Following my comments about joining the children at they lead the way toward change (Earth Day!), I wanted to share some of our thoughts. We have made a list of things we can change or do better, and the boys are definitely the ones holding me and our family accountable. We have embarked on our challenge, and are making changes. We may not halt global warming, or save endangered species this week or next, but it is a start. And the ripples are spreading… I hear them talk to their friends, and educate their guests (sometimes in less than subtle or polite ways). And I know that they are thinking and making connections. They have figured out that carpooling is better for the planet, and suddenly it is cool to get a ride home with someone, rather than disappointing that I didn’t make it to school. They are going to amaze us with their insights, ideas, and new ways of doing everyday things. I can’t wait to see what they come up with!

In the meantime, here is our humble start. Please let us know what else you are working on, and let’s keep building our list and sharing our ideas. Together, the little people CAN save the earth!

1. Separate waste at home into recycling and compost bins and only put what’s left into the trash.
2. Turn off all the lights when you leave a room. Remember to turn off TVs and computers when you are not using them.
3. Turn off the water when you are brushing your teeth. 
4. Use a reusable water bottle instead of plastic ones that you throw away.
5. Stop using plastic straws for drinks. Instead bring along reusable ones, or just go without. Ask restaurants not to bring any straws to your table.
6. Use a reusable cup or flask for visits to coffee shops or ask for a mug instead of a paper cup that you throw away.
7. Pick up ten pieces of trash in your neighborhood. Can you do this every time you go to the park?
8. Walk or ride your bike instead of taking a bus or car. Maybe once a week?
9. Take reusable bags to the grocery store.
10. Use both side of a piece of paper before recycling it. Saving paper saves trees and trees help the earth breathe.
11. Use a cloth towel to dry your hands in the kitchen instead of paper towels. Also, you can use cloth napkins at the table instead of paper.
12. Take a shower instead of a bath once a week, or run less water into the bath. Maybe share the water with your brother; bath together or take turns…
13. Don’t flush the toilet more than you need to. Every flush uses lots of water.
14. Don’t let your balloons fly away, or maybe don’t have balloons at your parties. They get into all kinds of places and get eaten by animals…
15. Use reusable sandwich bags instead of plastic baggies that you throw away.
16. Don’t put your produce in plastic bags at the store – they can travel home loose and get put away straight from the shopping bag and you save on more plastic in the trash!
17. Plant trees. They help clean the air, they are homes for many creatures; and they are beautiful to look at and shady to sit under!
18. Go for a hike and spend time in nature.

It’s Earth Day!

For several weeks I have been thinking a lot about climate change. It feel like suddenly I see stories everywhere about how harmful single use plastic straws are, how dangerous balloons are to animals when they are released, how much trash we generate every day, how precious water is to all of us…  I am not sure if I am just listening more carefully, or if people are talking more and making more noise. I hear things that frighten me. And I think my kids hear it too. We hear that, if humans continue littering, polluting, burning through resources, poisoning the ground, the water, the air, showing no respect for our home planet, we will soon outstay our welcome here. We hear that, if we continue the way we are, ice caps will melt, (see this article in The Telegraph) releasing large quantities of methane currently trapped in the ice, causing further warming. Of course there will also be countless creatures in danger from the disappearing ice, rising ocean levels, and who knows what else! This video of a polar bear faced with melting ice and lack of food should be enough to melt most hearts…

I have never worried too much about these things. I have tried to be responsible, but I have not gone much out of my way to help the earth.  Maybe I believed that the government would take care of the big decisions, so I just needed to stay within their guidelines. Maybe I was ignorant. Maybe things just weren’t that bad before? But now, my husband comes home from work events full of tales of doom and talks of having to move to Mars. My son is studying endangered animals and tells us all the horrible things people are doing to destroy habitats, pollute the air, and poison crops and food sources. My sister lives in Cape Town, the first modern city to possibly run completely out of water, in a disaster that has been likened to 9/11 in it’s impact and severity (Business Insider). Interestingly, and perhaps unsurprisingly, the biggest water users in Cape Town are in the ‘leafy suburbia’ (University of Cape Town news). The wealthy somehow either believe the rules don’t apply to them; or they are just happy to pay fines or higher rates for resources. Which is why perhaps those rates have to be high enough to fund alternative sources of water or sustainable energy…

But how can we achieve major change? We are a well educated family, trying to be thoughtful about our planet, with kids learning about the environment at school, and passionately working to help nature and animals. But, we live in a big house, which we heat and cool to a comfortable temperature for much of the year. We all bath or shower (pretty much) everyday. We run dishwashers, washing machines, humidifiers. We leave the lights on when we run out in a mad flurry in the mornings. We have two cars, and drive almost everywhere. We order from Amazon regularly. We buy too much food, and ending up with waste. And yet, we are not the worst offenders either.

