April 20, 2024 · 11:16 PM

The Hardest Part of Being a Parent

I have been a parent for over 27 years. I could write a thousand blog posts about the wonderful parts of being a parent. A 12 page essay. A screenplay. An entire tome. Being a parent has been, hands down, the most meaningful and rewarding thing I’ve done in my lifetime.

Ah but those hard parts…

There are definitely a few, but the biggest one for me – by a very, very large margin – is when my kids are hurt in some way and I cannot fix it. I honestly can’t think of anything that makes me feel more beaten down, more helpless, or more despondent. I HURT, deep in my bones, when my kids hurt. And I would rather it was me, ten times over, if it meant my child could be spared.

It holds true for both physical pain and emotional pain, but I would personally give preference to physical pain (of course barring things like serious and/or chronic illness/injury) any day. When a child has a broken bone – something I’ve dealt with with 50% of my kids – there’s a fairly predictable path to healing. They gradually recover, and get a little better each day. Tegan recently had her wisdom teeth out. She had a couple of miserable days, but otherwise recovered quickly, with no issues or complications. She went out with her friends just a few days later. I hated that she was in pain, of any kind, but I knew she’d be just fine.

Emotional pain though? It’s not clear-cut. It’s messy. There is no “normal.” It sometimes gets worse before it gets better. In the thick of it it feels like it will never get better. It cuts deep and swift and ruthless, sinking down down down until it sits like an anchor at the bottom of your heart. The old adage (which was said to me a lot when I was younger because I was “too sensitive”) of “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” is one of the stupidest phrases of my generation. Words do hurt. Actions hurt. Human behaviors, rising up out of human flaws, hurt.

One of my kids is going through something incredibly painful right now. It started sometime around the end of January and got progressively worse as the weeks, and eventually the months, wore on. Each and every time we had a glimmer of hope and thought, “okay, NOW it will start to get better”, the universe decided to up the ante and double-down. It’s now exponentially worse than January (March had plot twists that nobody saw coming) and while I know there will eventually be a resolution, it feels desperately, desperately out of reach at the moment.

When I first sat down to write this, I was planning on giving some vague highlights – or lowlights as it were – about what’s going on. But I decided I don’t need to. The details are not all that important in the context of this blog post, and don’t change my point. What I will say though:

People can be so, so hurtful. Even if it’s unintentional. Even if they have no idea that they’re doing it. People don’t realize that others have feelings, and that it hurts when they get trampled on. They don’t realize that their actions and their words affect other people. They’re not careful with each other.

We. We’re not careful with each other.

And I would attribute at least a little bit of it to being young and still figuring out how the world works, but there’s actually an older adult involved as well. So it’s not really a young people thing. It’s a human thing.

It’s messy. And hard. And devastating.

AND THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT.

I can’t control other people. I can’t make it go away. I can’t even really give advice if I’m asked because I’m just as flummoxed about the whole thing as my child.

What I can do – truly the only thing I can do – is be there. To climb in next to them, with the pain and the confusion and the heartache, and sit. I’ve never liked the wording for the practice of “holding space” for someone (I don’t know why) but it’s more than apt in this case. Holding space means being fully and supportively present, sitting with them through their pain. It means listening when they want to talk, being patient through the silence, and meeting their pain without judgment, without trying to fix it, and without trying to affect the outcome. It means literally giving them the safe space to feel their feelings, as long as they need.

(I think I just talked myself into liking the phrase.)

But I can’t do anything else. I so badly wish I could, but I can’t. Just like with Tegan’s wisdom teeth, I can’t take away the pain. She just needed to heal. She just needed time. And just like the wisdom teeth, I can sit beside them, watch over them, offer my presence and my support and my ear (and maybe another jello)…

And then just hope and pray it’s enough.

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Filed under gentle parenting, mindful parenting, parenting, Uncategorized

April 18, 2024 · 9:52 PM

Life Right Now

A note: For a long time, I found selfies of people crying to be weird, and maybe…. performative? But someone I love takes them often, and they’ve made me come to appreciate the beauty in the physical documentation of the ebbs and flows… the joys and sorrows of this thing called life.

I cried a couple of days ago. It wasn’t because of one thing. It wasn’t because of a hundred things. It was because of ALL THE THINGS… and because of nothing at all, all at the same time. I don’t cry often (although I’m not sure how much of that is me, and how much of that is repression from my mood stabilizers).

The last time I cried was Septermber 27th, 2023. The only reason I remember the exact date is that it was the day we had to have my Shepherd – and emotional support animal, and best friend of nine years – put down. That day I was prepared. We had tissues in hand as we sat on the living room floor, loving on him, petting him, and letting him know we were there, as the incredibly kind and gentle vet helped him transition.

This time I was caught completely off guard. I’d just gotten through the first half of my morning routine – feeding the dog, emptying the dishwasher, making coffee, taking my morning supplements, and giving the dog her meds (always in that exact order). I sat down to do my meditation and journal, and… sudden tears. A lot of them. I actually tried to ignore it at first, but the more I tried to resist it, the more the tears flowed. I was irrationally upset that I was crying, which made me cry harder.

