A Safe Haven

Over my life, I’ve had various places where I feel a hint of magical dust fall upon me. It’s usually when I’m in nature or with those whom I love. I have a sense of peace. I am fully present. My mind is not divided between different spheres of time, which is typically the future for me. I feel the freedom to be me. Sometimes it’s when I’m sitting across from a friend who seems to know my words before I do because they are feeling right along with me. That’s home to me. I remember going for walks in Grand Rapids and finding a quiet bench to sit and write while being surrounded by the trees, the wind, the smell of cool air. That was home.  Several years ago I was driving home from a counseling session and I left knowing myself more, figuring out who I was a bit more. That felt freeing. That felt like home. 

One of the hardest things for me as a parent is how much my kids fight. I didn’t grow up in a family where we fought, at least not outwardly.  I have a personality (maybe we all do)  where I do my best in a safe, quiet, peaceful environment. Add kids to that. Yep, bye bye to all of those things. If home can be a feeling of acceptance, freedom, peace, and being known, then what are my 4 walls on Yale Street?   What can my kids expect about this environment as they walk out of the garage and down the hallway to our kitchen?  Is my home a place where mistakes are looked at as a learning opportunity or failure? Is my home a place where we can be goofy and won't be made fun of? Is my home a place where we don't have to have it all together and will not be lectured for being imperfect?    I dream that the rooms in my house to be a place where my kids belong. The world is tough, their days at school can be challenging. Grace came home livid yesterday because of a situation that happened at school. I want her to know that when she gets home, she will be protected from the pain of the day. She will be comforted and listened too. No more struggle, no more fighting to be noticed, no more having to prove herself.  She can find comfort on our couch and cry or laugh. She can be messy. She can be real. She can be Grace.  Home is where I want her to feel. To be.

I recently read that identity is discovered in relationships. Our children are becoming aware of their bodies, creating their own thoughts and opinions, becoming more of themselves as time passes and settling into their own identity. They are transforming into who they are and what they think of themselves.   What I say or do when Grace sits next to me with tears in her eyes and pain in her words, gives me the opportunity to embrace her little being and to affirm. To love. To accept. To encourage. Her identity is being formed daily in these 4 walls. What am I saying that is shaping her self talk and what she things about herself?

If I had a genie, I think I would ask that my kids never fight again. I want my home to be a place where my kids would protect one another rather than fight for their own personal gain. I desire my house to breath forgiveness and for my children to fill their lungs with mercy.  Who and what my kids think of themselves is crucial. Maybe one of the most important things we can focus on. Not some shallow self-esteem talk, but instead a deep sense of belonging and assurance of who they have been created to be and how they are unique and can bring goodness to this world. My hope is that my children experience more and more glitter dust moments that create a safe haven for them. I want them to feel glimpses of being known and knowing others.  As they learn about themselves and become familiar with being ‘home’ I can then gently speak to my children and tell them to be ‘home’ to those around them.

To the parent who has a challenging kid

I was great with kids ever since I was one. I am a teacher at heart and have had plenty of experience dealing with all kinds of children and temperaments. I love kids!  Mike and I were in Jamaica last weekend and we were poolside when a few young boys kept splashing around us. They were each trying to keep the cup in their hand above water and Mike asked them what they were drinking. They kept sipping and enjoying the cool water while the sun beat down on them.  We looked at each other and chuckled and I told him I didn't think they heard him and that is why they didn't answer. He suggested I give it a shot because our running joke is that kids hear me and somehow flock to me.  So I asked the boys what they were drinking. They turned towards me and took the straws out of their mouth and said they didn't know but that it was good and then they went back to sipping and splashing around.


