Let the sunshine in

As I was straightening up the house the other day I decided to wash all of the windows and mirrors. With the constant parade of laundry, dishes, and child-based messes, this is a chore I get around to every couple of months if that. It's a simple thing, and doesn't take that much elbow grease, but it's amazing what a difference it makes. You don't even realize how compromised your view was until you are suddenly staring through a crystal clear window.

It made me think about how we all have metaphorical smudges, things that keep us from seeing the world clearly. It could be anger or resentment, maybe a grudge we are holding. Maybe it's something we have been ignoring or putting off, like a hard conversation, or finally starting that exercise routine, or quitting smoking. Maybe it's our own beliefs about who we are, how we are unworthy or not good enough. Maybe it's the judgements we make about other people, expecting them to be perfect or live up to our own standards that even we fall short of. More than likely, it's a combination of many things that accumulate over time. And just like the dirty windows, after a certain point we stop noticing the smudges, and it becomes the filter through which we see the world. We may not even know what we are missing until we take the time to wipe the windows clean. Who knew the glass could be so clear? The sun could shine so bright?

Bacon Love

When I was younger, my mother would always take the burnt piece of chicken or burger, or whatever we were having for dinner that night. I found this odd, why would anyone want and willingly take the burnt piece all the time?

Today I took the burnt pieces of bacon at breakfast and gave the good ones to Miles, and I get it. True Love.

The hardest thing

I recently came across something I wrote about eight months ago, when Miles was in the throws of the "terrible threes tantrum" stage. Though things have improved greatly on this front, the wisdom still rings true:

The other day I met with my son's pre-school teacher. She told me about how smart he was and what a great vocabulary, and then commented, "he has such a strong personality!" Which is teacher speak for, your son is crazy! God bless her.

As I write this, he is throwing a tantrum in the kitchen. A full on kicking and screaming, red faced, writhing on the floor tantrum. All because the spoon he wanted to eat his breakfast with was dirty.

These are the things that they don't tell you about when you bring home that little sweet bundle who sleeps more than he's awake. How I miss those days sometimes...

The terrible threes (the common term is "terrible twos, but I swear he was an angel compared to three.) have tested my patience more than anything else I've faced yet. and the fact that I'm doing it with a six month old in tow means that I'm doing it on half the sleep. Sitting here writing about it is my attempt to disconnect emotionally from the situation. All the parenting books and experts say to not react to tantrums, let them run their course and then try to talk to them when they calm down. These experts must also be Buddhist monks because nothing can raise your blood pressure and get the cortisol pumpnig quite like a three year old having a temper tantrum. I start to feel anxious at just the sound of a child screaming, even if it's not mine! What I've found so far in my parenting adventure, is that doing nothing is the hardest thing. You want to fix it, you want to comfort, you want to push some switch to make them feel better...and to make your ears stop ringing. But the more you feed into the temper, the longer it lasts, so here I am fighting against every instinct, hammering out my frustration on the keyboard.

Still, in a few minutes I will most likely go over to him, put my arms around him and just hold him while he cries. And when he calms down I'll go over to the sink and wash the dirty spoon so he can have it with his cereal. Am I setting my son up for disappointment? That the world will not bow to his every request? Am I teaching him that the way to get what he wants is just to scream louder and for as long as he can? I don't know. Honestly, when I concern myself with doing everything "by the book" is when I get even more setressed out. It's those times, when I find myself reacting, arguing and trying to reason with a three year old.

Life is not by the book, if I expect it to be, then I will always be disapointed. Those parenting experts don't know me or my son. Sure they have PhD's and have done clinical studies, and maybe they have children of their own. But they don't have MY child. As a parent, sometimes you have to be the expert and listen to your own instincts.

Recently, my son came home from preschool with a note form the teacher, a two sided hand written note explaining his behavior, among other things it addressed the issue of his tantrums. Nothing I didn't already know, but it still hit me in the gut and sent my heart sinking. My first reaction was that of a Mama Bear to defend her cub. Then, shame; what must they think of me as a parent? What am I doing wrong? Do they dread having my son come?

