May 6 2013

Buddha Boots

In third grade I had the distinct realization my family was not like others. Obviously a little slow in my childhood, or just too busy with Barbies and baby dolls to notice, I finally had the clarity to understand how different my family was from my friends’. We did not go to church on Sundays and we ate a vegetarian diet. In that devastated moment I questioned why my parents would be sabotaging my chances at leading a normal existence. I can imagine my mom reassuring me in her usual calm and undisturbed manner, suggesting I can go to church if I choose and I can eat meat if I choose too. And so I did. I tried tasting meat and I attended Sunday school with friends a few times before deciding I wasn’t really missing much with either.

Into adulthood the urge to eat meat never reappeared and the desire to find religion, well that never presented itself either, except I am at a firm disadvantage when biblical trivia comes up in games or television trivia. Despite my lack of time spent in places of worship, my life was not absent of spiritual teachings. And as I learned more about religions in general, I found ideas based in the Buddhist traditions paralleled my own thoughts the most.

Still not identifying with any specific religion I decided to take a Basics of Buddhism class to learn about Buddhism, practice meditation and give mommy some required weekly time out each week.

Part of week three’s lesson covered the Four Nobel Truths relating to dissatisfaction and suffering. The Nobel Truths recognize how all beings desire happiness and peace even though the nature of the world is impermanent. In other words, what makes us happy and secure in this moment could be very different in the next moment since life is ever-changing. The Nobel Truths explain if you can recognize your attachment, delusion or craving for what is not present in your life you can relieve yourself from the suffering associated with it. Our thoughts revolving the attachment can perpetuate a negative emotion and the opposite is true by letting go of the attachment.

This principle can be applied to anything which causes suffering and it could be extremely useful if one could be effective at using it for major situations. Imagine if you could just let go of the attachment to a home following a foreclosure, a spouse following a divorce, or a loved one following a death. Imagine skipping out on the grief, despair and anger to move towards acceptance of what is present instead of what is missing.

Amazing, in concept, to have the power within my own mind to escape suffering. I’m not going to even pretend, after a few weeks of beginning to learn about Buddhism, that I could incarnate the patience and understanding of a Buddhist monk in the moment of crisis. I’m sure I would completely lose sight of these lessons and appear completely irrational should a tragedy occur in this moment, however, I have already had some real life application of this teaching.

Two days after my lesson on the Four Nobel Truths I was struck my the necessity to implement this strategy and acknowledge I was causing my own suffering. As so much of my learning is associated with my toddler these days she was also the target of this scenario. We had been shopping at a kids consignment sale, and with limited two-year old patience we managed to pick out a few toys and avoid the coveted riding toy area before we had to make it through the line to check out. The checkout line happened to be situated next to the long table of shoes. I’m usually not one to be interested in previously worn shoes and since my daughter’s Nana can’t leave a store without buying her a pair I hardly ever even browse. Except these red leather cowgirl boots caught my eye and I immediately envisioned these being beloved shoes she would want to wear with every outfit. I could picture red boots over leggings or with a jean skirt and a white t-shirt. She would be stylish and ready to hop on a horse at any moment. Excited by my finding I showed them to Parker and even offered her the choice in colors, and was thrilled when she agreed with the red.

When we got home I couldn’t wait to try them on, to watch the magic and celebrate our consignment sale find. The boots slid on easily and about as quickly as they were on she shook her legs to kick them back off. Without an explanation, she decided she would not wear them. It seemed the harder I urged, the frequency I requested and the more creative I tried to trick her into the boots only made her increase the stubbornness against it. After much frustration and disappointment I remembered the ideas of the Four Nobel Truths and recognized I was creating my own suffering by holding onto my attachment of the red boots.

We can spend a lot of energy being frustrated by things not going as planned, by failure or changes to our vision. And in some cases, if we really decide we don’t want to be unhappy, we can be mindful of what’s causing the suffering and let go of how we thought things should be. I let go of the red boots, I acknowledged my ideas of how adorable they would be weren’t worth the misery I was feeling with my toddler creating her own vision. I finally gave up on the boots and formulated the connection to the Buddhist teachings with this plan to write about it. When I set up the boots to take a picture, Parker suddenly regained interest. She pulled them from my picture set-up, sat down and pulled each onto their respective foot. I snapped a few pictures while she stomped and wiggled, then within minutes they were kicked back off again. After the little tease it was easier for me to remind myself to let go of the attachment – these little red boots were only meant to be a Buddha Boot lesson for me.

