Hands Free Mama Giveaway!

Many of you already follow Rachel Macy Stafford’s blog and are in tune with her Hands Free Journey of letting go of distractions and perfection in order to live a fuller life based on what really matters.  I was fished in, hook line and sinker, after reading just one paragraph a few years ago in one of her posts, which highlighted the impression your kids and the people around you get when you’re busy working, playing, or talking on your mobile device in their presence.  It went something like this:

• Whatever you’re doing on your phone is more important than me
• You are my model and you are showing me how I should use my own cell phone

If you haven’t checked out her HandsFreeMama site, I would highly recommend you doing so immediately.  It completely changed my outlook on life, and my behavior soon followed suit. Stafford’s first book was recently published and it instantly hit the New York Time’s Best Seller List.  

Hands Free Mama details the pitfalls of multi-tasking all the time, adding to the already warped pace of our world.  It provides an easy guide to just setting down the technology and going “hands free,” even if just for small bits at a time until you are able to fully confront your addition.  The result is re-establishing honest-to-goodness live interactions with people and rediscovering those things that are near and dear to your heart by being fully present.

One lucky reader will receive a FREE copy of Hands Free Mama, compliments of Zondervan. 

Required disclosure:  Zondervan provided the book, valued at $15.95.  All opinions are my own.  I will provide the randomly selected winner the paperback Hands Free Mama book.

Simply click below to enter.

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Take a Closer Look

I could hear the crying from the girls’ bedroom the second I climbed up the basement stairs. 

What this time? I thought to myself, exasperated.  My 5-year-old is having a hard time these days with her emotions.  Tears seem to be a daily occurrence and the source usually has something to do with her older sister.  They share a room, and while they get along famously and still play together on most days, they also get on each others’ nerves greatly; they both like to be in control.

I climbed the ladder to my daughter’s bunk and found her crumpled in the corner, wailing in misery as big crocodile tears ran down her face. 

“What’s wrong, Sweet Girl?” I inquired at eye level.

Through heaving sobs, she managed to convey to me that her older sister had moved her babies’ crib out of the room and she wanted them to stay because she likes her babies to sleep in her room with her. 

Assessing the situation before I uttered a word, I saw her twin doll babies lying at the foot of her bed, instead of situated in the monstrous double-decker crib, that as of a few moments ago, sat at the entrance of their bedroom, but now was nowhere to be found.  The side-by-side double stroller that she’d been pushing throughout the house for the past few days was nowhere to be seen either.  I questioned my older daughter with my eyes without uttering a word.

“There’s just not room in this small bedroom for all of your baby stuff and for both of us.   I have to move the stroller from in front of my closet just so I can get dressed every day.  And the crib is blocking the door from closing at night.  They just have to go downstairs with the rest of our toys,” her big sister explained too her patiently.

Made sense to me.  I didn’t need to intervene here, I told myself. 

“It’s okay, babe.  There’s no need to be upset.  It’s not a big deal; we just need to move the baby stuff downstairs.”

As new tears rolled down her face,  my baby girl whimpered, “But it’s a big deal to me!”

Stopped in my tracks.  She was right.  It was a big deal to her.  It was my kindergartener’s entire world.  Babies.

Although she has numerous dollies and strollers and play pack n plays and carriers, she’d demonstrated patience and restraint for the past year, saving her weekly family economy money from performing chores and meeting responsibilities, in order to buy twin bitty babies and a twin stroller.  She’s talked about it every single day for the last year:  what she’ll do with them, what she’ll name them, where she’ll take them, and how it will feel to have twins. 

Over the weekend, she was overjoyed to open an early birthday gift of the coveted babies and stroller.  She took no mind of the fact that one of the dolls, baby Elizabeth, was her own 10-year-old hand-me-down from her sister, of whom she’s been playing with for the past few years.  She didn’t mind that the 2nd “twin” was simply bought used to match.  She didn’t notice the wear and tear on the pre-owned stroller t either.  All she cared about was those sweet little baby sisters that needed a Mommy to love them.  She quickly chose the name Eliza for the 2nd doll, and has spent the past 4 days adoringly caring for those dolls.  She’d roped her older sister into the excitement as well.  My 11-year-old has played with my little one and the babies nonstop without complaint, and had even carved out a space for the baby paraphernalia in their tiny shared bedroom.  She even offered to care for the twins while home sick from school earlier in the week, as the twins' mom would have to leave them to attend kindergarten.