All told, I cried for the whole first half of the day.

One of the interesting things about having a mental illness is the mental gymnastics I go through trying to determine if my big feelings (or lack of feelings) are due to bipolar, or simply due to life being hard sometimes. Is this the start of a depressive episode, or is plain-old transient sadness? Will it pass? Am I sad like a depressed person? Or sad like a “normal” person? Normal people cry for no reason, right? It’s normal to be down for a few days, right? How about a week? Two weeks? What about when it’s dragged on for a month or two or five?

What I decided that morning was that yes it’s normal to cry sometimes. Yes, it’s normal to cry when you’re sad. Or hurt. Or angry. Or happy. Or feeling any kind of emotion at all.

But that’s not why I was crying.

A lot of people, when they think of someone who is clinically depressed, picture someone crying and lying in bed all day with the shades drawn (and that is certainly the experience for some people.) But I’ve mostly exclusively experienced smiling depression. I’ll know I’m depressed, because I eventually see it, like I’m on the outside looking in. But I keep doing all the things. I keep cleaning the house. I keep taking the kids to where they need to go. I keep up with school. I keep busy and keep smiling and keep up a friendly face. The worst I ever, ever was – at a depth so low it still scares me to think about – Tegan was in her first play, The Wizard of Oz. I was driving her back and forth every day, socializing with all the other moms, volunteering to hand out programs in the lobby. No one knew. It was business as usual. And that’s my typical pattern. I mask and pretend and deny and push through…

Until I can’t. Until I end up sobbing on a tear-stained couch at 9:00 in the morning on a random Tuesday.

I’ve been depressed for a long time. I can never remember when it starts because 1) it starts so gradually that I often can’t see it until the water’s over my head 2) Faking it fools even me in the beginning and 3) I distract myself with the aforementioned game of “depression or run-of-the-mill sadness?”

It could have started when Django died. It could have been January. It could have been shortly after January, when one of my kids started going through something very difficult. It could have been February 8th (I’m making that date up) or February 29th or March 4th because who the hell knows.

Regardless of when it started… this is where I am.

I’m on the outside looking in again, and I can see it. I always recognize when the scale has tipped when I realize I’ve completely withdrawn into myself, ensconced in the suck. When I’ve stopped sleeping. When I eat too much, or I don’t eat at all. When I lack the energy for… anything. When the simplest of tasks seem very, very hard. When I completely stop replying to texts (if that includes you, I love you. And I’m sorry.) When my whole life’s purpose is to stay upright from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. I’ve reached the portion of the program where I can’t fake it anymore. I’ve reached the portion of the program where I have nothing left. And I’m saying it out loud both because it helps with accountability as I try to claw my way out, and because it is comforting, even if the tiniest bit, to know that someone cares. Depression is lonely – which makes the fact that I push everyone away that much more confounding – and the idea that there is someone out there who cares and who wishes well for me is… reassuring.

I’ll be okay. I always am. But right now, my job is to hold on. I’m screaming out into the void and concentrating on breathing in and out. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. Until the scale once again tips in the other direction.

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Filed under bipolar, depression, mental health

March 28, 2024 · 6:50 PM

When Your Kids Mess Up, Where Do They Run?

The other day, Everett’s (19 at the time of this writing) car broke on his way to work, and Mike had to go rescue him. Things like that are frustrating, to be sure, but they’re just a part of life. I don’t get terribly stressed about them, mainly because being stressed won’t help. Things like broken down cars are a hassle, but in a certain way they are easy to deal with. If everyone’s safe, there’s no real thought involved. You drop what you’re doing and you go solve the problem. It certainly wasn’t his fault that his car broke, and beyond commisserating that the inconvenience (and the cost!) sucks, there’s nothing to do but fix the problem – if possible – and move on. I would never shame, complain, berate, etc for something that is out of my kids’ control.

Related: Once, when Mike and I were young and very newly married, a car came tearing out of a sports pub parking lot, and smashed into the front of our car when they tried to turn in front us. They didn’t stop. When I called my parents to tell them (the car was still under their names), I got yelled at because they didn’t have collision insurance. I’m not sure what I could have done differently, except not be on that particularly road, at that particular moment in time. And as a now-adult, and parent, I try to give grace. Who knows why she responded the way she did. Still, it’s something that made a lasting impression, and something I never want to do to my own kids.

I digress.

So what if it’s something that IS within their control? What if they make a mistake, or a bad decision, or put themselves in an scary/unsafe/confusing situation? I would never shame, complain, or berate them for that either. We all make mistakes, and we all find ourselves in need of help sometimes. I want my kids to know that they can call me no matter what has happened … that I am their safe person … that I won’t judge them, or yell at them, or punish them in any way … that they never have to be in fear of my reaction … that we will deal with whatever the issue is together. I know how incredibly scary and isolating it is to keep things from your parents, and I never want my own kids to put themselves in that position. I want them to trust me, implicitly, and I want them to know that I trust them. Trust them to be their own unique humans, trust them to spread their wings, trust them to work out their own boundaries, trust them to come to me if they need help.

