She's on Her Way

I had an unexpected reaction to being a one-person support staff for Macy’s senior photo shoot on Sunday. I had our wagon with the makeup, outfit changes, lint roller, etc. As we wheeled to the first area of the park, we passed the playground. There were toddlers everywhere.

My body went right back. It was like rewinding an old VHS tape. I’m immediately there. To all those afternoons in the grass. So many viewings of Finding Nemo. Big belly laughs. A million frozen blueberries after we picked them for the first time. Reading side by side (we still do this on occasion).

People say we look alike. We joke that we just have similar taste in glasses.

She has always been herself. From that first day of kindergarten where she left with her chin up and did not look back, I knew. She dressed herself in wild patterns in preschool and I did not say a word.

We go to the first site and the photographer is checking light. We’re laughing. She looks beautiful, and young. This is her first look and it’s meant to be a little youthful. She’s so beautiful, I can barely look at her. My heart is bursting.

I begin texting my best friends. I’m freaking out. It’s too much. The beauty is overwhelming. Guys, I was not prepared for being in my feelings! I was thinking about logistics.

We hustle to the bathrooms because my girl does not want to change behind blankets we hold up. Her next look is more how she feels now, her theater self. It’s more modern, whimsical. We purchased a quill and leather-bound book for the occasion. We head to the garden. More laughter. Our photographer pays me an unexpected compliment. It registers with kindness.

We’re in a field. We’re mentioning the cool feature on the back of the dress. She’s natural. We even see her teeth in a few shots. We’re having fun.

She’s so composed. She’s always been a serious person. I respect her so much.

We race back to the bathroom for the final look. It’s more edgy. The most adult. Our photo shoot is running over time. Should I pay her more? I brought cash in the exact amount plus tip. Shoot.

We walk down the lane where we took family pictures two years ago, where we will be again in a few weeks the three of us. But tonight is about just one person. This person who is becoming. I’m watching this shot be taken and I think, my God, she is a woman.

Yes she is wearing my clothes and we’re still working on driving, but she is a woman. I text my friends, when did this happen?!?

I see her childhood dimples and her first audition at eight years old. I see her face disappointments and still celebrate those who got what she wanted. I see her rolling her eyes at her sister, and learning how to push back in our relationship. I see her. I see her. I see her.

In all our primary relationships, we project. I saw this so clearly when I left my long-term marriage. We project so much onto people we care so deeply about. It’s normal. It’s inevitable. It is tragic.

I want to see her so clearly. I have always wanted that. And I know, too, that no mother ever fully witnesses her daughters clearly. We see them and there are hidden parts. This is part of it. But my God, have I tried to witness. And I will keep trying. Forever.

She’s always belonged to herself. And that remains.

I cannot describe how incredibly beautiful it it to watch a woman become. I see every version of her I’ve known. I imagine future versions of her, God willing. And I adore every. single. one.

I can’t help but imagine that this might be how God sees us. And how we must see ourselves. I’ve spent the past few years really adoring old versions of me. Versions who were afraid of her own power. Versions that loved so hard and tried too much. Versions that meant well and were so terribly wrong. I see her. I see her. I see her. I love her. Look at her become.

If God is outside of time, can they see us in all our versions at the same time? Is mothering the closest thing to God?

I know I’ve never loved anyone as much as this child. And I know I never will. (and of course, her sister, too).

I don’t parent from a sense of who I think my kid should be. That never made sense to me - to the point, that I’ve always been clear that I have no idea who my kid should be. I love her hard and I try to live my life in integrity. I give her access to supports and community that I think she may enjoy. I feed her and hug her. I listen to know her well. That’s it.

All of that to say, I fucking cherish her beyond all else. The beauty radiating from her on Sunday is so much more than youth and actual physical beauty. She is wise. She is grounded. She is powerful. She’s fucking magic.

I live with a lot of privilege. My job reminds me every single day what a gift it is to do it. But the greatest privilege of my life has been standing on the sidelines watching these kids as they become. My God, what a gift.

Hospitality is More of a Posture than an Industry

I just got back from my grad school intensive last week in Durham, NC. What a trip! People who have done my program often say that Durham is the best out of the four intensives. It was phenomenal. The class we focused on together is called, Hospitality as Leadership, led by a kick ass female head of the Bible department (first in the churches of Christ…Naomi, you’re a bad ass).

If you’ve spent any time in the Bible, particularly the Jesus stuff, you’ll know that hospitality was something Jesus got in trouble for a lot. Not the hospitality industry where everything is fancy and requires payment, but old school hospitality where whores were washing his feet and terrorists were sharing meals with the religious folk (much to their horror). Jesus was the type of guy who broke a lot of rules. He hung out with people he wasn’t supposed to and he shared food with them, which in the Jewish faith was a major no-no. And while I like rule-breaking to a level I never admired when I was younger, I don’t think this was just because Jesus liked to theologically rumble from time to time (though I think he did) but because he really thought people were more important than laws and rules. He made space for people who society had said didn’t deserve space (uh oh, how can you not think of our border crisis now?!?!) I even think that he didn’t welcome those who weren’t “worthy” by society’s standards in spite of their station socially but because of their status. Having lived a life of a “lower” person, perhaps their perspective was important, irreplaceable, needed in the religious world? When everyone has a seat at the table, the conversation changes.

Part of what we do in the program is develop personal rhythms to sustain us in our spiritual practices and studies. It’s not about learning all the things with books but about experimenting and being open to new ideas and ways of life. But reading all the books and writing all the papers along with trying to make space for those we’ve been told don’t matter requires A LOT of self-care. Hence, the rhythms. It includes intentionality around prayer, hospitality, attentiveness, and simplicity. We write them ourselves so it’s really just a way to create something for us (we have a spiritual formation director who supports us in this…shout out to Natalie). And I am being more intentional with my hosting and being hosted within my family.

And so I had this moment with my oldest this morning…this daughter who I keep thinking won’t need me as much now that she’s in middle school. And yet, this kid shouts good-bye to me in front of all the cool kids at the bus stop and wants me there waiting for her (two blocks from our house) every day after school. She is giving me opportunities to host her and to be hosted by her. I’ve heard this in the context of marriage being described as “love bids.” Partners, and all loved ones, give us opportunities all the time to lean in or to lean out of the relationship. And while part of me thinks “can’t she just walk two blocks alone, I already took my bra off?!?!”, what this class is reminding me is that my daughter wants to host me in her day. The question is, can I make space for her while I host myself? I have a body and my own emotional needs and an incredibly demanding schedule. Those things are involved in just being me in my life right now. I need to make space for me in the midst of my life and that requires a lot of care and balance with my time and energy. Can I also make space, in these little ways, to say yes to hosting and being hosted by my child? And can I see those opportunities for connection as not just part of my motherly duty (does that ever really end?) but as even a way to bring blessings to me? This is not a one way street.

A lot of ideas around hospitality now are about helping guests feel comfortable. And that is really important. But have you ever played the role of host for the evening and at the end of the day, felt refreshed by the company? Have you felt loved and heard even as you poured coffee and served food? We think that hospitality is a top-down, one-direction dynamic. But, if we’re honest and also open, hospitality can be a circle. We can give and receive throughout the evening and the entire relationship. When I was in ministry, I positioned myself as giver and rarely as receiver. What an exhausting and prideful way to live! And how much did I miss out on when I postured myself that way?

I just wrote about seeing myself as a colander creating space for people to share things. That idea is in line with hospitality. It’s not about a physical space (Jesus was not a home owner). It’s about connection. It’s about eye contact. It’s about paying attention. Maybe it’s actually a gift from God to me that my oldest is open and honest about her need for me. And maybe that’s not another thing on my list but the exact thing I need to remind myself that my priority is love, no matter how easy it is to get caught up in everything else.

Obsession with Innocence

As Jonathan VanNess would say, “I’m strugs to func” right now guys. (I told you it was the summer of Queer Eye). My kids both start new schools tomorrow and both situations are not what I was hoping for. One didn’t get into the arts school we dreamed about for years and the other didn’t get the accommodations I was hoping she’d get to adjust well. I’ve struggled with my feelings about this since we started pursuing the options we ended up not getting back in January. And being rejected from those opportunities was really painful and scary for me as a mom.

