Live Free

Redemption

It turns out that being nearly five years old makes for a touch and go kind of season in our home.  My mama heart is aching with a familiar pang for the blinding unknown of what's next on this parenting journey.  In one hand, she can't stop herself from wanting to help manage and lead with the proficieny being years beyond her. And in the other hand, she is still very much quite the little girl and is still learning to manage her own strong emotions --  all while slowly having the veil of innocence lifted from her view.   She is discovering that all of us living here on this great big planet are,  in fact, not on the same page and that there are a thousand shades of gray.  Absolutes rarely exist.  I can only imagine that after a lifetime of absorbing the values of mommy and daddy (the two people that epitomize safety and nurturance), to be made aware of such complexities must feel so confusing and disheartening to a nearly five year old. 

These are stormy days.  Tantrums, yelling, whining, trouble with peers.  We are wading through the thick and murky waters of it all and we are mostly exhausted and feeling very tender.  

Though with my fare share of these cycles under my belt now, I know this too shall past. She is not done.  And neither am I, for that matter.  Grace will find us both . I'll keep trying to be the mommy she deserves.   The one that remembers to parent from the place of love and compassion. To say what I see.  To give horse rides through the hoouse and to play fetch with my human child/puppy every single day. To be the model of calm and to do my best to save my own tantrums for moments behind a locked bathroom door.   To chuck the to-do list more often than not.  And to remember that the really ugly, really unmentionable, unsavory moments,  those are the saddest cries for help. Listen carefully to those.  

Yesterday was one of those days. It'd been months since I'd felt so rattled by her behavior. I was beyond frustrated. I was just sad. And I knew she had to be feeling awful inside as well. After her quiet time, which she clings to lately (to sort through the difficulties of her days, I'm guessing) I asked her if she wanted to go to our favorite park. "We can climb the tree, pack a picnic, and just enjoy the fresh air." I was expecting her to say no because that's her automatic response my suggestions these days. But instead, she let out a big sigh and said, "Yeah, let's go." 

It was a perfect early spring afternoon. We were both in such dire need. We climbed our favorite climbing tree.  We snacked. We played Ma and Laura. We made a fairy house. But most importantly, we  just enjoyed each other -- amongst swaying wild grasses, red tail hawks soaring, pecan trees, and springs.  "It's so beautiful here mom. It's own little special spot."  Yes, it was the redemption we both longed for. 

airing it out.

It's been awhile since I've had a real heart to heart in this place. For some reason (there's always quite a reason), I just haven't been able to write here.

Maybe I've just needed some alone time. A quiet brain to sort through life.

I do know that I've been thinking a lot. Thank goodness, right? Trying to untangle the knots of what keeps me away. Slightly worried I'll never come back. Wondering what might take its place. 

The thing is, I never want to pretend. And I don't want to say what's already been said, time after time. 

Do you ever feel like you've reached the end of the internet? That every single article on Facebook says the same thing over and over. Seriously, I can not read one more article on positive discipline or tips to mindful parenting. I'm queesy just thinking about it. I'm exhausted by the bullet points. connection. playfulness. time in nature. blah, blah, blah.

Isn't that awful of me to speak about here? You might be wondering just how unmindful I really am. I can imagine you all unsubsribing to my blog right about now. 

The truth is, over the last few months, I've let the outside world filter through into my home world, and I feel ashamed to admit this, but it's left dirty footprints all over my conscienence. And so now, I'm cleaning house, so to speak. Shooing all of the nasty thoughts of inadequancy out the door. They are not welcome here! Can you imagine that from time to time, I've almost come to believe that I haven't been a good enough mother? That I was screwing her up? That everyone was looking at and examining our failures? And let's not even get started on the presumptions of her being adopted. Big issues here! 

It's kind of crazy, I admit. Honestly, I am tired of thinking about being everything I need to be as a mother. I'm burnt out on the task of "mother mastery". The noice of advice and to do's and parenting books and how to get it right has nearly stiffled my voice down to non-existence. 

It's a bit overwhelming and exhausting. The thing is, I'm not a perfectly happy, cheerful, and patient mama. None of us are. It's okay! We get tired. Our children get tired. We have opposite needs when our cups run empty. 

Also, while I'm on a truthful tangent -- I have other interests beyond parenting and early childhood education. I want to travel more. I want to read more. Maybe learn to become profiecient with at least one musical instrument. I want to bake bread on a regular basis again. I love to write and I adore photography. 