A year or so ago, one of our kids made a decision that caused … a problem. They were scared, and needed our help. I was sitting and watching TV when I got the text, and immediately went into protector mode. We hadn’t dealt with this particular issue before, but the specifics of the issue didn’t really matter. What mattered was that they had a predicament, that they trusted enough to know that they could come to us, and that they knew we would help without judgement. Like with the broken down car, Mike was the one who hopped into his car to go pick them up. On his way out the door, I told him, “DON’T YELL.” It wasn’t even that I particularly thought he would yell, but more that I knew this was a sensitive, pivotal moment, and I so badly didn’t want to screw it up. There had been questionable choices made, but how would it help the situation if we expressed anger? What would it have done to our relationship if they felt they had made a mistake in confiding in us? Who would they turn to in the future?

He didn’t yell.

We did talk about what happened a little bit – it would have been completely irresponsible parenting if we hadn’t – but in the end, at least this time, a long discussion wasn’t needed. They were embarrassed, and had clearly learned an uncomfortable lesson. No further action required, other than to be thankful that they were safe, chalk it up to experience, and move forward. It wasn’t something that’s been repeated since then, but even if it had? We would still drive out to wherever they needed us. We would still help. We would still offer non-judgemental support, and we would still remember that just like us our kids are human, make human mistakes, and are still growing and learning about themselves and the world around them.

We will always be their soft place to fall … without conditions, exceptions or disclaimers.

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Filed under gentle parenting, teens

February 28, 2024 · 7:01 PM

What We Can Learn From Nex Benedict

I was bullied a lot as a kid. Not so much by the time I got to high school, but junior high was brutal. It wasn’t one specific reason; I just wasn’t one of the cool kids. I had frizzy hair and bad skin, was painfully shy, and didn’t really fit in anywhere. I hated going to school. Hated it. I remember the sick, sinking feeling in my stomach every morning before school, I remember the anxiety – the dread, really – of wondering not whether or not I would get bullied, but how bad it would be. I did have a little group of friends (ever seen Mean Girls?) and I was the punching bag. I remember when my “friends” went through a spitting phase, and would corner me in a bathroom stall, stand on the adjacent toilets, and spit on me over the wall. I remember how they made a game to see what it would take to make me cry, and when I did inevitably cry, they would laugh and double-down on their efforts. They were cruel, and they were relentless. Looking back, even 35+ years later, it still stands as one of the hardest times in my life. Getting bullied is no joke.

I’ve been thinking about my junior high experience a lot lately, ever since the tragic death of Nex Benedict. Nex was a non-binary 16-year-old from Oklahoma. They were assaulted by three girls in the bathroom at school (in Oklahoma, students must use the bathrooms that correspond to the sex listed on their birth certificates), had their head smashed repeatedly against the floor, and collapsed at home the following morning. They died less than 24 hours after the attack. According to Nex’s friends and grandmother, who raised them from infancy, Nex had been bullied for their gender identity for over a year.

And while I can certainly understand the pain of being bullied, I don’t know at all what it feels like to be bullied because of your gender identity, something that is such as intrinsic part of who you are. So I can’t speak to that, but I can speak to the disturbing and disheartening trends I’ve seen both leading up to Nex’s death and in the immediate aftermath.

Part of me wants to think the societal environment for LGBTQIA individuals is getting better. My Gen Z kids, as well as their friends, are far more accepting and inclusive than anyone I ever saw growing up. They are gentle and respectful, never batting an eyelash over pronouns, new names, or sexuality. It is effortless for them, taking no more brain power or mental gymnastics than the way they treat any other human: with dignity, kindness, and respect.

But then I get on social media.

I’m seeing a community of people getting pressed not over the fact that an innocent child was killed, but why they believe that being non-binary is wrong, why they are not going to be using Nex’s correct pronouns, why Nex was to blame for the attack, and why we can’t speculate about the cause of Nex’s death (ie: the girls could have had nothing to do with it).

As for the first one – believing that being non-binary is wrong – your discomfort with people who are different than yourself doesn’t make them stop existing. Non-binary people exist, and have existed since the beginning of time. It bothers me deeply that it needs to be said, but non-binary folks and other LGBTQIA individuals are as human as anyone else, are deserving of love and respect, and possess the same amount of value and worth as their cisgender counterparts. A death of any innocent child is a tragedy, a tragedy made infinitely worse with the knowledge that it was at the hands of someone else, and never had to happen. Nex should still be alive, and your opinion about their gender identity is irrelevant. Full stop.

As for pronouns? People get really really bent out of shape about pronouns, and I don’t understand why. Honoring someone’s pronouns is literally one of the easiest things we can do to show our respect for the person in front of us. It costs us nothing and causes us zero harm. It is the absolute bare minimum when it comes to honoring someone’s life and autonomy, at any time, but especially when the person in question has died. Such a simple, simple thing to offer a modicum of respect after such a heartbreaking event, and people refuse to do it because of…. what? A stubborn and self-aggrandizing need to be “right”? When a child has died? What are we doing?

