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).

The world is a classroom

As I was writing the Mama Drama column this week, I noticed a thread related to taking advantage of the opportunities life presents. I have used the world, our community, and the people in it to teach my children lessons and morals since they were old enough to listen. I am so grateful for all the people in the world who make both smart choices and the occassional mistakes in public that I can use as teaching moments for my children. Driving is prime time for teaching in our family.

Before my boys even sat on a bike they were made fully aware of the importance of helmets as we drove through the city. I would say things like, "I'm so glad that boy is wearing his helmet. That will keep him safe." Or, "I hope he gets home safely. It is dangerous to ride without a helmet." Mistakes give me a bonus to model compassion along with noting the correct behavior expected. I knew it was working when those same statements came out of my boys' mouths as we traveled around.

As I drove the boys to school this snowy morning on the icy roads, I had several opportunities to plant seeds for future behaviors. We talked about starting out slowly to see how icy the roads were, taking our time because it was more important to get there safely even if we were late, and appreciatively noticing the safe steps other drivers were taking to keep themselves and us safe. I hope these lessons will stay in their thoughts as they grow up and become drivers themselves.

It is all too easy, however, to miss the opportunity for positive modeling and to fall into traps of impatience or frustration. I work to keep these moments far fewer than the others, but I am human so am also working on being compassionate with myself when they do occur.  Additionally, recognizing my own mistakes and talking with my children about them, is just as important as modeling the better choices. Can't having them thinking I'm perfect or that they need to be.  So when I get impatient and cranky with the driver ahead of me, I try to step back, admit that I'm overreacting and have no control over their choices, take some breaths, and get back to being present where I am.

The world provides countless learning opportunities for my children and also for me.

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

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

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.

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.

Climb back up, Mama!

We all have those days when we've reached the end of our rope and we think our bucket is empty. It's been tipped over, kicked in, and banged up beyond recognition and it seems all is lost for it's recovery. We think we got nothing left to give to anyone. We are sucked dry without an ounce of energy or kindness or love left to give. In these moments I always seem to hear the voice of Claire Huxtable saying, "I have nothing left to give!" with all the melodrama intact.

My tendency when I am so worn out is to be cranky...which is no fun for any of us. But if I take a moment to tell my children that I am exhausted and need help, they consistently rise to the occasion. They offer help, give me hugs, make sweet pictures, sing silly songs, tell jokes, or give me the few minutes of quiet or rest that I need. They fill my bucket with their kindness and wisdom, one drop at a time. Before I know it, I am once again able to function and get through whatever lies ahead. Their generosity and love constantly amazes me.

There is a quote I love by FDR - "When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." At the age of three my youngest son came up with his own version that always brings a smile to my face and lightens my load. I was exasperated one afternoon and I complained, "I'm at the end of my rope!" My sweet boy responded earnestly, "Climb back up, Mama, climb back up!" The wisdom of a three year old. Phenomenal!

If we can all remember to climb back up (or at the very least hang on and ask for help) when we reach the end of our rope, we can make it through even the darkest days with the love of our children guiding us on.

Dancing boys make my day

As our mundane morning routine was coming to an end today, my oldest son decided to show me his "favorite dance move." It resembled MC Hammer back in the day and gave me a good chuckle. Not to be outdone, son number two joined in the hip hop fest with his latest smooth moves. Then the real fun began...

(When I'm off teaching yoga on Tuesday nights, the boys have been enjoying America's Got Talent with Dad. Apparently, this is the inspiration for what I witnessed next.)

The boys began an improvised, synchronized dance routine. They slide across the floor, twisted, spun, engaged in robotic movements, and channeled the Temptations and the Jackson Five as they found their funk and rhythm. As I watched them my grin kept growing and the giggles from all of us filled the house.

After great applause for their effort, we laughed and hugged together and headed off for the rest of the day. So glad they didn't have to rush off to school yet because I might just have forgotten to enjoy the moment and swept them off to get ready. The image of their dancing kept me going through a cranky day at work.

Be here, now...this is always part of my yoga teaching. Just as salient, if not more so, in my parenting.

I don't want to grow up!

Seven is a tricky age. Your still considered a "little kid", but you can do many things the "big kids" can do. It's fun to get adult attention and snuggle up like you did when you were littler, but you don't want mom or dad doing it all for you all the time!

What is a parent to do?

Staying tuned in to the needs of the moment is a huge key to navigating the tricky nature of seven year olds. Offering choices, independent options, scaffolding tasks to support the skills they have and teach the skills they need, being flexible, listening, watching, and keeping our own egos out of the mix leads to much greater success.

But what parent can do all that all the time when juggling siblings, laundry, dinner, dirty bathrooms, work, and everything else on your plate? None of us really. That's why I try to think of parenting as a practice. I will never achieve perfection, although I hope to experience (and notice) many perfect moments. I strive each day to be the best parent I can be and to support my children in being the best they can be. No day is every the same and there are always many mistakes along the way. Staying present and being gentle with myself (not always achieved) and gentle with my children (also not always achieved) are my goals each day.

What was your perfect parenting moment today? Recognize it, honor it, and carry it with you as you continue on your journey.