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Vacation, Phase 1: Disneyland and California Adventure

Jul4

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping and I have been torn about whether or not to do any California trip recap posts the way I had intended. I had a lot of thoughts, observations, tips, and memories that I felt like sharing, but as more time has passed the “have to” element is starting to feel burdensome rather than enriching. I took all the pictures though and thought of the tips…

We flew into LAX on a Wednesday, rented a van and then drove to Anaheim where we stayed in the Clarion Anaheim. I specifically picked the hotel because it had a little café in it in which kids could eat free breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There was no free breakfast for adults, but I figured that was outweighed by the kids also being able to dinner for free. The little restaurant was called the Palm Tree Cafe and it was so good. I read mixed reviews online, but the paninis we had there were truly the food-highlight of our entire vacation. We never ended up eating better food anywhere else that we stayed during the whole two weeks. Of course, hunger is the best seasoning and all and when we staggered in exhausted from our Disney fun, we were so grateful to have food that it was the best food on earth. The breakfast buffet was really good also with lots of fresh fruit and also bacon. And, the dishes were all real—cloth napkins, real forks, etc. I feel like the hotel choice was smart for the food, but it was longer walk from Disneyland than I anticipated and we ended up having to buy the ART pass after all so we could take a shuttle to and from the park. It wasn’t expensive and it was totally worth it.

We did walk to Downtown Disney on Wednesday night and we also walked home from the park one afternoon and to it one morning.  We accidentally were there during the Monster summer event (celebrating the release of Monsters University) in which the park was open 24 hours and it was also Memorial Day weekend. Pretty unexpected bad moves for us! Oh yeah, and it was also Grad Night on both Friday and Saturday nights, for which all the graduating high school seniors in the state were there for a special event (apparently 10,000 of them, I read!). In hindsight, since we had three-day park hopper passes, we totally should have gone to the park for half a day the day we arrived on a Wednesday, rather than going on the Saturday of Memorial Day for a partial day. I guarantee that Wednesday afternoon/evening would have been more “productive” than Saturday was. Thank goodness we had Thursday and a “Magic Morning” (get in one hour early) that day, because Friday night (the 24 hour event night) was insane and Saturday was pretty horrible after about noon (it only opened at 10:00 a.m. on Saturday too, which was a bummer).

Things I wanted to remember to say or wish I had remembered to do:

  • Needed long-sleeves for the kids–it was surprisingly chilly a lot of the time.
  • and needed hats to protect from sun. Mark, Alaina, and I all had one, but the boys did not.
  • the Ergo was an absolutely life-saver. I do not know what we would have done without it. Alaina rode in it constantly. I joked that I felt like I was “two years pregnant” because of how I waddled all over the park with her strapped to my chest. (I’ve never been one for the back carry with the Ergo—it puts pressure on my neck/shoulders that way and feels like it is pulling me over backwards. It also gives me tension headache-migraine-of-awfulness, which I had the entire first day, but ignored in the spirit of fabulous fun, even though a part of me imagined drilling several small holes in my skull to let out the pressure. On the front, we’re golden, except for the two-years-pregnant waddle and the slight ridiculousness of carrying a massive person around on your chest instead of back.)
  • a nice, everyone-wins compromise about expensive food in the parks is to get things to share so that everyone gets a “taste” of park food and then supplement with packed snacks or leave the park to eat other food. For example, we went to the Hungry Bear restaurant, but instead of getting a whole lunch for everyone, we got a chicken sandwich for the adults to split and one kids meal for the kids to split and two of the big, fancy lemon cupcakes for the family to split—so, everyone got to enjoy the satisfaction of eating a fancy cupcake, without actually having to buy five of them! This cut down on some of the bugging from the kids about buying food all of the time, but saved us money. And, btw, the boys didn’t even finish eating their entire pieces of the split-in-thirds $6 cupcake, so I’m triply glad I didn’t buy them each one!)
  • I read a tip online that if you are doing Disney with young kids, you should to go back to your hotel room for a midday siesta and recharge time–this would be during the hottest part of the day when things haven gotten crowded. Then, go back over in the late afternoon when daytime visitors are heading home. We did this on Friday and it was a good choice, because we were able to eat our beloved, life-saving paninis at the Palm Tree Cafe and rest a bit, before heading back into what had become madness.
  • If children are bugging for yet another treat, go to the Ghiradelli chocolate store at California Adventure and they’ll give you free chocolates!
  • Good shoes really matter. Even though they didn’t match my outfits, I brought my favorite pair of Teva Terradactyls to wear and never regretted it.

Here is my Facebook summary of our Disneyland and California Adventure adventure:

Thursday at Disney was great. We ran ourselves ragged and were exhausted and hungry, but we did almost everything there was to do at Magic Kingdom. We had a “Magic Morning” on our tickets for that morning, so we got in an hour early. Plus, we quickly learned that Alaina was our best “fast pass” ever and took the slightly scammish approach of collecting as many rider switch passes as we could in the morning when lines were short and then going back in the afternoon and actually using them when lines were longer. We felt like we’d gotten our money’s worth and fully “done” Disneyland by the end of the day on Thursday. On Friday, the parks opened at 6:00 in the morning and so we did California Adventure that day. It was pretty good in the morning though headliner rides were closed until 9:00, which was obnoxious, but smaller rides were walk right on affairs. The big Cars ride was a different story, but we worked the single rider line and the rider switch (because of Alaina) and got it done swiftly too. We also looked pathetic enough, I guess, at the Toy Story ride, which was the last ride we hadn’t done there, that the entrance guy gave us a special pass to come back in an hour and go straight through the fast pass entrance.

Most of the smaller rides remained walk right on or maybe 15 minutes—so, Little Mermaid was gone on like five times or more and the Monster’s Inc ride and Muppets 3D, etc. were all easy access as were all the little rides in Bug’s Land (Alaina’s favorite) and things like Mater’s Tractors in Cars Land. It was the night when it started to get insane–we went back to Disneyland thinking we’d do a few things before Fantasmic and it was an awful mob scene over there that was virtually unwalkable (but, it was how I worried the whole three days might be, so I shouldn’t complain that it was really only that time). We found a place for Fantasmic that was actually good viewing because we stood behind the chairs for the premium viewing, which meant people were sitting and thus we could see over them. And, the nice people in front of us said our kids could come stand in front of them so they could see even better. They actually closed access to Fantasmic then and wouldn’t let anyone else in to that section of the park. When it was over, we staggered slowly away through unbelievable crowds and out a “secret escape route” we were directed through that took us behind the kitchens and where the Jungle Boats are stored and stuff like that. Handily, we watched the fireworks as we staggered and then went gratefully to the hotel even though it was not even 10:00 and the parks were still open until 6:00 in the morning!

On Saturday, the parks didn’t open until 10:00 and were already pretty busy. We did as many favorite rides as we could and got some rider switch passes for big ones and fast passes for Space Mountain (Lann actually ended up going on Star Tours four different times thanks to our fab strategies), but it quickly turned into even 45 minute waits for things like Alice and Roger Rabbit. We went back to California Adventure and did some final rides there, either on the little kids stuff which still was only five-minute waiting, or to things we’d gotten switch passes for in the morning (so, we successfully did Cars with less than a 20 minute wait two different times, even though the regular line was 120 minutes and the line to even get a fast pass was crazy). So, it wasn’t really THAT bad, all things considered! 🙂 We just had to push really hard and drag kids to things they were saying they were too tired for, because we knew it was getting worse all the time. We were worn out! But, we got our money’s worth anyway! Legoland was much slower paced.

