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

Parenting Outside the Box

Dear Friends,

In my most recent blog post, I shared that I have been writing as a community blogger for the Dexter Patch, our local online newspaper. I was recently moved to respond to an opinion article in the Patch, in which another mom asked parents to weigh in on when they start assigning chores to their young children. Her article was entitled "Earning Your Keep."


In an attempt to bridge our apparent differences in parenting philosophies, I reached out across the divide and extended my own thoughts on the subject of not only chores, but how our family communicates and models responsibility for our selves.

When I am in my best space (parenting or otherwise), I am tuned into my intuition and flow in the direction of what resonates with joy in my heart. When I feel connected with my family members, I trust my inner voice and remain aligned with peaceful, loving, respectful co-existence. I put myself in their shoes, and ask myself, "If someone were asking me to help with chores around the house, how would I like to be asked?" 

If someone said to me, "You can't eat (or play or read or be with my friends) until I clean the sink or take out the trash, etc.," I would feel bummed and resentful. On the other hand, if someone invited me to do chores together, and it was a fun, joyful, shared activity, I expect I would feel honored, respected, and helpful. 

My husband and I intentionally put energy into the idea of "being the change you want to see." For us, this means on one level modeling the behaviors (i.e., doing chores, speaking respectfully, eating healthy foods, etc.) that we would hope to see in our children. To be honest that still feels manipulative, in the idea that if I do "x" my child will do "z." It is still based on attempting to shape another's behavior. 

On a deeper level, we actually strive to model self-responsibility. That translates into: when we see something that needs to be cleaned, we clean it. When we interact with others, we are respectful. We eat fruit and vegetables because they nourish our bodies. Our children naturally mimic what they observe. We all do. Kindness begets kindness. Responsibility begets responsibility. 

Our children's response to our actions is merely a by-product. Ultimately the only person any of us truly has control over is ourselves. And teaching our children to take responsibility and modeling kindness and living respectfully and healthily begins with us. Not to be an example, but to simply realize the depth and expanse and beauty of our own potential. 

In peace,
Carrie

Clockwatching 101

Dear Friends,

The battery ran out on my kitchen wall clock last week. I'm not going to replace it. It is now perennially 7:30 in my kitchen. Take your pick of a.m. or p.m. (It's analogue.)

Is anyone else sick of watching the clock during the day? And by sick, I mean exhausted, wrung-out, burned out, just plain kind of done?

I'm talking about those loooooooong hours between, say, 3 p.m. and 6 p.m. You know, those late afternoon hours that have you swearing (in more ways than one) that an extra day got slipped in there somehow? You started out just great, lots of energy (or coffee, for those who rely on caffeine to get through the sleepy times of the day), you hit your stride around 10 a.m., so far, so good; then it's lunch, hey, that's not so bad, halfway there, get your next energy boost (or cup of coffee) after digesting for a bit, return some calls, sink into the afternoon's tasks or activities, then BAM! You think for sure it's about quittin' time--or time for your honey to call and tell you he's on his way home--and GEEZ! It's only 3 p.m. DANG! Who jammed what feels like an entire extra day onto what should be the end of this one? Because it's going to require about 8 more hours worth of energy to get through the next three.


Are you as fed up as I am with those BAM! GEEZ! DANG! days?


"I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!"


I do not want to live my life like that! I love my life! I love my kids! In theory, I want to be with them every second of every day, to soak up and share and discover and explore and just be together.

Well, that's all well and good, but I'll tell you what: I watch that clock from 3 p.m. on many days. When will Ben be home? When will I get a shower? When do I get a break? How am I going to prepare a (wholesome) meal, while monitoring two equally exhausted toddlers, who are also on the cranky downslide to 6 p.m., awaiting the rejuvenating air Ben's evening arrival inevitably brings to our home?

And, I know from personal experience as a former cubicle worker that many of you office-dwellers feel the same way. I've watched clocks on industrial walls just as studiously and--don't bother to forgive the pun--minutely as the clock on my kitchen wall now as a stay-at-home mom.

Today, I taped a little piece of paper over each remaining (working) clock on my microwave and oven displays. I now realize I should write a little reminder to myself on those slips, some affirmation or reassurance or Carpe Diem message. I know I'll see it, because I catch myself glancing there by habit regularly.

What should the message read? Hmmm....ideas....perhaps: Live in the Moment. Peace. Be Open to Divine Inspiration.

Time is merely an arbitrary device to help us track our time here on Earth anyway, isn't it? I get that it's useful if you want to meet friends at a certain time, or arrive at a play or movie before it starts, and such....but, sigh. I know I want to stay present as often as possible in the here and now. Time to break out my Zen books.

