Breaking Daylight

See Me As I Am

.. A gift really not everyone get’s to have me, this one unique human requiring only your love

.. Separate from you, yes in most cases I came through you but I am my own self. Full of my own desires, thoughts and opinions. Wanting to stretch and explore beside you but not as you.

.. Impressionable. Your words land on me and inform me about myself. They tell me what I might not know yet and could forever change how I view me. It matters what you say to me, it will inform much of what I know, in the beginning. So choose kindly.

.. Unconditional love. I give it freely, to you, from the beginning, let’s work to keep it just like that until the end.

.. Tender and strong at the very same time. I take your words and actions in to my tender self and feel them strongly. Remember this when deciding how to speak and be with me.

.. Breakable. My spirit is a strong but like my bones when twisted, harshly, it can break. Hold me kindly with love.

.. A Dreamer. And right now I know I can be all that I dream. Come along and believe in me.

.. A reminder, of your unique, separate, impressionable, unconditional loving, tender, strong, breakable, dreamer self.

No matter how desperately I try to hold on to my children, time is going to grow them up, faster then I would agree to. So I am glad I noticed early on that this phase, where they are with me day to day, is a small fraction of the life I will live.

I am glad I noticed that spending time with them, lots of it, was a super good use of my resources and that I stopped to smell the tulips.

I am glad I noticed, playing with my children was an investment in a bank that would always multiply tenfold what I put in.

I am glad I noticed that cleaning vomit off my carpeted bedroom floor could wait when little ones needed a body to hold on to.

I am glad I noticed that words hold power and so used them softly and peacefully.

I am glad I said yes, more then I said no.

I am glad I knew to pay attention, to the tiny things, that can be used to lift a dreary day and then used them over and over again.

This is the sort of list I could write on about for hours. What I want to say mostly, is that I am glad I noticed    this gift of motherhood and celebrated it loudly.

I remember when the boys were younger and we would visit museums. They would race through. Looking at a few things. Reading next to nothing and with rarely a question. I was irritated. I thought they should stop and see it all. Thankfully I remembered being a child and being fully annoyed at how long it took my dad, who stopped to read every last sign to get out of the museum. So I took a deep breath and kept my agenda to myself. We spent much time returning to familiar museums and I followed their interests and breathed through the release of my agenda and thoughts on what learning ought to be happening.

Yesterday we went to the California Academy of Sciences for a second time. We hit the favorite spots. This time slowly. I was asked to read signs. Every case needed to be examined. Questions were posed, answered and some times just wondered about. One boy stopped to listen to a discussion about the giant pendulum. While I followed the other to engage in a trivia game. We all sat through a delightful presentation on the diversity of Africa. I stopped to recognize, they were now more like I had wanted them to be in the early days. And I breathed a sigh of gratitude that I had forever followed their interests instead of enforcing my agenda. It has provided them a lifetime of curiosity for that which sparks their mind.

It’s been a tragic week in the news. The sort that can make a person wonder what the heck is going on in the world. It is likely true that if I watched more international news every week would be full of heartbreak. It get’s me to thinking and posting things like “It’s a tough world our there we need to love each other better.”

It can be easy to fall in to the commonly held belief that the role of a parent is to prepare our children for the real world, the adult life that they will inevitably enter. And that achieving this is done through setting up adult like lives for them, making sure they know how to wake up early, eat the “right” foods and delay all sorts of gratification. I challenge this with a whole different perspective. The one gift I can offer to my children to carry them through each and every transition in their lives is, unconditional love. I can hand it to them everyday, after every angry out burst and in the heartbroken moments of mistakes well made. This is the one and only tool I believe that will lift them through the heart broken world that often lives outside our front door.

When my child knows my wide open and loving arms are always here to catch them, they are more willing to boldly take on life. To head out and take chances, make big messy mistakes and when necessary retreat in to the comfort of us, their family, to heal and strengthen in order to stretch out again. This foundation of unconditional love is the place where my child grows a deep sense of self worth, a knowing that they matter and are truly worthy of love.

When a childhood is full of play, love of the unconditional and radical self acceptance inevitably a courageous, confident and kind adult will emerge. This I trust to be truth. So when the world outside our home goes all crazy and unpredictable, I hold tightly this knowing, that the gift of unconditional love I give to my children is the first step in creating a more peaceful world.

