Love Bomb! - Part 2

On my oldest son's 16th birthday we presented him with a bundle of letters from friends and family. The letters had been written in the weeks after he was born and expressed the hopes and dreams and pure joy that his life set into motion.  Reading the Love Bombs! encouraged my son to present me with a similar gift on my birthday. My birthday present was a green sparkly box filled with little slips of paper. On each slip he had written some of the things that he thought were proof of my awesomeness.  He told me that it was a box of reminders for those days when I was doubting myself.  I'm not writing this to brag, in fact the opposite is true.  My birthday was in May and it took me three months later to open the box.  Trust me, it wasn't a lack of self doubt or negative self talk, that kept me from seeking out the affirmations.

As I read his notes I was struck by the disconnect. The thoughts I have about myself and the ones that he felt compelled to celebrate were at odds. This I think is a universal truth. Whether it's good or bad, our perception of ourselves is almost always different, in part at least, than what our friends, family, coworkers, and neighbors think of us.  Take some of the reactions I had to my love bomb slips:

You inspired both of your sons to start committed gym schedules. Why did I sleep in today and miss the gym?

You have the talent of being able to interact peacefully and productively with difficult people. Why can't I have better relationships with_____?

You is kind, you is smart, and you is important.  This makes me smile because I love the reference and then a little twinge because I know that I need this reminder every day.

People have religious experiences when eating your Christmas cookies. Ok, some perceptions are just basic facts that can't be debated.

You make a commitment to stay in close contact with your friends, whether it be a breakfast date or on the phone. When was the last time that I called...?

You started a blog which is cool. I can't believe how long it's been since I wrote anything.

You've got some mad ping pong skills. True, so true.

Yellow Sticky Love Note #4 (Photo credit: madlyinlovewithlife)

So why did I wait three months to open this amazing box of affirmations? Why did I actively avoid positive words of encouragement when I was feeling down? Once I opened the box, why couldn't I just read the notes and absorb the sentiments without any counter commentary? Why do we cling to the things that are still in progress, the flaws, the small imperfections? The fact that we are imperfect is not the big news. Imperfect people creating beauty, acting with kindness, supporting others, teaching, and working in spite of their deficits, that's what's amazing. Drop a couple of love bombs today.  Drop one on yourself too and then be quiet.

Humility - Is it Possible Anymore?

020/365 united we stand... (Photo credit: Joits)

There's been a big pause since my last post.  It's been a busy time for me at my job and quite honestly,  I  wasn't sure what to write about the election. It was the only thing on my mind for awhile but I didn't know how to talk about it here. Now that the ballots are counted though, I do have two thoughts that keep swirling in my head - humility and concern.

Obama and Romney were in a near tie for the popular vote.  Even in the most Republican or most Democrat controlled outposts there was still a respectable contingent voting for the opposing party. (Yes, Virginia, there are Republicans in Chicago.) In theory, whomever wins an election will be making decisions based on the needs of people who voted for and against them. Our leaders may get financed by a specific party but when they arrive in office they are the public servant for everyone. Right?  That's what we say.

Public service to a whole country or state requires genuine concern. True public servants ask questions about what the people need.  The concern, if pursued, demands humility, the deep understanding that none of us knows it all. Is humility possible anymore? Humility requires that we listen to the experiences of others to better inform our limited experiences. 

I've always lived in urban areas and in my circle of friends, growing up, were people who had been injured on their jobs in the Gary steel mills.  Government controls like the Environmental Protection Agency or OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) were just "givens" in my mind.  Everything those agencies did was necessary and important and valued, in my experience.  I was taken aback when I visited rural New York and talked with folks who were small business owners.  They were struggling to absorb the expensive testing and safe disposal fees for their auto body shop.  The same laws that protected one set of my friends were bankrupting others.  I still felt that workplace safety was important but now I better understood the financial impact of those policies and how the issues were so much more complicated.

I hear alot about the need to cut the deficit and have family members who are frustrated about the amount of government supports for the poor. In my own job however, I work with an organization serving the homeless.  I know that ignoring the needs of the poor, regardless of your value system, is expensive to society.  Homeless prevention funding has been reduced dramatically and yet $3,000 in prevention costs, money that keeps a family from ever becoming homeless, can save the community up to $50,000.  Cutting the budget in the area of social services often means more people incurring expensive emergency room care, police costs, and prison expenses for the taxpayers.

The issues are always like this - complex, nuanced, and not served very well by hyperbole and name calling.
The time for sound bites is over for now.  We need to move our conversations to a more productive and less condemning place.  With a little bit of humility and the willingness to listen to another's perspective, we might just have a chance to talk about solutions instead of blame. We might be able to improve our problems a small fraction instead of worrying about being 100% "right".  We need to practice that lost art of conversation and teach the kids in our life about it as well.  If we do, maybe we'll raise a few future public servants that actually know how to think about all of us.

