Parenting by Looking Inward First

Wrote this to a friend yesterday struggling with a particular behavior her daughter was exhibiting,

"The bottom line in parenting for me is if I want my kids to change their behavior, I have to change mine. I try to figure out what can I do differently to support the behavior I want to see more of."

Thought I'd post it here to remind myself when I'm struggling that I can make a difference by looking inward and starting there.

Namaste

Stealing

Stealing is one of those things I have always thought of as clear cut and simple. Then, this week Michelle used Asteya - sanskrit for non-stealing - as our meditation focus. One of the affirmations she shared related to asteya was "I am whole and complete." As I contemplated this, I realized that stealing does not always related to a concrete item being taken.

We steal confidence from ourselves when we call ourselves stupid, judge ourselves harshly, or decide something about us is not good enough. When we dissect ourselves, accepting only what we see as good or attractive, we cannot be whole and complete. When we rely on others to provide approval for who we are, we steal from our sense of self-worth. We all have strengths and weaknesses and together they make us who we are.

As parents we unwittingly steal from our children when we fail to acknowledge the many things they do well and criticize their mistakes too harshly. We teach them to steal confidence from themselves as well by creating those negative messages that live in their minds and hearts.

Of course we will be critical and will need to redirect, reteach, and determine consequences for negative behavior at times. But when I look through the lens of asteya, I am encouraged even more to take those extra seconds to think about my words with care, to keep mistakes in perspective, and to acknowledge and apologize when I am wrong.

I want my children to lift up themselves and those with whom they interact. Therefore, I must model this for them at every opportunity. Whether it is showing gentleness with myself, with them, or with others, modeling lovingkindness and understanding teaches them not to steal someone else's confidence and self-worth as well as to value and nurture their own.

May we all awaken to the light of our true nature, fill our hearts with lovingkindness for ourselves, and spread it in all that we do.
Namaste

The allure of whipped cream

The pies of Thanksgiving always have me thinking about whipped cream. Yum! The whipped cream also reminds me of two great stories.

A few weeks ago my oldest son had a cold. To decrease the mucus with the cold I usually eliminate dairy from his diet for a few days. Unfortunately, the day he got sick, Dad came home with pie, ice cream, and whipped cream. He had pie, but not the toppings and was none to happy with Mama about that. I promised him I would let him have a bowl full of both ice cream and whipped cream for a treat when he was feeling better, but apparently he wasn't quite convinced I would follow through.

A couple of days later I was coming down the stairs and he came scurrying toward me from the kitchen and gave me a big hug. I didn't think too much about it, but a couple a minutes later he came back to me and told me he had to confess. Unbeknownst to me, he had been sneaking whipped cream from the container in the refrigerator when I came down the stairs. He said he didn't think I would really let him have some when he was better, so he had been sneaking big scoops of it with his hands.
He was really worried I'd be mad at him. Instead I surprised him by laughing and hugging him, then sharing with him my own story of succumbing to the allure of whipped cream.

As a little girl I had the good fortune to spend a great deal of time with my Grandma. Much of that time was also spent with my dear cousin GB. Every afternoon Grandma would take a nap for an hour or two and GB and I were supposed to rest, watch TV, or play quietly. Being curious girls we frequently found ourselves up to our eyeballs in trouble instead. Grandma had a variety of items around the house that we found quite irresistible and would frequently sneak while she was napping. The most infamous was the Cool Whip in the freezer.

GB and I loved Cool Whip and Grandma always kept a few containers in the freezer for family dinners. Once we discovered this, we made it a habit to slip into the freezer, open a container, and scrap a spoon or our fingers across the top for a little taste. We would smooth the top evenly and one time left the thinnest layer possible in the bottom of the bowl to make sure we hadn't eaten the whole thing. Somehow we fooled ourselves into believing Grandma wouldn't notice. Well, she definitely noticed!

As adults when the pies and the whipped cream came out at Thanksgiving, Grandma would tell the story of going to the freezer to get the Cool Whip and discovering the all but empty container. We tried to defend ourselves, but usually ended up laughing and confessing countless other ridiculous things we'd done while Grandma was napping. The afternoons with GB and Grandma telling that story are some of my favorite memories.

