She's on her Way

My daughter left this morning for Japan. She has 16 hours of travel time ahead of her as she makes her way to Kyoto Seika University. Spending a semester abroad is an amazing opportunity for this child of mine and I am so proud of her for making this happen.
And I will miss her - whether she is in Japan or back in Rhode Island where her college is. Either way she isn't here to have tea with in the morning.
I've been overwhelmed this summer with the house full of adult children - there's been a lot to juggle and shift and negotiate. And yet, many of the quiet, contented moments that I have had were shared with my daughter as we prepared meals together, drank tea on the porch and picked blueberries in the garden. Her care and love has been given with such an open heart - what joy it brings me to see the light that shines in her.
So safe travels, sweetheart. My love and prayers are with you always.

Off They Go…

My middle child headed off back to college tonight. She has a red eye to Boston. It is a bittersweet moment of enjoying her excitement and also knowing that these past few months with her have been a gift that may not be repeated anytime soon. We packed her up and sent her on her way with a home cooked meal with brownies for dessert. Lots of hugs and kisses and nuzzling of cats – she is going to miss having our old cat Brandy sleeping by her pillow every night.

I know that I will hear from her tomorrow. A phone call from the bus or when she finally gets the keys to her dorm room. We'll instant message and talk about shipping the last box of belongings and her Japanese placement test. I am so grateful that I live in this age of technology. I think about that as my children ease out into their adult lives. It wasn't that long ago that communication wasn't so cheap or instantaneous. As a mother I am - heart fully - thankful.

My oldest son is home for the weekend, he starts up his last year of classes at UBC next Tuesday. I have had a wonderful chance to talk with him and really listen and see the amazing MAN my son is. A complex, brilliant, emotional, tangled weave of individuality that is all his. My graduate school education was worth the price just to be able to sit and listen and learn who he is.

He leaves tomorrow and then my youngest is an only child again. The house becomes large, empty – but filled with laughing and loving memories that are waiting to be revived in December.

I don’t really live here anymore

My oldest daughter and I were talking yesterday and she said 'being home is like pushing the pause button – and once I get back to school, my life starts up again.' Her sense of coming home for the summer has been slightly surreal. Walking back into her childhood after spending a year celebrating her ability to live in the adult world was jarring. I think her experience is unique in that she is aware of why she feels the way she does. And I'm not insulted or disappointed in what she is saying because I know how much she loves us and I am so proud of her ability to stride forward into her own future as an adult. She simply feels the difference of being an adult out in the world on her own – and coming home to stay in the house she grew up in.

We read a book called the Paradox of Intimacy by Donald Williamson during our first year of graduate school and he talked quite a bit about how individuals leaving home often lack the 'personal authority' or individuality needed to become an adult. This trait is something that most of us are left to develop on our own as we stumble through our twenties – when we finally are able to put some sort of distance –physical or mental – space between who we are and who our family has said we are. Personal authority is the final piece of growing up, those moments when we begin to value ourselves as unique and see that our own perspective no longer has to meld with that of our families of origin. It's nice when all those perspectives can exist in harmony. Sometimes they do – sometimes they don't. Williamson puts out there that the ideal growth pattern is to help our teenagers establish their personal authority as they leave home. We step back and give them the space to develop their own abilities to navigate life. We stop rescuing them from homework assignments and social angst – we (parents) become the backdrop, allowing the container in which we have always held them to widen out. The difference between a zoo cage and a wild animal park. Sorry – I just had to use that metaphor!

I learned early that the most dangerous person in my daughter's life was herself. Without self esteem, without the ability to find her passion, without the chance to try and explore the world with her own vision – she would fail to thrive. She stepped into college with an excitement and ambition that again, I have rarely seen. But she chose a college that dared her to be the greatest artist possible – her dreams, not mine or anyone else's. And she thrives as she gains new levels of confidence – in her abilities to take care of her body, manage her fears and push her talents to grow.

