Monday, July 28, 2014

Infinite present


One of the things that I marvel about in parenting is the pace at which our children develop. “It goes by so fast!” parents of older children often exclaim as they mourn for the days of chubby babies, the newborn smell, and quiet snuggles. “The days drag on and on…” admit the parents of colicky babies, tantruming toddlers, and obstinate preschoolers. Both are true, as Glennon Doyle famously writes about in a blog post for Momastery. What I am referring to here, though is something different, something about the fixed way in which we know our children.
I find that I seem to get comfortable with them, so comfortable indeed, that I only seem to know them for who they are today. When I get startled, however, is when I look back in time, at photos and especially at videos, about the creatures they once were.





Even six months prior; I think wow, that was you!! And you’ve grown, and I haven’t even realized it! Of course I have, on the more cognitive level, but viscerally I feel like my children are somehow going to be who they are, in this moment, eternally.

This is actually a comfort to me, I think, through the throes of parenting, for many reasons, which is that we can hang on to the present versions of ourselves and of our children, but we reflecting upon our pasts often can teach us new things about ourselves. Parenting is only one of many transient things in life; indeed all things in life are transient.  Our children grow, and they become more and more independent, until one day they go and live on their own.  That is both wonderful and heart-breaking. The other side of this, though, is that we are also going through our own phases. I once did many, many things that I no longer do simply because as a parent there is no longer time, money, energy, and sometimes (but not often) interest, but many of these activities once formed part of my identity and helped me live as freely as possible.  I am talking about many activities, including but not limited to adventure sports, regular writing, going out to hip and trendy bars, traveling, crafting, all sorts of things.  






OK once in a while (like once a year) I might board a kayak or go for a bike ride, I’m writing a blog post now of course, I go out with my husband maybe once a month and girlfriends at about the same interval, we travel to visit family with our kids, and I will about once a month touch some knitting (never complete anything anymore), but not with the same kind of commitment or reckless abandon of all other duties to pursue said hobby. This adventuresome spirit is something I hope to impart on my own children, but I’m still navigating the early years of parenting and still figuring out how to work a full time job, breastfeed a baby, cook, clean, grocery shop and manage our lives, all with a fully committed co-parent. Whatever “free time” I find myself in I usually want to spend reading a novel or binge-watching one of the many awesome shows out there now.

So, all this is to say, however, that as much as I sometimes mourn for the past of children’s lives, and certainly my own, to have had these experiences, even if I can’t always replicate them now, gives me a feeling of wistful warmth that is almost as good as the feeling of excited anticipation of awaiting something fun (like a day spent hiking or a spa trip or a date night). People often talk about living in the present.  What a wonderful objective, and one that I also strive for, especially when confronted by a present worth remembering. But in the off moments, the ones that I spend alone or waiting it out, oh how I relish memories of my babies, or of a younger me doing things that I thought were cool at the time but even cooler now in retrospect. In the off moments, I sometime like to imagine what it will be like to revisit these adventures again, this time with a deeper hunger and ability to savor the privilege and honor the sacrifice it took to make those moments happen.

It all matters - the present, the memories, and the dreams of what’s to come. And it doesn't take terabytes, just a few simple snapshots, to catapult you back.


Saturday, January 18, 2014

Rage monsters

I wrote this message to a dear friend after reading the following blog post on parental rage, that taboo topic that is such a big and normal part of parenting that so many of us struggle with. I'm including my message here because I want to share aspects of my own emotional journey through motherhood.
 
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Hi Friend,
So, you know how some people post status updates on Facebook like, "hey, I made it to my 5am spin class!" or some other super-awesome thing they did that most people would recognize as being an accomplishment?
I so wish I could post this:

"Hey Facebook! You know what I did this morning? I let love win!!

I held my SHIT together while I... carried my totally bundled/well-protected-from-
the-cold 3 yo in from the car parked a whopping 30 feet from the front door of daycare while pushing a carseat stroller carrying similarly bundled 4 month old WHILE said 3yo was screaming (no: caterwauling), hitting me in the FACE and under the concerned stare of about 10 other parents.

You hear me, Facebook? I held my SHIT TOGETHER. I didn't yell, didn't cry, didn't grit my teeth, didn't drop my 3 yo and make her walk or die of hypothermia on the sidewalk, didn't say something snarky to her, didn't cry myself or... [beat] hit her back! 

And this is AFTER I woke up to feed a fussy/hungry baby at 12, 2, 4, and 6, AFTER I endured a 7am meltdown from aforementioned 3 yo because I wasn't Daddy, AFTER I showered/blow-dried, and put lots of make up and heels on because it's picture day at work, AFTER I packed the car with about 5 bags, AFTER I tended to 3 requests for different breakfasts, AFTER I remote-start warmed the car in preparation for a freezing-cold-related meltdown, AFTER we watched an episode of Doc McStuffins so as not to disrupt the morning too much (even though it makes me so late), AFTER I nursed an infant again at 8, AFTER I  made myself coffee only to let it chill on the counter, AFTER I packed second breakfast for school, AFTER I got two little people dressed in cold-weather, semi-reasonable looking outfits, AFTER I strapped a baby who hates car seats into a car seat, AFTER I tried the "frozen bubble experiment" with the 3yo in the courtyard before getting into school.

BOOM."


None of that shite matters... what matters is, why I am NOT crying at my desk this morning, is that I accepted the tantrum, and I didn't blame her for it. I took an extra 10 minutes with her and helped her calm down, read her a book, helped her remember that she is okay, she is safe, and she is loved.


I know this sounds obnoxious, even sanctimonious, but it's only coming from a sacred place of recognition. These kind of moments are the HARDEST MOMENTS OF MY LIFE. Because that's when I encounter the RAGE MONSTER, the monster that makes me forget that I love this tiny human, this sweet, sensitive, old-soul who was placed under my charge. I feel the venom, and I want to spit. I hear the blood pounding in my head and I want to SCREAM. I feel the tremors, and I want to shake something, or even someone. I may never get it let that far, but I don't want this rage monster in my neighborhood, let alone inside my body. And the monster sometimes comes just a little too close to taking over, leaving me terrified and deeply ashamed. 


But not today, Friend, not today. Today, love won.
 
There's no greater accomplishment I have ever experienced then letting love take over. 
 
I don't think I can make the rage monster disappear, but I will continue to fight it. This will be my fight - perhaps the hardest fight I encounter as a parent. I will fight.  I will fight for love.
 
And that will be greater than any work success, any hard work-out, and even greater than anything I produce, manage, or even create.


In love, understanding, and solidarity,
E


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