T.G.I.F.* (*Freedom Day)

Dear Friends,

I wish I could record and share with you Paige's "gargly-crabby voice."

Phonetically, I guess it would look something like this: "Grrrr-owwlll, grrrr-aaaaghhh, woooooo, ssssttttpp, grrrr-AAAHHHHH!"

I couldn't have said it better myself.

I've been gone the past five evenings, what with Encore business, directing class, rehearsals for It's A Wonderful Life, Reiki training, and an unschooling advocacy teleseminar. All good stuff, and yes, I've been gone a lot, so Paige is missing me.

She is expressing her disappointment, sadness, and longing in the best way she can: with growls, grunts, howls, and yelps. And her whole body is involved in self-expression. If she were in an acting class, the teacher would declare her "Brilliant!"

And, of course, she is. Paige in her fourth year is the purest, blessedly least domesticated of our family, and she is perfection in spirit. I learn from her every day ways to return to my truest, undomesticated, authentic self.

So, if you ask me how I feel on the eve of Ben's final day in the 9 to 5 corporate world (dubbed Freedom Day by us), my response is: "Grrrr--owwwlll, arrrrgggghhhhh, bbbblllaaaggg, ssssfffftttzzz, mmmmm-rrrrr-AAAAAAHHHHHH! GAH-GAH-Grrrrr-AHHHHHHHHH!"

I miss him so much. I yearn for him. I am grieving, howling, angry, desperate, unbridled longing, furious, sad, and AAAAGGGHHHH!

See, mere words cannot quite express how I feel.

You might expect it would be all cheerful here, you know, daisies and roses, butterflies and skipping and dancing and spinning and celebrating, but we're dealing with some grief here, too. Grieving the lost time of the past seven years apart, punctuated by evenings and weekends together, but not fully free, in the here-and-now, sharing every aspect of life. I've covered this before, so I won't get all gooey about it now. I can chalk it all up to sunk cost, and move forward.

My point is, I can feel myself letting down my guard. I am finally allowing all of the feelings I've been keeping at bay: fatigue, rust-out (see my recent post Connecting the Dots), impatience, sadness, anger. I am releasing the sheer energy it takes to hold it all together and muster through another day that is not free until we are all free.

So here it is, our family's Freedom Day. What will I do first with this new-found freedom? Draw? Bake? Organize? Catch up on phone calls? Catch up on sleep?? Maybe I'll just affix myself to Ben's shoulder koala bear-style and hang out there for a few weeks. To connect with and absorb his essence. Mmmmmmmm....

The release of energy heretofore used for surviving shall now be used for thriving. I proclaim it.

Our concrete plans include completing the studio (paint, carpet, arranging, organizing), so I can start teaching lessons again; recreating the family bed; sorting through and allowing our hearts to direct Ben's web-based business prospects; budgeting (good-bye pizza, hello home-prepared dehydrated nuts and veggies); and yes, celebrating!

There might be some growling and howling, some working through and expressing and releasing and grieving and accepting what is, what has been and what will be....and at the end of it all, we will have just this moment, in the present to rejoice and be glad and live and love.

Together. Isn't that the point?

love,
Carrie

Savoring the Bliss

Dear Friends,

When last we met via my blog posts, I was reaching out asking for help achieving my Big Five for Life!

Since then, we have indeed gratefully downsized, and moved to the smaller, more intimate Village of Dexter. It is a charming community, and we are so pleased to be here for several reasons. One is the proximity to my work at The Encore Musical Theatre Company downtown. Another is the cozy house in which we are all physically closer to each other, and very pleased to be so. And, most importantly, we have freed a great deal of our monthly financial burden, taking the pressure off of Ben and his golden handcuffs. Corporate Nine-to-Five-Land is nearly an image in our rearview mirror. Soon, we hope. With the aid of our entrepreneurial ventures, and the encouraging support of you inspiring friends.

I have not written here for the past several months, as I have been instead writing for my local online newspaper, the Dexter Patch, as a Community Blogger! We are putting out the vibe to draw more unschoolers--like-minded, peaceful, respectful, joyful families--to Dexter, Michigan. I predict becoming a community voice will have a favorable effect on establishing the Dexter-Ann Arbor area as a progressive, fun, free environment for raising children and living tribally.

We recently attended the International Rethinking Everything Conference in Dallas, Texas, and were once again moved to further reach our goal of living out ideals of freedom and responsibility.

Here is my recent gratitude list, generated days after attending the RE Conference:

http://dexter.patch.com/blog_posts/savoring-the-bliss

More soon on our developing ideas and plans for living our dreams and building a tribe.

love,
Carrie

Oh, Good, I'm Anemic!

