Sometimes there are so many things to do, I don't know where to start.
But I also don't know where to end.
As resourceful, goal-oriented, "make things happen" women, not only do we tend to have a hard time asking for help -- but we sometimes have trouble saying no.
Before my daughter was born, 10 years ago last week, I worked at least 50 hours per week at my one job, socialized on weekends, wrote a novel on the side. That was good, but not great.
Now that I've been a mother for a full DECADE, I can see that this new role has made me into a much more diverse human being. I care about what happens in my childrens' school, so I'm active with the PTA, particularly its advocacy committee. Recently I helped host a community discussion with parents from 12 local schools after our city erupted into uncomfortable feelings around race, equity in the schools, and integration/segregation.
I care about the spiritual development of my daughter and 5-year-old son, so I found us a great community at the Unitarian Universalist church. I care about being connected there, so for two years I've been working toward our 150th anniversary celebration this fall. Next week I begin putting together a 120-page church history book based on what I've learned heading our archives efforts.
I care about finding my own balance, so that I can be the most stress-free mother I can be (which, granted, is sometimes still quite stressed), so I've been proactive about meeting new people and developing new friendships that fit with my lifestyle.
And, of course, I continue creating and reaching out with the Choice Moms community, here online, and in face-to-face workshop events that in 2009 take me to D.C., Chicago, Los Angeles, and Atlanta.
I feel so much more powerful as a person truly connected to the wider universe than I was when I worked 50 hours a week creating publications for Time Inc. clients.
But now....it's time to slow down.
It's time to start saying no.
One of the things I am hearing more about is the fatigue of kids, who are scheduled and web-connected and plugged in as much as their parents are.
I think it's something we tend to teach them, not only by putting them in so many enriching activities, but by setting an example of that ourselves.
Summer is coming. Trees and flowers are blooming. Lakes and rivers are winking. Books are calling.
I, for one, want to take some concentrated time now to declutter our lives and simplify our days.
What about you? Are you feeling overcommitted as an adult, wanting to take a step back and create more private moments with your kids? What are you going to do about it this month? Next month?
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Finding joy from the dark places
It's been an interesting new time of awakening for me this past year. Discovering what doesn't work for me anymore. Trying to figure out what does. Opening up to new people. Saying goodbye to others. Setting new priorities. Placing greater value on things I didn't pay attention to before.
Through it all, I'm emerging to a place that can best be characterized as a celebration of "not knowing."
There is a kind of rapture -- if I can safely use that word -- in tossing things up in the air and seeing what you want to catch on the way down.
Especially in this time of economic turmoil, many of us are on unsteady footing. Often our inclination is to want to stand as solidly as possible, looking for order and consistency and unchanging, reliable networks we can count on.
Of late, I've been debating (one night for five hours!) with a new young friend who strongly believes, as a Libertarian, that we need to collapse in free-fall fashion before we can re-emerge as a stronger nation. His view is that in Depression we give ourselves a chance to find community and the other blessings of life that mean more to us, in the long run, than material goods and savings accounts. That each of us has the right to prioritize our earnings into the values that mean something to us individually.
This idea, that I heard again yesterday at my Unitarian Universalist church -- that being lost and in the dark is perhaps the best way to shatter illusions and recognize what it is that ultimately matters to us as individuals -- reflects exactly where I am on my particular journey.
A couple from my church, who lost their daughter to a drunk driver several years ago, have talked openly about the strength they got from community. As the mother said recently, in the sanctuary where her daughter's memorial service had been held, "the love in this room was greater than my grief."
I saw a similar message last year, when an outpouring of support in a small town enlightened us at a VFW fundraiser, held to help my uncle's family cope with the difficulties of his quadriplegia at age 69. From the tremendous darkness of his tragic accident also came the opportunity to recognize tremendous light in our midst.
As my favorite Rev. Kate put it, in a sermon about being Broken and Blessed, "from ordinary life comes extraordinary love."
Every day now I see enormous support and insight coming from Choice Moms to each other on the discussion board. We are finding our voices, and are sharing our strengths as women, as mothers, as single people in this vast universe.
Our journey is not about knowing all the answers and doing things correctly, safely and without grief.
Our journey is about finding the people who will surround us -- with warmth, with a push, with a spark -- as we find our way through the dark, emerge into the light, and return again and again.
Most importantly, our journey is about collecting the positive energy to our side so that our beloved children will feel the same security and joy, in moments of connection, that will serve them on their own path.
Through it all, I'm emerging to a place that can best be characterized as a celebration of "not knowing."
There is a kind of rapture -- if I can safely use that word -- in tossing things up in the air and seeing what you want to catch on the way down.
Especially in this time of economic turmoil, many of us are on unsteady footing. Often our inclination is to want to stand as solidly as possible, looking for order and consistency and unchanging, reliable networks we can count on.
