Tag Archives: parenthood

The Never-Ending Sex Talk

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During lunch this week Miles threw out, “Mama, how did you made me?” This question came after a morning of typical activities three year olds and six year olds do while inside. They played in boxes, battled with light sabers, hurt each other with them, cried and screamed, listened to books, and made a million silly noises. Nothing super serious. Even the books were Dr. Seuss. The question felt very out of the blue. For goodness sake, he just turned three.

As you might already know, we are very open about bodies in our household. I was able to tell Miles, without hesitation, “Mama and Papa made you.” I greatly prefer this response to “God made you” for a variety of reasons, but mainly because I’m not trying to dodge the knitty-gritty of it all. This isn’t an existential conversation. Those will come later. Then, get this. In the sweetest voice ever he said, “Thank you for making me.” (He does this. He thanks people all the time for things they did for him, often for events that occurred weeks prior. It is an amazingly charming quality.) Someday he’ll probably know that we debated long and hard about a second child. His comment felt more touching to me because of that bit of our history.

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Next Miles asked how we were able to keep his head on. Then how we put his skin on. I adore him so much I could eat him up. His curiosity is going to serve him very well. Anyways, I gave him a brief, “Oh, we didn’t do that, it all happened inside my belly.” I didn’t even dawn on me in the moment that he was probably thinking we put him together like Legos.

Charlie quickly piped in, “Miles, you were as small as a tadpole! And you had a tail. But the tail popped off! And you had these funny eyes. But maybe that was just the book. And then you got bigger and bigger and bigger! And then mama was pregnant and she had to go to the hospital to have you. Then you were born!” We might have a little reviewing to do to fill in some gaps for Charlie. But he definitely knows about sperm! Clearly, this education is a long-term commitment. Hopefully the continued discussions will help minimize shame and stigma.

Not too long ago Miles went through a phase of asking me repeatedly if I had a penis. I’d go through the routine: “Nope. I don’t have a penis. Boys and men have penises. Girls and women have vaginas.” He’s asked his grandparents. He’s asked some of my friends. And I’m pretty sure every time he sees me naked he’s looking to see if I have grown one overnight. Once after asking me, he beat me to the response and said, “You have a fonus!” Then he totally giggled.

Most of this open labeling of bodies and bodily functions has led to really hilarious, wonderful interactions, winning me over despite my initial hesitations. I wasn’t thrilled the first time I had to explain menstruation because they walked in on me in the bathroom and saw blood. That’s an awkward situation, especially when your pants are down. The openness can be embarrassing in public, too. Like when I was in a busy, downtown bathroom and Miles was loudly asking “What’s that? What’s in your underwear? But why? Why is there blood? Do you have an owie?” But, I swallowed my pride a bit and we got over that hurdle. I’m so glad we’re opening the lines of communication with them this young. I can’t imagine how heightened the embarrassment must get when kids are older. FOR US! Probably them, too.

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A Brené Brown Line-Up

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It isn’t news that I am a huge Brené Brown fan. I have mentioned the influence her books and talks have had on me in previous posts. I regularly talk about her work with friends. Today, one of those friends let me know she’d never heard of Dr. Brown until me and wanted to know more about her. I told her I’d make it easier on her, and whoever else here is interested, to see this amazing woman in action. Now you can test drive her content before you read one of her books. Without even having to google.

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Dr. Brown’s jump to notoriety came after her TEDx Houston talk on vulnerability became incredibly popular. A few years later she presented at the (big) TED conference on shame. You can see both on her website or here. (Watch them in the order they were presented.)

Dr. Brown recently spoke with Oprah on Super Soul Sunday, which happens to be free online. Yay! I watched both episodes this week and continue to ruminate on many of her words. I will probably watch them again. Even though I’ve read her books, something about hearing her words and listening to Oprah process it all that made it hit me harder.

Her first episode is here. The second is here. (Apparently they ended up having her stay longer to do a second because she was just that good!)

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After you watched these, or have read her books or blog posts, I’d love to know what you’re contemplating. I’ll start:

1) I am really concerned about shame in schools. Kids do not need to be singled out by teachers to “learn their lesson.” I believe this deep in my core. There are much better and more effective ways for kids to learn. I can understand how and why it happens. As a parent, I have traveled that road a few times. Thankfully, it is upsetting to me when I do and I usually take time to reflect. Why would I made the choice to shame my child, instead of really understand and come alongside him? Often, it’s my own fear that triggers that desire in me. I imagine it might be the same for teachers. They could be afraid of losing control of their classroom, of a kid not achieving the necessary scores for that teacher to be considered “successful” (which is a different and very important problem!), of parents not being pleased with how behavior was handled, etc… I understand there are reasons, but there are alternative solutions and our kids deserve better. They deserve respect. They deserve nurturing.