Even though I love children and am good with them, I experienced quickly as new mom that I could not control my children. This was a shocker for me so I began to ask older women for their advice. I would excitedly listen to them hoping to hear that my child was normal and anticipate getting a golden nugget of guidance that would help my wild child. Over time, I realized the advice was usually tailored to what worked for them and their child, all while I felt missed and  still struggling. Although I am grateful for these mommies and for their time, I didn't feel any sense of hope or direction for my personal situation. They didn't understand my child. They didn't understand me. They didn't ask me any questions about by little one. Instead, I was given suggestions of do's and don'ts and I had already tried those. I'm the queen of brainstorming and love coming up with systems for children. I don't read a ton but when I do it is most likely about child development. As a new mom, I thought many thoughts and felt many feelers.  Am I the only mommy that has a child like this? I'd read an article about strong willed children and the words would come off the page and resonant and a piece of me felt understood.  Is my child the only one who seems to not feel remorse? I was afraid to plan a play date because I knew that when it's time to go my child will throw a huge fit and I was left feeling exhausted and humiliated. Why does my child lie so much? Is this normal? Is she ever going to change? Am I doing something wrong?  The other children don't seem to struggle with this. There can be so many thoughts and feelers going on inside a parent's head.

If I could go back to the 25 year old Sarah with a one year old I would give her a hug and hand her a plate of brownies and a cup of caramel macchiato from Starbucks.  I would slow down the moment and look her in the eyes and tell her that I see her- I see the sacrifices she makes, I see the worry she feels, I see her exhaustion and her effort. I would listen to her. I would be quiet. I would tell her all the amazing things I see in her child. I would hope to encourage her in these 5 ways. 

1.  You are not alone. You are normal. Your child is normal. Your story and your child's unique situation is not an accident and both of you are being weaved into this beautiful story of growth.

2. Stop comparing. I know that this is a hard one, Sarah, and you will probably compare the rest of your life but know that it will never satisfy your insecurity. Instead it leaves you feeling either superior or inferior. And I know for you it is usually the latter. Be in the moment and accept it as it is. Accept your child as she is.

3.  Confide and open up to a friend that doesn't judge you. A friend who drives with curiosity and has empathy as its passenger.  You don't need a pragmatic friend but instead a friend who goes deeper and hears through your words and sees your heart.

4. Don't be afraid to get professional help. It doesn't mean that something is terribly wrong or that you have messed up. Getting help doesn't label you.  You may end up learning something you didn't even know was out there to learn.

5. You can't control your child but you can grow. You give everything to your child. And as much as you want to help mold their character and manage their conscience-you can't.  So much of this parenting thing is about your growth and journey so take a moment for yourself and reflect. The more you learn about yourself, the more it will help you be an effective mom.

So maybe our kids aren't the ones that are calm and we won't get comments on how well behaved they are when leaving the playground. But it's the crazy kids that are dreamers. It's the hitters that end up standing up for social injustice. It's the biters that speak up for the underdog. It's the  ones that push the boundaries that don't give up and are persistent. My difficult kid can bring me to tears and cause me to question my parenting but that child is full of life, opinions, courage, exploration, curiosity, and he is fully human and was knit together just the way God intended.  One last thing I would say to Sarah is to see the good in them.  Be their advocate. Embrace all of who they are and who they are becoming.

FEEDING MY KIDS TOO MUCH HAPPINESS and how the Bachelor gives good parenting advice

I’m embarrassed to admit that I am a Bachelor lover. Yes I watch a show where 20 year olds, who apparently don’t have to work for a quarter of the year, put on all their makeup and show America their best selves.  The message that all these singles communicate when they have their few minutes of fame is that they just want to be happy. If they could just find love then they would be happy. “What a stupid idea,” I have thought many times. Marriage isn’t only about happiness. I talk at the screen saying, “You’ll always be disappointment and crying like Ashley if happiness is your standard.”  

What makes my kids happy?  With limited lawn space for our kids to run freely around to explore, our kids enjoy the things we do have outside which is standing water along our curb. This is a breeding ground for tadpoles. They squat down in the street, squeal with excitement, and scoop up these little swimmers with their hands or a Tupperware if the little guy is lucky.  On my back porch, I have a large Tupperware, with grimy opaque water, filled with so many tadpoles it looks like a room full of toddlers when you say it’s lunchtime.  Yesterday morning before school started, the kids ran out with handfuls of lettuce to give them their breakfast and they called me out there. There was a tadpole that looked like a blowfish. You know when Violet swelled up because she ate too much candy in Charlie’s factory?  This blowfish must have eaten too much lettuce. I had never seen anything like it. It was so swollen that its skin was translucent and had a silvery rainbowy glow.  Poor guy. I went back into making lunches and Nathan walked in with a confident smile and told me he took care of him. He popped him so that the food could come out. He explained how he had saved him and then eagerly went back outside to check on him.  How many times am I just like this with my kids? My intentions are good, but at the same time unknowingly, I may be harming them.