Of late, I've been debating (one night for five hours!) with a new young friend who strongly believes, as a Libertarian, that we need to collapse in free-fall fashion before we can re-emerge as a stronger nation. His view is that in Depression we give ourselves a chance to find community and the other blessings of life that mean more to us, in the long run, than material goods and savings accounts. That each of us has the right to prioritize our earnings into the values that mean something to us individually.
This idea, that I heard again yesterday at my Unitarian Universalist church -- that being lost and in the dark is perhaps the best way to shatter illusions and recognize what it is that ultimately matters to us as individuals -- reflects exactly where I am on my particular journey.
A couple from my church, who lost their daughter to a drunk driver several years ago, have talked openly about the strength they got from community. As the mother said recently, in the sanctuary where her daughter's memorial service had been held, "the love in this room was greater than my grief."
I saw a similar message last year, when an outpouring of support in a small town enlightened us at a VFW fundraiser, held to help my uncle's family cope with the difficulties of his quadriplegia at age 69. From the tremendous darkness of his tragic accident also came the opportunity to recognize tremendous light in our midst.
As my favorite Rev. Kate put it, in a sermon about being Broken and Blessed, "from ordinary life comes extraordinary love."
Every day now I see enormous support and insight coming from Choice Moms to each other on the discussion board. We are finding our voices, and are sharing our strengths as women, as mothers, as single people in this vast universe.
Our journey is not about knowing all the answers and doing things correctly, safely and without grief.
Our journey is about finding the people who will surround us -- with warmth, with a push, with a spark -- as we find our way through the dark, emerge into the light, and return again and again.
Most importantly, our journey is about collecting the positive energy to our side so that our beloved children will feel the same security and joy, in moments of connection, that will serve them on their own path.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Evolving as individuals with edges touching
We celebrated Charles Darwin's 200th birthday at my Unitarian Universalist church this week, complete with painting a papier mache tortoise named Chuck, a panel discussion about the inevitable debate of religion vs. science, and a sermon focused specifically on Darwin the Man himself.
As my daughter will tell you, I LOVE Darwin. And I'm not entirely sure why. Something about the random interconnection of life and its results as the evolutionary force of nature. It is why the novel I am slowly evolving myself is titled EVOLVE, and why my bedroom is filled with books about Darwin's theories.
At church, I admired again the words of our gifted writer/speaker Rev. Kate, as she pulled together disparate bits about how Evolution Rocks (look up the song lyrics), how the Church of England has published an apology for its treatment of Darwin's theory in his day, and how the Unfinished Business of life is the continuous pursuit of becoming who we are at our core.
"Evolution is," she said. We're never just done.
Life builds from our "successful mistakes," which is not the oxymoron we might otherwise believe it to be.
When I look at my children, I want them to have perfection. I want to tell them everything they need to know. I don't want them to fall down. I don't want them to get hurt. But, of course, they will.
Last weekend, my 10-year-old daughter did what I thought was not possible. She let a solicitor, a stranger, into the house while I was upstairs. Actually opened the door and let him in, because she didn't want to "not be nice" and make him stand in the cold.
She knew that this was a mistake. Thankfully, it was a mistake that was not tragic -- I kicked him out and she and I had an involved, emotional talk. But it freaked me out tremendously. How could she not KNOW this? Haven't I talked to her well enough? And for heaven's sake, how do I convince her that being "nice" is not always the best policy?
She had made a mistake. We talked about it. We learned from it. Hopefully we evolved from the experience. And perhaps that random encounter with a solicitor might actually help her avoid someone more harmful someday.
Rev. Kate also pointed out one of my favorite mantras: that we are formed from that which is both predictable, and unexpected.
We all need structure to keep us afloat. But it is in the unexpected paths -- such as Choice Motherhood, such as a child's questions -- where we discover who we really are.
The recent Facebook phenomenon of writing down 25 Random Things about ourselves is an indulgent little exercise. But it also reminds me of something interesting that I learned in a UU workshop a few years ago, when the simplest question from Rev. Frank led to profound moments of discovery for many of us in the room. He asked us simply to talk about the moments that piqued our spiritual journeys -- and I found myself remembering something from my childhood that I'd forgotten. About the time my parents took in a few members of a traveling musical group from Chicago that came to our small town, and our neighbors across the street had a fit because they were black.
In our very white town, this kind of bigotry was something I'd never experienced before. And it had a profound impact on my values today. I have an extremely short fuse for intolerance. For that unexpected moment in time, I am grateful for what it taught me.
Rev. Kate also pointed out that on our individual paths to perfection, we still argue about what evolution means.
I see this, sometimes good-naturedly, sometimes mean-spiritedly, in our own discussions -- from outsiders, as well as from within -- about Choice Motherhood.
The California single woman who now has 14 children, after delivering eight at once, churns up a tremendous amount of viewpoints about what is right and wrong. Are we right to make choices for ourselves, but then not allow others to make choices they believe are right to make? Who judges who is fit, and who is not? Is a large family worse off than a small family? Is a single-parent family worse off than a two-parent family? Can one woman really love and care for that many healthy and potentially unhealthy children? And if not, who bears responsibility for them? Do we get angry because we care, or because we think we're better than she is?