May 3 2013

Napping or Not Napping

Some days she just won’t nap, not matter how tired, she just won’t close her eyes. Since I am insistent on a minimum of some quiet time to ourselves, she entertains herself with a book or sings songs. There are days when this gives way to three hours of shut eye, and there are days when her stubborn streak wins out. Then there are days like today when she is near slumber only to be disrupted by my anxiety dog barking at the sight of movement down the block.

During the nap times when it ends up being an hour of vocal practice she usually is content in her room by herself contained to her pack and play we still have yet to escape (click here for the explanation.) One afternoon, following a sleepless nap, I entered her room to find she had emptied her sock drawer just within her reach, taken off her pants and pull-up, and pulled on some leg warmers.

Knowing she was caught, she immediately switched up her song and began singing “I’m so, I’m so sorry.”

May 1 2013

Lost Without My Mom’s

I hear a lot of women complaining about conflicts with their mom’s or with their mother-in-laws, and while any two people can’t see eye to eye on all issues I have to say I am eternally indebted to these two women in my life. I am continuously amazed and appreciative of the love and support of both my mom and my mother-in-law. Last week was another reminder of how I would be drowning without their help.

Parker and I both came down with stomach flu-like symptoms, except her illness came first and included some diarrhea and mild fever. When my flu came it hit me hard like a bad hangover only without the fun drunken state before hand. I actually had to run out of a wedding reception to get sick and thankfully crawled my way back into the hotel room we reserved in the same building to begin my flu coma. My mother-in-law had planned to keep Parker for the night to let us enjoy our evening as an adult couple, and despite my reservation leaving her in a not so perfect health I also knew there would be no better place for her to be than with her Nana.

When we finally made it home Sunday I quickly realized I was in no shape to care for myself and continue to clean up the messes in my daughter’s pants. On Monday morning I alternated between resting and preparing to go to my parents. It took all of my strength to get Parker loaded up and drive over to my waiting mom. She played with, toileted, washed and fed my girl for the next two days while I faded in and out of conciousness letting the illness pass. On Tuesday the symptoms of flu were gone; weakness from days with no appetite and great appreciation for my mom’s who helped me through the storm were what remained.

It still is astonishing to me how my body and my daughter’s body reacted to the same germs so dramatically different. Parker sang and danced through her flu, while I could barely stand. Is it a testament to her young healthy immune system and doing our best to protecting her from toxins for two and a half years? Or is it a sign of my emotional stress taking it’s toll on my physical self? Either way, I would be lost without the support of my mother-in-law and my mom and I am so thankful for them both.

Apr 18 2013

Hits & Misses

Spending all day with my sweet little girl it’s impossible to give her undivided attention all the time. It would be lovely to just get to play nanny and focus only on her, unfortunately I have to play housekeeper, cook, chauffeur, and house manager cohesively. This conflict of roles lends it’s self to many hits and misses as far as connections we get to have as mother and daughter thoughout the day.

We both have times when we deny each other’s affections, when the opposite is fulfilled by a task. Like this morning while she ate her breakfast I began preparing a crafting collage until she finished eating and promptly decided she needed to be sitting in my lap. I held her off with distractions in her own chair as long as I could and somehow she ended up crawling her way back into my lap, blinding my efforts with scissors and paper with her curly brown locks. Eventually I gave in and assumed the project would have to wait. We pulled down the Play-Doh for her to roll and press shapes, this time it was her brushing mommy’s affection. It’s just so hard for me to resist her enthusiastic smile and positive energy, I want to swoop in to her kissable cheeks and savor the moment. And as if she suddenly incarnates a “too cool for parents” teenaged attitude her shoulder comes up to block her cheek – too busy for a kiss right now.