In general, I feel like maybe we actually pushed too hard—I felt like we didn’t have enough food, enough clothes, enough water, enough sleep, or enough rest pretty much the whole time and the kids got pretty whiny and complained a lot more than I ever did at Disneyland as a kid (and my mom was the exact same kind of pusher that I was, so it wasn’t that I had a more laidback time—getting our money’s worth is a powerful motivator in this family!). We walked a LOT and got pretty exhausted and depleted (the kids more than the adults—I felt pretty hyped up and almost “manic” the whole time!). The kids all had colds and mild fevers for at least one of the days. Mark got horrible “burns” on the backs of his knees from his shorts rubbing against them and I got a similar spot on my shoulder from my hat. All of our feet ached like crazy by the end of the day even with our carefully selected good shoes–I felt like perhaps I wore my heels to the bone! I feel like our kids will mainly remember excessive walking and being hustled from one place to another and usually getting NO for an answer about buying more and more and more expensive snacks, rather than all the fun we actually had once we got on the rides!

While I toted Alaina around in the Ergo for hours (often while nursing) at Disneyland and Legoland, I also had a lot of reminders that she is not really a baby anymore: strolling up to real babies to check them out and saying gently, “hi, baby!” with her knees bent slightly, head inclined, and hand outstretched in friendly manner; riding on genuine rollercoasters at three theme parks while laughing and (fake) screaming and raising her hands in the air and saying “fun!”; crabby expression and raised hands and “yes, bigger!” when told she is too small to ride something…she’s a real girl now!

Pictures, pictures, pictures! (Click on any to enlarge to full size and then scroll through like a slide show, rather than peering at the tiny gallery pictures)

We left after the parade and drove to Carlsbad, California to prepare to go tourmaline mining!

Of Coconut Oil and Maternal Shame

Jun29

“It’s not your job to like me, it’s mine.” ~ Byron Katie

I planned to write this post on Thursday and I was going to open my imaginary post with: today has been one of those days. I didn’t manage to post, so I was going to post on Friday and say, yesterday was one of those days. Well, guess what, Friday turned on to be one of those days too and now it is two o’clock in the morning on Saturday…and no post yet! I’ve been hitting some parenting roadblocks lately and having some unpleasant moments with my kids. Moments that I’m not proud of and that feature me crying on the floor in the pile of broken glass (and broken dreams?!) as well as saying harsh things I later regret. Alaina isn’t sleeping well at night and I’m at that point in toddler nursing where I spend more time feeling assaulted than I do feeling warmly bonded. On Thursday, she kept me up until 4:00 a.m. and I felt trapped in a “hell dimension.” However, as is often true of mothering, sweet moments alternate with hell dimensions. That morning as I was trying to finally sneak away from her, she flopped toward me and mumbled in her sleep: babies love em mamas. Yep, they sure do! Earlier this month, she charmed my heart by commenting: “Me love mine daddy Mark.” Taking a couple of steps back shows me that being literally exhausted does not contribute to my parenting reserves and does not, actually, mean I’m a bad parent after all. I’ve been known to tell students in my Child Welfare class that worrying about being a “bad mother” usually means you aren’t one. I need to take my own advice.

So, I identified with this article about the whole notion of “mommy guilt” and how the phrase may actually be a cover for a more insidious and culturally-induced mommy shame:

Just one problem: “mommy guilt” isn’t really guilt at all, but rather shame. And shame, unlike guilt which is a useful and sometimes appropriate emotion, shame is just harmful. Guilt is “I made a bad choice”, while shame is “I am bad”. Guilt is something that helps us to notice when we’ve made an error that we need to correct. Shame makes us feel as though there is nothing we can do to make it better other than change who we are. Of course, changing behaviors is one thing; changing who you are as a person is another (impossible) thing entirely.

via “Mommy Guilt” is a Misnomer – Mothering Community.

I think a lot depends on personality. I know a lot of mothers who do not seem to take things that happen with their kids as personally as I do. Just yesterday, we had an incident during which my boys experienced a catastrophic brain failure and had a mayonnaise fight on the porch front of the house while I was trying to get ready for company. I ended up crying and ranting to myself about my pathetic talents as a parent (because I said something pretty mean to them about their lack of brain-powers). Another friend commented, “let me get this straight: your kids throw mayonnaise around and you’re the one who cries and thinks you did something wrong?” Um, yes, that’s me. I also explain to my students that it is really painful to know better and to watch yourself do it anyway. It stinks. Knowing a lot about the right way to do something, for me, gives me a lot more options of things to feel guilty or bad about! Isn’t that FUN?! As I previously wrote:

Being a mindful mama can be painful.

I am acutely aware of how often I fail, mess up, and let myself down in this work of conscious mothering. When I decide to go through a drive-through after a long day in town, I am very aware of each preservative laden, saturated fat heavy, factory-farmed, non-fair trade bite that crosses our lips. When I’m tired and have low energy for responsive parenting and I say “yes” my boys can watch a DVD, I know I am using it as a “babysitter” and as a “plug-in drug.” I cringe to hear myself say at times, “you guys are driving me crazy!” It is painful to know better and to watch myself do it anyway.

Instead of an inner guide, I too often listen to my inner critic. My judge. The perfect mama that sits on my shoulder and lets me know how often I screw it all up. I laugh sometimes as I reference the invisible panel of “good parents” that sits in my head judging me and finding me lacking.

For me, being a mindful mama is bound up in complicated ways with being a perfect mama; a “good mother.” In this way, it is NOT true mindfulness—I respond to my children based on how I think I should respond, how a “good mindful mama” would respond, not necessarily based on what is actually happening. Too often, I respond as I believe Dr. Sears, Jon Kabat-Zinn, or Marie Winn (The Plug in Drug) thinks I should respond, not based on reality or how we feel in the moment. This is the antithesis of true mindfulness. Mindfulness means an awareness of what is, it does not mean a constant monitoring of how I have failed. If I cannot be flexible and compassionate with myself, how do I expect to be a flexible and compassionate mother?

via Mindful Mama: Presence and Perfectionism in Parenting | Talk Birth.

Though I wrote this essay something like four years ago, I’ve not yet corrected this tendency and my desire to be able to do so, guess what, gives me something else to beat myself up over! I call this, “berating self for self-beratement” and then I berate self for berating self for self-beratement. Repeat. I am an introvert and I do enjoy my own company very much, but sometimes it is mean and mind-twisting company that I keep.

This post initially began because after the previously referenced night trapped in a non-sleeping hell dimension, an entire brand-new jar of organic coconut oil got smashed all over the kitchen floor by Alaina, because I foolishly dared to dash quickly to the bathroom while cooking. While cleaning it up, my other children did not grasp that asking me to tie their bathing suits at the moment was NOT A GOOD IDEA. Enter the mother-crying-on-the-floor-in-pile-of-broken-glass-coconut-oil-and-broken-dreams scenario previously alluded to. The whole experience stemmed from not listening to my own need to go to the freaking bathroom before fixing lunch. Duh. How basic. I just wrote about that this same week. I ran through the shoulding, the scolding, the self-beratement, the catastrophizing, a touch of martyrdom (everything I do is about trying to help my kids and now look!), a touch of guilt-tripping and blame (couldn’t you have noticed and stopped her?!), some yelling, some I can’t believe its, some semi-screaming about how is going to the BATHROOM REALLY SO MUCH TO ASK, some ranting about how coconut oil costs $9 a jar and why don’t I just throw dollars all over the floor and then sweep them into the trash, and then culminating in a hysterical diatribe about “what am I teaching my kids about handling simple little no-big-deal mistake by acting like it is the end of the world? THIS is how you’re going to grow up and think you should handle things.” SOB!!!!!!!!!!!

I read this on Facebook and said oh yeah:

One zen student said, “My teacher is the best. He can go days without eating.”
The second said, “My teacher has so much self-control, he can go days without sleep.”
The third said, “My teacher is so wise that he eats when he’s hungry and sleeps when he’s tired.”

And, I read this too:

If you ever see me out and about with my kids, you might be surprised at some of the interactions you might witness. For example, If you and I were in the same store today, you might have overheard my comment to my son that went something like this: “NO! You can’t!”

It didn’t exactly come out of nowhere; there was context. But that was about the extent of it. There was no empathy, no connection, no acknowledgement of what he wished he could do, no communication of understanding, no “I can tell that you reeeaallly wish you could take that toy home; We’re not getting it, and it’s OK to be sad about that.” Just a snappy, rude no.

