In one of my first acting classes the professor assigned this improv exercise.  “You are going on a trip - a week long cruise.  Pantomime packing in a way that represents your personality.”  It seems I was the fifth or sixth student perform but I could have easily gone first.  I knew exactly what I would do for I had (up to that point) always packed for a trip in exactly the same way.  Sitting quietly for several minutes with a notepad close at hand I’d jot down a packing list.  Then, trusting the list as gospel, I’d pull out each outfit and miscellaneous item arranging them on my bed by expected day of use.  Once satisfied with the groupings I’d carefully pack everything into a bag and sit it by the door.  All of this would, of course, be done at least one if not two days ahead of the actual trip.  And I’d never - ever stay up late the night before. 

My, oh my, how things change.  Tomorrow Today we leave for our first real family vacation ever.  (We’re spending 3 days here.)  Of the four people going, I am responsible to pack for three of them yet there is no bag sitting patiently by the front door.  Instead between all the “Honey, can you…?”s and “Mama, I need…”s, I spent the day clearing out my inbox and the evening playing this game and this one too.  It will be just past midnight when I click the publish button but I am not worried.  I know things will turn out well because they always do and that’s the real change.  The young me that packed so systematically did so out of fear and worry and because she felt compelled to control every detail lest life try to move forward without her permission.  The now me accepts that life always moves forward and riding the flow is so much more enjoyable … not to mention more exciting.

Here’s something completely weird about me.  I’m a stay-at-home mom. (That’s not the weird part.) I take care of my kids and my man and my home. (Nope, not that either.)  I have no desire whatsoever to work in corporate America, own my own business or even be a work from home person.  (Wait for it.) I don’t even want to sell the crafty things I make on Etsy.  But (This is it.) I am fascinated by business books and business people.  I’ve devoured resources like The Art of the Start & 4-Hour Work Week and I faithfully read every post Seth Godin writes.  I’m not sure what it was about business writing that drew me in the first time but now I seek it out intentionally because even though the concepts seem far from stay-at-home mommydom I always walk away with something I can use.  Today, I am reminded about the idea of “exit strategy.”

At worst, an exit strategy will save face; at best, an exit strategy will peg a withdrawal to the achievement of an objective worth more than the cost of continued involvement  (Wikipedia)

An exit strategy is beneficial for big things (business deals, buying a house) but what struck me this morning is that it’s good for parenting too.

Take this scenario:  You’re going to a nice restaurant with some single friends.  You know little one is tired because s/he missed a nap.  What are you going to do if the tantrum of the year happens in the middle of dinner?  Or if munchkin simply becomes too squirmy to allow reasonable conversation to continue?  At what point will you say to your friends, “You know, this isn’t working.”?  Or will you?   Often we get caught up in the momentum of the moment.  It seems impossible to escape with any dignity so we just grin and bear it but a clear exit strategy can provide a graceful out of a stressful situation.

Imagine a slightly different scenario:  You’re going to a nice restaurant with friends.  As soon as the greetings are over, you explain that little one missed his/her nap today and you’re not certain whether you’ll get to stay for the whole dinner.  The server arrives.  You place your order and ask for a “to go” box at the same time.  Mid-meal when munchkin is just beginning to get out of hand you scoop what remains of your dish into the box, pull out some cash (which you got ahead of time) from your purse and kindly ask your friend to pay your portion of the check with it.  You and your grumpy baby are out the door within 5 minutes and your friends can continue to have a stress free meal.

So that’s an “out and about” example.  What about at home?  There are several pre-prepared phrases I use to diffuse various situations.  “I don’t know.” and “I was wrong.” top the list.  Fortunately, I discovered the truth of these two powerful statements early on in my parenting adventure.  The Bible says, “the truth will set you free.”  and that’s exactly what these simple words do.  Unfortunately, many parents are afraid to use them.  They are afraid (I guess.) that saying they don’t know or admitting they were wrong will weaken their image as authority figure.  Perhaps, but my experience is that my children respect me all the more for my weaknesses because it makes me seem (as I am) human.  They make me approachable.  They help put my children and I on the same side.

Closely following “I don’t know” and “I was wrong” are “I need to think about it.”, “Please explain what you need/want/meant.  I’m not sure I understand.” and “I’m too angry/upset/distracted to discuss this right now.”  All of these phrases can provide some breathing room in the midst of potentially volatile parental situations and I use them them frequently.  They are words of release.  Allowing my world to move away from gridlock and toward solutions.  They are my exit strategy.

*from The Gambler by Kenny Rogers

“To laugh is to risk appearing the fool. To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To reach for another is to risk involvement. To expose your feelings is to risk exposing your true self. To place your ideas, your dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss. To love is to risk not being loved in return. To live is to risk dying. To believe is to risk despair. To try is to risk failure. But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing, is nothing. They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live. Chained by their servitude they are slaves; they have forfeited their freedom. Only a person who risks is free.”

William Arthur Ward

Here is to living a life free of fear.  To accepting and embracing each moment for what it is and moving on without regret.

*photo courtesy of Snoober

skip on over to Hubby’s blog and read this cute little story.  It’s autobiographical, by the way.  And if you leave a comment, you’ll make his (and therefore my) day.  Help a girl out, will ya?