Those moments of craving attention are frequently coorelated with times of being tired or hungry, and when this is the case there is lot of whining involved. My response to the whining is encouragement for her to use her words, and when that doesn’t seem to make an impact I tell her I think she might be tired and needing a nap. This technique usually works since naps are the enemy and she would never volunteer herself for one. Except since this has been my response to her whining, she has begun beating me to the punch. She informs me: “I’m going to take a nap,” when I have repeatidly told her I can’t hold her while I am cooking. She doesn’t actually take a nap though, she just leaves for a minute and usually brings back a toy from her room.

I have to learn to not be hard on myself about the misses. I can’t entertain, hold, clean and fix everything for her and I have to be okay with her being upset about that sometimes. It makes it easier to accept the rough parts of the days when there are so many hits of the days to look back on and appreciate.

The mornings we stay extra long in bed pulling the covers over our heads to play with a flashlight. Dancing in our living room for hours on end stomping, twirling and shaking with laughter and songs. And closing each day with reading books, snuggles and kisses. There are so many moments when it’s just me and Parker, when I am completely present with her. In those moments she heals me from the chaos of life, problems in the world and the grown up worries which consume my mind most other waking hours of the day. For now though, I had better go finish my collage while she takes her nap.

Under The Covers

Apr 15 2013

Like Mother, Like Daughter and Daughter

“You have to slow down and watch what you are doing,” the words escaped my mouth echoing from my own childhood. My mom would calmly and assertively interfere in careless actions or growing frustration with this statement. Now decades later with my own child it seems an automatic response, my mom’s words filtering through my mouth. When I first noticed this and other comments I have relayed to Parker, I couldn’t help to stop and think I am turning into my mom.

I know this thought evokes a comedic horror for many, the idea of resembling parents. For me, the thought of turning into my mom carried a chuckle in a different sense, there is no way I can live up to who my mom is. It would be a blessing if I could maintain a portion of her patience, an ounce of her generosity, or a sliver of her organization. I envy her diligence and work ethic while I have mastered procrastination – efficiency under pressure. She is the most dependable person you will encounter, and since she is a horrible liar you know you can trust exactly what she says she will do. There are so many incredible characteristics my mom emulates, it wouldn’t be a burden to be more like her. So I guess if I mimic some of her phrases, that’s just fine with me.

Nana & Parker

If I do my job right, decades from now, Parker won’t mind repeating my words either. These days she is constantly cracking me up with the things I tell her for encouragement or warning which get reflected back to me. Parker congratulates me with “Good job Mommy,” when I use the toilet. She cautions me to “Be careful Mommy,” when I am mopping and the floor it wet.

I so appreciate the statements from both my mom and my daughter. It’s a small reminder of the beautiful generations of women in my family, strong influences who have shaped who we are and how we think.

Apr 13 2013

Rainbows After The Storm

This week started out with heavy storms, both literally and figuratively. Last Saturday I woke up with a horrific headache and no pain medication in the house to take besides some heavy post-operative pharmaceuticals I didn’t think my ailment called for. With my husband gone to an appointment I did my best to prepare a suitable breakfast for Parker and then sit as still as possible at the table while she ate. It seemed any movement would send a shooting pain and bending over was agony. I rushed my daughter, as much as a two-year old can be rushed, to hurry her eating so that I could get back to bed. I sadly denied her requests to be picked up or to sit on my lap because it hurt too much. She cooperated with my ailment, as children mysteriously do in times of need. We finished in the kitchen and retreated to my bed where she sat quietly watching Elmo while I lay, eyes closed hoping my husband would be home soon. The throbbing got to be too much at one point and I rushed to the bathroom to get sick, Parker calling on the other side of the door to see if Mommy was okay. I crawled back to bed and text Reggie to get home as soon as possible.

I didn’t leave my bed much during the weekend, hurting and frustrated at having to cancel all of our weekend plans. The anger I felt from the wasted time of having to lay there, when I had so many things on my to-do list not getting accomplished, probably made my head even worse. By the time my migraine was subsiding on Sunday afternoon my body was achy and weak. Despite having to suffer through the weekend the bright side was it happened on the weekend and would have been more difficult to interfere with Reggie’s schedule during the week to have to take care of Parker. He did do a great job taking care of Parker too, even utilizing ‘phone a friend’ to find out how to take the day old french braid out of her hair.

