I didn’t know

I feel like the post reads well out loud. I’ve provide both a read aloud and the audio. 

Before becoming a mother I was keenly aware that I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  My husband and I talked about what if’s and maybes without committing to much since we had never been parents before and no one was selling a blueprint. We listened to other people’s advice with the sort of glazed over eyes one gets when there are no hooks upon which to hang the well meaning advice. And though I walked in eyes wide open to the fact that I had no idea what was about to unfold, I am certain I was clueless to how wide spread and long lasting my wobbly legs of inexperience would last.

Of all the advice I was handed no one warned me that these human beings charged to my care would break my heart in ways I never knew existed before our eyes met  for the first time. Or that I would sit behind bathroom doors weeping over spilled milk in order to gather the strength to clean it up while keeping their fragile sense of well being well constructed. Because, especially in the beginning, their wide innocent eyes would always be looking into me for their own sense of self worth. And that while I was sleepless, unshowered and floundering in this new role, I would have to deconstruct everything I knew about myself to rise a better human being so that I might pass a piece of that on to this new person I’d give my own life for. Or that my insides would be a constant demolition site of building after building destroyed in the search of solid ground.

I wasn’t prepared for my heart to beat in the outside world with the most delicate protection pretending to guard it. As monsters and disasters formed around each corner proving my own inability to every keep it safe from what promised to hurt it. In the beginning I though this courage would grow alongside their own independence. That some how my heart might find it’s way back inside the walls of my chest where the sturdy ribs would once again protect it. This was untrue. My courage is just as wobbly today though my delivery of belief in them has gotten better at masking the quiver in the words I share to support their wild adventuring.

I mistakenly thought my competence would grow alongside the years of practice being a parent. It might be the most humbling lesson of them all to realize just when I chomp down on my own sense of confidence life saddles up with a slap to the face that reminds me just how temporary it all truly is. Falling to my knees in near despair I see the sliver of hope that pulls me back. The temporariness of it all is the true beauty. It promises me a chance to choose over and over again just how I will show up. One moment does not guarantee the next and that is where I can pick up my own misplaced pieces and set them right in the eyes of these tender human beings.

I didn’t know I was capable of a love more fierce than exploding volcanos and tsunamis. Or that I would be able to use that love to send messages of worth deep into another human being simply by sitting side by side in the hard places of being a human being. Also that that love would be the reassurance we each fell back on over and over again when we misstepped along the mine field of living a fully emotional life with one another. And that this love would be loud, quiet, unpredictable, ever growing but most importantly always constant. Before their arrival I was under the impression that love was conditional. But this fierce love is mine to give them over and over again no matter what falls in the space between,  how deep the divide becomes or high the mountain, the love always arrives.

 

 

 

Gather the love

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As we sat watching hockey last night and discussing family travel plans, I said to my first born son “Oh that will fall on your birthday.” To which he responded “and then I’ll be 15.” It took the breath clear out of me.  I know how old he is right now. I know how old he will be on his next birthday. But the speed of time and what it all means just winded me. Here is this human being who I have focussed the majority of my time and energy on reaching the sorts of ages and milestones where launching out in the the world is a very really before I know it thing.

The panic spread quickly from the pit of my stomach, to my throat and into my brain. That magical machine that does it’s best to send me into a whirlwind of self doubt. The dialogue sounded something like this “Have I done enough? Will he ever call when he leaves? did I break him? Of course you broke him. Should he have gone to school? Will he be able to do al the things he wants? Did I screw it all up?” And on and on and on.

Breath in. Breath out. Connect to something right now. Looking out from my panic stricken mind, I saw my fourteen year old son bouncing on a yoga ball while encouraging his favorite hockey team to put the puck in the net. His dad sat behind him and I to his side watching hockey together. This was all that was true. This which I could see. The rest was story old old story threatening to pull me into an imaginary world with a viewing audience of one. In the true right now all is awesome.

I can easily slip into a world of worry. It’s hard wired in my DNA. What I am working to remind myself each day, is that I can just as easily slip into the right now moment. The skill that works well for me is to take a breath and look around for something concrete in the environment. To really see it. Replacing future fears with a description of what is happening before my eyes. It’s not always pretty but it is tangible and full of choice. Choice about how I will react. Choice about what I will say. Choice about how I will remember. Choice between fear and love. This ability to drop into what I can describe in front of my eyes kicks in the unconditional love that has always flowed from me and pushes fear to the sidelines. Even if the fear stays, it’s on the sidelines and not running the show.