If you saw me then and didn’t know me, it might surprise you to learn that I write and teach classes on positive parent-child relations. And if you do know me and saw that little outburst, it might surprise you to see me communicate to my child in this manner. And no matter what you might think of me based on this interaction you may have witnessed today, I won’t be offended. Because…

I know my son.
I know myself.
I know positive parenting.

I know that was not an example of positive parenting.

I know positive parenting is not based on one interaction.
I know my son will be OK.
I know we’ve had plenty of awesome parent-child moments before this one.
I know there will be plenty more.

I know our relationship will be OK.

I know other moms have moments just like this everyday.
I know they’re good moms.
I know I’m a good mom.

I know that in every situation, context matters, judgement never helps, and those moments are just small parts of a larger whole. Fortunately, parenting looks different for everyone and perfect for no one.

Kelly Bartlett

I was heard to lament on Friday afternoon that I worry that I’m a better writer than I am a person. I get complimented on my “lovely words” and “beautiful poems” and I think, how come I can write lovely words and then still yell at my kids? I’m horrible! (The maternal shame card is strong with this one.) And, I reminded myself of something I already wrote:

Womenergy moved humanity across continents, birthed civilization, invented agriculture, conceived of art and writing, pottery, sculpture, and drumming, painted cave walls, raised sacred stones and built Goddess temples. It rises anew during ritual, sacred song, and drumming together. It says She Is Here. I Am Here. You Are Here and We Can Do This. It speaks through women’s hands, bodies, and heartsongs. Felt in hope, in tears, in blood, and in triumph.

via Womenergy (Womanergy) | Talk Birth.

I also came upon a very old partial essay that I wrote when my second son was about two in which I tried to convey the every day, sometimes simultaneous and paradoxical dualism of parenting:

Every day I succeed. Every day I fail.
Every day I listen. And I say, “I can’t listen to you right now” or “PLEASE stop talking.”
Every day I am patient and impatient.
Every day I savor and cherish. And every day I am resentful and frustrated.
Every day I am focused and attentive and also distracted.
Every day I play and every day I say, “I can’t play right now.”
Every day I say yes. And no. Every day I say, “sure, why not?” and also, “now is NOT the time.”
Every day I hug and snuggle. Every day I say, “please stop hanging on me.”
Every day I please and disappoint.
Every day I center and pause appreciatively in the moment. And, every day I rush and hurry.
Every day I watch and notice and every day I say, “not now, I’m busy.”
Every day I am responsive and every day I am frazzled and DONE.
Every day I rise and fall.
Every day I hope and despair.
Every day I am captivated and captive.
Every day I offer guidance and a bad example.
Every day I am consistent and inconsistent.
Every day I make myself proud and I let myself down.
Every day I embrace and pull away.
Every day I am clear and confused.
Every day I am decisive and indecisive.
Every day I am empathetic and “I don’t have time for this!”
Every day I am encouraging and discouraging.
Every day I feel bonded and bound.
Every day I support myself and make myself crazy!
Every day I give and every day I feel completely done giving.
Every day I permit and deny.
Every day I feel a sense of promise and a sense of being denied.
Every day I am calm and exasperated.
Every day I am gentle and harsh.

Every day I hold and tend and nurture and protect.

Every day I am a good mother and every day I am a “bad” mother.

There are no absolutes.

On that coconut oil bad day, I then packed up the kids and went to the river, where they walked adorably in the water together:

June 2013 011Caught crawdads:

June 2013 015

And helped each other in ways that warmed my weary and critical heart:

June 2013 018

June 2013 020

20130627-225353.jpg

The forced perspective in this one makes me laugh as well as the fact that it kind of looks like she’s carrying two tiny brothers!

But, lest this be a too-tidy wrap-up of my post, while at the river, bugs crawled on our legs, the kids whined a lot, people sat on the cracker sandwiches I was making, the cheese I brought was actually rotten, and we forgot our crawdad catchers and I once again expressed non-positive-parenting sentiments about children’s brain-powers since I had reminded them to get the damn crawdad catchers like 8 billion times. The dualism again.

We got home and got ready for Lann’s tae kwon do class in the whirlwind and as I was about to leave, I saw THIS:

20130627-225411.jpgWhat’s this you say? Here is another look…

20130627-225405.jpgYes, that would be some kind of Ben 10 action figure stuck to my wall with playdoh. WTH?!?!?!?! This is the very same playdoh that I complained about earlier in the day when finding the container empty—“hey guys, where did the playdoh go? Hey guys, can you find that green playdoh, I don’t want it to get stepped on somewhere.” When I saw this, I could only laugh.

And, then we went to watch Lann take his test for a yellow belt. We were adorable as we watched:

20130627-225437.jpgLann did a good job overall…

20130627-225649.jpgWe went to get ice cream and I was charmed again by the adorableness of my offspring and their friend hanging out:

20130627-225448.jpgThere are no absolutes 

just life as it unfolds

and I watch

and tell about it.

Tuesday Tidbits: Wild Woman

Jun18

Women are the most beautiful embodiment of empowered awakening. We breathe life into the world with the heave of our body, sing the sacred into song with our soul, and heal the deepest of wounds with our boundless heart. Our time has come. Love is calling us all to remember the eternal ecstasy of Being. Now is the time. Now is the place. Love is here pressing itself into the moment. Love calls us to remember the universal creative pulse. Love calls all of humanity to its embrace. Love calls for women to claim their deepest truth, to create their greatest gift, and to rise from the ashes of a yesterday gone, to rise to fulfill authentic self. We women are awakening. We women are empowering. We women are rising. I am a woman rising.

~ Ani Kaspar

wildwoman

via Wild Woman Sisterhood on Facebook

This past weekend was the La Leche League of Missouri conference. I absolutely love these conferences and always learn so much, usually things I can use instantly. At this conference, I gave two presentations. The first was about miscarriage and grief and was sparsely attended, but pretty powerful. The second was about Moontime and it was really crowded! The participants were a diverse crowd and I felt a little unsure of my ability to connect with all of them without being excessively “woo woo.” Though, I expressed that concern in a comment on another woman’s blog post and I got this wonderful remark in return: I was just listening to an online interview with Sonia Choquette where she said that “woo woo” should be “where it’s at,” meaning that when we’re “woo woo,” we’re actually connecting to our authentic self, being in touch with our intuition, etc.

I’m going to remember this in the future—woo woo is where it’s at! 😉

Anyway, one of the things I shared during my talk is that mothers of small children are more likely to have PMS than anyone else—it is partly because our bodies call out to us to rest and be alone and we often can’t be when we have little babies that need us. It really, really does help with all pre-menstrual symptoms to be able to take some time to yourself to rest and rejuvenate rather than staying “on” all the time. Several women emailed me with follow-up questions and so here are the links and resources that I suggested for them:

Check out Miranda Gray’s website, particularly her free handouts. Deanna L’am is another favorite resource and she has resources for pre-moontime daughters as well.  Oh, and Tisha Lin’s Pleasurable Periods is another good resource as well as The Happy Womb from Lucy Pearce which has a free ebook about having a happy, healthy menstrual cycle. I’ve been digging into this subject a lot over the past year—any posts I’ve written are here. I’m also really liking the book I recently got called Honoring Menstruation by Lara Owen.

Bringing it back to the Wild Woman, I also shared a quote previously shared here:

“…Could it be that women who get wild with rage do so because they are deeply deprived of quiet and alone time, in which to recharge and renew themselves?

Isn’t PMS a wise mechanism designed to remind us of the deep need to withdraw from everyday demands to the serenity of our inner wilderness? Wouldn’t it follow, then, that in the absence of quiet, sacred spaces to withdraw to while we bleed — women express their deprivation with wild or raging behaviors?…” –DeAnna L’am via Occupy Menstruation

And, this book project recently caught my eye: Blood Sister, Moon Mama: a Celebration of Womanly Ways – submissions for a new book

Less related, but cool, I also just downloaded The Creative Joy Workbook (free!) from the incomparable Jennifer Louden.

