Hanging By My Fingernails

When my family was still young and I had only seven children from twelve-years old down to a newborn, I earnestly strove to raise the best children I could. Yet all my effort was actually hindering their development because my anxiety and control acted like a barrier, a prison around my them. I was in fact preventing my children’s inner, natural development into well-balanced, creative people.

I did not take subtle hints, so a powerful inner image rose up from my subconscious which symbolized what I was actually doing by refusing to let go of control.

First I saw an ocean and a tiny black dot in the water. Slowly the image grew larger till I was face to face with a huge octopus.
The scene switched and now 7 tentacles wrapped around each of my children with my husband in the eighth. All of them were grey, limp almost lifeless.

I suddenly realized that I was in fact the octopus; I was in fact squeezing the life out of my family.

In this inner vision, a sword appeared in a blaze of light and severed each tentacle one by one. The severed tentacle shrivelled and fell off each child. As soon as each one was set free, they began dancing and laughing in the sunshine. Soon all seven were joyfully playing.

The eigth tentacle was wrapped tightly around my husband. The kids stopped playing and kneeled on the ground, weeping, desperately pulling and tugging the tentacle but to no avail. Suddenly,in a flash of light, the sword of truth cut through the tentacle, my husband was released and came back to life.

Yet even after this appalling self revelation, I still could not let go of control.

It was as if I stood on the hub of a wagon wheel with my large family balanced on the rim. I crouched on the hub, frantically turning this way and that, grabbing all the broken spokes, desperate to hold the crumbling structure together.

I realized that I had to let go of this futile sense of responsibility and control but I was afraid to stop, afraid that one moment of inattention would cause my entire family to tumble down into the abyss.

I was trapped.

Yet, I realized that once again, my tension, my control acted like a wall, shutting out all life. My sincere concern and earnest self-sacrifice actually magnified everyone’s brokenness by freezing everyone and everything.It took years but I finally surrendered control. Much to my chagrin,the broken spokes of our family were instantly repaired. The kids and my husband started smiling because a huge burden of tension dissipated as if it had never been there in the first place.

Sometimes we just need to “let go” of the things that we worry about (i.e. our children, loved-ones, or family members). When we are able to do that, we (and the people we care about) can then truly experience the freedom of living! Years ago someone told me that,

“The worst sin against another human being besides hate and murder is trying to control and manipulate them because you are stealing their real identity, molding them into a false image.”

Ingenuity And Creativity Are Birthed In Boredom

Relax, bored kids never stay bored for long

Children thrive when they are given ample unscheduled play time. Free time to explore, use their imaginations to amuse

themselves and even time to be bored because boredom is the birth place of creativity and ingenuity.

Surrounded by babies and toddlers, I was not always free to run outside to solve every obstacle my kids faced as they played. At first, I scrambled to help my kids with every problem with a newborn in my arms and perhaps a toddler wrapped around one of my legs. Finally,  I realized that the best way to mother my kids was to stay peaceful, rather than frantically running around attempting to meet everyone's needs at the same time. That meant older kids had to wait for me or try to figure out snags by themselves. Loud shrieks for mum gradually grew less frequent because while waiting for help, my kids often solved their own problems. Impatience is a wonderful motivator.

Six year old Daniel is a prime example. His grade 1 teacher recounted this story to me. It seems that she asked her grade one class this question,
"How would you open the garage door if there were no grown-ups around?"

Everybody just stared blankly at her, except for my six-year-old son. He waved his hand in the air and then excitedly blurted out,
"You just stand on a milk crate, push on the upper left-hand corner of the garage door with a hockey stick and push hard. The door comes up a bit, you jump off the crate and crawl in!!"

Then, Daniel beamed proudly.

You don't have to solve every logistic problem for your kids or give them all the best equipment and toys. Alison was about ten and at our extended family's cottage with a cousin. Every game my daughter suggested, her cousin would point out that they lacked some piece of equipment. After a moment to think, Alison would brightly say,

"Well, we could always use this instead!"

Her aunt and uncle laughed and remarked,

"I wonder whose daughter she is?"

 

Ingenuity and creativity do not spring into motion if parents give everything to their kids even before they know to ask. We could not buy expensive toys for our kids but we did make sure we always had paper, crayons, glue, paint and other craft supplies in the house. I loved watching card board boxes magically transform into cars or doll houses, especially when little people asked older siblings for help them. Then everyone became excited and involved in the project.

Today my adult children are self-starters, self-motivated and they are all creative at work, school and at home. Boredom has its place.