In the meantime, let me share some moments when I have experienced that complete presence of mind, body, soul:

labor and childbirth
one on one with Ben
coloring
play-doh with Logan and Paige
movies
watching Glee
acting...especially those shows with a long run, you don't ever have to think
oh, but also an understudy gig I went onstage for one week...all senses were completely open and present
kissing my newborn babies
directing and vocal/acting coaching...love it, love it, love it
tennis: keep your eye on the ball
singing

What do these experiences have in common for me? Presence, energy, joy, peace, intrigue, faith, connection, alertness, immersion...

Now, to enter that land as often as possible...

Do what you love, the money will follow.


Ben, Logan, Paige and I are on a journey to live our lives fully present every day, together. We are exploring. We are rethinking everything. In fact, we are attending the 14th International Rethinking Everything Conference this September in Dallas/Ft.Worth, Texas! You know, come to think of it, the kids are already living this way. So, for Ben and me, it is more of a relearning process, or perhaps a process of unlearning social convention. It's time to think outside the box and put a life together for ourselves, with inspiration from others who have travelled a similar path. Ben is putting together his own list of experiences and passions that speak to his heart and fuel him and in which he finds himself wholly present. It's fun to discover and remember and tune in! Let's see where our lists coincide and then brainstorm together ways to create value for others, in order to earn our livelihood together, including Logan and Paige.

My vision is no more long days without Ben. Our family wants and needs to be together. Will there be opportunities for solo ventures, too? Absolutely. But those will be by choice, not dictated by wage-slavery. You see, we had a taste of freedom during those 11 weeks Ben was unemployed. Even though he was working feverishly to get his web-based genealogy application launched (in case that turned out to be our only immediate source of income) he was still at home. Logan and Paige became accustomed to a daily rhythm that included Daddy. And frankly, so did I. I got to swoop in with hugs and kisses whenever I wanted to. I was able to nap most days. I showered. I had time to prepare nice meals. However, we definitely needed to work more on playing.

I have faith that we can create income for our household by doing the things we love, and become self-actualized in the process, and grow even closer together as a family, while meeting everyone's needs. Theater, creativity, art, business, music, relationships, connections, unschooling, personal growth, fulfillment, passions, dreams, presence.

I have a lot more to say about this, but I'll admit I did just sneak one little peek at the clock on my laptop, and I need to go to sleep! Paige has been asleep for four hours, and I'd better follow my advice to all mommies: sleep when the baby (or toddler) does.

Stay tuned, my friends. We are on a really cool journey, and invite you to come along with us. For me, it all starts with becoming more deeply aware of my passions and dreams and how to live them out. How to construct a life that answers the call to LIVE life to its fullest. And, I'll tell you right now, clockwatching is not part of the new vision.

Let your clock batteries run out. Don't replace them. See what happens next.

The Plight of the Stay At Home Mom

Dear Friends,

Look, I don't like to complain.

Wait, who am I kidding? I love to complain! It helps to relieve stress, it can be expressed in the form of nicely organized lists, and besides, I'm good at it.

But when it comes right down to it, I know I've got it just great here. Let me first highlight a few of the remarkable and invaluable benefits of being a Stay-At-Home-Mom (SAHM)—in a nice, neat list:

1) The children get 100 percent me. Wonderful for attachment, emotional development, constancy, security, and steady love, love, love. Oh, and it's good for the kids, too.

2) Ideal for unschooling. More on this in future posts, but let me summarize briefly: child-led learning via shared life experiences. I am fully present to share and learn and discover with the children.

3) I have always wanted a job with no commute, no set schedule, and no dress code. I used to eagerly anticipate "casual Friday" jeans, but heck, now I get to wear pajamas all the time!

4) Such a savings on buying professional clothing, paying dry cleaning bills, and spending time coordinating shoes with belts. Now I might as well sell my iron on craigslist. (Oh, hey, that's a good idea--anybody need an iron in like-new, barely-used condition?)

5) More homemade meals, more homemaking, more housekeeping...but wait, I said I wasn't going to complain....

6) More flexible hours. For instance, I am typing this at 5:45 a.m. with one hand while nursing a finally sleepy, teething toddler who has been up since 2:53 a.m. working on erupting two-year molars while watching Bob the Builder construct houses on-site. (See, my daughter may be a budding multi-tasker already, too.) On second thought, maybe I don't want to delve into the 24/7 work hours of a full-time Mommy on the "benefits" list....

Full-time. Full-time. It's not the 40-hour work week anymore. Dude, that would be a breeze, compared to the 168-hour work week I've got going now. I've never worked harder in my life than in my current position as Mommy. And for the first year, I actually tried to do both: work outside the home and be a full-time mommy. Even though financially we were able to make ends meet on just one income (ah, if only we had one of those right now! More on the subject of my husband's unemployment below...), I initially resisted stopping work outside the home. It took me almost a year to figure out why.