Tonight, I’m on the cusp of that transition. Tomorrow is the first day of school. Macy will take the bus for the first time, change classes for the first time, have a phone on her for the first time, and just freakin’ be in middle school (the school that everyone I know says is basically the worst place on the planet…still not sure how this is helpful?!?!) And Penny will start at “regular” school (as opposed to Montessori) in a beautiful brand new building with basically no one that she knows. She missed her old teacher tonight meeting her new one. She struggled on the playground equipment. She asked about what it would be like when we left her there tomorrow without anyone she knows.

I’m scared. I’m scared my kids are not ready because I don’t feel ready. I’m scared they’re going to get hurt and I won’t be there to protect them. I’m scared that the adults in charge of them are overworked and understaffed and will miss important things. I feel shame. I feel like I need to be able to control all the things and the fact that I can’t means I’m not a good mother. I know that’s not true but shame is a liar and I am crying tonight with those thoughts.

I’ve done the work to recognize the source of this shame. Between my exclusively Christian education and the purity culture movement, somehow I’ve learned that I’m not capable (so now my kids aren’t) of handling the awfulness that is the big bad world. I’ve learned that innocence is the most important thing - the thing to protect at all costs. I’ve learned that once it is lost there is no way to get it back. You are forever changed in the worst possible way. I feel really backed into a corner because the kids are in situations that I wouldn’t have chosen and cannot prevent. And we don’t have other choices. So somehow, whatever happens to them in these environments represents my inability to “save” them (hello codependency!) from certain, unredeemable doom.

I really think there’s something here. Some sort of parent-based shame. We are taught to be obsessed with innocence. That morality and purity must remain perfectly in tact in order for our kids to be happy and healthy and safe.

Here’s the thing, guys: THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT.

I know it. You know it. Thank God, my husband knows it and has been talking me down through my tears for months. Pain teaches us stuff. If my kids aren’t capable, guess what, the experiences they have will increase their capability! If they are never challenged or shocked or even harmed, how can they grow and learn and hold the pain that life will inevitably bring in adulthood?!?! How can they be compassionate if they’ve never needed compassion? How can they learn to be kind if they’re never treated poorly? Sometimes life lessons are waiting for us on dangerous barely-supervised bus rides and on playgrounds where you cry in fear and adults don’t hear you.

I’m scared. But I’m resolute. We are present, capable parents who will go to bat for our kids if needed. In the meantime, class is in session.

Cake Either Way

Today is the day we find out if Macy got into the arts academy in our public magnet school program. The kiddo is the perfect candidate, but A LOT of kids want to go. We’ve been waiting awhile to find out and I’ve just had to compartmentalize the “not knowing” for several weeks so I can be a mostly functional person. However, I can no longer compartmentalize because today is the day. I’m supposed to be outlining my giant ass research paper due in a week and instead, what am I doing? I’m burning sugar. Literally.

Last week, Macy looked at the calendar and said, on March 1st, no matter what, we’re eating cake. Her logic was, if it’s good news, we’ll have a celebratory cake. And if it’s not good news, we’ll eat cake because it’ll make us feel better. The cake she chose is an old-timey recipe we found years ago for her American Girl birthday party. It’s called, you guessed it, Burnt Sugar Cake. It’s delicious. And tedious. And requires all the bowls. But it’s worth and she’s worth it and so as my outline remains blank, I’ll be in the kitchen burning sugar. Waiting.

As I’ve gone through my school process, I’m learning to tune into my patterns and I’ve noticed that I do concrete, embodied things in moments like this. I make bread. I listen to music. I bake. I write. I paint. I go outside. When I feel out of control or I need to pay attention or I need extra care, these are the things I practice. It makes me wonder: outside of our obvious shared sweet tooth, does my little 10 year old know I needed to make a cake today? Sometimes I wonder.

It’s important to me that whatever news we get today is Macy’s news. Whatever feelings I have about it, those are mine to hold and process while she receives support from me and Tim to process hers. I’m gonna need that cake to keep my feelings to myself and to not put any of my stuff into her box. Ultimately, her story is hers. I’m just a supporting actor.

Parenting Without the Control Panel

I’m having a hard week. I thought the strategy of doing absolutely nothing over break would gird me for my regular life, like I could bank energy and be good to go when everything started back up this week. Turns out, sleeping as much as you want and doing whatever you want for days on end does not gear you up for 7am wake up calls and busy after school and evening activities. Crisis not averted. I’m exhausted.

On top of the transition issues, this week has brought front and center the middle school application process (magnet schools) and the school testing process for Penny to start public elementary next year as a first grader (trying to get her ducks in a row if she needs accommodations). Having both kids change schools at the same time and having them both be scary transitions for me (from private to public school with a developmental delay and elementary to middle school) is not sitting well with me this week. A million kids want to go to the school Macy and I have been dreaming about since second grade. And my local elementary school is being run by an administrator that is driving out all the good teachers, so what am I supposed to do with my amazing little one? I want them to have the best.

I don’t normally navigate life from a fear base. But these upcoming transitions for my kids is hitting me in that gut place of being out of control of something that feels like I should be in control of. Does that make sense? I’m not in control of either process. I have choices I can make for Penny (like driving her across town for school for the next 5 years, which also limits what I can do when I’m done with school) but Macy’s process is just a one in a million shot. We can’t make it happen. I can’t just pay a fee or sign her up. I can’t go in and pave the path. And she might be the perfect candidate and there just aren’t enough spots open. I’m really struggling with that reality. I feel like I know what is right for my kid and she might not get it. And I think I’m feeling shame over that, like I should be able to get it for them, especially because she totally deserves it and is a great candidate for the program.

Parenting can be painful. I don’t live out of a place of scarcity but I’m feeling pressured to right now. There really are only so many slots in this school, you know? And I can’t talk my way into a spot for my kid. They don’t even let parents come into the workshop/audition/interview process (good call on their part!) I didn’t expect to be a controlling parent. And I’m not particularly controlling of my actual human children. But I am controlling about their environment and opportunities. I think they should have everything. I also want all the other kids to have everything. Not where everything is just handed to them and they become entitled brats, but I think they should get the opportunities to grow and explore that are available.

Tim and I were talking it through and he was saying lots of kids at shitty schools go on to do great things and our kids can too no matter where they go. And he’s totally right and thank God for him. And let’s face it: I don’t really care if my kids are “successful.” I don’t give a shit about money as long as their basic needs are met. I want them to feel a sense of pride in who they are. I want them to be kind. I want them to do what they love. And I want them to have love and to be happy with themselves and others. I don’t need them to “be” anything for me to feel like “I” did something right. I just don’t want the world to crush my kids. I want that amazing flame to burn bright and for no one to have the power to quench it. That’s all. I’m scared.

I'm Still Hurting

Tonight I’m asking myself, how do I raise two little girls in the world of Kavanaugh’s and Blasey-Ford’s? What do we do with the reality waiting for our children, a world they know nothing about? My instinct is to protect them from the battle for as long as possible. You only get one shot at being a kid. And yet tonight, my heart is so heavy for women and I want to raise warriors. The problem is, of course, even warriors need someone to follow them. The more I ascribe to ideas from Glennon Doyle (“we belong to each other”) and Rob Bell (“love wins”) the more I recognize how connected we all are. A traumatic event for one teenaged girl is a trauma we carry collectively. That cannot have been more explicit these last few weeks. And we should carry it together because we’ve created the world both in which it happens and in which no one really cares to change. We’ll listen and give her bravery acknowledgement, but we’ll still care more for the accused than the assaulted. Unless it’s a man of color, or a poor person or both. Then we’ll send them to death row without proof.

I know I’m not in the most rational place tonight. And I do understand a reasonable concern about not having accusations be enough without seeking to validate testimony. I get that. I really do. But tonight, I’m holding the hearts and bodies of women all over the world and I want that precious burden to matter more. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t have to choose. Women would be given dignity because we are human and innately valuable not because of or in spite of our sexual appeal or vulnerability. We should be given dignity because we are worthy of it. And we wouldn’t have to worry about the reputation of innocent or guilty men. That’s the dream. And there are many good men out there. I live with one. If I had sons, I would want them to be good men and I would want them to not have to worry about a false accusation for the one in a million times it actually happens.

I hate to tell you guys this though - we have not reached the tipping point even remotely where these concerns are equal. Not even one fucking little bit.