Most of these good questions. Without answers. But the discussion itself is good to have.
Again, I believe that we discover our own values in having conversation about what is important to us -- and don't need to always impose our own values onto others. What is important is that we learn what we need in order to become closer to the person we are at our core.
We evolve. As individuals, Rev. Kate said, whose edges are blurred and touching.
The church service also included a perfect example of evolution in action. One of the pillars of our church has been dispatched to Iraq for a year as a member of the National Guard. His family was encircled by the congregation; his daughter (my daughter's age) was encircled by her classmates. We used ritual, and words, and comfort shawls, and tears, to send him off. An individual, doing what he needs to do, whose edges have very much touched those of hundreds of people in his community -- and will continue to do so, in yet another community he finds himself connected to.
It is our own aspiration as Choice Moms. Individuals, in a community we have built ourselves, with edges touching.
for more about the community we could be building in our Choice Mom quest, see the ChoiceMoms.org website package this month about "finding partners"
As my daughter will tell you, I LOVE Darwin. And I'm not entirely sure why. Something about the random interconnection of life and its results as the evolutionary force of nature. It is why the novel I am slowly evolving myself is titled EVOLVE, and why my bedroom is filled with books about Darwin's theories.
At church, I admired again the words of our gifted writer/speaker Rev. Kate, as she pulled together disparate bits about how Evolution Rocks (look up the song lyrics), how the Church of England has published an apology for its treatment of Darwin's theory in his day, and how the Unfinished Business of life is the continuous pursuit of becoming who we are at our core.
"Evolution is," she said. We're never just done.
Life builds from our "successful mistakes," which is not the oxymoron we might otherwise believe it to be.
When I look at my children, I want them to have perfection. I want to tell them everything they need to know. I don't want them to fall down. I don't want them to get hurt. But, of course, they will.
Last weekend, my 10-year-old daughter did what I thought was not possible. She let a solicitor, a stranger, into the house while I was upstairs. Actually opened the door and let him in, because she didn't want to "not be nice" and make him stand in the cold.
She knew that this was a mistake. Thankfully, it was a mistake that was not tragic -- I kicked him out and she and I had an involved, emotional talk. But it freaked me out tremendously. How could she not KNOW this? Haven't I talked to her well enough? And for heaven's sake, how do I convince her that being "nice" is not always the best policy?
She had made a mistake. We talked about it. We learned from it. Hopefully we evolved from the experience. And perhaps that random encounter with a solicitor might actually help her avoid someone more harmful someday.
Rev. Kate also pointed out one of my favorite mantras: that we are formed from that which is both predictable, and unexpected.
We all need structure to keep us afloat. But it is in the unexpected paths -- such as Choice Motherhood, such as a child's questions -- where we discover who we really are.
The recent Facebook phenomenon of writing down 25 Random Things about ourselves is an indulgent little exercise. But it also reminds me of something interesting that I learned in a UU workshop a few years ago, when the simplest question from Rev. Frank led to profound moments of discovery for many of us in the room. He asked us simply to talk about the moments that piqued our spiritual journeys -- and I found myself remembering something from my childhood that I'd forgotten. About the time my parents took in a few members of a traveling musical group from Chicago that came to our small town, and our neighbors across the street had a fit because they were black.
In our very white town, this kind of bigotry was something I'd never experienced before. And it had a profound impact on my values today. I have an extremely short fuse for intolerance. For that unexpected moment in time, I am grateful for what it taught me.
Rev. Kate also pointed out that on our individual paths to perfection, we still argue about what evolution means.
I see this, sometimes good-naturedly, sometimes mean-spiritedly, in our own discussions -- from outsiders, as well as from within -- about Choice Motherhood.
The California single woman who now has 14 children, after delivering eight at once, churns up a tremendous amount of viewpoints about what is right and wrong. Are we right to make choices for ourselves, but then not allow others to make choices they believe are right to make? Who judges who is fit, and who is not? Is a large family worse off than a small family? Is a single-parent family worse off than a two-parent family? Can one woman really love and care for that many healthy and potentially unhealthy children? And if not, who bears responsibility for them? Do we get angry because we care, or because we think we're better than she is?
Most of these good questions. Without answers. But the discussion itself is good to have.
Again, I believe that we discover our own values in having conversation about what is important to us -- and don't need to always impose our own values onto others. What is important is that we learn what we need in order to become closer to the person we are at our core.
We evolve. As individuals, Rev. Kate said, whose edges are blurred and touching.
The church service also included a perfect example of evolution in action. One of the pillars of our church has been dispatched to Iraq for a year as a member of the National Guard. His family was encircled by the congregation; his daughter (my daughter's age) was encircled by her classmates. We used ritual, and words, and comfort shawls, and tears, to send him off. An individual, doing what he needs to do, whose edges have very much touched those of hundreds of people in his community -- and will continue to do so, in yet another community he finds himself connected to.