Raising Children is Not a Default Chore

 Raising children is not a default chore for women who were unsuccessful in the world of power and wealth

I am about to tell you something which goes against what your education has taught you to think and do. Since preschool, adults have pushed you to excel, to rise above your peers. My generation has groomed you for success, to get into the best universities and snatch the most prized careers. Well, it is nice to have confidence, to fulfil your dreams and have a sense of satisfaction in your chosen field of work but that will not make you happy.

Just take a look at the generation that has gone before you. The midlife crisis is a testament to the failure of a life focused on career advancement to the exclusion of family. Men and women bemoan the fact that they did not have time for nurturing and loving their spouse or children. All too often family life crumbles to ashes, sacrificed on the altar of success.As for childcare, society relegates it to women who are often treated as second class citizens.

I want to yell out as loudly as I can, “raising children is definitely not a default chore for women who were not successful in the world of business, power and wealth.” Who raises our children is important because exactly how you, the next generation, raise your children will directly influence the kind of society they in turn create.

Do you want to live in a world focused only on the ruthless accumulation of wealth? Will you consciously create a race of humans who are shallow, cold and cynical about relationships, family and love?  Do you want children who are more comfortable texting, you, their parents, than speaking with you face to face in a warm, loving way?

Family is crucial; it is the foundation of society. Now I see my own adult children beginning their young families and it touches my heart to know how much they value family as well.  Just after his daughter’s birth, my son turned to his dad and said,

”Dad, this is the best thing that I have ever done in my life.”

And, a year later, as his little daughter lay sleeping on his chest, my son said, ”Now I know why you and Dad had so many kids.”

Children Help Adults…

Children help you forget what’s not important.

Changing Ingrained Patterns With Humour and Insight

When I tackle myself and try to change by brute force,  all that happens is that I become even more inflexible and unchanged. 

Usually a sense of humour snaps me out of this conundrum.

Positive quotes, especially humourous ones, act like quick shots of cognitive therapy by changing my thoughts

.As cognitive therapy says, thoughts precede emotions; change your thoughts and your emotions change.

Whether you think you can or can't, you're right. - Henry Ford

Once you choose hope, anything’s possible. – Christopher Reeve

We become what we think about. - Earl Nightingale

Just because something doesn't do what you planned it to do doesn't mean it's useless. - Thomas Edison

There was never a genius without a tincture of madness. - Aristotle

If not us, who? If not now, when? – John F. Kennedy

Don’t worry about failures, worry about the chances you miss when you don’t even try. – Jack Canfield

Build your own dreams, or someone else will hire you to build theirs. – Farrah Gray


Certain things catch your eye, but pursue only those that capture the heart. – Ancient Indian Proverb

You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have. – Maya Angelou

I suppose leadership at one time meant muscles; but today it means getting along with people. – Mohandas Gandhi

If you're going through hell, keep going. - Winston Churchill

We're never gonna survive unless we go a little crazy. - Seal

Believe you can and you’re halfway there. – Theodore Roosevelt

To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence. – Mark Twain

Leaders don’t create followers, they create more leaders. – Tom Peters

You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving. – Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson

A loving heart is the beginning of all knowledge. – Thomas Carlyle

The Great Disconnect

Children — especially babies — are  little and vulnerable, vulnerable to the large, often clueless adults who care for them. Put yourself in a baby’s situation. Preverbal for years, it must be frustrating to be tired or in pain, only to have a bottle thrust into your mouth or have a tense, upset mother try to nurse you when your stomach is bloated with burps.

Jie-Wei Zhou

This disconnect does not end once children can communicate. Nope, our adult reasoning simply does not always compute in little brains. Why, I have been told that human beings do not get their adult brain till they are 25 years old! Apparently, the frontal lobe that makes sane, rational decisions is not fully developed till the mid-twenties.

That means for almost a quarter of a century, humans need a special kind of love and nurturing that will not only meet them and connect with them right where they are, but guide them gently without controlling them and stunting their own growth intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually.

The best mothers are willing to learn from their offspring, from books, from experience and from others. Good mothers need a wonderful sense of humour to laugh at their own blunders, to laugh at their kid’s blunders. Openness to trying new tactics helps, as does creativity, but most of all they need to be intuitive, listening to their little ones’ body language and tone of voice and their own gut feelings and instincts.

Our society really does not spend time preparing hapless adults to parent.

