Mamadance!

Someday I'm going to do a study to test a theory of mine:  It's impossible to be in a bad mood while you're shaking your butt.  I will examine the precise mechanism of this phenomena of brain, spine, sacrum, and endorphins, and my study will lead millions to toss their Zoloft and pump up the jams instead.


But I don't have time for any of that right now. 


Instead, real quick, I need to tell all the Austin mamas who read my blog about a gathering called Mamadance!  It takes place every other Wednesday evening, from 8-9 pm, at Empower Yoga, 1611 W. 5th St., 78703.  There is a $12 charge.  Leave your kids at home.  Or somewhere.  Don't bring your kids.


You need to come and dance with us.  Why?


1.  Because it's fun.

2.  Because it's just for you.

3.  Because something about moving, and not talking, and not fetching glasses of milk or juice for people, puts you in touch with yourself.  You will find yourself moving through your "stuff" and emerging as a nicer and lighter human being.

4.  Because at Mamadance, no one will tell you what to do.  Do you want to waltz?  Or polka?  Fine.  Want to do Sun Salutations for an hour?  Okeydokey!  Do you want to experiment with mixing Zumba with making rock 'n roll faces like Steve Tyler of Aerosmith?  Great.  Do you want to just lay on the floor without any small people climbing on you, and have the rare experience of finishing a thought?  Good for you!  Are you an arrhythmic, uncoordinated, or "bad" dancer?  Have two (or more) left feet?  Bring it on.  No one will care, judge, or mess with you.

5.  Because you don't get to experience this kind of freedom in your day-to-day life as a mother.  Or even just as a person.  I promise.


6. Once you get hooked, you can take a turn making the play list.  It starts slow and builds.  You might include "Sing! Sing! Sing!," followed by the theme from "Brian's Song."  Or whatever. You never know.

Mamadance happens this Wednesday, 8/24.  In September, it will be on the 7th and the 21st.  Every other Wednesday.  Please come.  Bring a friend.  Shake your thang.  Thank me later.

Humanly Possible

I am pleased to be able to share with you a recent life achievement.  Through great conscious practice, over several years, I have let go of Perfectionism.  Completely tossed her to the curb.  I feel freer and happier than ever before.

OK, not every.single.second.of.every.day.  I still have moments when Perfectionism beckons me, inviting herself back into my life and psyche.  Generally, that happens when I haven't been getting enough rest.  But truly, most of the time, I can report that I no longer give a hoot about Perfection, whoever she is, was, or will be.



When I was a younger mom, in particular, when I had one child, I had somewhat of a handle on things.  I did a decent job, a good amount of the time.  It wasn't until I had two that havoc ensued, when I got to really experience the agony and frustration of not being enough, not being able to do enough, not having enough arms, knowledge, patience, or energy.  That was a tough awakening.  I grieved so many instances of inadequacy, of well-laid plans going down the drain, of bizarre eruptions of chaos, disappointment, meltdowns, messes, sudden competitions over random objects and food products, and freakish, completely unforeseeable accidents (even though I scurried around trying to create safety).  At first it was seriously disconcerting.  After awhile, it became comical.  And awhile after that, I decided to just let go and do the best I could--and really be okay with it.

I used to want to be so perfect for my kids.  But now I see that we give our kids the most amazing gift when we choose to just be human.  To accept our limits.  To mess up.  To say "Not today," or even just "No."  To just make the dinner and let everyone groan and grouse.  To just forge ahead anyway, knowing we'll get to listen to all the reasons why we didn't do it the right way.  To just sigh and get to our destinations a few minutes late.  Where I used to be aghast when things went wrong, now I just say, "Not ideal!" and move on.  Now, I am thrilled and a bit surprised whenever things go smoothly.

Even if you can be perfect--in all the the myriad ways that modern parents and Attachment parents and Helicopter parents attempt to be--you can't be as real and as present.  And you can't really prepare your kids for life.  Everyone's kids are human, and there's a whole body of knowledge we deprive them of if we try to make ourselves and life be something else.  Things like these:

• What do you do when your expectations don't match reality?
• How do you balance the expectations of others with your own experience?
• When do you get to give yourself some slack?
• Whose standards matter?
• How can we periodically check in with ourselves, to ensure that our own values are guiding our standards for performance?

The one thing I do know about myself as a parent is that I don't want my kids to spend/waste time beating up on themselves.  I want them to be resilient, to take a crack at things, to treasure their successes, to not be undone by their failures.  Most of all, I want them to know what's important to them.

The funny thing?  Since Perfection and I got our divorce, I believe I've begun to do my best work ever.  I trust myself to give any given situation my best shot, and most of the time, that's good enough.  I'm definitely enjoying myself more.

Love Austin Music? Support Austin Music People!

