Day 95: Room to Breathe

Yesterday was the first truly beautiful Spring day we were able to get out and enjoy, and boy did we take advantage! The morning was spent at the "Sugar Shack" where we learned all about maple trees, sap, and syrup. We even got to roam the woods with buckets, collecting the dripping sap. The combination of sun, fresh, open air, leaves crunching under our feet and mud squishing up around our boots was magical after a long winter, especially for my earthy boy.

But the real treat came after the field trip was over. We sat in the grass and dirt - sans blanket or wet wipes (*gasp* I'm working on appreciating the value of unclean and messy!) - and ate a picnic lunch with good friends. When the kids (all 2-3 years old) had finished eating, they ran to the row of massive rock piles right next to us, where they spent nearly an hour climbing, jumping, and sliding around with each other while we mothers enjoyed nearly uninterrupted conversation.

The conversation itself was energizing and encouraging as it always is among this supportive group, and it stirred ideas that will be coming out in future posts. But I was affected on a deeper level simply by watching these wonderful women with their children.

I cringed as Jackson rolled around in the dirt and dust. I worried when he wandered out of sight on the other side of the mound. I held my breath as he stood at the top, working to keep his balance. I watched intently as he interacted with his peers to make sure I'd see if he needed my help.

Then I looked around and saw the freedom these other women felt and started tuning in to it.

One child was climbing the rocks barefooted, another without pants, and all were taking their turn on the other side of the mountain where they could be heard but not seen. There was no one yelling, "Careful!", no one standing up to check in. These women were trusting their children, giving them some much-needed freedom and space to play and explore. And they seemed to be doing it without a second thought.

I, on the other hand, was running an inner monologue to convince myself to honor these same needs that I know Jackson has: The car seat can be cleaned, his clothes can be washed, he can take a bath - let him get dirty. He is capable of asking for help if he needs it, he is capable of making safe choices without me hovering - let him play in earshot out of sight. He's thoughtful and cautious - let him decide when to be careful and what careful means. He's an excellent communicator, capable of navigating peer relationships without interference, and able to ask for help when he needs it - let him interact without guidance and decide how to handle conflict if it arises.

After a while, my nervous energy was overtaken by the calm coming from these other women, and the monologue was put to rest. Then both he and I were able to really bask in the gift of freedom we were being given in these moments.

Jackson is sensitive, but not weak. And he's growing stronger by the day. I'm doing my best to recognize and respect his emerging confidence and abilities and his diminishing need for guidance and assistance. But in all honesty, I'm probably doing a below-average job.

I hover. And when I do, I communicate distrust. When he senses that I don't think he's capable, that I think he'll need help, it eats away at the confidence he's trying to develop and stunts his growth. My only reward is a bump or bruise avoided, maybe an insignificant conflict diffused; very small prizes when they come at the expense of his autonomy.

The times I'm able to let go and give him room to breathe, I see him flourish. I watch him attempt big things, believing he can accomplish them, and he surprises me with capabilities I didn't know he had, because I never gave him an opportunity to showcase them. And the payoff I get when he beams with pride or learns to pick himself up and try again is enormous.

Being a part of this community is a humbling and inspiring experience, and one for which I will be eternally grateful. I'm continually challenged and validated in ways that wouldn't be possible on my own. So thank you, to those of you who blessed us with your presence yesterday and gave us the gift of freedom!

Day 88: Positive and Productive Protests

I never wanted to change the world until I had kids. I don't know exactly what it is about becoming a parent that stirs up these desires, but it seems to be pretty common. Maybe it's that having a child is the only thing that can truly pull a person outside of themselves and their own interests so completely. Whatever the case, I suddenly cared deeply about things like nutrition, birth, breastfeeding, circumcision, feminism, human rights, medical ethics, freedom of choice, and all manners of equality. Things that weren't even a blip on the radar now consume my life.

If I could clone myself, I'd be at every capitol march and every public hearing, I'd be writing articles, letters, and emails and making phone calls daily. But of course I'm only one person, so I settle for doing all the things I can with the time and resources I have. And while posting a profile picture and passing on articles in support of World Breastfeeding Week or Genital Integrity Awareness Week is a small part of that, there's something else I see as much more valuable, much more productive: Community.