Until we’re ready to take ownership individually and culturally for our rampant exploitation of and violence against women (especially women of color and trans women), the Kavanaugh’s of the world are going to have to get in the back of the line.

For reals. It’s not that he or his reputation if he is indeed innocent don’t matter. But they don’t matter as much as centuries or more of the exploitation of women. Not even a little bit.

Making the argument that both people have been victimized by this is a false equivalent. It’s obvious it hasn’t been a walk in the park for anyone, by no small means for the people of this country either. I’ve been walking with a heavy tread for weeks and I’ve never even been sexually assaulted. I have friends who’ve spent days sobbing, particularly the day of the testimonies, because it was so triggering and true to their actual lives. I cried watching Blasey-Ford because I was so moved by her courage. I felt her truth woman-to-woman via YouTube, dude. She is the real deal. And because of that, my heart is breaking. I want her truth to be enough. I don’t want her trauma to be used as some political ploy on either side. I certainly don’t want her to be the butt of any jokes, thanks Mr. DJT. Ugh. Disgusting.

What good is courage that falls on deaf ears? What does it mean to ALL WOMEN when you ignore our pain? What do we tell our daughters about speaking their truth if even when they do, no one will care?

These are the questions my heart is holding tonight. Most days I live in faith that things will get better. I look around me at the courage of all the women in my life and in the world and I am deeply inspired. I am inspired by Blasey-Ford.

I just want a better world for her tonight.

I want the loss of whatever future lay before her prior to that night to matter for something. I want the senseless opportunism and aggression and total disregard for humanity to stop. I want a man’s insecurity and need for power to be checked. Hell, I want to see it checked by other men so the victimizers can’t just dismiss us any more. We need allies. Not just on Facebook. We need allies in the Supreme Court. As much as I adore RBG, she ain’t gonna live forever. We don’t need someone to speak for us. The incredible Blasey-Ford’s are doing that beautifully. We need her testimony to matter. We need the slut shaming to stop. We need the stalking and the death threats to stop. We need the questioning of her character, her motives, her choices to stop.

We deserve to be heard. We demand to be heard. Will you listen?

A Letter to My Daughters as I Start Graduate School

My darling Macy and Penny,

As I pack my bags, ready to embark on my first graduate school intensive, I want to take a minute to talk to you about ambition and family. If you decide when you're older that you want to become a mother, know that you can fulfill that role however you deem best. Many people will tell you that you're only a good mother if you work or stay home or get married or stay married or breastfeed or sleep train and on and on. People will weigh in during your pregnancy. People will you tell you how to discipline, feed, educate, socialize and train your child. 

I want you to know that one of the hardest things for me to learn in my adult life has been how to tune out the opinions of others (especially the unsolicited ones!) and to tune into my gut instincts and inner voice. The world will have so many things to say to you about your value as a woman and if you decide, as a woman with children. People will tell you to be smaller because you have babies. You are needed in the diapers and the laundry and the millions of feedings. In these ten years as a full-time parent and part-time business woman, I have tried my best to hold space for what I perceived as your needs and for what I felt I needed as a person. And there have been seasons where that has been tremendously difficult.  It is so important to not get lost in the mundane, in the roles, in the predetermined rules, in the responsibility of it all. I can say that because I take my responsibilities seriously (if you don't, that's a different conversation). 

It is because I take my responsibilities seriously, that I must also take seriously my responsibility to care for and to be true to myself, to my purpose and sense of contribution in the world. People will tell you that a social contribution is something separate from mothering. It is not. Mothering is a tremendous contribution to make in the future of society whether you also earn an income doing it or not. I am raising you to be strong, kind, honest young ladies in the world, to make space for people different from you, to share your joy and to continue to make peace in the world. I couldn't be more proud of (and grateful to your father) the time that I was able to focus on your upbringing in these formative years with you at home.

I want to make the world a better place. I have for as long as I can remember. I have a deep passion for social justice and for theology and human relationship. So while you are in school during the day, I will be reading and writing and learning more in these areas. I will discipline myself. I will hone my skills. I will see where this road takes me. I will try to be a voice for the voiceless, to listen to stories that aren't being heard and to bridge the gaps in our society. And at 3pm, I will be in that pick up and will always back you up. No matter how far I venture into the world outside of our tiny nest of four, I will always come home to you. I will tuck you in and I will read you books and I will love you forever. Some things will not change no matter how old you get. You will always have a home in me.

It is my ultimate goal to provide stability for you at home while clearing the path for you in the world. Your words matter. Your beliefs are your choice. Your ambition is encouraged. I'm getting out there for me, undoubtedly. But I'm also getting out there in front of you to show you the way. I want you to see how it's done. Your day will come. And it's gonna be great!

Now about catching that flight...

Making Space for Women

Disclaimer: a mother is going to publicly say that sometimes her physical, mental and emotional boundaries are limited and motherhood occasionally pushes those boundaries. Let the silent or not so silent judgement begin!

One of my least favorite things about being a mother of young children is the lack of physical and verbal space. It's funny, even saying that publicly I run the risk that I will look like a bitch who resents her children. And I love being a mom and love being with them. But, I am constantly being tracked and talked to. Every task I perform when my children are home is happening with a background of them wanting my constant verbal input. I have a very busy mind so constant talking feels like a disruption of all the self-talking my brain is doing already, often while I'm performing 1-3 tasks simultaneously. And they always know where I am physically in the house but they still often confirm it with a holler that necessitates a verbal response. It's developmentally appropriate and reflection of a true connection and bond. This is healthy and good and normal. And when I'm not overstimulated, I love engaging my children with physical affection and verbal attention. But it is inconvenient and sometimes even oppressive. Inevitably, if I take two steps out of a child's eyesight, even when I've just spoken of my intended whereabouts, I will hear my name called out. I am needed. Two steps away. Not in thirty seconds when I will return. Right now. I am usually going into the garage to grab them whatever snack they've requested or running up the stairs for something I or they want. That in no way deters them from the distress they feel upon my removal from their sight. They often come in when I'm using the toilet. I will come upstairs to my room to change my clothing (and to get 30 seconds of silence) and there will be two little feet padding 10 steps behind me. This does not happen to my husband when he is home. He says that it makes him kind of sad to only get my attention leftovers (which is valid) but I think if he had the full impact of the level of attention I receive, it would definitely drive him even more bonkers than me as he's a social but introverted person. This is how I feel as an extrovert. I have no idea how introverted or highly sensitive primary caregivers do this. My kids will talk to Tim and want to know if he's home when they suspect he has arrived (by asking me, of course), but he is not object of this constant homing beacon dynamic. They will sometimes transfer it to him if I'm not home, especially for a significant amount of time. But it only applies to him when he's alone with them. It applies to me when I'm with them all the time, so the majority of my waking hours (and sometimes sleeping ones) for the past ten years. This is not just about the fact that I am their mother. It is also because I am their primary caregiver. So this dynamic does transfer to dads who are stay-at-home parents. But that is statistically very rare, right? 

Women are biologically responsible for propagating the species. Not all women should or are interested in doing so (nor should they be coerced to) but this process cannot work without uteruses. In order for humans to continue to exist, women are required to share BODILY space. And while it's magical (seriously, really cool) it is also difficult, sometimes oppressive and even dangerous to our physical and mental health. It's genuinely hard. It hurts. It changes us physically forever. It requires us to walk down the tunnel of birthing, wherein no one can follow us. No matter what medical interventions available to a woman, no matter the supportive coach, no matter the bad ass strong fetus, a woman births alone. It's empowering and painful and amazing. But no one can do it for you, not in that moment. That requires courage that many do not understand. And often we enter that solo space without being prepared for it, at least the first time. 

We also seem to praise women who are mothers as being "selfless." That the epitome of good mothering is not caring for yourself. And while parenting requires inevitable stewardship over the safety and well-being of a tiny person, that in no way means you stop having needs or should shirk them indefinitely. Yet every damn Mother's Day card is about giving, sacrifice and selflessness. What is on Father's Day cards? Golf clubs and grills. Why? Because men are defined by their interests and activity (including work) and women are defined by their nurturing and giving to others. We expect dads to express their fatherhood by taking time off to play and we expect women to be selfless and want to hang out with their families. I know mothers of adult kids and grandkids often want family time on Mother's Day. That's awesome and I can totally see myself wanting that in my 60's. In my 30's, I want sleep, time with my friends, time alone with some family time sprinkled in as well. And I love it when we get to share that time with our extended family, whom we don't see as often as we'd like. People have different needs and if the day is supposed to be about them, it's always good to ask them what that looks like for them this year instead of assuming or just keeping up tradition. 