Momo's Club proprietor Paul Oveisi is a high quality guy.  Not only has he successfully run a music club on Austin's 6th Steet for 10 years--no small feat-- he also teaches, serves on Austin's Live Music Task Force, and is a guy who cares about and supports music and musicians.

So when I heard that Paul was involved in launching a new non-profit called Austin Music People, I wanted to know more.

The AMP website has a lot of good info about the organization's vision and mission.  Basically, AMP wants to be the organization that represents the interests of the music industry with City leaders.  Even though City officials drafted a 1991 resolution to proclaim Austin the "Live Music Capital of the World," there is neither a business plan nor a central organization to develop this vibrant sector of Austin's economy.

Issues come up all the time--from whether to charge for parking downtown to ordinances governing decibel levels of live shows--where having a central voice for stakeholders would make for better and more efficient decisions.

Paul Oveisi views our live music scene as Austin's professional sports franchise.  The number of dollars and visitors that come to town to experience our music each year--for events such as South by Southwest, the ACL Festival, and many, many more--is mind-boggling.  Austin Music People wants to be the organization that "protects and grows Austin's music culture and our reputation as the Live Music Capital of the World."

If you love music and/or musicians, if you care about music, please support AMP.  They are having their launch party tonight, starting at 6 pm at ACL Live at the Moody Theater, featuring bands like

Ghostland Observatory

Blue October

Court Yard Hounds

Alejandro Escovedo

Brownout

Bavu Blakes

The Coveters

Bright Light Social Hour

Nashville Trip Log # 1: Tom Jackson's Bootcamp

For the last two days of my trip to Nashville,  I attended Tom Jackson's Live Performance Bootcamp for Singers and Bands.  It was a very valuable experience and I highly recommend it for all performing musicians. 

Tom Jackson is a guy who lives for great performance moments, and he wants to help musicians identify and accentuate them in their shows.  He calls himself a Live Music Producer, and he and his crew (including three other Jackson-trained associates) claim to be the only people doing what they do:  working with bands and artists to hone their performance into a truly memorable experience for an audience.

Even if they're not the only ones doing it, it's easy for me to believe that they are the best at it.  Although I had seen many of his DVDs, I had a blast seeing Tom Jackson work in person for two days.  He observes and listens with a keen eye and an open heart, and then leaps into action.  He interrupts, extracts, rearranges.  He suggests and watches.  He brings dynamics into a song, where before there was a wall of sound--"goulash," as Jackson would call it.  The process calls the audience's attention to the performers' personalities.  We hear deliberate sparseness, then fullness.  Suddenly, the hotshot guitar lead guitar player is in the spotlight.  Then we get a glimpse at just how funky that bass player can be.  Finally, the whole band rips it up together. 

A lot of Jackson's feedback is nonverbal, a hilarious and fascinating combination of air guitaring and imitating the sounds of various instruments.  The communication is beyond words--yet musicians get it, because it reminds them about what's exciting about music, about why they play in the first place, about the things that can get lost in the effort to get the notes and pitches right.  After a few repetitions of this process with an artist or band, everyone in the room of about 70 musicians would erupt in applause in response to the exciting effectiveness of his changes.

Tom Jackson's work is ultimately about courtesy for the audience.  It's about stepping back--really stepping back, to the tune of weeks' worth of additional rehearsal--to a) become conscious about what we're trying to say with a song and b) make that absolutely obvious to the person watching and listening.  It's also about writing a giant permission slip and handing it to developing performers--inviting them to take charge, take a chance, cop an attitude, and shine like a star when they step onstage.

If you were in a play or a movie, you'd have a director to help you focus your performance this way.  If you're a writer, an editor could help.  But for musicians, particularly in this Wild West era of Indie and the Internet--where an artist has to cobble together a support and development team on his/her own--artists and audiences alike can benefit from this kind of coaching.

Colin Boyd

I met Dallas singer/songwriter Colin Boyd in 1994 at the Kerrville Folk Festival, and we became fast friends.  In the years since, we have written and performed together a bunch, and he has always been a great supporter of my music and writing.  

Against great odds--at a time when I was living in Houston and getting my MBA at Rice University, a million emotional miles from my musical self--he was able to talk me into beginning the recordings that became my debut CD, Purple Room.  He was an awesome producer, engineer, player, teacher and collaborator throughout the project.  

This coming Tuesday, September 14, Colin's coming to Austin to play a show with me at Momo's.  It will be an extended, Happy Hour-palooza, from 5:15 until around 7:30 p.m.  The show will be some of me, some of him, and some of us.