Dear Friends,

Once again I'm typing with one hand, while a little toddler nurses and sleeps on me, and a big toddler stands one foot away from the tv screen fascinated by the adventures of the Rescue Heroes. Having a tv is just one of the many areas I've compromised my initial (and as it turns out, unrealistic) ideals I thought I would adhere to prior to becoming a parent. Incidentally, I've not only accepted having a tv (honestly, it's a lifesaver now that there are two children to care for), but I'm actually quite sold on its benefits for introducing parts of "the world" to, well, frankly, the entire family! But, more on the appealing aspects of television viewing some other time...

No, instead, today I'm writing to share my good news: I am anemic! After recent blood work, my doctor informed me that my hemoglobin levels are slightly low, and recommended I begin supplementing with Floradix Iron + Herbs. A trip to Whole Foods, and a commitment to drinking the ill-flavored elixir twice daily ensued.

Now, many of you know I have a penchant for irony, or at opportune times, even sarcasm. But this time, I assure you I am not being ironic. I am genuinely thrilled to learn of my diagnosis of anemia. Because, you see, it explains sooooo much.

Going back for a moment to some of my pre-parenting ideals: I had expected I could keep up with my kids 100 percent of the time. I thought I could play every game, soothe every hurt, wipe every tear, tandem nurse on cue every time, and anticipate and meet every need of my family. Now, I admit defeat. I can't do it all.

But that's okay! In fact, it's great! What a wonderful accomplishment to try so hard and to apply myself so wholly, and to ultimately discover and honor my limits. And, to model self-care to the children, now that I am starting to get the hang of that, too!

Naturally, there is co-mingled a feeling of disappointment for falling short of one's ideals in the face of reality. Okay, I can grieve that loss and move on. The trouble, however, is that I was feeling really guilty for not doing everything for everybody, not jumping up and running and playing as hard as my kids need to, not cooking every meal from scratch, etc. I thought there was something wrong with me, that I couldn't keep up because I wasn't trying hard enough. I just need to do more; I must push myself harder, I told myself.

Well, there is just too darn much to do and there are too many demands for us stay-at-home moms to attempt to do it all ourselves, even under the best of circumstances and with the most hands-on husbands. I am still learning to ask for help (just ask my similarly independent-minded mother, right Mom?). I'm not superwoman, and I get that.

So, I've eased up on my ideals. We watch tv, eat grab-and-go snacks or--gasp! sometimes even meals, and clear paths through toys and art supplies to find a seat on the couch. I've started accepting offers of assistance. I hired a mother's helper (albeit briefly, as unfortunately that was one of the first sanity-saving expenses to go when my husband became unemployed one month ago). I've been taking steps to relax, recuperate and rest from all the hub-bubbity-bub-bub of daily child-rearing and homemaking.

That's all well and good and noteworthy progress. However, I still found myself unbelievably exhausted every day. And bearing intrusive headaches every day. And intensely nauseous every day. What was going on? Was I just "regular tired" from mothering two toddlers? Was I merely not eating frequently enough, or not drinking enough water with all of the whirlwind activity of Daily Life With Toddlers?

It turns out my new acquaintance, anemia, bears responsibility for many of these recent ailments. It's not that I wasn't trying hard enough, it's that my body couldn't do more because it wasn't processing oxygen efficiently. Aha! No need to feel guilty anymore (of course, there never was a good reason for that in the first place)!

A quick review of the symptoms of anemia from ehealthMD:

What Are The Symptoms Of Anemia?

A person with anemia will feel tired and weak because the body's tissues are being starved of oxygen. In fact, fatigue is the main symptom of most types of anemia. The severity of symptoms is in part related to the severity of anemia. Mild anemia can occur without symptoms and may be detected only during a medical exam that includes a blood test.

Symptoms of anemia include:

Fatigue

Weakness

Fainting

Breathlessness

Heart palpitations (rapid or irregular beating)

Dizziness

Headache

Ringing in the ears (tinnitus)

Difficulty sleeping

Difficulty concentrating

Common signs include:

Pale complexion

The normally red lining of the mouth and eyelids fades in color

Rapid heartbeat (tachycardia)

Abnormal menstruation (either absence of periods or increased bleeding)

What a huge relief for me to finally understand why I'd be wiped out for the day if I hurried around the kitchen tackling a big pile of dishes. I'd end up breathless, with a headache, and have to sit down for the next hour. No wonder I literally could not move from a chair after bending and swooping to clear up toys for half an hour. No wonder I couldn't play endless games of chase up and down the stairs, without my heart pounding in my ears for long afterward.

After I read the common signs and symptoms of anemia, I thought, Hallelujah! I finally get it! And, no more feeling guilty. Or pushing myself beyond my limits. And even better, now I have hope that I will continue to feel better, as anemia is entirely treatable.

Relief. Hope. Peace. Acceptance. Flow. Love.

For myself, my family, my doctor, my access to the internet, my letting go, and yes, even my anemia.

Labor of Love

Dear Friends,

Tonight, I am trying not to wolf my dinner-while I have two hands to eat and my lap is clear-as my husband just arrived home from work, and is playing with the kids upstairs. Ahhh....the joy of literally five minutes to myself.....