The agreed upon series of events (including straight from Nex themself, at the hospital talking to the police), are this: Nex entered the bathroom with a friend, where the three girls who’d been bullying them laughed and began harrassing Nex. Nex, fed up with the abuse – remember this harrassment had been going on for over a year – splashed some water from their water bottle on the girls. They retaliated by beating on Nex, eventually getting them to the ground and smashing their head into the floor. Nex didn’t deserve to die over some drops of water. I see people saying, “But Nex assaulted them first!” Okay? Are we going to compare some water to beating someone’s head into the ground? Also, the punishment for harrassment is not supposed to be death. This was a child who was pushed to their breaking point. It is agonizing, demoralizing, and humiliating to be at the receiving end of bullies. The fact that Nex chose to respond by splashing water on them (which is harmless) can be understood if we put ourselves in Nex’s shoes, and is in no way comparable to what those girls did to them.

Finally, there hasn’t been an announced determination of the cause of death yet. This is true. Nex did not die on the spot; they died the next day at home. It’s important to note that the fight has not been ruled out as a contributing factor in their death, and that head injuries such as brain bleeds can absolutely cause death hours or even days after the injury. Remember Natasha Richardson? The thing is, even if the beating did not directly cause Nex’s death, even if Nex was so distraught that they did something like overdose (a theory I’m seeing a lot of), it does not make the girls any less culpable. They tormented someone for a year. They beat them so hard they blacked out in the bathroom. Those girls are not innocent, regardless what an autopsy shows.

If we hear about something like Nex’s death, and our first instinct is to squabble over pronouns or gender identity, or blame the victim because of a little bit of water, we are part of the problem. We are perpetuating the cycle of hatred and discrimination. We are literally paving the way for future acts of violence. We are making it okay.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Matthew Shephard lately. If you don’t remember the name, Matthew was a 21 year old gay college student in Wyoming who was beaten, tortured, and left to die tied to a fence in 1998. It was one of the most publicized fatal hate crimes of my lifetime. I feel like we have learned nothing since then. I’d like to think that the landscape is changing, that this hatred has lessened, that more acceptance is on the horizon.

Yet here we are.

And the truths I think we can take from this tragedy are this:

Hatred, discrimination, and bigotry are still alive and well. Lest I forget, I am reminded of this every time I write about it. (Every. Time.) Usually by other Christians angrily banging on their keyboards about sin, instead of having compassion for the fact that children are literally dying. The LGBTQIA community is one of the most marginalized and vulnerable groups in our society, and this hasn’t changed in the last 26 years since Matthew Shephard died.

We NEED to continue to speak out against injustice (and teach our kids to speak out against injustice) and we also need to listen. Listen to the people who are centered in this issue, listen to what we can do, listen to what is and is not helpful. Listening should always come first.

We need to continue to show kindness…. kindness to all people, but especially to those marginalized by the rest of society.

We need to continue to celebrate differences, not denigrate them.

We need to continue to teach our kids about acceptance and respect. Those girls who attacked Nex? They weren’t born hateful; they learned that somewhere.

We need to continue to show our kids through our actions how we love people, how we care for them, how we talk about them when they’re not around.

We need to do better.

Nex Benedict should not have died.

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Filed under hot topics

February 16, 2024 · 2:55 PM

The Kids Are Turning Out Alright

I started this blog in December of 2004 (19 years ago!) It was mostly a day-in-the-life journal style blog back then, and has since morphed into… whatever it is now.

I’ve been thinking about those early days a lot lately, as we confidently step into a new season. All those babies I wrote about 20 years ago are now teenagers and young adults (at the time of this writing: 27, 23, 19, and 16) and life looks very different than it did back then. These days life revolves around driving my youngest to wherever she needs to go, and supporting them all through college, jobs, hobbies, moving, life, and relationships.

It occurred to me recently that to an outsider my job as a homeschooling parent is almost done. Which is weird, but not as weird as the fact that naysayers will now look to my children to see how they “turned out”… because of (or I guess, in spite of) their unconventional upbringing. It’s something I’ve heard a lot over the years: People seem to wonder or worry how homeschooled kids are going to turn out when they’re grown.

I have questions.

First, what does that even mean? Kids are human beings. They’re human beings RIGHT NOW, not at some arbitrary point in the future. They’re not a pot roast that you put in the crock pot, waiting for it to be done to see if it’s cooked properly. They’re people. Like the rest of us, they are forever growing and learning and experiencing life. They’re never “done” until they have no breath left.

Second, at what age do you determine that they have or have not turned out well? 18? 21? When they are grown and have children of their own? It’s arbitrary and silly. There is no magical age at which you can declare your job over. Parenting is for life.

But for the sake of this post – and for anyone with littles who might need the encouragement – here is how my children are turning out:

They are happy. They are living life out loud, pursuing their own individual goals, and have retained that sense of wonder and curiousity that served them so well when they were little. They also still know how to play, which is so so important for a balanced and joyful life.