When Beatrix is grown, I want her to remember me as a whole person. Mom in the garden. Mom rocking out to Patty Griffin in the kitchen while kneading bread or prepping dinner. Mom sprawled out on the couch reading the Sunday NYT. Mom trying to capture the sunlight as it filters through her fern. 

I want her to see me not only as her mother (yes, who adores her beyond words) but as an interesting person to know. Someone with passions and layers upon layers of stories untold. I'm not saying we should all throw in the towel and be crappy parents and always put our own interests first before the needs of our families. No, there should always be time to reflect. We should take this on this role with sincerity and thoughtfulness. But what I am saying, is let it be. Forgive. Serve yourself. Find your joy. Then find your children, scoop them up, and love them completely for who they are. Trust in who you are. Trust in what you already know deep down at the bottom tip of your own heart. 

I'm done with beating myself (and therefore, her) up. I'm tired of thinking there is something wrong with us. That we aren't like everyone else and caring about what we must look like to everyone else. 

The truth of the matter is it's a dangerous habit to examine (and re-examine) our lives through a magnifying glass. Every flaw looks monstruous and overbearing. But really, when you toss the magnifying glass aside, and maybe even take a couple of steps back, the imperfections are what make our lives beautiful, authentic, and maybe even comfortably lived-in. So yes, my girl is a handful. An exciting, challenging, exuberant, strong, and hilarious, handful. But she's our little handful. We ALL have our hands full because really, what fun are empty hands.  

Treasures and then some.

This quilt, from my grandma's. I'm not exactly sure about the story behind it. There might not be a story. It's probably just another functional quilt made of scraps kind of creation, but I'm pretty sure my great grandmother, Leontine, quilted it. She made lots of wild quilts in her days. The weight of this one is so great - heavy, substantial. I'm really picky about the weight of my covers on the bed and this quilt seals the deal in that department. Perfection. I love it. It is sewn entirely by hand and is in perfect condition. Can you say treasure? 

This girl. I admit, we have days that are not always so nice. Not in the least. She and I. Together, I know we must sometimes look like two elderly sisters living together and having quite a time getting along. But I like to think that mostly, we really enjoy each other's presence. She is so big and smart and full of important questions and things she wants to know more about - like calendars and fossils. She's getting into these phases where she can play and plan and create for hours. And then she'll go outside and play and play with her little friend next door. Unbelieveable. And then, she'll ask for me to hold her at which point she wraps her legs tightly around my waist and while her arms squeeze me, her nose nuzzles my neck. I love nearly four. Busy, purposeful and still my precious little girl. She's another treasure. The biggest one yet. 

We have eight hens and we gathered 8 eggs today. I'm a happy chicken farmer. Our hens are such good, pretty girls. I can't believe half the flock is over two years old already. Beatrix was just a tiny tot when we got them as baby chicks. Time flies. 

I made a terrarium today. For the last couple of weeks, I've been collecting supplies: moss, lichen, succulents, rocks, etc. I put it together today and it looks lovely on our kitchen table. I'm ready to make another one!  

Also, I think Lori already has quite a following, but just in case you haven't discovered her blog yet, please check it out. What I'm enjoying most is her series on Project Based Homeschooling for grownups. Yes, because we too, frequently need to have faith in ourselves, just as we have to have faith in our children, that we can grow, that we can self-direct, that we can still be curious, engaged learners -- even when we are in the trenches of parenthood. Our children need role models of people doing real, meaningful...stuff. 

In her posts, she says stuff like this. 

"Just like exercise builds muscle by tearing muscle, you can grow by stressing yourself out a little. You’ve already seen everything that exists inside your comfort zone. I’m not saying you have to leap right to public speaking or kidney donation, but maybe go to a social event you would normally invent an excuse to avoid. Maybe when someone asks for volunteers, raise your hand. When your neighbor asks if you want to go along to her book club, say yes. When you see a flyer at the library for an interesting class or seminar you would normally consider and dismiss, actually sign up. Get a babysitter and go."