There are so many reasons why the whole city of Austin needs to catch the Colin Boyd magic!  He writes the most yummy and catchy pop songs.  Like "Flutter," the song Jack Ingram recorded and took to #51 on the Billboard Country chart.  Or "Rainbows Follow the Rain," the song he wrote for a Barney movie.  He is a seasoned, rock solid performer who has logged about a bajillion live shows in the time I've known him.  His vocal and musical choices are always tasteful.  But perhaps my favorite thing about Colin Boyd is something you'll just have to come to Momo's next week and see live, and that's his amazing rhythm hand on the guitar.  Not that he doesn't rock it on the lead, too--but his rhythm hand is jangly and thwacky and for me, always a bit breathtaking. 

One of my favorite memories of my wedding day is Colin's version of Springsteen's "If I Fall Behind."  He is my very favorite guitar player, which is one reason why I wanted him to play in my band when I performed at SXSW.  Colin always sounds great, and I always know that when we share the stage, he's gonna make me sound great, too.  I can't wait for you to check us out!

My Coach

You may have asked yourself, "How does that Tricia do it?  How, exactly, did she grasp her creative life back from the swamp of motherhood?  How does she juggle all of those plates in the air, while standing on her head?"  If you have ever wondered, the answer is simple:  I have a lot of help.

For example, I have a creativity coach. Her name is Katherine Torrini, and we have been working together for almost a year and a half.  Mostly we talk on the phone, and sometimes we meet in person.  Since we began our relationship, I have accomplished many goals.  I have  successfully established routines around practicing and writing and also begun performing again.  However, these outward actions are merely the blossoms, the outcome of extensive inner discovery.  Katherine has supported me in questioning the way I feel and talk to myself about creating, helping me to remove real and perceived obstacles to getting to work. 

My favorite things about Katherine are her enthusiasm and her empathy.  She has the ability to meet me wherever I am on a given day.  The best thing about coaching is that it is my investment in my creative life.  I do it to strengthen me in remembering and making time for the most important and life-giving parts of myself. 

In October, I will be joining a new coaching group, led by Katherine.  If you live in Austin and are interested in investing in your creative life--which is to say, connecting with your truest self--maybe you'd like to join us?  Group coaching is more affordable than individual coaching, plus you will get the benefit of having a team.  The 3-month group will meet, in person, twice a month on Thursdays beginning October 7th, from 9:30-11:30 a.m.  Please contact Katherine, via her website, for more information!

Snippetwriter

I've had a lot of great breakthroughs this year. For one thing, I shocked myself by getting a regular, twice-monthly gig at Momo's.  And it really does get better and better, more and more fun, each time.  A couple of weeks ago, I met with a music publicist, Cash Edwards, who gave me a ton of great advice and suggestions about working with the local press to get more folks on my bandwagon.


I also have some great stuff coming up. In early October, for example, I'll be attending Tom Jackson's Live Music Performance Bootcamp in Nashville.  It's my first trip to Nashville, and since I'm a songwriter, I feel a bit like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, heading off to the Emerald City.  Only it's me who's green!

I'm writing away, fantasizing about having a purseload of new songs, with which to knock off everyone's cowboy boots.  But I find I'm just not finishing songs right now.  I don't really like that.

The other night, I had my Songwriter Date Night, and I took some time to look back over my big songwriting notebook.  As I flipped through it, I saw that I have a ton of snippets--ideas, unfinished bits, etc.  I also saw a few instances where I worked on songs for awhile, several times, before I managed to "finish" the song.  These are songs I play live now, and I got to go back and see how I started them four or five different times before I came to the version that turned into the "finished" one.  Each time, I added more depth and exploration and came to a clearer sense of what I was trying to do with the song.

I'm choosing to embrace the snippets.  To see myself as a snippet writer, not a songwriter, and trust that the snippets will lead me on.  If I get all freaked out, I put pressure on myself to finish things.  But I don't want to miss out on the depth. 

I Heart Creative Moms

This is a YouTube video by Mom's Rhap(sody). It's a parody of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." These women totally have my heart, because they're taking their everyday life and making art out of it. Brilliant, funny, nuts. Their kids are lucky. (Thanks to my friend John Winfrey for passing this on).

Approximating Fairness

                                                                     photo: Luke Sharrett/The NYTimes

This morning, as is usual when I run errands, I was listening to the radio.  Today's top story:  BP Chief Executive Tony Hayward's appearance before a House panel to discuss the recent oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico.  There weren't a lot of details at that point, but without hearing too much, I knew some of what to expect.  From our representatives, I assumed there would be high emotion, tough questions for Mr. Hayward, as well as opportunities to publicly declare--and for all of their constituents to witness--strong stances on the disaster.  From Mr. Hayward, I expected an apology and careful side-stepping of legally treacherous details.