After hearing this story, my son was relieved that he was not the only one to feel the allure of whipped cream and excited that I had shared the story with him.  It was a wonderful moment of connection for the two of us. I was so proud of him for being honest with me and relieved that I had been able to handle the situation with grace and humor.

I love these moments of confident parenting when it all seems to come together. They make the frequent times of struggle much more bearable and remind me that I can be the parent I want to be, but I don't have to be perfect (and neither do my kids).

Spreading the joy

My sons are participating in a choir this fall for the first time. They have always loved to sing, so we thought we'd try this out.

Every week when they leave choir practice they are grinning from ear to ear and seem like they are walking on air. There is something transforming about singing for them. I noticed this from the beginning and have mentioned it frequently to friends and family. As I was emailing the choir director today, I realized I had not mentioned it to her.

So, I shared my observations and her response floored me. She replied, "Thanks for your wonderful email - made my day!"

I'm always surprised how much those little positive reinforcements make such a big difference.

How to learn the rules of the game

Last year walking stick decided to buy himself a game of chess with his Christmas gift card. He didn't really know how to play, but set about learning through a variety of paths.

He read the rules that came with the game, though those are now long gone. Played games against his parents, who never really learned how as kids so weren't much help. Played against his little brother, which often ended in tears and arguments. Played Chess Lite on my iPhone, while waiting for swimming lessons, car repairs, and little brother's choir practice. Played endless hours of games against himself, my personal favorite. And found a few friends who would play chess at school or on play dates.

Now, eleven months later, he feels fairly proficient in his understanding of the basics of chess. He still tends to recite rules as he remembers them or, as we perceive, as they benefit him the most. Typical nine year old stuff. So when the arguments begin as he plays with his brother, he feels he is now the chess expert. What's a mom to do without the trusty rule book to employ?

I love Google! In less than a minute I've got a chess rules website with descriptions of what each piece can do, visual demonstrations, and information on a few special moves. End of argument! Next step is to teach them how to gently and compassionately remind each other of the rules. Thank goodness I'm a social worker and have years of practice at that! Teach, model, supervise, recognize, re-teach, and on we go...

Yoga teachers in the making

We had so much fun at our family yoga class this week. I am definitely not the only yoga teacher in the family! My boys are naturals.

Walking Stick has been coming to my Saturday morning adult classes and taught tree pose nearly verbatim to how I teach it in class. He sounded like he been teaching it for years, giving all the variations and options for extensions.

Giggle Box's expertise was helping with alignment. He was able to see the slight postural changes that could help someone improve their pose or make the adjustment I had given verbally. He is not always able to feel that in himself, but could easily see it in others.

When they were younger I was often frustrated in our family yoga classes because they would want to take over and change the directions I was giving. Before we started this session, I talked with them about this frustration. Giggle Box told me that he thought he was the teacher of the class and that is why he was always trying to take over. Too bad I didn't get it sooner, but this time we planned for them to have some leadership and it made all the difference.

It was a good lesson for me to remember that I don't always have to be the director. I've got two fabulous leaders growing before my eyes and they have a lot to teach me as well.

Can we teach insight?

Insight is an amazing gift that allows us to reflect and move forward. As a mom I often find myself trying to give my children a different perspective that will bring them the insight they need. Sometimes I think I hit the mark and other times they have no idea what I am talking about. Then, a little glimmer appears and I think maybe I'm doing something right along the way.

This evening giggle box very unexpectedly walked up to me and said, "Mama, sometimes I overreact to  walking stick." I was stunned. We've been working on these reactions for months. Talking about it, planning ahead, reflecting, role-playing...and nothing seemed to stick much. So this bit of out of the blue reflection gives me some hope that all this may be working after all.

It's a good reminder for me that we all have to get things in our own way at our own time. We can be told information over and over, but until we are ready to hear it we don't. Until it makes sense to us and is meaningful, we can't use it.

