Brave, Anyway

Tag: parenting

  • Honeysuckle

    Honeysuckle

    I have little-to-no sense of smell. Years of allergies will do that. Very few scents register for me, but among those I can always detect are garlic, an old drugstore perfume called Charlie, and honeysuckle.

    Honeysuckle makes me smile wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, every single time. It’s the smell of summer. The smell of simpler times, when kids – me – pulled on the stems and licked the tiny drop of nectar.

    In many ways, for millions of people, this is a very tough time. A time of sickness, anxiety, and fear. Death, unemployment, and hunger.

    In many ways, this is a complex time for me – although not in any of the scary ways it is for others. It’s a time of work at home and school at home and not going out to do anything at home, which is outside the comfort zone of everyone sheltering in this little corner of the culdesac.

    And yet, in so many more ways this is a simpler time. Walks and bike rides at night. Hanging around on the porch. Time to make dinner – meat and starch and veggie – on a week night, because my commute to home life is a short walk down the stairs.

    Although it seems like forever ago now, just a few short weeks ago in the office, I told one of my colleagues to practice the pause. Don’t be so quick to respond to everything. Don’t be so quick to make a selection without considering all options. Don’t be so quick to do *something.* Sometimes it’s better to do nothing and just give everyone a minute, because if we pause we often find that we – and others – will behave or react differently than if we rush to do.

    As it turns out, I needed to maybe give myself my own lecture. I think the main lesson of shelter-in-place for me is that I need to practice the pause more. I am very capable of doing that in my professional life but I’m not as good at boundaries like that in my personal life, even though the same principles apply.

    • I don’t have to respond to everything.
    • I don’t have to be the one to do everything.
    • I don’t have to attend all events or discussions I’m invited to.
    • The only timetable that’s really important is the one that’s best for me and the girls.

    Maybe the lesson of this unique time is that if we just practice the pause we can once again see the path to simple. Maybe even get back on it, so we can focus all our energy on what’s really important. Family. Faith. Presence. Giving. Our purpose and our calling.

    It’s very hard to see the road we’re traveling and the path we’re on when we’re going 90 miles an hour. At that speed, we see some of what’s ahead and maybe we look back and see some of what’s behind us, but we definitely miss much of the view right now. It’s when we make progress at a reasonable speed and remember to practice the pause that we can really be present for the important things. Skipping competitions. An extra long and silly grace before a Cadbury Egg. Sisters snuggled up working on math together. Friends laughing and racing bikes to the end of the street. The sweet taste of a honeysuckle stem.

  • Cloud-Clearing

    Cloud-Clearing

    A handful of realizations, some new and some just reminders, changed how the world looked on this cloudy day.

    This morning I listened as a third-grade teacher made Audrey feel incredibly special in a one-on-one call, scheduled on her own time just to encourage Audrey in her reading and acknowledge her hard work and progress. Distance learning is hard, and it’s especially hard for children that don’t love school. I could hear Audrey’s smile as they talked – about guinea pig names and video updates in flip grid and synonyms – and it brought tears to my eyes and just made my heart want to burst with happiness and gratitude.

    I also remembered, and it really solidified in my brain as I listened to them, that I’m not an educator. Ms. J is an educator, and I’m an emergency substitute. I’m not failing; I wasn’t designed to be an educator and I have no experience at being an educator. It takes a village of caring people of all different strengths and gifts to raise a child, and I’m just one part of that village. I am not the whole village, I cannot be the whole village, and I should not be the whole village.

    In my last meeting of the day one of my colleagues expressed this gratitude and even more dots connected for me: working from home is such a blessing because my children have a whole different Momma. This is true in so many ways. Of course I have time to cook more, but we also have time for daily walks or bike rides together. We work in the yard. We watch shows together. My girls are seeing a me that is less relaxed in a couple of ways, but ridiculously more relaxed overall. I can’t help but think of all my female colleagues who have children, especially little girls. Those children are all seeing for the first time how hard their moms work all day before they do all the Mom-stuff at night. What an opportunity we have in this unique time to show our children and talk to our children about realistic expectations they should have of us, and realistic expectations and boundaries they should have for their grown-up selves and their future partners.

    Which brings me to this gem: As parents, our job is to walk the talk, not just walk what’s convenient. We can’t expect our children to set realistic expectations of themselves and others if we don’t teach them how to do it and show them how we do it. We can’t expect our children to work hard if the example they see in us is laziness. We can’t expect them to know what’s right if we can’t do what’s right. We can’t expect them to do what’s right if we can’t do what’s right.