A few days ago, I happened to drive by our local Planned Parenthood to see a (very) small group of individuals pacing with "Respect Life" signs. I got unexpectedly angry. And if I hadn't had to get home, it would've been enough to motivate me to pull over and strike up a conversation.

How they think that providing a negative presence and directing that energy at people who are already in a negative place is supposed to produce a positive result is beyond me.

If they want to end abortion they should start by getting involved in the community instead of wasting their time circling on the sidewalk. If they truly cared about babies, they'd be actively supporting those babies' mothers, not silently carrying cardboard messages of disapproval. If they want to protect life, they should be actively loving women in our community so perfectly that those women embrace their innate value and strength to the point of feeling capable of motherhood.

I care about babies and life, I'd love to see the end of abortion, but self-righteous picketing and targeting legal rights don't make my list of ways to bring that to fruition. And that goes for all the other causes I'm passionate about. If we want to change the world, we have to start by promoting a positive change, not attacking what we see as negative.

So here are my positive and productive protests, and I hope you'll take a minute to think about yours (and share them!):

I protest the cultural and industry breastfeeding sabotage by offering support to every single mother who comes across my path and, through friends of friends, many I'll never meet, by actively participating in my local breastfeeding community and encouraging other women to do so, and by openly and confidently breastfeeding my children where ever I am, in whatever I'm wearing, no matter who's present, and no matter what age my child is.

I protest the unethical withholding of circumcision information by the medical community by being open about our choice to keep our sons intact and honest about its damaging and right-revoking nature when I'm met with an open and wondering ear, and by supporting mothers whose strength wavers in the face of cultural or family expectations.

I protest the dismal quality of our food system by making good nutritional choices for my family and not compromising that based on cultural expectations, by helping other mothers find their way to the best nutrition for their families, by supporting local food sources, and by spreading awareness about infringements upon our rights within the system.

I protest the stripping of a woman's birthing power by the routine labor and delivery system by openly sharing my birth experiences, by supporting every pregnant woman I have the privilege of meeting, and by cheering every woman on to empowerment, to seeing herself and her body as perfectly-designed, capable, and strong.

I protest the stripping of personal freedoms by standing up for the rights of those I don't agree with. By championing all causes that promote personal choice, regardless of how I feel about those choices.

I protest the mistreatment of children by supporting and validating mothers, by offering information to those who feel their options are limited, who want to find a peaceful way to coexist with their children but don't know how, by treating my own children with the respect and dignity they deserve, by offering a new way of looking at children and the parent-child relationship, and by encouraging mothers to follow their instincts.

I'm proud to say that my children will grow up in a community and witness my passionate involvement in that community; and they will be better for it. Caring for others will be second nature to them, and seeing through the issues to the people will come naturally. A genuine desire to promote positive change in their world will just be a part of who they are, and championing a cause will be so much more meaningful to them than waving a sign. Now if we could just get the rest of the world on board!

Day 62: Daring to Dream

My dream has always been to be a wife and mother. College was merely preparation for a backup plan should Prince Charming not ride in on his white horse soon enough. But that backup plan was never very definitive. I figured I'd need a career of some sort, but never really felt passionate about anything.

Thankfully I was married and pregnant when I graduated with my second bachelor's degree, and thus spared the grueling task of muddling my way through indifference toward a career path.

Little did I know, however, that becoming a wife and mother as I had dreamed would also stir up passion for a traditional career. (I say traditional because mothering is a valid career choice!) Suddenly I cared so intensely about so many things, and I wanted to use my talents (and expensive, so far monetarily useless degrees) to make a difference in my community and the world.

I thought about all the things I could see myself doing: homeopath, naturopath, doula, home birth midwife, lactation consultant... But all those things would require more schooling and take me away from my children, and my responsibility and greatest passion still remained with them. These are things that the future may hold for me once my children are grown, but they weren't right for our family's present.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't fulfilling my potential. Not that mothering wasn't important enough or challenging enough - God knows it is - just that there was something else I was supposed to be doing, other parts of me that weren't being utilized and challenged.