Let's Talk Anyway

Here are two completely separate interactions that happened to me this week that have me churning.  The examples I'm going to give are two moments that took place in one day and smashed up in my mind but they are not unique or unusual. Let me know what you think.

First, a lovely get together with a friend who I haven't seen in a long time (except in Facebook land) and she asks me about writing this blog.  She admits that she saw the title and figured that as a single woman without children it wouldn't hold much interest or might even feel like a little pinch of salt on a sore spot.  I cringed, realizing that the very title of the blog had felt like an exclusionary clause to someone I like quite a lot.

Second, scanning some Facebook updates I see a relative remarking pretty harshly about the President and longing for his days in office to end soon.  I read the remarks and recoiled.  We like each other.  Just last month we were together face-to-face and sharing some important stories and experiences.

So, I'm thinking about how I listen to others. Do I speak honestly or defensively? Do I avoid people who I know will have a different point of view?  Are there ways that I could show myself to be more open to others?  Am I allowing myself opportunities to be challenged or taught by another?

Because here's the thing, I'll just be very blunt.  I can't afford to draw lines in the sand based on who's "with me".  If I decided to only talk with family members who were going to vote for Obama like me, I'd have maybe a handful of family left, including third cousins twice removed.  If I could only find wisdom from people who shared my spiritual beliefs, I might only have my own counsel to turn to - not a great option.

Here's the reality, we do like and love a ton of people who we don't completely understand. I had my four siblings with me a couple weeks ago and not one of us shares the same spiritual practices or lifestyle as one of the others.  We are incredibly different.  And yet we talk anyway.  We may get misunderstood and feel hurt sometimes but we aren't writing each other off and we're certainly not calling names or labeling each other as "them" or "those people".  In the big picture, I'm going to try and carry these thoughts with me, even into this crazy election season.  I'm a 46 year old, white, mom, who's voting for Obama.  Let's talk anyway.

Attachment Parenting

Let The War Begin! (Photo credit: dog.happy.art)

When I was pregnant for the first time, I knew one specific thing was going to be a part of my role as mother and that was breastfeeding.  My own mother had breastfed all of her five children and it felt very normal, almost a non-issue.  We bought many things in preparation for the new baby, a crib, car seat, and stroller, but no bottles.  To my surprise and deep frustration, the one thing that I had no worries or insecurities about, became a huge struggle.  My son would not nurse for any significant amount of time for the first month of his life.  The most natural part of mothering, for me, turned into a torturous routine of prepping and prodding, ultimately failing with my son only taking a small fraction of what he would need, and then pumping to offer later via a bottle.  There was intense fatigue, infections, and numerous consultations with our midwife and lactation specialists.  It was humbling to say the least.   Breastfeeding was the one thing that I had been calm and confident about.  Instead, I was left wondering what I was doing wrong.

Fourteen years later, the Time magazine cover, "Are you mom enough?", hit a nerve. I struggled to understand what the cover and subsequent flurry of public commentary meant to me.  When I was bleary eyed and brain dead from exhaustion the last thing that I needed was public scrutiny and judgement.  It felt like that cover photo was landing a blow on breastfeeding in general, not just those who breastfeed past the cute, defenseless time of infancy.  I have my own opinions about breastfeeding older children but my biggest theory is that as Americans, we are becoming more and more uncomfortable with lifestyles that promote emotional closeness, reject excessive consumerism, and allow for individuality.  It doesn't matter that a large part of the world shares a bed or at least a bedroom with their child(ren), in the U.S. it's suspect.  It doesn't matter that children all over the world are able to live with very little resources, in the U.S. our children's greatest gift is to help us stimulate the economy with purchases for "healthy development", "enrichment", and "stimulation".  Less is more is heresy.

Sleeping Angels (Photo credit: Cavalier92)

One of the big issues for our family around attachment parenting was the use of a sling for carrying and our (various mutations) shared sleeping quarters.  My boys were toddlers and walking competently when we stopped using the sling. The toddler moved to a sidecar bed when the new baby came and then they shared a bed in their own room as they both transitioned out of our room at two and four. We received many comments, even from people we love, about how we needed to stop babying them. I was resentful at the time that we could be judged for damaging our children or limiting their capacity for independence when they were notably smart, creative, and very confident.  When I would evaluate whether we were doing the right thing, it was never the boys that gave proof that we should change course, it was me. Attachment parenting was hard for me.  There were many days when I wasn't sure how much longer I could stay healthy and maintain the routine of physical closeness.  The choices we made were never as planned out or as calculated as I may have liked.  We moved one day to the next, loving our kids and trying desperately to do what seemed right for them.  What was good for one wasn't the same for the other, and our plans and intentions were always being tweaked. 