    I have a tendency to want to manage or fix things all by myself and then turn to God when I’m all out of information or tries or patience. I have a tendency to think I can juggle all the village responsibilities and then turn to God when I’m exhausted. I have a tendency to expect people to do the right thing because it’s the right thing, and then I turn to God when I’m exasperated and disappointed in people in whom I never should have had any faith. I pray, but I don’t always pray first. When I pray isn’t when God enters the scene – it’s when I’ve finally decided to stop and pay attention and remember He’s on the scene. It’s when I realize His presence that always was and is. That presence that is the game-changer and the peace-bringer and the cloud-clearer.

    Maybe a prayer isn’t where God shows up. God’s always there. Maybe a prayer is where I show up.

    It’s dark now, but only because it’s late not because it’s cloudy. The clouds cleared several hours ago, when I took a moment to show up.

    P.S. Krispy Kreme now delivers. To your doorstep. In under an hour. Proving that God really does listen to all of our prayers, no matter how ridiculous they may be.

  • Right-Side Up

    Right-Side Up

    I started a note in my phone a few weeks ago, on a day that I was particularly grumpy and at my max. A note of things to be thankful for, particularly in this day and in this moment and in this circumstance. I did the same thing a few years ago in the year that Audrey was not yet cancer-free, to help steer me away from negativity and nervousness, and to guide my focus toward the positives in each day.

    This morning I sat down in my yard with this handsome guy, who I’m thinking might be the father of an addition to our family, and opened up the note to add something – and I realized how long the note had gotten and for the first time reread many of the entries.

    Sometimes I hear Audrey talking to someone in her room and I get annoyed wondering who she could be talking to at such an early hour, and I start to grumble at her. And then I discover she was just bored because no one else was awake, and she’d called my Mom who she knows gets up at dawn each day. I love hearing those voices together, laughing, to begin my day.

    Audrey waits in the hallway upstairs, just outside the room where I work, for my daily 5 pm meeting to end. When it does end, she runs in and says Is it time for end-of-the-day hugs?! And she jumps into my arms and squeezes really tight.

    Ella, at midnight, stopping in my doorway to see if I’ve fallen asleep yet. Nite, Mommy. Love you. My 15-year-old still calls me Mommy, even in front of her friends.

    My sister, who I can always count on to give it to me straight, available during a moment of irritation to make me laugh by saying “slow your roll.”

    Covid keeping us home isn’t a terrible thing for a child that is a little more easily maxed out on people and noise. For the first time my child asked if I could help her remember a scripture about fear so she could say it out loud to help her focus/meditate. Many days I wonder if my kids just think I’m crazy and roll their eyes at me, and tonight was one of those times I got to see that they’re listening and it makes a difference.

    Neighbors who soothingly guide and encourage a frightened child about riding her bike. Ella patiently trying to encourage Audrey to look up at where she’s going while riding, so she’s less likely to lose her balance.

    It took a village but Audrey is riding her bike like a champ, and it’s awesome to see the growth in her confidence in the last 2 days.

    Being present to see the moment she “gets” a lesson. Being present to see the moment she finds her balance. Being present to see the moment of pride when someone loves her creation. Being present in the moment of excitement about a boy. Being present to see the moment of wonder at how a science experiment turned out. Being present to see the big smile when she got to see and hear her teacher for the first time in weeks. Being present in the moments of silliness between girls, and in the moments of laughing over stupid things with friends who are all on a group call. Thankful for presence.

    My friend of over two decades, another straight-shooter, who brought clarity to all my confusion and conflict with one sentence: “Sweep the leg of anyone that threatens (the peace of) Audrey. No mercy.”

    Time to sit and be still under my favorite tree. To listen to the soft sounds of my Dad’s bamboo wind chimes, currently in residence at my place. God’s prompt for me to look up at just the right time, to see my bald eagle soaring way above me, on the same day as my Facebook memories featured a conversation from 2 years ago about how eagles embrace the storm and adjust themselves to ride out storms.

    Thankful for Joy and joy.

    A glass of wine after a long week, sitting with my neighbor who listens and understands, and who allows me to tear up for a moment.

