Be in Wonder

I am in wonder

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 13:31:00 +0000

This morning I am in a state of wonder at the beauty of the world my older son constructs for himself.

In his world:

* a large ball of multicolored play dough placed on a stick becomes a flower

* a rock becomes a frog

* a collection of beans becomes a world of dirt and trees

* the paper recycling becomes snow

* hands become spiders ...

Most of these become gifts:

*"Can I give this flower to Aspen?"

*"I have a little frog for you, Mom."

*"Can Boden play in my dirt?"

*"Will you come in the snow?"

*"I need to give this spider to Elizabeth."

I invite each parent to put aside his and her ideas about what balls of dough, rocks, beans, paper, and wiggling fingers means to you and instead ask your child what these things are to him or her.

My child is far more than a person learning from me the right vs. wrong things to do in this world. My child is a world unto himself. And right now I am in wonder at his world and all the beauty therein.

Be in wonder at the world in your child, and then explore your world through his or her eyes.

Virtue of the week: Friendliness

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 14:01:00 +0000

I am happy to be posting again on this blog. Now that I have a laptop and can type in the living room, where my children relax and play, I will have an easier time writing.

Friendliness and community:

As a young childless couple, my husband and I bought our first home based on the "this is it" feeling we shared when we saw it. It was an adorable 70-year old cottage with mature perennial beds that just about anyone would have fallen in love with. With one 10-month-old child, we bought our second home based on finances, we both agreed it would be a good investment. Today, with one preschooler and one baby, we plan to buy our third home based on community.

The home is far from ideal: It lacks the curb appeal that attracted us to our first home and the price and location that attracted us to our second home. It does have, however, wonderful neighbors.

Already, my older son has friends with whom he goes on trips to the zoo. Already, I have neighbors who call me when they need a break from their children (and vice versa). Already, I've connected with others about the importance of nurturing the souls of our children. During the afternoons, the parents are outside with the youner children so they can play and get their energy out between school and dinner. In the evenings, the children ride bikes and play kick the can in the street.

Sure, the home needs new flooring, faucets, doors, and other minor repairs here and there ... but it comes with features no builder could customize: a feeling of community.

Many families today live away from their extended members, a built-in community, and haven't made the time to connect with their neighbors. They're trying to do it all on their own. The mythical wonder mom or dad feels like her biggest tool is her blackberry. My ideal of a wonder mom or dad's biggest tool is her community of support.

My focus the next two weeks is on community and relationships as my family explores the virtue of friendliness.

Virtue of the Week: Joy!

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 04:56:00 +0000

Joy is the childlike glee that bubbles up from within us. It radiates from the Natural Child, the part of our Child ego state that is spontaneous and relishes life. Joy is more than a state of unbridled gladness and glee, however, it is an energy. Joy's energy is expressed in many ways.

"I don't know how to dance," my three-year-old son says. Already, I see in him concern about doing things the "right" way and want to give him ideas to overcome his young internal critic.

"Dancing is smiling with your arms and feet," I tell him. "Smile with your body and you are dancing. See!" I start to wave my arms and kick my feet.

What? chimes an internal voice I recognize as my Critical Parent, the structuring an reprimanding component of my Parent ego state. You can't mean that? You can't dance yourself ... I turn up the music and toss aside the seasoned critic as my son and I kick and dance with joy about the kitchen.

This week, the virtue of focus in my home is joy! Follow my family's journey to shift any energy we direct toward petty criticism of ourselves and others to the expression of joy. I'll explore how energy directed towards others (even when "true") that results in gossip and backbiting squelches our own capacity to feel and express joy.

On this Monday morning my son and I will focus on the letters J, O, and Y with this worksheet and we'll define joy. I am curious about his joy. I can see clearly the joy in his face, but I wonder what words he'll choose to discuss this virtue.

Tonight I'll design a joyful soundtrack for us to listen to. You can help! Post below the songs that bring you joy ... the ones that bring a tap to your foot and a wiggle to your hips.

Where can you use a little more joy in your life? Was your Thanksgiving meal joyous? Let's talk! And if you have pictures that captivate the word "joy" then link us to them in the comments.

Tuning in to our Children

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 13:30:00 +0000

Tune in to simplify parenting and enjoy our children!

Four months ago, my family moved half-way across the country. My three week old rode with me in one car while my husband drove our other son and two dogs in another. I led the way and stopped when the newborn baby needed food, which often was every 30 to 45 minutes.