I have a friend who often documents on social media how men take up public space, in particular, on public transportation. There are a lot of widely spread knees and items placed upon seats unnecessarily, often next to a woman trying to be as small and courteous as possible. Sometimes I imagine the way men take up public space is intentional, a way of marking territory, claiming space on purpose before someone else does. It's a scarcity mentally, right? In other situations or with other men, it's probably subconscious. We teach boys to conquer, to take, to claim for themselves what's "rightfully" theirs from a very young age. They are taught that masculinity means muscles, bigness, acquisition of assets. Girls are taught to be small, to be conquered, to be pretty and quiet. We are expected to cross our legs seemingly to be modest, but is it also to take up less space?

My dad grew up with the ideology of "children are to be seen not heard" and I don't think he was fully able to shake it in raising us. I think you could argue that society adds to that mantra, "girls are to be pretty not loud." Women are often praised first for their looks and second for their ability to be humble, demure and meek. There is nothing wrong with physical beauty or passivity in and of themselves. If that is natural to you, you should be those things. But I wonder how much of that is taught? We choose decorations based on how they improve our environment. The more unique and decorative the piece, the more it reflects our tastes as collectors. The problem is, women aren't decorations. We don't want to be placed on a pedestal and admired for our beauty. Not really. We want a seat at the table not on the wall. *

I had someone recently ask me who I would be or what opportunities would I have pursued at a younger age if my gender wasn't considered a liability in the conservative church? I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA. Why? Because my formation happened INSIDE that environment. How much of myself was shaped by what I was allowed or not allowed to be? How much was explicitly said versus implicitly taught? How much subtle or not so subtle redirection happened when I expressed interest in things I wasn't "supposed to do?" Sure, I can teach children, even professionally. But is that because I was conditioned to or because I actually wanted to? How much of all that stuff did I internalize versus others in the same environment? More than most, I'd say. I'm a very sensitive intuitive person, which added to my "otherness" in a patriarchal space that doubled down on "fact" versus "gut feelings."

A man whose church has gone through the process of "allowing" women to use their gifts fully listened to my sermon from a few months ago. And he heard my words about women being conditioned to not speak up and kinda felt like, "haven't we already addressed this?" Like, if we just remove the barriers, the problem is solved. Oh man, would that it could be that simple! I fucking wish!

Sometimes we "solve" the perpetuation of bad ideology but those it has targeted still carry around those wounds and scars.

That's why it's still hard for women. That's why it's still hard for people of color and for the LGBTQ+ community. Even being given the space or being encouraged to take more space doesn't make it easy. And the second you put your toe over the line, you expect to get pushed back. Sadly, that still happens. A lot. Those with privilege are sometimes willing to relinquish some space but only if you'll use it the way they want you to (hello Colin Kapernick!) 

So if women are statistically way more likely to be the primary caregiver of children both as mothers and as professional educators and daycare providers. And children have to live in a uterus to come out fully formed after 9-10 months of incubation. Men are taught to be big and to take up physical space. Women are reinforced to be decorative, which requires smallness. It's not a real mystery why it requires courage for women to create space for themselves and why it requires humility for men to give it. This dynamic isn't random or accidental. These are little and big ways patriarchy plays out in day to day life. This dynamic is perpetuated on purpose. It's like when we admit that our criminal justice department isn't actually broken when it treats people of color more harshly. IT'S WORKING PERFECTLY ACCORDING TO DESIGN. And though we're making progress in small ways, and we really are, until women and other marginalized groups are able to ASSUME equal space and regard without hesitation, fear of reprimand or the need to constantly reassure those with more privilege that we're not going to go too far with our newfound equity, we won't be done. We've got work to do.

* Side Note: Did anyone see Tina Fey on Letterman's new Netflix show? He flippantly said something about how he wasn't sure if women even wanted to write for his talk show when it was on the air for decades (almost like, it wasn't that great even though it was the hottest ticket in town for a comedy writer at the time). She immediately came back with, "We do." OF COURSE WE DO. I think he was saying it more as an act of false modesty, but how ignorant do you have to be to think it's presumptuous to imagine that working women want to be in the top tier of their field?

Tradition!

Sometimes you find out how your parenting is going based on passive observation. Of course, we all sit down and have purposeful, intentional conversations with our children. We share our values and beliefs. That's super important. One of the ways we see if those conversations are sinking in or not is when we witness what our kids think is normal. How do they respond when exposed to something in real life that you've tried to normalize at home? 

I was just sitting at the table with the kids scarfing pizza and working on my Harry Potter puzzle. Macy casually mentioned that her friend one year older is gay. My heart leapt but I tried to keep a poker face. I asked some questions about how her friend told her and how Macy responded. It was clear that Macy thought this was a totally normal thing. Then we started talking about all the people in our lives who are in the LGBTQ community. We talked about the married couples at church and the friend who identifies as queer. We talked about how numerically it's more common to be straight but that it's totally normal to be gay. And it wasn't me preaching at a skeptical kid. It was her being like, "duh Mom."

I had to jump on here and capture this feeling. I am elated. "Duh Mom" was not a given in this area based on my conservative upbringing. One of my goals as a parent is to normalize things that are in fact, normal. When we act like normal things aren't normal, we target normal people and cause harm. It is normal to be gay. It is normal to be straight. These are both well within a normal spectrum of human sexuality. I don't say that to minimize the very real struggle the LGBTQ community has and continues to face. Absolutely not. But would that resistance and pain be there if we did, in fact, just stop acting like it's abnormal? Because it's not. Science.

I took Macy to see Fiddler on the Roof last week. In the midst of "the mamas" and "the papas" I started to fret. Ugh. Tradition! Of course, if you've seen the show, bucking and wrestling with, maintaining and subverting tradition is the whole point. It's not about saying all traditions are great and we should just stick with it. But the struggle is real and it is damn hard to challenge tradition. And some things still couldn't abide for dear Tevye. That's human. Seeing the show was another opportunity to see what was or wasn't sinking in with Macy in regards to feminism. When all the singing about gender based roles started, Macy leaned over and said "this is weird." I snickered delightedly. Later when the daughter who married outside the faith was ostracized from the family, she said "this is awful." In the end, the part that bothered her the most was that it didn't end happily. 

Boy, did we have a lot to talk about on the way home!

I think before I had kids, I thought parenting lay in the conversations on the way home. The pausing of the TV to discuss sexist tropes. The natural consequences for reckless or dangerous choices. And parenting lies there. No doubt. But parenting is not just about what you invest in, it's also about what comes back out. Ultimately, she will make her own choices and that won't fully be about my parenting. Even if her choices are incredible and amazing. That will be her. Who she becomes and what she does with what I teach her will be about what she wants to do and who she wants to be. And that's cool. But my piece of this parenting at age 10 includes what we consider normal as a family. And I hadn't quite put my finger on that until I saw it coming back out. This is her base reality. And I'm really excited that her base reality includes thinking being gay is normal and fathers rejecting daughters based on their choice of spouse is inexcusable. Yes!

Your Kid Is Perfect. It's Okay That Your Kid Isn't Perfect.

The other day, it was hard to be my child's mother. Sometimes your child is going through things you can't really grasp. That alone is a source of pain and discomfort for me. Love means intimate knowledge in my world, so loving my children deeply and not having a firm grasp on something going on with them is scary and makes me feel insecure in my ability to mother them well. Adding in how an episode, regression, tantrum, or altercation affects a child, their environment and adults involved creates a potentially humiliating element as well. Shame is on the table. Embarrassment comes knocking. And on a hard day, it can be tough to contain those adult dynamics within yourself so they don't spill onto your child, who is already grappling with something very challenging.

On my hard day, in the midst of everything coming to a standstill, I wrote some affirmations for myself on my phone. It was all I could reach with a little person completely covering my torso. I wrote and wrote. I needed to affirm my experience, my process, my feelings in the moment. That is part of the skill set needed to not shame your child when you are toying with opening the door to the shame and pain knocking so loudly in your heart.