They are kind. Seriously, these kids forever teach me (a lifelong major introvert who doesn’t always know what to do with the people around me) how to be kind, loving, and show grace to all.

They are smart. One of the coolest things about having four kids is getting to witness, and nurture, four completely different styles of learning, life interests, and skills. I get a front-row seat to watching them do the damn thing in their own ways, and I am so thankful for it.

They know who they are. I had no earthly clue who I was until I was in my 30’s. I did what I was told, tried to please everyone around me, and didn’t have a single unique opinion in my head. Didn’t know who I was, what was important to me, or what I wanted out of life. But my kids know, they stand strong in their beliefs, they work for what they want, and I so admire them for that. I will say for the sake of full disclosure that the one caveat to that is that it is somewhat tempered by the confusion that comes with being a teenager. Woosh. Being a young person (especially a 14, 15, 16 year old) can be HARD. They have something that I didn’t have at that age though: a certain je ne sais quoi that keeps them grounded, confident, and relatively unshakable. And when they do get shaken? They recover with grace. Every time.

They are good friends. To me, to their dad, to each other, to their peers. They love hard. They are generous with their care, their words, and their actions.

________________________________________

When I originally started thinking about this post, I thought that I’d be listing outward accomplishments. They are doing a lot of cool things! But I realized all of those things? The 4.0? The promotion to manager? The singing competitions? The ability to fix anything that’s broken? None of that matters as much as what’s above. (I’d actually argue that in the grand scheme, they don’t really matter much at all.)

I don’t know what my kids are going to do in the future, and I honestly couldn’t really hazard a guess. Life takes some weird and unexpected turns. Having decided that college wasn’t the right path for me when I was young, I then spent the majority of my 40s earning two degrees. Things happen. Plans change. We learn. We grow. I don’t know where their individual journeys will take them, but I am here for it. I’m here for all of it.

And right now? Right at this moment in time?

The kids have turned out alright.

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Filed under gentle parenting, parenting, unschooling

February 2, 2024 · 11:47 AM

The Life-Changing Art of Asking For the Bean Dip

The other day someone came to me for advice. She is a brand new unschooler, and she wanted to know what to do about friends/family members who were giving her negative feedback about her decisions. She was really upset about it, and felt attacked. It also made her feel insecure and unsure about the path she was taking (even though in her heart she knew it was the right choice for her family), and she wondered if they were right. All I can think about when I get that question – and it’s something I get a lot – is:

Pass the bean dip.

It’s something I’m thankful to have heard about very early on in my parenting/unschooling journey, and it quite literally saved my sanity when it felt like everyone wanted to tell me what I was doing “wrong.” I don’t know who coined it (and if it was you, let me know so I can credit you!) but it was something that floated around the unschooling community back in the early 2000’s, in the days of forums and email lists.

Imagine you’re at a dinner when the criticism comes, you answer briefly, and then change the subject. It goes like this:

Don’t you worry about socialization?

No, I don’t. Please pass the bean dip.

They won’t learn to read or write or do math.

They are doing great! Please pass the bean dip.

I worry that they won’t be prepared for the real world.

This works for us. Please pass the bean dip.

Another thing we got a lot of when the kids were little was subtle (or not so subtle) testing and quizzing of the kids, in an attempt to see if they were on par with their peers. It was insulting and irritating, and it got shut down quick.

It takes some practice, to be sure, but after some time it gets easy. If you’re new and it feels overwhelming, it is okay (and good!) to set a boundary: Criticisms about how you live your life will not be welcomed. And I can say with 100% confidence that after 20-some-odd years of practice, that critiques of my parenting or educational choices don’t bother me anymore. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. I literally don’t care. Most of my naysayers are on Facebook these days, which makes it even easier to move on. A snotty comment? Delete. A not-as-snotty but still uncalled for comment? Ignore. A poorly worded question that could actually be sincere? Benefit of the doubt, an answer, and a request for bean dip at the ready. It has taken me a very long time, but I’ve realized that I don’t have to let anyone else’s opinions and criticisms take up any space in my head. They have the autonomy to feel what they feel, and say what they say. I have the autonomy to ignore it. (see my post People Are the Weather for more on that.)

I will say, in the interest of full disclosure, that though it truly doesn’t bother me when it comes to parenting and schooling, it still sometimes gets under my skin when it’s to do with my faith (hello, religious trauma.) And it shouldn’t. It’s not that it makes me question my beliefs (it doesn’t.) It’s not that it makes me feel insecure, or sad, or angry. But it does make me feel some type of way, and I’m still working through that. Earlier this week, I posted something about my beliefs on my personal Facebook page, and right on schedule came That Guy. The one who NEVER comments on my posts, but conveniently shows up when he disagrees, to show me the error of my ways. Am I the only one who has people like that on my friends list? His comment was arrogant and preachy, and clearly appeared to try to “get me.” I ignored it, but it annoyed me. It also annoys me that I’m still thinking of it four days later. It’s a process.