The Best Art Comes From a Playful Imagination

The best art cannot be forced or controlled because the imagination thrives and creates in a relaxed attitude of openness, a sense of play not duty. Albert Einstein, one of the most brilliant scientists of the last century, valued imagination over knowledge.For a brainy, intellectual, Einstein had a lot to say about imagination:

” Imagination is every thing. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions”

“Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”

Antaole France adds:

“To know is to nothing at all; to imagine is everything.”

As for me:

Suddenly an idea springs up from my inner self,

initiating a flow of words, assimilated emotions, reflections and connections

that seem to take on a life of their own.

This entire process is joyful and life-giving,

like writing with my fingers, not my brain.

Surviving Mesothelioma: Help Spread the Message About A Rare Cancer

 I am reaching out to hundreds of bloggers by linking to friendship friday today in hopes that a few of you will help spread this message

Heather's Story

Eight years ago, Heather was diagnosed with mesothelioma; a rare cancer caused by exposure to asbestos. She had just given birth to her daughter, Lily, and was only given 15 months to live. After a life saving surgery that included the removal of her left lung, she is thriving more than ever.

Since she is one of only a few survivors, her family has made it their lives mission to spread awareness of mesothelioma: a PREVENTABLE disease that takes so many innocent lives. In honor of the 10th annual Mesothelioma Awareness Day (September 26) she is asking bloggers to help us spread the word by dedicating a blog post to share some eye opening facts and statistics you didn't know about mesothelioma.

Would you be willing to help us spread awareness and eradicate this terrible disease?

If so, please let  Heather know and she can send along more information. It would mean so much to her family.

Heather says:

"Spreading awareness is key to advancement in treatment and hopefully, someday, a cure. There are so many alarming facts and statistics about this disease that I'm hoping each blog post will be unique! I provided some information about my campaign as well as some eye-opening facts about the disease. Please let me know if there's anything else I can help with!"

For more information see www.mesothelioma.com/heather

contact Heather Von St. James at  Lifesabanquet1 AT gmail DOT com :-) She would greatly appreciate it!

For more information see www.mesothelioma.com/heather

contact Heather Von St. James at  Lifesabanquet1 AT gmail DOT com :-) She would greatly appreciate it!

NOT a Haggard, Worn out Bag of Regret

I am a conundrum in the eyes of modern society because I am a joyful mother of nine children. 

This very fact seems to confound most people who expect me to look like a haggard, worn out bag of regret and unfulfilled dreams.

Society in general is baffled to learn that I discovered freedom precisely as a mother.

Now a joyful,  tiny mother of nine simply confuses people because I shatter all their preconceived notions.

 The typical image of a multipara women would be a large, matronly, robust, grim, battle-axe of a mother, efficiently marshaling her young charges with little time to coddle or love the poor, deprived dears.

I delight in confounding stereotypes.

Babies are Tyrants

Gabrielle Zevin has written a hilarious description of babies in her delightful novel, The Storied Life of A.J.

Fikery. A.J. An unrepentant curmudgeon, is literally saved after he adopts a toddler left abandoned in his bookstore.

His first description of babies is unusual but comically apt. Baby Maya is a “terrorist” who makes insane demands and she is completely self-centered making her a terrible conversationalist. She is worse than an untrained puppy. Even more objectionable, she has terrible taste in literature, insisting that he read the same board book over and over. Although he complains loudly, A.J. is hooked by Maya’s first smile and declaration of love. His description seems outrageous but every parent will smile and secretly admit that every word is true.

Babies are loveable tyrants.

We used to joke and tell our infants, ” It is good that you are cute!” because they usurped every other activity, demanding and needing immediate attention. They  do save us from our own narcissism, though, forcing us to grow up and mature.

From the moment a baby locks eyes with a parent and grips their finger, they forge a bond of steel that unleashes a tidal wave of protective love that surprises a new parent. These preverbal little people express their needs with heart-rending screeches of pain, hunger and frustration that can unnerve the most independent adult, forcing us to dig deep to discover hidden resources of strength and patience that we did not even know existed. When those resources have depleted, they nudge us to reach out to others and to God for help. I know my babies saved me from myself, just like Maya saved A.J. Fikery.

Even Pets Can Have Chores

No able-bodied human or animal would live in my house without contributing in some way to our household

Our pet guinea pig pushed his luck one day when I discovered why Guinea pigs are called PIGS. It is because they eat just like real pigs that’s why.

I was losing patience with ours; every time I opened the fridge that little rodent would squeak like crazy, begging for another vegetable.

One day, I marched out into our garden and pulled out an entire stalk of broccoli and stuffed it in the guinea pig’s cage. I stuffed the entire cage with greens, mini broccoli and a thick, fibrous stalk. The wire door didn’t even close completely.