It’s true that no matter what I do my children will be a moment closer to launching in to the world with each click of the clock, whether I am paying attention or not. The holding on, the pausing of time, comes with the ability to see it all happen. To take that extra breath that pulls me out of fear and into the presence of love. Because as I have said before it is the love that matters most of all. The love that will be our forever bond. The love that will last beyond our years together. It’s up to me in each moment to choose love over fear in order to gather the most of this journey as a mother.

It’s time to lead

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When Barak Obama was elected President in 2008 I stood in my living room with the boys and watched history being made. And I made the dangerous assumption that this was a signal that clearly racism was no longer a part of the world at all.  It’s also true that in the moment because of where I had lived for my entire lifetime I had no idea about racism to begin with. It’s likely what helped me to make the sort of ignorant leap that I did that day, that things were over with. It was what let me with all my white skin not have to worry about that anymore.

Now after living in California for six years, I have had the wool pulled clear off of my eyes. Through the people I have met, the stories I have heard and what I have witnessed myself I have come to understand a completely different story. Please don’t get me wrong, I am quite juvenile in my understanding at this point. I am still undoing my own misunderstandings, seeing how ignorance has wound it’s way into my own thinking, my own actions and reactions and how privilege can put on some serious blinders. I am no where near expert on this topic, no where near, I have much work to do to learn and grown and understand. I do feel like I am awake now. And I can’t be that woman who stood in her living room that night and believed race issues where behind us. Because I have two human beings watching me closely, for some guidance in how to be in the world.

Two nights ago when a whole different kind of election result rolled in, these two human beings were still watching me.  I had said from the comfort of my privilege more than once that if Donald Trump was elected I would flee the country and head back to my homeland. I said it with the kind of certainty that comes from knowing I would never have to follow through on that action. The media, my husband, all my FB friends convinced me into believing that this would NEVER happen. And so I could toss about threats like that. I could sit back in my comfort zone of “I’m not allowed to vote here,” and hide out waiting for the election to be over already.  But then it began to happen. And while I drove with my youngest son having an anxiety attack in the back seat about Donald Trump becoming president something broke inside of me. I don’t even know if broke is the right word. Something inside of me shattered. And my own ignorance poured out in front of me.  I knew I had to do better by my children. I had to step up and be a leader for them.

My journey as a mother has been committed to being the parent they need me to be. Looking to them for guidance as to what stories I need to rewrite so I can continue to show up with love and connection. For building them up so that they have the tools to go out into the world and make it a better place. I have used a lot of words along the way and some action for sure but in this moment of election results that shook a nation to it’s core, I realized I had a lot more work to do. It was time for my actions to speak louder than my words. So when my son asked me “are we moving back to Canada mom?” with both worry and confusion in his voice I explained, “I never should have said that. It was a selfish thing to say. I think the best thing we can do is stay here and work hard to help our friends who have ever right to be afraid. We are safe. We will continue to be safe under this new leadership. But I’m not confidant that is true for all the people we live alongside. So let’s find out how we can help.” I will be honest, I was surprised by how relieved he was with this answer.

In this unthinkable moment, I knew I had to step up and be a leader for my children.  At a time when a country was electing someone who had, in the kindest description, been a bully and rewarded for it, I needed to show them a different sort of leadership.  If my hope was for them to stand up for their friends in the face of adversity I was going to have to give them some examples of what that looked like. If I was going to hope that they would use their privilege to help others in life, I was going to have give them some concrete examples of what that looked like. Because it is true that my sons see what is wrong with the election results. They understand how woman have to work harder in this world. They have a solid knowledge base but I’m not sure they know what to do with all of that.

This was my lesson. To see that my words to date have served well but they are no longer enough. My sons are getting older. They need me to show them how to stand strong in the face of adversity. They need to know what action looks like when you stand up and use your voice to help those who have lost their’s. And that doesn’t come from packing up all your belongings and running  away to keep your own self righteousness intact. It means standing boots on the ground and saying “I will fight for your rights, with all the privilege I have.” I don’t think there has been a moment in my life where I have felt so called to action, to be the leader for my children, in how to make the world a safe place for all the people. I know things now that I can’t un-know. And turning away feels like the action of a coward. I want courage for my children, for all the life ahead of them. So I put that courage in my own hands right now and lead them.

