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. 

Give It To Me

I did not want to get up.  I woke up before the alarm went off at 5:30am and couldn’t get back to sleep.  Instead of fighting the telltale sign that it was time to get up by justifying to myself that I could use another 30 minutes of sleep and then spending the time stressing out about the number of tasks I had to complete in the next few hours or tomorrow or this week, l tiptoed out of bed and grabbed my workout gear.  

With extra time before I had to meet my workout buddy, I did some stretching and core work to loosen up.  With no one else awake, I left most of lights off in our tiny little apartment, and I didn’t make a peep, so as not to disturb anyone.  With only the quiet to keep me company, I let my mind drift away from responsibilities and deadlines and have-to’s, until it settled on vast nothingness.  For ten minutes, I lost track of time and don’t remember anything, even the exercises I was completing.  Then slowly I became cognizant of my breathing, my muscles, and eventually my strength.  I took a few minutes to just be, then jumped up and popped out the door, weights and boombox in hand, ready to face up to some serious kickboxing.

My friend arrived at our scheduled pre-dawn workout time, but before I could even hit the play button, she let loose on my simple ‘how are you’ question with a real answer, “I’m not very good.”

We took a minute and talked through the personal issues that were stressing her out this morning.  She said it felt better just to acknowledge it in front of someone else.  Agreed.

Once the club music was pumping through our veins, and the ears of the neighbors, as we work out open-air on the school lawn before the day begins, we continued talking about life’s and ups and downs, all while sweating our tails off.  Squat.  Elderly parents.  Lunge.  Moving and packing.  Punch.  Middle school nightmares.  Kick.  Flu-bugs and fevers.  Crunch.  Job searches and losses.  Lift.  Exes and partners.  We carried on in that fashion until the sun rose high into the morning sky, quenching us with much-needed brightness.

One hour was all it took.  1/24 of the day devoted to my body and soul.  The difference that hour makes in my day is colossal.  I came home in a good mood.  Instead of the normal stress spilling out between each word I spoke to my family, today’s conversation at breakfast was easy and genuine.  Instead of rushing around the house and warning the girls to hurry up, I actually took a few minute to help them get ready, even though they’re old enough to do it on their own.  The few extra minutes spent with them was a welcome treat.  By making time for the needed physical workout this morning, I inadvertently made time for the rest of my life.

I felt genuine gratitude and appreciation toward my partner for pitching in to help with lunches and meal-planning, as opposed to criticism for not doing things the way I do.  I walked out the door with my youngest over an hour early for preschool.  We did a drive-by of the park, but with no kids there yet, we hit the local coffee house for a “special coffee” for her of steamed milk.  You would have thought I had asked Santa to come a second time this year for how happy my little one was for a treat outside of the daily routine.

“Thank you so much, Mama,” she beamed at my from the back seat from behind her whipped cream mustache.  “I can’t wait to go to school early to play at the park with you!”

With an extra 40 minutes on hand and not a child in site, my daughter and I ran and played and hid and chased until we were exhausted.  She loves babies and a young dad showed up with his barely-walking baby, who became a fast playmate of my sweet pea.  I had a 15-minute conversation with the baby’s father, who now is no longer a complete stranger from the park.  OF COURSE he works at Trader Joe’s….he was so nice!

I headed to work and took time to call my mom, which never seems to make it into the schedule, as there’s never time to just open up and talk.  Again, by taking the time to take care of myself this morning, I opened myself up to taking care, or at least notice, of other people.  Work blew by without issue or stress, but instead with a compliment out of the blue from my co-worker about how easy-breezy and productive I was today.  I instantly got a glimpse of my youngest daughter’s joyful ear-to-ear smile at the park this morning.  Today is the gift that keeps on giving!

Before I left work, I got an email from my girlfriend telling me what a pleasure my mood was this morning and how it helped change the outlook on her whole day from ‘have to go to work even though I’m sick and can’t talk’ to ‘I can do it today.  I’m going to be fine.’

I could go on and on with examples from the rest of my day, or from other days where I’ve set aside time to attend to my body and spirit.  The list goes on and on.  When I foster my personal betterment, I am better prepared to both receive and nurture the essence of those around me.  It’s a win-win for everyone.  Conversely, when I erroneously decide I don’t have enough time to take care of myself, it all goes down the shitter.