The next morning the entire plant was gone, only a few tough, stringy fibers left. When I opened the fridge door, that guinea pig started squeaking for food once more. I couldn’t believe it; his stomach should have burst open.

Then I made a decision.

No able-bodied human or animal would live in my house without contributing in some way to our household. I decided that this particular animal was going to trim the grass around the house. I gathered the oldest four kids together and explained that we were taking the bottom off the cage and placing it right beside the house where there were no gardens. Every few hours, someone would move the cage.

It was a brilliant idea.

The kids thought it was hilarious that a guinea pig would have a household chore and I was quite pleased to have a little more peace in the kitchen.

However, I forgot to consider that we lived in the country. Foxes, coyotes, wolves and even owls love to snack on rodents. One morning the cage was knocked over and all that was left of this little guinea pig was his gizzard. David was sure that it was no ordinary predator that had attacked our guinea pig. No, it was a big, black bear and he knew that to be a fact because he could see,

“the big, bloody, footprints down the lane!”

Quit trying to dismember me

The school bus was not scheduled to pull up for another twenty minutes. Six-year old Rebecca, my youngest child, needed both hands to yank the old, heavy kitchen door open, desperately attempting a quick escape for some free time before school. 

 As the door squeaked open, I looked up in surprise.

Before I could comment,  Allison , one of  her many older sisters, whipped around from the kitchen counter and remarked

 ”Rebecca, did you try to do your hair again? The part’s crooked. Come over here and I’ll fix it for you.”

As she slumped towards Allison, Claire entered the kitchen at the same time and looked her little sister up and down,

” Mum couldn’t have picked those clothes for you to wear. The top does not match your sweater. You’ll have to change or keep the sweater buttoned up all day.”

As she stood in the middle of our large farm kitchen, fumbling with tricky buttons,  Mary yelled from the bathroom,

“Rebecca, you forgot to brush your teeth again!”

Suddenly Rebecca through her arms up into the air and huffed out in exasperation,

“All right, all right everybody. Quit trying to dismember me!”

Happiness Depends on Perception

Our happiness depends on our perception of the world.

Even on bleak days

there are certain facts that I stand on

I am alive,

healthy

not living on the street

but in a large old, quirky house

with acres of gardens, trees and meadows.

I am still married after almost 35 years

with 9 healthy, successful adult kids and 5 grandkids

loved by my family and God,

even if I drive them crazy with my eccentricity

I have a computer,

two hands with all my fingers to type

and time to write for the first time in three decades.

reasons to rejoice

reasons that I stand on every day’

even on bad days

How you answer the old question, “Is the glass half full or half empty” really does matter. It is amazing how I can turn my misery switch on and off and my joy button on and off. It really does matter how I view the world. It is a matter of taking a step back and looking at the big picture.

Do I choose to squint and focus on the thorns or do I step back and see the beauty of the entire bush. Do I focus on every miserable detail that goes wrong in my life or do I step back and thank God for everything that is right with it.

Mutual RespectL Listen to the Children:

“Mum, mum! Come see what I made!”

“Can you read me a book?”

“I tried and tried but it just won’t stay together.”

“Mum, can we talk?”

“Would you help me edit this essay? It’s due tomorrow.”

“Let’s do something together.”

No matter what our occupation, we tend to think that our work, our agenda is important. It is almost in our nature to let ambition and drive push other people to the fringes of our awareness while we toil in an isolated bubble of self-importance. There are many methods that can shake us out of this selfish obsession but for me as a mother, it was my children.

Of course sometimes children need to learn patience, learn to wait but I discovered that usually their needs were immediate. Even if a problem seemed minor to me, it was monumental to one of my little people. A block tower which took 30 minutes to build and 30 seconds for a toddler to destroy was equal to an adult’s business deal that took 3 weeks to set up and a day to fall apart.

Brushing off their concerns was often a temptation.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t over react.”

“Not now. I am busy.”

“Can’t you see that what I am doing is more important?”

To respond to my kids or in the case of any adult, to respond to interruptions to work, requires surrendering to the duty of the moment. To respond to an interruption often means we must put our agenda to the side for a moment and embrace the agenda of another person, especially if it is a mere child.

The biggest stumbling block to truly listening, especially to children, is our self-important business. Henri Nouwen SJ, a Jesuit author and university professor, complained to God about all the undergraduate students who knocked on his office door, interrupting his important writing. God’s answer?

“I just gave you that book to write to keep you busy in between appointments;

your real work is all these interruptions.”