More lessons in patience for mama.

Cultivating compassion

The Dali Lama teaches that through our thoughts and reactions we create our own suffering. That cultivating compassion for ourselves and others helps us to lessen this suffering so we can experience more joy. I had the opportunity for a little "aha!" about this teaching this week.

My little giggle box is often slow moving in the morning and needs a good deal of time, support, and at times cajoling to get himself ready. As our schedule for this week, at home and school, was going to be a bit taxing, I expected he would need more support. Therefore, I consciously planned that into my morning for the week.

On Friday, however, giggle box awoke very alert and seemingly moving at a good pace on his own. Consequently, and mostly unconsciously, I shifted my expectations. I began working from the perspective that he was perfectly capable of managing his morning routine without the extra supports I had been giving him. Didn't notice that big red flag waving in my face, so suffering ensued for all of us.

After a start of independence, giggle box began to struggle with getting things done. Since I had shifted my thinking about his needs for support, providing this support became an annoyance instead of an expectation. My preconcieved notion about his ability to manage his morning independently led me to perceive his behavior as a problem. Thus, I became frustrated and irritated without even realizing why. We muddled through our morning grouchily and I felt dumbfounded about what had made this morning so different.

Later in the day as I grumbled to my friend about our frustrating morning, the Dali Lama's teaching popped into my head. I realized that nothing about the morning had been dramatically different than any other day that week except for my perspective on what my giggle box should or should not be doing independently! I created my own suffering and frustration by the way I looked at the situation.

I also realized that I probably do this every day about many things. Creating my own suffering about all the situations that interfere with my plans and expectations. While I am working on this through my meditation practice, I am sure that most of the time I don't even notice how my thinking influences my reactions. Yet another reminder that this is what being present is all about. Feeling, thinking, doing, being in the moment, not from old patterns.  Consciously choosing how I will act and react. Noticing the old patterns of thinking that send me down that road of frustration and choosing a different, more compassionate path.

When we listen with our hearts full of compassion, we can respond full of compassion. It takes practice and attention and being present, but we can be successful one moment at a time. We will also fail and those are our opportunities to practice compassion for ourselves.

Namaste

Babies don't drive cars

My darling niece, Nutmeg, turned sixteen a few weeks ago (and may be mortified that I am writing this blog after she reads it although I did use an alias, albeit an easily decoded one [@Nutmeg: there are fun words in that sentence just for you ;)]). She was beyond thrilled to be getting her driver's license and hitting the road on her own. Her mom, on the other hand, was experiencing a bit of ambivalence, to say the least.

Nutmeg is a very responsible, level-headed girl. She has good judgement, common sense, and is an excellent driver. My husband even trusted her with his brand new car after she'd only been driving with her permit a few months. That said, in her mama's heart she is still that little baby she brought home from the hospital sixteen years ago.

Upon contemplating the prospect of her baby driving from Boulder to Westminster...on the highway...in the evening...by herself, the mama bear inside started to rise up. She emailed me, "Babies aren't supposed to drive away from their mamas!" And she is absolutely right! Except that her baby is now sixteen and is supposed to drive away, but also to come home.

So how do we let go without going crazy? Little by little. By practicing Aparigraha (Sanskrit for non-clinging). Learning when to hold on and when to let go, when to supervise and when to trust, taking small risks and leaps of faith, teaching our children the skills they need and recognizing that each little step of independence is a letting go.

For Nutmeg, that whole year of driving with a permit was part of this process...plus the fifteen years of parenting she received before that. Her parents have built a fabulous foundation and strong roots for her, the sky is the limit for how and where she will grow. As parents we work to build that strong foundation day by day and then have to trust that our kids will use those roots to ground themselves as they test out their wings and fly (or in this case drive). We are still there to catch them when they stumble or fall and help them work through their mistakes. Little by little means just that, baby steps for the kids and the parents. We are all learning together.

Sweet Mama's Boys

My boys have always been mama's boys. Some might think that's a bad thing, but I love the close bond we have together. Now they definitely adore their daddy, love to spend time with him, and revel in their weekly boys' night when I go to teach yoga and they get to do boy things. But deep in their hearts they are mama's boys. This week they both turned on the sweet talk to show me just that at very unexpected times.