It is our own aspiration as Choice Moms. Individuals, in a community we have built ourselves, with edges touching.
for more about the community we could be building in our Choice Mom quest, see the ChoiceMoms.org website package this month about "finding partners"
Monday, January 5, 2009
becoming our own support network
This month on the ChoiceMoms.org website we are taking a special look at how we build our tribe as single parents, and why it is important.
Knowing hundreds of Choice Moms, and even some of the rare married parents, I know that the single most important factor in succeeding as a parent is having a strong support network.
Some of the women in the Thinking stage are afraid of taking this path on their own. Others, especially in the Becoming stage, home with newborns, think they are supposed to do this alone, and are more typically reluctant to ask for help.
Those of us in the Being stage tend to have the wisdom to know that we all need a wide support network -- even our married friends require more than one partner to succeed.
In 2009, it is a Choice Moms goal to build greater bridges in the community so that we in the Being stage can be there for those in the Thinking, Trying, Waiting and Becoming stages.
We are often our own best advocates. I hear it every day on the Choice Mom discussion board, when we congratulate each other on baby steps or offer insight into a woman's fears. (It always dismays me greatly when we squabble about petty things, but that is inevitable in every family.) And I see the euphoria that so many women get at the face-to-face Choice Mom networking events.
In this month's Waiting blog, there is a heart-rending story of a Choice Mom-in-the-making who had to quietly go back to work after finding out about her miscarriage, attempting to act stoic around colleagues who never knew she had conceived. She turned to the Choice Mom discussion board to share her sorrow.
At Choice Mom events, and in podcasts, we have captured some of the intense grief and anger that women in the Thinking stage can feel. Online we hear women in the Being stage admit that which they are afraid to say out loud to friends and family: single parenting is exhausting, isolating and often depressing. Single women who have been there and reached the other side as Moms can offer tremendous support, as we read in the January 2009 Thinking and Becoming blogs.
Choice Moms everywhere need to be there for the women who lose the support of family and friends they had thought they could count on. Such as the woman I know whose mother said news of her pregnancy was "the worst thing I've ever heard." The Thinker who was disinvited from a family holiday because of her plans. The small-town teacher shunned by work colleagues.
We need to help these women find new support in us.
For the sleep-deprived new mom exhausted with trying to figure out the diaper genie and the baby carrier and how to interpret her baby's cries, we need to share our own survival stories.
And within our own circle -- dealing with the stress of kids who forget to change their underwear everyday, and have to be reminded to brush hair and teeth before the bush comes, and squabble with siblings -- we need to remind each other of the importance of friendships outside of mothering. Snapping occurs much less frequently when playdates aren't the only item on our socializing agenda.
A challenge of Choice Motherhood is that we're often older than other parents who have kids the age of our children. We commonly lose a taste for dating and don't easily engage in intimate relationships.
We do naturally meet new people through shared playground, church and school activities. But we also need to consciously make the effort to build our networks, and the ChoiceMoms.org website gives advice about how to do that if we've lost the way.
We should never be everything to our children, and our children should never be everything to us.
How have you found support?
Knowing hundreds of Choice Moms, and even some of the rare married parents, I know that the single most important factor in succeeding as a parent is having a strong support network.
Some of the women in the Thinking stage are afraid of taking this path on their own. Others, especially in the Becoming stage, home with newborns, think they are supposed to do this alone, and are more typically reluctant to ask for help.
Those of us in the Being stage tend to have the wisdom to know that we all need a wide support network -- even our married friends require more than one partner to succeed.
In 2009, it is a Choice Moms goal to build greater bridges in the community so that we in the Being stage can be there for those in the Thinking, Trying, Waiting and Becoming stages.
We are often our own best advocates. I hear it every day on the Choice Mom discussion board, when we congratulate each other on baby steps or offer insight into a woman's fears. (It always dismays me greatly when we squabble about petty things, but that is inevitable in every family.) And I see the euphoria that so many women get at the face-to-face Choice Mom networking events.
In this month's Waiting blog, there is a heart-rending story of a Choice Mom-in-the-making who had to quietly go back to work after finding out about her miscarriage, attempting to act stoic around colleagues who never knew she had conceived. She turned to the Choice Mom discussion board to share her sorrow.
At Choice Mom events, and in podcasts, we have captured some of the intense grief and anger that women in the Thinking stage can feel. Online we hear women in the Being stage admit that which they are afraid to say out loud to friends and family: single parenting is exhausting, isolating and often depressing. Single women who have been there and reached the other side as Moms can offer tremendous support, as we read in the January 2009 Thinking and Becoming blogs.
Choice Moms everywhere need to be there for the women who lose the support of family and friends they had thought they could count on. Such as the woman I know whose mother said news of her pregnancy was "the worst thing I've ever heard." The Thinker who was disinvited from a family holiday because of her plans. The small-town teacher shunned by work colleagues.
We need to help these women find new support in us.