For me, honoring moontime in my own life is very much about taking it to the body and listening to myself in the way in which I learned to do during pregnancy, birth, postpartum, and lactation. So, I loved this quote I spied on Facebook late last night:

Your body is your own.
This may seem obvious.
But to inhabit your physical self fully,
with no apology, is a true act of power.
This sovereignty over your body may need to be cultivated.
Most of us have been colonized; other people’s ideas, desires,
and expectations have taken hold in our flesh. It takes some time
and effort to reclaim our own terrain.

Own yourself. Say no when you need to.
Only then can you say yes…

– Camille Maurine, Meditation Secrets for Women (via TheGypsyPriestess)

I have read this book and actually have used part of the quote on my own before, but it spoke to me again in this different medium last night.

I’ve also written about the thoroughly embodied act of motherhood and likewise enjoyed this snippet via Facebook as well:

Nitty Gritty Motherhood | Theresa Martin

Motherhood came as quite a shock to me. It was just so… physical. It was often messy and gritty. Without motherhood, I probably could have lived my whole life without being truly present for any of it.

But as I reflect, it seems so much of a female’s life is just so physical.

Take menstruation for example, that first initiation into womanhood. It’s holy and sacred, a reorienting of our bodies from girlhood to womanhood, a constant preparation for the possibility of nourishing new life within us.

Menstruation is that time when we are called to change our focus from “doing” and “completing” to just being and reflecting. We are called to rest and to reevaluate our priorities and to ponder how our lives are going. So while this time is special and sacred, the shocking physical reality remains. I think my girlhood reaction to first learning about menstruation sums it up well: “We bleed?! From THERE!!??”

All of motherhood is no different. There’s that act that causes motherhood in the first place. It’s carnal and messy. Then there’s pregnancy. Like menstruation and sex, it occurs inside my body. I have the experience of housing, protecting, and growing my children until they can breathe for themselves. After that comes labor and birth. Once again, messy, gritty, carnal reality.

~ Theresa Martin, excerpt from “Nitty Gritty Motherhood”

Read more! http://www.newfeminismrising.com/2012/07/nitty-gritty-motherhood.html

Katharine Krueger ~ Journey Of Young Women, Consultant and guide, Girls’ Empowerment and Coming of Age http://JoYW.org/

And, yesterday, I went on my own wild woman adventure picking wild raspberries with my kids. I wrote about it on Pagan Families and included a bonus recipe for wild raspberry sorbet:

…may I be reminded June 2013 024
of the courage and love
shown in small, wild adventures.

Wild black raspberries are ripe at my Missouri homestead and this morning I went on an expedition with my three children to gather what we could. As I returned, red-faced, sweating, and after having yelled much more than I should and having said several things I instantly regretted, I was reminded of something that I manage to forget every year: one definition of insanity is picking wild berries with a toddler. In fact, the closest I ever came to spanking one of my kids was during one of these idyllic romps through the brambles when my second son was three. While still involving some suffering, today’s ramble was easier since I have a nine and a half year old now as well as the toddler. This time, my oldest son took my toddler daughter back inside and gave her a bath and put her in new clothes while I was still outside crawling under the deck in an effort to retrieve the shoes and the tiny ceramic bluebird I’ve had since I was ten that my girl tossed over the railing and into the thorns “for mama.”

While under the deck, I successfully fished out the shoes (could not find the tiny bird) and I found one more small handful of June 2013 038raspberries. Since the kids were all safely indoors, I took my sweaty and scratched up and irritable self and ran down to my small, sacred space in the woods. I was thinking about how I was hot, tired, sweaty, sore, scratched, bloody, worn, and stained from what “should” have been a simple, fun little outing with my children and the above prayer came to my lips. I felt inspired by the idea that parenting involves uncountable numbers of small, wild adventures. I was no longer “just” a mom trying to find raspberries with her kids, I was a raspberry warrior. I braved brambles, swallowed irritations, battled bugs, sweated, swore, argued, struggled, crawled into scary spaces and over rough terrain, lost possessions and let go of the need to find them, and served as a rescuer of others. I gave my blood and body over to the task.

When I returned and showered, my oldest begged for me to make homemade raspberry sorbet with our findings. I’ve never made June 2013 063sorbet before and wasn’t sure I should dare try, but then I gathered my resources and said yes to yet another small adventure…

via Small Adventures (sorbet recipe included there!)

I’ve also been enjoying the wild, riotous blooms of summer:

June 2013 041June 2013 049 June 2013 037

Happy Father’s Day!

Jun16

 “Dads can play a key role early on in pregnancy to help mom and baby get the care that’s safest and healthiest…He’s a very important advocate, and can provide emotional support for mom throughout labor and birth.” –Tara Owens Shuler, Lamaze President-elect (via Five Tips for Expectant Dads to Prepare for Labor and Birth — Giving Birth with Confidence)

“Fatherhood challenges us, but it also enlarges us and reshapes our perception of what is important in the world around us. As we take stock of this new world, we find that doing our job as a dad is inherently honorable and respectful, and brings to us the dignity that goes with the territory. Far from being emasculating, being a dad makes us men in the finest sense of the term.” –Dads Adventure (via Happy Father’s Day! | Talk Birth, 2011)

“I share…with the dads in my classes—your most important job is just to love her the way you love her, not to try to be anything different or more ‘special’ than you already are…” (via Fathers, Fear, and Birth | Talk Birth)

“A few weeks ago, I spoke to a mother from one of my most recent birth classes. She told me something that her husband said to her in labor that I found very profound. Staff at the hospital were becoming concerned that this mother’s labor was ‘not progressing’ and ‘not normal’ She, in turn, became worried that she wasn’t normal and that something was wrong. Her husband told her: “There is no normal. There is no right way. There is only your birth.” (via No Right Way + Fathers at Birth | Talk Birth.)

It is Father’s Day! I know I spend most of my time writing about women and mothers, but dads are amazing people as well. And, conveniently, I keep finding things I’d like to share about fathers and birth this week, including this article by a male doula:

As a birth professional, I have worked with many amazing dads who glowed at least as bright as their pregnant partners. At most of the births that I have attended, the tears coming from the eyes of men overwhelmed with joy and relief at the birth of their baby have been just as wet as those of the mothers. I am not trying to equate the experiences of becoming a father with becoming a mother. However, I do hope to shed light on how birth professionals’ communication with fathers can influence the pregnancy and childbirth experience not just for fathers but also for mothers and babies. Like many birth professionals, I have worked hard to support the whole “client family” and honor the role of each person involved…

via Science & Sensibility » Celebrate Fathers; Birth Professionals Play A Critical Role.

And, just for a laugh!

15 Exceptional Dads Who Deserve Parenting Awards.

I’m also remembering babyloss fathers at this time of year as well after scanning over these Healing Resources Specific to Fathers: Long Term Healing/Perspectives – Still Birth Day.

I’m not sure if anyone remembers, but in early 2011 as I watched my husband bond with his new baby girl, I explained the following:

We have discussed how each of our babies has been a catalyst for big changes in our home situation. Our first baby was the catalyst we needed to move away from our by-the-highway-no-yard townhouse in a city and onto our own land in the country near my parents. Our second baby was the catalyst we needed to finish building our real house and to move out of our temporary house and into our permanent home. So, we are now wondering what kind of catalyst our baby girl will be? We have spent our entire married life (13 years!) saying that we want to live a “home based life.” I truly do not think it is (biologically) normal, desirable, or healthy for anyone to spend 40+ hours a week out of their home, regardless of whether or not they have children or who the primary caregiver is. I don’t think fathers belong at work that much time, I don’t think mothers do either, and I don’t think children belong at school every day. The home-based life idea came to us long before we had kids and it came from all the reading and thinking I did about the simple living movement. So, I wonder—and hope—that maybe our new baby will be the catalyst we need to finally face the fear of possible failure (and/or no money!) that accompanies jettisoning his full-time job and building our other “multiple streams of income.” Maybe we will, maybe we’ll keep talking ourselves out of it, but that is what our baby girl makes us feel like doing!

via Fatherbaby | Talk Birth.