This is how we do it when things go wrong.  Does it work?  Does it help?  I hope so.  Over the past two months since the Deepwater Horizon explosion, I have heard a lot of people, with much good reason, condemn BP, the oil industry, and corporations in general.  I've heard expressions of satisfaction that BP and its shareholders have seen their stock plummet in value.  I've heard a lot of folks express sadness, anger, and helplessness about the extent of the damage.  Some are tired of greedy executives.  Others, even those who drive gas-powered cars and enjoy the convenience of petroleum-based plastic products, have grown tired of the drawbacks of fossil fuels.

It's a relief, and a luxury, to have someone to be the target of all of that rage.  I envisioned another scenario, in which God was invited to appear before a similar committee.   I imagined outraged representatives presenting equally blistering questions on the technical aspects of various earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, hurricanes, and that obnoxious volcano that grounded European air travel for a week or so back in April: "Why does the Earth's mantle have faults, anyway?"  "Why must the continents drift?"  "What, exactly, did You know, and what did You do or neglect to do to protect innocent people?"  I imagined a "shakedown" in which God was summoned to the president's office and pressured to establish an e$crow account for the victims of His disasters.  I imagined the factions building on each side--one side defending, the other accusing--according to whether He had contributed to or doomed their political campaigns.  

I also imagined the outcry that might ensue if God failed to appear, which He has been known to do, at least in my experience.

I intend no disrespect to the residents of the Gulf Coast Region.  Nor do I intend to minimize the gravity of the destruction of life and property caused by this tragic disaster.  I just wonder about the productivity of the media frenzy.  No doubt, Tony Hayward wishes for a way to click the "Undo" button, to somehow have the power and capacity to make it up to the sea, the birds, the fishes and shrimp, and the fishermen and shrimpers who make their livelihood on the Gulf.  Not to mention BP shareholders.  Or the families of the 11 crew members who were killed.  Fairness isn't so easily found.  And so, in a scenario of specialized knowledge, expensive technology, mind-numbing devastation, and slow progress, we grope for fairness as best we know how.

Guest Blog Post

Check it out!

I wrote a guest blog post for Stacey Hoffer's blog, The Mom Renewal Project

My Comeback Gig

photo:  Melissa Kellogg

A couple of weeks ago, I played on stage for the first time in about three years.  While I have kept up writing, singing, and playing, I have taken a big ol' hiatus from performing since my daughter was born.  My "comeback gig" was a truly wonderful experience.  I had a great turnout of loving and supportive friends from my whole life in Austin.  I am so grateful for everyone who came out and helped create the festive and electric vibe.  Special thanks to my pal Renee Trudeau, who wrote a blog post about my show!

I loved playing at Momo's--it was my first time to play there.  I love the stage, the sound system, the fun indoor/outdoor space, and I loved the gorgeous weather we had that day.  My set wasn't perfect, but I knew it wouldn't be.  I had spent weeks working to remember my old songs, to write a new song, and I challenged myself to try out some guitar leads on about five of the songs. There are so many balls to keep in the air when you're doing it on your own, as I am.  Overall, I was really proud of myself.  Now I just have to replicate and improve it, over and over.

We had fun.  I gave out free CDs to everyone in the audience.  I sang a song about cookies.  Since I’m on this big scrapbooking kick, I had people sign a guest book to commemorate the night.  And I had a contest where folks could have a chance to win a $50 gift certificate to Waterloo Records if they named other artists who I sound like.  Want to know what they said?  My fans said I sound like early Jewel, Carrie Underwood, Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell, Tori Amos, Suzanne Vega, Sheryl Crow, Colbie Callait, Sarah McLachlan, the Indigo Girls, and Joan Baez. Wow!

They used these words to describe the show: “smokin’ hot,” “beautiful,” “amazing presence,” “grounded in life,” “sweet,” “from the heart,” “hilarious,” and “inspiring.”

This is my dream!  To listen, to write, to play, and to sing.  To make space for all of the things that we don't always talk about, but need to feel, once in awhile.  To explore the connection between audience and performer.  To experience the power of music.  And to have fun.  There, I said it.  I don't know why I have this dream, but I am committed to showing up to see where it leads me.   If you are reading this, I hope you will join me when I perform. My next Momo's Happy Hour is Tuesday, April 27th, 5:15-6:15!

Live at Momo's Happy Hour!

 

It's my debut at Momo's. It's my first public performance in over three years. It's my return to the stage after a "hiatus" known as motherhood. It's your chance to hear some old songs and some new songs. Bring your smile. Bring your heart--get ready for me to climb inside!

Wed. March 3rd.  5:15-6:15 p.m. 618 W. 6th Street.

What Makes Me a Good Mom?

First of all, I don't want to be a good mom.  I want to be an excellent mom.  I don't have to be perfect to be excellent.