I’m thinking of gifting Daring Greatly to my son’s elementary school so more teachers will have opportunity to read it. But that’s just one school and a few teachers. This needs to be a national conversation. Parents are a pretty amazing force for change, so I’m praying this becomes a movement. I hope that as education regarding the problem increases, tolerance for shaming disciplinary tactics will decrease.

2) I am growing more aware about what vulnerability armor I wear and when I put it on. This has been a pretty difficult process for me but I’m seeing progress in how I respond to challenging situations. I’m improving in my ability to take feedback constructively, not personally. I’m quicker to identify when I’m making choices because I’m anxious or fearful. These are good and important steps for me.

3) Gratitude. The biggest “aha” moment I had after soaking in the Oprah shows was that I need to be more active in practicing gratitude. I want to know deep joy. I want my children to experience joy. I find it incredibly powerful, and empowering, that this is a choice, not a personality trait. We choose joy by building in habits of gratitude. Not just the big things, the little details. Writing them down, speaking them, thinking them, pondering them. Breathing gratitude.

Seattle spring blossoms

This week I am thankful for the beautiful cherry blossoms decorating our streets, for the yellows of the daffodils and the pinks and purples of the hyacinths. All bring relief to winter’s gray. I am thankful for a string of great books after a winter of many disappointments. I am thankful that my boys are digging in the dirt, making mud pies all around our yard. I am thankful that peas will get planted this weekend. I am thankful that my brother’s ship is at port and I’ll get to share a meal or two with him. I am thankful for raw oysters. The really briny ones. (Seriously. When my brother comes to town this is almost always my second thought.) I am thankful.

Choosing Space

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Happy New Year. 2013 or 2014, depending on whether you round up or round down. And hello again! It’s been awhile. There were the usual holiday factors. There was a really amazing family vacation in sunny, warm Florida to visit my mother-in-law. We met Spiderman. And Buzz Lightyear.  There was an awful two weeks in January experiencing Norovirus. (The only time I left our house the first week was to rent a carpet cleaner. Our rental carpets are already covered in stains, so paying for that lets you know just how grim it was. Anyways, that’s the only time I put on a bra. In an act of grace I was the only one to escape this horrific virus, but I kept a bowl by my bed for a full week after symptoms subsided because I felt like I was going to jinx myself if I took it away.) There was a birthday party for my favorite six year old. We had family in town and a fabulous party to celebrate him. There was the departure of our regular babysitter, the provider of my few hours of freedom each week. There were tears. A lot. This week we’ve been shut in with illness, too. I can’t wait for summer.

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It is times of illness, when I’m tired, stressed and worried, but unable to leave the house to exercise or get a break from it all, that I realize how thin a mental health line I’m still walking. The Norovirus weeks were a painfully sharp contrast to our vacation time. Christmas was my first break from homeschooling and I couldn’t believe how much easier life became. There was still plenty of learning going on, but none of it needed to come from curriculum or be reported. I spent a lot more time playing with the boys. Then, BOOM! jump back into schoolwork and WHAM! get hit by a nasty virus and BAM! babysitter quits. I wasn’t ready for it.

The patterns over the past few months quite clearly declare that I need more space. A friend lovingly reminded me that in the past six years I’ve been caregiving 24/7, chronically deprived of sleep half that time, endured multiple unemployment periods, moved four times, and dealt with other relational stress without a regular break. Just this past fall I started getting two hours alone. Glorious! With our babysitter’s departure, that ended. Extra salt in the wound came when Charlie turning six meant he couldn’t be in our closest gym’s childcare.

Charlie turns six

My challenges this year have reinforced how important taking care of myself is, and with the wisdom of others speaking truth and grace into this situation, I’m actually learning how to implement this. Sometimes even without any guilt. Brene Brown’s chapter about parenting in Daring Greatly continues to deeply nurture me. (I have my own copy that I can mark up. Yay!) She quotes Joseph Chilton Pearce saying, “What we are teaches the child more than what we say, so we must be what we want our children to become.” She goes on to write, “Even though the vulnerability of parenting is terrifying at times, we can’t afford to armor ourselves against it or push it away–it is our richest, most fertile ground for teaching and cultivating connection, meaning, and love.” These ideas are helping me learn to let go of what I see as ideal for my children, even requiring me to give up something very precious, so that I can learn to live more wholeheartedly.