With the week starting out so rough I didn’t have high expectations there would be much happening this week. I was pleasantly surprised to have three big rainbows after the storm.

On Monday, back in touch with life and people, I learned my cousin had passed her test to begin an instructorship path recognized by the Thai Boxing Association of the USA. She first told me of this test back in December painting a picture of a long examination of strikes, kicks and grappling lasting hours. Had I been present to observe, the violence would have left me cowering in a corner rocking with my head between my knees. Surrounded by peers, valued instructors and the founder/director of Thai Boxing Association she was honored with the title of Khru meaning teacher. I am so proud of her for this achievement, not only because she honestly has the strength in her tiny frame to kick ass, this accomplishment means so much more about her endurance to overcome obstacles she has in her life. Truly amazing!

My second rainbow came from a friend sharing some bun in the oven news. She and her husband are expecting and I have been trusted in her closest circle to hear before it’s made public (so shh, this is a secret.) I’m ecstatic for her to begin the adventure into parenthood and to help her as much as I can (with advice from long distance) dealing with the pregnancy ailments. Feeling sick , feeling tired, back pain, side pain, urgency to pee, loss of sleep, loss of appetite, increase in appetite, swelling, sweating, being easily irritated and no glass of wine to fix it – I don’t know how women can love it!? The enjoyment I found in being pregnant came with the movement, first just tiny flutters, then kicks, somersaults and finally and obvious cramped space where neither of us could move much. Although I wasn’t a woman who loved being pregnant, I wasn’t in a rush to deliver her because I knew for that time only she was all mine before I would have to share her with the world.

And finally the third rainbow came last night in the form of a proposal. My little sister, Heather, and her long-time boyfriend, Kyle, are officially getting hitched. I happened to be at my parent’s house when she called to share the news. When my mom began shouting into the phone “Really? Really?” I immediately assumed my brother had hit it big calling from Vegas. She put it on speaker phone and we all celebrated with cheers and tears. When my mom continued the jumping and cheering after the phone call Parker looked at her shaking her head “Silly Nana,” she said before joining in with “Hooray” and dancing.

Ironically I had just been thinking of Kyle earlier in the day counting my brothers and sisters. Biologically I only have 2 siblings, all together I calculated six wonderful brothers and five beautiful sisters I recognize as my family. Kyle has been my brother already for years, it never mattered what their legal status was. We always knew they would live a happily ever after together, now there will just be a party to celebrate it.

So with the start of the week wrecked, I am ending it with a smile. Life is beautiful.

Apr 4 2013

Sentimentally Adorable

“Dressing her in ‘Little House on the Prairie’ again?” my husband remarked at the sight of our daughter dressed on Easter morning. Without clear intention to find this dress I stumbled upon it the night before in a box my mom had given to me. The box contains my three decade old baby book, a kindergarten t-shirt, a hideous beaded shirt friends signed at my 9th birthday party, and countless school and girl scout projects. The real treasures of the time capsule are the clothes my mom made for me when I was little including a lavender dress with white smocked pinafore. It may be slightly home on the prairie, still it is too sentimentally adorable not to have my daughter wear it too.

We had a family celebration on Saturday at my parent’s house where Parker wore a new, very cute, brightly colored, springy dress. Then Sunday our plan was to go back again for dinner with more family. Despite there being plenty of dresses to choose from in her closet; I opted to take it back to 1986 or 1886 depending on how you look at it. I knew no one else cared what she looked like on Easter and my mom would appreciate and love it.

Finally with spring weather arriving we were able to play out in the yard on Sunday morning. Her Easter basket from Nana contained some fun outdoor activities like bubbles and chalk. Parker also got her first glimpse of flying a kite, though with trees and power lines constricting the yard it wasn’t as entertaining as I remember from my childhood. She was delighted watching me run back and forth across the yard to get it up a few feet, and when it was her turn she was thoroughly disappointed when she didn’t get the same result. Perhaps another try in a park or open prairie would be worthwhile.