My little giggle box and I have an hour or so each week when we hang out together while big brother is at choir practice. This week we were chatting and snacking when out of the blue he turned to me and said, "Mom, you mean everything to me." There was such earnestness in his face and voice, it nearly brought me to tears. His little heart was on his sleeve and mine just melted. Later when I was tucking him in he said it again. Adding, "I really mean it, Mom."

The next day, coincidentally, big brother turned on his charm. He was out in the yard playing one variety of ball or another, as is usually at our house. I came out to enjoy the sunshine and began to admire the fall flowers in our garden. Between the mums, hyacinths, and roses, the shades of pink and red were stunning. I commented on how beautiful the flowers were and my silver tongued walking stick turned to me with his big brown eyes and said, "The only flower I see is the one standing next to me." I laughed, as usual, and gave him a big hug. As cheesy as it was, at that moment it was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard.

I am so grateful to have these two sweet boys with their big hearts and tenderness. They help me remember to be in the moment as present as I can be, taking in all that they and life has to offer. They will continue to grow and become more and more independent, but as they do I trust that they will continue to have that special place in their hearts for their mama.

Laughing too much?

Occasionally my boys tell me that I laugh too much and wonder if I'll ever stop laughing. (Although, they also say other people don't laugh enough and they certainly don't like it when I don't laugh and get cranky!) When it's just us, apparently all this laughing is not a big deal. However, when the friends are around...sometimes we get a little self-conscious.

This morning as we chatted in the hall with one of the friends, my little one leaned in and whispered, "Don't embarrass me, Mom." I whispered back, "How would I do that?" He replied, "By laughing too much." I reigned it in a bit and wondered to myself, "Doesn't he remember I'm Laughing Yoga Mama?" LOL

But seriously, it was a good reminder for me that sometimes I can be overwhelming with my big laugh and personality. School is his place, so I'm a bit more of a background than center stage. He's Mr. Charisma in the classroom and I don't want to upstage him. When he's missing me or needs a boost, though, he is more than willing to put on a big show with me. Like at the end of the day when barrels toward me at full tilt or jumping up to hug me when I visit the classroom to help out.

I am most appreciative (and hope I can take just a teensy bit of credit for it) that my sweet little boy leaned in with a respectful whisper to handle his worry, instead of any number of other less kind ways he could have handled his feelings. I'm so glad he appreciates his laughing yoga mama, but can ask for quiet yoga mama when he needs her.

Finding balance

Flipping through The Parents Tao Te Ching this evening I came to Number 42 - Finding Balance. It fits so much for this day of imperfection and struggling with what is or isn't and how to best be there in those difficult moments.

There are so many paradoxes in parenting
that it is difficult to find balance.
Some don't even try.
They just plunge ahead 
ignoring the subtle whispers of wisdom.
Others try half-heartedly, but resort to old methods
when they get confused.
But some hear wisdom's quiet voice
and make it their own. 


They find strength in softness,
power in flexibility,
perfection in mistakes,
success n failure,
clarity in confusion,
and love in letting go.
                *

Parenting paradoxes abound.
Don't let appearances deceive you.
Things may not be at all as they seem.
What's going on with your children right now?
Are you sure?
Or are you just making assumptions?
Buried in the most difficult of times are polished gems.
Lurking beneath serene surfaces 
lie turbulent waters.
Stay balanced.

Namaste

Grasshopper and the beginner's mind

As I watch my boys find the wonder in a grasshopper hanging on the edge of a chair on our patio, I am reminded of the openness of a child's mind and spirit. My sweet boys have shown me this so many times over the years, although I do not always recognize it right away.

My youngest son and I went walking at a nature preserve this morning. As we strolled along the path the scent of sun warmed earth washed over me, bringing me back to my childhood. I stopped and brought the scent to my son's attention. He drew in a deep breath through his nose and said, "Mom, that smells wonderful!" Then, to my surprise, he told me he was really wanting to cry and was trying to hold back his tears. When I inquired as to why, he replied, "It's just so beautiful." Then my tears began to flow with him.