I am far from having all the answers of what that will look like in the coming weeks, months and years. I do know it starts now with small acts, each day, that they can witness in me. Yesterday, it looked like walking to neighbors homes who we had not spoken to in the three years of living here, with a bag of cookies and saying “Hi, I’m your neighbor and today felt like a good day to share a little kindness.” And you know what. My son who says “I don’t talk to strangers ever mom.” stood by my side at each of those houses, by choice. Today and for all the tomorrows, it will look like similar acts of small kindness, eye to eye contact, a smile, holding the door open, buying a stranger a cup of coffee. As well, I will continue to learn what is broken in a system that does not support all the people and use what I know to lead these young men forward. I will examine my own privilege and the shelter it has given me and how best to use that to insist on shelter for everyone.  To show in actions, these young men, that courage beats fear every time and that LOVE aways wins over hate.

Holding on and letting go

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My oldest son is away from home again. I would like to say I am handling it will all the grace and composure I imagined I would back when he was here with me all the time. I was certain I would fill my time up with all those activities I dreamed of doing back when he was younger and my days were filled up primarily with meeting his needs. I visualized myself sending him off with a hearty hug and a “have fun out there”.  Rejoicing in the fact that his roots were solid enough in us that he had the courage to fly away confidently exploring the person he is outside of us. That’s not what’s really happening. Evidenced by the stranger knocking on my van window yesterday to see if I was okay since she had witnessed me sobbing alone in my car for the past few minutes. It wasn’t the first time that day that feelings of grief had crippled me to the point of uncontrollable tears.

I made a decision back when I first met this human being to do all the work necessary to show up as my best self as often as I possibly could for him and his brother. I put on my mom hat and wore it with pride and commitment every single day. There were other hats I  put on throughout this time of mothering but always to the side of or underneath my mom hat. It was my priority. And now things are shifting. I thought way back when that these would be the days that were full of me chasing down my own desires and passions. The ones I imagined in the beginning of mothering that I was missing out on. I thought this would feel exciting.

Truthfully though, this may possibly be scarier then becoming a mother. And that transition took me out at the knees. That place where I lost who I had been in order to become a mother was scary. I had wobbly feet underneath my unstable legs and I was so very uncertain as to how I would ever know what to do with this human being who’s life I had been entrusted with. But there was some guidance. This tiny bundle of love looking up at me wanting to be filled with love. Guiding me to the things he would need in order to thrive. I had an blank map for sure but it came with the most adorable tour guide. It also felt like a beginning.

Here now I stand before a map that is blank indeed and my tour guides appear to be heading off in opposite directions. Leaving me behind to find my own way. It also feels, in this right now moment, more like an ending than a beginning. Though I know it is both because I know that is how life works. Somehow though this knowledge feels much farther away from truth than it has to me before. Cause it’s on me now. I mean it really has been on me all along. But for some reason I found it much easier to step up to the plate and come up with a plan when these four adorable eyes were looking at my for confidence, patience and a sense of direction. Now that I am looking with just my own eyes, I can’t see much through the tears.

I’ll be honest some days I don’t know who I am outside of being their mother. The task of figuring that out is some seriously scary shit. It is way easier to scurry back in to a place of mothering, finding a spare sock who’s partner desperately needs to be located RIGHT NOW, or preparing for future meals seems easier then untangling the dreams that have been waiting their turn and deciding how to take a minuscule step toward one of them. Won’t I loose my kick ass mom status if I look at something else for a moment? Do I really have what it takes to be more than that? These questions make me tremble with fear. Because once again, my son being away, like this entire parenting journey, is way more about me than it is about him. It’s on me again. I still haven’t got used to swallowing that pill.

There are tiny comforts are making their way in though. I suspect they will be the lifeboats in my personal storm. I am still mom. No matter how far away they drift, I get to wear the mom hat for the rest of my life. Even if I decide to put another hat over top of it to chase down something my heart desires, I can easily remove it to show up as I always have. The love, we have been banking up for all these years, is right there with the touch of a button to rush in and remind me that everything is exactly how it should be. The date on the calendar that reminds me when my son will arrive home is in the grand scheme  a short distance away and then the balance will reshuffle. Our days together still do out number our days apart. The truth, that we have held on to all these years, that together we can do hard things, is underlying all of this. The place where we are connected doesn’t disappear with distance, or new roles, or the chasing of any dreams, it is the foundation that has been lovingly tended to year after year that will stretch into our forevers.

So as I said to the lady at my window yesterday, who asked if there was anything she could do to help, “thank you for noticing me in my sadness.” It is the releasing of it that I have to trust is the way through to embracing all the many more moments of joy that are waiting to unfold.This parenting journey is one of simultaneous joy and grief, the feeling of both is what allows us to show up with all the love we have for these human beings.