I’m taking extra measures to be more generous to myself. I signed up for a mini triathlon because they’re super fun (seriously!) and they force me to exercise regularly. I used to think I was above needing accountability like that, but I’m not. Only when I’m signed up for races do I choose to exercise as regularly as I need. That extra motivation gets us all out the door, past the environmental-guilt-screams in my head about driving farther than I’d wish to get to the gym, and past the mommy-guilt-screams that more time at gym childcare is bad for the boys. (Which is just ridiculous because they love it. But the guilt is there nonetheless.) Exercise is my good attitude medication. When I don’t do it, life is noticeably less fun.

Charlie meets Spidey

We registered Charlie for public school first grade and Miles for preschool two mornings. First, Miles will be three. The year of irrational expectations. I kept envisioning next year’s homeschooling scene and it wasn’t pretty. Of course I have major reservations about public school: huge classes, ridiculous mandated tests, often poor curriculum choices, minimal arts offerings, discouraging playground situations, etc… I am very sad that he won’t get chances to ask questions often. Also, I still believe the best learning is individualized, experiential, passion-driven and involves a lot of play. If Charlie has tons of busywork homework, I will probably encourage him to not do it. Our Kindergarten experience has been a really special time for Charlie and I to connect, create and explore together. I will miss laughing about lizards detaching tails and complementing each other’s artwork. Plus, he’s over the moon about his theatre program. So, even though public school gives me space, it’s also a huge sacrifice. If I’m feeling up for it in future years, I imagine we’ll return to homeschooling.

For now, I need more space.

I’m taking this step because I am worth it. In the past, this has been a really hard thing for me to believe and live out. I’m pretty sure I come from a long line of martyrs and being female doesn’t help anything either.

“Somewhere buried deep inside our hopes and fears for our children is the terrifying truth that there is no such thing as perfect parenting and there are no guarantees. From debates about attachment parenting to how much better they parent in Europe to disparagement of “tiger moms” and helicopter parents, the heated discussions that occupy much of the national parenting conversation conveniently distract us from this important and difficult truth: Who we are and how we engage with the world are much stronger predictors of how our children will do than what we know about parenting.”–Brene Brown, Daring Greatly

How many times can I tell myself this? The best thing I can do for myself, my husband and my boys is take care of myself. If I am thriving, so will my children. Even more important than being with them a lot is being present. This year, taking care of myself is even more important than homeschooling. Sometimes good is good enough. Maybe even best.

Spidey on the TumblTrak

A Hiatus to Grieve

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Even though my first post was just a few months ago, I began the process of writing this blog five years ago. Truly. Since becoming a mom I’ve pondered sharing how my professional training in speech-language pathology has enhanced my experience of motherhood. I’ve probably drafted fifty posts in my brain. I’ve discussed it a bazillion times (I think my oldest considers this a real number) with my very patient husband and close friends. It just took me ridiculously long to get over my hurdles of perfectionism, anxiety and self-doubt and take the giant leap.

My primary hope for this blog is that it brings anyone who interacts with children on a regular basis more pleasure in that experience, as well as helping build a better relationship for the dyad through opening up the communication pathways. I hope to relieve some of the stress by providing a few strategies that help with communication struggles. I’d be thrilled if storytimes transformed from a struggle to a joy. Same with mealtimes. Basically, it boils down to this: I know how incredibly hard caring for children day in and day out can be and I am hoping to lighten the load.

My goal is to post weekly but I don’t want to be a slave to the blog and start posting inane contributions just to keep it going. I value your time. I value my time. But, I do feel that pressure. So, the fact that I haven’t posted in several weeks stresses me out a bit.

It’s not that I haven’t written. I have actually spent hours writing. Most of that time was spent angrily venting my thoughts after the Aurora shooting. Coming so close on the heels of the Seattle shootings (Cafe Racer is close to our house and the other spot downtown was close to where Miles and I were at the time), and being in my homestate near the homes of several college friends’ parents, I felt this deeply. I dropped more than a few f-bombs and sat on it for a week, realizing this is not the place for that. There are many excellent journalists who have shared my viewpoint far more articulately with much better research. So, I took action instead- signed a few petitions and emailed legislators.