Once I got over my own feelings and sat with it, I gave myself permission to not be perfect. I forgave myself for mistakes and gave myself credit for the good things that he does. I also told myself the hard truth, that even when you do everything right, they have to learn and figure things out for themselves. There will always be tantrums, always mistakes, always lessons to learn. "You have to let them leave the nest" is the common expression, I just didn't think I would have to start letting go so soon, I always imagined it as one big band-aid when they go away to college, but it's not, it's lots of tiny little steps that add up over time. A constant letting go, a quiet guidance, still loving, but from a little farther distance each time.

As I read over this I felt deeply that this is the heart of God, our Heavenly Parent. Ever watching his children make mistakes, walking into danger, and having temper tantrums. Doing nothing, letting us make the mistake so we can learn the lesson, letting us feel a broken heart so that we grow, not intervening in our temper tantrum, it may be what is best for us. But it's the hardest thing to do.

The Grocery Store

This morning I had to pick up some things at the grocery store, milk, bread, the breakfast stables. Miles woke up at 6 again so he of course came with me. If anyone ever invents a way to tap into a three year old' s energy supply they'll make millions. The maintenance guys are still cleaning the floors in the store and Miles is darting around aisles, grabbing things off shelves, and sprinting back and forth between the check out lanes. At the last minute, as I'm paying for our groceries (including a plastic orange ball that he wants to bring home for Skylar...really, how do you say no to that?) he grabs a bag of m&m's and runs out of the store. @&#^%!

I ran after him, leaving my bagged groceries behind and caught him just as he got to the automatic doors. I pulled him aside, rather forcefully, and said, "don't you ever run away from me like that again!" My adrenaline was pumping and I felt like I was outside of my body, watching myself on the security camera. I dragged him back to the check out and made him give back the m&ms and apologize to the clerk, who was actually laughing. Everyone took it in stride, and one of the women in line made a comment about how she wished she had that much energy early in the morning.

I was still seething though on the way out, I guess my body was still high on the adrenaline. I thought about that security camera, and how I've seen videos of moms on youtube, or seen them in person and how I've judged them in that one moment. I knew I over reacted a bit. No one should be judged on one small snap shot in time, and yet we do it all of the time, to each other and to ourselves. Sure, there are cases of real abuse or neglegence, but most of the time, that woman at the grocery store is a really good mom who just hasn't had her coffee yet and is doing the best she can.

We all make mistakes, especially in raising children, we're not perfect. The next time you see a mom scolding her kids, instead of judging and saying, "that will never be me", try just offering to carry her groceries. We all just need a little bit of support. After all, it takes a village!

The Classroom of Life

Yesterday the boys were up at 6am. I had an appointment with my chiropractor that I thought would go long so I packed us up-- ready to head to school right afterwards. The appointment took less time than expected and we had an hour to kill. Instead of going back home we drove to a park that we pass everyday and yet have never stopped at. It was a beautiful way to start the day. Only a few people were out, running or walking their dogs. There were ducks in the water and a soft gentle breeze. I sat on a bench near-by and prayed while the kids played on the shinny playground equipment.

It's good to stop and connect every once in awhile. We can get so busy with our everyday lives that a small shift in routine can actually create a huge difference and help us re-energize. It doesn't have to be big, but take a different route home, stop at that new restaurant you've been meaning to try, play a board game with friends instead of watching TV. One of my favorite things to do is actually to turn off the radio in the car and sing my own songs, or say a prayer. The little things we do can help us stay present, connected, and maybe see the rest of the day ahead with new eyes.

I have some exciting developments in the works, new projects and experiences that I'm looking forward to. I'll share more details when it's the right time. Maybe it's because of all those Target back-to-school commercials, but I kind of feel like a kid anticipating the first day of school. New beginnings, new challenges, excited and anxious all at once. We may not all be college or high school students anymore, but we will always be students of life.

What things are you looking forward to this school year?

Mama Mia

Here's a lesson in irony for all you English students out there.