So what makes me an excellent mom?
1.  An excellent mom is awake, present, open, and responsive.
2.  An excellent mom takes care of herself.  She has a self and a life.
3.  An excellent mom knows when to lead and when to follow her kids' lead.
4.  An excellent mom controls the pace and stress of the house.  She knows when to push and when to put on the brakes.  She doesn't overschedule herself or her kids!  She knows it's important to have time to putter.  She knows when it's time for a treat, a break, a bubble bath, or a backrub.
5.  An excellent mom is creative.  She creates "home," schedule, nourishment, nurturing, learning experiences, and perspective.
6.  An excellent mom is centered enough to weather the storms of her kids' feelings without getting sucked in.
7.  An excellent mom shares her joys, her struggles, her triumphs...not in a burdensome way, but in an informative way:  "this is what life is like...you try things..sometimes it works/feels good, sometimes it doesn't.  and you try again."
8.  An excellent mom has a network of support.  She doesn't try to do it all alone.



As kids, and as adults, who do I want them to be?
1. I want them to like themselves.  I want my kids to know who they are and what is right for them.  Sure, they can take time to arrive at that place, and they can make mistakes in the process.  But I want them to know that they have a place in the world, that they belong, just as they are.

2. I want them to be problem solvers.  I want them to develop tools to figure it out and/or ask for help.  I want them to be able to take something big and break it down into steps.  I want them to be confident to make decisions, to take risks, to try new things, and to learn and move on when/if something doesn't work.

3. I want them to dream big.  I want to provide an example to them that shows that dreams are real.  I want to help them to find the thing(s) inside of them that thrill them, and to make that into what they contribute to the world and make their livelihood from.

My Guru

It was around the holidays.  I was grocery shopping, with both kids in the cart, around 5 p.m.--the busiest possible time in the very busy store near my house.  I was dashing from aisle to aisle, trying to hustle our way out of the building with dinner, before either kid (or both!) melted down.  My mind was full of plans, my to-do list, the recording of the Christmas song I co-wrote with my friend Terri Fann, which I had been schlepping around to radio stations.


At first, I didn't notice him:  the aisles were so packed with people.  But as I walked past him, in this kind of incredulous tone, he said, "Wow!  You're really beautiful!"  And I must admit, I did look really good that day!  I was wearing jeans and boots, and my favorite new orange sweater, which my super-shopping husband had given me for my birthday.  But still--it's not every day that someone comments on my appearance in the middle of my grocery store trip.


I was so taken aback, I tried to think of what to say.  So I decided to keep it simple:  "Thank you."  That's when I first really saw him.  He was young, probably college-age.  I don't know what his particular diagnosis was, but he walked with a walker, so I would guess he had some type of nervous system degeneration--maybe multiple sclerosis?  Talking was, for him, a great effort.  So this one statement, "Wow!  You're really beautiful!" took awhile to get out.


After I thanked him, thinking that was the end of it, he went on:  "Are you seeing someone?"  And at that point, I really had to start laughing.  Good grief, who on Earth did this guy think he was?  I was wearing my wedding rings, I had two children in my cart, I was grocery shopping, and he was hitting on me?  Huh?  I must have looked confused, because he said it again:  "Are you seeing someone?"  Followed by, "Are you seeing me, right now?"  It was then that I saw the twinkle in his eye, and I laughed again and said, "Yes, I am.  I'm seeing you, right now."


I don't remember much after that.  I was in my hurry, and it was crowded, and the whole thing was just so...weird.  He shuffled off, and I finished my shopping.  But in the next few minutes, I realized that something truly momentous had just happened to me.  Here was someone who must be the subject of so much projection from people in life, just making up his mind to have a good time.  He just didn't care, in a way that was completely inspiring.  He was gone, but I was suddenly so curious about him--who he was, what was going on with his body, what his parents were like, everything.  I wanted to know how a spirit could be so bright, so oblivious of rejection.  I wanted to be just like him.


If I see him again, I hope I have time to buy him a coffee, and to hear more about his story.  For now, and from then on, he's my guru.

Ass Power

Quincy Jones famously attributed Michael's enormous success to his "ass power":

At one point I asked Q what separated the great stars from the near greats he'd worked with. "Ass power" was his reply. To illustrate his point, Q compared Michael Jackson to another well-known vocalist he'd produced. The other singer, an artist with an immense voice and an insatiable appetite for cocaine, would come to the studio, maybe lay down a scratch vocal, and then wander off for hours. Jackson, in contrast, would come to the studio, record a strong lead vocal, work the stacked harmonies that distinguished his work, and practice where to place those ad-libs that were his trademark.
"His ass power," Q said, "would keep him in the studio until he felt he'd accomplished something that day. That ability to focus, to stay in that chair in the studio, listening to playback and then going back in to record some more -- that's what separates the good from the great."