And don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I ignore everything and everyone with a different perspective. I don’t. In fact, sometimes I deliberately read/watch/listen to opinions that are different than my own just to hear the other side. Just to hold them up to the light against my own. Just to see how I really feel. It doesn’t often change my mind, but it keeps my mind open. It keeps me learning. It keeps me practicing grace.

But outright criticism of my choices? Criticism of how I live my life? Criticism of who I am as a person? That’s not welcome. You can say what you want, and I can walk away.

And I’ll be headed straight for the bean dip.

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Filed under Uncategorized

December 21, 2023 · 5:49 PM

Merry Right Now

When the kids were little, we made the weeks leading up to Christmas a very big deal. We had an adorable advent activity calendar (hand-sewn by yours truly), and had a different activity planned for every day of December. We baked and crafted and made ornaments and went to the zoo and to parties and to gift-exchanges. We sent cards, we volunteered, we visited Santa. We were busy , and it was tiring and chaotic and lovely. It’s 2023 now, the baby of the family is 15, and life is … different.

And it’s okay.

It’s four days until Christmas, it’s one in the afternoon, and I’m sitting in my pajamas. The house is a mess and there’s about 6 loads of clean unfolded laundry piled in the laundry room. Shopping is done – mostly – but we haven’t wrapped a single thing. There’s a long list of supplies to buy before I start baking. I stopped sending Christmas cards years ago, and the only real traditions we’ve hung onto don’t take place until Christmas Eve.

And it’s okay.

I am turning 50 (!) in twenty days. It has made what is already an introspective time of year ramp up by a factor of ten. Instead of reviewing the past year (which, if I’m being honest, was not the best year of my life), I am reviewing the past decade. It has also allowed me to take a big step back, put things into perspective, and look at the holidays in a way I haven’t done before. I am calm. And I’m almost never calm, especially four days before Christmas.

All of the extraneous “stuff” – presents and lights and cookies and Christmas carols and holiday parties – is all just noise. Pleasant noise at times, to be sure, but still noise. And don’t get me wrong! I love Christmas. I do. I’ll spend it at home with my extended family, and we’ll eat, and exchange gifts, and drink Jingle Juice, and play games into the evening. There’s a lot of privilege involved in being able to say that, and I’m aware of it. For so many, too many, the holidays are unbearably hard.

No matter where you stand, whether you go all in or you just hold on and try to make it through to New Years, I see you. There is so much pressure around the holidays, and it’s okay to handle it in whatever way is best for you. It’s okay to take the pressure off. It’s okay to breathe. It’s okay to be gentle with yourself, and with the people around you. It’s okay to spend the holidays in unconventional ways. It’s okay to ignore the holidays completely.

And honestly? Holidays and birthdays and special occasions are nice and everything, but all we’re really guaranteed is right now. I know it sounds trite, but it’s true. One of the lessons I have learned over and over and OVER in the past 50 years is that true happiness is felt when you’re in the present moment, not living in the past or looking forward to the future.

So I won’t wish you a Merry Christmas. God willing, Christmas is four whole days away. What I WILL do is wish you a sincere and heartfelt Merry Right Now. No matter who you are, or what your life looks like, or what you do or do not celebrate. I hope today is gentle for you. I hope something made you smile. Mostly I hope that you know that just because you exist: you matter and you’re important. I’m glad you’re here.

Much love,

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Filed under Christmas, life

November 14, 2023 · 5:52 PM

What If They Want To Play In Traffic?

I used to spend a lot of time on Christian unschooling forums. I was an old-timer, so I would answer questions, reassure newcomers, and point people in the direction of resources. I don’t really hang out in those places anymore because 1) I’m just in a different place in my life right now. My youngest is 15 (!), and my boys are all young adults. We’re just busy happily living our lives, and it’s not a priority of mine to spend a lot of my day talking about unschooling anymore. And 2) They all seemed to have a frustrating and reoccurring pattern that was quite honestly exhausting: Someone would create a post, or ask a (valid) question, and instead of sparking a mature conversation with give and take and listening on both sides, it would almost immediately be followed by a flurry of exaggerations, wild leaps of logic, hyperbole, and strawman arguments. To this day, my favorite example comes from a conversation about Dora the Explorer. My daughter was little, and a big fan at the time. Someone took issue with the “witchcraft” portrayed in the show, and before I knew what was happening, the discussion had devolved to the point of her comparing Dora to porn. There was no reasoning with her either. In her mind, and as fast as her flying fingers could type, she wanted us all to know that Dora = witchcraft = bad = porn = TERRIBLE PARENTS!

And to be clear, if you don’t want to watch Dora for whatever reason, that’s cool. What’s not cool is shutting down an entire conversation with what amounts to nothing more than fear mongering. Life is not black and white. It pains me that I have to say it, but there are many many beautiful shades of gray in between children’s television and porn.

I’ve been thinking of those old forums lately because of the reaction I got when I shared the above meme. It reads:

“Question for parents… If a partner or friend treated you like you treat your child, would you continue that relationship? This includes communication, emotional health, and your overall behavior/demeanor.”