Speaking of putting in a full day of work: Time for a rest. Take a breath. Relax. Release. The contraction is over.

The contraction? Yes, the contraction which I will define as one reeeeallly long-let's say roughly 23 hours-period of intense work, requiring my full attention, being fully in the moment, everything-that-came-before-informs-this-instant-in-time, I've-never-worked-this-hard-in-my-life kind of work. And there is an unbelievable reward at the end of it all: fabulous, healthy, nourished, nurtured children.

I've been "on the clock" with at least one child since 8 p.m. last night, when I took one frequent-nursing, teething toddler to bed. It is now 7 p.m. We were up a few hours during the night. I've wanted to weep with exhaustion today, when little Sweetie's nap didn't occur when I wish it had. Fill in the details of chasing after/monitoring/feeding/nursing/playing with/reassuring/snuggling, etc. those two fabulous, energetic, healthy toddlers.

Whew! It is so important to take each break in labor (childbirth/mothering) when it comes! I can't anticipate the work ahead, or lament the work behind. My rest needs to be true, deep, refreshing, recreating, for the creative work that lies ahead. Oops, don't think ahead, don't plan, don't expect...in fact, don't "DON'T." Just be....

Natural childbirth has given me the confidence to parent naturally. I achieved something I never expected I could do. During the most difficult part of my first childbirth labor (yep, transition), I found myself repeating, "I can't..." until my husband assured me, "You CAN. You ARE." Magnificent reflection of reality back to me at a crucial time, by my exceptionally loving and intuitive husband...

You CAN. You ARE. You have everything you need to do this job. Trust your body. Relax between the periods of hard work. KNOW that you can do this. Believe in yourself. Look at your children with kind, refreshed eyes, and appreciate your hard, hard work. You will accomplish unbelievable (BELIEVE anyway!) feats. Find the Divine within yourself. The Strength. The Love.

Oh, good! I hear two tender little voices, one deep one, and gales of laughter heading back down the stairs. I am refreshed and ready for the next contraction. And so very blessed. 

Go With the Flow

Dear Friends,

Typing with one hand - do any other nursing moms out there relate? We grab our moments when we can....Such a classic....

So, last Saturday I decided to run an experiment: Let it flow. See, hidden in here is still my penchant toward controlling, well, everything. "Let." As if it were an option to stop or prevent the flow of the day. Not that I want to stop the flow. I'd prefer to direct it. 

In my more self-benevolent moments, I'd like to reframe this desire to direct as "helping." But at its heart, I know it is bossy, nagging, and manipulative. I suspect it elicits feelings of -at the very least-irritation and at its worst probably beleaguered defeat.

I'm like a border collie, but rather than exhibiting merely herding behavior, I attempt to get everyone to follow my Master Plan. 

Trouble is, my poor family, with me barking and nipping at its heels, is not being allowed to just be.  And I include myself in that group.  And oops, there it is again: "allowed." Permit, let, allow-this language reveals the mindset that I am somehow in charge, or at least trying very hard to be so.

So, here is the truth of the matter. My penchant for controlling, my desire to direct, and help, and herd, is all borne of one thing: fear. Anxiety, what-ifs, how to do it better, how to create the perfect environment for a child's growth. Aha, irony! In trying to micro-manage the members of my family and attempting to orchestrate the order of the day, I end up self-defeated. Instead of freedom, there is lock-down. In place of creativity, there is Carrie's Law of Order. Rather than empowering my husband to develop his parenting skills and explore the children's nuances, my actions undermine the natural unfolding of their relationship.

Hence, my decision to run an experiment last weekend: Let it flow. I intentionally chose that language-"Let"-so I could hang onto that familiar companion: the illusion of control.  I repeated this as my mantra throughout the day. Let it flow. Let it flow.

Here is what I discovered-or actually uncovered: There is a peacefulness underlying letting go. The very anxieties I was trying to eliminate dissolved in the process of letting go. That unreachable itch was soothed when I stopped trying to scratch. The border collie was at rest.

Before making this "aha" discovery, though, I was frankly astonished by the numerous, the bountiful, the sheer multitude of times I stopped myself from jumping in and directing my family's interactions and reminded myself: Let it flow. I am so vigilant and committed to creating a certain ideal living environment, that I can more easily understand why I'm just so incredibly exhausted at the end of every day. Managing  all of the behaviors and communications is too much work, and it's not working.

Okay. So, after catching myself about a hundred times, I stopped stubbornly trying to hold back the river's flow with my two bare hands. And something happened. Without my conscious choice, my mantra changed over several hours. To my surprise, it had become "Go with the flow." I could barely remember starting with "Let...." It just changed. I changed. Without nipping, cajoling, barking, pushing, herding, meddling or suggesting. It simply happened when I let go and just flowed.

And guess what? The world still turned, the day unfolded, the river flowed, and the sheep enjoyed a full day of open, self-directed grazing and bonding.  My heart was filled with more love than ever for my family, and more compassion for myself.