(From City Kid: A Writer's Memoir of Ghetto Life and Post-Soul Success by Nelson George)

On Accepting My Family Members the Way They Are

(This is a re-post of something I wrote in 2005).

It's the holiday season....
 
So that means it's time to get together with friends and relatives, go to parties and work get-togethers, and plan how we're going to spend those special days.

I've been thinking a lot about these rituals, as I prepare to spend part of Christmas Eve with my in-laws and most of Christmas Day with my family. I always try to reflect upon what the season means, I mean, aside from running around and shopping.

I spent seven years living away from my family, and now we're all in the same town again. I'm getting a crash course in what being a family member means. Ideally, families accept and support us no matter what. They provide company and friendship and a sense of where we come from. Ideally. Now, I don't know how your family is, but mine doesn't always meet my ideals.

For me, the birth of Christ represents a wellspring of hope into the world. This year, I am celebrating that hope by working on accepting others. That means accepting every single member of the bouquet of humanity, as I would like to be accepted.

It's no picnic, accepting others. Some people are quirky. Or abrasive. Or messy. Or absolutely lacking in empathy. Or really self-absorbed. Some are just plain clueless. One of my family members, who shall remain nameless, seems to need to have the TV turned up very loud to get through a social gathering, even for just a few hours. Another, also anonymous, is absolutely lovely and a joy to be around, provided that she's getting her way. After that, all bets are off. She becomes snippy, short-tempered, and brittle. And it's always someone else's fault!

All of these special qualities in my family members tend to make me have feelings in response, and they aren't generally comfortable or enjoyable feelings. I find myself wishing they'd change, fantasizing some more perfect family gathering that would result from their transformation.

But this year, I'm trying to avoid spending my time wishing these traits away.

Because I think it distracts me from being present. This year, I'm working on beholding my family in a spirit of gratitude and acceptance, treasuring each encounter just the way it is.

I'm working on giving and accepting love. Giving love even though someone else may have done something or been some way that means they don't deserve my love. Accepting love even if it doesn't feel just the way I hoped it would.


The tricky part is that some of these folks can really offend me, and I don't think being accepting means being a doormat. So it's a fine line to balance, accepting someone just how they are because it's probably the best they know, and also speaking up for myself, firmly, when my gut tells me I need to.

Lately, I've taken to wearing what I call an Invisible Teflon Shield. You can't see it, but it's silver, and I activate it with a switch above my head. And I also think a lot about the general health of my spirit in any given moment, and try to remain inspired no matter what goes on outside. I have an internal dialogue when someone irks me, and it goes something like this: "OK, so that happened. What does that really have to do with me?"

I've also been thinking about the 23rd Psalm, the part that says, "He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies." It may be shocking to think about family members as being enemies, but in a spiritual sense, they really can be. The way certain family members wield disapproval and judgment is truly a form of violence. That passage reminds me that God will continue to bless me even if every single person doesn't agree with or approve of me. Remembering that makes it easier to let go, to let others be nasty if that's the path they choose to walk. What does it have to do with me? I don't need them to change to know who I am and to walk my own path with confidence.

Finally, as I approach the big holiday week, I remind myself that it will all be over in a few days. We'll come together, there will be a bunch of moments, some warm and fuzzy, others cold and bristly. Each person will most likely do what each person tends to do. We may all get surprised by something. The experience either will or won't live up to our expectations of how a family holiday should be. My plan is to just keep breathing in and out.

Then we'll all go back to our respective lives.

In a way, the holidays are annoying, because they're a disruption to my normal routine, and they're a lot of extra effort. They can be truly overwhelming if I'm not up for it. But this year, I've really enjoyed the extra effort. I am excited about giving gifts. I attended a Christmas party that felt like Old Home Week, where I saw about a dozen friends I hadn't seen in almost a decade, most of whom didn't know I was even back in town. And I'm so looking forward to watching my kid open the gifts Santa has brought him because he's been so good! Today someone asked me how I was doing and I said, "I'm riding the wave." The wave, of course, being the holiday surge of energy. We have a few more days left until we reach a fevered pitch and then the wave will pass for another year.

God bless everyone!

Donations Needed

My street is adopting a family for the holidays.  It's a big family, and they need many things.  If you can help with any of the following items, please let me know by Friday, Dec. 18th.  Happy Holidays!