For the sleep-deprived new mom exhausted with trying to figure out the diaper genie and the baby carrier and how to interpret her baby's cries, we need to share our own survival stories.
And within our own circle -- dealing with the stress of kids who forget to change their underwear everyday, and have to be reminded to brush hair and teeth before the bush comes, and squabble with siblings -- we need to remind each other of the importance of friendships outside of mothering. Snapping occurs much less frequently when playdates aren't the only item on our socializing agenda.
A challenge of Choice Motherhood is that we're often older than other parents who have kids the age of our children. We commonly lose a taste for dating and don't easily engage in intimate relationships.
We do naturally meet new people through shared playground, church and school activities. But we also need to consciously make the effort to build our networks, and the ChoiceMoms.org website gives advice about how to do that if we've lost the way.
We should never be everything to our children, and our children should never be everything to us.
How have you found support?
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Owning the holidays
I have a major bugaboo about Thanksgiving. It's never been a particularly friendly holiday for me, ironically. Started when my childhood home was damaged by fire, and water hose, and smoke, the day before Thanksgiving and caused long-lasting emotional turmoil in our family for some time thereafter.
Then there was the annual bout of strep throat that typically left me unable to eat in subsequent years (psychosomatic or not) for the Big Dinner.
The many years feeling out of place at other family's dinners when I was transplanted to the East Coast and could afford only to come home at Christmas.
The dinner with friends when we didn't understand that defrosting would require days in the refrigerator, not a bacteria-brewing day on the countertop.
My own skewed perceptions that Thanksgiving is for giant cuddly family time with extended relatives arriving and filling up the house. My actual family always consisted of two parents (still together, which is an amazing blessing), one brother, one grandparent. My dad had one sister and step-family we never saw. My mom has one brother.
Last year the kids and I visited my grandmother in the nursing home. Not quite warm and fuzzy, but important. It was my last major holiday with her before she died.
The next day I marched into an Apple store to replace my three-month-old computer because of a hot chocolate spill. I was feeling highly stressed about that and other personal matters that could not be fixed....and within moments was sobbing uncontrollably in front of the Apple sales guy.
Many of us have our own stories of unhappy holidays that didn't fulfill our expectations. Sometimes we dread the holidays because it forces us to interact with family members who don't understand us, or our choices. Or we watch nieces and nephews joyous and exuberant and cute, feeling a bit invisible because we don't yet have children of our own to celebrate with them. Or it becomes the occasion for younger sister to announce her engagement to Perfect Man. Or it simply becomes an exhausting time of shopping, wrapping and traveling with our little ones, putting Bah Humbug into our already stressful life.
Of course, some of us embrace the holidays as an opportunity to do service in the community, to show our older children about what it means to give.
And many of us LOVE the holidays, as a time to celebrate rituals with loved ones.
I'm writing today to tell you how, this year, I OWNED my Thanksgiving.
The kids and I had a few invitations to dinners. I considered hosting. My Mom -- warm and toasty with Dad and friends in Arizona -- had that "sorry" sound in her voice when she heard that we intended to stay home alone.
But what the kids and I did with our Thanksgiving is create our own ritual. We stayed in our pajamas all day. We each picked four things we wanted to do.
The list was not the usual TO DO list that usually takes over. It consisted of: craft (flying paper turkeys on a hanger), puzzle (Transformers), cooking (chicken with beer can up its butt, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, fancy bread), manicures and massage (yes, my son is still sporting his pink nails proudly), Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium (all three of us cuddled together on couch with hot chocolate and popcorn), disco party (to Hedwig!), and more.
We had a three-member-family extravaganza. And it was deliriously brilliant.
And there's more: that Apple sales guy? He was part of this year's ritual as well. The kids and I made a gift basket to celebrate my store breakdown. Because since then, his cousin has been responsible for helping me get the Choice Chat podcast running smoothly, and for producing my first CD for Choice Moms, about answering the "Do I Have a Dad?" question. His brother has become my tech consultant and resident handyman. And the sales guy himself has recently become my webcast developer, currently working with me on a Choice Moms DVD about "building your support network."
OWN your rituals. Take the REINS. DO what you can. LET GO of what you can't. BUILD your network.
There is much to give thanks for, when we keep moving forward to create our own meaningful short-term and long-term communities.
Then there was the annual bout of strep throat that typically left me unable to eat in subsequent years (psychosomatic or not) for the Big Dinner.
The many years feeling out of place at other family's dinners when I was transplanted to the East Coast and could afford only to come home at Christmas.
The dinner with friends when we didn't understand that defrosting would require days in the refrigerator, not a bacteria-brewing day on the countertop.
My own skewed perceptions that Thanksgiving is for giant cuddly family time with extended relatives arriving and filling up the house. My actual family always consisted of two parents (still together, which is an amazing blessing), one brother, one grandparent. My dad had one sister and step-family we never saw. My mom has one brother.
Last year the kids and I visited my grandmother in the nursing home. Not quite warm and fuzzy, but important. It was my last major holiday with her before she died.