I’m realizing how often I feed my kids a slice of happiness just like my kids kept feeding the blowfish tadpole.  I tie their shoes every morning even though they are very capable of using their own hands to tie their laces. I don’t want them to have loose shoes or to have to struggle their way through tying their own laces. One slice of happiness.  I remind them several times in one morning to put their homework in their bag and then check to make sure they did it so they don’t feel the embarrassment of not having it or have a docked grade.  Another slice of happiness. I make sure at the beginning of the school year that they have the right book bag and lunchbox so that they feel comfortable with them.  An additional slice of happiness. Ok, you get the point. I realize that I live like Bachelor nation. I want them to be happy! I don’t want them to feel pain, sadness, embarrassment, loss or anything remotely uncomfortable! Whoa, how did I get here? Is that even what is best for my kids? Or am I just feeding my little tadpoles one bite of happiness at a time when eventually they are going to explode. And they do explode (it’s called an emotional breakdown or aka a tantrum). If there is a challenge where they need to step up or if something is difficult, they sometimes explode. “What! I have to tie my own shoes! But I caaaaan’t!” 

Please don’t hear what I’m not saying. I’m not saying I want my kids to be miserable. Happiness is bad. I want to make my kids’ life terrible. What I am contemplating is the thought that I have created an environment and standard of living that is not only unhealthy but also unattainable.  I want my kids to be resilient. Then don’t they need to experience difficult conditions?  I want them to know how to handle loss. Then don’t they need to undergo being deprived of something of value to them?  I want them to know they are not defined by their mistakes. Then don’t they need to encounter a mishandled situation and feel that my love has not wavered for them?

This is taking off some stress for me as well. I’m realizing they don’t have to have the best kindergarten teacher or a stylish haircut because parenting is about teaching not creating a flawless world for them. And how can they learn when everything is perfect?  Do I absolutely delight in giving my kids slices of happiness? Absolutely! But I don’t want to overfeed my tadpoles where they turn into blowfishes and eventually pop. When my tadpoles have a moment of hunger I consequently have the opportunity to teach them skills to get their own food. And just as my kids faithfully take care of their tadpoles until they are ready to jump out of the Tupperware, I will devotedly not stop loving my kids whether they get that slice of happiness or not.  

Why I'm 99% happy that this school year is over

Nathan runs up to me with a grin on his face and energy surging through his bones. "Guess what?" he yelps.  He tells me that his dad said there is a 99% change that we won't be able to commit to competitive soccer next year.  "That means there is a 1% chance that I get to play!!"  Oh that sweet boy of mine who always holds on to the positive and wants to squeeze every drop of hope out of each situation.

When I think of this school year ending, I feel sadness and my heart is weighed down as if I've lost something very dear to me. Endings can produce emotions.  I watched a movie the other night that captured my mind. I transported into the story and was saddened when it came to an end. When we throw our New Year's eve parties, I hate when the last song is being played and the house it empty and quiet again. Of course there are things that I love to come to and end as well: a workout, my child's fit, depression, sickness, a day at work, counseling. I guess we can feel a variety of emotions when it's something good that comes to an end; it creates opposing emotions in my heart.

Today is the last day of school and I'll be picking up my 1st and 3rd grader up at the bike ramp for the last time with them at this height, with these size of hands, with these school uniforms, with this level of emotional and academic growth. My mind gravitates towards the 1% like my son. Except in this situation, the 99% means that my kids are growing, have successfully mastered their benchmarks, and they are developing in every way. They are growing and they are healthy.  The 1 % however washes over me like a flood of both heartache and sadness because I am saying goodbye to the 1st and 3rd grader that I can never get back. They will never be this small again. The older I get I'm realizing that the time with my children is going by so quickly.