You may imagine that this was a long, annoying trip dictated by the cries of a child who'd rather be held than harnessed. You're right about one thing: the journey was long. And it was enjoyable!

The secret? I tuned in ...

Like most breastfeeding mothers, my milk comes in just before my child cries, or even starts to fidgit, to let me know he's hungry.

While driving, I noticed my milk's arrival 5 to 7 minutes before my son would cry. When I listened to my body and pulled off at the next exit, I often stopped the car just as he was starting to fuss. Then we'd sit in the car as I peacefully fed him.

There were times, however, that I didn't stop.

"He can't be hungry AGAIN!" I protested internally as I kept driving.

Those were the times that he'd work up to an anguish-enducing cry. I learned more than ever on that three-day trip to trust whatever it is that bonds me -- body, mind, and soul -- to my child.

I respond emotionally and physically to both of my sons.

"When you're staring at Boden, do you ever feel like there's a third person in the room?" I asked my husband yesterday.

"Honey, this sounds a little sci-fi."

"Seriously, when I look at him -- and Wesley -- and we're engaged with each other I feel like the space between us is energized and electric, like it's something else all together."

"I am serious, that's one of those sci-fi thoughts about the mysteries of how the world works."

"I don't know if it's how the world works or just me. I hope it's how the world works and that everyone feels this. It could be described as a third person, or one less person; that something between us is created or that something between us is dropped and we are one."

"Yes, I know that feeling."

We both know the value of tuning in to our children. Beyond listening to them and watching them, there is something else going on, some other way that we communicate. Somehow, we are linked to them. When we tune in to it, our role as parents is easier.

Last week our family went to a museum. My husband and I wanted to stay until it closed so we could listen to live jazz on the lawn. Normally, this is just the thing that our older son would enjoy. But something told us staying was not a good idea. We thought about ways around our gut feeling and knew that it could work. But at what price? we wondered. Ultimately, we listened to the little voice inside each of us and went home before the music started.

"I'm hungry! I want to go home!" Wesley screamed on the way home. "Eeeee!!!" he shrilled. My ear throbbed.

My husband and I looked at each other and didn't need words to know the other's thoughts: We made the right choice.

As parents, there are books, gadgets, methods, etc., that can ease our work. The best tool, however, allows us to prevent some of that work.

When we tune in to the parent-child bond, we simplify our parenting. And we make the long journey before us enjoyable!

If Parents Wore Capes

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 13:44:00 +0000

If parents wore capes,
we wouldn't have a cleaner house,
but we would be more inclined to ...

chaseour children into chance rain
roof a last-minute retreat
play impromptu peek-a-boo
snuggle them close and stare at the stars

If parents wore capes, we'd
dry the tears
draw the laughs
capture the wind
and help them sail ...

*****

Wonder Moms and Dads don't wear capes to move faster and be stronger, because how much we "do" does not make us "wonder"ful. Nope, we wear capes to "be" in wonder at the world with our children -- and at the world withIN our chidlren.

Parenting With Abundance

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 15:13:00 +0000

As I started to move forward in applying to classes next semester and to doctoral programs for next year I started to panic.

"How can I possibly have the time and energy to go to school and take care of the children, and clean the house, and have time for myself, and devote time to my husband?!?!"

The reality is that I have investigated my potential schedules, talked to current students, and know that there is time for me to add classes and research to my schedule. I'll need a little help here and there, but nothing that a pre-screened babysitting service can't help me secure with comfort. So why panic?

Whenever I find a feeling that doesn't seem to fit the situation I ask myself, "How is this familiar?"

"How is panic about time and energy familiar?" I remembered. I'll spare the details, but will say that most everything we did when I was growing up came at the price of being "overwhelming" "exhausting" etc. Even today there are people in my family who report being overwhelmed and exhausted every time I talk to them.

I remember the first time I heard someone say, "The more you do, the more energy you have." I thought, "No, the more you do, the more exhausted you are."

My role as a stay-at-home mom is a great test-bed for the theory. I find again and again that I function better, have more energy, and get more accomplished in all aspects of my life when I have more to do. Having more to do requires me to structure my days better. It also encourages me to make the most of the time I have. I wake up earlier, spend more time getting ready, find I have time to read, get the children ready, have breakfast prepared, etc. ... I tend to be a step ahead rather than a step behind. And I also cut things out that I don't need: TV especially comes to mind.