The next day I marched into an Apple store to replace my three-month-old computer because of a hot chocolate spill. I was feeling highly stressed about that and other personal matters that could not be fixed....and within moments was sobbing uncontrollably in front of the Apple sales guy.
Many of us have our own stories of unhappy holidays that didn't fulfill our expectations. Sometimes we dread the holidays because it forces us to interact with family members who don't understand us, or our choices. Or we watch nieces and nephews joyous and exuberant and cute, feeling a bit invisible because we don't yet have children of our own to celebrate with them. Or it becomes the occasion for younger sister to announce her engagement to Perfect Man. Or it simply becomes an exhausting time of shopping, wrapping and traveling with our little ones, putting Bah Humbug into our already stressful life.
Of course, some of us embrace the holidays as an opportunity to do service in the community, to show our older children about what it means to give.
And many of us LOVE the holidays, as a time to celebrate rituals with loved ones.
I'm writing today to tell you how, this year, I OWNED my Thanksgiving.
The kids and I had a few invitations to dinners. I considered hosting. My Mom -- warm and toasty with Dad and friends in Arizona -- had that "sorry" sound in her voice when she heard that we intended to stay home alone.
But what the kids and I did with our Thanksgiving is create our own ritual. We stayed in our pajamas all day. We each picked four things we wanted to do.
The list was not the usual TO DO list that usually takes over. It consisted of: craft (flying paper turkeys on a hanger), puzzle (Transformers), cooking (chicken with beer can up its butt, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, fancy bread), manicures and massage (yes, my son is still sporting his pink nails proudly), Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium (all three of us cuddled together on couch with hot chocolate and popcorn), disco party (to Hedwig!), and more.
We had a three-member-family extravaganza. And it was deliriously brilliant.
And there's more: that Apple sales guy? He was part of this year's ritual as well. The kids and I made a gift basket to celebrate my store breakdown. Because since then, his cousin has been responsible for helping me get the Choice Chat podcast running smoothly, and for producing my first CD for Choice Moms, about answering the "Do I Have a Dad?" question. His brother has become my tech consultant and resident handyman. And the sales guy himself has recently become my webcast developer, currently working with me on a Choice Moms DVD about "building your support network."
OWN your rituals. Take the REINS. DO what you can. LET GO of what you can't. BUILD your network.
There is much to give thanks for, when we keep moving forward to create our own meaningful short-term and long-term communities.
Friday, November 14, 2008
On reliability, support and independence
I recently returned from a second networking workshop for Choice Moms, which I conducted in the San Francisco Bay Area, following up a similar event in New York City last month.
Putting them back-to-back, what have I learned about the Choice Mom community?
Yes, we are strongly self-sufficient, intelligent, fun women. And yes, we derive a great deal of strength from being able to meet, connect, share. But there were surprises.
In New York City, the conversation circle about "grieving the dream" was bursting at the seams with participants (topic of our latest podcast). Single Mother by Choice founder Jane Mattes' talk about "Answering the Daddy Question" was wonderfully humorous and reassuring (now captured as part of a 50-minute CD available in the ChoiceMoms.org Products section). In the Bay Area, the small group talking about at-home insemination was insightful and warm. The large group interested in discussing "parenting over 40" had to be moved to a bigger space.
The group chat about Choice Mom survival tricks (which you'll hear soon on an upcoming podcast) focused in both cities on the importance of support networks, and being able to ask for help.
Two aspects of the Choice journey that I've benefited greatly from.
Before having my kids, I could do everything alone. This was a point of pride. Also a lack of faith in being able to trust others.
We need to be able to rely on other people. When there isn't anyone dependable around -- a true partner -- we can become bitter about it...defensive about it (I don't really need anyone anyway)...joke about being 'control freaks'...perhaps melt down every once in awhile...simply do the turtle shell retreat and build our life around no one else.
And then our kids arrive, and we can't possibly do it alone. First we need someone to watch the baby while we nap, or to cook a few dinners (see recent Becoming blog). Then we need a stranger to carry our stroller down a flight of stairs while we tote groceries and baby. Our baby gets sick and -- panicked and exhausted and unable to leave home -- we call on a neighbor to pick up medicine.
And they do.
And we are amazed. We are touched. We are grateful for the reminder that good people exist who will help us, if we let them, if we ask.
We get better at recognizing who adds to our life, rather than takes away. We re-prioritize who we want in our life. Slowly, as our exhaustion with a newborn and our distraction with a toddler gives way, we find ourselves with school-aged kids and we're open to getting involved -- involved! -- with school activities, church events, recreational pursuits, social life, ME time.
We look around and see how much stronger our lives are because of all the new people in it.
It's not easy to trust this will happen before you get there. In the Bay Area, on a gray day, not-yet-moms talked about fears of always being alone. New moms talked about being too fatigued to feel connected to anyone else. And with toddlers running free, making new friends, occasionally forcing moms to leap to their feet for intervention, there also emerged a great, bonding energy. The high that comes from recognizing that we aren't alone -- people with similar values are around us, rising to meet similar challenges, able and willing to offer insight that can help us take a new step if we need it.