I decided to share those affirmations with you. I know so many people who have struggled with their children. I've written in the past about having my child assessed and being afraid of the results. That process is revisiting us right now and I want other parents to know that you are not alone. If you find yourself in a "moment" maybe a few of these will resonate with you while all the things begin running through your mind. Here's what I wrote to combat anything in my heart that wanted to come tumbling down:

It's okay to take a break.

It's okay to be upset.

You have nothing to be embarrassed about.

It's okay to be embarrassed.

Your kid is perfect.

It's okay that your kid isn't perfect.

It's okay to resent how hard it is to be your kid's parent today.

It's okay to be jealous of parents whose kid isn't hard to parent today (resist the temptation to believe that some parents have an easy day every day. It might look like it right now but that's not real. That's Instagram talking).

It's okay to stop what you were doing and comfort yourself and your child. For as long as you both need.

It's okay to resent that the trajectory of your day just changed without your consent and without any warning.

It's okay to be exhausted.

It's okay to be sad for your child. 

It's okay to be sad for yourself.

It's okay to be sad for the people who are confused, afraid or inconvenienced because of an interaction with your child.

It's okay to want to tell those people to go fuck themselves.

It's okay to want other people to "fix" your child (they can't and no one can but it's a human response to atypical behavior).

There are always more resources to support your child (not necessarily within yourself but that you can access when you have the energy to look). 

Your child is trying.

You are trying.

Your child's other parent is trying (even if they handle your child differently than you do).

Your child's teacher is trying.

Your loved ones are trying.

Sometimes trying does not solve problems.

Trying looks different for everyone and sometimes people's best is not even close to what your child needs. That's okay.

It's okay to go back to the drawing board in how you approach your child and their behaviors/abilities.

It's okay for them to regress.

It's okay for you to regress in patience, tolerance and energy.

It's okay to have no knowledge of what triggers a regression.

It's okay to want to be able to explain their behavior.

It's okay that sometimes there's no explanation for their behavior no matter how hard you try to connect the dots. This means sometimes the room will turn towards you to "solve" something and you will have to shrug.

It's okay to be angry at your child.

It's okay if you don't know what to do.

It's okay that not knowing what to do is the worst way for you to feel as a parent.

It's okay to not know what the future looks like for you or for your child.

It's okay for that fact to be very unsettling for you. 

This is not your fault.

This is not your child's fault.

This might be society's fault but you'll deal with that later.

Friends, you are loved. You are not alone. And neither is your child. Lean towards the pain and allow yourself to feel what you're feeling. But guide that process with these truths and any other words that may apply to your specific situation. You matter. Your child matters. And ultimately, whether the answers are found or the struggle is contained or not, love yourself, love your child and be at peace. Because your child is perfect and it's okay that your child isn't perfect. Just like you and me. Wherever they land on the bell curve, they're really no different from us, are they? Sometimes people just don't know what to do with them. So be it.

Not All Wandering is Fun

I haven't written in awhile. There are a few reasons, I think. Writing is a way for me to process my feelings, honor them and give them a mic. It's part of my self-care. I've been kind of down lately and I think sometimes when you need it most, self-care becomes a chore. It takes a certain amount of energy to even do the things that give you energy, you know? I think this is what life feels like for depressed people all the time. And I have to tell you, just in case you didn't know, it fucking sucks.

But eventually, I always find myself writing, thank God. I think putting myself out there in writing or in my business or even socially requires a base level of self-esteem and I don't often dip below that mark. I've been lucky that way. I'm very social and confident and I enjoy lots of personality types. However, lately, I've danced above and below it that base level of self-esteem. And it's funny to put yourself out there when you're not in a great place because I feel like our culture is all about the shiny and pretty and struggle just isn't those things. Yet, here I am.

I'm trying to figure out what my life should be about as my kids are no longer needing me as their foundation. Penny starts kindergarten in the fall and it's going to be awesome for everyone. We're ready and she's going to shine and I'm happy for her. On my side of things though, I've always told myself that when my youngest starts full-time school, it would be a season for me to focus more on myself, my personal development, my time to contribute to the world in a bigger way. I think being a full-time parent and part-time business operator has been a contribution to my children, my small family and to the greater community in so many ways. But now I'm ready to move out from behind that and venture out into the world a little more as an individual. It's funny because I've always prided myself on not over-identifying as a mother, which is such an easy trap. When you are everything to someone, you can get lost and start to think that's all you are. I really didn't want to do that to myself or my kids. And at the same time, I've been home with a little person for TEN YEARS. For only having two kiddos, that's a really long time (they're five years apart). And I'm starting to realize that the "what's next?" question is proving a little more frightening than I have expected it to be all these years.

So there's a possible whole-family transition on the horizon (especially if I decide to work full-time in a job) and the task of processing the end of a very long and sentimental phase of life in raising children. There's also the daunting reality that I have so many things I'm interested in doing. I made a list of all the environments I like, types of systems I could work within (schools, hospitals, universities, non-profits), jobs that would be cool and they all have things that intrigue me. Some of those things would require more schooling. All of them would require some intimidating re-working of my stone-cold resume. Also, I've had the immense privilege of having total control of my time for ten years (well, as much control as you can have with a little person attached to your leg). The compromises required to work with or for someone else is a piece of liberty I find challenging to potentially relinquish. But I find myself wanting a bit more structure and collaboration in my work life and being fully self-employed (I'll always do Shaklee so that will always be in play, thankfully) means that I am totally self-propelled and that's gotten a little isolating this year. 

And then there's my perfectionism...I don't want to make any compromises (being there to drop off and pick up my kids, being around in the summer, not working when my kids are off, etc) with my time. I want to know in advance it's going to be awesome, fulfilling and worth the sacrifice of my time and freedom. I want to make a real contribution to society so participating in certain systems that tend to cripple that makes me hesitant. I want to make good money, hopefully making the loss of some control worth it to me and to my family. I want to be challenged but able to do my work and I want my work to make a real difference. I want to prevent more pain to the people in the world. There's something gorgeous about treating current pain but I want to prevent new pain from occurring. When I was younger, I wanted to save the world for Jesus. Now I just want to save the world from ourselves. But there's a certain level of realism in me that wonders if that can ever really be. And if that can't ever really be, why go through all the scary shit to try? Hence, I've been in a bit of a dark cave lately.

It's too late for me to go to school in the fall. I can't make a ton of new money or I'll lose the awesome scholarship we were granted for Penny to do Montessori kindergarten next year (so stinking cool). But I don't want a lost year either. I want to keep writing. I want to figure out what's next. And I don't want to just do something or just take something to make this processing stop. I've got about 30 more years to work and I want to make them count. I want to be smart and strategic. But I also want to be realistic. And to be honest, I've always felt like I'm on the outside looking in at the world of people who just know how to navigate the world and all it's mysterious (to me) systems. I probably need some sort of career coach. Ugh. 

Motherhood Anniversary

My firstborn turned TEN today. I have been a mother for TEN YEARS. And because my kids are 5 years apart, even though I only have 2 kids, I have been the mother of a child under 5 for almost 10 years. So weird. 

I actually pulled out Macy's baby books today and teared up a little! I feel like I barely remember that baby. Dude, how am I going to feel when I'm actually old?!?! As much time as I spend on processing my traumas from the past, I don't live in a space of "the good 'ole days." I try to maintain a healthy appreciation for the past, while not overselling it like it was perfect. I know it wasn't. It was hard then and it's hard now and it'll be hard in the future. The same can be said for all those seasons being awesome in some way too. We never really arrive. We just have to make the most of each season. 

I think of life more in the framework of seasons and the season of being a working-at-home mom of a little person will come to and end this fall. Crazy, since as I just shouted from the rooftops, I'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR TEN YEARS! It'll be interesting to see myself transition out of this phase. It has been meaningful, hard, sometimes tedious, slow, sweet, precious and exhausting. I am so grateful to have had the privilege of flexible time all these years. It's a true gift and I try not to take it lightly. I know it's a big deal and as all the guilt-trippers tell you, "you'll never get that time back!" I know, I know.

I intend to continue to work my Shaklee business and maybe take on new things as well. I'm excited about a season of personal development on a different level than mothering littles ones has provided. This time has provided tons of opportunities for growth yet I know with kids at school all day, new things will emerge for me coming soon. I'm curious about what is to come. 