Which takes me back to my post from last week. It was a funny little post which was basically just me having a conversation with myself. I really, really appreciate every single kind remark in response to my words. Thank you. It feels good to hear good things about yourself. Wow! But I didn't intend to come across as sounding pityful or needing a pat on the back. (Well, let's be real, shall we? Who doesn't need a pat on the back every now and then.) That felt good, like an unexpected massage, or an evening out with the girls. At least, when I wrote it, I wasn't searching for approval or reassurance... The truth of the matter is simple. I have good days and less than days. Somedays, the dishes feel so monotonous, the whining unbearable, the day so long, the inspiration for dinner seriously lacking. And most other days, the sun shines in the kitchen, I hear a mockingbird singing on the fence, Beatrix is doing something or another crazy awesome, and I feel so blessed about it all. This IS what I signed up for kind of moments. Still I know I need to take Lori's advice and engage more in things that I don't feel 100% comfortable doing. Just to keep stretching. Just to keep in shape. Just to keep growing.  




 

On screen time.

A few weeks ago, I declared my blog controversy free...And here I am about to write out my thoughts on media and my child. Can it get any juicier?? Don't answer that.  

What a touchy subject, isn't it? It seems like everyone has a strong opinion on this one. People get defensive. Or feel guilty. Or feel helpless. I know one thing's for certain. Judgement gets us know where. Except to feeling yucky at the end of the day. 

I only want to share what Byron and I have learned through observation and trial and error as parents to a young child in the modern world not because I think we have it figured out. We don't. We fail often. I want to share because this parenting journey is such hard work and we do need support from each other, guidance, and most often, a listening ear. Neither Byron nor I, are quick to take on strict black and white views of the world. We tend to find ourselves frequently questioning both sides of an issue. It's quite easy to peer into someone else's windows, pass judgements and declare ourselves righteous. But at the end of the day, we can only take responsibility for ourselves and have compassion for our neighbors. 

Bea has had some exposure to TV. There have been seasons where it has been more prevalent. Yes, she'd watch a program or two a couple of times of week. As she has gotten older, she's often become fixated on wanting to watch more Curious George, Thomas the Train, or Caillou (those were what we have allowed.) Yet, ss she has entered the 3 year old phase, her will has become very strong, and she is not as easily redirected. We found our struggles were becoming more intense. Then, finally, after an indulgent week with family earlier this summer, we hit a wall once we were back at home where I knew that Byron and I needed to assert control over the situation. Though, we've never let her indulge at our house, it was beginning to feel like a constant battle that didn't need to be fought. 

So we cut out TV during the weekdays. Plain and simple. Even though the programs she has been exposed to have been as benign as they come, we chose this route because she's at a stage now, that if we aren't dilligent in our intentions, she would want to watch a lot more television. I was afraid that we'd lose control and that she would eventually be spending hours each day in front of the screen, watching programs that supported none of our family values and prevented her from her main tasks of playing and working. Then we'd find ourselves scratching our heads wondering where her newfound mannerisms and tones derived from.

For her, TV is very alluring and very impressionable. With the flick of a remote, she can be transformed from a particpating, active, verbal, musical, young child to one that is entirely passive. And passive is not who she is. She is not herself when she watches TV. 

And that's that. 

I like who she is. Even on the hard days. I like how eager she is to help us in the kitchen or with backyard projects. I like how she plays around the house with her Dolly, making up sweet and funny songs and scenes of daily life. I love her enthusiasm for riding her bike and her passion for books. I love her curiosity about the world, and her thoughtful wonderings about our existence. 

Don't be fooled into thinking I am not tempted to turn on the babysitter - often. Like any 3 year old, Beatrix can be an intense little person. Our days can be overflowing with emotions of every sort and conversations to match. There are times, I survive one breath at at time, digging deep to find every last bit of grace stored away inside my being ~ truly, every bit is needed.

TV is attractive. It can offer the much needed respite that so many of us parents need, especially by the end of the day. And I've taken it on days where there was no capacity for another creative option.    

However, since July, we've cut out TV almost entirely. We have gone for several weeks without her watching any TV at all. For the first week or two, it was a challenge. She cried and whined almost everyday to watch a program. But once she got out of the routine of watching her program, she stopped asking for it. During those parts of the day where she relied upon TV for entertainment, she began discovering how to fill her time with more play or creating her own down-time for herself. 

When I do allow for her to watch TV, she sees it as a special treat - not something that we just do, and not something that is a part of our everyday rhythm.   

We've noticed the more she doesn't watch TV, the more she doesn't think about it. The more she does without it, the easier it is for her to find creative ways in which to play in her environment. When I hear her composing songs, or playing restaurant, or mama and daddy, or snuggling up on the couch engrossed in a picture book I feel a great sense of peace knowing that despite the struggles of being a three year, she's doing alright. She is getting a chance at childhood. And I think that's the greatest gift of all.