So I can understand how coming home this summer felt like a pause button. In some ways, I believe that that isn't such a bad thing. I do ask her to participate in the maintenance of the household – because she is an adult and she is living here – but beyond that, I've allowed her to decide when she wants to spend time with us, when she wants to enjoy a meal that someone else cooked. We don't wait for her but she gives me the courtesy of knowing when to set another plate. We talk about the ways in which coming home is somewhat of a backslide – how inescapable it is to step back into that role of child with another adult as ultimate authority (parents). We talk about it so that it is out in the open – explicit – and more amusing then intolerable. Her fiercely independent nature can still make space for a soothing head rub. I am and always will be her mother, afterall.

The nurturing is still needed but it becomes a more open and loving relationship that allows for distance. For me, it is becoming about always have a welcome mat out. The invitation for care and love and unconditional support is there to be tapped – when she needs it. I like being part of my daughter's pause button – even as she paces, restless to get back to her dorm room, new classes and more. From my perspective (which she doesn't have to share), having people with whom we can find those moments of pausing/rest are good. And, as she heads back east this month, I'll cheer her on as she revs back up in her own life experience. You go girl.

One thing leads to another

I've ended up spending the last few days sorting though the flotsam and jetsam of my daughter's lives. They are switching rooms and what was supposed to be relatively simple has my hall clogged with dolls, papers, clothes and an assortment of items that only they can love. Uncovering the carpet for the first time in years – revealing the gouged walls underneath that poster – repair work needs to be done. I'm in the middle of painting the larger bedroom which needs to be done pronto to get my younger daughter's piles of stuff put away where it will soon belong.

I am always amazed at the accumulation that accompanies living. My oldest daughter had to sort through eight years of belongings that marked the transition from childhood to adulthood. Other frameworks are visible as well. The angst of teenhood, the remnants of the little girl – all piled haphazardly now in the hall waiting final distribution. Some items will go to my niece, another pile will go to goodwill. There are a few boxes that she will close up and store in the attic until such time that she is out on her own. If I look around at my own belongings – there is as much if not more that has been accumulated. What do I really need? What is only taking up space because I have the space to fill?

Luckily I don't have to worry over my own potential piles in the hallway right now. And yet, as I head deeper into my forties and I watch my youngest more into her teen years – I am aware that there is a shift coming that I welcome. A time when I can downsize and step out of the active and engaged parent role. It isn't that far away when I will also be going through the drawers and closets deciding what will go and what will stay.

For now, however, I will finish painting and enjoy my younger daughter's excitement at getting her new room.

Conscious Parenting

What follows is the foundation of an article that I am beginning to put together - as well as a possible workshop offered out to parents who are just a tad overwhelmed by the seemingly necessary standards of child rearing in the new millennia. It's long but if you do read through it and have some thoughts to share (not only on the writing but the ideas behind it) I would love to hear from you -