When I was a child I HATED pizza. I know, I know, it's crazy. A kid who doesn't like pizza?! But that was me. And it wasn't like I never tried it, I did! In fact, I desperately WANTED to like it. I hated having to bring my own food to a birthday party if I knew they were serving pizza, or explaining to my soccer coach that I didn't like it after he took the team out for lunch. More than once I either forced myself to swallow a few bites while trying not to gag, or I just went hungry. It was embarrassing and it made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I did everything possible to keep this strange eating quirk secret if I could.

Fast forward ten years, an evolution of taste buds, and a trip to Italy later, and suddenly Italian food is my absolute favorite. Pizza and Pasta everyday and I would be a happy girl. In fact, after my trip to Italy I became somewhat of a pizza snob (thin crust, fresh mozz,...mmm).

One more jump in time: The past year I've been struggling with health issues. Forgive me if it's TMI, but it's all part of the story. If you don't feel like reading about the messy details then go ahead and skip to the end, it still gets the point across.

It all started when I was pregnant with my second son. I started having a lot of digestive issues. Stomach cramps, diareah, nausea. At first I thought it was just normal pregnancy stuff. When I was about five months along though, I caught a stomach bug, and instead of it lasting 24 hours like they usually would, it lasted over a week. I was miserable and freaked out about becoming dehydrated. Nothing worked, even eating rice or bread would go right through me and I literally had to starve myself for almost two days in order to finally get better. After that incident I was concerned but things went back to normal for a bit so I was just focused on my pregnancy. Later that summer, after Skylar was born, I got sick again, except this time it lasted for almost a month. After starting to feel better for a few days I decided to have a nice breakfast since I was staying with some friends (we were escaping from no electricity at our house during Hurricane Irene). About twenty minutes after breakfast I felt an intense pain in my stomach and I knew I had to throw up. I quickly handed off my two month old to my husband and ran to the bathroom. My stomach was cramping and the vomiting was painful. Afterwards I collapsed on the bathroom floor, so weak that I could barely get up. I actually called my husband on my cell phone even though he was in the next room and told him I needed to go to the hospital. This time I really did get dehydrated. After a few hours on fluids and anti-nausea medication in the emergency room, blood tests, stool, and urine samples, I was told I could go home and anything unusual from the tests they would let me know. I followed up with my regular doctor and it took about a week longer to get over it completely. Nothing came back on the test results, so I went about life as normal. Things seemed to even out a bit over the next few months but every once in a while I would have that nauseous feeling again or wake up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach pains. Eventually I got sick of it, and after having not felt much confidence in my doctors I decided to do my own research. I looked up my symptoms online and possible things that could be causing them. After much research I decided to cut out gluten and dairy from my diet and see if it made a difference. It was really tough at first, but after about two weeks I started to feel better than I have in almost two years. I was feeling great, and not just physically, I felt a relief because I had finally figured out what was going on. I approached a doctor about getting tested for Celiacs Disease--a disease that causes the body to not be able to digest gluten and damages the small intestines. That's when I found out that I would have to start eating gluten again in order to get accurate test results. ugh. The first week was torture. Towards the end of the month my body built up a tolerance again, but I still felt like I was living in a fog.

I had an endoscopy and colonoscopy done, and all the necessary blood tests. Everything came back negative and the doctor said it must just be IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) which is basically a doctor's way of saying, "I have no idea what it is", with lactose and gluten intolerance. Okay, so great, no celiacs disease, just intolerant. So I continued to eat gluten free, but I admit that because the diagnosis wasn't serious, I began to cheat every once in awhile. All of a sudden I'm the girl who can't eat Pizza again! And even though it's not just a taste bud issue, but a medical one, it brings me back to that place as a kid, where I don't want to be the "weird girl" with food issues. If someone offers me a muffin, it's easier for me to accept it--knowing the physical consequences that I may suffer later--than to just explain I can't eat it and get "the look". I know that it's mostly in my head that anyone would think I am weird, or being hyper sensitive, or just on a fad diet. But for some reason it's something that I struggle with. It's like being ten and just wanting to eat a damn piece of pizza so I can fit in.