We recycle, we compost, we do art projects with egg boxes and science experiments with leftover cabbage. We talk to our children about the earth and we take them outside. They have learned to love nature and animals. They brush their teeth with the water turned off and take lunch to school in cloth sandwich bags and reusable containers. We pass on kids’ gear and games, donate old clothes and pots, and support the World Wildlife Fund and The Nature Conservancy. But if we are going to turn things around on this planet, people like us, ordinary citizens who are not zealots or activists or extremists, will have to change our behavior even more.

I can’t see us making huge changes just because someone says our planet is in danger and the damage we are doing may be irreversible soon. I can’t see millions of people around the world changing their familiar daily routines without some serious incentives or a good hard push. A lot has to change, and quickly – time is of the essence here. Just talking about the dangers and educating people about climate change is not going to do it. Though we should keep doing this as much as possible, and go boldly into uncomfortable conversations and disagreements. But I am not a policy maker, lobbyist or politician. And I don’t know enough about what needs to change to advocate intelligently. I do believe we need change at a macro level – new policies, prices and perspectives. Meanwhile, what I can do, is continue to educate my children, and do my best within our family and community.

The boys and I recently read a book together in which children take up a challenge to change their own behaviors and to educate their families, creating ripples of positive change to help the earth (Ready Freddy: Save the Earth – by Abby Klein) My boys were inspired by the story, and we have created our own “Green Team Challenge”, to work on changing behaviors at home, and spreading new ideas to our friends, class mates, and teachers.

Together, we will work to use less water. We will work to burn less fuel. We will work to turn off the lights every time we leave a room. We can learn new patterns with our children, and listen closely to what they have to teach us.

I am excited that my children are taking up the challenge and leading the charge to be more conscious of our planet. Will you join me, as I follow the children’s lead, and learn from them?

 

Reflecting on past years and past posts, it is clear that January is not a time when I make resolutions, begin the new year with gusto, start a new fitness regime or any routine at all really… January is not for resolutions. And definitely not a time when I manage to keep myself or my family healthy. And here we are again. We are just emerging from several weeks of illness and trying to find our stride. It isn’t even January anymore and I am still trying to get a grip on 2018. 

This year so far feels like a blur of days on the couch fighting fevers, anxieties about school (both mine and the boys’), phone calls and emails about things like car repairs and taxes, kids’ birthday parties, washing (sheets, clothes, hands, dishes) and the never completed task of grocery shopping. I have no sense of having made a plan or established a rhythm for the days and weeks. We just lurch from one thing to the next and hope that we will not arrive too late or too woefully unprepared for whatever happens next.

This week we  happened upon International Pancake Day at our favorite breakfast place, which specializes in pancakes. But that day was of course also Shrove Tuesday, the final day for feasting, eating rich foods, and indulging in pancakes before living more modestly for Lent. And then followed a rather ironic Ash Wednesday Valentine’s Day, the day for atoning and turning over a new leaf and of course giving up chocolate; and at the same time the day for celebrating love and connections and eating chocolatey treats. To me, it makes sense to start a new year NOW.  Not before all this, in a daze from Christmas and over eating drinking consuming entertaining… Not while trying to recover and get kids into some sort of routine and figure out a way to detox and change all the sheets and wash all the pans and eat all the leftovers… NOW is a much better time to celebrate new beginnings – there is a promise of Spring in the longer days, and we can look forward to new growth, new life, new light… Valentine’s day has reminded us to love ourselves, appreciate our family and friends, and to be kind and loving… We have survived 6 weeks of germs, flus, fevers and come out the other side. It is no longer dark when we wake up for school, or no longer too hot to sleep at night, for those anxiously awaiting the cooler days of autumn and the rains of winter. 

This week, in between recovering from fevers, the craziness of Valentine’s day, a big celebration at school, and a sprinkling of snow, it suddenly hit me. It seems obvious now really…  The time to celebrate new year is NOW. And of course those who follow the lunar calendar are doing just that. It makes sense, doesn’t it, since the lunar calendar predates ours by thousands of years. So let’s don red, eat dumplings, join a parade and make some noise!

It is indeed a time to celebrate new beginnings! Happy Chinese New Year! Gung hay fat choy!

As I reflect on the past month or so, and all the celebrating we have done in the lead up to the holidays – celebrating my birthday, surviving Halloween (!), enjoying Thanksgiving, and sharing in several office events, I find myself thinking a lot about community.  On my birthday, I felt a tremendous sense of belonging and connectedness. I was surrounded by family and friends and well wishes all day. I felt I mattered and I felt loved. It was wonderful to feel that I had built a community that could share in my celebrations. On Halloween, a week later, I was tangibly aware of my local neighborhood community, when my kids tore around the streets in the dark and were met with nothing but smiles, candy and well wishes. It was an arduous night in some ways (parents of young kids will agree, I’m sure), but I was struck by the warmth, generosity and kindness of our neighbors, and the general camaraderie and cheer that filled the brisk autumn night air. Thanksgiving was a very quiet time for us, without any big events or family gatherings, but wonderfully restorative and a great reminder of the importance of spending time with our little family of four. All the office events over the last month or so have been rather different, but colleagues too are a part of our community, our network, the people in our daily lives. We got to know them, built connections, and found common ground. We celebrated belonging to an electric group of pioneers, who have traveled, read, and explored deeply.