That time has finally come and he gave his notice at work on Friday! His last day is June 28th and we are feeling a little freaked out. This is huge. This is also a decision that has been a long time coming, having tossed it around for the first time in 2001, two full years before we even had any children at all. We’ve gotten to a point at which it feels like it is less helpful to our family to have him at work than it is to have him home and that the costs of him working in his present job are outweighing the benefits. He has several different project ideas to explore and also a whole heck of a lot of life to live. I promised we’d take some time to “un-job” or detox from the regular work world for at least three months before we start trying to explore the other ways we have in mind for him to make money. He’s been sitting at a desk every day since he was five years old. It is time for a change! I’m feeling a bit of pressure with the shift of household wage-earning responsibility to my shoulders, especially since I make about 60% of his salary (and I work on a contract basis) and this means our household income is now falling by two-thirds. However, I also remember that he’s been in the position of primary wage-earner for our entire now-15-years of marriage and quite frankly, maybe it is high time for me to take a turn, especially because my work only takes me out of the home for seven hours a week (fourteen on the “heavy” sessions when I teach three classes) and he is gone for fifty or more…hmm…do the math!

Mark and I have always been wonderfully compatible people, but we do sometimes have our differences over parenting. I feel like he is tougher on, and more critical of, the boys than the parenting ideal I hold in my head. I have been terrible for years about butting in and not letting them define the boundaries of their own relationship and I’m also terrible about “correcting” or interfering with what he is doing with the kids. As I looked through pictures from our recent trip to include in this post, I saw something really, really clearly: I saw an amazing dad taking good care of his kids. It was woven throughout our entire trip. Just because his communication with them doesn’t always look like what I read in all my books, doesn’t mean it isn’t working…

At the Lego store at Downtown Disney (and, yes, he’s holding my purse because it was heavy).
Tigger!
Smooching on the ferris wheel at California Adventure. This may have been after declaring, “oh, well, we’re going to have fun without you!” to our stick-in-the-mud sons who refused to ride!
Watching a parade at California Adventure
Alaina’s first time at the ocean!
Watching the sunset!
Keeping a llittle girl warm at the windswept, freezing cold Montana De Oro side trip.
At Montana De Oro
Walking a sand labyrinth with daddy.
Silhouette daddy!
Yes, Zander and Alaina are both attempting to do the Vulcan salute.

Speaking of my husband’s awesomeness, might I also mention that I’m here at the La Leche League of Missouri conference on Father’s Day and who is here with me, taking care of the kids, driving, etc., so that I can do something important to me. I really appreciate him!

Also, I can’t let Father’s Day go by without a picture of me with my own dad! These were taken in April when my grandma was sick.

April 2013 037

April 2013 042I really appreciate him too!

Happy Father’s Day!

Tuesday Tidbits: Parenting and Forgiveness

Jun11
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Via Art Therapy Without Borders

I’ve written before about being an introverted mama and how that introversion connects to my experiences of pregnancy, birth, and parenting. The challenge to my personality type was most intense with the birth of my first child and I sure wish I’d had access to an article like this one when I was in the early months of motherhood: A Guide to New Motherhood — as an Introvert – The HerStories Project

“…At the end of the day I can be emotionally and physically depleted. I’m simply done. I am often exhausted by the pace of my son’s constant chatter and need for constant verbal and physical engagement. I need to be alone — sometimes for hours — to recharge my emotional batteries. And then I’m back to normal self…”

Yep. And, that alone time is really, really hard to come by as a new mother and also as kids grow!

I also enjoyed an article about praise. Praise has taken its share of knocks from the alternative parenting community and I enjoyed how this article differentiates between casual praise and genuine praise and does advocate for plenty of genuine praise:

“…People in the big wide world can often be pretty short on praise. People in the natural parenting world can get their knickers in a tremendous knot about it. I know how it makes me feel. And sure I should be a big enough person, and it shouldn’t matter, I should just instinctively know how great I am. But truth is I don’t. And it does matter hugely. To me and most people I know. To be honest I don’t enjoy spending time round people who are totally convinced of their own awesomeness with no room for a compliment top-up…”

Good Job… In Praise of Praise!

If you don’t praise kids enough they may never forgive you…just kidding…but, I’m trying to segue into my next topic which is about forgiveness. After my grandma’s memorial services and our time spent with extended family over the last couple of weeks, a couple of articles caught my eye, the first with regard to choosing not to take offense:

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And, as always, I have more books I want to read than there are hours in a year. (photo credit not known)

I have been doing much pondering on this subject since. There are so many examples in our community of individuals and groups being offended and shutting down the ability for divinity to be a guiding force in our communications. Individuals see their relationships as in service to self rather than as in service to others. Over time I have witnessed multiple examples of people expressing that it is a positive thing to let go of relationships that no longer “serve them”.

What my recent experience has reinforced in my life is that taking offence in conversations is an expression of personable ego. Those with whom I disagree are valued partners in my journey; that my relationships and friendships are about my service to my friends, associates and community, not their service to me…

via Pagan In Paradise: The Courage To Not Be Offended, Powerful Magic.

And the next, the radical notion that perhaps there is nothing to forgive:

3. Consider that there’s nothing to forgive.

Over the years I’ve thought about the shift that happens when we go from feeling angry and hurt to loving and peaceful.

Are we learning forgiveness or do we simply reach a point where we now see there was nothing to forgive in the first place?

Is forgiveness so tricky because the real “cotton dress running through the fields” feeling we’re after only comes once we realize there’s nothing to forgive??

To help me wrap my head around this I find it helpful to consider the larger picture. As in, outer space large:

I imagine a kinder, wiser and more compassionate version of myself sitting on the moon, perhaps kicking back on a deck chair drinking a margarita with Alice Kramden, looking down and watching, as the earthly me muddles my way through life…

Watching myself hold onto dodgy beliefs and making some epic mistakes.

Watching children around me born into challenging times and how this affects their sense of self-worth and how easily this passes on to others.

Watching us all learning to love ourselves unconditionally—trying, failing, and even succeeding, as we do.

And I figure this wise margarita-drinking self would conclude that everyone in their own unique way was doing their best.

And when you think about it, if everyone’s doing their best, what’s to forgive—doing your best?

Toss around the idea: “Forgiveness is understanding there’s nothing to forgive.” It’s big, but when it sinks in, it really helps.

via 3 Unconventional Tips for Forgiving and Letting Go.

Being a parent has given me compassion for most parents, past, present, and future, and how they are trying their best and that they are just people, no more, no less. We may have experienced our parents as something more powerful and dramatic, but really, they were just like us. Are we perfect? No. That means that it is okay that they weren’t either. Nothing to forgive. Ditto with friendships—if we ourselves are not a perfect friend, and I guarantee we’re not, it is impossible, unrealistic, and even cruel to expect that our friends will never do anything “wrong” and never, ever hurt our feelings. Nothing to forgive.

Tuesday Tidbits: Postpartum Mothering

May21

Some honest, nitty-gritty, lovely, and poignant looks at motherhood today…

Beautiful print of a babyloss mandala by Amy Swagman. My mom surprised me with this for my birthday after thoughtfully contributing to our Amethyst Network fundraiser and receiving the print as a premium.

Beautiful print of a babyloss mandala by Amy Swagman. My mom surprised me with this for my birthday after thoughtfully contributing to our Amethyst Network fundraiser and receiving the print as a premium.

First, I very much enjoyed this article about the painfulness many women experience as they transition into motherhood. This may be re-experienced/re-visited with each baby, or perhaps the initial challenge fades into the background of memory, unless you actively acted to preserve it.