So, even though I know that the course work I am hoping for will likely give me more energy and, yes, more time, I panicked.

In essence, I have a long-held belief that time and energy come in very limited quantitites when in reality, except for unusual situations, they are not only abundant, but increase in abundance with proper attention and care.

Somehow, despite evidence, the old thoughts remain part of my psychological environment. And, somehow, I was willing to stop myself from moving forward by focusing on the old beliefs rather than trust my own reality testing.

I think that I'm not the only one in this situation. I think many of us believe that various commodities -- time, energy, love, attention, care, guidance, etc. -- are limited when in truth they are abundant. And I believe that we let these outdated beliefs stop us from moving forward.

I suggest that if we listen to how we are stopping ourselves (what we say in our heads to and about ourselves/others/environment) that we will discover where our perceived scarcities lie. And if we start clearning them out and replacing them with perceived abundances we'll find what we want and need to move forward with our dreams.

*** This is a very rough draft of my thoughts, but in light of the fact that I haven't posted in so long, I am eager to click "publish now" and then come back to poilsh.***

Let's Talk About Scarcity

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 12:53:00 +0000

I've been thinking about scarcity and how we let ideas about scarcity stop us from reaching for our goals. The following posts will be a series of questions. Please respond with your answers in the comments section.

Fill in the blank:

Growing up, my mom/dad/other important figure complained, "I don't have enough _____(A)_____ to _____(B)_____."

A: Time, Money, Energy, Intelligence, Beauty, etc.
B: Fill in blank with dream, goal, etc. Examples: Go back to school. Feel safe. Hang with that crowd. Apply for that job. Build a boat. Go on vacation.

Don't let the above examples stop you from going with your first answer. These are just examples, there is no wrong response.

Or perhaps you heard the reverse: "I'm too _____(A)_____ to _____(B)_____."

Feel free to answer this way too.

Thank you for taking the time to answer. Further posts will tie this in to the theme of scarcity and how we are stopping ourselves and teaching our children to stop themselves from reaching for their dreams.

Joy in Prayer; An Update on Reverence

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 15:36:00 +0000

A butterfly emerges:

When our son was younger, my husband and I hoped that he would want to pray rather than pray because we wanted him to pray. We made prayer time a joyous time and avoided telling him how prayer should sound or look. We delighted as he shouted ("We hear your enthusiasm!"), sang ("We hear your creativity!"), and danced to prayer ("We see your joy!"). Little did we know that this joy was a silken cocoon.

At three years of age, my husband and I decided to cultivate reverence during prayer: we wondered what would become of the joy that our son expressed so freely in his loud voice, his made-up tunes, and silly dances as we showed him how to sit and sound.

"Who would like to pray first?" I asked as my husband and I sat holding imaginary frogs on our son's bed.

This was the third night of our focus on reverence. During the first night, our son sat still for about 20 seconds. We congratulated him for his stillness. The second night, he wasn't still, but he was quiet -- for about 30 seconds. We congratulated him for his silence.

"Me! I want to pray!" my son exclaimed.

I wondered how this would go.

I watched as my son placed his cupped hands where his crossed legs met, sat up, closed his eyes, tilted his head upward, and said in a voice so soft and sweet that each word fluttered lightly across my heart, "Oh, God, guide me, protect me ..."

My husband and I looked at each other, smiled, and closed our eyes to better capture the moment.

When our son finished praying, he looked at us with enthusiasm and beamed with joy.

"That was beautiful," my husband said as he hugged him.

"Would you like to say the next prayer?" I asked my husband.

"I want to," our son said. "It's my turn again."

"OK."

Again, without prompting, he settled into a reverent position, softened his voice and spoke words that flowed like butterflies from his heart and through his lips.

"I enjoyed your reverent prayer," I said as I hugged him.

"Me too," my husband said. "I'll pray next."

"No, no more prayers," my son said.

"OK, this is a really good place to stop," my husband said.

My husband and I caught each other's eyes and with a knowing look said, "But this is just the beginning ... "

Somehow, letting him cultivate his joy for prayer, created the cocoon for reverence ... we saw it emerge and take flight.

Virtue of the Week: Reverence

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 05:01:00 +0000

Fertile soil: fertile soul

"Reverence," I explain to my three-year-old son, "is holding a frog in your hands."

"A frog?" he asks. "I think it's when I hold a lobster."

"OK, a lobster. Reverence is holding a lobster, or any animal you choose to imagine, in your hands."

