You are already the expert

The last post was written with the intent to explain that you are often doing the thing that the books tell you to, even if you don’t read the book.  For example, much of the touching we do at our house, including the imagination crayon stuff is akin to “brushing.”  Don’t know what that is? You probably don’t need to. .

We are often in tune with our children in a way that we don’t give ourselves credit for.  I was asked recently: “What was the best parenting book you read?”  On its face, it seems to be a simple enough question, but the whispered truth is : I’ve never read a single parenting book.  Really.  I haven’t.

I know.  According to the rules of life (or what reactions have been to date): You are supposed to feel shocked. I’m supposed to feel ashamed.   Neither are appropriate.

You see, I might read a book at some point.  But for now, self-reflection has worked.  The time I have free, I spend thinking, reflecting and bringing forward the parent from within.  I believe I have the wisdom of my mother, my grandmother, and all of the women who have done this job before me.  Ok, maybe not all women, but I have certainly taken in a lot of parenting information in the past 33 years.  I just don’t always take the time to sort, reflect and listen to what is already a part of me. 

I am the person I listen to more than anyone else, the person that I turn to when I don’t know what to
do.  I spend a lot of time reflecting on parenting.  I turn inside of myself.  When I question what to do as a parent – who I want to become – I contact my inner self.  The parent within.  

Here is some perspective:  I am a Virgo on the cusp of Leo.  Perfectionist with a hint of ego.  What do I care what someone else thinks about parenting? Huge exaggeration. I care a lot. Brendan and I spend a lot of time talking about what we should do, what our families did.  We hash it out.  It is a partnership. Additionally, I ask friends, ECFE courses, neighborhood families; any opportunity to talk with other parents about what their kid did.  This is often in the same city, same neighborhood, same age-range, etc.  I cherish the opportunity to ask, to listen, and to share with other parents.


My partner and I are raising children.  The same “simple” task people have undertaken for thousands of years. I hold a lot of that wisdom within me.  I can only be the mother I was meant to be.  I cannot live/be/act in a way that makes sense to someone else. When my kid feels “deregulated” we sit, talk, touch; we brush.  When my picky eater won’t eat? We have her help cook.  We break the meal up into ingredients that they can taste “not mixed up.”


I will eat my words someday.  I will read a book, but for now – I challenge you to find your inner parent.  To strengthen, empower, listen to your inner parent.  You carry the wisdom of generations with you daily.  The challenge is to slow down and tune out the world around you so that you can bring that wisdom forward and apply it to today. 

Reach out and hold my hand already

I feel that touch is a fundamental need of most humans. To touch and be touched is divine.  I don't mean this is anyway other than the day to day interactions you have with people. The rest of the touch you may encounter you can leave to another site to describe. But I am talking about the good ol, handshake, pat on the back, holding an arm while you talk.  My mother will be the first to tell you that I want, I NEED a pat on the back and to hear that I did a good job.  A gReAT job.

I fact, when I was living in the desert by myself, studying rattlesnakes and lizards I went a little nutso. There was another scientist there, but for fear of anyone claiming anything inappropriate happening, he didn't even shake my hand. And then he had the nerve to leave for a week.  I was on my own. In the desert.  Alone.  At this point, it had been about 6 weeks since I had touched anything warmblooded and a week since I had talked to anyone.  It is a fun story to hear in person, but to save you the hysterics (snakes, bugs, floods, flat tires, near miss of a cow...)

I will tell you the short version.  I went to church.  I needed so see people.  I wanted to hold someone's hand.  But as a good looking blonde alone in the deserts of Mexico, I needed to be safe.  Church.  I KNEW I would have at least the kiss of peace and maybe even some hand holding during the Our Father.  I was pretty well covered.  And then, the funniest conversation on earth happened.  There were two old guys  behind me.  One black, one white. It was hot in the city, much hotter than the desert. Like 115 kind of heat.

The white guy says to the black guy (in Spanish):"Pretty hot, eh?"
Guy 2: "very hot."
Guy 1: "I've always wanted to ask you, do you get hotter than I do because you are
black?"
Guy 2: "I'm not sure, how hot are you?"
Guy 1: "pretty damn hot."
Guy 2: "me too."

End of conversation.  Somehow settled.  Everyone is hot in 115 degrees.  But I digress.
The good news here? They both kissed my cheeks.  They touched me.  It was great.
It was needed.  I was starving.  Who knew.

How the heck does this relate to parenting? Everything. I'm a toucher.  I hug, kiss, squeeze, sit on the floor, wrestle, pat on the back, hold the hand of the person talking to me.  The girls have all interpreted it in different ways.

One thing that is common is for them all to ask for a "momma imagination story." I thought they were interesting in how I go about telling a story. (I have secret dreams of storytelling these days) I thought they liked that in momma stories, nothing is right or wrong.  Nothing is impossible.  You can be who you want to be and do what you want to do.  Apparently I was overestimating my storytelling skills. You see, these imagination stories were accompanied by me drawing the stories out on their backs with my imagination crayon.