…For me, and for many other women, being a new mother is hard. It can be hard in a million different ways: painful physical recovery from a difficult birth, breast-feeding problems, colic, tensions with your partner, sleep problems. It’s also just hard on its own, on top of and in between all these other challenges. As a friend of mine said, “I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t know what ‘hard’ would feel like.” We thought it would be sitcom-style hard—not necessarily with a feel-good resolution at the end of every episode, but at least punctuated by those frequent moments of uplift indicating that, in spite of everything, life really is beautiful, isn’t it? I’m pretty sure it’s like that for some people, but for many of us, it’s not. For many of us, it’s not good hard, as in a “good hard workout”; it’s bad hard, as in, it sometimes feels like something bad is happening to you…

Before I Forget: What Nobody Remembers About New Motherhood – Jody Peltason – The Atlantic.

I recognize that many mothers do not have difficult transitions in postpartum, but I certainly did, and the period of time following the birth of my first baby remains fixed in my own memory one of the most pivotal, painful, challenging, and transformative times of my life as a woman. Perhaps it is more fixed, because I did write about it and the rawness and the struggle is preserved in those words from the past. This article reminds me of my own past thoughts:

When I had my first baby, I would see women who were pregnant and feel almost a sense of grief for them—like, just wait, you have NO idea what is coming. I also told my husband more than once: “this is both more wonderful and more HORRIBLE than I ever could have imagined.” The fear of being thought a “bad mom” is SO powerful that it keeps us quiet about many things. I’ve felt more than once that my kids were “torturing” or me or literally trying to crush my spirit/soul. It sounds horrible to type it out, but that is how I feel sometimes! I’ve also written about how it interesting to feel both captivated AND captive. Bonded and also bound. I discovered that there was a whole new section of women’s rights I hadn’t even been aware of prekids–mother’s rights. I do think many, many women have written about this, but when you start out you feel like you’re the only one whose “daring” to mention the ugly side [she’d also mentioned, “why doesn’t anyone write about this?” Um, they totally do. A lot]. Start reading “momoirs”—they’re a lifeline! So many good ones out there. I have a big collection of them. Oh, and start reading Brain, Child magazine. The best look at real mothering I’ve ever know.

via What to tell a mother-to-be about the realities of mothering…

See also:

Postpartum Survival Tips

Birthing the Mother-Writer (or: Playing My Music, or: Postpartum Feelings, Part 1)

Postpartum Thoughts/Feelings, Part 2

Postpartum Feelings, Part 3

“The time of danger, what needs to be survived, comes at different times for mothers. For me, it came early — during my [child]‘s infancy.” ––From Sleeping Beauty & The Fairy Prince: A Modern Retelling By Cassie Premo Steele

Ever since my first child was born over nine years ago, I’ve been talking about writing an article about the tension between choices and that whatever it is you’re doing, you can be blamed for the outcome later—i.e. “you let me co-sleep, and now I have lifelong sleep problem” OR, “you didn’t co-sleep and now I have lifelong abandonment issues!”

So, I appreciated this humorous look at how you’re doing everything wrong:

Everybody’s always trying to figure out how to do it right.

What’s “best” for my children? What can I do to raise the healthiest, most well-adjusted kids possible?

How can I do it “right?”

Well I think we should reframe this whole discussion into a simple recognition that we’re doing it all wrong.

Everything we do, it’s wrong.

Every decision is the wrong decision. And I have proof. Check this out.

via So basically, you’re doing everything wrong always – renegade mothering.

In a happier tone, I very much enjoyed this sweet post about the end of the breastfeeding relationship:

I’m hoping that buried in the corners of my children’s minds, along with all the other lovely things, there are some memories of breastfeeding that will be there all their lives. As for me, it’s not so much a corner of my mind as an overflowing treasure chest.

via Lonely Scribe: Of milk and memories: how my breastfeeding story ends.

I was very grateful for my own breastfeeding relationship last week when we took Alaina in for her dental work under general anesthesia at an outpatient surgery clinic. After it was over, we nursed and nursed and nursed. It was healing and renewing for us both and it meant I didn’t have to worry about her getting enough to eat or drink after being groggy and having a sore mouth. Interestingly, while she was under, we went ahead and had her upper frenulum clipped (I’ve thought for a long time that she had a upper-lip tie) and it has made such a surprising difference in how comfortable it feels to nurse her. I think I had adapted to a low-level of irritation and discomfort throughout the entire two years that I’ve nursed her.

The day after surgery: showing off new teeth (the previously poorly repaired ones WERE able to be saved!) as well as a new baby chick!

The day after surgery: showing off new teeth (the previously poorly repaired ones WERE able to be repaired and saved! I went in thinking we’d be coming home with a [more] toothless girl) as well as a new baby chick!

Birthdays! (and lots of other stuff)

May20

My birthday was at the beginning of this month. I uploaded some pictures and was going to just post a quick post, but then some days passed and then some more days. I added some more pictures and thought of more things to write and it has just been languishing in my drafts folder. Things keep happening and so I think I’ll add a couple more pictures before I post, blah, blah, blah. I almost deleted the whole thing since now May is practically over and my bday was weeks ago, but since I bothering uploading the pix, I’m just going to post it!

May is a busy month for us. It is my birthday and then Mother’s Day and then my mom’s birthday and my dad’s birthday and Zander’s birthday. We also have a whole group of our work party friends who have May birthdays (and playgroup friends too!). May 12th was the 18th anniversary of my first date with my husband. May 16th was the fifteenth anniversary of my college graduation. I feel like I’m getting old! And, it is weird to think about how close that college student girl feels and also how very far away she feels. My parents both turned 60—I had a surprise party/healing ritual for my mom as part of our spring women’s retreat as well as a ceremony for our 12-year-old work party friend whose birthday was the same day. On Mother’s Day, we had a family memorial ceremony for my grandma. In the middle of all these celebrations, I’ve been wrapping up the school session (including grading almost 100 papers…split up in two batches of almost 50), preparing for the summer school session, plotting with Mark about him quitting his job, trying to help motherbabies breastfeed happily, trying to stick with some kind of homeschool “schedule” for my kids (using the term extremely loosely). Oh yeah, and my tiny little sweet daughter also had major dental work under general anesthesia last Tuesday. One of my Facebook friends pointed out that no wonder I’ve been feeling taxed. Yeah, duh. I don’t know why I can’t extend myself that grace. Instead, I’ve been berating myself at various intervals about my “inability” to handle it all. I’ve also been planning our big trip to California. $2300 later and WAY too many hours thinking, checking, and strategizing, I ended up with five plane tickets and we’re going. We decided to to go ahead and make a full vacation out of it—Disneyland, tourmaline mining, Legoland, and Pismo Beach! My grandma’s committal service (which I am planning and facilitating) and her celebration of life luncheon is in Fresno in the middle of our trip.

This week as I tried to finish those last bleeping papers, I found out that I’d made a mistake with our plane tickets—having a p.m. flight from San Diego to Fresno rather than the a.m. flight I thought we had. I almost lost it. Flipped out. I’m serious. I felt like I had officially exceeded my actual ability to cope and that I may possibly break down in some way. More. Than. Humanly. Possible. To. Handle. As it was, we made the semi-bizarre choice to just buy some new tickets that restored the “rightful” a.m. flight schedule. These middle-of-the-journey tickets were only $68 each and we decided it was really a fairly trivial amount and we should just do it. We’re taking our family of five to CA with carry-on luggage only and we’re packing like a boss! Seriously, we’re rocking this thing.

Oh, and just this afternoon I also finished my twelfth class for my D.Min degree. I’ve got about 14 left, plus my dissertation. I have three in progress and signed up for two more to start during the summer session. How do I do it?!?!? Heck if I know. 😉 Maybe it is time to feel impressed at my own capacities again rather than mad at myself for not getting more done, for being “behind,” for staying up too late, for taking too long to return phone calls, for leaving some emails unanswered and books unreviewed, for being sometimes short-tempered, for screwing up a.m. and p.m., for not getting around to the blog posts I’d hoped to write, for not keeping up with requests for new sculptures, for not having a birthday surprise of some kind for my dad too, and for never feeling “finished” enough to rest.