All this got me thinking about what community really means, and why it matters. We’ve all heard the expression, ‘It takes a village to raise a child’. I would argue, it also takes a village to sustain an adult.  According to Psychology Today, ‘a sense of belonging to a greater community improves your motivation, health, and happiness’. Community helps you feel connected to others and reminds you that you are not alone in your struggles. This can be very comforting, and generally tends to make you feel better. (https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/pieces-mind/201403/create-sense-belonging). When I look back at all the times I have moved from one place to another in my life, it was the building of a community that changed the place from strange new city to something like home.

The first move I made on my own, not as a result of my parents’ restlessness, was a bold move from Cape Town, South Africa, to a town called Kure, near Hiroshima, Japan. It was certainly very challenging in many ways, from being illiterate again, to suffering the vagaries of Japanese weather and cuisine. But it was bearable because I had a sort of instant community among other newcomers who were there for the same reason. I quickly met two other young women around my own age, one from Canada, one from California, who became my family during that year we shared being foreign. In spite of being noticeably different from most of the people around us, we had a feeling of belonging or membership amongst ourselves. We were often alone in our separate towns, teaching kids of different ages at very different schools, getting desperately lost in translation. But we knew that an understanding ear was just a call or a weekend visit away. The experience we shared created an emotional connection which sustained us when we felt lost and alone.  There were others in my community too – other teachers I met along the way, predecessors full of wisdom and anecdotes, my Japanese supervisor who took great pains to support and mentor me, Japanese teachers who tried to interpret the intricacies of their ancient language for me, staff at my schools, and many more. This community made my year in Japan memorable, rich, and a lot less lonely and difficult.

The next time I moved a great distance was several years later, when I accompanied my (then not yet) husband to California. It should have been easier than moving to Japan. I could read road signs, I could speak to strangers, I could interpret the bus schedule and get around town. And yet, it was harder. Mainly because I had no one. My (now) husband was off traveling for work – the job that had given us the opportunity to move to California – within a matter of days after our arrival. And I was completely alone. I stayed with friends of his, who were incredibly kind, but it was somewhat awkward once he left. I soon found an apartment and began building IKEA furniture. Alone. And wandering the streets, taking in the breathtaking beauty of San Francisco. Alone. Having a sense that you matter, or influence, is a very important part of feeling happy and valued or valuable. And it was hard to muddle along without that. No one understood who I was or what I could do, or had done, in my own right. And I had no community of my own to validate me. That first year in the USA, was one of the most difficult years of my life.

And now, as I am about two and half years into my most recent move (to Colorado), and celebrating many high days here, in gorgeous autumn weather, I feel tremendous gratitude for the community that I have around me. I am very happy that I have a community around me where I live, because on a day to day basis, that support really matters. Whether it is the impromptu coffee with a couple of moms from school one morning, or the afternoon with kids running wild and parents sharing a moment of understanding, or the dinner with the smart, interesting women who are now in my life – these are the interactions that make life more manageable, more meaningful, and so much richer. Thank you all for being part of my daily life!

In addition to these wonderful people I have found in Colorado, I have a wider community that reaches to Japan, San Francisco, London, Spain, Australia, and of course South Africa. I have realized that I am fortunate enough to have a community that is not only local, but also global. I received birthday messages from friends far and wide, and really felt beautiful connections that stretched to people and places I seldom see, but have not lost. I have friends and family in these far away places that I still care about and want to have in my life. People I want to find ways to see and spend time with and stay connected to. Because they make me feel good about being me. They share some part of my history and context.  They enrich my life. And hopefully in some small way I do the same for them.

And without these connections, both local and global, how would we all manage to raise families, go to work, cook meals, and stay (somewhat) sane? We all need a sense of belonging, of being part of a community or group, of being on a path others have walked, rather than lone travelers on an empty road. We all need daily conversations, however brief or interrupted; interactions with other people along the way, whether just the guy serving your coffee or another mom wrangling kids or a colleague or dear friend. We all need help sometimes – someone to talk to, someone to pick up kids, someone to make dinner, or pick up some milk. We can’t do it all alone. Community sustains us, and supports us, both practically and spiritually.

In today’s fragmented, high speed, transient world, achieving a sense of belonging, of being part of a meaningful community, of connecting deeply with others – can be challenging. But for me, life without community, is far too hard and lonely. So I will keep working on building community around me and my family, so that we may have a village to share in our trials, joys, and special days. 