Mom: New Bed, cordless phone & answering machine

Mom & Aunt: Appointment at beauty salon for haircut

Son: New dresser for his room, watch, disco ball, gamer/floor chair for his room, hair clippers, telescope

Items for the entire family to enjoy: 

• Steam clean carpets
• New oven (the stovetop only works now)
• Space heaters (2)
• Monopoly
• Dance, Dance revolution (with compatible game system)
• PJ’s for all
• Futon to replace a living room couch
• New pillows, pillow cases
• Picnic table
• Karoke machine
• DVD player & DVD’s (requested: Dora, Spongebob, English learning instruction)
• Laptop w/internet
• Trampoline with net
• Bikes
• Stereo
• Nintendo Wii
• Game boy
• TV

For the younger ones:

• Little red wagon
• Little red scooter
• Step 2 Easel for two (says the young ones like to draw)
• Magnetic chalk/dry erase board
• Any Dora & learning toys
• (beds!?)
• learn to play drumset elmo
• learn to play keyboard
• baba baby elmo
• fun 2 learn cash register
• on the go gift set elmo

Loving What I Have

"Mona With Curly Hair," by Olaf-Jan, Norway

I wanted to post a photo of the woman who takes my latte order on Fridays, while I'm waiting for my daughter to finish her Gymnastics class.  However, although I chat with her every week, I'm too shy to ask to snap her photo.  So I will post this photo of Mona Lisa instead, with hair that looks a lot like the Latte Lady's.  The first time I met her, the Latte Lady's long, curly hair was swept up on top of her head in a bun, with big, uncontainable chunks spilling out--in short, the kind of hair I have always admired and wanted.  So, of course, I asked her what I always ask someone who has that kind of hair:  "Do you like your hair?"

Of course, she said "no."  She then went on to tell me about the lengths she goes through to straighten, flatten, blow-dry, etc., so her hair will be straighter. 

This will be a short post, because I have stuff to do, and it's about not really about hair.  It's about taking time to like what we have.  Lately I have been writing posts about my kids and parenthood and conflict, and how challenging it can all be at times.  I have written before that these intense moments capture my attention, but I need to say that, percentage-wise, they make up a very small part of my life as a mom.  And although I might make it sound like I would change my kids or my situation, I have numerous and frequent moments when I recognize that I really have a great deal going over here.

This weekend we went camping, and since the weather was absolutely beautiful, I had occasion to put sunscreen on my kids.  And I was slowed down enough to truly soak up the enjoyment of rubbing the lotion on their little faces.  I said all of these things, like "Hold still!," "Don't wiggle,"  "Be careful so I don't accidentally get it in your eye, it stings so much when that happens!"  All of that was true.  But really, I was just prolonging and savoring the opportunity to gently hold their little chins, and rub their cute little noses, and have them standing still, so close to me, for a little bit longer. 

I have been blessed with two of the most beautiful children ever.  They are healthy and bright and curious and energetic and loving.  Most of the time, I adore taking care of them, and I can't wait to see who they grow to become.  They do so many things right, and even their "wrong" is still just a part of learning about life on Planet Earth.

I just needed to say that, because it's true.  And I'm all about telling you the truth.

Comments, hmmm....?

How My Kids Drive Me Crazy

A few years ago, I had a cool conversation with Austin child psychoanalyst JoAnn Ponder.  Not only did she totally validate me by saying that she feels that being home with kids is harder than any other job, she described the parent's work as being a lot like being a therapist.  "You have to be IN your feelings, but able to step OUT of your feelings," she explained.

I loved that!  It perfectly summed up the crazy-making part of being a truly effective parent.  Sure, there are a lot of challenging things about raising kids.  Lots of decisions to make: things like what to feed them, when is bedtime, where do they go to school, who should they hang out with.  But, at least for me, none of that is what drives me crazy.  It's that part of being like a therapist that drives me crazy. 

First, the first part, being "in your feelings."  To be a great parent, you have to be deeply, and I would argue, almost insanely, engaged.  You have to be tuned in and connected to facilitate the optimal development of an infant, toddler, preschooler, or older child.  This truth is the reason why you can't outsource your parenting to a computer game, Baby Einstein video, or boarding school.  Your kid might develop in relationship to any of these things, but she won't thrive as well as a child whose parent really cares about her and spends time in the trenches with her.  Some--especially some who have never had kids--say this kind of engagement is mere narcissism, namely, that I love my kid so much because he/she is MY kid.  For me, I love my kids because they're my kids, but I also just love kids.  I am motivated by a blend of wanting to help create happy and mature humans and a sense of responsibility to society and to my kids.

So when we are "in our feelings," the best barometer of our kid is our own feelings.  If we are open and connected to them, we exist in this bizarre state of symbiosis (only we're the same species, sort of!).  We muddle along with them, and we feel what they feel.  If they're happy, we light up.  If they fall down, we mirror concern and frustration.  This feeding-back process how kids learn to understand and internalize a sense of their emotions.  And it can be really fun and rewarding for the parent, too.  Our kids, with their not-quite-yet connected cerebral cortexes, rely on us to regulate their emotions.  I like to think of it as their making a remote connection into my limbic system.  "Thanks, Mom!  Much better now..."

