You Have Permission

To the family sharing space with us, the other day at the dentist, my heart broke for all of you. 

As you held down your children, as they screamed and fought to sit up, my heart broke for you.

As you spoke angrily at them, as if they were the trouble, while smiling and commiserating with the hygenist, my heart broke for you.

You were outwardly angry & impatient, yet your energy was sad & embarrased. My heart broke for you.

I've been there. I've been in a situation - watching, doing, responding - when nothing felt right. It feels wrong. All wrong. On many levels. 

So, as I watched your struggle, and the struggle of your children, my heart broke...for you, and for me. For in my judgment of you, I felt the judgment against myself. I've been in your shoes...responding as a parent, but responding in a way that is totally wrong for my child(ren.) 

And then one day, I can't recall when, I heard a voice in my head saying 'You have permission.'

You have permission to say no.

You have permission to take a break.

 

You have permission to question.

 

You have permission to walk away.

You have permission to stop, take a breath, take a walk, STOP - if it will help your child feel safe, comfortable, and respected.

To the parents that shared space with me, the other day at the dental office, I whisper encouraging PERMISSION to respect your children, and their fears, and their boundaries, and their light. 

It's ok. Really. If you are doing something, and internally you want to puke because it feels so awful and wrong, than stop. Please. Just stop. And hold your children until you both feel better. 

Here's an excerpt from a letter I wrote six months ago to this same dentist, regarding one of their techs. Just an example of how you can speak up and OUT for your children...and the next child.

  I was in most recently on Monday of this week with my youngest children, O and D. O needed alot of encouragement as he was very shy and anxious. I do not remember the name of the hygienist that was assigned to him that day, though she was familiar and I think we've had her before. She was quite nice to him, and always spoke in that happy, sing-song voice that you seem to think puts children at ease. However, as he continued to struggle with the appointment (a simple cleaning, but he is only four, and this was only his second time there,) the tech began to use language that felt demeaning. Statements like – ‘Oh. You don’t want to be a baby. You don’t want to cry. You’re a big boy right? Only babies suck their fingers. Only babies cry when they get their teeth cleaned.’ – and when talking to his sister, since she was already finished with her appointment, quote – ‘I heard you were really good at your appointment. See, O, you want to be just like your sister don’t you, you aren’t a baby, are you? I always knew girls were smarter…’ (D is a girl, and O’s twin sister.)

 Although I can understand what the tech was trying to accomplish, I regret allowing it to continue as long as I did. Quite honestly, I regret not immediately STOPPING the cleaning and respecting O’s wishes for some space. I think I was in a state of shock. I did soon stop the cleaning, and acknowledged his worry, and his valiant attempt at getting through the procedure. I found the tech’s use of language demeaning, and unacceptable, and sad, for O. In my family, we celebrate babies, and we’ve taught our children that a crying child is nothing to resent, but someone in need of help, love, and encouragement. I felt the tech was trying to ‘guilt’ or embarrass O into a less-stressful emotional state….less stressful for her, perhaps, but at the cost of my son’s natural inclination to communicate his emotions of fear and anger. He was fearful to begin the appointment, and became angry as he was being made fun-of by the person trying to persuade him. Fear is the birthplace of anger. He is such a smart boy…I’m confident that, as an adult, this tech wouldn’t stand for a person invading her personal space, all the while being ridiculed.

 I hope these criticisms are taken with gratitude, and as an opportunity for some positive-language/language-sensitivity education, and perhaps re-evaluation of how children are sometimes treated in the office. As stated in the beginning, I have had very good care in the past. And my other anxious child had a very patient tech when we were in two weeks ago. And O was seen by Dr. R and she was most patient with him…even when he bit the mirror and cracked the plastic.

I plan to write another letter, encouraging more training for staff on how to encourage parents to stop, and take a breath, and respond to their children with empathy and patience. It would have been beautiful to hear the tech say, 'This young guy needs a break. I'm not comfortable with this cleaning, if it requires force to hold him down.' 

Sometimes we just need to hear it.
 
'It's ok. You have permission.'

You. Have. Permission.

The Good Life 10.27.2013

the good life is about being grateful

  being present in the little things

remembering to breathe

resting in the seat of joy

it's Fall!

leaves are turning. mornings are CRISP COLD!

we're nearing the turn from hours upon hours outside, 

to hours - upon hours - inside.

it's an adjustment for all of us, and one that i only just realized.

Fall - the season of transition.

the season before the dormant.

the season to reflect on the bounty,

and prepare for the barren.

i love this season. 

through the death of life, 

comes the beauty in life. 

mother nature is so damn smart.

these four

these are the people that fill my day,

my hours, 

my minutes...

my moments.

these four are the reason there is little time for writing.

no time for writing, 

but abundant time for 

dreaming,

being,

learning,

listening,

celebrating,

loving.

living.

through them, i will live the life of my dreams...

dreams that have little to do with money,

or profession,

or location, 

or recognition.