I worked so hard to earn degrees, then even harder to educate myself and grow as a person and a mother that I felt like keeping all of it to myself was a waste, almost selfish. (And now my fingers hover over the delete button because that all seems much too self-important. But I'm learning not to shy away from my strengths and abilities and not to sell myself short. So yes. I do have something to offer the world! *blush*)

After some time on discussion formus with some amazing women (who I hope to meet in real life some day!), I finally landed on writing as a way to impact the lives of women in my community and those far beyond my physical reach. This I could accomplish without ever leaving my children's sides. And while it doesn't allow me to give the hands-on support I'd love to offer (to every women on the planet), it's an opportunity to exercise some creativity and fine tune a talent in a way that hopefully brings something positive to someone else.

I know I can name a few women whose writings were pivotal in my mothering journey thus far, and I'd be humbled and honored to be a source of knowledge, inspiration, or encouragement for another woman in the same way.

But freelance writing isn't exactly an easy road. In fact, odds are you'll put yourself out there over and over only to be rejected over and over, especially as an unpublished writer. So each time I'd start working toward a submission, I'd find an excuse to give up long before I sent anything off.

I never admitted out loud that writing was one of my dreams, and especially not that I wanted to do it for any reason other than than a paycheck, because saying that it meant something to me would make it that much more painful and embarrassing to be rejected.

For two years, fear of failure kept me from ever trying. It even kept me from figuring out what exactly that dream of writing looked like, because entertaining the idea only led to visions of the inevitable reply: not interested and negative self-talk: it'll never happen.

It was somehow more tolerable to reject myself than to take a risk at having my work rejected by someone else, even though that meant cheating myself out of a chance at acceptance and success.

Then I started this project.

This didn't start as a writing project, and even now it isn't a writing project. But it is a space for me to take an honest look at myself and to challenge myself to do and be better for my children. And thanks to lots of encouragement from those of you reading along on this journey, I realized that writing is part of that.

I don't ever want my boys to see themselves for less than what they are, to write themselves off or downplay their abilities. I want them to be confident, take pride in their talents and use them to accomplish their dreams, whatever they may be.

They're not going to learn that by watching me squander my own gifts. If I want that for them, I'd better show it to them.

So as I write this, my first published article is appearing in a magazine - a small, local, free magazine...but I'm published. It's certainly not the fulfillment of my dream, and it's not work that I'm passionate about, but it's a stepping stone down the path, and one that I couldn't have taken if I hadn't put myself out there.

And now the challenge is to make time - somehow, someway - and take risks to keep moving toward the goal of having something meaningful published in a more prominent place.

Rejection is going to be part of the process, but after putting my writing and so much of my "dirty laundry" out in the open for everyone, including me, to see here, I'm ready to face that fear. I know what I'm capable of, what my gifts are, and more importantly who I am, and none of that is defined by whether or not someone else accepts or rejects my work.

So if I've given any inspiration or encouragement to any of you reading, please know that you've given me much more in return!

Day 46: What About Me?

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I will choose acceptance over resistance.
I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
I will choose to extend the same grace, love and forgiveness to myself that I try to lavish on my husband and children each day.

How many times have you heard this: You have to take care of yourself so you can take care of your family.

BAHahahahahaha! It gets me every time. It's no doubt spoken by a woman with a very different idea of mothering than mine or one who isn't a mother at all (also known as a woman who shouldn't even be allowed to have an opinion on mothering, much less voice it...I think I'm feeling a little fiesty today!).

Here's the reality: I can eat, sleep, and poop without assistance. They can't. I get trumped every time.

But my birthday car dance got me to thinking about what it would look like if I could take care of myself. What were the things that once nourished me, and are they the same now that so much of me is different? Here's what I came up with.

Music was my therapy. Whether I was sad, angry, happy, or stressed, music made the bad more bearable and the good better. 

Running, especially in the hot summer sun, was an essential outlet - a way to release aggression, clear my head, and find physical and emotional balance. 

Reading was my way to come down and relax, but also my stimulation, a way to learn and grow. Forward motion is a necessity in my life, and education, especially self-education, is a big part of that. 

Good food and a few drinks defined connection and relationships. Whether it was a friend or a boyfriend, conversation over a bar or restaurant table was where the magic happened. 

And silence, glorious silence, was a must. This was where I connected with myself, kept my finger on the pulse of who I was, what I believed, and what I wanted and needed.

For the most part, these things haven't changed. Sure, the books I'd pick up now if I had time are a little different, but it's still about growth. And the music that would nurture me now if Raffi didn't dominate the CD player is probably a little more tame, but so am I.