I saw this at the store the other day.

BRAND NEW!

OUTSTANDING!

ONLY $21.95

CORDLESS SCISSORS!

And I couldn’t help but wonder….

Aren’t these “cordless” scissors?

From the depths of my drafts folder:

See the Consumer

bigger, better, faster, more

Product Prisoner

Before this post will make any sense you’re going to need some backstory… I was born in the small town of, no wait, that’s too far back… Sister was born… yes, that’s about right….

Before Sister was born my main concern about having a new baby was loss of sleep. The holding, the changing, the loving, the nursing, I knew I could handle all of that but sleep was on my top three list of things I loved (right after God and my husband) so I was highly concerned potential at the loss of it. That is why for about six of my nine-ish pregnant months I did research and developed a plan. I came across a very intriguing book that promised a new baby could sleep through the night by six weeks or so if only you would follow the directions to the letter and not grow discouraged when things didn’t seem to be going well (You know like if your child was crying their eyes out begging you to, “Please come pick me up already! I’m a baby and I NEED you.”) The book laid it all out and before Sister was born it seemed like the perfect solution to my fears.

This is why a couple of weeks after we brought Sister home I briefed Will on “The Plan” and we began. Early success encouraged us and so we continued. (We didn’t realize that most newborns sleep all the time with or without a “Plan.”) As time went on successful sleep times grew scarce and crying became the norm. We were baffled. We followed the directions perfectly. Well, almost perfectly… we “gave in” occasionally and held our weeping daughter close until she calmed and then wept ourselves at the “failure.”

It took too many months before we snapped out of that “I just do what I’m told” stupor and started thinking for ourselves as parents. If I remember right it was not long after the night we heard Sister outside our door, whimpering, needing comfort and yet afraid to come in. One of us stumbled out of bed, went and gave her a hug then sent her back to her room, still whimpering. Yes, it was after that we declared, “This is wrong!” We moved Sister’s bed to our room and when she woke 3 and 4 and 5 times each night we reached out a hand to hold hers and we whispered sweet thoughts and slowly … very, very slowly she learned to sleep.

I am not trying to start a debate here on nighttime parenting. If you trust your instincts I’m sure you will find the right solution for your family. But I want to say very clearly is that we did NOT trust our instincts. And because we did not, we taught our child to fear the night and to fear being alone in a way that went far beyond normal childhood fears.

It’s been almost 5 years since our parenting ephipany and in that time Sister (and Brother) have mostly slept with us. In our first home we all shared a room. At Grandma’s we had the mega-bed. At the loft apartment there was no choice but to be together. Then we moved to our current home where the rooms are small and it made sense to divide our beds among them. At first, sleepless nights were chalked up to the change in location but as time passed they grew more frequent and the terror behind them had a central theme. “I don’t feel safe without you.”

We talked about these concerns during the day and we prayed them away each night but fears are not logical. They can’t be explained away. Fears have no faith and without it they can’t be prayed away. Sometimes what fear really needs is a tangible hand to hold and a voice that confidently says, “You are safe.”

So we combined our beds together once again; completely filling the little room they are in. It looks strange to say the least. I wish I could say that the ensueing peaceful nights made up for the strangeness but alas, no. And here is where this post really begins.

Will had surgery about three weeks ago and while he was recuperating he slept on the couch. It was easier to get in and out of (Our bed is on the floor.) and he was already resting there during the day. This created an empty space in the bed beside me. An empty space quickly filled by the enterprising Sister. She moved in her pillow, her blanket, her water, her books and a number of other critical items. Finally settled, she slept. Really slept. For the first time in months. The next night she casually inquired where Daddy would be sleeping. Told he would remain on the sofa, she settled in again and really slept. So it went to the end of the week when Daddy was finally well enough to leave the couch and join us in our “bed” room.

Sister roused us a couple of times the first night, three times the second, four times the third… see a pattern? We switched the room’s configuration twice so she could be closer to our bed hoping that would help. It didn’t. The wakings escalated until more time was spent with eyes open than closed. Will and I sleepily discussed the issue each morning. I googled “six year old insomnia”, among other things, searching for solutions. But Sister could and did counter every suggestion or reason we presented about why she should go to sleep. (I’m thinking someday she could have a very lucrative position in sales.) The morning after bedtime was at 9pm and Sister went to sleep at 3am, we laid down the law. You can stay awake as long as you want but you will not do it in here. We went on to explain that she was welcome to get up quietly to use the restroom or get a drink of water but if she insisted on keeping us awake she would be asked to sleep on the couch for the remainder of the night… alone. We stuck to this plan for two nights. I wish I could say that it worked but if you read through the whole backstory you know it didn’t. It didn’t work because in all that time of discussion and solution searching we never truly considered Sister’s needs. We thought we did. We talked about what we thought she needed. We psychoanalyzed her behavior and reached psychoanalytical conclusions. We thought we considered her but once again what we were really considering was how she could conform to meet our needs. Fortunately, it didn’t take months for this second parental epiphany to occur.