As all good things usually come to an end, my pre-teen daughter had finally grown tired of the doting and was ready to move on.  My younger daughter, however, was still madly in love with the idea of caring for those babies.

We eventually came to a solution that worked for both girls, moving the stroller to the basement, and rearranging some furniture to accommodate the crib so Elizabeth and Eliza can sleep in the same room with their mommy. 

But that one sentence keeps ringing through my ears.  It’s a big deal to me.   The idea that something so nominal to one person, could so greatly affect another, is something to pay attention to.  It seems that if we could figure out what matters and what doesn’t to an individual, a group of people, or an entire region, we could solve so many problems before they even arise.  It explains so much about our society:  who we surround ourselves with, what motivates us, when we take action and when we don’t, where we draw a line in the sand, why we make the decisions we do, and how we react to certain situations….all based on what we hold near and dear. 

As a parent, we oftentimes become so accustomed to putting out fires we’ve seen flame before and barking out instructions to solve familiar problems that we forget the most important step in the equation:  assessing the situation.  Sometimes it’s an open and closed case and what you see is what you get, i.e stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.  But the majority of situations require gathering information we cannot see, which often requires listening.  Seems easy enough, but with our buy-in to this fast paced society that surrounds us, we often bypass this step in the name of efficiency or share it with other tasks, thereby diluting its effectiveness. 

There’s not a one amongst us who doesn’t want to really know their child, or their spouse or loved one, for that matter:  who they are and what makes them tick.  We sometimes think, though, that we already know the scoop based on what we see or what we’ve experienced in the past.  Most people change or alter their focal points, though, over time, and in the case of children, it can happen in the blink of an eye.  What was crucial last week can be replaced with a more vital stance by week’s end.  I find that every time I think I know anything, I am quickly reminded that I don’t know squat.  So today I’m pledging to listen, not just hear, but really process, what the people around me say, instead of assuming the situation, tone, or sentiment.  I’m going to view each interaction as an opening into the inner workings of the person, which only enhances my ability to better communicate and care for each.  Want to take a closer look with me?

Just Be With Your Kids

No matter how hard we try to slow down during the busy holiday season, sometimes we get caught up in the hustle and bustle.  With gifts to buy, people to visit, services to attend, and cookies to bake, sometimes we forget what's most important is standing right in front of us, our kids.  Our kids need our presence more than the presents need to be wrapped or the tree needs to be trimmed or the walkway needs to be shoveled.

Yesterday morning I woke up early to fit in a workout before the kids rolled out of bed, anxious to start their days.  After the workout, I intended to take a quick shower, do a few minutes of work, then make breakfast for the girls and prepare their lunch so I could be ready for some holiday shopping and baking later in the day.  My plan was shattered when the kids woke up early and wanted to snuggle with Mom in front of the twinkling Christmas tree.  They didn’t care about playing or reading books or watching the boob tube; they wanted to sit with me and just be.  

The tree needed watering and last evening’s dishes needed washing, but when my eldest daughter said, “Mom, can you come sit with us for a few minutes?” I moved on impulse toward my girls.

We sat on the sofa admiring the darkness outside the window, the soft light illuminating from the angel at the top of the tree, and comfortably enjoyed each other’s company without saying a single word.  We held hands, snuggled under the blanket, and just existed in peace.  

It could have been five minutes or an hour, as the clock stood still.  We were afforded a moment in time without technology, task lists, obligations or organized activities.  While none of us consciously acknowledged it, instinctually we knew it was time to cast off the cumbersome pace of our lives and rest not only our bodies and minds, but also our spirits.  I looked at my kids and realized even though they’re growing up so fast, they still need their parents.  They don’t need us to necessarily do anything for them or give anything to them.  They just need us to be with them.

