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A Little Background

If you’re reading this blog, it’s likely you know me and you know my family (at least peripherally).  If you’ve come here by chance, I’d like to get you caught up.  I’m a mom and a wife and a middle school special education teacher.  I am married to a (mostly) wonderful man who thinks I am (mostly) wonderful.  I have two stepsons, a foster daughter, and two biological children.  They bring me joy and headaches.  On the best days, at least one of them brings me coffee.  In order to help you understand the family, I’d like to share something I recently posted on Facebook.

“This parenting thing swirls around in my head all the time… and I worry. God, do I worry. But often, I worry about this selfish thing. I worry about how my children reflect on ME. Which is nonsense. It’s not their job to make me look good. It’s their responsibility to learn and be a little bit better everyday. Better versions of THEMSELVES… not who others (myself included) wish they would be.

I worry that Cal is that kid who is so busy jumping out of his skin that he can’t follow the coach’s directions. I must’ve heard his name shouted 30 times during this morning’s game. But when he’s on the football field, he’s the kid who congratulates his teammates after every play. He’s the one to give a high five and say ‘good job’ and encourage everyone. This kid is kind, and friendly, and a good sport. He makes me so proud.

I worry that Lee is the opposite of studious. He rushes through everything and avoids work at all costs. I had to meet with his teachers last week to figure out how to get him to do homework. But this weekend, he’s spent two hours writing and editing a speech about being transgender… which he will deliver to 150 professionals later this week. This kid is brave and intuitive and spunky. I am so proud.

I worry that Bea is such an introvert. She resists joining things and is hesitant to take risks. She has been through so much. But this weekend, she got up in front of the entire church and sang with the band. Her voice was almost as beautiful as her smile. She is full of courage and strength, and she is incredibly talented. I am so proud.

When I try to make them into who the world thinks they should be; obedient, quiet, studious, sunny…. We all wind up feeling frustrated and disappointed. When I can manage to celebrate who they are and guide them to be a little better every day, that’s when I see the beauty of parenting.”

 

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The First Post

 

I am sitting at my kitchen table, next to a large stack of bills and school notices, sipping on cheap chardonnay. As I stress over my first blog post, my kids argue in the living room, and my husband hums a Beatles tune and asks me about my day. I want to be gracious and be present with him, but this whole publishing thing is stressful, and I force a little smile while he tells me how he ate his pudding using the foil lid because I forgot to pack him a spoon in his lunch.

 

There is very little quiet in this life of mine. I’ve been holding out on this whole ‘writing thing’ until I could carve out a little solitude. I draft long Facebook posts and dream about my someday-book while I go about the business of parenting and teaching and loving and building a life.

 

But in a moment of clarity, I realize that the true beauty is being where you are. This is a lesson I’m slowly learning as a novice trying to meditate. If I had to wait for a moment of silence or total solitude, I would never be able to practice meditation. Instead, I’ve learned to take deep breaths amidst the chaos, to be mindful of the kisses and cuddles and homework help that connect me to this beautiful family of mine. I am learning to find the beauty in the mundane, and I wish I could cite the writer of my most recent mantra: “Inhale grace, Exhale your gift.”

 

So often, meditation practices encourage one to inhale beauty and peace, and exhale negativity and fear. This model doesn’t work for me. I need to sit with my fear and negativity. I need to get curious about it and study it and learn from it. I don’t want to send that out into the world. If I’m too quick to dismiss it, it can’t teach me what I need to learn.

 

When I breathe in grace, I accept the gifts that I have been given. I embrace that which makes me entirely unique. Grace is the blessing that allows me to be an advocate, a writer, a teacher, and a parent. Patience, kindness, and thoughtful reflection are all forms of grace that have been gifted to me. When I’m doing my best work, I can share those gifts with others.   And when I can’t? When all I have is frustration and dirty laundry? Well, I can share with you a little honesty and humor. And who says there isn’t a bit of grace in that, too?