How to be a good parent always makes great fodder for the media grist mill of self help books and Dr. Phil shows. Along with all the other parents out there, I pay attention to what is considered good parenting practices. And yet, I wonder just what does our society define as a good parent? I am old enough now to see how that definition has shifted over the last twenty years.[i] I also see how larger cultural issues inform much of what we have come to condone as good parenting. What I haven’t seen very much of is the parenting process revealed as the personal journey that it is. Becoming a parent seems to negate anything else that we, as human beings, are. It takes over the life of an adult and becomes the mode of self definition for at least the next eighteen years.
Who I am – what I want and need in my own life – is not a question that is often asked by parents in the trenches of raising their children. What we want is for our children to succeed. What we need is to know that they are safe. [ii] What we don’t stop to look at is what our own definition of success truly is. We don’t ask ourselves what we are trying to keep our children safe from. If success is the holy grail of acceptance into an Ivy League college with a planned career in medicine when our child is still three years old – whose dream are we asking our children to live? If we try and wrap our children in bubble wrap over the course of their teenage years – how will they learn to trust their own judgment when faced with stressful or dangerous situations when you aren’t there to save them?
If I can really get in touch with my own definition of success then I can also ask myself how I measure up to my own standards. How am I modeling that vision of success? Do I even have a hobby that takes me out of the home? Am I vicariously enjoying a whole host of activities because I never had the chance to do those things when I was young? Am I trying to give my child everything that I always yearned for but never got? And here’s one last question: what kind of person does my child see when he or she looks at how I live my life? Do they see more than just sacrifice and prodding? Do they see humor and support? Do they see a man or a woman who is a human being?
All of these questions are meant to bring to your mind the awareness behind the choices and expectations that are made while parenting. Being aware of where the answers stem from can be powerful catalysts to re-examine whose life you are trying to lead. Just understanding the beliefs behind your expectations and actions can help you step back enough to do something that is absolutely necessary to the health of your child: Inquiring into their experience.
Tuning in to the person that your child is – past all the static noise of your own worries and fears – will help your child begin to develop some of the skills that they really need as they move into the adult world. Daniel Siegel wrote about this in his book Parenting from the Inside Out[iii]. Attunement, he writes, is the foundation for children's development of self. Perhaps it is difficult to listen to that degree when you aren’t sure what that really feels like. Think about it, what would it be like to have someone really tune in and listen to what you want from your own life? Just because you are no longer a child doesn’t mean that your opportunity to try out a new career or take a class or follow a dream is gone. What would it feel like for someone just to ask you questions, let you flesh out those dreams and brainstorm the ways in which you can actually take steps towards making them a reality?
What do you want your own life to look like?
In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron challenges her students to make a date with themselves every week.[iv] And it fascinates me how many adults need help to even come up with what that time with self would look like. Can you imagine what it would be like to invest some of your energy into your own dreams and wistful ponderings? Can you imagine valuing that time in the same way you value your child becoming a select soccer star?
Tuning in to my own dreams helps me tune in to the dreams that reside in my children’s hearts. It is so easy to build expectations and make assumptions about who they should be and yet, if I stay mindful to what those expectations and assumptions primarily say about my own beliefs – then I can set them aside for the moment and find out what my children believe. Giving children the space to begin the journey into knowing who they are is a powerful life lesson.
Being a conscious parent is not about pursuing perfection or good or bad parenting behavior. Conscious parenting is about being aware of all that I am in relationship with my role as parent. I was a child and teenager and young adult before I became a parent – and those parts still reside within me. The beliefs and values that I took out of my own childhood inform my thinking now. I can’t get past my own filters. It naturally follows that how I look at the world will impact how I look at the act of raising children in this world.
Knowing more about my own inner landscape helps me take a step back before plunging headlong into the latest fear induced parenting craze. Just because ‘everyone else is doing it’ becomes less important then what do I or my child want to do. I can feel the anxiety – and allow it to bring home the most important message of all: I really have no control over the life success of this child. I can guide, encourage, listen and support my child. I can teach and model the values that I think make up ethical living. What I can’t do, ultimately, is control what they will do with the tools that I have provided them with once they leave the home. I can’t stop bad things from happening to my children whether it is a painful break up with a girlfriend or getting mugged on the city sidewalk. What I hope they leave home with is resiliency: the ability to adapt and recover quickly from life’s setbacks. Is there any way to do that if you don’t have some measure of who you are as an individual? It’s hard to get up off the ground – when you don’t know what the ground looks like.
Conscious parenting is about mindfulness and being present in the moment that is at hand. Accepting all of myself – my strengths and my anxiety - as being present in the moment opens the door for acceptance of the fullness of another. I can label my anxiety and fear as bad – or I can hold those feelings as messengers from the past that want to tell me what will happen in the future. If I start listening to the loud voices in my own head that are spinning out all the “what if” stories of potential consequences, I can’t hear the most important voice of all – that of my child. My fear is my experience – not my child’s. Daniel Goleman talks about this in his book Social Intelligence. [v] We pass emotions to others – especially anxiety – as ways to lessen our own reactivity. Is it any wonder that the rate of anxiety and depression among children is growing substantially?
How do we escape this cycle of anxiety and help our children reach for success? How can we be involved parents and not intrusive parents? If we step back from trying to be ‘perfect’ parents, how will we know that we have done enough to insure the brightest possible future for our children? The answer, I believe, is unique to each individual parent and each individual child. That bright future does not fit into one definition. It is a custom tailored vision that needs to be explored. What I do believe is that as parents we need to ask ourselves what we want for our own brightest future – and decide if we are willing to become students once more in the classroom of life to get there. The other side of that equation is listening to our children as they begin to explore their own talents and interests. Put your expectations aside and listen. If that means slowing down and spending a few more evenings at home instead of basketball practice and violen lessons, so be it. Try it on for size and tune in to what you hear.