    What a hard and yet wonderful few weeks it has been. Everything seems like it’s been upside down, but after rereading my notes I’m starting to think that maybe it’s actually right-side up.

  • ETA Needed

    There’s actually a reward for being someone who focuses on self, and that’s that everyone around those types of folks expects very little of them.

    One of the greatest unfairnesses is that the people who hurt others are not the ones who handle the fallout or cleanup – they don’t ever see or experience the vast majority of the pain or of the healing process for those they hurt. The hard work, the help with recovery that takes days and weeks and months and years, is always done by others. It’s done by the consistent ones. The responsible ones. The ones who can.

    The privilege of being a helper comes with the burden of being a witness. If only you could promise those hurting a clear deadline for pain’s demise.

  • Quarantine Stream of Consciousness

    Quarantine Stream of Consciousness

    The Queen’s messages in the first month of this quarantine were the most uplifting and heartfelt of all the messages by world figures/leaders.

    Many religions have festivals which celebrate light overcoming darkness. Such occasions are often accompanied by the lighting of candles. They seem to speak to every culture, and appeal to people of all faiths, and of none. They are lit on birthday cakes and to mark family anniversaries, when we gather happily around a source of light. It unites us.

    I love that. Light unites us.

    The other thing uniting us is how ridiculous we all look in our masks. They are necessary to protect ourselves and others when we have to be out and about, and I know it is a very serious thing, but when people use bandanas as their masks I cannot even contain my grin. Every single time I see someone in a store with a bandana on their face it makes me think “bank robber!” And every single time I have to stifle the giggle inside me.

    I had to go back and double check, and I was surprised that my favorite bank robbers didn’t actually wear bandanas. I assume that’s because it would have been a crime to cover up faces that handsome.

    https://giphy.com/gifs/reaction-laughing-laugh-mcI308p0FcMjS

    It’s definitely time to watch Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid again. My most recent quarantine discovery that will come in handy for that viewing: the wine that best pairs with Krispy Kreme is pinot grigio.

    One of the ways I’m committed to being a professional and responsible adult during this time when all food and desserts are available for delivery is that I wear pants with a button 5 days a week, even though I’m working from home.

    And that brings me to I do not recommend Korean beef during a pandemic. It was something different and it was fantastic, so I ate a ton of it. But then the spiciness made me sweat, which made me think I had a fever, which sent my brain down a dark path for a bit.

    In one of those late night moments when my brain was unable to rest, I came across this gem and I keep coming back to it: Pray. Not until God hears you, but until you listen to God.

    Audrey is praying hard for a new pet and I am not sure which one of us God is listening to or which one of us is listening to God. I completely underestimated how much of an advantage the stay-at-home order gives to children trying to wear parents down about something. She initially wanted a hamster, and I won that battle by revealing their tendency to bite with very sharp teeth. But then she researched rodents/pets that might be more “docile.” Thank you, Virginia Beach City Public Schools, for encouraging a focus on vocabulary as part of distance-learning lesson plans and for the addition of that word to her vocabulary. Each day she’s reading new facts about guinea pigs and reciting them all to me, including through the door of my bathroom, and all the while she’s getting school credit for it. In summary, I’m pretty sure that I’m going to end up buying this child a guinea pig.

    There is noise all the time. Hoverboards and roller skates and televisions and iPads and lawn mowers and cats wanting to overeat and phone notifications. There is noise all the time. Someone is talking all the time. From the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep. And maybe even after, and I just am not aware of it. Because everyone on the planet is stuck in their house, and we are not interacting with friends and coworkers in the same way, everyone just seems to want to talk more – whether in person or on Zoom or on Facetime – and it’s exhausting. I need quiet, and my number one struggle of this time is that there is little-to-no quiet around me or inside my brain.

    This week I let my teenager stay up all night on Facetime with her gal pals because they can’t have sleepovers right now and she didn’t have schoolwork this week – and I think it’s quite possible she will remember those giggles and TikTok dances for the rest of her life. And you know what, judge-y Moms who have maintained bedtime routines, after feeding their children organic brussels sprouts? I’m not sorry. Kudos to those with a work and school schedule that’s neatly color coded on a white board in your kitchen. I fall somewhere in the middle of the human spectrum, with the regular mommas, between the girls capable of being an educator and the girls focused on their makeup and hair.

    This is the longest my hair has been since college. And it’s annoying.

    Mask made by my friend Vida at 406 Creative Vibe.