After a bit, we slowly started our day, but a different sort of day than usual, without routines to adhere to.  Beds didn’t get made, but I had the pleasure of watching my kids open their advent calendar and one child treasuring the gift singularly for a minute before sharing it with the other child who didn't get a gift, as they rotate days on the calendar. Their room didn’t get cleaned but the excitement shared from my youngest over an upcoming visitor that afternoon made it worth a week of piled up dirty laundry!  My shower didn't get taken but I had time to make an extra batch of oatmeal with love for my eldest, who wasn't satisfied with just one bowl.  The trash didn't get taken out, but we enjoyed a morning sing-a-long of Deck the Halls and I realized just what an amazing piano player my daughter had become.  

The impromptu family time fed all of our souls and we had a day like no other, where we each appreciated every single moment of the day.  I saw it in my girls’ attitudes, actions, and moods and I felt it in my core.  I hope the lesson of just being with my kids stays with me always, so that when I’m in the kitchen baking later today, I don’t prioritize the consistency of the cookie dough over my daughter’s request to for a hug and some quiet time.  I hope that my plan of painting the girls’ nails like candy canes over the weekend doesn’t trump their need to just relax and listen to holiday music together.  And I hope that a quick run ‘to see a man about a dog’ doesn’t take precedence over an afternoon of unscripted family time.  It’s the holidays and time to what better time to take action to NOT take action. Just be, just exist, just enjoy time with your kids and family.  Scratch off the shoulds and have to’s for today and just be with your kids. 

Hats Off to the Working Parents

Just got a call from the Girl Scout leader from my daughter’s school.  

“Our meeting is over and your (4^th grade) daughter is here and says she’s supposed to walk home, but it’s dark outside.  Did you want her to walk home?”

I hadn’t thought about that.  Of course it’s dark in the late afternoon in the early winter in Chicago, even though I can't see that as I sit inside the windowless cubicle of an office.

"She's fine" I tell the troop leader, hoping the extra confidence in my voice quelches my own feeling of unease about the situation.

After that it was the piano teacher calling me from my own front door step telling me he’s ringing the bell and no one’s home.  He’s partially right.  I’m not home but my kids and the babysitter are and they probably can’t hear the bell.  With a phone cradled under each ear, we arranged for his entrance.

Last week it was opening the fridge door to make lunches before school to find no food.  The after-work market stop just didn’t happen as it wasn’t in position 1, 2, or 3 of my priority list.

Any of these things could happen to anyone.   But these things aren't supposed to happen to me.  You see, I like to think of myself as relatively in control of most situations.  But that was then as a stay-at-home mom.  This is now.  I recently took on a temporary part-time job.  I knew I had bit off more than I can chew in the time department.  The hours were more than I wanted.  The hours were more than I could afford to give. The hours are ones that I now borrow from other people and things.

I knew that taking on the role of working outside of the home would have a price attached to it.  I honestly thought the price would just affect me, though.  I assumed that the hours I would work would take away from my much-needed free time, my time alone to write or spend time with friends or create new kickboxing playlists.

I also knew subconsciously that the job would mean less time with my family, as I'd need to spend more time getting daily chores done when I'd normally be hanging out with my partner or kids.  What I hadn't considered at all, though, was the absolute crippling effect me working would have on my self-esteem,as I started to feel like I was screwing up all the things outside of the workplace, the things that really matter to me.

It started with little things, like not having enough time to make the girls' lunches for school, so my partner began stepping in to help.  Then it moved on to not being able to help out at my daughter's school or on field trips, or even make it to the school for drop-off or pickup.  I then hit the plateau of picking up my younger daughter late from preschool, as in the-only-kid-left-in-the-class-late.

Although overwhelming if one has time to ponder these things, I instead laughed off those warning signals as being temporary setbacks, since the job would be over in few months.  Then the shit hit the fan.  We moved to a new home.  Something that should have been so exciting and fun, instead pushed me into official overload.  With no time to unpack and even less time to help the girls, much less my girlfriend and I, adjust to our new surrounding, I realized I was digging myself a hole.  With work hours borrowing from home hours, my attention has started to wane from important things, like quality time with my partner.  Doing or thinking so many things while I'm talking to her, as I constantly feel "in the weeds," I sometimes forget what was even said.  Where a few months ago I would have taken a few minutes to explain a viewpoint on something we disagreed on, I find myself today just losing my patience and temper and stomping off with the issue unresolved.  Today I feel myself starting to unravel. 