I challenge you to give yourself whatever it is that you need tonight or tomorrow morning:  a moment of meditation, fifteen minutes of quiet time, a half-hour of running, an hour of prayer, a morning of reading the cherished tabloids, or ___________.  Stay up late or get up early, but exercise your ability to make your own day, week, or life.  Feed your own soul and in return, you will feel good about contributing to the potency of others.

Changing Gears

The best laid plans sometimes need to be amended.  You plan on taking the bus, but you’re running behind, so you have to grab a cab.  You plan on paying cash for a large purchase, but you don’t have enough “change” to cover the sales tax, so you put it on your card.  You order the sushi special, but it’s sold out, so you settle for a California Roll.  No brainers, right?

Even though I pride myself on my ability to roll with the punches of most situations, the reality is that it’s really hard to change courses on the fly sometimes.  I do well through the decision-making part, as I’m a doer….when things need to get done, I do them.  But then I inevitability immediately mourn the change of plans afterwards.  It’s a vicious cycle that needs to stop.

The entire cab ride is spent silently lamenting the fact that I’m wasting money on a nausea-inducing cab ride all because I decided to flat-iron my hair at the last minute.  The second the debit card is swiped at Target, I kick myself for not grabbing the two extra $20’s that were sitting on the table, as now I’m going to have to make two more stops at home and the bank to even up the accounts.  I have buyer’s remorse the second the waiter leaves the table, as I ALWAYS order the California roll.  Can’t I possibly come up with something I’ve never tried before?

Over the years I’ve gotten better at hiding my agitation at last-minute changes.  I still complain in my head, but I try not to talk about it out loud.  I think if I don’t talk about my compulsive thoughts, they don’t really exist.  They do exist, though, and my face always is a dead giveaway.  The people who know me well can see the wheels turning every time I suddenly alter a plan.  The saving grace is that the pace of our lives is so swift that I don’t have time to linger on the duress because I’m forced to immediately move on to the next topic or decision that’s thrown my way.

Over the weekend, I asked my eldest daughter to take a run with me.  I was desperate for some exercise to clear my head and I knew her mood could use a reboot as well.  She unenthusiastically suited up in her pink running shirt and patterned shorts and moodily met me at the door.  Before we had a chance to lace up our shoes, her friend came to the door to get her bike that was left at our house the day before.  The friend was swimsuit-clad and ready to ride her bike to the neighboring block party we planned on attending later in the day.  Knowing my daughter’s spirit was more likely to be lifted from the waterslide than with our jog and balancing that against my selfish yearning for a few minutes to myself void of conflict with my nine-year-old, I changed gears.  The running clothing was donned for a swimsuit and the bikes were brought out of the garage to the front.  My daughter went on to the party with her friend and I grabbed my music for my solo exercise session.

Not two seconds after the front door shut, I started bullying myself over the change of plans:  my child needed the exercise and it would have set the tone for her day; I gave up the cherished one-on-one time with my child in exchange for some solitude; there’s no need to go to the block party this early in the morning; who’s going to watch her while I’m not there?

I took my grief on the road and headed to the kitchen, where my girlfriend took one look at me and without even asking what I was thinking, said, “Get over it and go on your run!”

I wanted so badly to review the negative implications of the modified schedule with her, but she shooed me out the door, where my anxiety melted away with the first pop lyric that screamed out of my ear buds:  I think I’ve finally had enough, I think I maybe think too much…my head is spinning so blow me one last kiss.  P!nk always says just the right think at the just the right time!

Here’s the gig:  with life coming at us so fast, our maps inevitably change at a moment’s notice.  We can plan and prepare and primp for what we think will happen in the days, weeks, and months ahead, but ultimately we never know exactly how things will pan out.  The only thing we can be certain of is that things will change.  If you can roll with change, you’re as prepared for life as you can be.

They Listen All Right!

My eternal complaint with my kids is that they don’t listen to me.  At school, at other’s homes and in the presence of my family, my daughters mostly pay attention, follow instruction, and respond appropriately to requests.  It’s in my presence where they seem to turn their listening ears off.  I am forever badgering my girls to listen to me.

“Please listen to me and do as I ask,” I warn them on a regular basis, in response to an initial request of shutting the door, turning off the light, or bringing the noise level down a notch, being blown off.  While the even yet stern tone of my voice usually grabs their attention, it doesn’t always yield an immediate action.  Sometimes they’re having so much fun doing whatever they’re doing, that they feel it’s just not possible for them to pull away at that moment.

Today’s laundomat excursion followed that line of thinking.  The girls helped separate the clothes, pre-treat the stains, and load the washers.  They sat on a high folding table together, reading Highlights and playing Go Fish.  After spending their quarter rewards on bouncing balls from the toy dispenser, they got a little rambunctious playing hide and seek in the empty Laundromat.