[i] (Stearns, 2003)
[ii] (Donahue, 2007)
[iii] (Siegal & Hartzell, 2003)
[iv] (Cameron, 1992)
[v] (Goleman, 2007)

Cameron, J. (1992). The Artist's Way. New York: Penguin.
Donahue, P. J. (2007). Parenting Without Fear. New York: St. Martins Griffen.
Goleman, D. (2007). Social Intelligence: The New Science of Human Relationships. New York: Bantam.
Gordon, T. (2000). Parent Effectiveness Training. New York: Three River Press.
Siegal, D., & Hartzell, M. (2003). Parenting from the Inside Out. New York: Tarcher/Penguin.
Stearns, P. (2003). Anxious Parenting: A History of Modern Childrearing in America. New York : New York University.

Being single in Sixth Grade

That may seem like a strange title to use for my post - but this is what has been up in my house over the last few days. It's been interesting watching my children grow up. Each of them have gone to a certain school from the fifth grade on - and each class has had its own theme. My youngest daughter, now in sixth grade, has slowly been revealing to me one of the reoccurring themes in her class: relationships of attraction.

She has been dreading Valentine's Day because it was going to so prominently point out to her that she is "alone" and single. She's twelve. Kids in her class - some of them, at any rate, are "together" - that nebulous term that means that you exchange emails with each other and sometimes eat lunch together. But everyone knows that you like like the other and are officially an item. It is also a measure of your attractiveness - this odd mirror of external validation that I personally believe happens concurrently with puberty.

This peer reality of my daughter is heartbreaking. She's taller than the other girls and knows beyond a doubt that the birthmark on her face makes her ugly. She's tough and fairly savvy for twelve - being the younger sister to two older college age siblings - and yet hides her true emotions behind a mask of happiness and get along spirit. But she is single and alone in sixth grade.

I remember sixth grade and there was so little of this kind of stuff going on. That started up the following year in middle school. Sixth grade was still about dodge ball and girl scouts and slumber parties. And so I watch my youngest daughter trying to navigate through this culture and can only wonder at the cost to her self esteem. It's like watching a whole bunch of kids playing house. They are playing at having the more adult relationships of dating and partnership. But dating is part of the mating dance - and that hardly feels appropriate in the lives of children under the age of -well - fifteen. And why? Why play house at all? Is the need for external validation by the opposite sex so important for girls AND boys? Can we only see ourselves as whole in relationship to others? Is this what our enmeshed relationships are bringing forth in our children? As a culture, are we pushing our children so quickly into adulthood that we forget that they actually have to have the inner growth needed to match the privileges we seems to throw so readily their way?

I'm thinking about these questions as I hug my daughter and listen to her worries and pain. I can't change the world she lives in but I sure hope I can help ease the blows.

Two chicks home...

My oldest daughter arrived home last night. She barely managed the window between the two big storms that have hit New England this past weekend. I was so happy to see her; hear her voice, smell her head - all those little ways that we identify our children, even when they are adults.

She hasn't changed in the way she looks or giggles or smiles, but there are other ways, much more subtle that I take notice of. Actually, what I am noticing is my desire to tell her how things work in the world. Soft lecture mode. It's as if I want 'in' to this process through which she is beginning to form her adult self. I want her to consider and think about my viewpoints as she comes into her own adult views. Luckily, like I said - I noticed - and I've been able to mellow my own need to speak at her and force myself to listen. What I hear is a young woman who is separating from her childhood - not in a bad way, but in a significant way that tugs at me with sadness and joy. And when I'm just listening, when I ask questions into her experience, I have to sit with my feelings: the fears and anxieties of letting go. I have to see the adult emerging - the differences. The choice then becomes whether I will celebrate this brilliant new blossom or will I try and put it back in the hothouse?