Then there's my health, or general well-being.  I'm giving no reverence to my body whatsoever.  A cold turned into a month-long infection, which led to lack of exercise and loss of strength.  In turn, I've grown constantly tired while running and thinking at warped speed.  The headaches I've developed while constantly multi-tasking play second-fiddle to the numerous accidents and injuries I've had due to falling.

Falling down a lot is a part of who I am.  I'm a clutz, without a lot of grace on my feet on a good day.  Add to that me physically running from place to place trying to finish tasks at home and at work, and I'm an accident waiting to happen.  Falling up the stairs, tripping on the sidewalk, and falling asleep at the computer while holding a steaming hot cup of tea all leave marks.  Marks on my body, one, and marks on my psyche, two.  I feel like an absolute crazy person, spinning my wheels without actually getting anywhere.    

Maybe I’ve just been out of the working parent scene so long that I’m having a hard time adjusting getting back into it.  Maybe my once-stellar multi-tasking skills have dried up as I’ve gotten older.  Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill.  Or maybe it truly is difficult to juggle working and family life.

I’ve run the gamet in the last decade with work.  I’ve done it from home, I’ve done it in an office, I’ve done it on the road, and I’ve done it with both traditional and non-traditional hours.  What I’ve found is that it’s plain-out tough to do, as you’re always sacrificing one thing for another.  If it’s not the kids, it's the work performance.  If it’s not the sex, it's the PTA meeting.  If it’s not the laundry, then it's the friendships.  Something always suffers.

Lucky for me, I’m in a temporary work situation that will end soon and I will go back to being at home with my kids and my partner, where I truly believe I belong, not because that's what anyone should be doing, but because that's what works best for us.   

Most of the working parents I know have jobs that are permanent, though, making their juggling acts a regular routine.  Kudos to those parents.  I applaud your ability to hold it together.  I admire the way you balance your priorities and your demands.  I respect that way you let things bounce off of your back and just roll with it.  I wish I possessed more of those traits.

But I don't.  And I'm too tired from working to hone that skill set.  So instead I salute you working parents for all that you do, for the balance you initiate, and for the superman cape you hide in your lower left office drawer.

Giving Thanks

“Dear God.  Thank you for the Sullivans, Harry and Rosie.  Thank you for the teachers.  Please help us not to fight.  Oh ya, and thank you for teaching us to be polite.  Amen.”

Spoken like a true three-year-old, whose head is filled with the recent good time spent at the home of good friends, days spent picketing with the teachers during the strike, and a new babysitter who stresses no fighting on the playground and compliments my daughter on her manners.

If only our parental days could be wrapped up so conveniently in an evening prayer of thanks and call for help.  But can’t it?  Of course it can.  We sometimes get so caught up in the daily grind that we forget to just take a minute to breathe, appreciate life and the little things that make it worthwhile.  We seldom acknowledge that we can use some guidance every now and then because we don’t have all the answers.

I sometimes laugh at myself for thinking I have such a stressful life and playing into the drama of it all.  I tend to get going so fast in my daily quest to complete as many tasks as possible, that I sometimes physically hurt myself!  I literally run around the house or the neighborhood or the school or the office at warp speed.  I’ve been known to trip, fall, and crash into people and things.  

It’s usually after one of those events that one of my kids says, “Mom, just slow down.  It’s not the end of the world.  Just relax!”

Again, my children teach me instead of the other way around.  It’s truly humbling to listen to the sincerity in their voices and the wisdom of their words.  Each evening after I’ve been told to slow down by one of my kids, it never fails that they include me in their prayers, either at the dinner table or before bed.

“Thank you for Little Mama, and please help her slow down and not run into things.”