In the rush of life it is easy for me to brush aside conversation with my children with a polite nod and a casual “wow cool.” The bits and pieces of information falling to prey to the much louder adult chatter that relentlessly invades my mind. Recently, I have been focused on dropping into those conversations with a fuller presence and it’s never once come close to being a waist of time.

Did you know that there is a group of University students who have designed a solution to help penguins who’s feet are sore from walking around, was the intro to a truly fascinating conversation with my oldest son (if you want to know more about the topic you can check it out here). He told me a delightful recap of a news story he had caught while watching TV with his dad. Things, without his sharing, I would not have known. I listened with my full attention (not the distracted one I’ve been guilty of using) and I learned something brand new to me. I remembered to keep any judgments on his recall of info. tucked away in my own mind. He was the storyteller I was his audience and the energy between us was a gift. His conclusion “this just shows you when you ask younger people to figure out a problem they think up way more things then old people would.” Which lead us on to a whole new conversation about thinking outside of the box and how one can keep that ability far beyond their youth. These are the conversations I wish I had recorded to listen to him, as expert, sharing with me things I otherwise would not have known.

We all watched a television program together this week. It wasn’t one of usual shows. My husband and I were tossing around our strongly formed opinions about what we had seen. The boys were sitting watching with the same back and forth attention one would a tennis match. As my husband exited the room I turned to the couch and said, “what did you guys thinks of the show.” I was in all honestly expecting a replay of what dad and I had just hashed out. Instead my son shared parts of the show he had picked up on that flew right off my radar and made me stop and rethink my entire take on things. His brother chimed in extending the point with is own observations. Smacked me upside the head with the obvious but often missed fact that they had were watching this program through their very own unique to them frame of reference (that exists outside of mine) and had caught some points that spoke to their individual experiences in the world. Simple yes, mind blowing, yes as well. In the moment it took to ask and listen my sons’ experiences were validated and my mind was shifted.

It was snuggle time. I had my oldest all to myself. The conversation began lightly, “if we were stuck in the middle of the ocean and all we had was this bed what would you do to stay alive?” he asked. It was innocent and we had some great laughs along the way as we talked about the removal of bodily fluids, the capture of food and so on.  As conversations do it took some pretty dramatic turns and before I could prepare myself we were talking about things that make my son visibly squirm (all my squirming is done on the inside where I have to remind myself talking about sex is a healthy part of raising a child when what I really want to do is plug my ears and scream I can’t hear you). The conversation went off the rails and I knew I had to follow up the next morning with information that would fill in the blank spaces left the night before. The details aren’t necessary to share the point. I went to him and we talked about the stuff you talk about when your child is trying to figure out how one moves from being a child to being someone who would want to romantically kiss another human being. At the end he said “mom I am glad you aren’t one of those parents who lies about this stuff.” Phew. Our conversation though interrupted, somewhat awkward was a place of connection and safety for him and that is why I value it so.

My youngest son likes to chat more then my oldest.  In fact it has become an indicator for us of when he transitions from knowing a person to truly loving them. He moves from silence to non stop chatter! It is easy to forget that what he is saying holds great importance to him and his way of showing the deeper parts of who he is. When I forget to stop and listen, I miss out on truly seeing who he is in the world. His mind is full of new ideas and insights.  When we went to park at a structure near our home he explained to me the entire parking light system the garage has in place. I had not even noticed the lights before. Above each stall is a light, with different colors to explain what is happening in the parking stall.  “It’s green when it’s empty, red when it’s full and blue is for the handicapped spots.”  I was blown away that he had noticed all of this going on around him, that clearly I was not paying attention to. So yes, he did share with me important information that I was missing in my rushed way of going about life. But what the real gem was is that he shared with me a look in to how he sees the world around him. When I listened to him, I saw his brain and how it processes bits of information as they come in. He filters them, plays with them and reaches a richer understanding of how things work. By taking a moment to engage with him I walked away knowing him even better then I had just minutes before. Oh how sad it would have been to have missed out on knowing this.

This is the art in conversation. The canvas my children paint for me that celebrates not only who they are but how they are in the world. These moments aren’t as permanent as a piece of artwork, which means the greater value lies in being present to capture them.

I said to my husband this week, “at my funeral I want you to say she always cleaned the vomit.” It’s a true statement, no one else in the house can do it without gagging and adding to the mess. So I am the one that cleans the vomit, the pee stains and anything else that looks funky or disgusting. I have a strong stomach.