It is easy to forget that our children have not had all of the experiences we have had. It is easy to discount their wonder. It is so utterly fulfilling to step inside that wonder to see a grasshopper hanging on the edge of the chair as if for the first time again.

Being present in this moment with our beginner's mind. Remembering we have seen grasshoppers and smelled the earth many times in our lives, but we have not see this grasshopper or smelled this patch of earth in this moment ever before. Allowing ourselves to see, hear, feel, and touch whatever our experiences are free of the judgement and expectations that prevent us from being fully present.

Allowing vs. struggling

I've been reading a book that was sitting on my bed stand collecting dust for longer than I care to admit (so I won't) called Stretching Lessons by Sue Bender. It leaped out at me from the shelf at Barnes and Nobles some time ago so I bought it. Apparently, I've been a bit resistive to reading it as I've even packed it on a few trips, but never managed to crack it open...until this week of course. I guess we really can only hear (or in this case read) the things we need to when we are really ready.

The content that has struck a chord with me is Sue's realization that she continually struggles for all of her successes, even when she doesn't need to. She discusses taking a "stretching class" and is opened to the possibility of allowing things to happen rather than struggling with them.

As I struggle with the demands and challenges of motherhood, I am realizing that I really do too often struggle. This seems especially true as the boys get older. I'm pushing and pulling and trying to get to some destination that apparently is not such a big priority for everyone else. This concept of allowing instead of struggling seems like a good next step to practice. I'm pretty good at the struggling, so a new skill seems like a good idea.

As I listened to one of my favorite authors, Pema Chodron, today this concept came up again. She described how everything becomes so small and narrow when we have pain and struggle against it rather than facing it. This is so amazingly true! My view is unbelieveably narrow when the sock on the floor, the dishes on the counter, or the time on the clock are the only things I can see. My vision without my glasses really is nearsighted, but I can apparently still be nearsighted even with my glasses on!

So, how do I go about practicing allowing? I guess the first step is to notice when I'm struggling. From there I can begin to step back, broaden my perspective, open my heart, and practice allowing. I'm thinking laughing is going to be a big part of this process. Laughing at myself and the crazy things I get worked up about will be a great first step. Onward, I go...(giggle, giggle)

Giggle box and walking stick cut a rug

A couple of weeks ago we were at a reception celebrating my cousin's wedding. When the dancing music came on little giggle box said, "Come dance with me, Mama." So off we went. We spun and twirled and shook our hips. Then he turned on the real show and started his fast tapping feet with the wild arm accompaniment. It was so cute and funny and really proud of himself.

Initially, big brother walking stick said he was only a "one foot dancer." He demonstrated by sliding his right foot to the side and back several times. What a goof ball! When giggle box found himself in the center of a large circle showing off his moves, walking stick decided it was time to get into the act. He slipped onto the dance floor and began to draw the crowd toward him. Feeling the rhythm, he created moves I'd never seen before. What a hoot to watch him experiment and strut his stuff.

My little giggle box was a bit under the weather and did not have the stamina to keep up with big brother. After getting his groove on for a while, he got a foot rub from mama and a snuggle from dad and crashed.

Walking stick continued on for a couple of hours working the crowd. He was so engaging with his dancing that at one point the wedding photographer took him off to the side for his own little photo shoot. I cannot wait to see those pictures!

There is something about dancing that allows us to explore and create. It was a delight to see the freedom my boys felt as they slid, shimmied, stomp, and swayed to the beat. When we put down our armor and flow with the music, our souls revel in the joy of the moment.

Parenting with a whisper

It's amazing to me how sweet and cooperative my sons have been while I have had laryngitis. What voice I have sounds like a whisper and I'm using clapping, tapping, gestures, and sign language to communicate. They are being helpful and responsible, following directions, taking the initiative to get things done, and trying to take care of me.