 

* As I was writing this, and thinking about the importance of community, I stumbled on an article in The Community Manager which talks about four factors that are required to create a community. I found these ideas rather pertinent and aligned with my thinking, so I have provided a brief overview of the four factors here and I have marked their terms in bold as they appear in my story. The first factor is membership, a feeling of belonging. The second factor is influence, which is a sense that you matter, or your opinions and ideas matter, and is a mutual feeling among group members. It can be hard to have this sense of being heard as a mom! I recognize that it is one of the things I miss most about a professional environment where I had skills, training, and insights that were valuable and appreciated by my colleagues. The third factor is integration and fulfillment of needs, a sense that the community does something for you or helps you in some way, and fulfill the expectations you had of being a member. If membership in a community is not rewarding, members will tend to drift away. The reward, at least for me, may be as simple as sharing your story and experiences and knowing that others do not judge you, or that you are not alone. The fourth and final factor, and perhaps the most critical, is shared emotional connection. (http://thecommunitymanager.com/2013/11/19/the-psychology-of-communities-4-factors-that-create-a-sense-of-community/)

On Wednesday we had swimming lessons right after school and then the boys convinced me that we should go to McDonalds. I wanted to resist, because really what is there to like? I don’t care for the burgers, I don’t love the ambiance, I’m not a huge fan of the play structures enclosed like chicken coops… But I agreed. Because by the time we left the pool, it was dinner time and there was nothing ready at home. My options were (a) to go home with two tired, hungry boys and have them entertain themselves (aka fight with each other) while throwing together something only marginally more nutritious than a Happy Meal, like maybe grilled cheese sandwiches, or (b) to go to McDonalds and have dinner made for us and enjoy their happy faces and joyful playing in the aforementioned chicken coop. So I opted for the latter and I did not regret it. I fed them carrot sticks on the way to appease my conscience and them jumped into the fast food experience.

The boys each ordered a Happy Meal, one with apple slices, one with yoghurt (good additions, right?) and then ran off to play, shrieking with glee. I found a chicken burger with guacamole that sounded bearable and sat down to watch them. They climbed and laughed and made new friends and came running at the smell of chicken nuggets. They ate with enthusiasm and big smiles. They tore open their toys and squealed at the silly dino who can stick out his tongue. It was all exuberance and fun and play. Then they ran off again, making more friends, spinning, doing tricks with dino.

For my part, I managed two conversations that each lasted a full five minutes, all while watching the boys and smiling and waving at their antics. I was relaxed, they were happy. And that is why I don’t regret the less than stellar nutrition of our meals or perhaps questionable hygiene of the play area. Because we all relaxed and had fun. We even had a long chat about the day and all the things we had done and shared some jokes. They were elated that they had got their choice, and that joy was contagious. We came home tired and happy, ready for stories and snuggles.

I’m not saying I want to make this a regular thing, but the lesson for me was that there is a place for McDonalds. And short cuts in general. Or trade offs. No one can do it all, all the time. Of course it doesn’t have to be McDonalds, or even have anything to do with food. Maybe we trade wearing shoes, for brushing our hair somedays. Or picking up toys for having a bath. On Wednesday, I traded healthy, fresh, home cooked food for a relaxed family. I wasn’t stressed about getting food on the table, so instead I could just have fun with my kids. I was a better mom because I made a ‘questionable’ choice. I didn’t shout. They didn’t fight. We all just played. That worked for us. And I think more unsuper trade offs are in our future. I spend a lot of time organizing toys and books and art supplies, and choosing and buying preparing food, and reading endless articles about parenting… These are all worthwhile endeavors in the quest for being a better parent and taking good care of the kids, until they take the place of actually being with the kids and really listening to them and just seeing who they are. So I think that means more play time for me!

The past few weeks have been filled with a series of challenges in letting go. Well,

let’s be honest, motherhood is one long exercise in letting go, from the moment you let that precious little being out of the protective confines of your own body, to the day you wave goodbye as they drive themselves away from the shelter of the family nest.

I started writing about letting go as the school year got under way and I had to say goodbye so many times, in so many ways. I wanted to write about how mothers and fathers, and others who love deeply, have to constantly let go. About the importance and necessity of allowing your children to grow and become independent. About how hard it can be as a mother to step back, make space, and trust these little people to make their own way. About the worry and anxiety, ever present in motherhood – will my precious little bundles be competent enough, brave enough, strong enough? will the world be too rough for them? will they receive the love and care they need and deserve? will they make friends; will these friends treat them with affection and kindness; will they stand up for themselves when confronted with injustice? will they know what to do when I am not there to help them navigate the wild world?

And of course my own anxiety… I have spent almost 7 years doing little other than caring for these boys. And now I am at a crossroads, on the brink of an existential crisis! Will I know what to do with myself; will I find something meaningful to do with my time? That is after I deal with the endless piles of paper and bills that have been accumulating waiting for my attention, implement the fitness regime that I never seem to get around to, and get into a rhythm of cooking healthy and delicious meals for myself and my family…

I set out writing about how hard the start of this school year was, but how I was learning to let go. I remembered a particularly rough day as school started, when I had to head off to jury duty when one boy had his first field trip of the year and the other had his first playdate at his new school. It was no small thing for me to leave it to someone else to ensure they had all the necessary gear, wore the right clothes, brought the right food and snacks, carried enough water, remembered dry socks (and the little one a change of clothes just in case), and arrived where they had to be on time and in good spirits. Both were nervous about their days and needed not only the right stuff, but special guidance and support, to navigate new terrain, and find ways to open up to new classmates and teachers. I spent half the night ensuring I had done everything I could to prepare them, and then I had to let them go, let them find their way without me. I lost sleep over this big day, but they had excellent care (and all the gear I had painstakingly prepared), and they made their way without me. I let them go, even if it was just for a little while.