My son clasps his hands together and says, "I got it! See? He's right there, Mommy." He opens his hands to share with me his imaginary crustacean.

I could have told him, "Reverence is a calm respect similar to that which I observe in you when you are in and around nature." The frog example, however, held direct meaning. It gave him a specific body memory. It also told him how to hold his hands.

"It's time to pray. Do you have your lobster?"

"He's right here," my son said as he put his hands together and placed them in his lap.

"Are you ready to sit in reverence and pray?"

"Yes!"

*****
(At home.)

"Oh, God, guide me," I start a prayer.

"No, say, 'Oh, God, educate these children,'" my son interrupts.

"Sweetheart, when a person is praying, mommy listens and talks to God with her heart. Will you listen and talk to God with your heart when I pray?"

"With my heart?"

"Here," I said as I picked up his hand and put it to his chest, "do you feel that? That's your heart."

"Om, I want to talk to God with my mouth."

"OK, when it is your turn to pray, use your mouth. When others are praying, use your heart to listen and pray along."

*****

I don't know how one teaches reverence or prayerfulness to a child. I know how to encourage certain behaviors and obedience to our family rules ... but reverence, an inner respect that radiates outwards. How does one teach that? I prefer to think of it as something I am awakening in him ... I picture an emerging butterfly.

We can give him cues:
"Now is the time for reverence and prayerfulness," I can remind as we tuck him after stories and song.

He can observe it in others.
"Do you see that man? He is sitting and praying reverently."

He can hear the word when he shows reverence.
"I see you are looking at your pumpkin patch with awe and respect. Isn't it nice how the flower seemed to come from nowhere, but all along its potential was inside? There are many mysteries in life!"

"I see you sitting with your hands together in your lap as you listen to daddy praying, you are showing reverence."

*****

(During a service.)

"Mommy, I'm finished now," my son says -- loudly -- and not with his heart as someone else is praying. "I'm ready to go play with the toys."

"OK," I whisper into his ear. I take him by a hand and lead him to the toys. We sat on the floor and started a puzzle. "If you want to talk with your mouth as others are praying, then talk," I switch to a whisper, "like a butterfly."

"OK," he said in a whisper.

"Congratulations, I hear you talking like a butterfly!"

"I want to talk like a Wesley now."

*****

I want the word to have a meaning ... so I invited the outside (flogs and butterflies) in so that he can learn to bring the inside (calm respect and awe) out.

*****

Rather than sing "you are my sunshine" my then two-year-old son sang "you are my dirt, my only dirt ... ." Why? Well, he LOVED playing in dirt. One day, he replaced the word "dirt" with "God" and sang, "You are my God, my only God, you make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my God away."

I delighted in the fact that my son had spontaneously created a song about God, a song that showed me he equated God with the joys he gets from playing outside in nature's fertile soil.

As he sang, I sat in wonder -- with reverence -- at the fertility of his soul ...

I believe the reverence I have for the wonder that is my son will bring out in him his own calm respect and awe at the world around him, and its Creator: God, the Source of all things.

Structure Says 'I love you' and 'I See You'

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 11:29:00 +0000

... as you are and as you can be.

"I wish my parents had challenged me," a friend of mine said.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah, no matter how I did in school, my grades -- even all Cs -- were fine with them. They never told me that I could do better than that. I'm kind of sad about it."

As we talked I imagine a climbing rose bush in full bloom.

"I get that. It's like they never said, 'I see your potential.' A gardener wouldn't challenge a plant to grow up a trellis if he didn't see its potential to climb. Helping children find their gifts and offering structure for them is central to parenting. Showing that we are OK with where they are and inspiring them to get to where they want to be says 'I love you' and 'I see your gifts'."

I heard, "You can be anything you want to be," growing up. I found it to be a crippling refrain primarily because I wasn't permitted to want. And I wasn't provided structure. (Luckily, there were a couple of trees in my environment so I found my own way.)

Growth requires a balance between nurture and structure, a balance between "I love you," "I see you" and here's your trellis, together you'll learn to climb it. One day you'll bloom.

What do you consider to be your natural gifts? Are you in bloom? One of the best ways to show our children how to bloom is to bloom ourselves: to know our gifts, and to use them.

How Dare You Be A Child?

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 04:34:00 +0000

"If you didn't get your face so dirty, I wouldn't have to scrub so hard."