So the cover, and the public debate, stirred those early years up for me.  My own experience tells me that what I think will be easy or least manageable, frequently becomes a surprising struggle.  Other things that I never even planned can come to feel natural.  The one thing that remains constant is the love part.  There are happy kids who were fed formula and "Ferberized" and there are happy kids who were breastfed and slept in a family bed.  The happiness comes from families who are genuinely doing there best to meet their child's unique needs and doing that in love.  We don't need to pick sides and label one group of families as "normal"  or "ideal" and demonize others.  A different style of parenting doesn't need to feel like a challenge to your own.  Make the choices that meet the needs of your child, your family, and you.  Making choices based on what works or doesn't work for someone else may be a fun debate topic but it's not good for families.

Some of Us Have to Work

I was at a party yesterday and several of the guests had traveled from out of town.  I asked them if they were returning home later that day (Sunday) or staying through the week.  One of the women said that they were leaving on Monday but they couldn't stay much longer because, "Some of us have to work."  She said this as she looked over at her mother and sister (who has 7 children).  On the heels of  Anne Romney, current poster girl for stay at home moms, facing the media, I flinched a little.  I chose not to follow the story in the news this week of whether or not Anne Romney has ever worked a day in her life.  I chose to not listen to the political banter about what ends up being a huge personal struggle for many people. I chose not to listen to the defensiveness and forced expressions of empathy from both sides of the debate.  I've been there and it wasn't fun.  Thirteen years ago I decided to stay at home with my two sons.  My sister, my best friend, and hosts of other friends and family members pursued paid work and exemplary motherhood in tandem.  We spent lots of conversations reassuring the other person that their decision for their family was right for them.

Save them this fate. Don't stay home from Work^ - NARA - 534711 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What I know about this debate is that both sides are filled with self-doubt, feeling judged, worried about their children, lonely, misunderstood, and tired.  Hopefully, both moms at home or in the paid work force, also feel pride, accomplishment, and engagement. Many of my conversations with friends, during those early parenting years, were about whether we were making the right choice or not.  Would it be better for my kids if we had extra money for organic food or music lessons?  Was I really offering enough to them in my sleep deprived state?  Was I just tired or mildly depressed from limited interactions with other adults?  I would frequently come to a place where I was convinced that I should look for a paid job and then talk with one of my working mom friends and change my mind.  They would share the host of questions that they had.  Would the feelings of guilt ever lessen?  What was going to happen to their children from their limited contact?  Was the child care provider the right fit?  Were they going to be fired anyway because of the sleep deprived state they were in?  I'll insert here that these questions came up among men that I knew who were struggling with staying home or going back to work as well.

I think the stay at home vs. working parents debate heats up when people project their own internalized doubts onto others.  When I say, "My work is just as important as paid work.", I believe that part of the statement is coming from my own doubts about whether or not what I'm doing every day is making a difference or not.  The bottom line is that all the choices in our life, especially parenting choices require a delicate juggling of variables.  On the work decision, we're evaluating our child's specific needs, available child care resources, our own earning capacity, our own health, the family support system, and of course the little issue of our family budget.  We are the only ones that can judge all those elements and discern what will be sustainable for our unique family.  It would be great if our culture, our corporations, and our government actually offered programs and policies that made some of these decisions easier.  For now, I'd be happy if we could just all agree that families need more support, period.  Whenever possible, let's give each other encouragement instead of judgement, we're all being hard enough on ourselves most days anyway.

"Children Learn What They Live"

When I was a kid my parents had this wood plaque with a poem on parenting that was a fixture in our home.  At the time, I knew that it held a lot of wisdom and was grateful that my parents, for all of their faults, found it important to hang such a poem in their home.  There are many versions, but this is the one that I saw growing up:

Children Learn What They Live (1969)
BY DOROTHY LAW NOLTE

Image via Wikipedia

If a child lives with criticism,
He learns to condemn.
If a child lives with hostility,
He learns to fight.
If a child lives with ridicule,
He learns to be shy.
If a child lives with shame,
He learns to feel guilty.
If a child lives with tolerance,
He learns to be patient.
If a child lives with encouragement,
He learns confidence.
If a child lives with praise,
He learns to appreciate.
If a child lives with fairness,
He learns justice.
If a child lives with security,
He learns to have faith.
If a child lives with approval,
He learns to like himself.
If a child lives with acceptance and friendship,
He learns to find love in the world.

I thought about this poem a lot this past weekend.  I traveled to be with family and honor and remember my husband's uncle who died.  It was a great time of stories and reunion, mixed in with profound sadness.  Lots of people were talking about their childhood memories and the ways that their experiences shaped and scarred them.  It was a time to reconnect and to be reminded of the ties that bind. I'm back home now, in my own routine, and am ruminating on a series of interactions with one specific relative. 

No matter what topic was raised, no matter the time of day, no matter the age of the person that they spoke to, negative, critical, and disagreeable commentary spewed from their tongue.  My reaction was typical annoyance and frustration, replaced soon by anger and now as some distance is provided, pity.  All I can think of now, is the level of criticism that someone must have endured to turn them so negative.  This morning I rise and send up a prayer of thanksgiving for my flawed and loving parents.  I dig deep and send up a prayer for the broken and wounded bullies too.