Yet there's this second part, the "able to step out" part.  Normally, that just means that the parent and the child are not equals, and that the parent, ideally, has a greater level of objectivity and control, which he/she lends to the child.  Even this business about helping kids label the feelings that go with experiences shows that the parent is in a different place.  He/she isn't actually the one with the skinned knee, but rather the one who helps the child name and process the feelings that go with it.  So even though a good parent is tuned in and invested in what his/her child is going through, it is really important to be able to both be there and let the child have the space to have her own experience.

Knowing when I should step out of my feelings is fairly straight forward for me.  Being able to...well, that's the real challenge.  For one thing, all kinds of things, such as sleep deprivation, sickness, bad days, and other upsets can make my own feelings especially sticky in a way that can ooze out onto my kids.  When I am in need of rest or support, I am sometimes a little too connected to my kids' feelings.  Which is bad news, because they're all over the place!  And then there are the times when my kids are actively attempting to hook me in to their feelings.  For example, as another famous child psychoanalyst, Erna Furman, wrote, "The toddler's close but primitive relationship with the mothering person contains a kind of love which derives pleasure not only from mutual kindness but also from mutual irritation and conflict. ..at times, hurting and being hurt are sought and felt as a form of being intensely close to each other."

I know that, when my kids are being little pests, they're not doing it deliberately to drive me crazy.  Who wants her mom to be carted off, after all?  They're doing it because they're acting out something they're feeling, and they probably couldn't put words on it if they tried.  Or they're tired, or hungry, or overstimulated.  Or teething.  Whatever!: they're still being pests!  The vast majority of the time, I take it in stride, maintain my center, and step out of the way.  But if I'm not on top of my game for some reason, it really does feel like my head is going to explode, and not taking things out on them is a big challenge.  Sometimes I send myself to Time Out.  Sometimes I give warnings that I am about to begin yelling, which no one likes.  And sometimes I actually do yell.  Mostly, I just wish for a vacation, or someone who will take care of ME for awhile.  I remind myself that the stress comes in finite pockets of time that eventually pass.  Sometimes, just for laughs, when my husband comes home from work on one of these extra-pesty days, I quip cheerfully, "Did you bring home any heroin for me?"

I'd love to hear your observations...leave a comment!

Where My Rights Begin

I want everyone to leave my blog, right now, and go over and read this one.  It's a post by Bernadette Noll, about what is, for me, the most fascinating and vexing parenting reality:  what to do, how to respond, when I get angry at my kids.

By now, all faithful readers of my blog know that I sometimes lose it with my kids, as evidenced here. To give myself credit, it doesn't happen often.  But it's so huge when it does, and it feels so overwhelming, that I find it absolutely compelling.  I want to understand myself in these moments.  And mostly, I want to find a reliable and principled way to deal with them.

So now I am inspired by Bernadette, and I was planning to write more on this topic anyway!  I got several comments on that post about smacking my son, folks saying how courageous I was to write it.  To me it doesn't feel that way.  It feels natural to write about it.  If I'm not ashamed to ACT that way with my kids, I sure shouldn't be afraid to WRITE about it. (Oh...but I was ashamed to act that way!  anyway...)

Here's what I wrote on Bernadette's "comments" page:
"Why isn't everybody in the world talking about these moments with our kids? In our ker-ay-zee world of war and suicide bombers, why aren't all parents taught, early and often, about these inevitable times?  Because they're just the very most important opportunities, that's all. Dealing with anger--that almighty mobilizer and protector of our selves--is the linchpin of our work as parents. Whatever we do, our kids will take as true, and bring out into the world. Just like all the other billions of humans are doing."

Family life is the greatest of intimacies.  It's about love and sharing, and it's also about our needs bumping up against each other.  When anger comes up, it is always our self telling us that we are ignoring and/or neglecting it.  The trick, especially with kids, is to heed that warning and stand up for ourselves, AND to do so in a way that we would feel proud to see our kids replicate.  I want to give my kids a way to deal with their own, and others', anger--one that will best serve them in life, outside of our unique family communication system.

When I am angry at my children, it is generally for these reasons:

• They are behaving egocentrically, i.e., incapable--usually temporarily--of thinking of anyone else.  Of course!  They're kids
  
• They are harming persons or property.
• They don't "get it" about what's expected in a given setting.
  
• They are demanding my presence, only in an unacceptable way--by acting out.  They need my authority and leadership (and often, a pillow).
  
• I am overwhelmed and undercared-for in some/many ways. 

I'm going to be writing more about this, and I hope you'll be reading and chiming in.