Last year when I lost my voice they both told me they thought I was going to die. I assured them I wouldn't die from laryngitis, but I'm wondering if that was buzzing around in their heads as they became oh so helpful the last few days. "If we are nice enough to mama, maybe she'll get her voice back and she won't die."

I was with some dear friends last night when one of them posed the question, "Why do my kids stop when I say 'that's enough,' but not when I ask them to stop the two times before then." As I noticed this recent increase in compliance with my own children, I wondered the same. What is it that is different when we are sick or exasperated that gets them to stop? And how can we bottle that so it happens all the time? Are we doing something different or are they?

Perhaps our children are better at reading us than we think they are. Perhaps we don't deliver the first message with the same intent, therefore they perceive a bit of wiggle room. Maybe we aren't fully engage or attentive with the first request or directive. Maybe they tune in more when we are sending out different signals. Maybe I should do some research!

I'm going to attempt to observe myself over the next few days with my limited voice and as it fully recovers to see what I'm doing differently that they are interpreting in my tone or body language. My mini research project for the weekend.

Stayed tuned for the results...

Still a rookie mom

I came across a book today called The Rookie Mom's Handbook. It is based on a blog by two moms who share ideas about things to do with your baby throughout the first year. As I pondered this very cute and entertaining guide, I began to wonder when we move on from being rookie moms?

When my oldest son was born everything that happened was new and I felt like I faced each day's challenges in a very mindful and present manner. I definitely knew I was a rookie mom. When my second son was born I realized that while I had the experiences from my first son, I couldn't do things exactly the same because he was a different child and had different needs. I found that when I would get frustrated I was often expecting my son to act or respond differently than he was. I wasn't being present in that moment, I was expecting it to be like some other moment I had experienced or wished for. I didn't always look like a rookie mom to others, but I was definitely a rookie at being a mom to my second son and a rookie at being a mom of two.

In some meditation traditions we are taught to practice staying in our beginner's mind. This concept helps us to keep ourselves in the present moment, rather than slipping into old patterns. If we are in our beginner's mind, all experiences are new and unique. We can be observant and make choices based on the current situation without dragging in all of our history. I think a rookie mom perspective is very much a beginner's mind perspective.

Even though my sons are nine and seven, I still feel like a rookie mom much of the time. They continue to grow and change and every day is full of new experiences. The days are also full of experiences that are very familiar like getting ready for school, eating meals, preparing for bed, etc. The challenge through those familiar tasks is to maintain that rookie mom or beginner's mind perspective. If I can do that and remain present in the current moment, I can respond to my children as they are right now in this moment with compassion. When I forget to "be here, now," I find myself much less compassionate and much more impatient.

Parenting is a practice, just as yoga and meditation are practices. We practice every day beginning where we are, listening to the messages our bodies (and our children) send us, and knowing that each time we practice we are a little bit different. Each day, each practice is different, even though much of it feels familiar. Be present. Be here, now. Breath by breath. Moment by moment. Just be.

Too Perfect

I try to remember how important it is that our children know we make mistakes and that we aren't perfect. When they are teenagers this is no problem, we can't do anything right at that stage. :) When they are younger, though, we parents seem infallible and that can be pretty intimidating.

One evening my oldest son was lamenting about how he never does anything right and that he is always making mistakes. (He definitely inherited the perfectionist gene.) I gave him my line about expecting kids to make mistakes because that is how they learn and that everyone makes mistakes. This night he wasn't buying it and exclaimed that I never make mistakes. Overcoming the urge to burst into hysterical laughter, I thought to myself, "If he only knew." Then I realized he didn't know.

I asked him if he knew how many mistakes I had made that day. He replied, "None!" I proceeded to begin at my waking moments and list off every tiny little mistake I had made that day. Not getting out of bed right away, so I had to rush; not remembering if I put conditioner on my hair, so I had to redo it to make sure; forgetting my shoes upstairs; leaving my phone in the house, etc., etc. I went through the whole day describing all the small mistakes I had made and things I had forgotten. He was truly amazed and so was I!