Ordinary Magic

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This past weekend was an amazing whirlwind of awesome for our family. Being able to take both of the boys to do things that were on their dream lists was epic. Seeing both of them stretch beyond their comfort zones to do these things was pure magic. Being able to witness it all is what this journey is made of. It was all super duper happy making, life affirming awesome all over the place. One of the biggest lesson that came out of it was a text exchange with a friend.

I was sending the sorts of snapchats a mom likes to share with her friends. The sort where you show your kids being all brave and awesome in the world. My dear friend Helen was replying back with huge enthusiasm for what we were up to. She was reminding me how life affirming this all was (this was the weekend of my Father’s Death day nine years earlier and it all seemed so fitting). And then she was sharing her own feelings as big as mine while simply being at home present will her own family.

It can be easy for me to feel the gratitude for the big out in the world moments that have all my senses on high alert. I remember we are alive and being in the world. It can be harder with dishes in the sink and the other sorts of everyday business that threaten to pull me away from gratitude. Yet, it’s still always there, the magic I mean. It’s not just there when we are at Harry Potter world (pun intended) it’s with me all of the days with these human beings who are my children. It’s all about choosing to notice.

It’s that little everyday reminder that parenting is not my job, it is at the heart of who I am. When I live that story I see what is before me as an opportunity to be my fullest most complete self and not as task that needs to be checked off a to do list. I have the opportunity to ground into my value system and interact and react from that place. When being a mother is who I am and not what I do, I operate from words like kind, loving, attentive. I show up for them with an attitude of gratitude for the chance to be who they need me to be.  Which has got to be the key to taking the big magic and winding it’s way through the fibers of the everyday living together. What magic will you uncover in this ordinary day.

For the love of the band

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This ride of being my children’s mother never stops blowing my mind. It was never my job to teach them only to show up and witness what they had in store for me.

Standing on the floor of the Hollywood Palladium squished on all sides by people I had never met, my neighbo’rs beer pouring down my leg, my left foot stuck to something on the floor, my nasal passage assaulted by other people’s body odor, sweat in all the places, I was farther outside of my comfort zone than I would ever choose for myself. My mind looked for exit routes. I could flee and find a better place, with less people and meet up with him once the show was over. I could suggest, gently that maybe we had seen enough and step away to the fresh air of the outside world. Somewhere in me though I heard this tiny voice reminding me “this worry is not his” and “this fear is not his” mostly, “this discomfort is not his.” I focussed my attention on what was truthfully in front of me. My son. Fully present to the moment, experiencing a dream come true. Yes, he would bend in the way that indicates the fatigue of standing on a concrete floor for hours but only for a second before he was swept up in the music again, bouncing off the floor, singing out the lyrics.

Pausing to get comfortable with my own discomfort brought me clear into the moment. Yes, all my senses were alive standing at full attention. There was music literally pulsing through my entire body. The band just started playing their new title “Still Breathing” and I felt as though it was the first time I had really heard the lyrics. I was doing just that I was still breathing through the wreckage of my own fears, I was standing their still breathing and it was a small miracle. Tears stung my eyes as the lyrics carried on. Without pause the music moved into the song “Minority” upending any sense of control I had been holding onto. With snot and tears joining the sweat pouring out of me,  my mind  saw it all in a flash. The four year old him in his one piece blue pajamas with a badminton jacket in his hands singing this very song everywhere he went. My brother arriving with a bass in hand on his fifth birthday because being Mike Dirnt was the most important thing for my son that year. The bands that were formed over and over again to showcase his talents. His first attempts at making music on his own. His now skill at listening to and recreating all the songs the band put out. Each moment that had lead up until now to make this a possibility. I knew then, that it will always be the depths of my gratitude at being his mother that will carry me through the places that threaten to break me.

 

 

Friday Round Up

I love finding cool things spread out on the internet to share with the boys and to inspire my own self. Here a few directions the world took us in this week.

There are many messages out there in the world that shame woman and blame woman and I am inspired by people who are putting a whole different message out to their daughters. Even, without daughters of my own, I want the all the females in my life to feel this support. Read here for inspiration.

With the loss of the iconic pop singer Prince this week the boys and I spent some time searching out his songs. Me sharing bits of my own childhood the role his music played. This tribute is breathtaking.