I know what has been has been beautiful. So many laughs and tears and growth. It's amazing how a little human comes out of your body and if you just keep feeding them, they go from tiny baby to full-on kid. I've learned a lot being a mom for 10 years. Most of all, I've learned that I'm vulnerable as hell because of it and I have to give myself and my children grace and support in that reality. I have to say, being Macy and Penny's mom has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. And I can't believe I've been living that gift for 10 years today. 

Happy birthday, my love.

It Takes a Village

Sometimes parenting forces you to make adult decisions in spite of yourself. I think people view me as confrontational because I express myself publicly and I advocate for others boldly. But I don't know if people realize how difficult and draining interpersonal conflict is for me. I think I have empath-like qualities, requiring me to do a lot of work around how I am perceived and having healthy boundaries when people don't like me or don't understand me. But that work is painful and is actual work, as in, it isn't super comfortable or natural for me. It pushes me. I'm okay with that because I want to grow as a person and I don't want to be ruled by my weaknesses so I often face that work head on, but it is definitely work. 

I have also found that it is much easier for me to advocate for the needs of others than for my own. I think that's both because I am a care-taker, thereby elevating the needs of others above my own and being uncomfortable with having needs, and because advocacy is inevitably more personal and tense when it's about yourself. I've recently realized that my kids fall into the same category as myself, meaning, I struggle to advocate for my kids more than I do for a stranger. I want to minimize their needs like I want to minimize my own because I think that's how I will receive love and acceptance. Moms who make a stink get a reputation (and I recently had a real up-in-my-face, weeks long experience with this that was very, very painful). But it is a shameful, embarrassing thing to admit, that I am not naturally the confrontational, bad ass I am sometimes perceived to be on behalf of my children. Like, everyone knows good moms tear shit up if their kids get hurt. I tend to prefer to walk away with my tail between my legs than to throw punches in these situations. 

So I see my inclination and my natural response but I will not stay there. Because it sucks. And it's not good for my kids. And it doesn't break the care-taking cycle. And, I've recently realized, it's not what's best for society either. If another kid harms my kid and their parent isn't made aware, the parent cannot address it. So even if I can help my kid unpack their experience, my staying silent to avoid an awkward conversation with a parent I may or may not be in relationship with robs that other parent the opportunity to parent their own child in the situation. And that is important. In our #metoo world, I have to wonder, were adult violators not parented in this area? Did their parents think they'd done right by their kid but were not made aware of incidents that may have occurred between them and other children when they were young? It's possible. So even if my kid is okay, is the other kid okay? I don't know if I don't speak up and their parent won't know either.

Adulting is hard. Parenting forces you to deal with your shit. And so, I am writing this to affirm to myself: I did the right thing today. I pushed through my discomfort and advocated for my kid and for another kid. And the parent I confronted was a beautiful, open-minded, lovely person. I am so thankful for that. But even if they had been terrible, it still would have been the right thing to do. I only get to choose my behavior and I feel good about it today. Healthy conflict for the win. Now I gotta replenish my emotional energy by eating a lot of Christmas cookies. See ya!

Why I Write

There are a few main reasons why I write. It is both personal and communal. The personal part is that writing helps me give words to my experiences, feelings and thoughts. Words are the tools I use to process those things and to engage in the world. There is a life-long love affair being conducted between me and words. It's probably one of the reasons I talk so much! The communal part is that I recognize that not everyone has the words for their experiences but when they read someone else's words, their heart recognizes a friend. And I think that is so incredibly important. Seeing yourself in another person's experience gives you a sense of not being alone and sometimes it helps you feel like you're not crazy, which is something we often tell women when their feelings are big. Sometimes how someone responds to a situation is different than how you tend to respond and that's fascinating and maybe even helpful. The human experience of being isolated is so incredibly damaging to who we are. So, in my vulnerability, if I'm able to give words to another mother, another child, another whomever, I am willing to do that because I think this work deeply matters. Stories are life. And life is best when shared.

I recently shared an old story (if you can call three months ago old) that got a lot of response. I like response! It's kind of a writers nightmare to have no one respond to your work. It makes you feel like maybe your experiences aren't shared and that's sad. Some responses are hard to process, especially because they may hit on things that hadn't occurred to me or make me feel misunderstood or hurt. That's part of this process too. And that's okay. But it doesn't mean it isn't hard. It's really hard for me. And that bad ass in me who puts words to feelings is not always present when words are presented back to me directly. I need to be honest about that. I don't write because I can take a lot of hits. I write in spite of the hits that will come.

If there was any kind of "agenda" (does anyone else hate that word?) in my latest post, it was based in this place. This place that wants to give words and honor experience. This place that wants kids to be safe and adults to be careful with them. I think that's a good place to write from, even when anger pours out of it. Anger can be really, really good and that's something I need to continually affirm as anger was not acceptable for me to display as a child and it's still not okay for me to display as a woman, at least not without suspicion of some kind of intended harm. There was no harmful intent here.

It's funny because after the last writing-related blow up, my husband teased me about being a "pot stirrer." And we laughed, mainly because I stir a lot of pots with a lot of discomfort. I stir pots when I find opportunities to advocate for things more important than my discomfort. And that is true here. I wrote in hopes that other parents would have words for those moments when your heart gives pause and you don't know why. I wrote to inspire conversation with children, to empower others to allow their kids to have a say in what's taught to them and to make space for their process. I wrote to engage on a parenting front. This was a conversation I had between me and my daughter that I chose to make public. Fallout with other adults, teachers, church leaders was not even on my radar and frankly, such a lesser concern to me than what my post was about. I would like to point out that I was intentional about not being specific about who was involved or where we received this teaching. I learned that lesson and it was painful! If it was revealed in response who was part of this, that was not my doing. And I could care-take that I should have anticipated that as a possibility but I'm going to release that. I didn't reveal those things. It's not that I don't care how adults view my writing or my approach to my situation from VBS but it's that it entirely misses the point of my post. Adult feelings take a back seat to how we plant seeds in children's hearts about themselves and about God. That's why I didn't process my feelings about my kid with my kid. I processed my kids feelings with my kid and my feelings with other adults. And I did that when this happened. 

I do want to clarify something that doesn't seem to have been clear in my original post.

I HAVE NO PERSONAL PROBLEM WITH THE TEACHER IN THIS SITUATION.

I have no relationship with this person. I do not know her. And if anything, I'VE BEEN HER. You guys realize that I taught things like this, right?!?! Mostly to teens, which was at least slightly more developmentally appropriate but still regretful (there is a future post here for sure), but I have been this person time and time again. And my heart twinged but I read the script (she followed the curriculum, which was why I was angry about the curriculum, not the person following it). And I did it with good intent. And I did it because I did what I was told. And I did it because I believed it. I meant what I told my daughter that morning. I told her we could extend her teacher grace and for once, thank God, I wasn't just trying to do the right thing and be a good example to my kid. I was actually able to do the right thing in that moment. I knew then as I know now that I was being triggered by a whole lot of baggage, decades of baggage, that had absolutely nothing to do with her as a person. So writing this story three months later came with absolutely no negative feelings towards her. And if for some reason, this stranger has come upon my writing (that could only really happen if someone deliberately shared it with her), I want to say - we're cool. I have no beef with you. And if my pain hurt you, that was not my intent. 

I do want us to be careful with our curriculum selection. That was the only "to do" I was hoping to see in response. That's all :)

I also learned something about myself before things got really stressful in the response. I learned that I have allowed my perfectionism into the space of my theology and how I teach theology to my children. My anger came from a visceral response to anyone violating that sacred space. And that comes from a deep protectiveness that was not honored in my soul or in my husband's soul when he was fired. And having that first seed of dishonor planted in my child triggered me in a real way. This is trauma, friends. I was hurt. My husband was hurt. So anything that looks remotely like that trauma placed upon my innocent child brought out the mama bear claws. And honestly, I'm okay with that. I can validate those feelings with or without the understanding of my peers. Because trauma is a tapestry. When you pull at that thread, which I've been doing for six years, sometimes things unravel. That's how we get to the root of the problem. That's the personal side. The church of Christ side is that we've created a dynamic where we do what we're told, especially women, and we honestly believe it's okay to teach young children about sin. We think that's important. I don't. And that's not mine to hold. I get to decide what to do with my experience. It might look like not participating in VBS. That seems like a tidy, obvious answer. Except my kid might conclude that she's missing out on something she enjoys with her friends because she opened up to her mom. Right? I'm going to tread lightly in what this looks like for me in the future. And that's okay. Because it's October. I don't have to know what I'm going "to do" in this moment. Is it possible that there is nothing to do? Just to hold pain and acknowledge it? For me, yes. Sometimes that's more than enough to do for the day. So that's where I'll be today. Home. Holding my pain. And giving it the validation it needs. Hugs to you, friends. Whether you get it or not, pain is universal. 