To keep them from getting so wound up that someone gets injured, I asked them to help me with gathering up the clean clothes and getting them to the car.  They took turns filling the big portable carts with baskets of clothes and supplies and wheeling them to the car.  When my eldest came in to snatch the last basket of clothes to put in the cart, so she could do the final trip to the car, I asked her to instead collect the wet clothes that were hanging on the various carts to dry, and take them out to the car.  As I was folding the last of the clean dry clothes, she ran back in to ask me what to do again with the clothes. 

Sometimes I think she hears what I say, but doesn’t always process the words in her head, so I frequently ask her, like I did today, to think back to what I had asked, and then do what I asked, instead of me repeating the request.  She seemed to remember the task about the wet clothes, but still didn’t remember where to put them.

“Just anywhere is fine, honey,” I responded.  “It doesn’t matter.”

When I came out to meet the girls in the parking lot, 5 items of hang-dry-only clothing were draping the outside of the car, drying casually in the sun.  I started to ask what in the Sam Hill is going on but then caught myself as I remembered my own words. 

My daughter was so proud of herself for coming up with the idea of finding a place for the wet clothes where they would also get dry, that I swallowed my laughter, and praised her for the creativity in her solution. 

Never mind that the clean wet clothes were draped over the filthy, dirty car that had just transported us over 2000 miles in the past ten days.  Forget the idea that as recently as last night, the girls were squealing with fear over the hundreds of bugs that were covering the roof and hood of the car after parking in a knat-infested lakefront motel parking lot.  The point is that my girls DO in fact listen to me.  They also do what I freakin’ ask!

Life is a Highway

For the past six weeks, I’ve been absent from my life.  I’ve let the laundry go without washing, allowed the dust to accumulate, and let the dishes stack up.  I haven’t had time to wash the sand out of the kids’ swimsuits or mend the hole in my bra that gives the underwire permission to poke me each day.  I haven’t paid the bills, balanced the checkbook, or planned our road-trip vacation that starts tomorrow.  But worst of all, I’ve plain out ignored my children.  I’ve been here with them, but not so much in a parental role, but in more of a peaceful co-existence.  

My attentive parent hat was replaced with the all-consumed home buyer dunce cap.  Somebody had to take the job, as we need a place to live.  Half of my carefree summer has been eaten up by my full-time house-hunting gig.  Our building owner decided out of the blue to sell the two-flat we live in, and while the sale itself wasn’t a big surprise, the timing of having to move within 60 is stressful, to say the least.

Leisurely walks around the neighborhood pointing out different types of birds and flowers have been substituted with brisk speedwalking down each and every street in the neighborhood, hunting FOR RENT and FOR SALE signs.  Relaxing trips to the beach have been interrupted with quick exits to get to a showing with the real estate agent.  Movie nights with popcorn and M&M’s still happen, but without my presence, as I’m busy negotiating out the terms of the proposed sales contract for our new home.  And finally, early evening bike rides to the DQ have been usurped with harried phone calls to building owners regarding their potential interest to sell their building, when the house deal finally fell through. 

It’s been a necessary step in our journey this summer and I’m guessing I could feel discouraged that we’re back to square one with no apartment to rent and no home to buy.  Ironically, I feel relieved, though.

 I looked at my kids today and listened, for the first time in weeks, to what they were saying.  I hugged them and kissed them, and let them linger in my lap without pushing them away so that I could address a parapet wall repair estimate.  I ate breakfast alongside them without excusing myself before my last bite.  I ran behind them as they rode their bikes as fast as they could, and didn’t even stop to talk to the seller of the building we had been trying to buy, as we ran past her down the block.  I wasn’t even mad at the woman for reneging on the deal that would now take us back to the drawing board in regards to finding a place to live.  She gave me my life back.  

I say to my kids often that it doesn’t matter if we live in a straw hut, so long as we’re all together.  I should amend that last phrase to be ‘so long as we’re all together and present.’  I can’t even begin to justify letting six weeks float by without really having any idea what’s been going on in my kids’ heads.   Throwing caution to the wind by leaving our housing situation up in the air to deal with when we get back, I'm going to follow the "Life is Highway, I'm gonna ride it all night long" chorus and just focus on my family and our fun for the next ten days.  The daily stresses of life will still be there when we get home, but my kids' being receptive to my attention will be gone before I know it.