While making my way in the world this week I was invited to consider the topic of boredom. And I really like this piece that talks about what it can really mean when your child says “I’m bored” along with super helpful ways to show up for them.

For those of us on the journey without school here is a fabulous collection of grown homeschoolers sharing a look into their experience.

In the mail this week we received our first installment of the Creation Crate which has minds being pushed and challenged in new directions. And we were breathlessly waiting for today’s arrival of the Loot Crate. What I love most about these subscriptions is that we don’t know what will show up on our doorstep and take us on new adventures we might have otherwise not gone on. I highly recommend both of these.

So there ya have it a few things that sparked some interest throughout the week. I would love to hear what is sparking the hearts of the people you share the world with!

Learning by the seat of my pants

There are days on this journey that have me learning by the seat of my pants. And this was one of those days. My youngest son loves to watch the YouTube channel Feast of Fiction, which I highly recommend for cool ways to bring some of your children’s favorite in game, anime, pop culture recipes to life. He showed me three videos all of which he wanted to make. I keeping with my commitment to Yes energy agreed. Here’s where it all got super interesting, he meant right now!

The other piece of this day that challenged what I know about following a recipe is, that my son is gluten free. So I would need to on the fly watch the video, read the recipe and adjust to make it all gluten free. Everything in me wanted to say, “but I don’t know how to to do this, can we find something easier.” But his heart was set on making Cinnamon Butterscotch Pie from UnderTale, Poro snacks from League of Legends and Rare candy from Pokemon (the links are included in case you are inspired to head off and make these treasures yourself). So I was staring down making a gluten free pie crust because even though in the video they purchase pre-made crusts I have yet to track down a gluten free one that is worth eating, butterscotch pudding for the first time ever and a pizza dough that was gluten free and pliable enough to roll up like a cinnamon bun. Now for those of you that have not worked in the world of GF baking there is not a lot of give or room for error when handling these things. In general I roll out everything onto the surface it will stay for the duration of it’s cooking and then say a little prayer that it will not crumble to tiny bits on route from plate to mouth. Oh and I’ve never made candy before either.

It would have been easy under these circumstances to make my son pick one on these recipes for us to tackle. Or explain to him how recipes are just impossible to make gluten free. But he was keen to learn how to cook new things. He was excited to explore recipes that were actually from some of his favorite games. But most importantly he fully believed all of this was possible. And that is what I call a motivated learner. If you want something to stick in the mind of young person, having them show up self motivated, eager, with confidence and full enthusiasm is that way to do it.

So I rolled up my sleeves and we watched the videos again and talked about what it would take to make some of the things gluten free and then began a whirlwind day of preparing foods and learning on the spot. The beauty of tackling a task together that neither one of us has done before is that we get to learn together. Which is great modeling for the ways in which  I seek out information when I am wanting to learn something new. It’s also a chance for me to get a peek into how my son tackles new information. Back and forth together in the heat of the “oh no grab it before it boils over moments, “ and the “ack we forgot to add the vanilla is it okay to drop in now, “ we saw each other side by side learning through mistakes and finding on the spot solutions.

It is true that when things were looking to wrap up my son ran out of steam. He wanted me to finish up without him. It would have been easy to ruin the whole day, the whole experience by saying something like, “this was your idea you need to stick around and see it through.” Or to myself, give up and walk away with projects unfinished. But he still wanted to eat the tasty treats. He had simply reached the end part of his learning.  It’s true that the brain can only take in and retain so much new input at one time. I remember a university professor giving us all the tip, when we were studying, to take at least a ten to fifteen minute break for each hour of studying we were doing so we could make room for the new information to come in. So, I happily stayed in the kitchen to finish up the projects because truth be told I was completely committed and I wanted to see it all through.

We nailed the pizza dough and as a result found the best way for making gluten free pizza dough after years of trying. The Poro snacks were a HUGE hit. The pie, oh, the pie, it was delicious to three out of four members of the family and terribly disappointing for the one person who was most excited to try it. His little heart crumbled when after three hours of cooking and waiting the pie didn’t taste good to him. It’s devastating when you put in a lot of hard work and end up not happy with the results.

Again, it can be easy at this point in the exhausted day to snap at the person in front of me that is crying and angry after all my efforts. But it has been one of my biggest lessons in this journey to remember that when my child is devastated and upset it’s not about me. It’s not about my hurt feelings, or my fatigue, it’s about showing up for them. It’s hard to find a recipe you really want to try, to put in hours of prepping and waiting only to discover you’re not a fan of a cinnamon butterscotch pie. That’s what’s really true here. He’s not ungrateful for my time and effort. He is simply sad that this pie tastes bad to him. And it doesn’t help that everyone else likes it. It just means he is missing out on having that yummy feeling.