We went on to talk about learning from those mistakes and taking steps to prevent them from happening again. We also focused on the importance of being gentle with ourselves when we do make mistakes. Calling ourselves names and expecting the worst only makes us feel worse. Learning from our mistakes, making changes, and apologizing when necessary help us to change those patterns.

It is critical for me to let my children know when I have made mistakes, to admit when I am wrong, and to apologize to them. They won't know how to do this if I don't show them and they'll continue to expect themselves to be perfect. High expectations are important, but the expectation of perfection can be destructive and paralyzing.

Many of us put on a really good show of having it all together and being perfect. It's easy to assume by just casually observing that we never make mistakes. I think we've learned to compensate and adjust, not making a big deal about our mistakes, and moving on.

My son and I came up with a little saying that we use now and again to remind us to be gentle with ourselves and others, "I am perfectly imperfect and that's perfectly fine." It helps on those hard days when nothing seems to be going right and is an important reminder to keep it all in perspective.

The Pace Car

If I had to come up with my own metaphor, the pace car would not have been in my realm of thinking. It was, however, for my son. He told me the other day that I should call his brother the pace car. Having no idea what he was talking about I asked him why. He responded that his brother always wants everyone to follow him and that is what a pace car does. He hit the nail on the head with that one!

I was truly amazed by his insight and a bit concerned that his brother might find this insulting. We explored the topic a bit more and I realized this was the perfect metaphor for helping his brother to recognize a positive way to use his leadership skills. We noted that pace cars get everyone started and then move to the side so they can take responsibility for themselves. When someone is injured or in danger, the pace car comes back out to provide support. Then again, it moves to the side allowing the race to resume.

Later, I discussed this with big brother and he loved the idea. He felt it fit him and was thoughtful about the way a pace car allows the race to happen without having to manage everything. He happened to attend a birthday party yesterday and made sure to bring home a treat for each of us that was specific to who we are. When I noted that this was very thoughtful, he said, "That's what a pace car would do, wouldn't it?" I am hopeful this insightful metaphor will give him a more concrete image to hold onto as he navigates the ins and outs of his social world.

As I think about it more, parenting is much like being a pace car as well. Knowing when to lead and when to get out of the way is not always easy. Knowing we need to helps us to keep it in mind and hopefully recognize those revving engines signaling our time to pull aside.

The wisdom of children

In difficult times I am frequently struck by the wisdom of my children. They are often more in tune with the connections of the universe than we adults and are more willing to listen to their instincts and intuition.

One of my sons frequently states that he is psychic. I'm not even sure how he learned the term, but he always uses it in the correct context. Most of the time he brings up the topic independently and has often funny and often profound things to say.

One morning he came into the bathroom with me as we were getting ready for the day and announced to me that he was psychic. When I explored what this meant to him, he found it difficult to explain. He couldn't pinpoint exact types of information he was psychic about, but had a general sense that sometimes he knows things before they happen or knows information other people don't.

He then proceeded to tell me that in my next life I was going to be a bird. I was quite surprised by this information and asked him what kind. Without hesitation he turned to me and said, "A whooping crane." It was so lovely and funny and unexpected. Imagining myself as a future whooping crane soaring over the plains of Colorado is a lovely image and telling the story always makes me laugh.

Tonight he amazed me again with his insight and connectedness. We were talking about my aunt, who is very ill in the hospital. It has been a difficult few days not knowing what all was wrong and how sick she really is. He asked me directly if she was going to die. We have had many conversations about death over the years and especially this summer with several deaths in our family. I always tell my children that we are all going to die sometime, that it is part of life, but we do not know when our time to die is.

In response to my son's query I responded with my usual preface about death and stated that I didn't know what was going to happen with my aunt. His earnest reply , "Mom, I just don't feel in my heart that this is her time to die."

Having felt so untethered myself for a few days, his response grounded me in a way nothing else could. I encouraged him to hold that feeling in his heart and I plan to do the same.

Later in the evening I received word that my aunt had become more engaged with the people around her today and active in decisions about her care. She seems to be turning the corner for now and my little psychic knew it all along.