I’ve found that when I do take the time to slow down, whether it is for a moment of prayer or appreciation, a few minutes of meditation, or sometimes just a short period of rest or doing absolutely nothing, it sets the tone for calmness.  I feel renewed, restored, and ready to face most anything that comes my way.  Conversely, when I keep stubbornly butting my head up against a wall, refusing to take a few minutes to give thanks for the things that ARE going right, or the people that are part of my world, the day usually goes from bad to worse.

A priest told me recently that going to church and worshipping communally is not always going to be fun or interesting or awe-inspiring.   He said sometimes it takes work, or at least cognizance, to find the peace.  He suggested noting one thing, anything, each week at church, and to appreciate it.  It could be the way a certain hymn sounds when sung or the pat on the shoulder from a fellow parishioner, or the cry of a baby a few pews behind you.  The point is to notice it and be thankful of its presence.

Translate this concept into our day-to-day lives, and we’ve got a prescription for healthy living, where we consciously at first, then naturally as it becomes more familiar, take a minute to notice those people, things, and events around us and appreciate them.  Giving thanks for the unfamiliar lends easily to being grateful for what exists in our personal lives.

Noticing the way the man on the train quietly chuckles as he reads a passage in a book may help you remember to take a minute to yourself on your commute without the work emails, weekly scheduling, and phone calls to just BE.  Recognizing the trap of chairs and bars that the elderly woman down the block sets on her front porch every evening to ward off intruders before retiring may allow you to be thankful for your house full of people and pets that helps you feel secure every minute of every day.  Watching your child struggle with learning multiplication tables may allow you to not only value the fact that your own school days are over, but also to appreciate the extra time that you have the ability to spend with your child on homework, as the other stuff can wait.

I challenge you to make a simple pledge of noticing what’s around you today and taking an active moment to appreciate just one thing you encounter today.  Let it be the way the clouds billow or the dog barks or the amazing ability that guy ahead of you has of weaving in and out of traffic without causing an accident.  Notice one thing and be thankful for it.  Keep doing it daily, and the rest will happen naturally. You won’t be able to help but giving gratitude for things in your own life.

Listen Up

Photo courtesy of https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/how-listen-better-improve-your-english-soad-louissi

We hear our children every day.  Their words, stories and thoughts revolve around their toys, their friends, their teachers, their jokes, their fears, etc.  We don’t always listen, though, to what they’re actually saying.  You can miss the story of your child’s life if you don’t actively turn your listening ears on.

I had the luxury of spending a few hours alone with my own parents a few weeks ago in Indianapolis.  No kids, no spouse, no friends or extended family.  We went to lunch at a local eatery of my father’s choice, where he knows the owner and many of the servers, hosts, and patrons.  Normally I dig that type of atmosphere, as I’m a huge supporter of local businesses and I too enjoy a familiarity about my surroundings.

The people were nice, the food was good, and the service was top-notch.  It was the perfect atmosphere for us to have an actual conversation, one that is uninterrupted by little hands trying to grab the phone, children trying to compete for the attention of their grandparents, or siblings engaging in sparring that only takes place in front of relatives.   The dogs’ antics aren’t stealing center stage at the restaurant and here the call waiting is obsolete.  Just as my parents and I start in on our first of many unfinished conversations, the server comes to take our order.  We order and my dad tells a funny story of some sort to the waitress.  By the time he’s finished with his joke, he’s forgotten about our half-mast conversation, and sits at the table waiting fodder.  We engage in a second discussion about (insert topic here) which we don’t get to complete because my mom knows the old codger sitting kitty-cornered from our table and needs to say hello.  He doesn’t recognize her and ends the salutation abruptly.  My mom focuses her attention back to us and is about to join in on our talk, when the old man finally recognizes my mom and intercedes to say hello again, this time really meaning it.  A short, yet strained, conversation ensues between the elder and my mom, as he doesn’t hear so well and many words have to be repeated, LOUDLY across the tables. 

