've learned as adults is, unless you're in very familiar company, don't discuss money, religion, or politics. I remember never wanting to ask my parents for money when I was in high school and college because I could just see the stress in their faces. Asking for more money in a job is one of the hardest things to do. Negotiating big purchases is an art form, and it takes great skill and detachment. We have to be willing to walk away from whatever it is we're are trying to acquire--and that it stressful!
But if we pause, and take a step back, we can see that we can be just as happy and satisfied with less. Set aside the American pattern of always wanting more...bigger...newer...upgraded. You can have tulips shipped in from Holland because you love them so much, but can't daisies or roses be just as beautiful and pleasing to the senses? You can save and save to go on your dream vacation, but can't we find the same adventure and sensory experience if we take a train rather than a plane, or stay in a hostel or with friends rather than a glorious hotel? The exchange of money does not equal the ultimate satisfaction. Working and earning every day toward an idealized end is not a way to live a full and balanced life. And so often that end doesn't meet our grand expectations and we're left disappointed. Disappointed and stressed out for all it took us to get there. Bummer.
I guess this goes back to my long held "work hard, play hard" philosophy. Of course, I think there should be some sense of play in our work--we should enjoy what we spend the majority of our time doing. (Conversely, do I think there should be some work in our play? I don't know about that.) And as I get older, I'm moderating my philosophy to more of a "work pretty hard, play pretty hard." A gentler way of existing.
Maybe all of this is just a way for me to figure out how I'm going to get to Greece for less than what I spent going to Italy (which was not too bad, if you ask me). But I really believe that it doesn't have to be prohibitive to travel, to remodel, to change your style, to throw a wedding, or to feed your family healthy food. Maybe it's part sacrifice, part creativity and resourcefulness. But life is too short to not have some joy in each day and some bliss on a regular basis. To suffer day after day as a means to an end is a waste. Maybe if we can open our eyes to the gifts we have before us in each moment, we'll see that the exchange of money is not what creates happiness, but that simply living with gratitude and awareness will fill our souls. And even when we feel full and abundant, there is always room to add more when it comes to us.
I am going to try to figure out why it is so challenging to post a comment to my blog. Hopefully by the time you're done reading this I'll have made it easier. I'd love to read your comments and your take on what I post. These are just my ideas which can always be expanded upon, enhanced, or even changed based on the input of others! And if I can spur contemplation in someone else then I feel I'm being successful in my writing. So please, comment away!
It's such a nasty word.
Let's think about it for a second. Money is really just a currency we exchange for something that we want. We earn it for satisfactorily performing an action that is pleasing someone else. So we're pleasing others to satisfy out own desires. I see this going down a different path than my original intention so I'm going to steer myself away from the "working for the man" path and redirect toward the "do what you love" path.
The discussion of money can add so much stress to a situation. Something we've learned as adults is, unless you're in very familiar company, don't discuss money, religion, or politics. I remember never wanting to ask my parents for money when I was in high school and college because I could just see the stress in their faces. Asking for more money in a job is one of the hardest things to do. Negotiating big purchases is an art form, and it takes great skill and detachment. We have to be willing to walk away from whatever it is we're are trying to acquire--and that it stressful!
But if we pause, and take a step back, we can see that we can be just as happy and satisfied with less. Set aside the American pattern of always wanting more...bigger...newer...upgraded. You can have tulips shipped in from Holland because you love them so much, but can't daisies or roses be just as beautiful and pleasing to the senses? You can save and save to go on your dream vacation, but can't we find the same adventure and sensory experience if we take a train rather than a plane, or stay in a hostel or with friends rather than a glorious hotel? The exchange of money does not equal the ultimate satisfaction. Working and earning every day toward an idealized end is not a way to live a full and balanced life. And so often that end doesn't meet our grand expectations and we're left disappointed. Disappointed and stressed out for all it took us to get there. Bummer.
I guess this goes back to my long held "work hard, play hard" philosophy. Of course, I think there should be some sense of play in our work--we should enjoy what we spend the majority of our time doing. (Conversely, do I think there should be some work in our play? I don't know about that.) And as I get older, I'm moderating my philosophy to more of a "work pretty hard, play pretty hard." A gentler way of existing.
Maybe all of this is just a way for me to figure out how I'm going to get to Greece for less than what I spent going to Italy (which was not too bad, if you ask me). But I really believe that it doesn't have to be prohibitive to travel, to remodel, to change your style, to throw a wedding, or to feed your family healthy food. Maybe it's part sacrifice, part creativity and resourcefulness. But life is too short to not have some joy in each day and some bliss on a regular basis. To suffer day after day as a means to an end is a waste. Maybe if we can open our eyes to the gifts we have before us in each moment, we'll see that the exchange of money is not what creates happiness, but that simply living with gratitude and awareness will fill our souls. And even when we feel full and abundant, there is always room to add more when it comes to us.
I am going to try to figure out why it is so challenging to post a comment to my blog. Hopefully by the time you're done reading this I'll have made it easier. I'd love to read your comments and your take on what I post. These are just my ideas which can always be expanded upon, enhanced, or even changed based on the input of others! And if I can spur contemplation in someone else then I feel I'm being successful in my writing. So please, comment away!
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