When VBS Theology Hurts Children

I've been meaning to write this post for awhile. VBS happens in the summer, y'all! So here's what happened: I sent my kids to VBS. I was a little nervous about the theology that would be planted in their hearts but I was reassured by several people that VBS theology is usually pretty tame in the churches of Christ (yes, I sent them there). Usually the "fire and brimstone" stuff isn't emphasized. It's not really our way. We like our salvation process to be well thought out and not particularly emotional. Unless we're at camp. Then all bets are off.

However, here's the snag. The "VBS in a box" kit was purchased from some mainstream evangelical source, not the churches of Christ. The flashy, cool stuff never comes from us. And this was really flashy and cool and my children had a great time. They still talk about it. And it's like this every year, which is why I send them back (plus, let's be honest: free childcare in the summer is like panning for gold...you will search and search for a tiny sliver of it so your kids survive the summer with frazzled mom). 

And so, in the middle of the freebies that came home every day and the stories of the games and food, I had a 9 year old with a heavy heart by the end of the week. It was incredibly fortuitous that she and I both woke up at least an hour early on the same day for "no reason" after that week was over. And because mom got a break, she used that time to hold her child and have a heart-to-heart. Macy's not a sharer so this was rare and I'm so grateful it played out this way. Because otherwise,

I WOULD HAVE NEVER KNOWN THIS TOTAL BULLSHIT WAS TAUGHT TO MY CHILD AT A FORMATIVE AGE.

So she asked me, "Does it break God's heart every time I make a mistake (this is a question from one perfectionist to another, if you can imagine the tenderness being exposed here)?" 

"No darling, God expects everyone to make mistakes. It's part of being human and he made us human on purpose."

"But at VBS, we all had to write down our "sins" and then we had to write them on a cross and the teacher showed everybody. And I didn't know anyone else was going to see it and my handwriting is really big."

"That must have made you feel really exposed that she didn't ask your consent and didn't make it clear to you that others were going to see what you wrote."

"Yes that was really embarrassing (enter disparaging remarks about teacher). Then when she held up all our "sins", she took a heart and broke it in half and that was supposed to represent God's heart every time we make a mistake."

[Enter "dear God, help me not scream or cry right now" into my frantic brain.]

"Here's the thing, babe. Some people really believe that. Some people believe that God requires us to be perfect and that because we can't be perfect, that's what makes us need God. And that's why Jesus died."

"But Mom, does he even like me at all?"

"Yes darling. He thinks you're amazing. And he would never make you feel terrible for not being able to be perfect. In fact, I've found him to be much more kind to me in my perfectionist brain than I am to myself. And that's why I reject this theology. Beliefs are a choice. Do you think that if you conclude after hearing a belief that God does not even like you, does that sound like good news? 

"No, this is not good news." 

"Then it's not Jesus. Your teacher believes this and we can extend grace to her, though I know you're angry. And it's sad that this is the framework she's living in. But you get to decide what you hold and what you let go of. This sounds like something that isn't serving you, as it didn't serve me. You get to choose if you agree with your teacher."

"I don't think she likes me. She didn't like it when I asked questions."

"Yes, often in this kind of framework, there isn't room for questions."

"If I can't ever be perfect. Why even try?" [Because in this framework, the other option is eternal damnation.] Tears trickle down her face.

"Ah, you've hit my other rubric for if something is from God."

"What?"

"So one is, is this good news? Two is, does this give me hope? So the question is, seeing God's heart break because you can't always behave a certain way and you're the reason he died and you'll never be able to get it right...did that theology give you hope?"

"No."

"There you go. At the end of the day, you may decide to agree with your teacher. That's your choice to make because beliefs are a choice. You may agree with me that this is totally untrue. Just so you can hear another viewpoint, I believe that God made us human on purpose, that he delights in us and that there is no condemnation for those who love him (or for anyone, frankly). I believe that Jesus paid the debt of sin for all humanity once and for all. I believe we are safe and good and loved. Yes, of course, we should take responsibility when we hurt other people, even on accident. But that comes from a place of love for self and others, not from fear of punishment or shame. I believe that the message of Jesus is good news for everyone, not just for people who behave a certain way or who look a certain way. It's for everyone. And I believe that he is the author of hope. He's got this all figured out. And we're okay. We don't need to fix the world or save anyone. We just need to try to be decent people and love him and others. But ultimately, you get to decide what you believe. And as you grow up, you'll hear a lot of what other people believe. But you get to filter it through your experiences and ideas to see what you want to hold and what you want to release. You may grow up to believe very differently from me. And that's okay. That's what Grandpa calls "working out your faith." That's one of my favorite things about faith - it's yours to hold and shape."

"So I can just let this go if it makes me feel bad about myself and God?"

"Yup."

"Okay." Hugs. Back up to bed.

Deep breaths. What if we hadn't both woken up early? This kiddo doesn't talk to me about her experiences and feelings, but this time she did. And it really mattered. And I'm so grateful. I don't know if this will be enough to pluck out that seed planted in her heart and I'm feeling guilt for exposing her to this. And she wants to go back next summer because everything else was great. Ugh. At least I've got a whole year to figure out how to find a fun VBS that doesn't poison my child's self-worth and view of how God sees her. 

You guys, if after a lesson a child at a formative age comes away with 2 questions: Does God even like me? And why even try to be good? THIS IS A RED FLAG. I don't care how flashy the stage is, how fun the crafts are, CHECK YOUR THEOLOGY. THIS IS NOT OKAY. Sometimes, we get a chance to parent ourselves while parenting our children. This raw, innocent early experience with religious shame and loss of hope put me back in touch with my own innocence. I responded with fervent intent to be perfect. Macy already knows that's a bust. Thank God for books for children about perfectionism. But then her reaction was a total loss of hope. It makes sense to me. 

The more I've sifted through my theology, the more I've come to focus on the fruit of belief. It's not just about what is true and holding onto it. It's about how we are affected when we embrace a certain truth. Does this belief make me more compassionate towards others? Does this belief make me judge others? Does this give me hope? Does this help me understand others and have empathy? Does this belief make me feel affirmed in myself or like shit about things I cannot change (holla LGBTQI!)? This matters. This matters even more to me than the core beliefs themselves and ideas of absolute truth. And that's why I think there should be diversity of belief in community. Some people can hold certain beliefs and be engaged and loving in the world and others curl up in the closet and die. We gotta figure out what beliefs serve us and our mission in the world to be kind, to give grace, to make peace. And that is the polar opposite of how I was raised - that there is one truth, one interpretation of it and you're in or you're out. It's that framework that makes it okay to form children in this way because the alternative is hell. Any kind of shaming, stripping of humanity or judgement is better than eternal damnation, right? This is how we justify excommunication. This is how we can revoke rights for "others" because it's "loving" to tell them "the truth" so they can "come to God." If we make their lives fair, they'll have no reason to come crawling to God for mercy, right? This shit is toxic and it starts YOUNG.

This is the shit I've taken 6 years to unpack in myself and I'll be damned if I stand by and watch someone else do it to my kid. How dare we do this to children. Shame on us. This shit stops now.

We're All Growing Up!

Today is Penny's first day of her second year of preschool. She goes to Montessori school, which typically goes three years with the final year counting as kindergarten. But at this point, we're expecting to send her to public school next year since it's free!!!! So, we're right in the middle of her preschool experience. It has been wonderful and an important transition. Penny and I were particularly attached in her early years because we had trauma occur in the family around her birth as well as she had some developmental stuff going on. So it was a really big deal a year ago for her to start school and begin the separation process for both of us. She went two days a week last year and this year, it's every single day! Just the morning, but still. Big deal. What's fun is she's totally ready and I actually feel totally ready as well. I'll miss the kids while they're in school but I've been a working-at-home mom for 9 and a half years.  I've always thought and even stated aloud that once my youngest starts full-time school, it's my time! My time to shine, my time to invest in myself, my time to lean into my career, etc. Even though she's only in part-time school, going every morning is jump-starting this process of independence for both of us. 