I don't have a strong memory from childhood, but one memory I do remember was me and my big sister, drawing out pictures on each others backs at night time and trying to guess what the illustrator was drawing.  It is a great memory.  Us, just drawing, relaxing, sleeping....  This is what I was sharing with the girls.

Turns out, it is more than just an imagination crayon. They can't tell what I am drawing.  Complex stories of elves, deer, snowman, rainbows, fireworks, basically whatever moves me. I tested recently, and they didn't even know when I drew the first letter of their names on their back.  They are in it for the touch.  They are in it for the skin to skin contact of someone telling a story, focusing just on them.  What's more? It turns out to
be best practice for my two kids with sensory needs.  B likes the fireworks. The rain. The erasing to draw a whole new picture.  A likes the fine details. The sprinkles on the cupcakes, the chains of the swing set, the butterfly that slowly flits across the scene.

As I told a story to de-escalate a meltdown, I realized I was brushing. Not really. Not professionally, but in essence I was using touch and repetitive motion to channel my positive feelings. I was overriding the current programming.  I really feel, I take all of my positive thoughts and send them as energy into my story.  I share my energy with each girl, in turn, through this simple act of drawing pictures on their back.

They love it. We have different names: Imagination crayon, soft tickles, momma tickles, back pictures.  Whatever. The other day, I had a line at pizza Friday. Kids lined up to hear a crazy story and to be touched.

This isn't to downplay the story part of the event.  The girls know the water cycle, seed germination, which animal eats which, not to mention crazy stories about elves, hiking, farm animals and what they eat, rainbows, whatever comes to mind.  The touch keeps them connect to the story in a way that their attention span would never typically allow.

Just last week B said: I wish I could make it snow ice cream.  Just once. My response: "wouldn't that be fun?!? How could we do it?" What followed was a long exchange, starting with we would have to get the rain to be ice cream, then get it cold.  Have no fear, she marched through the process to decide that it would be best to start with liquid ice cream in the lake. Sunshine. Evaporation. Heavy clouds. Cold. ICE CREAM SNOW!!

In this example, I am super proud we have a valid chain of events. Using processes that a 5yo kind of understands. We have a scientific cycle with one small change. Sub liquid ice cream for water and voila. Ice cream snow.  This leap in reality doesn't work for everyone. Someone in the household couldn't sit still.  He had to point out the technicalities of why it wouldn't work. Sure, the water would evaporate, but the fat, sugar, sprinkles would all stay in the lake. Always good for someone to keep our feet on the ground, I guess.

Our girls all enjoy touch in a different way.  Here are examples.

B: preferred to sit in a chair to soothe as a baby.  Tells me now that touch is too inconsistent.  However, she comes to tell me when, where and how she wants me to hug, tickle, and draw.  On her schedule, when it is time, she wants touch and lots of it.  Especially deep pressure.

A: can never get enough touch. She is a huger, snuggler, kisser, and loves tickles.  She can be found sneaking up to my bed after she thinks papa has gone to bed, just to feel the "warmth of mama." She will snuggle under your arm while you are sitting around.  Recently, she has been drawing hearts on our body, and sending "love energy" in through the heart so we can carry it around with us all day.

R: will tell you the where, when, how and how frequently you will tickle or hug her. She has been known to approach, full belly showing to request the contact she needs. She will not miss out on any opportunity to hug another person.  She hugs fiercely and completely.  Nothing better than a hug from our little R.  Just recently, she was quoted saying that she didn't think she had space in her body to fill up on the number of Julia hugs she would need to bring back from France.

And J: The little lady would still like to be nursing. She even poured a glass of milk down Nana's chest - just to try to find someone that still had some milk to give.  I asked her for months if she was done and she always said no. When we sees me, instantly trying to reach, to touch.  She likes to be held, and held tightly. I always joke that she needs to get some time that is all her own.  Sadly, I might not be so far from the truth. But she is pretty rough and tumble, and has to be, given her sisters.  Whenever possible, she strips down for maximum skin to skin snuggling.


Anyway, I'm way off topic here. I think touch and connection are so important. I am often found holding hands with someone who is telling me a story.  Touching someones back as I walk by.  Letting you know that you- yes you- in a real, physical way have my attention.

Our "let's talk this out why the heck did you bite your sister" pose?  Knee to knee.  We don't have to look eye to eye, but we do need to touch, we do need to be facing each other so that the other person knows that we are focusing our body, our energy to them to find a joint solution.

On a side note, we did contribute to a kickstarter that [in our interpretation] was focused around this idea.  Check it out. 

Social Networking

I have this theory. I haven't studied it, but I do live it. It is this thought that you are strengthened as a little person by the robustness and diversity of the people in your life.  I have heard from others about the recommendation for families to shrink when you have a kid.  To pull in, focus on your core nuclear family and really make each interaction meaningful.  In reflection, that seems awesome, but it doesn't work for me.