We learn, through our kids, that what makes us strong is not our independence, but our interdependence.
We learn and grow, not simply from virtual connections online, but from real, live interactions when we can look someone in the eye and recognize something of ourselves there.
Emily wrote: "I just wanted to thank you for hosting a wonderful event last weekend. I really enjoyed connecting with real people after all these months of digital and written, relatively silent thinking and doing."
Fiona said: "What a supportive group of women you managed to bring together. I've never felt so sure of the decision I was making!"
Felicia reported: "I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to be surrounded by strong, funny, insightful like minded women. Especially for a group like us, who often don't feel we get the support we would like to have. You may have support from some friends and some family...but there is something almost sacred about being amongst others like ourselves, who truly get it. It feels very warm and safe."
As I write this, Garrison Keillor is on the headphones and these words slide out in his marvelously melodious voice: "It's November. Winter's coming. We need warmth. We need life. So we reach out for each other."
That's what being a mother helps us do, so much more consciously than we ever did when we were truly single.
Where should we reach out in 2009? I'm collecting input about which cities should host the next 2 or 3 Choice Mom networking events. Please vote here.
Putting them back-to-back, what have I learned about the Choice Mom community?
Yes, we are strongly self-sufficient, intelligent, fun women. And yes, we derive a great deal of strength from being able to meet, connect, share. But there were surprises.
In New York City, the conversation circle about "grieving the dream" was bursting at the seams with participants (topic of our latest podcast). Single Mother by Choice founder Jane Mattes' talk about "Answering the Daddy Question" was wonderfully humorous and reassuring (now captured as part of a 50-minute CD available in the ChoiceMoms.org Products section). In the Bay Area, the small group talking about at-home insemination was insightful and warm. The large group interested in discussing "parenting over 40" had to be moved to a bigger space.
The group chat about Choice Mom survival tricks (which you'll hear soon on an upcoming podcast) focused in both cities on the importance of support networks, and being able to ask for help.
Two aspects of the Choice journey that I've benefited greatly from.
Before having my kids, I could do everything alone. This was a point of pride. Also a lack of faith in being able to trust others.
We need to be able to rely on other people. When there isn't anyone dependable around -- a true partner -- we can become bitter about it...defensive about it (I don't really need anyone anyway)...joke about being 'control freaks'...perhaps melt down every once in awhile...simply do the turtle shell retreat and build our life around no one else.
And then our kids arrive, and we can't possibly do it alone. First we need someone to watch the baby while we nap, or to cook a few dinners (see recent Becoming blog). Then we need a stranger to carry our stroller down a flight of stairs while we tote groceries and baby. Our baby gets sick and -- panicked and exhausted and unable to leave home -- we call on a neighbor to pick up medicine.
And they do.
And we are amazed. We are touched. We are grateful for the reminder that good people exist who will help us, if we let them, if we ask.
We get better at recognizing who adds to our life, rather than takes away. We re-prioritize who we want in our life. Slowly, as our exhaustion with a newborn and our distraction with a toddler gives way, we find ourselves with school-aged kids and we're open to getting involved -- involved! -- with school activities, church events, recreational pursuits, social life, ME time.
We look around and see how much stronger our lives are because of all the new people in it.
It's not easy to trust this will happen before you get there. In the Bay Area, on a gray day, not-yet-moms talked about fears of always being alone. New moms talked about being too fatigued to feel connected to anyone else. And with toddlers running free, making new friends, occasionally forcing moms to leap to their feet for intervention, there also emerged a great, bonding energy. The high that comes from recognizing that we aren't alone -- people with similar values are around us, rising to meet similar challenges, able and willing to offer insight that can help us take a new step if we need it.
We learn, through our kids, that what makes us strong is not our independence, but our interdependence.
We learn and grow, not simply from virtual connections online, but from real, live interactions when we can look someone in the eye and recognize something of ourselves there.
Emily wrote: "I just wanted to thank you for hosting a wonderful event last weekend. I really enjoyed connecting with real people after all these months of digital and written, relatively silent thinking and doing."
Fiona said: "What a supportive group of women you managed to bring together. I've never felt so sure of the decision I was making!"
Felicia reported: "I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to be surrounded by strong, funny, insightful like minded women. Especially for a group like us, who often don't feel we get the support we would like to have. You may have support from some friends and some family...but there is something almost sacred about being amongst others like ourselves, who truly get it. It feels very warm and safe."
As I write this, Garrison Keillor is on the headphones and these words slide out in his marvelously melodious voice: "It's November. Winter's coming. We need warmth. We need life. So we reach out for each other."
That's what being a mother helps us do, so much more consciously than we ever did when we were truly single.