Out of curiosity…

Would you dress up your child in

something you wore at their age?

Mar 31 2013

Not Quite Ready To Grow Up

My Bye Bye Bye Baby post (here) may have been a little too premature to celebrate. I boosted about Parker’s progress in potty training, going without a pacifier and abandoning her crib all in one week. Turns out she is not exactly ready to shed her baby skin completely. Maybe it was too much too soon and once the thrill of it all was gone she decided growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be… At least I feel that way sometimes.

PJ did well in her toddler bed for several nights, maybe even a full week, with no problems. And amazingly she still called in the morning, from her room, to let me know she was up instead of charging through the door. Taking naps in the new bed became a challenge, as predicted, she petifully looked at me with her head tilted to the side reporting “I’m not tired mommy, I don’t want to take a nap.” Then as I told her she could just lay down for some quiet time then (hoping a change in the name might change her attitude), this frequently ignited a brief crockadile teared tantrum clearly insinuating the need for a nap. For days Parker was able to escape taking naps just for the simple fact of not being able to keep her horizontal long enough to doze off.

Eventually Parker began leaving her room in the morning too, discovering she could hop right into mommy and daddy’s bed when she wakes up. It was fun at first, a little bit of snuggle time before breakfast. Then morning after morning she came in earlier and earlier until our usually late sleeper was now rousing each morning at 6AM. Too tired to even calculate how we were going to curb this new behavior and determine who was going to have to adjust – her or us – then the night of doom happened.

The day was normal, the nighttime routine was normal, by all accounts she appeared healthy and content when I put her down to bed. Then two hours after she had been sound asleep she woke up crying. Daddy addressed her crying and she went back to sleep, two hours later the same thing only this time we had gone to bed and she met me at my bedside. The rest of the night was more up and down, screaming at my bedside and exhausting any idea of what could be wrong. It felt like I was back to having a newborn to care for again except this newborn sprung from bed and hopped into my face to let me know she wasn’t sleeping. We took her temperature, rocked, changed pull-ups, drank milk, laid in her bed, and tried for about an hour of the night to see if she would sleep in my bed. The night was a blur of activities, screaming, scattered sleep and no clear idea of why it was all happening.

The next day when she continued to plead for no nap she was not tired, I knew she had to be exhausted. Again, she was not cooperating with the need to stay in bed so I offered her the option of sleeping in her big girl bed or a pack and play. I offer her choices a lot of times to try to employ her to make the positive choice, she often chooses the other option to see if I will carry through with the consequence. So, out the pack and play came since the crib has been disassembled and stored away. The afternoon after the night of doom she slept a good nap in her pack and play. And since then the pack and play has remained set up in her room, next to her toddler bed and she continues to choose to sleep there for night time and naps.

Maybe it’s more comfortable to be enclosed? I don’t know why it’s her preference for now, as long as we don’t end up shipping the pack and play away to college later on I suppose we are okay.

Mar 26 2013

Dollhouse Foreshadowing

My sister and I spent endless hours playing with dollhouses when we were little, I’m talking NASA astronaut training hours. Our first dollhouse was constructed by my mom from a wooden craft kit. The four room house was decorated and redecorated by painting the interior, gluing felt for carpeting and paper on the walls. We bought furniture and accessories down to potted plants, tiny picture frames, dishes and tea cups. Later we planned to add to our dollhouse neighborhood and each bought our own craft kits for additional houses. My house, like many of my master-minded projects, never got completed. I lost the directions and the beginnings of a large three-story house remained untouched in my parent’s basement for nearly 20 years. Call it divine intervention interrupting either mom’s ~~hoarding~~ reservation in throwing things out or my inability to follow-through with projects; the remaining contents in the doll house kit got wet in a minor leak in their basement and the house was finally set out on the curb.

The clean up effort lead my mom and I to rediscovering the remaining dollhouses last week. I assumed at some point I would introduce my daughter to the houses, thinking maybe when she is a little older. Two years old is too young for the fragile old wood, it doesn’t light up or make sounds like other plastic houses she’s seen, and all of the itsy-bitsy accessories to keep track of is enough to cause me an aneurism. In a few years I figured she would love the houses. Then as quickly as the dollhouses were at table level and within reach, a childhood wave of sentiment rushed over me and I couldn’t wait for her to wake up from her nap to come and play.