And so there is another day in our lives. Filled with embracing the eager learning, supporting the passion, making big messy mistakes and holding the heartbreak that comes with disappointment. Personally,  I wouldn’t change one of bit of this wild ride of emotions and broken egg shells on the floor because it’s a chance, over and over again, to show up and connect with these precious human beings I am blessed to have as my children.

A Day In the Life

Because we live life a little differently then those around us, I know some folks wonder what we get up to day to day. I also know for people thinking about letting go of a world with school, it’s one of the first pieces of information they are looking for. What does it all look like? 

I wish I could throw down a simple template that would make the transition easier for all the courageous families who make the bold choice to walk away from the school system and hang out at home together. Sadly, that does not exist. What does exist is the promise of moments throughout the day where it feels like everyone is in some state of flow. Even if that is only the 2 minutes before all hell breaks loose, it’s there if we can open our eyes and catch it.

So, what does a day in the life look like for us? I’m hoping to shine some light on that each Monday with a little snapshot. 

Right now, we are a one car family so my days start with driving in rush hour traffic here in the silicon valley to deposit my husband at work, if we want the car. Which is almost everyday right now. It’s worth laughing out loud at that fact that a year ago, when we had two fully functioning cars, there were days on end when nobody would agree to leave the house. Now, folks want the option each and everyday, even if they don’t exercise it. And as you can probably piece together dropping off at work during rush hour has a pick up happening at the end of the day, with more traffic,  right when folks are ready for dinner!

It has been easy for me to get lost in the drama of whoa is me while we navigate this new one car existence. Thankfully,  I don’t like to stay there long. So I’ve taken to looking for the things in this new part of our day that are truly gifts. Number one: I have time alone in the car with my husband every morning to have a conversation, uninterrupted, that will last for at least ten minutes. There were years before now where that seemed like a nearly impossible task.

Number Two: Once he’s been deposited at work, I can listen, for close to 20 uninterrupted minutes, anything of my choosing. I have years worth of podcasts stored up waiting to be listened to.

Number Three: right now this is my saving grace. My children are old enough to be left home alone. When we first moved here six years ago we were also a single car family. For over a year and my boys were only 5 and 7.  I had to pack all three of us up in the car twice a day if we wanted to have the car. I tell you that was the tipping point many a day, on deciding if an activity was worth it. I am grateful I can leave folks happily engaged in whatever is calling at their hearts to head out the door.

The fourth is a not an everyday thing but when it happens it’s the kinda magic I have been putting the time in for all these years. One of the boys answers, “Yes!” to my call for companions to join me in picking up dad. It hasn’t happened yet that is is both of them at the same time. So, I find myself in the car for a little one on one time with one of my most favorite people. Sometimes we get to chat about things that are troubling someone’s mind. Other times we get to car dance all the way to the office. These are the moments I store up in the special heart pocket I am building for the times when life feel less then magical.

This little snapshot is showing  how I am taking what can feel like a tedious, do I really have to job, turning it on it’s head and pulling out the magic moments that are mine for the enjoying. I wonder if there is something in your day to day with your children today that you can turn on it’s head and uncover a bit of  awesome.

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Recipe For A Happy Childhood

Happy Childhood

Ingredients

abundance of love                          sprinkle of magic

on demand cuddles                       hours of play

2 ears for listening                        time, uninterrupted

buckets of patience                     overflowing understanding

Directions

  1. Apply overabundance of love to all children involved.
  2. When, asked and based on skill observation of needs, apply cuddles. The heart to heart, eye to eye ones.
  3. Have two ears ready at all times to listen. This step also requires the closing of the mouth and opening of the heart.
  4. Patience will be what binds the entire recipe together. It will be required at all times especially when it appears to have run out for the person following the recipe. Dig deep there’s always a little left at the bottom of the barrel.
  5. Sprinkle magic regularly, when moods are darkening, with bubbles and dancing.
  6. To succeed you will need to play. A lot. Together. And alone. Just play and play and play. This is essential for success.
  7. Time, you will need uninterrupted time for the smelling of roses and the chasing of tales.
  8. And finally, understanding will overflow throughout the entire recipe in order for happiness to be true. Make sure your understanding is based on the child’s view and not cluttered with the business of adulting.