It can be difficult to straddle the line of being home and earning an income. There have been phases of family life where I was too overwhelmed to work my business at all (yet I've been paid EVERY MONTH for the 12 years I've had my business!) and phases where I wished my kiddos would give me some space because I genuinely wanted to work in a more focused, efficient way. I was reminded this morning at drop off that I have always been in full control of this process and that is really a privilege. There were lots of parents talking about juggling full-time work with preschool drop offs, classroom expectations, making dinner, extra-curriculars, etc. It was just this beautiful moment of sympathy and gratitude for me. I totally respect the process that working parents go through and recognize the value working parents bring to society. And I respect parents who don't bring in an income as well, focusing full-time on their family. I've always been in the privileged middle position where I can and do work as much or as little as I want, giving us the extra money we need to do things like Montessori school and theater classes and family vacations while still being able to be my kids primary caregiver. I get to work around their activities and provide that stability to the family unit. And my income has grown in a way where I'm a full partner in our finances and planning. This truly isn't a side income even though I'm working side hours. What a huge gift! 

I'm so thrilled for Penny that she's growing in community and independence. It's developmentally appropriate and good for her. And I'm happy for myself to be in the midst of this transition in my parenting and work balance. I could not be more grateful that I've had the choice to pace us in this process as I've seen fit without suffering financially or personally in my professional development. If anyone reading this is looking for the kind of privilege I've been given in my business, part of my job is to share it and train others to do it. I'd love to give you an opportunity to live this kind of freedom and privilege if you determine it's right for you and your family. This could certainly be a lucrative side hustle but it's also a real career opportunity to grow as a person and to grow a residual income source that you own and can pass on to your kids. Give me a shout if you want me to run through it with you! You can contact me in the "work with me" section of my website or if we're Facebook friends, feel free to PM me. 

Parenting Epiphany

I'm having a bit of a Shaklee Mom moment this week. I was able to attend Macy's walking field trip Wednesday where we walked half a mile to a creek and released the salmon her class has been raising since they were fish eggs. While I was there, I noticed that so many of the children had hacking coughs and were sneezing in a persistent way. Now, it is allergy season in the Northwest, so I know many of these children were not sick with a virus, but mainly reacting to our incredibly green, allergen-potent environment. 

The child whose desk faces my child's was coughing a deep, dry cough, the kind of cough that you know must keep him up at night. I joked with him about calling hospice because it was so bad. I feel like even talking about this makes me seem really judgmental as a parent. Like, get it together, or something. That's not what I was feeling. I was feeling grateful. I'm so, so grateful that I literally get paid on the consumption of my family's Shaklee habit, that my business is large enough that our product usage (almost $500/month!) is completely covered by my commission (many other habits we have are covered by Shaklee, including my impending financial dental apocalypse). 

Watching that poor child cough directly into my child's airspace, knowing that my child cannot be trusted in areas of hygiene, I realized MACY HAS NOT MISSED ANY SCHOOL THIS YEAR DUE TO ILLNESS. Not. One. Day. The evidence was right in front of me that her wellness this year has not been due to a lack of exposure. So not only had my business provided me the flexibility to attend this gorgeous, fun field trip, but it allowed my child to enjoy it to her fullest because she's healthy. Holy cow.

At the risk of using my blog that's more often than not about theology and life to promote my personal business, I thought it would be helpful to share what it is that Macy takes every day in case there are parents out there who are finishing this school year realizing that their kid may have missed more school than is ideal. I want kids to be healthy and happy. And I want parents to feel empowered to help their children. I was raised on these products and am raising my kids on these products. I can't begin to explain the monstrous dividends our family has reaped because of generational wellness, 4 generations now, starting with my grandparents on both sides. I want people to have that. Or at least have access to it.

Macy takes:

2 Incredivites - this is her multivitamin. It has an ingredient called lactoferrin in it that has been found to contribute to the immune-boosting capability of human breast milk. So it's very immune-building as well as covering all her minimum requirements for A, B, C, D (extra D), iron, some calcium, etc. It's a critical foundation.

1 Mighty Smart - this is Shaklee's fish oil (DHA) chew. My kids beg for more every day. They are delish. Most kids aren't getting fish oil daily and even if they eat fish often, our fish population is so incredibly contaminated that regular consumption actually puts them at risk for high levels of mercury and lead being present in their blood. DHA helps with brain development. We've seen this product help kids with concentration, attention and hyperactivity issues. I cannot overemphasize how critical it is that kids get fish oil and that it be pure. Shaklee purifies the oil in a patented process so there is literally NO contaminants. You can't even get that in our diets anymore.

1 Optiflora probiotic - this is a little pearl. Our probiotic has a patented triple-layer shell to protect the very fragile live bacteria. Most companies can only guarantee that their bacteria is alive at the time of manufacturing. We actually have the clinical data to prove that our good bacteria makes it all the way to the intestines. If you think that's simple, remember, those fragile bacteria have to pass through the stomach acid first! If you think your yogurt is doing that; it's not. If you or your family eat processed foods at all, probiotics are really important. Most of the ability to have a functional immune system begins in the gut. If your gut is off, you can't absorb all the nutrients in your food and your immunity goes down. All 4 of us take this every day.

1 chewable Cal Mag - kids need extra calcium because they're literally growing their bones! Do you remember ever getting shooting pains in your legs as a kid, sometimes called "growing pains?" That's your body's way of asking for more calcium in an annoyingly painful way. We started this product daily as soon as Macy started getting those (just as I did when I got them as a kid). If her legs hurt, 20 min after chewing this, the cramps are gone. Also, if she ever gets stomach cramps, same thing. I looked at the label of our chewable Pepto Bismol and guess what? It's just synthetic calcium! So I tossed that and keep this on hand.

1-3 chewable C's - both my kids take 1 every day and we increase it if we know they've been exposed to an illness or are actively showing symptoms.

As a side note, Penny started preschool this year. And she was symptomatic at least 10 times during the school year. But, she only missed one day of school. And I kept her home as a precaution (her fever was below the threshold for keeping them home). On top of her regular regimen (same as Macy's without the added calcium), any time she got a fever, runny nose, etc I made her a half serving of Shaklee's Vitalized Immunity. It's like Emergen-C but it's not synthetic. I just thinned it out with extra water, added some ice and Stevia drops and told her it was her special juice. I think out of those 10 incidents, only 1 of those 10 turned into an actual cold. 9 out of 10, 1 or 2 half servings of Vitalized Immunity nipped that virus in the bud. So thankful she got to go to school regularly so she could have the routine that is so critical for her education and her sense of well-being.

Sorry, one more side note. We only use Shaklee cleaners and personal care products in our house. If your kids are struggling with immunity and you're using Clorox and Tide (no offense to the big guys), that is also costing them nutrients and could be making it harder for them to fight stuff off. Start with laundry and dish soap. You are literally putting those chemicals in your mouth and rubbing them on your skin all day. Shaklee has a Get Clean Starter Kit where you can change out all your cleaners for $99. It's the equivalent of $3400 worth of traditional cleaners and it comes with a lifetime Shaklee membership for free. That gives you 15% off your products for life.

This is one of the parenting mountains I plan to die on. Everyone has their things that are non-negotiable. For me, giving my children a foundation of a healthy, strong, active body is one of mine. The #1 killer of kids in this country ages 3-14 is cancer. The influence I can have on the longevity and functionality of my children's bodies is unparalleled from pregnancy to 18 years old. Some peoples mountains are safety, education, sports, faith - to name a few. And most of those are important to us too. But this is a non-negotiable one for me. What's fun about this one is, it takes a bit of investigating in the beginning to find the company you trust to the tedious raw ingredient to final product testing to make sure your products actually work. And you have to incorporate that expenditure into your monthly budget. But once that's done, you just set up your order and make sure your kids take them every day. Done and done! Mountain climbed. 

If you want to see any of these products or have questions about them, contact me through my Shaklee website: www.ownyourlife.myshaklee.com