To let you in on a little secret, know this: I am not the perfect example of a human being.  *shock* I am a darn great example, but not the only way you can take your life, your gifts, yourself and interact with the world.  I sure hope our kids turn out to be like us, and even to like us.  But there is no guarantee of that.

I want the girls to see 100’s of examples of humanity. I want them to interact with, to know, to love a multitude of people.  The more people they meet, the more often the get to have the opportunity to say “WOW! This world is amazing.”  We don’t often celebrate the people who are wonderful in our neighborhood.  We don’t take the time to tell people just how much they mean to us.  In my experience, we don’t create social networks the way we once did. 

Who is your local grocer? What is your librarian’s name? Who can water your plants and pick up your mail while you are out of town?  If your kids are locked out of the house, where can they go? We fear strangers, we avoid neighbors.  That isn't what we are looking for.  The strength of our bond is based on the strength of our community. 

I could make my own movie theater in my house. But there is a perfectly good one just a mile away.  I could build a playground in my own yard.  But I would miss out on the neighborhood ones.  A restaurant quality kitchen.  A library. A pool. An art gallery. For some reason we replicate public spaces in our own homes.  In doing that, we miss the most important part of the experience: the possibility to meet a new person and learn a new life story.  We miss the opportunity to share our lives with others.

In my estimation, children need to learn to trust people. They need to learn that their neighborhood is just that.  THEIR NEIGHBORHOOD.  They need to talk to the butcher, they need to know their librarian.  The girls need to bring May Day baskets to the neighbors, cookies to the fireman, walk to the park with a neighbor.  When they go to a store or studio, they need to talk to the artist, ask questions, make suggestions.   In doing that, they learn what they like, they learn how to do something, they learn why others choose to do what they do. In you living your life near them, they are reassured that they can also be whoever they want to be. 

Obviously, parents cannot be everything to every child.  Maybe the girls want to grow up to be Tai Chi masters, musicians, circus performers, farmers or philosophers.  I’m none of those things – but they exist in my network.  The more you see, the more you know that you get to be YOU, just YOU.  Sure… mom and dad might not get “it” but someone will.  You will have questions that you don’t want to ask mom, Auntie Sarah might know. Think Dad doesn't have time right now? Julien will spare a moment. Growing up, you might be unsure of who you are, or want to test out a new skill, theory or relationship.  What better place to do that than in a network of your 100 closest friends.  

In our family, your number one job is to take care of YOU first.  Sounds simple, but it is amazing how much this practice drives so much of the conversation.  You are the boss of you.  Make good choices, take charge.  Be who you want to be.  Think it is hard to do that? Of course it is.  But look around you, you are supported by a network of people who are doing, being, living and loving who they are.  They are doing it as completely and as honestly as they know how to. 

This spirit of self love and community is reflected in our social network, our family.  Do. Be. Celebrate all that makes you who you are.  And while you are doing that:  Love.  Love yourself. Love your neighbor. Love the earth. Love your community.  

Blank pages yet to be filled.

The most common statement from people when I told them we were taking 4 small (6 and under) children to France was akin to: “I’m going to do that too – but at a time when the children will remember it.”   Or: “What a shame they won’t remember a thing.”

Seriously. If you find yourself preparing to say something similar – Don’t. You are talking to a family who has sacrificed a lot to make this trip happen.  We spent thousands of dollars to take a trip.  To go to France.  To celebrate love, friendship, travel, and endless possibilities.  We don’t need to hear that it might all be for naught.

You also shouldn't reveal your ignorance.  Seriously.  Think about it.  Is your goal of travel to remember all things you learn while on your tour?  No.  Will you remember what was on the menu at each restaurant?  Will you even remember the name of the piece of art you saw at the museum? Unlikely.  

Travel connects you.  It shrinks the world for you. It reminds you that you are one small piece of a large puzzle.  You are needed to complete the whole picture, but there are many other pieces that look a lot like you, just as important as you.  We all live, sleep, eat and giggle. 

More than once, the children were running.  Running in a garden, a field, a lake or a city.  They were playing, swimming, eating, climbing, sliding, chasing, riding, laughing and loving with children.  Sure, there was a small detail of talking that seemed difficult to us adults, but it didn't stop the children for a moment. 

I stopped one of the girls once, after over an hour of straight play.  Both girls talking, hand holding, always together.  One speaks French, the other was speaking in English. I said, naively: “What are you guys talking about.”  I got the large sigh from my 4yo, and she said Mom, we are just playing.  She talks, I talk and we both giggle.  She is a very good giggler. 

No, they may not remember the details of the trip, but they will and do remember the love, the adventure and the understanding that nothing is too difficult.  They clutched those passports, inspired to fill the blank pages. The piggy banks are already being aggressively stuffed for the next long journey. 

Next time, feel free to ask why we chose the location.  Feel free to provide travel tips.  But don’t ask me what they will remember.  Memories held in the heart don’t fade; they inspire the next journey.