It was often when we were in our natural child ego state that the adults in our lives corrected our behavior. Sometimes the attempts were obvious: "Stop laughing, you'll wake your father," and sometimes they were more subtle. The message above could easily be translated to, "Joy comes with a price."

If you have quieted your laugh or squelched your joy, reach back inside and find it ... likely, the only parent around to reprimand you for laughing too loud or being dangerously joyous is in your head -- and you can send that one packing any time you choose.

Often, when we find ourselves upset at our child's spontaneous behavior, we are responding to behavior that was not allowed from us by our parents.

The more we allow ourselves to be in our natural child ego state, the more we'll allow our children to be in theirs.

Wonder Mom Wisdom

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 14:58:00 +0000

Wonder Moms (and Dads) ask
for 100 percent of what they want,
100 percent of the time.

They realize that:
*The person they are asking has the right to say yes or no
*The answer is for that moment, and may change at a future date
*The answer "no" is not a rejection of who they are.

(Inspired by the Cooperative Contract.)

(Editing original post to expand:)
My intention is not to encourage a culture of wanting. I'm pointing out the importance of everyone's voice and goals in negotiations, especially family and couple negotiations.

My husband and I grew up very differently: He has no problem asking for money to take his various exams toward his professional goals. In fact, we both take it for granted that his goals are worth other sacrifices. At the same time, I used to feel guilty asking for the smallest of things for myself even though we could afford them. I didn't see the value in caring for myself and my goals because I didn't really value myself and my contributions. That has changed. (It was a process, I had been so cut off from what I want for myself that I had to cut through a large field of indecisiveness.) Now, I share my wants -- from time to take a shower to my career aspirations -- with my husband, and I see how our family lives will be enriched.

Do you find it hard to ask for what you want, or even the things you need?
Let's practice: Respond right now listing one of your heart's desires: I'll start.

Playing a Friend's Game

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 22:41:00 +0000

Girl Talk Wednesday

I am answering a question over at Naturally Estes:

In her October 1 Girl Talk Wednesday post (yes, I'm almost a week behind!) Brittany asks:

"What are 5 things that make you feel so good about yourself...what make you feel like a true Lady?"
My Response:
1. Using white embroidered cloth hankies.
2. Wearing my hair half up and half down.
3. Wearing dangling earrings.
4. Eating ice cream with a silver dessert spoon.
5. Chatting by a breezy shore with my best girl friends.

So, which of these have I done since I've become a mother?
1. Check (don't you know a mother's tears can flow)
2. Check (now that I'm growing out my hair again)
3. Check (wearing some right now)
4. Check (though I'm thinking about trading the dessert spoon for a serving spoon)
5. Hmm ... not since I spent New Year's Eve at Bald Head Island. I was pregnant with my first son at the time. I think I need to phone some friends and schedule some time away at the beach!

Tips for Encouraging Creativity in Your Home

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 12:49:00 +0000

A Little Inspiration

As mentioned in Boys Before Blog, I haven't taken the time to research the subject as I would like. Due to family illnesses and a general interruption in schedule because my husband is studying, we will focus for two weeks on the virtue creativity.

Here are my two cents, prefaced with a favorite quote:

When I am working on a problem I never think about beauty. I only think about how to solve the problem. But when I have finished, if the solution is not beautiful, I know it is wrong. -- Buckminster Fuller

I love the above quote and use it guide many of my endeavors. For instance, some would say that a spotless home is beautiful ... but if I look around and am not seeing smiles on my children's faces, something is wrong. Right now the cushions are off my couch (again) and the blankets are on the floor along with some other pillows as my older boy journeys through space spotting planets. Not quite beautiful to everyone, but certainly beautiful to me. Part of filling a home with creativity is letting go ...

I just searched on Google and found a lot of official-reading blog sites and essays about creativity. They all look very useful. The following may not be useful, but these are my two house rules on creativity:

1. Follow their wonder. Children don't have the same filter that we do ... not yet, at least, so enjoy the world through their eyes. For instance, I saw a box and thought "recycle"; My then two year old saw a boat, so I stopped what I was doing and helped him build one.
2. Be genuinely curious about their world: Instead of saying, "Look at this mess you made!" ask out of awe and wonder in a delighted whisper, "What are doing?" You just might hear,

"I'm playing in the snow at Nana's."

At first glimpse I saw 1. a project (the boat) and 2. a mess (the shredded documents). Through the wonder of my son's eyes, I found something "beautiful" and I knew that it was "right." Don't worry, not all creativity comes with a mess, but childhood drips and when we accept it and give children a little room to wonder, we allow space for their natural play and creativity to flourish.