Just last week, after some cheating, I developed a rash. An ugly, itchy, annoying rash, on my chest and arms. The only thing I could think of that could cause it was my gluten intake. Which makes me put away any doubt that I am gluten intolerant and possibly even Celiac, even though my test results were negative (there is a high percentage of false negatives when testing for celiacs especially for people who already started eating gluten free). It's been a crazy journey, and it's made me realize some things about myself.

I am using this set back as a new beginning. Recommitting to the gluten free diet, no more cheating, and even more importantly, confronting these issues that seem to be resurfacing as a result. Among them, sharing my own struggles, listening to my body and trusting it, making peace with the hand I've been dealt, and not worrying about what others may think.

Good thing there is a bakery in town that makes an amazing gluten free pizza :)

Wishing you all health and happiness, spiritually and physically.

you have to laugh or you'll cry: UPDATE!

Miracle of miracles! My camera still works! What a lovely surprise :)

It just goes to show what a positive attitude can do! Not that a positive attitude made my camera work again (you never know!), but I could have been stressing about my camera this whole time, and mourning over the loss. Instead, because I chose to let it go, I spent the past couple of days happy and having fun with the kids, not missing it at all. Finding out that it wasn't really broken was just a bonus!

I'll be away for a few days so I may not post much the rest of the week.

Have a blessed week full of miracles!

you have to laugh or you'll cry

Sunday, I looked outside and noticed a scratch on the car. As I got closer I realized it looked curiously like the kind of scribble my three year old would make. I went over and asked him about it. He said, "I wrote my name, because it's my car!" I explained to him that this was not a good thing to do. Luckily we have a lease that pretty much covers everything so I can just get a touch up. I actually laughed because now I'm driving around with my three year old's signature on the door, it's pretty cute. I took a picture and was going to post it here, but that brings me to my next story.

Later that day, Miles came running into the living room where I was reading a book and exclaimed excitedly, "Mama! I put your camera in the fish tank!"

"you didn't!" was my reply. And I ran to the office to see for myself. Sure enough, there was my brand new camera, a birthday present from my husband, sitting at the bottom of the tank. This happened once before with my old camera, but that one was water proof, so we all had a good laugh and moved on...but this one, not so much.

I reacted. "No! Oh no!". Miles frowned, it wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. My exclamations brought my husband into the room and he yelled, "Miles!"
That's when he broke down. His little lip started quivering and he collapsed into sobs. Right away I switched gears. I held him and comforted him, and I told him that I loved him more than my camera, and more than anything in the world. It took a good twenty minutes before he was his normal smiley self again.

If you're a parent, you know that pretty much anything you own is at risk. We learned quickly how foolish it was to get a white rug. Kids make a mess, they break things, it doesn't matter how careful you are, if you have a baby or are about to have one, just take all of your valuables away right now and lock them in storage for the next 18 years. Really, it's inevitable, if it hasn't happened yet, it will. There's even a whole site devoted to it: http://www.shitmykidsruined.com/

It goes along with one of my parenting mottos: "you have to laugh or you'll cry!"

I do choose to laugh, because in the end, it's not the stuff that really matters, it's that sweet little boy you hold in your arms. All the cameras in the world couldn't replace that. Kids are mischief makers, but they never fail to remind you of what is really important in life. One of the many lessons my kids have taught me is to not be so attached to "stuff". Next time though, I'll keep the camera out of reach.

A Break in the Storm

The last full day of camp was full of excitement. Everyone was preparing for the talent show that evening and enjoying the extra free time that afternoon. But I was starting to feel the effects of the four previous days, the late nights (Miles was scared of the dark), and just the overall exhaustion that comes from chasing little boys around camp!

By the afternoon I handed the kids over to Daddy and retreated to the cabin to take a nap. Sooner than I would have liked, the boys appeared at the cabin with a plan to go swimming. Still groggy and tired, I was less than enthused about this idea. In general I like to plan things out. I like to know what to expect for the day and fit things into a time slot so that I can prepare myself for what's ahead. My husband is sometimes more spontaneous, which is a good thing, but it generally takes me awhile to warm up to the idea. Still, I played along, we got our swim stuff ready, but then there was a discussion about the pool or the lake, did the boys need a nap? The car needs gas...