Prior to 2005, I had spent my entire adult life as the primary breadwinner. I felt capable, competent, and confident. I was respected, relied upon, and—gosh—paid. The transition from former full-time career woman to SAHM, who completely relies on someone else for financial security—and food, clothing (well, fresh pajamas), housing, etc.—was incredibly difficult for me. It turned out to be a huge identity adjustment. It wasn't just a matter of a change in my source of income; it was a shift in who I am.

Although I tried to keep steadily (albeit part-time) working while full-time mothering for the first year, I was overwhelmed. Fortunately, between my own introspection and a series of conversations with my insightful and concerned husband, I came to my senses. It became evident what was best for us all. As my parenting philosophy developed, I discovered that my enjoyment of work, my professional accomplishments and my self-esteem boost from career successes, were far superceded by my joy and zeal for living Life with our children.

So, great! Faith conquers fear. I was afraid to rely on someone else to take care of me financially. I had worked hard to establish myself professionally, so I was afraid of losing ground on the career-building steps I had taken, and the professional relationships and networking opportunities I had cultivated. I had difficulty trusting my trustworthy husband to be there for me 100 percent. (Without going into great detail, let me just share that my husband is the first responsible grown-up with whom I have been in a relationship as an adult. More some other time about why I used to choose partners who seemed to need a parent themselves!). I was afraid I would lose myself in dirty diapers, baby drool, and applesauce-soaked onesies.

Well, I was called upon to take a leap of faith, and that I did. I jumped off this full-time mothering cliff and realized I could soar! Although the responsibility is immense, the rewards are bigger and better than anything I could have imagined. Even future professional successes I might envision would be empty without this amazing family to share them. Right now, I love being a SAHM, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love cooking and doing art projects and snuggling in the middle of the day and packing a picnic if it's sunny and building elaborate train tracks if it rains. I have profound freedom and flexibility in my time with the kids, and I am immeasurably grateful for that.

So how can I possibly complain? I have embraced a broadened and preferred identity. I have a family to share everything with. I am building my confidence in a new field: mothering these children. I have no set schedule, no dress code, no commute, so now what's wrong? Weeeeeeeeeellll, it's that little thing I alluded to earlier: no income. Talk about having your faith tested!

Fortunately, my husband is a reliable (and loving and generous and dear...) provider. Unfortunately, being a proficient, knowledgeable, hard-working, responsible, and loyal employee is no longer assurance that you will still have a job. Companies no longer "take care of their own." So, it's here today and gone tomorrow; be cautious walking to your desk, 'cuz one morning you may be confronted by news of an unexpected early-morning meeting added to your schedule late after business hours the evening before, entitled "Structural Re-Organizational Meeting," the guest list of which includes yourself, your immediate supervisor, and--gulp!--HR. Pack your plants and family photos, and you'll be back home by 10 a.m. with a banker's box, a sheaf of severance papers, and a bewildered expression.

So, how does a SAHM handle this news? Geez, I thought we were all set (kind of). We'd made all sorts of adjustments, transformations, acceptances, and budget cuts to embrace our one-income household. If there were ever a more appropriate time for the Serenity Prayer, I'd be surprised. My husband becoming unemployed is entirely out of my control. And, for better or worse, his regaining unemployment is pretty much out of my hands, too. Very briefly--for about five seconds--we considered my returning to work. But our kids are too small and (thankfully, blissfully, healthily) attached to Mommy. Plus, I can't earn the same money Ben can in his field.

My new job, then, is to not freak out. Keep a calm port. Provide loving moral support. Do not nag or keep tabs (ah, the hand-wringing approach does neither of us any good!). I am being called upon to dig deep in my emotional and spiritual wells to just be. And trust. And think creatively and offer ideas.

It has been nearly five weeks now (ahem, yes, I'm counting) of accepting the situation, calming myself, reassuring and encouraging my husband, keeping normalcy for the children, and further whacking our budget to live like country church mice. As a friend of mine noted, a spouse becoming unemployed when there is only one household income is the stay-at-home-mom's (or dad's) "worst nightmare." Well, yes, of course financially it is. But you know what else? This is also an unanticipated opportunity to count our blessings. We are healthy. We are safe. We are warm. We are surrounded by loving extended family and friends like you, who have reached out and given generously to us with prayers, suggestions, networking opportunities, pizzas, moral support, and love. And that can soothe any mother's and family's spirits.

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.

Why Can't You Behave?