Where is the creativity in your home? Do you find it difficult to let go sometimes and "follow" their lead? What about your creative hunches ... find them hard to follow?

The Problem With Tomorrow: It's Always There

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 03:12:00 +0000

If only I had a dollar for every time I heard the phrase "I'll start tomorrow ... "

Growing up, everything enjoyable came with a bill that was due "tomorrow." Just eat a piece of candy? Start a diet tomorrow. Just spend money? Start saving tomorrow. Watching T.V.? Start exercising tomorrow. Just yell at the kids? Parent perfectly tomorrow. Trouble is: There is no perfect diet, savings plan, exercise routine, or parenting. Even if there were, life is sweeter with dessert. The other trouble: Tomorrow is always there.

The journey from jotted thoughts to printed word involves revisions of revisions and so on and so forth -- unless, of course, one is writing a blog. Sometimes I edit my blog posts and sometimes I don't. Sometimes words flow as I ride the wave of inspiration, and sometimes all I get is perspiration as I stare at a blank screen and wonder if I'll ever write another comment-worthy post again.

I was just thinking about how parenting, and any sort of relating to other people for that matter, is much like writing. We say and do things that when replayed sound awkward or could have been said more efficiently. Sometimes I even find myself in complete disagreement with the words that just "flew" out of my mouth. The good news is that just because we can't erase, scratch through, backspace, or "control x" and "y" our way over what we just said, doesn't mean we can't change it. The art of editing starts with awareness -- so does the art of relating.

We can't undo the harsh words or go back and soften our brows, but we can decide to change. We can decide that next time we'll take a deep breath, focus on the moment, and ... whatever comes next. The whatever is up to each of us to fill in, however we'd like to be that we aren't.

We can't erase the past, but we can interrupt the story and take it in a new direction. Each moment offers the same potential as the imagined blank slate of tomorrow. The problem with saying, "I'll do better tomorrow" is that tomorrow's always there so there is no sense of urgency and no incentive to change.The here and now, however, requires constant motion to capture ... it is where change occurs. It is in each moment, as we face it, that we choose who we want to be and how we want to relate.

So in order to be a better parent, a better me, I will
1. let go of the past
2. forgive myself
3. stop waiting until tomorrow
4. be present to each moment
5. decide to do things the way I want to be.

Thirty Minutes to Call My Own

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 23:48:00 +0000

In all things: Balance

I get thirty minutes of unstructured time a day. Sometimes more, but right now my husband is studying for his boards. Once he passes them, we'll be back on normal operating procedure. Until then, I'm with the boys the rest of their waking hours. As much as I adore our time together, I find that I enjoy it more when I carve out a piece of the day for myself.

So, I was wondering, fellow moms and dads and friends with full schedules, how much unstructured time do you get to yourself and what do you do with it? Is it enough? Do you stay up late or wake up early to get it? I am specifically using the word unstructured to describe this time because I don't include the time I walk with the dogs or the time I devote to exercising and prayer as unstructured ... it's general maintenance of body, mind, and soul as far as I am concerned.

Do you feel guilty taking time to yourself? What would the ideal 30 minutes to yourself look like?

Boys Before Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 14:24:00 +0000

The post that accompanies this week's virtue, Creativity, will be late as I am tending to two sick boys. In the meantime, we're enjoying a lot of play and imagination in my attempts to keep the older boy away from his friends. I am amazed by his high need for stimulation even though he doesn't feel well! It's quite a challenge to my creativity to entertain him while bouncing the baby.

I snapped this picture just as my three year old was about to catch a sneeze.

From Doing it All to Doing Alright

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 22:03:00 +0000

My friends were right: Transitioning from one to two children was harder ...

"Ha!" I thought. "The worst is over: I know how to make it on four hours of sleep, how to shower and dress in five minutes, and how to cook with one hand. I've got the gig down."

"Mom," my three year old says, "It's my turn to be close."

"Your brother is nursing, he'll finish in five minutes, until then you may sit on this side of my lap."

"But I want all of my mom. It's my turn for all of you."

*Gulp.*

When I had one child I thought I could "do it all." I realize now that the adjustment with two isn't about me and my readiness to get to the children, it's about them and their unmet wants and needs. It seems like someone is always waiting for me.