I reflected on moments where letting go felt right and I saw my kids grow because I stepped back and gave them space. I watched as my boys walked away, venturing into new territories, not needing me to hold their hands for every step. I was amazed at all that was expected of them, and of me. I left my big boy at the door to his classroom; not walking in, not staying for the morning meeting, not stopping to chat with the teachers.  I picked up a child, somehow more independent, more mature, more self-sufficient at the end of the day, and marveled at how he had grown since the morning. I no longer know everything that happened in his day, or monitor all his interactions with others. He is still my baby boy, and still adorable (though I’m not allowed to say so), but he is stretching out his wings and testing them on short flights of his own.

Preparing to send the little one to preschool for three long days all on his own, was even more difficult. I wondered how I would know what he did all day when he told me the tales of his adventures in his own peculiar language, and I lacking context, didn’t understand. I wondered if they would take him to the potty often enough, listen to him well enough, talk to him gently enough, allow him to rest when he couldn’t go on another moment… We talked about school and he was so excited, and so proud. He carried his new lunchbox, wore his new shirt, and walked in with confidence. He seemed pleased with the things he was learning and the chance to teach us something for a change. It seemed that letting go was what he needed, at least at first…

But then I was confronted with a pain to deep to ignore. I wrestled with myself because I thought letting go was so important, but this did not feel right. I tried to convince myself that I just needed to make space and this little person would emerge, more competent and independent than before. And we would both be so proud of what we had accomplished. But the searing pain in my heart and the wracking sobs escaping from both of us, told a different story.

I picked him up at the end of the first day and he was swallowing sobs, because I didn’t come soon enough. The second day was better. The next time we had to go to school, he started crying hours before we got there. By the time we got to school, he was calmer, but as soon as I said goodbye, tears began running down his cheeks. I left him with a forced cheery greeting and came home to sob in my empty house. Now I can’t bring myself to take him back to school. We tried again a few times, but the way he crumpled and begged me not to drop him off when we got there, made it impossible for me to leave him.

After trying to ignore these protests, sleepless nights, and tears (from both of us), I finally listened. I realized that sometimes, it is not letting go, or stepping back, or making room, that is required, but rather just listening and trusting and staying close. I listened to my child, who was very clear about his feelings, and I listened to myself, whose physical and emotional reactions were equally clear.

So perhaps I will cling to them a little tighter, just for now. Enjoy a bit more time being full time mom, devoting my time and energy to simply loving them, feeding them, clothing them. To sharing stories, playing games, kicking balls, riding bikes, snuggling at bedtime. Because I know that I will never regret spending this time with them and making them my priority. But I might regret if I don’t. After all, there is plenty of time for letting go, isn’t there?

I don’t believe that keeping a 3 year old out of preschool is going to jeopardize his future. It was not so long ago that I weaned this little guy; not so long ago that he cried when I strapped him into his car seat and walked around the car to my own seat because he thought I was gone; not so long ago that he finally got used to a babysitter so I could get away for a few hours; not so long ago that they learned to sleep in their own beds (most of the time!) So we are constantly separating, but we don’t need to rush it!

We do many of these things several times a day, in some form or another. I let them go to school without brushing their hair; I let them make Nutella toast for breakfast and pack snacks and lunch for school, and bite my tongue about the choices; I let them leave the house with clothes on backwards and shoes on the wrong feet, because they dressed independently. I leave them overnight to see my sister, or call the sitter so I can go out for dinner or pilates, or just a sanity break at a coffee shop!

When we are ready and able to deal with another goodbye, I will continue carefully stepping back and watch them take short flights of their own. I know there will come a time when I will have to let them go, let them do things that are hard for them and for me, say goodbye, step back, and watch them make mistakes and maybe (probably) even get hurt.The goodbyes will just get bigger… I am reminding myself that we are all people, with very real and valid emotions. If we can keep talking about how we feel, and how hard these goodbyes are, maybe we can make it through them. What I do not want to do, is ignore their feelings, or my own, and force us apart before we are ready. We are all figuring this out as we go along, and I will let go slowly and gently, a little at a time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guilt (n), a feeling of deserving blame especially for imagined offenses or from a sense of inadequacy, a feeling of deserving blame for offenses  (Merriam-Webster, my emphasis)

Guilt is a cognitive or an emotional experience that occurs when a person believes   or realizes—accurately or not—that he or she has compromised his or her own standards of conduct or has violated a universal moral standard and bears significant responsibility for that violation. (Wikipedia, my emphasis)

I have surprised myself over the past 6 or so years by becoming a full-time fully committed wife and mother. So much has changed in my life over this period that I sometimes struggle to recognize myself. Before getting married and thinking about a family, and trying to get pregnant, and finally being pregnant, and then miraculously having a gorgeous baby boy, and then another, I was a whole different person. I was independent and unfettered. I talked about different things, I wore different clothes, I cooked different food… I worked long days, rode the bus, went to yoga regularly, took long walks, had dinner with friends, read entire novels in a weekend (or stayed up all night!), lounged in the bath, binge watched 24 for hours on end, slept in, ate brunch at 11am!