Dear Friends,

Today, Ben didn't do what I wanted him to do. He misbehaved. He hit another person, so I hit him on the behind, just so he knows that hurting is unacceptable behavior. He ran into the street, so I yelled at him and grabbed his arm, just so he knows that is dangerous. He wouldn't eat the food I gave him, so I explained he could either eat that food, or none at all, because I didn't have time to be a short order cook. He wouldn't eat at the table, at the time I served dinner, so I told him that he could wait to eat, since we don't eat anywhere but at the table.

Ben was super dirty, but refused to take a shower, so I picked him up and plunked him in there anyway for a quick wash. Same with brushing his teeth, washing his hands, and changing his clothes—I mean, who wants to live with someone all dirty?

And don't get me started on bedtimes! If Ben will not go to sleep when I want him to, alone in a room down the hall, at the time I think it should be "bedtime," then there is going to be trouble. The best I can do is tell him it is "quiet time," leave him with a book—well, he can't read yet, so I guess a quiet toy—and shut the door, so I can have a little down-time.

When Ben yells at me, I take away his iPhone. When he throws something, I take away his laptop.  When he grabs something that doesn't belong to him, I snatch it out of his hand and give it back to the person. When Ben does anything I don't like, I pull him out of the room for a "time out," and sit down with him to explain all of the reasons his behavior is unacceptable.

I have read lots of magazine articles and online advice about how to control Ben and get him to behave how I think he should. I understand I must be persuasive, firm, tough if necessary; I must use discipline, time-outs, punishment, physical force as a last resort, and of course take away privileges.

Yelling, hitting, crying, grabbing, pushing, threatening, wiggling, running into the street, eating cookies in the living room, playing wildly at bedtime, refusing to bathe, being loud during naptime, forgetting to feed the dog, not helping with the dishes and housecleaning—what's a wife to do? 

No, I don't mean "mother." I mean "wife." What if my husband were not behaving in ways that I want him to? What if his actions did not fit the behaviors I expect and have in mind as "ideal"?

So here it is: If I attempted to "correct" my spouse the same way mainstream society would have me "correct" my child, we would be in a world of hurt.

If I hit, grabbed, yelled at, took treasured items away from, dragged into a time out room, forced into a bathtub, put a toothbrush in his mouth, insisted he eat at the table and only certain foods at certain times, and went to bed when I said so—to my husband? You would think I were a crazy woman. And if my husband did that to me? You would advise me to head to the nearest domestic violence shelter with the kids.

Okay. So there has to be another way. A gentler way. A loving, kind, respect-filled way to parent.

Perhaps I can start by trying to understand my children's behavior. What are they trying to express? Do they have all the skills and tools of communication they need to navigate relationships, share toys, and deal with feelings of frustration and helplessness in a world of controlling grown-ups?

I can envision a kinder, more peaceful world where, rather than trying to orchestrate my children's behaviors, I instead strive to lovingly model the behaviors that I'd like to see more of—both in my children and in myself (and maybe even in my spouse, for that matter).

Perhaps through their behavior, children are expressing an unmet need in the best way they can, given their limited life experience. Perhaps my family would be better off if I directly address what might be going on: attempt to figure out their need and then do my very best to fulfill it. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention, and my child is communicating a mutual need to slow down and re-connect. Maybe we both need a "time-in" to snuggle up and eat cookies together on the couch. I have seen in action that when I make respectful requests of my children, they have learned to do that of me and others. What if my children had dirty hair for a week—is my relationship with them more important than a loss of dignity from being bodily forced into the bathtub? I say YES!

...

I'm back to finish this post. After percolating on this subject for the past 24 hours, I realize it all boils down to this: If I wouldn't treat my spouse this way—controlling, cajoling, forcing, persuading, and otherwise trying to mold him into my idea of "right" behavior—then I will not treat my child this way. My child is a fraction of my size, has not even a fraction of my power in the relationship, and is entirely vulnerable and dependent on me for their very life. I will treat this gift with care. My children are precious and inquisitive and learning each moment about every aspect of Life. They are watching my every move as to how I treat them and others. And I want to model my idea of "right" behaviors—my ideals—and pass those along in the most loving, gentle, cooperative, kind and respectful way possible.

Have I yelled at my children? Yes. Have I grabbed, nagged, pressured, threatened to take things away, and set arbitrary limits? Unfortunately, yes. Am I proud of those moments? No! Every time I have attempted to follow mainstream's guide to childrearing, I have instead experienced a profound dis-connect with my children and my internal guide of how I wish to be (call it a conscience). I am continually learning how to love my children better, how to parent better, how to be more compassionate and patient with them and especially with myself (and hey, how about my spouse here, too).

More than anything, I am learning how to become the person I hope my children will admire and ultimately wish to emulate. There can be no greater legacy than this.

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.