Here is what I originally swiped from my Facebook to share about my birthday:

Uh oh. I spent the first 8 minutes of my 35th year still working on these dang bibliographies. This has been my worst/least productive grading stint yet (the CA trip planning/purchasing ate up my usual “free” day). I’m determined to have a FREE day tomorrow (okay, technically, today, but it doesn’t count until I go to bed!)–I’m going to wallow around in books and listen to guided meditations (you know, with the three kids climbing on me!) and plan rituals and celebrations and not do anything I don’t feel like doing 🙂

It is SO flipping hard to focus on grading these bibliographies when my brain is turning over Disneyland plans, hotel reservations, car rental, and also finding just the *right* stuff for my grandma’s memorial service. The good news is that I have some really rocking students this session and they make some of the grading easy!

—

Later update:

Thirty-four years ago I was born! As my birthday present to myself, I DID manage to finish grading the last bibliographies and I’m taking the day off to hang around and wallow in books. I think I might do a tech-off day (or, at least, a class-off day!) Oh, and I bought two tiny little Japanese dolls for myself at Goodwill too. I do birthdays right!

When I wake up and hear rainfall on my birthday I always feel like the planet is wishing me a happy birthday too (there was a heavy rainstorm the day I was born). Alaina told me I should have a cake with “nonnie babies” on it. On my actual birthday, my mom took me to a tea room in a neighboring town for a birthday lunch and then I came home with three kinds of tea and the kids and I had a tea party! (in many ways an excuse to eat sugar cubes and this involves sort of obsessive negotiation over them rather than just enjoying ourselves!) I asked the boys if they would play with Alaina so I could have an easier time getting ready to go. After about ten minutes, Lann said, “whew, she’s pretty much like an energy tick.” I rolled! I love having a nine-year-old and a toddler. So much different and easier than having a toddler and a preschooler was.

Okay, so here is a gallery of the pictures I meant to post on several occasions, plus some more I just added in today:

Repost: How I learned to mother myself

May16

One of my very favorite books for mothers is The Mother’s Guide to Self-Renewal by Renée Trudeau (past posts referencing her are here). I also enjoy her digital newsletter. While it is a bit after the fact now, I’m reposting her Mother’s Day article about how she learned to listen to her Wise Self. As I wrap up the school session, prepare to travel, keep up with my blogs, plan rituals, attempt to halfway manage to keep up with the classes I’m taking, and mother my children, I need all the reminders I can get about self-care! (Speaking of mothers, self-care, and Mother’s Day, I also very much enjoyed this lovely blessing from Shiloh Sophia: A Mama Day Blessing for All Kinds of Mothering | Our Lady of the Red Thread.)

How I learned to mother myself

by Renée Trudeau IMG_2168

There’s been a lot of belly button gazing in our house this past week. My adolescent son told me on Friday, “I’m thinking a lot about my life right now,” my introspective husband is taking a class where he’s contemplating our relationship to the cosmos and having just returned from teaching at the ethereal Esalen Institute in Big Sur, CA and the redwood forests, I’m reflecting on my how much my self-care practice has affected my relationship with my husband (read more) …. and myself.

My beloved and I are celebrating our 13-year wedding anniversary this Tuesday and while we still two-step with our respective issues, it seems we’re becoming more accepting and gentle with another, as we slowly become more compassionate and kind to ourselves.

But it’s been a long road.

I have a visceral recollection of the day, ten years ago, when my husband returned to work after being home with me and our newborn for two weeks. Sitting in our dark, quiet kitchen, holding my baby boy, listening to the kitchen clock tick, and blanketed in a postpartum haze, I thought, “This is it. I’m all alone.”  It was a frightening and devastating realization, and I have never felt the absence of maternal nurturing more than I did then. But then, I heard a comforting voice whisper from within, “Renee, it’s time to start mothering yourself.”

That moment was a catalyst for me and the beginning of my journey to learning to both nurture and nourish myself.

For years, I didn’t even know what I needed (self-care, what’s that?!). I was so habituated to the seduction of productivity, to going non-stop, to value “doing over being,” to allowing my internal state to be dependent upon the external world and to tying my self-worth to my latest win. But as I began to tune inward and become reacquainted with my desires—my love of nature, my need to be fed by beauty/art and dance, my passion for nurturing my body through vibrant natural cooking—and watched my own commitment to my well-being grow each day, I began to see the ripple effect this had on my family, my friends and beyond. (Hear how this evolved.)

Learning to mother myself has evolved into a thirteen-year journey to not only becoming my own best friend, but to living a soulful, vibrant awakened life. At times, I am ferocious, radical and even willing to p*** people off in order to stay in integrity with “her”—what I call my Wise Self.  And I found that once I opened up and walked through the doors of self–care, I was gently brought to the path of self-compassion, then self-acceptance and eventually to self-love. It’s been long and slow. But this deeply spiritual practice of self-care has changed my life more than any other.

Now as I move steadily into the second half of my sweet, unpredictable life, holding hands and moving forward–sometimes tentatively–with my kind, tender soul, I leave behind who I thought I was  in order to fully welcome who I am becoming. Warts and all. And I watch my love and acceptance for this beautiful, sometimes controlling and perfectionististic usually compassionate and generous woman grow more each day.

Self-care has gone beyond learning to attune and respond to my physical, emotional and intellectual needs and desires—it’s how I nurture my soul—my very essence. And it’s how I not only celebrate the incredible gift of being in this amazing body and having the gift of this beautiful life— it’s how I remember who I really am.

—
You may reprint this newsletter in its entirety provided you include at the end: Renée Peterson Trudeau is a life balance coach/speaker and author of The Mother’s Guide to Self-Renewal and Nurturing the Soul of Your Family. You can download free book chapters, receive life balance tips or learn about upcoming events at www.ReneeTrudeau.com. On Facebook at: LiveInsideOut.

Subscribe here to receive Renée’s life balance newsletter.

Birth Stories by Two Year Olds…

May9

With each of my kids when they are somewhere between two and three years old, I feel inspired to ask them if they remember when they were born. They always say, “yes,” and I say, “tell me about it” and they do. Lann’s story was a succinct and accurate version of what happened. He said:

Toddlers can do birth art too! Love the placenta in a bowl and the baby attached to the mama with cord (yes, I know the two are mutually exclusive, but I love it anyway!)

Toddlers can do birth art too! Lann drew this after Zander was born. Love the placenta in a bowl and the baby attached to the mama with cord (yes, I know the two are mutually exclusive, but I love it anyway!)

Swimming
Swimming down out of mama.
Crying!
Nursies.
Happy now.

As I’ve written before, he did start crying loudly with only his head sticking out. Almost immediately after he was born, I put him to my breast offering him what I spontaneously called “nursies” and he was, in fact, then happy.

I asked Zander on his third birthday and his version of his birth was as follows:

First you saw a little head poking out.
Then a little arm.
Then another little arm.
And another and another.
And me was little alien.

He was, in fact, born slowly like this with head emerging and then arms and then upper body and then the rest of him. I asked him what happened to his extra arms and he said:

They actually melted.

He was nursing at the time and paused, popped off and said:

and, my extra eye melted too…

That’s my little Zander for you!

I love how the baby looks like it is "floating" in this one.

I love how the baby looks like it is “floating” in this one.

Yesterday morning, I spontaneously asked Alaina if she remembered being born and like the others she said yes. I asked her what happened and she said:

My baby! My baby!

I asked, “did you hear mama saying that?”

She said yes and then said,

Now, nonnies.  Then she just gazed off into the distance like she was remembering.

I asked her if she remembered anything else and she repeated the above. Shortest of the children’s birth stories, but also distilled to its essence 😉

I’m curious to know if other people ask their children this question and what kind of responses to you get? I love each of my children’s birth stories as told by them!

Both boys made me a birth art sculpture for my birthday this year and each is about a baby being born:

May 2013 021

Zander’s sculpture: The Goddess of Birth

May 2013 022

Lann’s sculpture.