Most people who commented saw it for what it was: a reminder to treat your children the same way you’d want to be treated yourself; to give them the same tender respect and care that you’d give to anyone that you loved. A few took issue with it though, arguing that since they were not dating their children it was an unfair analogy. And invariably came the argument that I have come to expect every time gentle parenting is brought up: We have to MAKE kids do certain things (usually with the threat of punishment). How else will they learn to stay out of the street??

It’s honestly a strange leap to make, and a tired retort. Of all the things my kids have learned over the years, learning to stay away from 4,000 pounds of moving metal was one of the easiest… no punishment necessary. We held their hands when they were little, talked about looking both ways, showed them what it looked like to be safe around the street. Etc.

“But what if they just RUN into the street? What then? You wouldn’t treat them the same way you’d treat your spouse.”

Again, the leap is weird, but if it happened (I honestly can’t remember it ever happening), I would treat my kids the exact way I’d treat my husband if he was about to do something dangerous. I would shout their name to get their attention. I would alert them to the danger – using as few words as possible – and, if need be, I would take hold of an arm and/or otherwise try to remove them from the danger.

Kids are human, and just like their adult counterparts, they respond to being treated like humans.

But running into traffic is an extreme example, and not really applicable to day-to-to day situations. There is far too much “either/or” thinking when it comes to parenting. Ie: You have to force/scold/punish, or they will end up playing in traffic. This kind of thinking is unhelpful and disengenuous. The truth is that parenting is a relationship, and like any relationship it requires a dance of communication, listening – lots and lots of listening – and mutual respect. It requires understanding. It requires putting yourself in the other person’s shoes, seeing the situation through their eyes, and coming up with a solution together. Yes, obviously, if they are in mortal danger you would intervene, but wouldn’t that be true of anyone you loved? In most cases, you don’t have to immediately spring into action. You can stop…breathe…assess. You can choose from a myriad of options that are kind to you, AND kind to your child. Parenting is not/either or. It is not black and white. Parenting, much like life, is full of color, shades, and nuance.

The only caveat is that you have to be open enough to see it.

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September 1, 2023 · 5:40 PM

God Is Everywhere

I haven’t purposedly listened to any contemporary Christian music since my 1980’s Michael W Smith era. I don’t have anything against it really; it just isn’t my thing. A few weeks ago though, Tegan was looking for another song for her Commercial Music category for this season’s competitions (she competes in singing competitions starting at the district level in November. Last year, she made it all the way to Nationals!) She came to me with a really pretty song she’d heard on TikTok: Rescue, by Lauren Daigle. Her voice teacher loved the idea. She still needed a ballad, the song is a great match for her voice, and contemporary Christian songs tend to be really competitive. Plus, it’s just a really comforting and lovely song. Listening to it feels like a big hug.

Because I didn’t know a lot about Lauren Daigle (I was aware of her popular song, You Say, but my knowledge ended there), and because I’m, well… me… I obsessively watched, listened, and read everything I could get my hands on for a few days. And it turns out that there’s a lot of controversy around Lauren Daigle.

Apparently, conservative Christians didn’t like that she appeared on Ellen Degeneres, and they didn’t like it when she refused to call homosexuality out as a sin. They were similarly bothered when she was asked if she considered herself a “Christian artist” and she answered that she preferred to just be known as an artist. The most damning though was this spring, when she performed a concert in New Orleans. There was an open bar, so people were drinking while they watched, and among the thousands of fans in attendance were gay people, transgender people, and even (!) people in drag. Christians are really, really mad about the alchohol and the LGBTQ+ folks.

I’ve expressed my frustration about people’s desire to police Christianity before…. the incessant need for judgment on what you consider to be a sin, or who’s doing Christianity “wrong”, or whose life or beliefs or performances make them a “fake” Christian. The overall practice is extremely disheartening, especially when entire populations are getting harmed because of your judgement. (I last wrote about that here.) It’s not my job – or yours – to declare that Lauren Daigle’s fans are somehow less than because they decided to raise a can of beer instead of a Pepsi, or because they are gay, or transgender, or like to dress in drag. It’s not my job – or yours – to unilaterally decide that someone else’s belief, or mode of worship, is any less valid or heartfelt or real than yours. We have no idea where someone else’s heart lies.

What bothers me the most though is a common thread I kept seeing in TikTok after TikTok complaining about the New Orleans concert. Over and over people were saying some version of “God was nowhere near that concert.”

What?

Why on earth would anyone want to worship a God that they genuinely believes only shows up at certain times and certain places? A God that is only present if they are doing everything “right” and checking off all the boxes? A God that they can only call upon when they are good enough, or holy enough, or pious enough?

Everything I’ve been taught and learned and come to believe is very much the opposite. God is everywhere, but He’s especially there when we’re struggling. When it’s dark. When we’re scared. When we’ve screwed up. When we’re broken. When we have nothing left. When we’re trying really really hard but we just can’t quite get it right. God meets us exactly where we’re at, at the exact moment that we’re there. God is not just there for the perfect people (spoiler alert: there are no perfect people). God is there for literally anyone who calls His name.