  

 this is me, dreaming

WHAT IF?

yeh, what if?

what if it all turns to shit?

what if all my fears come true?

what if the world is that dark, scary, irrational 

pit of doom most of media wants me to believe?

what if?

or..... or..... or..... or.....

what if it turns out beautifully?

what if my fears can be given some space - 

a breath,

a thank you,

a 'don't worry - i've got this...'

what if i just don't listen to the 'pit of doom' coverage?

am i naive?

am i irresponsible?

is my head in the sand?

perhaps. 

i'll just be here...

giving some space to my worries,

and witnessing them 

as they blur

into simple flashes of color and thoughts,

 as i dream of a life...

a life i am living.

  

this is how we do it

forget the lists.

forget the formality.

forget the measurements.

remember the fun.

remember the creativity.

remember the learning.

the learning

that happens

when you 

just live. 

thank you, mother nature

found on an old tree

lining the road to the farm.

a rolling road

that always gets the kids giggling when their bellies

head into their throats. 

most days i drive a little fast

on this back country road.

until now.

until we saw this.

this lichen.

it's magnificent.

strong.

sturdy.

as big as dinner plate, if not bigger.

amazing how it can be so strong,

yet so far out from the tree.

this lichen,

just reaching.

growing outward.

this is how i feel some days.

just reaching.
growing outward.

a solid connection to a grounded life,

but reaching just beyond...

 i love this lichen.

the small, in the big
someone recently reframed my thinking.
when things feel HUGE, find respite in the small.
when you are weighed down by the small,
find respite in the big.
the yin & yang of life.
i love seeing this in my day.
he may not be reading,
but he just offered his sister his love, and his hand.
she may still panic,
but she just told me exactly what i can do to ease her worries.
life goes fast.
life plays fierce - all for keeps!
some days you have to focus on that one small spot,
to regain your balance.
other days,
you simply have to throw yourself off that edge,
blissfully filled with the unknown.
these small, warm lights 

offering a gentle start...

to another big day.

the small, in my big.

 

it's a good life, in these moments.
in trying to understand myself,
while understanding my kids.
in trying to create a life for my family,
while making sure there is play-dough and paint.
in trying to breath,
while having my breath taken away.
such a lucky life.
it's a good life.

sketch of a mom

After reading a great post today from one of my favorite blogs - dear-mom-this-is-real-mom-sketch    - I took two minutes and walked around the house taking snapshots of what it REALLY looks like around here. It's Monday, today, but these pics could be any given hour, any given day.

 

 this is my 'real-mom-sketch'

a moment in time, 

showing my house for what it is, right now.

dirty dishes.

askewed science.

bathroom ruckus.

nightstand mayhem.

OR

i could desscribe it this way...

a humming home, with

time enough for cleaning, and

happy children, with

joyful energy, living

imperfection at it's finest, and

vulnerability to the core.

i am trying, so desperately, to make time stand still -

not so they won't grow, and live, and learn, and leave, and be -

but so that i can just breath-in these moments, 

and live, and learn, and (eventually) leave...because i was able to

BE.

 

The Good Life 3.20.13

the good life is about being grateful

  being present in the little things

remembering to breathe

seeing joy

quotes
i'm a quote kind of girl.

they are everywhere, in our home.

 my kids will have memories of quotes on the fridge,

on the mirrors,

on windows,

on the clothes washer,

in my car,

and in their lunch boxes.

 not in all these locations at the same time, but...

quotes are BIG, in these parts.

and this quote, this one, speaks especially clearly to me.

there is alot to parenting, and our lives, that are intangible.

  the best i can do is

hold the vision, trust the process.

 

my four
 ha! THESE four.
four blankets.
four different teas (must be to taste.)
four mugs.
four seats.
four sets of hands.
four sets of feet.
four needs.
four joys.
four gifts.
four dreamers.
these four.
my dreams, to the fourth power.

  

 what leprechauns do
in this house leprechauns live on sticks,
and are the cobblers to our beloved fairies.
these three popped-up in various places in the house,
throughout the week of St. Patrick's Day.
merry-makers, these little guys. 
i just smile looking at them.
something about their little hands on their hips...
as if to say, 'come on...what could go wrong?'
not that my four need any nudging;

 there's plenty of mischief, regardless of green clothes and gold buckles.

it's a good life. even with a late winter snow. a blustery first day of Spring.

a diagnosis of Strep after an entire night awake.

it's a good life BECAUSE of these things,

not in spite of them.

it's a good life in all the middle moments...

between the call to doctors and the trip to the pharmacy.

the bird-watching from the sofa, in the morning...

before the warmth of the bed-covers has dissipated from their young little bodies.

the good life lives in those moments between -

'please put down your toy before you spill your milk.'

and

'would you like some help cleaning up your milk?'  

it's a good life.