The next day we tried a new approach. We asked her what she thought a good solution might be and we really listened to the answer. Then we talked about what was realistic and what wasn’t. We found compromises and real solutions and that night we all slept more and the next night a little more and last night all the way through to 6am.

The problem with fear is that it keeps you from seeing the other person’s point of view. It keeps you closed, separate, and alone. But trust is the opposite. To trust someone is to say, we can do anything together.

*************************

A cup of water

Blankie, Story, Goodnight Kiss

Please go to sleep now

Don’t forget to submit your haiku to Leslie… one more day!

You’re a mom.  You’ve seen the list.  Wake up, shower & dress, feed the kiddos, dress the kiddos, start the laundry, play with the kiddos, reboot the laundry, have lunch, clean the house, cook dinner, get ready for bed, kiss the kiddos goodnight, deposit the laundry into an unused chair to be folded at a later date, spend a little time with hubby, sleep.  Rinse & repeat.  And repeat.  And repeat.  Just that basic stuff makes for a pretty full day week life Not full as in “filled to satisfaction” or “complete” but full as in “containing as much or as many as is possible”, in other words “stuffed” - as in that would have been a very enjoyable meal if I hadn’t felt compelled to eat every single bite on my plate along with the appetizer and the dessert because now I feel so bloated I can hardly waddle away from the table.  That kind of full.  And the problem with that kind of full is that while you may experience many things you enjoy none of them.  I forget this sometimes.  I spend so much time scurrying around trying to finish “the list” that I am unable to actually enjoy “the list.”  Fortunately, sometimes I remember too and sometimes I get really wild and crazy and throw “the list” out the window.  Those are the days we stay in our pajamas and eat pancakes for supper.  Those are the days we leave the breakfast dishes on the table and go to the park because it’s finally sunny and warm again.  Those are the days we read Seven-Day Magic from cover to cover stopping only long enough to raid the fridge for sustenance.  Those are the best days.

I’m rethinking the importance of “the list”.   I’m going to retitle it “Suggestions for Daily Operations”.  And I’m going to remember to throw it out the window sometimes.

“The List” keeps coming-

neverending pile of chores.

Let’s take the day off.

**Have you written your haiku yet??  One week left!**

Do you remember these?  The playgrounds with the see-saws that would actually come up and hit your partner on the chin or slam them to the ground if you suddenly decided to leave for the monkey bars.  The ones that simply did. not. work. without a friend.  Do you remember the playgrounds with merry-go-rounds that could spin so fast you might fly off but that created the most amazing centrifugal effects on your cheeks.  Do you remember discovering the safety of the middle?  Or finally getting off and walking awry for several moments thereafter?  Perhaps your playground had one of those huge metal slides with steps that went up forever and a mirror like surface that reflected the sun like secret signals from one park to another.  In the summer those slides got so hot you were glad of the speed with which they sent you careening towards the ground.  And swings - what playground would be complete without swings.  The super tall ones with the black plastic seats bowed by gravity and hundreds of children’s bottoms.  The swings hung by thick chains over a dirt cavity so deep it became a small pond when there was rain.  Those long chains and some vigorous pumping would send you so high it seemed you were flying and the brave actually did - leaping from seat mid-air.

My favorite childhood park had a barrel that worked something like a never-ending hamster wheel.  Nine or ten kids would get inside at once all running together to make the monolith move.  Faster and faster until one by one we started falling out unable to keep pace.  As a teen I returned to that park with my now husband, then friend and we sat in the big barrel for hours discussing philosophy and religion and the state of the world and when all of those topics grew too heavy for words, we stood up and started walking, faster and faster until one or both fell out unable to keep pace.  Laughingly, we’d pick ourselves up, children for a little while longer.

The barrel was gone last time I visited, along with the merry-go-round that used to sit beside it.  Labeled too dangerous I suppose.  I have mixed feelings about that label. 

See Brother has been experimenting with a couple of new words this week: “Gautious” (as in look before you leap) and “Cragious” (as in brave).  He can’t quite pronounce them but he knows what they mean and he can use them in context.  They are big words for such a little guy but I know how he learned them.  Around here I am very frugal with the word dangerous and the label “too dangerous” is almost unheard of.  Around here I am more likely to utter, “Be careful.” than “Don’t do that.”  More likely to offer explanation of a possible consequence than “Stop that. You’ll get hurt.”  Why?  Because I want to affirm their explorations.  I want them to reach for things that are just beyond their abilities and in the reaching to stretch and grow those abilities so that in some unexpected moment they grasp the dream they are reaching for.  But I want them to be aware of the risks too.  Not shackled by fear of the danger but rather able to evaluate it in a distant contemplative sort of way.  Because someday they will encounter real danger and if I’ve never allowed them to look it in the face before, if I’ve never provided toys tools that teach them how to weigh risks, how will they recognize it for what it is?  How will they make the right choice: “gaution” or “cragiousness”?

Look!

Christmas is here,

Gifts everywhere, Merry,

merry, merry Christmas - Merry,

merry, merry Christmas - Into the stores,

out of the doors, Funds going down, Ads all around

Merry, merry, merry Christmas - Merry, merry, merry Christmas.

Ching!