Where should we reach out in 2009? I'm collecting input about which cities should host the next 2 or 3 Choice Mom networking events. Please vote here.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Living our one life with pride of ownership
Visiting minister Keith Kron told our Unitarian Universalist church a story a few weeks ago about The Possum. And it's still sticking with me.
The story was about this mysterious creature who took up residence upside down on the tree across from a cafe where magical things tended to happen. He hung there, bringing residents together in wonder, until a distant neighbor, living alone in grief after the death of his spouse, visited the cafe. The man's encounter with the possum helped him realize his next purpose in life: taking in stray animals on his lonely farm. The possum's work was done and he magically disappeared as unexpectedly as he had come.
Keith Kron also told his own personal story of finding new meaning in a magical way. As a gay teacher in a conservative area from a traditional religious family, he made a new connection and had a revelation: he was unhappily living four separate lives. He was keeping parts of his identity private, never wholly integrated. He shared certain stories with some people, other stories elsewhere. As a consequence, he never felt he was able to take full pride of ownership in who he was.
It takes a willingness to be vulnerable, to merge parts of your private life with your public life, in order to live fully open and wide to what the world does have to offer. It takes a measure of risk to be willing to let go of secret identities and multiple lives in order to intregrate and tell your one story.
His ultimate message is that in order to feel the magic of our purpose in life, we have to tell our stories without shame and live our one life.
When we are Thinkers on the Choice Mom journey, some of us are fearful of how others might react to the choices we are making. Some of us worry that we won't find acceptance from family and peers and colleagues. We sometimes grieve for what we don't have, and project that sense of loss onto the child who is not yet with us, wondering if they will be angry someday about growing up without a father. We might feel shame that in this one area of our life -- finding a life partner -- success has eluded us.
After we become Moms, I've noticed that we tend to realize that what others think of our choice no longer matters to us as much. WE know what motherhood offers us. The only opinion that matters is that of our child, and as they grow older -- generally happy and healthy -- we can breathe easier. We feel more free to tell our story proudly.
In the coming year, it is my goal to bring more of us together as a community so that our pride of ownership in Choice Motherhood can be shared by women who need to feel our strength.
As proactive, resourceful women, we have a lot to be happy about. We are creating new meaning in our lives, with rules that might not work for everyone, but that work for us and our children.
The energy of Thinkers and Moms who connected at the recent Choice Moms networking workshop in New York City was a great reminder for me that we need more opportunities to find magic and inspiration from each other.
I've got five cities in mind as destinations for these gatherings in 2009. But I'd like to hear from you. Where should we meet? Where should we hang up our possum and share our stories so that more of us can discover from each other what we need to learn in order to take the next logical steps in our individual journeys?
The story was about this mysterious creature who took up residence upside down on the tree across from a cafe where magical things tended to happen. He hung there, bringing residents together in wonder, until a distant neighbor, living alone in grief after the death of his spouse, visited the cafe. The man's encounter with the possum helped him realize his next purpose in life: taking in stray animals on his lonely farm. The possum's work was done and he magically disappeared as unexpectedly as he had come.
Keith Kron also told his own personal story of finding new meaning in a magical way. As a gay teacher in a conservative area from a traditional religious family, he made a new connection and had a revelation: he was unhappily living four separate lives. He was keeping parts of his identity private, never wholly integrated. He shared certain stories with some people, other stories elsewhere. As a consequence, he never felt he was able to take full pride of ownership in who he was.
It takes a willingness to be vulnerable, to merge parts of your private life with your public life, in order to live fully open and wide to what the world does have to offer. It takes a measure of risk to be willing to let go of secret identities and multiple lives in order to intregrate and tell your one story.
His ultimate message is that in order to feel the magic of our purpose in life, we have to tell our stories without shame and live our one life.
When we are Thinkers on the Choice Mom journey, some of us are fearful of how others might react to the choices we are making. Some of us worry that we won't find acceptance from family and peers and colleagues. We sometimes grieve for what we don't have, and project that sense of loss onto the child who is not yet with us, wondering if they will be angry someday about growing up without a father. We might feel shame that in this one area of our life -- finding a life partner -- success has eluded us.
After we become Moms, I've noticed that we tend to realize that what others think of our choice no longer matters to us as much. WE know what motherhood offers us. The only opinion that matters is that of our child, and as they grow older -- generally happy and healthy -- we can breathe easier. We feel more free to tell our story proudly.
In the coming year, it is my goal to bring more of us together as a community so that our pride of ownership in Choice Motherhood can be shared by women who need to feel our strength.
As proactive, resourceful women, we have a lot to be happy about. We are creating new meaning in our lives, with rules that might not work for everyone, but that work for us and our children.
The energy of Thinkers and Moms who connected at the recent Choice Moms networking workshop in New York City was a great reminder for me that we need more opportunities to find magic and inspiration from each other.
I've got five cities in mind as destinations for these gatherings in 2009. But I'd like to hear from you. Where should we meet? Where should we hang up our possum and share our stories so that more of us can discover from each other what we need to learn in order to take the next logical steps in our individual journeys?
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