If I could take care of myself, these are still the things I would choose. But as I adapt to life as it is, these things have to slowly morph with me. I'm not going to get to spend two hours stretching, running eight miles and taking a long shower like I used to, but that doesn't mean I can't toss the kids in a jogger this summer and run the long way to the park. I can't drown out stress with music so loud it changes my heartbeat, but maybe I can switch out the Mary Poppins soundtrack for a little Jamie Cullum in the car with the kids now and then. And maybe a good bottle of wine and a gourmet meal at home with the kids can still be a way to connect with my husband. And would five minutes of silence and stillness when the kids are napping really mean the difference between getting all my tasks done or not?

Taking care of myself doesn't have to be all or nothing, and it doesn't have to be at their expense. I'm going to work on finding small ways to nurture myself and my family through the day so that I have more to give them.

Day 27: Yes I Can!

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I will choose acceptance over resistance.
I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
I will choose to extend the same grace, love and forgiveness to myself that I try to lavish on my husband and children each day.

What you think of me, I'll think of me. 

And what I think of me, I'll be.

 This is a quote that was given to me by our dear Teacher Ellen at the completion of our first ECFE class when Jackson was just a few months old. As of recent, I've had the chance to really refocus on this concept.

I've been finding myself telling Jackson more often what he's not capable of: 

"You're showing me you can't control your body, so I'm going to help you." 

"If you can't stay by me, you'll have to ride in the cart." 

"You can't stack the DVD cases because you showed me you couldn't leave the discs in the case."

"We're going to put the microphone away because you showed me you weren't capable of keeping the cord out of your mouth." (Interesting side note: As we've started to take care of the candida, he's stopped chewing on everything!)

It seems innocent enough, but it's a game-changer. The more I tell him he can't, the less I see him showing me how capable he really is. I've tried to be very conscious and careful about outright labeling him, (You're shy...You're sensitive...), knowing that doing so puts him in a box that he may not break out of. But in focusing on the can'ts instead of the cans, I've been doing exactly the same thing. I'm deciding for him what he is and isn't capable of, and he's living up to those expectations. Why try when Mom has already decided I can't do it? 

It takes a lot of fortitude to prove someone wrong. Proving someone right, on the other hand, is an easier challenge to meet. So if he's going to prove me right, I  better give him the right thing to prove! The more I tell him he is capable, the more he'll feel capable. The more capable he feels, the more capable he shows me he is. Today I saw it in action. 

The coop has mini carts, and Jackson loves to feel like he's shopping independently. The only problem is that in the past, he's had too hard a time keeping his hands on his cart. It's not exactly a kid-friendly place: Scoops and bulk bins right at his level, tongs and fresh foods within reach - it's a whole foods playground in his eyes. Don't get me wrong, it's adorable when he holds up a jar of maple syrup to inspect the label and make sure it has green-light ingredients before adding it to his cart, but it's been impossible to keep him close and stop him from filling his cart with things we're not buying.

I've dealt with this by putting a ban on the shopping cart and wearing him on my back, but he still asks for the cart every time. Today when he asked I gave him the usual, "You've shown me that it's too hard to stay close and keep your hands to yourself so we're not going to use the cart." But as I started to put the carrier on I had a moment of clarity. It was time to practice what I'd been preaching to myself. 

I got down on his level and said, "Jackson, I changed my mind. I know you are capable of staying close and keeping your hands to yourself. I'd like to give you a chance to show me how capable you are." For 30 minutes we shopped together. He was all smiles and I could see how proud he was of himself, how responsible he felt. He needed a few reminders (which were all phrased positively, "I know you're capable, please show me.") and a little extra guidance by the end, but he really rose to the occasion. In fact he did so well that one of the other shoppers asked him, "Are you always this good at staying with Mommy?" He beamed when he said, "Yes!" 

Of course there isn't anything magical about this. It's not a tool to manipulate his behavior, nor is "hands to yourself" the goal. The goal is to instill confidence, to show trust, and to inspire him to fulfill his potential and grow. But if in the process the behavior happens to fall in line with what makes my life easier, I'll take the bonus!

Day 24: Don't Screw it Up!