Well, some things are the same… I still work really long days, like 24 hours a day, every day.  I still go to yoga, about once every other month. I walk to the park, or around the block at the lighting fast pace of a toddler on a scooter. I have dinner with friends… at 4pm, surrounded by children running, giggling, crying. I sometimes sleep in til 7am. And have brunch at 8am.

One of the big changes that really came as a surprise, and shocks me even now, is the unwitting self-sacrifice and the relentless guilt. I never thought I would give up my favorite foods because someone else didn’t like them, or liked them more. I never imagined that I would stop lounging in the bath when I wanted to relax at the end of a long day. I never expected to spend so much of my time and energy on others, and so very little on myself. So many things are different in marriage and parenthood than I imagined, and so many ‘perfect parenting’ beliefs that I held before having real human children have fluttered away on the wind. It has taken years to recognize some of the sacrifices I make and the resentment they cause. As I finally begin to see this fantastically unhealthy cycle of relinquishing things without being asked, and then resenting others because I gave up something I enjoy (or need!), I gain new perspective. I am able to see that no one asks or expects me to make sacrifices, and no one but me is responsible for the choices I make.

Sacrifice and priority are tricky concepts in motherhood (or at least they are for me). It does seem that mothers are expected  to make their children their top priority (by society, other parents, random strangers who are only sometimes well-meaning) – and I agree that this feels right – but I am starting to see that it does not necessarily mean kicking myself off the priority list. Many sage women and mothers have told me over the years to take care of myself, to make sure that I take breaks, stay healthy, stay balanced, that putting all the focus on your family can make you crazy and inevitably make your family crazy too… I heard all these words and thought I understood them, but I didn’t really. Because I didn’t know that I would need this advice. I was a strong, independent woman who knew how to take care of herself, so why did they talk about this stuff as if it would be so hard. Now I finally get it… IT IS SO HARD! So so hard! Harder than I could have ever imagined. I struggle daily to find the line between making my family my priority and sacrificing my own needs. Sometimes I get it, sometimes I absolutely don’t.

I love my boys more than anything in the whole wide world, and I would do anything for them, so where and how do you draw a line? How do you choose between going to an important work reception and staying home with a sick boy? What is prioritizing your kids, and what is self-sacrifice? And then of course there’s guilt, playing a starring role. In this situation, I would probably end up feeling some guilt, no matter what I chose to do… guilt about leaving my husband to attend the work reception alone or (probably greater guilt) about leaving my sick baby.

I keep reminding myself that guilt is useless and try to put it down. I know that it is far more useful to do something differently, make changes to my behaviors or schedule or routines so that I don’t have to feel guilty. But sometimes it feels like taking care of all 4 people in this family is more than I can manage, and I will always be neglecting one of us, and feeling bad about it. And sometimes making the necessary changes feels impossible, insurmountable, or simply unfathomable. What would I need to change to eliminate guilt? What would I need to change to ensure that all my boys, even the biggest one, get the attention they deserve, and I also don’t neglect myself? IT IS SO HARD!

Time and energy and resources are finite. We have only 24 hours a day to spend with our kids, partners, families, friends, schools, colleagues and ourselves; or only 168 hours a week!! So even though I try to carefully distribute the hours, making sure everyone gets some – a few hours helping in the classroom at school with my big boy every week, a few hours at classes with my little one, a few hours to attend to bills and emails, a few hours for swimming practice with the boys, a few hours cooking and preparing meals and snacks, a few hours playing or cleaning up toys, a few hours of sleep here and there… Sometimes the hours run out and I don’t have any left to go to the gym, get a pedicure, have a date with my husband… And somehow, maybe because the squeaky wheel gets the oil, these are the things that are often shortchanged. I don’t squeak much for my own attention, my husband does once in while, but mostly he is too busy, and pretty self sufficient. But those kids can squeak!! To be fed, snuggled, played with, taken places, read to… And so they should! If their squeaks get no reactions from their parents, the very people who are supposed to protect, love, and nurture them, who will listen? What will they learn about the world, if even I don’t respond to them? What are their chances of growing into the kind, caring, attentive adults that our world so desperately needs?

Of course guilt is a waste of emotional energy, because it achieves nothing but self-punishment and keeps us out of the moment we are in. When my husband and I left the boys to go away together earlier this year, I was wracked with a guilt so profound and painful I thought I might crack. Only when I was totally convinced that the boys were safe and happy, could I put down that load and live in the present moment, enjoying the precious time I had to spend with my husband. Guilt is not always easy to put down though, and in motherhood, I feel it often. I struggle with giving ‘adequate’ time and attention to each child, with giving ‘enough’ affection and hugs, with being ‘properly’ present and involved in both of their lives, friendships, activities, challenges. I put these words in ‘quotes’ because they are impossible, unquantifiable, limitless expectations that I impose on myself. And if I fail to live up to these self-imposed, imagined expectations, I feel remorse, a feeling of having done wrong, guilt.