This year ending also means that my youngest will be beginning school in 2 months. This is the end of me being a stay at home mom with little ones at home hanging on me the whole day. And although I am so grateful in many ways that this season is over, I desperately miss those moments where I rocked a crying baby to sleep. When I looked into my toddler's eyes and their little hand held my finger.  When I was trying to figure out our sleeping routine.  When I heard words come of their mouth that only a mom can understand and translate. Time is something we have no control of. It keeps moving, whether too slow or too fast, but it's moving. And wants it's passed it's gone forever.

Squeeze your little or big ones today. They will never be the same as they are in this moment.  Life will happen. Time will pass.  I am thankful I have a 1 percenter who reminds me daily of the joy of each situation. If you have little ones still at home, I encourage you to look at their little bodies, soak in their smiles, listen to the phrases they repeat, take note of how they have already grown so much. For those of us who have school aged kids, let's do the same thing. Children are a blessing. Being a mother is a great honor. As I say goodbye to this year, I am overly grateful that my time with them is not yet done. I'm holding tightly to both the 1% and the 99%.

Learning to slow mySELF down (teaching my kids to listen)

I grab my warm cup of green tea loaded with coconut milk and sit down in our (adult only) living room before the kids come downstairs in the morning. I'm reading, journaling, and reflecting for the day that is ahead when I hear my children fighting upstairs. Shortly after, that noise travels downstairs and they are within a foot of my face all talking at once, fighting for my attention. I have so many ways I could respond and I need to chose what I'm going to do. I could tell them to figure it out, simply separate them, give them each consequences, on and on. So how do I know what I should do?   I'm learning to think and even say out loud to my kids, "Let's slow it down." Although I don't have any power over time or space, I can slow my fragmented mind to focus on one thing.  When I tell myself to slow it down, it gives me a chance to model self reflection and consequently self control. What am I feeling? Let me check my emotions at the door so that I can enter into my kids' world, because what I'm tempted to think is, "I was in my favorite room of the house, reading my favorite book, drinking my warm tea and now I have to deal with you."  I want my thoughts to gravitate towards asking what my kids needing right now? What would I like to see happen in their relationship in this moment? What should I focus on with them when I see a million things they are doing wrong?  Do I focus on the big picture or get into the details? Which kid do I address first? The point is I don't have to know the answers to these questions. In fact, the answers will look different for each child, even in the same day, and it's very likely that there is not a right or wrong answer or solution. However, what is valuable for me and consequently for my kids is to slow my distracted mind down, in order to focus on my children, instead of complaining about how they interrupted me or how my tea is getting cold.  It's valuable to be thinking about them: not just quickly react and make it about me.

How do I get my kids to listen to me once I slow the moment down? After being a mom for almost 9 years here's my latest answer; I don't know.  I'm not even sure that's the question to ask. Why do Mike and I want our kids to listen to us? Our answers may include: because they are supposed to, they need to learn whose the boss,  I'm owed respect, it would just be easier, it's part of being a good human being.  Yes, yes, yes, and yes. But can we step back from all that and take an aerial view?  If I could dream for my children, I would want them to listen to me because they value my words. I would want them to trust my words not because it's about me, but because it's about us. I want a relationship with them where their respect for me and my words comes from years of experiences where they know I am safe, that I love them, that my mind and heart is for them. 

So how can we build safe, loving, and respectful relationships with our kids that fosters them to listen to us? Obviously that question can be an endless conversation but listening to them is invaluable. It's not about only going through the motions of listening or to just bethinking about what you are going to say when they stop explaining themselves. Instead, putting myself into their shoes where my own heart begins to feel with them.   Here's a little acronym I've been using that helps me to remember: SELF.
1. Slow it down
2. Emotions, deal with my own before engaging my kids
3. Listen to them with my full attention
4. Feel, show them authentic empathy

So if I were to listen to my own words, I want to model thoughtfulness rather than being reactionary. I want to grow in listening rather than talking. I want my kids to feel what it's like to have someone feel empathy towards them. That softens not only a child's ears, but their hearts.