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I will choose acceptance over resistance.
I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
I will choose to extend the same grace, love and forgiveness to myself that I try to lavish on my husband and children each day.

There's a reason Mom is the topic of discussion on every therapy couch (and by the way, if I thought the couch really existed, I would start therapy just to get a break and take a nap!). As a mother, I am the most influential person in the lives of my children. That's a pretty huge responsibility, one that I take very seriously. Maybe too seriously...

It's true that the way I communicate with them and others will be their model for communication in every relationship to come. Yes, what I show and teach them about self-respect and self-worth will be the foundation of their own self-image someday. Of course, the way I feed them will form the basis for their future nutritional choices. No question, the way they see me manage emotions will provide the blueprint for what they do with their own emotions. Without a doubt, the values I show them will be the building blocks of their integrity. And why wouldn't the way I discipline them shape the way they interact with the world and even parent their own children some day? For better or worse, I am the most significant influence in their lives present and future.

All of these things and many more add up, and I start to feel pressure, immense pressure, to perform perfectly or else. Because if I don't, I'll "screw them up," right? Well, yes, if you consider the fact that we're all screwed up! But not quite, when you look around and see capable and compassionate adults from homes that were anything but perfect. I'm lucky that Dad, an almost equal second in the race for life-altering influence, makes up for my shortcomings. But even that isn't the reason I won't screw them up.

My children didn't come to me as blank slates. Nor did they arrive as shapeless mounds of clay to be molded into any form I please. They came to me as whole human beings, with personalities and temperaments already in place. They are malleable, not mutable. Whatever influences come their way, who they are at the core will remain unchanged. What a relief!

So instead of seeing myself as "the shaper of small people", I should call myself "the setter of small persons' defaults." This job is of equal significance, but with consequences less grave. The shaper is responsible for inputting all data, thus everything that comes out is a result of what she put in. The setter simply works on the system already in place. The product is already complete, but capable of accepting downgrades or improvements. I give tools, model values to the best of my ability, and leave the rest to the God who created them and placed them in my care.

Some of my defaults are obstacles, others are blessings. Either way I have a choice every day to live out who I was created to be or who my defaults say I am. My children will have the same choice; the same opportunity to improve on the things I've modeled and taught them. I'm an imperfect influence, but they know they're loved and cherished. Everything beyond that is a bonus.

A Mission Statement of Sorts

Every day I start with new resolve to parent in a manner worthy of the beautiful little souls God has entrusted to me: with respect, dignity, acceptance, joy, love, grace, forgiveness, security, trust, compassion, authenticity, peace, creativity, enthusiasm...(simple, right? Ha!) And every day I fail. And so it will continue every day, because the goal of being a perfect mother is decidedly out of reach.

You might think an unattainable goal would leave me, and every other mother for that matter, feeling defeated. And some days it does. But there's a secret that the world doesn't tell us, a secret that changes everything: Fulfillment is in the process, not the product.

A successful parent isn't measure by the final product. In fact, we can do it all "right" and still end up falling short if what we're striving for is a toddler who shares, a teenager who doesn't smoke, or straight A's on a report card. Successful parenting is much more fluid and ambiguous than that. It's an intimate, undefinable connection, a relationship that can't be summed up in words. It's a catalog of never-finished, always in-progress immeasurables that can't be checked off a list: Empathy, confidence, respect, self-worth, stability, integrity...these are the things I long for when I dream of the present and future for my children.

Life is messy, and the closer you get to people, the messier it gets. I can't think of a more intimate relationship than that of a mother to a child. You will make mistakes - lots of them. You will do many of the things on your "I'd never" list. You will cause heartache in the very same little beings you are so madly in love with. And you will feel inadequate, probably daily.

But if in the midst of all of that you can remain present - with yourself and with your children - you will reach the unattainable goal. You will be *their* perfect mother, the one who never stops trying to be better for them.

So I'm embarking on this never-ending journey in writing at the dawn of 2011 so that I have a tangible, daily reminder to stay present and focused on the goal of positive parenting. Also so that on the days I need encouragement, I can look back and see how far I've come. So that someday, when my children are regaling me with tales of my shortcomings, I can point them here and say, "I tried my best." And finally, in the hopes that some other mother who may happen upon it will no longer feel alone in her failures and inadequacies, and may even offer herself some much needed grace.