Life Lessons

The opportunity to learn and grow is ever present in our lives. From miniscule to massive, joy to pain, health to illness, life lessons abound.  The opportunity to learn and grow is ever present.

Gigglebox recently had a lovely opportunity presented to him with so many lessons available in the process – honesty, patience, responsibility, kindness, and gratitude to name a few. He had received a long coveted iPod for Christmas and had been very thoughtful about keeping track of it (they are sooooo tiny now) and using it appropriately. Then last week at school he put it in his pocket with a bit of haste and it ended up falling out unbeknownst to him at the time.

Later in the day he noticed it was missing. He searched his classroom, backpack, and locker to no avail. Within a short time of coming home, Gigglebox told me he had lost his iPod. We problem solved a bit about where it could be and how he might find it, but also discussed that there was a chance he wouldn’t. He was very sad and I was sad for him. I was also frustrated, but working hard to keep my compassion out ahead of that.

As it was Friday afternoon he was going to have to wait the entire weekend before he could look for it again at school. This was difficult.

He was also charged with telling his dad, who bought the iPod for him, that he had lost it. This was also difficult.

A bit later in the evening I realized that I had totally forgotten to acknowledge the courage it took for him to be honest and tell me right away about the missing iPod. When I praised him for this he beamed with pride and shared how much he had really not wanted to tell me. Honesty.

Gigglebox was very patient throughout the weekend, not fussing when his brother was using his own iPod and not asking to use anyone else’s. He was patient on Monday when the gym at his school (where it most likely fell out of his pocket) was not accessible. He was patient on Tuesday when he again could not get into the gym. Then at last on Wednesday he was there. Patience.

Kindness. This lesson came from his teachers. First a teacher saw it on the floor that Friday afternoon and put it into the lost and found box in the gym. Then another teacher who had seen him with the iPod on the day he lost it recognized it as his and put it in her desk for safekeeping. She returned it to him when he came to class and he was quite relieved to say the least. He told her how much he appreciated her kindness and asked her to also tell the other teacher thank you. Gratitude.

He made a plan to make sure in the future the iPod was attached to him instead of stuffed somewhere.  Responsibility. He also decided not to take it with him on a field trip. Great learning!

While there were many lessons for my little Gigglebox on this journey, the lessons were clearly there for the rest of us as well.

The opportunity to learn and grow is ever present.

Namaste

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...

Infinite Possibilities

I look at my boys everyday and wonder what amazing things they will do as they grow older. Every day I see them learn and grow and change. The possibilities for what they will become are endless. As I glanced through The Parent's Tao Te Ching I came across this section:

At birth your children are filled with possibilities.
It is not your job to limit these possibilities.
Do not say, "This and that are possible for you.
These other things are not."
They will discover on their own what is and is not possible.
It is your job to help them stay open
to the marvelous mysteries of life.


It may be interesting to ask,
"What limitation have I, unthinking, 
taken upon myself?"
It is very difficult for your child's horizons
to be greater than your own.
Do something today that pushes
against your own preconceptions.
Then take your child's hand
and gently encourage her to do the same.

How do you encourage your children to find their gifts and talents and be true to themselves?

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...

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.

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.

Starting them off with enthusiasm

I had the pleasure today of witnessing a rite of passage for many young preschoolers. They came in with their parents to meet their teachers, see their new classrooms, and begin their journey into the world of education. Parents and students alike took in all the sights and sounds of the school building, their eyes wide with wonder: classrooms full of blocks, books, sensory tables, crayons, paints, and more; hallways decorated with beautiful colors and pictures; the playground with hopscotch, climbing equipment, and slides; and all the other children and adults joining them on this day of adventure.

The parents I saw were eager to start their children off on the right foot. They were engaged, caring, and enthusiastic about this new experience for their child. Parents reading with their children, joining in the bead games and sensory table activities, touring their school with the hope of the future.

In turn the teachers met these families with excitement and a sense of opportunity. Greeting families, engaging children, and creating a supportive and positive learning environment.

A child's first experience in school can make all the difference in their success in school. That experience is guided by their parents and teachers who offer support, compassion, and enthusiasm. These little preschoolers are our future. May we guide them everyday with wisdom and respect I witnessed today.