And God was ABSOLUTELY there for the Lauren Daigle concert. I don’t care what they were drinking, or who was in attendance, or how they were choosing to worship. That concert venue was filled with imperfect people who, like the rest of us imperfect people, just wanted to enjoy a night of fellowship with other believers, listen to some good music, and with any luck be entertained and inspired. God was there, with each and every person who wanted Him there.

Regardless of their beverage of choice.

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August 22, 2023 · 6:39 PM

Why the Egg Cracking Trend is not a Harmless Prank

I love TikTok. I start there, because when naysayers hear of things like what I’m about to write about, they’re quick to say, “See?! This is why I won’t use those apps!” But TikTok is full of lovely creators sharing useful, inspiring, educational, and just plain funny content. I follow a variety of people from those in the mental health field, to gentle parents, to nutrition and wellness creators, to dogs, to people who just make me laugh. It’s a great app.

It is also a weird place, where trends go viral, take hold, and make people lose control of their collective senses. If you haven’t seen it, the latest trend involves inviting your child (usually just a toddler) to “cook” with you, only to surprise them by forcibly cracking an egg on their forehead. This is usually followed by a confused and hurt child, a hysterically laughing parent, and a video that is splashed about as though it were entertainment. Proponents argue that it is a harmless prank, and that those of us who don’t like it need to lighten up. But it is not a harmless prank, and these are just a few of the reasons why.

1.  It hurts.  A few minutes before sitting down to write this, I cracked an egg on my own forehead, with 15 year old on hand as a witness. I figured if I was going to write about it, I should know what I was talking about. And you have to hit it hard! It was unpleasant, at best. There’s a reason why so many of the videos show the child screaming “Ow!”. It hurts. And I’d imagine it hurts that much more when it is unexpected.  Beyond that though, it hurts emotionally. It hurts feelings. I’d like to believe that most parents don’t want to deliberately hurt their kids. Jokes shouldn’t hurt.

2. It’s embarrassing. Nobody likes to be the butt of a joke. No one likes to be laughed at. While I did see a few videos where the child eventually laughed too, in most cases the adult was laughing while the child looked hurt, shocked, and confused. It is humiliating to be put in that kind of position, and I again don’t believe that most parents would want to embarrass their child.

3. It erodes trust. I think the saddest part to me is the fact that the whole premise is built on a lie. These kids are excited, looking forward to connecting with and doing a fun activity with their parent. More than anything, kids want to be involved, and to be invited into their parents’ world. The look on their faces when they realize they’ve been tricked breaks my heart: shock, confusion, and betrayal. The person they look up to more than anyone not only just broke their trust, but shared it online for clicks and views. Disappointment isn’t cute or amusing.

4. It’s bullying. This is literally the definition of bullying. The Anti-Bullying Alliance defines bullying as the repetitive, intentional hurting of one person or group by another person or group, where the relationship involves an imbalance of power. The imbalance of power is key. You are causing intentional harm to someone smaller, weaker, and more vulnerable than yourself without their knowledge or their consent. If you don’t want your child to be a bully, you probably shouldn’t show them how it’s done. It’s not okay to harm or intimidate someone just because (or especially because!) they are your own child. If they were older, or a peer, it might be different – depending on the kind of relationship you have – but by and large, this is something that is being done to young, young kids.

5. It’s only “fun” for one party. I’m not a big prank person in general (I’m not a fan of April Fools), and one of the reasons why is that pranks so often happen at someone else’s expense. The prank-er gets to laugh, and the prank-ee gets to feel embarrassed and humiliated. But it doesn’t have to be that way. A true harmless prank is fun/funny for everyone involved. There’s an old picture of my now 15 year old that she finds really funny. She was probably 5 years old in the photo, and it’s just an extreme close-up of her face, with a big goofy grin. Every April Fools it is printed out and put in various places around the house… under toilet seats, inside cabinets, on computer monitors etc. It makes everyone laugh when they stumble upon it. That is a harmless prank. I’ve seen some kind-hearted mothers perform a twist on the egg trend and let their kids break it on their heads, or ask if they want to see them break it on their own heads. Mom and child both giggle at the absurdity, and no one is made to be the butt of the joke.

6. It encourages hitting. This is perhaps one of the weirdest ones to me. This “prank” is being done to kids who are 3, 4, 5 years old. These are kids who are still learning how the world works, how to get along with others, and how to resolve conflicts. Why would anyone want to show them that it’s okay to smash something on someone’s head, whether it’s in the name of a joke or not? Sure it’s “just” an egg. But what’s to say it will stop there? Maybe a remote control, or a Matchbox car, or a rock would be just as funny.

And please hear me when I say that I don’t think most of the moms doing this mean any harm. They truly do feel it is a silly, lighthearted prank. But any prank, any joke, any kind of mischief is only a win if everyone is laughing. Everything else is just a giant miss.

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