He looked at me a bit sideways. And I assured him I was serious about having that said about me. I imagine it will grab a laugh or two during an somewhat somber event. But what it really represents is the truth that each day we are living our obituaries our eulogies and it’s a good idea to stop from time to time and consider that.

The world around me sends constant messages about how I should be living my life. Acquiring a list of possessions, certificates, awards and other shiny objects to define my merit. Most of that doesn’t sit right with me. So I have started paying attention to the sorts of things I would like said about me or perhaps more specifically the things I am looking to leave behind when my time here runs out.

This is how I came to insist vomit cleaner be  atop my list. Other things I am hopeful will make it there do include butt wiping and snot removal. Early on in our marriage it became clear that if it was gross and potentially gag inducing I was gonna have to step up to the plate. So it is with pride that I live this one life I have yielding my iron stomach against the bodily fluids ejected from my children’s bodies. Strip it all down and it really means I was present for the moments when the world got topsy turvy to rub some backs and whisper gentle reminders.

I also hope someone will talk about my cooking. Not just the good stuff I made but the times when my gluten free cooking failed to the level of sawdust.  I am currently the resident chef. I cook all sorts of different things to please the picky palettes of the folks in this house. Many of my meals are scrumptious. And sometimes I throw most of it down the garbage disposal. But the whole picture is a reminder that I am up for the sorts of adventures in cooking that may bring a smile to the table or a loud bought of laughter. Either way, I cook to feed my family’s very specific, personalized needs with each meal cause I love them for those very things.

Oh and I do hope someone steps up and takes a second to comment on my dancing ability. Not cause I think I am some sort of super star. But because I want to be remembered as the person who was willing to bust out a dance anywhere, anytime.

Along those lines I do hope someone mentions how I sang. The other night my son and I went to a hockey game here in California. The visiting team was our favorite Canucks. This meant both national anthems would be sung. I belted out O Canada like nobodies business. And as I did I could feel my dad right beside me singing along. These are the sorts of gifts I am fixing to leave with my children when my physical self is gone.

I am choosing my words in ways that some of them will be left on the hearts of those I share life with. This is why I pick them with an extra breath or a moment of reflection. I read a quote once and I am not perfectly using it here, but the gist of it is, the words I use with my children today will become their inner voice. I want their inner voice to be soft and gentle, kind and compassionate. I want them to hear me this way for always. So I am, more times then not, using the sorts of words that reflect this.

My sense of humor. Not the stand up comedy stuff. But more the tripped on a hockey stick and fell on my face stuff. Evidence that I was willing to jump both feet in to life, even if the simple goal was to get a laugh or two from those around me. I want reflections of my life to include lots of laughter.

And beauty. Not the physical way that mainstream media portrays it. But in the moments where I stopped to point out the sunset or the fall colored leaves. I want to be seen in the moments that cause my child to exhale and drink in the beauty around them.

If these are the only things shared about me at my funeral, I will have lived a truly blessed life. At the same time, I am very much alive right now and remembering I am always in the process of living out my eulogy.

I believe in magic because I see it everyday. I knew from a young age that I wanted to, at that time, “work” with kids. They have a way in to the good things in life that I think adults have potentially lost contact with. I suspected keeping this alive in my own self would mean being close to the source. My youthful ignorance sent me to five years of University to obtain a Degree in Elementary Education. Shiny and new I struck out in to the world of education only to discover the magic wasn’t there. It was disillusioning. But there were moments that kept me walking forward. They were in the preschool classrooms and in the recreation settings where play was the goal. The magic lay in the play, something that quickly looses importance with in the high pressure setting of a classroom. Please don’t read this to mean teachers are without the desire to be light and joyful and create play based learning, I am certain many are. It’s the pressure of the system of adults that informs them that’s fractured and that’s the place where play falls through the cracks and clear out of the classroom.

Having my own children is where I learned magic can continue beyond the young years and clear through to adulthood. It is the play that keeps the magic alive. The play is the important piece of the puzzle. It is the serious work of being youthful. Surrounding myself with children through the years has not been about their youth necessarily, it’s been about their freedom to play. Play is how they bring a light, inquisitive nature to expanding their understanding of the world around them.

My oldest son, super in to hockey, asked me to build a fantasy hockey team with him. He had found out through playing video games, just how this process would unfold. We sat down together each building a team, while laughing, bartering and researching. His knowledge trumped mine in seriously ridiculous ways. Yet, through the magic of play I expanded quickly my understanding of the game of hockey, the importance of stats and who the characters where leading the way in this sport. It was light, it was fun and it was feeding my sense of curiosity in a way statistics never had before.