But even prior to the shootings I was questioning aspects of this blog and feeling hesitant to write. A friend of mine, whom I deeply care about and respect, wrote this about parenting advice. I completely agree with her point about grieving and it was something I needed to read at just that time. I was wrapping up several weeks of dealing with increased anger and impatience towards the boys and Harry, unable to pinpoint why. Her post encouraged me to sit with it a bit and I ended up balling in Harry’s arms a few days later, crying about a variety of things I’d bottled up for far too long. But I needed to think awhile about the rest of her post and why I was hit so hard by it that I didn’t want to post here.

Basically, the last thing I want to do is make “parents everywhere feel like shit.” I know the judgment facing parents.I have sat in that boat, wondering why someone would act a certain way or horrified by a parents’ harsh words towards their kid, and considered that adult less because of it. Now, on my better days, I still think those thoughts but it’s tempered with more grace, compassion and understanding. I realize that I have no idea why someone might be acting that way. Given how much privilege I’ve experienced, chances are their life is much, much harder than mine. I also know that I don’t even come close to knowing it all. There are so many aspects of parenthood that are so ridiculously hard, to think that we have all the answers would be idiotic. Lastly, I am deeply aware of how lost sleep can turn a well-meaning loving mom into a mean ogre. After having Miles, particularly in the first year(s) when we were incredibly sleep deprived, I became the craziest looney on the block. Dr. Harvey did not help me. I was losing my marbles. I was really quick to anger with Charlie, who was at that lovely irrational age of 3.5. I was haunted by all the advice against letting younger babies cry but knew how desperately we needed to be sane. But I could only talk with a few very trusted people about it because of fear of judgment.

So, today’s post is simply to ask that you help keep me in line. If you’re feeling judged or inadequate because of something I write, please let me know. I do not want to go there. My desire is to be a place of inspiration. If you need encouragement in communicating with your little one in a certain way, please let me know. I might have some ideas that may help. This is not to say that I don’t have strong opinions about issues. I do. Oh, yes I do. But, my hope is that you’ll know when my opinions and advice are perfect for you and when you can leave them behind. Or maybe you just need to chew on things for a little bit and re-evaluate later.

In the meantime, I am taking my friend’s advice (I see the irony) to continue grieving while disregarding her advice to not take advice (and in my case, share it). My comment on her blog included this: 

 I really agree with the spirit of this- a parent’s healing needs to be a progression and grieving happens as a life-long process. One thing I notice about parenthood is that my grief, as it comes in waves, absolutely (deeply!) impacts my parenting style. My anger can surprise me with how quickly it will swell and then be directed at my kids. This shock sends me reeling to my books or favorite articles for reminders and ideas that get me through until I’ve had the time and space to properly understand the trigger. Parenthood just doesn’t allow the luxury to reflect during a moment. Those tips can help buy time.
I feel like I am a pretty good judge of what to take or leave. Some of it is crap. Some is fantastic. Some is neither here nor there. As far as development stuff goes (like language), I love learning about child development. My degree in speech-language pathology has made parenting much more FUN. Understanding development better has made my experience much richer. I know how to meet my boys at their level. I can connect much better with them. I wouldn’t have this without a stronger knowledge base. It’s 100% enrichment.
There’s definitely a difference between knowledge and advice. Knowledge allows a place of empowerment from which one can grow and flex along with the relationship’s journey. Advice will sometimes be more rigid and wrong for some, and sometimes be just fine.

I am remembering my own issues and talking more about them, instead of shoving them aside. I am taking steps to care for myself better. I am reading the stories about the theatre victims with amazement at those people who acted out of tremendous love and courage that night. I am reading the stories about Seattle’s Cafe Racer reopening, with the owner embracing a commitment to continued community for that spot. I am smiling and saying hi to the people I pass because it’s a lonely, lonely world sometimes. I am chasing my children around the house while wearing a colander on my head because we all need a laugh. I am letting Miles harvest carrots that are one inch long because he thinks it’s fun and it helps me hold my garden more open-handedly. I am inviting people into my home even though the toilets might be gross and the kitchen floor hasn’t been mopped since June. I am going to keep writing. I don’t want my anxiety of potentially offending someone to stop me from sparking any good that might come from sharing ideas. And I’m thinking about the next nugget of knowledge I’ll share with you.