My mom and I sorted through the miniature time capsule of our youth, cleaning up, dusting off and discarding what was broken or not worth keeping. My sister was mighty pleased, back in the day, to use some creative skill in making her own dollhouse furniture. Foam haphazardly covered in fabric as the bed would have been fit for a dollhouse equivalent to a crack house. There were a few surprises in the excavation of the houses which ironically seemed accurate in our lives today. My sister’s house was filled with pets, including two tigers. This spring she will be completing her vet tech degree and the journey to get her there was inspired by her time working with the tigers at Endangered Animal Rescue in Citra, Florida. (Click HERE for more on that story.) My sister plans to work with a zoo veterinary department and continue her passion with big cats.

The other foreshadowing shock from our childhood houses, we found a black family. In our suburban caucasian home I can’t remember or imagine why we had purchased a black family. Perhaps my sister and I needed a way to distinguish who’s dolls belonged to each other? Were we impatient with a store who ran out of white families? Could it be my sister and I wisely saw a value in increasing the diversity in our dollhouse community? Whatever the reasoning was back then it has long since been forgotten and I’m sure my twelve-year-old self would have never been able to know she would one day fall in love and marry a black man.

With the components freshly sanitized, small accessories stored away and rooms reconfigured the houses were ready. I barely withheld my desire to wake my daughter up to come and play… Finally she arose and joined us downstairs to get her first glimpse of the hand crafted childhood treasure. Parker jumped right into investigating the pieces of furniture, opening the refrigerator, rearranging the living room, and pointing out the bird-cage. She opened the toilet seat and promptly put the little girl on it, holding the “mommy doll” near by to applaud her when she finished. Dollhouses may predict the future and when a two-year old plays it replicates her present life with plenty of potty practice.

If you are interested in having your own fun with this creative and playful hobby you can find doll house kits online or at craft stores like Hobby Lobby or Jo Ann ETC. In the Kansas City area you can check out Mini Temptations at 3633 West 95th in Overland Park, KS for a greater variety of houses, decorations, furniture and accessories you can see first hand.

Mar 23 2013

Two words, out of the blue.

Behavior is lawful, I learned this phrase when I became an instructor for Positive Behavior Support. It has been a long time since I have taught the class, however this phrase always stays with me. In short it means no behavior is ‘out of the blue,’ as we sometimes describe actions of others. Any action an individual takes is a response to something whether we are aware of it or not, the trigger could be anything in the environment noticed by our senses, a reaction to another person’s behavior or behavior can stem from a thought.

There have been many occurrences, since by daughter began speaking regularly, where I would have been caught off guard by her simple communication. Sometimes it’s while I am driving the car with her behind me in the car seat sitting peacefully observing the scenes passing outside her window when I hear the two words in her sweet high-pitched voice, “Thank you,” she says. She is very polite expressing thanks to family, friends and strangers on a regular basis; it’s the times when there is no apparent prompt for the comment I am boggled by. The comment appears to come out of the blue, except I know behavior is lawful and it must have a purpose.

I’m so curious at the thoughts in her two-year-old mind which evoked this comment. She didn’t get anything, no compliment received or favor helped. Is she thanking me for the ride, praising me for being a safe driver? Is she as appreciative to get out of the house as I am? Was she just trying to start a conversation to break the silence and these are the words others respond to? And then my mind takes me to wondering if it’s simply a thank you for being, kids are present in a way we lose as life gets more complicated. They are not congested with the volume of thoughts, opinions, data and stresses we have in our adult minds.

Without having the words to provide an explanation, I am left to imagine. Her enduring two-word expression, when the environment is otherwise silent, has developed meaning for me even when I don’t know what it means from her. It’s a reminder to focus on the present, no moment is ordinary, I need to appreciate it all.

Inspired Living KC

Inspiration can come from everywhere, you just have to slow down and notice it..

Category Family