Okay, here's the plan: We decided to go get gas first and then go to the lake, but on the way, the boys both fell asleep in the car.

hmm...new plan: drive back to camp since there is only an hour left before dinner

back at camp we see my mom leaving for the lake saying, "oh! I thought we would see you there!"

Plan C: a few minutes after she pulls away we decide we'll go to the lake after all, even though it means waking the boys up from a nap and only a short time to swim.

The whole time I felt completely out of control and indecisive, but I tried to go with the flow as much as possible.

Finally, we ended up at the lake, both boys awake, swimming and playing happily in the water. By then, the sky had become overcast and the beach was starting to clear out. We heard a couple rumbles in the distance.

Miles was reluctant to leave, but we finally made it to our car just before the storm hit and the rain came down in sheets. The drive back to camp was certainly exciting! We nearly missed getting hit by a fallen tree branch, and the windshield wipers were working hard to keep up with the downpour.

I said a prayer of thanks when we made it back safely to camp. Everyone was gathered inside the dinning hall getting ready to sing for dinner. It created quite and intimate atmosphere. Miles immediately found his place in the center of the circle and proceeded to sing and dance, jumping up and down with pure joy. It was a beautiful moment; Thunder booming outside, our voices echoing the passion of mother nature; the relief of making it through the storm and being enveloped in the joy and excitement of the moment. Miles even gave the prayer for dinner--the crowd went wild!

Spontaneity is not always my strong suit, but when I can learn to accept it and just see what unfolds instead of trying to control the situation, wonderful things can happen. These are what make up our most memorable experiences. Sometimes you just have to stop worrying and sit back and see what unexpected gifts the day has to bring.

Open the door to possibility!

Camp Shehaqua: Day 1-2

How beautiful to be out in nature and to be with so many wonderful people! Since I'm here with young children, I find myself with even more free time than normal. As many people as there are, in the afternoons everyone is spread out over the camp with different activities. It leaves the main areas relatively quiet. In a way it would be nice to participate in some of the activities, but I've found ways to pass the time.

While the boys were playing in the sand box I found a nice level spot of grass to do some yoga. I love doing yoga outside, sans mat, there is something so freeing and energizing about it. Even though by the end the boys were trying to climb on my back during down-dog to get a horsie ride, it was nice while it lasted!

The Dinner Line

Meal times are always a bit chaotic with the crowds. I usually try to jump in line first or take a few things from the salad bar so that the kids can eat right away. At dinner, I got the kids all set up with my husband and then decided to go back in line to get food for him and I. I made my way to the back of the line, and even though several people offered to let me go ahead of them, I decided to wait it out. Actually, at this point waiting in line felt like a luxury. No squirmy baby in my arms or three year old darting in and out of the line. I felt completely content to move slowly and make conversation with the people standing next to me. It's really all about how we look at things. How many times have I gotten annoyed about waiting in line? In lines much smaller than this! But here, waiting in line feels like freedom, peace, like walking a labyrinth. It really makes it apparent that we have the ability to choose how we react to the circumstances we are given, and not let the circumstances themselves dictate our emotions. I will try to harness that feeling the next time I find my patience growing thin with a slow clerk at the grocery store!

I don't have hours or even minutes some days to sit in lotus and chant, but waiting in that dinner line was like a meditation; just being able to slow down, focus on the present moment, and be free for awhile from all the fast, frenetic, little boy energy. If we are present, anything we do can be a meditation. Anything we do can be a prayer. Sometimes it will be the most unexpected moment, the simplest thing, like standing in line for dinner, that creates the space for us to receive peace. The tiny moments are meaningful, every moment can be special.

God is talking to us all the time in these little moments. There is a story from right here at Camp Shehaqua where someone gave a testimony about how they found God in a bug. Maybe that fly that is buzzing around your head is really God trying to get your attention. God isn't always a big booming voice, more often than not, he shows up in the little things, and is easy to find if we just take the time to notice.