Later in the day, I was removing snap circuits from the carpet floor, placing them neatly back in to their box. Enter my youngest son, “oh good those are ready for me to play with.” He puts himself in front of the TV the instruction manual to his left and he begins to play. Within ten minutes enthusiastic shouts call me to his side. “I used part of the instructions and part of my own ideas to build this. It has a fan and two lights.” And then stumbles out an understanding of circuits, energy flow and design that is more accurate then I could teach in a well planned lesson. He is vibrating with excitement. He is in the magic as he plays his way in to a deeper understanding of science concepts. It’s contagious.

I have been know to admit to preferring the company of most children over their adult companions, simply because the conversation I can engage in capture this magic. They are rich in possibility, dripping with humor and most often reveling of unique personalities. So, I chat up the children in order to see them clearly in the world and understand how they keep tapped in to the magic some associate only with childhood.

I have a profound sense of gratitude for the fact that I can stay home and live each day alongside my children. I know this a gift that is not afforded to every family trying to make ends meet. What I do think is possible for every family, every parent and even every adult, is the ability to still believe in magic even when age defines you as an adult. And I am gonna give you some tips on how to do that.

First up, notice the children in the world around you. I don’t mean through adult trained eyes, I mean through your heart space. Notice how they travel from one location to the next, it’s likely not in a straight line and they likely seen something beautifully distracting. Pay attention to the details of how they interact with the entire world around them, all the bits and pieces. And once you think you have a sense of how this differs from your own travels, walk like a child.

Next up, talk to children in the same interested and engaging voice you would a co-worker giving you the details of your next important business thing a ma jig. Then listen. Not just with your ears with your open hearted genuinely interested self. Children are wildly willing to tell you about the most fascinating adventures they have been on recently and I bet many of them have just been to places you haven’t seen in a while. Then talk like a child, rich in detail, stretching possibility in all the right places.

Now you are ready to play with a child. Some may be able to jump in to this step without a child around. But many will need some serious instruction to remember how to do this task. The business of being an adult can strip of us this basic understanding. Abandon yourself to the play. Let the child be the director, the engineer, the true facilitator of your play session. Give yourself the time needed to fully fall in to the play, letting all your adult worries fall away.  Do this over and over again it might take some time to for your key to fit back in to the tickle trunk. And then make play a priority in your everyday way of being in the world.

I believe in magic cause I see it everyday. I promise you can too.

Recently I have received some small and some super heart breaking reminders that this business of waiting for the perfect moment may simply end up robbing me possibility.

There is an empty lot that the boys and I pass every time we head to the hockey rink. It is unusual to find  empty space around these parts. Folks are piled up on top of each other, developing every inch of land. But this one spot, has only a sign that reads private property. For months now a beautiful weed spattered with yellow flowers has been growing taller and taller. Every time I drive by I imagine a photo shoot. One where my boys are spaced throughout the flowers, with only their heads visible. Or different angles with the camera placed deep in the field. And then last week I drove by and saw a lawn mower being pushed to the end of the property. The beautiful two foot high flowering weeds were gone. I might have cried.  I waited too long.

My Aunt died in November. When I knew she was dying I thought to write her a letter as I knew I couldn’t make the trek to visit her before her life we end. I waited because I was nervous that sending such a letter would be upsetting. Then one day I thought it would be upsetting to me for her not to know the things I loved about her and the places she touched my life. So I wrote the letter. I imagined she had received it. This week I opened my mailbox to see a letter with her name on it. It  took my a back. On closer examination I saw a return to sender label slapped on the bottom of the letter. She never got my words. I waited too long.

There is no time for waiting. Time is passing right now. I gotta grab it or it will simply fall through my hands like sand in an hour glass, leaving behind only regret. When my stomach lurches and churns in the nausea inducing sort of way it is a sign that whatever is in front of me ought to be seized. Especially if it terrifies me. Cause I don’t want another person I love and adore to die without hearing the ways in which they have touched my life. Nor for another beautiful photo to exist only ever in my mind.

My desk has these two books for my reading Susan Jeffers, “Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway” and Pema Chodron’s, “The places that scare you.” The time is now to put down the fear and pick up the opportunities scattered throughout each moment.