 

With everyone’s attention back at their own table with their own company, I start to share yet another story with my parents, in answer to a question my dad has posed earlier.  Before I finish my thought, the host has passed our table on his way to seat another group of patrons, and my dad is loudly teasing him from across the room, about his supposed singing abilities.  I don’t even know the how or the why of the conversation, but I am cognizant at that point that any external small talk would trump anything I had to say.  I’m also painfully aware that when the intrusive small talk stops, my dad will have no idea of the topic we had been previously discussing.  I start to get annoyed and even begin that nasty cauldron-stirring we all do from time to time, where you overdramatize the obvious, thinking, “He’s not listening.  He never listens.  He always pretends to listen, but in actuality is just waiting for a moment to add something of his own.”  

Then I catch the eye of a toddler sitting in a high-chair at the table behind us.  He’s flirting with me, trying to get my attention.  I engage in a full-on game of peek-a-boo with him, as it’s more interactive than anything I have going on at my own booth.  The little boy is like a sponge, just soaking up any bit of attention he can get from me.  I’m a sucker for kids on a good day, but my current state of frustration with my own parents for not allowing a single moment of uninterrupted conversation, allows me to pour it on thick with this tyke.  The kid eats while he’s eyeballing me, just daring me to look away so he can start his hide and seek routine up again.  From time to time I tune into my own table’s conversation, but realize my attention is not really needed there, so my mind starts to wander.

Here I am, at 40 years old, perturbed because my dad doesn’t really listen to me.  In all fairness, we need to call a spade a spade, as I’m a huge motor mouth that talks too much for any innocent bystander in a five-minute time frame.  So just imagine how my parents must feel having raised me, year in and year out!  They’ve probably always been overwhelmed with my chatter and my opinions on EVERYTHING.  They’re probably glad to now have grandkids as a buffer between us!  

I know my mom listened to me, though, for the majority of my childhood.  She heard the things I said.  She caught on to the meaning of my lack of communication.  She knew what to expect from the undertones of my language.  She questioned me on things she didn’t understand, stamped a seal of approval on those things she agreed with, and debated with me (or sometimes nagged or lectured me) about those things she disagreed with.  She’d head off potential disasters, based on what she’d hear me say, and she’d sometimes punish me for those things I didn’t know she overheard!  I knew she was paying attention, even if sometimes she was in auto-pilot as she had so much of her own stuff going on.   

I think about my own kids now.  My girls talk a lot.  Sometimes they talk incessantly.  Sometimes it drives me absolutely batty.  Sometimes I tune them out.  Sometimes I half-listen.  Sometimes the meaning of their expressions registers days after their words have been spoken, often times when it is too late to discuss.  Other times, I turn my mind off of the 75-item-deep chore list constantly looping in my subconscious, and actively engage in listening to my kids.  This is when the magic takes place.  This is when I learn who my kids are becoming, what they are affected by, and why they feel the way they do.  This is when I find out who they admire, what makes them happy, where they want to visit, and when they are most receptive to change.  This is also when I hear what they are struggling with.  I don’t have to ask them the questions to get the answers.  They tell me everything I need to know if I just pay attention.  Sometimes I probe further into their stories for more clarification, other times I just listen and observe.  Many times my first reaction is to correct their grammar or remind them not to talk with their mouths full of food, but always my goal is to pay attention, as I am forever fearful of missing a cue one of them puts out about a situation that’s in the brewing stage or a potential fear that can be squashed.  I don’t want to neglect a cry for help or bypass a latent learning experience.

The engaging part is hard.  Whether you’re out working in Corporate America for ten hours a day, leaving just a few hours a day with your kids, or if you’re home with them all day, the concept is the same:  you need to take advantage of a listening moment when it presents itself.  It’s the quality of the moment, not the quantity of the moments themselves.  Don’t let the beat-down of the work day or the monotony of the household chores be the excuse that robs you from precious quality time with your children.  Draw them in.  Share your day.  Ask about theirs.  Hear them out.  Allow them to open up to you.  Listen attentively.  Show them you care.  Show them you notice.  Show them you’re listening.  Lead by example so they can learn to be good listeners themselves.  Time flies.  Before you know it, your kids will be packed up and heading out the door for preschool, college or their honeymoon.  Don’t let them cross that threshold thinking you don’t care what they say just because you didn’t listen.