The answer is obvious - and hard. I celebrate her - and I stumble a bit as she differentiates. We get to figure out how to continue to move in harmony as our family dynamics change.

So, one more chick to get back in the nest. He'll be home Tuesday.

What is truly important in life

There are moments of realization that come along and show me with great clarity what is really important.
My child.
Her wellness.

We don't have any answers right now - just lots of testing, questions and assessments. I'm not fond of seeing a good doctor stumped. I'm also not fond of taking a child in to get CT scans, MRI's and EEG's. That's a lot of new experiences that aren't exactly anxiety free.

As a friend of mine said today - I am the queen of understatement.

Leaving on a jet plane

I'm taking J. to the airport early tomorrow morning. She's leaving for college and today it hit me that its going to be tough to watch her walk away. Her dad's traveling with her this first time around. We've packed boxes and bought extra shampoo. We shoveled out her room this morning locating socks and jackets and a brand new pair of tennis shoes. And although she has been practically humming with energy to get going - this morning she felt the scariness of the step into the unknown.
J. isn't my first child to head out into the world. Going to college is hardly complete adulthood - its a netherworld that is neither childhood nor adulthood (at least when your parents are paying the tuition and housing bills). And yet, she's going so far away, this brazen amazon child of mine. She who wears the armor of youthful arrogance and kick ass-ness.
We keep joking that people are acting like she's leaving forever - like she's dying - and in some ways its true. Our relationship will shift irrevocably with this transition. And even though I celebrate the joy of seeing such a capable being fly for the first time - I can't help but grieve what is now departing. My life will shift with her lack of presence in the home of her childhood. I don't have to ever let go of my baby girl - those images and memories will stay with me. I just get to also watch this glorious creature that is my daughter head into her own future and welcome the moments that she chooses to share her life with me.

Cleaning out childhood

It occurred to me yesterday that I know longer have young children. I was starring into the closet in our bonus room (aka play room, tv room, workout room, sewing room) - gazing at the piles of play clothes and blocks, children's books; barbies, stuffed animals and legos and realized that this collection of 'stuff' really doesn't have a purpose in my house any longer.

My youngest daughter and I spent the afternoon pulling everything out of that closet. We picked through the doll clothes and the barbies who had interesting hair cuts. We discovered a cache of beanie babies that rivals what you can find on a store shelf. Slowly we separated out what would be kept for posterity and what would go to charity and what simply had to be thrown away. My library of children's books will go to my sister - and then on to the real library. Blocks and my daughter's special babydoll will go up in the attic.

It was an odd shift in my own thinking - to really feel how age has creeped up on us all. Change happens whether we like it or not. I wasn't sad as I did this, I actually felt lighter. My daughter and I laughed over some of the things we found as memories came up and softly fell away. When it is time to move and shift in our lives, sometimes it isn't chaos and conflict that are the hallmark of change. Sometimes it is ten shopping bags full of stuffed animals that make room for what we want in our lives right now.

The closet? Its now full of my sewing stuff.

Graduation festivities

I would really like to say that this weekend is a joyous celebration of my middle child graduating from high school. It should be a moment to feel pride and gratitude for all the she has accomplished and the exciting new adventure that is waiting for her.

And for reasons that are almost too hard to write about, this weekend became about broken promises, anger and frustration. I'm also sitting with a particularly difficult case that breaks my heart just thinking about it. I will need my clearest sense of self and empathy to sit in a session on Monday. This weekend offers no respite, no mindful clearing - not even a chance to clear the air and realign with my partner prior to Monday.

Then there is the fact that this weekend should be about my daughter. It is her graduation, after all. How can I let go of this inner pain without shoving it away where it will fester? How can I release my frustration out to the universe without absolving behavior that is unacceptable to me?

I want to release, forget, shrug off these feelings and just enjoy the weekend. I want to find some peace of mind before Monday so that I can be present in the way that I would want someone to be with me. I want to bask in the glory of my child - her radiance and brilliance as she takes her diploma. I want to smile at my in-laws as I play hostess to family.

Most of all, I want to find a silent, still pond to sit by.