I guess I will keep bumbling along, trying to take care of myself as much as anyone else in the family – or the world! – and sometimes I will succeed, while other times I will fail miserably and neglect myself until I become grumbly and impatient and anxious, and then I will know that it’s been too long since I gave myself attention. I am still learning. And this IS SO HARD! I will try not to get to that place where I become unpleasant and unhinged, but it will probably happen again. All I can do is try to pay attention to myself in the midst of everything else that is going on, and at least notice the signs when they start. My body usually knows when it’s time to stop cleaning, cooking, carting, caring and take a break, indulge myself, be selfish. These words have grown to have so many negative connotations but they are sensible, healthy choices we should be making more often, more easily, more freely.

I hope that we can support each other in ditching the guilt and being strong, smart, selfish unsuper moms.

 

 

I was having a pancake with another mom this week, with our two littlest ones, and feeling a little guilty about swanning around in cafes when others were hard at work and busy at school. We talked, as moms do, about our kids, teaching them kindness, getting them to help around the house, bedtime struggles, and our challenges with getting them to listen, or even hear us! We vented our frustrations, and gained comfort from the shared experiences. And we exchanged ideas and tips and strategies. It was lovely!

Later in the week, a mom and I tried to have a glass of wine amidst interruptions from all four of our boys. Again we talked mostly about mom stuff like sibling rivalry, chores, house rules… We got particularly into how we struggle to organize our homes and the stubborn and insistent challenge of managing the kid stuff. (The stuff that tends to explode and invade every space in your home. The stuff that manages to lose important pieces in obscure places, rendering the game or toy unusable, so that it becomes a hideous monolithic sculpture in your living room. The stuff that defies organization, however many bins, boxes or shelves you acquire. The stuff that harbors old lunches and sweaty socks for weeks before disgorging the ripe contents in the middle of the kitchen as you’re attempting to cook for guests.) This particular line of conversation was less strategic and more cathartic. We more or less agreed that it’s an insurmountable problem, contrary to what all those ‘super’ mom blogs say about ‘easy’ organizing tips. The thing is, no matter how organized you are or how good your system is, there are real human children involved here! Again I felt a twang of guilt thinking of my husband working away diligently while I was sipping wine, eating chocolate covered strawberries and having a good chat with a friend.

By the weekend, we were socializing with other families, again exchanging ideas, experiences, and strategies for managing family life and work. It was only in the shower at the end of a long day, at the end of the week, that it hit me – these are very important business meetings for moms. We need this exchange of ideas to stimulate us and get our parent juices flowing. We need to see other people’s children in action to normalize the behavior of our own offspring. We need to hear what other families are doing at dinner time, bedtime, or before school so that can try new things, steal a trick, raise our game.  We need to vent to others who understand our experience so that we don’t take our frustrations out on our children. These meetings challenge us to be better parents, by making us think. And they remind us that we are not alone.

I also realized that almost no one thinks they’re doing a great job as a parent. Or rather, we are all doing our best, but we beat ourselves up about what we are not doing, or what we don’t think we’re doing well enough. These meetings show us that we are not the worst parents in the world, even though many us feel that way, and we are better at some things and not so great at others, because we are all human! I asked some other moms this week about chores or jobs at home, because it’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately, and they all said something about how they’re not good about that. Who is making them feel bad? What are they not doing that worries them? Why are they not patting themselves on the back for healthy, happy children who are still alive at the end of each day? This is another reason these meetings are important – so that we can pat each other on the back and compliment each other for the brilliant idea that has been shared, or the sweetness of the toddler who shared a toy, or the cool organization of the art supplies. We do so many miraculous things as parents all day, and all night, every day and every night, without really a break in sight, and yet we always expect more and better of ourselves. How is this sustainable? No other job is so relentless. And no other job provides so little in the way of performance appraisals praising areas of strength and excellent achievement, and bringing attention to areas for growth. (I have to thank my mom for doing some of this – for caring enough and knowing enough to notice when I’m doing great and when I need some reminders.)

So if I may, I’d like to share an idea I garnered from my conversations this week, which I am excited to try. My husband and I have been talking a lot about this issue of consequences, faced with the fact that the kids often don’t care. If you throw that again, I’m taking that toy away. Well, so many others to play with, so who cares. If you kick your brother again, we are going to take a break in the other room. Well then I get you to myself for a minute, so that’s fine with me. My husband keeps saying we should use time outs because every body does that, but neither of us really knows how or why they work, nor do we really believe that withdrawing from the kids, or isolating them, will help them learn how to be kind, respectful people. So we have been coming up empty handed. Enter the new idea of the day… I’ll call them ‘team jars’ for now. Our family talks a lot about being a team, and how we all need to be part of the team, and do our part in the team. We try to avoid black and white language like ‘good’ and ‘bad’ or ‘nice’ and ‘naughty’ and talk about making choices and team work. So hence the name ‘team jars’.