 

Talk Books: The Art of Family

May2

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Last month I finished reading The Art of Family by Gina Bria. I’ve already quoted it here a couple of times and I’d like to offer another series of quotes and insights I enjoyed from this book.

We will have doubts about our depth of relationships with our children. Questions will haunt us. (If a baby-sitter picks them up at school today, will they be irrevocably damaged?) But to a parent, doubt is a way of asking all the right questions. What we so often experience as doubt is really the process of creating ongoing relationships. It is when we stop doubting, thinking, questioning, in relationships that they die.

Gina Bria (2011-11-28). The Art of Family : Rituals, Imagination, and Everyday Spirituality (p. 7). iUniverse. Kindle Edition.

I really loved this. It reminded me of another reassuring mothering moment that happened for me at the La Leche League International conference in 2007. Martha Sears was speaking and she said something to the effect of, “does anyone ever wonder if they are ‘attached enough’ to their kids?” She then said that the very fact that you think about those subjects and ask yourself those questions means you are. And, that you are a good mother. She said that only good mothers worry about being good mothers. I found that tremendously reinforcing and have drawn on it repeatedly over the years! I’ve heard other parents say that they feel confident they are making the “right choices” for their families, because if they weren’t right, they wouldn’t do them, but I often lack that sense of complete certainty. I see a lot of possible “right choices” as well as piles of “good enough choices” in the world and it is helpful to remember that turning these things over, asking hard questions about them, and having doubts about your own parenting is actually part of the process of a healthy, alive relationship with your children.

And, speaking of making mistakes and having doubts, I also enjoyed this reminder that children are watching how you handle mistakes and how your repair damage:

Perhaps it will come as no surprise to nonreligious parents that teaching children to resist the status quo is a spiritual gift; but observing what’s wrong about what surrounds us is the first necessary step leading away from the brokenness of a particular culture, setting, or time. Spiritual leadership at home earns a special place in children’s formation, especially in their imagination. Refining our children’s spiritual imagination is essential; it will become their storehouse, a granary, for making choices about the way they will face loss or triumph. Their imaginations will be shaped by the world we present them. Children need to hear not only what we believe in, but also what we long for, what we hope for—not just what we think the world should look like, but what it doesn’t look like, and why. And, yes, we want them to be like ourselves, but more. We want our children to admire us on the deepest level of our own spirituality. Not just our ethics, our morality with others, but also what is our being, our nature, what choices we make, who we are in front of the vastness of everyday life, and what we do when confronted with evil. These questions are alive for children from the very beginning of their lives. We cannot wait until we, as adults, as individuals, have finally answered, to our satisfaction, our own questions and doubts about God, the world, and human nature. We are meant to do it together. We are joined spiritually to our children, it cannot be otherwise. Our children want computer software, Matchbox cars, and iPhones. But what they want most from us is who we are. To them we are Adam and Eve, the first human specimens of their universe. They keep their eyes on us; they know that no other adult will matter quite so much to them while they grow. They want us to be good. And when we are not good, they watch carefully to see how we will handle it. Here is where most of us will have a chance to be heroic—exactly when we stumble.

And, with regard to parents as everyday heroes, Bria touches on something that I’ve tried to communicate in a past poem for mothers:

You may feel uncomfortable and puzzled about this or you may be the most agnostic person you know, and yet, in loving your children, you are practicing the profoundest spirituality. In this you are heroic, and there are days when you know it. You know you’ve been stretched to the limit, faced insanity, wept in the closet, physically found an entirely new level of exhaustion. It’s called sacrifice. No one else, except maybe, maybe, your partner, will ever know what you’ve done. No one else will ever guess how hard it has been. No one will thank you for it. Even when your children have their children, they will only vaguely realize what you’ve done—they will be too frantic caring for their own kids. Yet you do it. Now, that’s heroism.

Gina Bria (2011-11-28). The Art of Family : Rituals, Imagination, and Everyday Spirituality (p. 80). iUniverse. Kindle Edition.

YES! Though, I do actually feel like my children are really good about expressing thanks to me. Little Alaina has a somewhat new habit of saying “thank you” to me for almost everything. She asks me to pick her up and when I do, she throws her arms around my neck, pats my back, and says, “SANK you, mommy!” And, she almost always says, “thanks” for nursing too. She’ll talk to my “na nas,” saying, “thank you, nonnies. Love you, nonnies. Thank you, mommy. Love you, mommy.” No thanklessness there 😀 My boys too will often tell me I’m the “best mom in the world!” or that they would never want a different mom because I’m, “the greatest mom ever!” So, I do, in fact feel appreciated by my kids on a regular basis. However, I identify with the remarks about no one really know how hard its been and that you are heroic in continuing to meet the challenge! March 2013 057

And, as I prepare for a major trip to California later this month, I call to mind two particularly àpropos reminders about having so much to do all the time:

“Face it, now, you will never have enough time to do all the right things, the necessary, even important things you can eternally think up, but you will have enough love.”

“I want my sons, both of them to learn from me that they are free to be rooted in home and still be abroad in the world as men.’’ She also feels being a mother to her sons involves giving them pictures of her as a woman engaging her gifts. She is sharing her interests with him, preparing him to see women as partners, with many interests, giving him a model.

And, finally, a thought about making a home:

HOME IS THE FIRST PLACE we spend our love. It is the site, the space, the enclosure, where we love each other and spin ourselves into a family—mother, daughter, father, son, and over all, lovers. It is the place we disburse our energy, expend our life, and exercise our imagination. It holds all our little memory objects and, with them, the people we love—the ones we are willing to spend our lives on. The ones we most want to show and tell to. It’s never just four walls. Home can be thought of almost as a body to care for; a body that contains the spirit of the family. One can read the character of a family by the home they make. It is not the things they have, but the spirit of life that is manifest in their home, because home is the ultimate joint project families do together. It is imperative that home be made by all family members. It is not a woman’s private project, whereby she creates a space and everyone else just inhabits it. Home is a joint project—that means children must be fully engaged in “keeping’’ house in the same way the adults are. Most chores for children are assigned to build character—not really to attend the body of the home together. By giving children an explanation about why their contribution to the home is important and giving them an opportunity to contribute—a true sense of ownership—a discernible difference in the attitude takes place; it’s a community effort. Young children “play house’’ for real because they understand that you depend on them; and if they feel how vital they are to you, to this project, they respond. After all that is what children inherently want, to belong to someone, in some place, and to give their little selves too.

Gina Bria (2011-11-28). The Art of Family : Rituals, Imagination, and Everyday Spirituality (pp. 126-127). iUniverse. Kindle Edition.

And, one about goblets. Yes, goblets. I feel her!

What is it about goblets that gives me a lump right in the throat? To see a little fist brandishing one about, drink half-sloshing, ought to fill me with terror. Instead I get the deeply satisfying affirmation that, for the moment, we are princes of our palaces, little or big as we are. Goblets ring royalty bells for me, aristocracy, or even only mere martiniesque sophistication, but they symbolize elevation, reminiscent of a chalice. A goblet lifts you up, even as it lifts up the body of liquid you are drinking. The imagery of a child sipping from a goblet is a glimpse of a lost land, some original garden, where animals talk, flowers sing, feasting abounds, and every servant is a noble in disguise. Maybe our little diner parties for children are a silly attempt to taste this vision, but I can’t give it up, even if we do, in the end, lose some goblets, in peril of a gash. When the other mothers come to collect their children, I know they contain their askance glances: I’ve let their children play with glass. I, too, wonder sometimes if I am a demented, too-casual mother. But I am not, I am crazy for the real. I so want to put the real into children’s hands, to promise them while they are still children, still believers, that it is beautiful, exciting, and dangerous to be at a table.

Gina Bria (2011-11-28). The Art of Family : Rituals, Imagination, and Everyday Spirituality (p. 138). iUniverse. Kindle Edition.

Alaina with sparkling cider on New Year's Eve.

Alaina with sparkling cider on New Year’s Eve. She’s got the real in her hands! 🙂