So, yes, the transition was harder, but the outcome is a much richer learning environment. I have learned to tap my support system and my son is learning more about family: That all of our wants and needs are important, and when we work together with cooperation and patience, we can find a way to meet most of them.

I think the trade-off isn't so bad. He's growing up and learning about the world. I am learning that I don't have to "do it all" right to be alright.

Parents: Teach Your Children (and Yourself) How to Fail

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 13:02:00 +0000

Fail to succeed.

I was just reading and responding to a blog post titled The Nature of Life at EnRoute365 when I thought: "I wish my parents had taught me how to fail." There's a wealth of knowledge waiting with every wrong step we take -- if we know what to look for and how to get back on our path (or find new shoes for the new path).

The goal to be perfect in everything is a heavy set of chains that keep us from reaching our true imperfect potential. I'm willing to trade in my perfect dream for an imperfect reality and ready to show my children how the latter is much more fulfilling!

Is "failing" OK in your home? Was it growing up? How do you respond to your children and yourself when you take a misstep or trip and tumble all together? What do you feel now as you think about going for your dream and not getting it -- this time. Do you ask for what you want if there's a chance you won't get it?

(Perhaps of interest: Marriage and Perfectionism, PSA: Perfectionism Strictly Abandoned, Cue the Lightbulb!)

"Sigh"ns of Change

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 23:08:00 +0000

When arms don't reach, use legs.

I spent some time recently with someone who wanted to go to the store to get a couple of items, one of those items was diet soda. We went to the store and as I shopped for my items she looked at the checkout line for her drink. It wasn't there.

"I'll shop around here while you go to the aisle to get the soda," I said as I admired various dangling earrings.

"No, I don't need it."

"But you want it."

"Yeah, but it's not worth the trouble." She let out a sigh.

Then memories of similar situations flowed like waves into my mind, one after another -- scenes ending with a sigh. Together they formed an entrenched life pattern -- and I recognized hints of the pattern within myself.

Even now as I lay out my plan to get the credentials I need to have the job I want, a part of me feels as if my very attainable goals are out of reach. And as I look at everything I have to do, all of which is doable, I just want to give up.

Well, frankly, my goals are out of reach. But that's no reason not to get off my rear and walk over to where I need to go to get what I want! Certainly, my legs work.

So, what's just beyond your fingertips? Are you doing anything to get it? If not, how are you stopping yourself? I'm done stopping myself ... join me ... listen to your body for every sigh ... and turn it into a sign, a cue that maybe you too just need to walk a few more aisles for exactly what you want, because no matter how big or how small -- it's worth it.

Weekend Wonder -- Upside Down World

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 12:35:00 +0000

My mom and sister watched my boys so I could attend a workshop this weekend. (Thus the delay in this Weekend Wonder post.) Not even a boring hotel room could squash the wonder of childhood fun. While standing in front of my sister, my three year old grabbed her hands, walked up her legs until he was upside down, and then flipped back down.

Tuesday's Thought: A Peaceful Home

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 11:55:00 +0000

Find peace within, and don't let go.

It's easy to feel peaceful when all is going well at the pond: Nice day, warm waters, light breeze, etc. Then a stone or two, no three (don't they seem to occur in threes?) is tossed in and all of a sudden the ripples are knocking. One asks: "How can I find peace when there are ripples in my pond?" In a pond, ripples are strongest at the surface. Sink a little deeper, calm and tranquility await.

*****

I worked at a newspaper when the war with Iraq started. Everyone around me screamed for peace. Those same people would take turns talking behind backs about each others' faults.

How does peace at a global level have a chance when we don't have it at a local level? In our own homes? In our hearts?

I want my children to know peace: inside our home, inside of them. I'm not talking about a surface level tranquility. I'm talking about knowing how to work with others toward a common goal even when those others have extreme differences; how to acknowledge their feelings and reactions to others and not let that stand in the way of a connection with them. After all, no matter how things appear on the surface, go deep enough, and there is potential for human connection.

Yesterday I wrote about a man on the plane. At first I was angry at him. Then I realized I was afraid of what it meant about me that he didn't like my son very much (and really, who could blame him?). Once I gave myself permission to feel good about my parenting, I did. Once I gave him permission to be annoyed at my son's behavior, I saw him as a separate human. In that separation I felt a connection. After all, I certainly relate to being annoyed at children (especially my own *gasp*).

*****

What does peacefulness look like in your home? If your heart or home does not feel peaceful right now, what information is missing and how are your allowing that to stop you from feeling peaceful?