The idea is to have a jar – I think we’ll start with half pint mason jars – which each child can fill with tokens for acts of kindness, respect, helpfulness and responsiveness. For example, bringing an ice pack to your brother when he hurts himself, offering a guest a drink, helping your mom set the table, or doing what you’re asked right away (without several increasingly irate reminders from your parents or increasingly desperate pleas from your brother to let him go). We still need to figure out exactly what qualifies and probably have guidelines written down somewhere, because my kids are sticklers that way. We also need to specify how may tokens a particular action merits. My oldest already started advocating for 2 tokens for some behaviors when I mentioned the idea to him, so we’ll have to be very specific to avoid conflict. So, when the jar is full, the child is entitled to a one-on-one ‘date’ with mom or dad to go and get ice-cream, or something along those lines. The main idea is that they get special, positive, one-on-one time with a parent. And that we refocus, as a family, on behaviors and actions that makes us an awesome team, rather than all the attention going to the things that bring us down.

So, the little animal tokens ( found these when searching for ‘counting bears’ on Amazon ) have arrived, the kids are excited about this new idea, the parents are optimistic about the benefits of focusing on positives, and we are ready to try something new! I’ll keep you posted… and I’d love to hear if you’ve tried something similar, or other tips for motivating kids… And I’ll keep talking to other moms and parents, exchanging ideas, sharing views, providing support and comfort. And I’ll try to remember that we are all human and keep learning and practicing how to be a parent.

 

 

Vacations are great. Once you get there and all the preparing, researching, booking flights, finding accommodation, renting cars, packing, schlepping, cleaning, traveling, and organizing are over. And you’ve gotten over the jetlag and general fatigue of travel. And recovered from the stress of getting ready for this trip. Vacations are not for the faint hearted! Have you ever found yourself manically productive the day or week before you leave for vacation? I am acutely and chronically afflicted by manic pre-vacation productivity syndrome. I run around sorting out closets that have long been ignored, cleaning the fridge, organizing  the children’s clothes and suddenly finding it terribly urgent to get everything that doesn’t fit properly out of their drawers, devising new ways to store toys, throwing out artwork and ‘creations’ that have been littering the kitchen table for weeks or months, returning phone calls, scheduling check ups, canceling appointments, arranging plant waterers, buying swimsuits and hats and sunscreen… This manic productivity can be wonderful but it is yet another way that I stress myself out about going on vacation.

So finally you arrive and get settled and have some fun. That is IF you don’t put too much pressure on yourself, your spouse, and your children to make the most of the precious time together and the beauty of the place and the opportunities to do new things and the kindness of your host and the great restaurants and the weather… Sometimes I make myself and those around me totally crazy trying too hard to have a good time. It can be exhausting. And stressful. And rather ridiculous.

But if I can let go of my expectations of a perfect week together, we usually do have fun. In spite of ourselves! You’d think I would have learnt my lesson by now, but I keep getting wrapped up in the visions in my mind – visions in which the four of us play together and adventure together and cook together and everyone sleeps peacefully at the end of a busy fun-filled day…  But the reality is that I have two demanding kids with different needs and abilities, a husband who has his own plans for the holiday (and occasional unpredictable work demands), and often friends or family to consider as well, not to mention my own need for a break! None of the things I am imagining happen in real life, so why would they happen when we are away from home?!

What makes vacations special is also what makes them hard – we all have lots of time on our hands, each of us have different aspirations, we find ourselves in new and unfamiliar places (and for some reason often uncomfortable beds), we have no daily routines or rhythms to guide us. We are free! It is exhilarating and terrifying. We have to make our plans day by day, getting into a new rhythm where schedules don’t matter and where we work as a team. This notion of being a team is one of our big challenges right now, since 2 year olds can’t ski all day, 6 year olds can’t sit still, and dads who work too hard like to play too hard, while tired moms just want to go to the spa… So there is a lot of negotiating to be done on holiday. And a lot of talking about plans at night, only to find the weather next morning won’t allow that picnic or the little one is tired and cranky and won’t get dressed, much less go hiking.

We haven’t quite figured out a ‘vacation formula’ that works for our family. Is it beach or mountains, near or far, many people or few, long or short, busy or quiet, planned or spontaneous…? And of course when we do figure out the formula, it will be irrelevant, because everything will have changed yet again. So we just muddle along, having some great days, and some horrid days, traveling to some old favorite spots and venturing to some new ones. Somehow we find the courage to keep traveling. In spite of all the work of making family holidays happen, I am happy we get to share new places and new adventures as a family. I love that we keep adding to our stories and memories. I think it does us all good, even if it doesn’t go quite the way any of us imagined or hoped or planned it would. Along the way we’ve learned a lot, seen a lot, grown a lot (in many ways), talked a lot, made friends, taken photos – both beautiful and silly, cried, laughed, explored, napped, read, played, and opened our minds… It could certainly be worse.