Virtue of the Week: Peacefulness

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 13:47:00 +0000

I woke up in my own bed this morning, and after five weeks of separation, my husband was by my side. Now I sit at my computer with a cup of coffee. My house drips around me as the boys play and coo by themselves. My home is peaceful.

Or is it?

I just returned from a workshop in redecision therapy, requiring a trip by plane to North Carolina with my 3 month old and 3 year old. The boys didn't make a peep -- not a cry, not a kick, not a scream -- on the way out of town.

The trip home was different. The baby cried for milk while my three year old kicked the seat in front of him and tossed screeches into the air. While some people around me smiled knowingly and said they had been there, the three men in front of us were not happy. After many unsuccessful attempts to quiet and calm my son, I leaned forward and apologized to the man directly in front of my son. With a dagger glance and a scowl his face said, "How dare you? You disgust me. Go spank your child into submission." His look reminded me that his feelings are not my concern. I returned my attention to my son.

And rather than threaten him or spank him, my attention was loving and nurturing as I asked him how many fingernails I had (he already knows I have five fingers). He stopped and counted. I asked him if he remembered hunting for frogs with the boys in our neighborhood and how many frogs he thinks he'll find next time.

"I think I can find five frogs," he said. My tactic to transfer his energy from his emotions to his thoughts seemed to be working. "Do you remember that I had the flashlight and the other boys didn't?"

"Yes, I remember that."

"And do you remember we had to watch out for snakes?"

"Yes, I remember that too. I see you have calmed your feelings and are using your words. Congratulations."

"Om ... I think next time I want to take the blue flashlight and ... "

As he talked I fed the baby and noticed that I was relaxed. I checked out my body and didn't find any tension. I checked out my mind and didn't hear any negative thoughts about myself, my children, the people around us, or our destinies. I checked my feelings and I felt happy, no, I was beaming with joy.

My son has had a rough three months and just when he had found his rhythm with a new brother, a new home, and an absent father, I took him on a trip. He acted out. How natural! And I was comfortable with his normal behavior and the fact that I didn't have any control over him or the people around us.

The trip out, I realized, was not peaceful: It was easy peasy. While the boys were calm, my mind raced. It raced about the workshop I would attend and if I would remember anything from "that" world (the thinking about theory one) after such a long hiatus. While my body was on the plane, the calm around me allowed my mind to be somewhere else. In that somewhere else I created all sorts of scenarios about how my trip could go wrong. I imagined the negative things people could think about this stay-at-home mom and her idle attempts to keep up her learning.

The trip home, with all it's cries, kicks, and screams, was peaceful despite the circumstances. If you've ever been scuba diving, you know that even as the surface of the water chops, just a few meters below, wait peace and tranquility.

Part of peacefulness has to do with that calm place that is at our core no matter what is going on around us and part of it has to do with being in the here and now. Unless it's found within, and unless it's now, any "happy place" is a temporary escape.

Back to the peacefulness of my home: Yes, it is peaceful, not because all is quiet on the outside. Rather, because all is quiet on the inside.

Is all quiet on the inside of you?

If not, what are you saying about yourself, those around you, and your destinies?

I'll Be Your Ruby Sneakers

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 18:00:00 +0000

I'll be your sneakers, ruby red.
So when upon me lays your head,
You will find that you are home,
No matter where we roam.
And
Come the day that you are grown
These ruby sneakers will become your own.

My sons and I are in the town we lived in two months ago. I thought my three year old would be delighted to see all of the things he remembers from his life here.

He's terrified.

"I just want to go home, to our house with the black car and the white care, and the upstairs and the downstairs!" he exclaimed over and over until I stopped what I was doing and held him tightly. Then he sobbed. I told him that we would go home in three days. He placed his hands on my neck and quieted.

"We will go home in three days. Until then, Mommy is with you and you are safe. Your home is safe."

He fell asleep in my arms.

Tuesday's Thought: The Water of Life

noreply@blogger.com (Beinwonder) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 00:16:00 +0000

When I plant a seed I water it regularly: even when there is no sign of life coming forth from the ground. Then the seedling breaks forth, and I continue to water the plant until a full plant emerges and its roots are finally deep enough to draw its own water from the earth.

Children are like plants. And prayer is like water.

Like plants, sometimes its hard to see past the dirt, beneath the surface to the potential inside. It's easy to give up watering them. Also like plants, when nurtured regularly, children bloom.

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