Why I am Never Proud of My Children

You hear it all the time, I hear it all the time, my kids hear it ALL the time. . .
                                                                  "I'm so proud of you."

At least a million post a year on Face Book must have the words "I am so proud of (fill in the blank with a relation, friend, country, Olympian, actor, musician, non-profit, whatever)." You drive down the street and about every third car has a" proud parent" of someone sticker on their tailgate. Graduation, birthday, holiday cards, you name it and you can find Hallmark helping some person declare they are proud of another.

I have no numbers to back this, but I am guessing there are substantially fewer that say "I am so proud of myself."

But you can rest easy that you won't hear it from me. . . I am not proud of my children, I am not proud of my husband, and I am not proud of you. I am sometime proud of myself. Sometimes I am brimming-over-shimmering-with-inner-light proud of myself and sometimes I am just thank-goodness-I-didn't-tell-anyone-off proud, but either way I reserve being proud for myself and myself alone.

Some people in my world know this about me, some may not. . . some support it, some think it is quirky, some may even think it cruel (although I only know that to be a maybe, as they glare me across the room as they pour praise all over their own children).

Regardless, of what others think about it, it is what I do. I also don't say "good job," "way to go," or anything else along those lines.

So, the next question is always "Why?" Some people follow with a thought about how parents have a duty to build up their children's confidence, other people say that I am arguing semantics, still others joke about if only I had better children.

Yet, the real reason why is because I don't think it's my place to feel satisfaction or pleasure about anyone else's achievements or qualities. I don't know the whole story, unless it is mine.  Perhaps the test you are so proud of your child for doing well on was the one where they guessed; perhaps the sporting event where you didn't say anything was the one that they worked the hardest at yet couldn't make a goal happen; perhaps there is more going on behind the scenes than we could ever fully comprehend.  What if say you are proud of something and if you knew the whole story you wouldn't feel that way?

Are you thinking about my kids, about those poor Miller children who are never told good job and never told their mom is proud of them? I wouldn't worry too much about them.  They are proud of themselves! They are confident, they can self evaluate, and most importantly they don't need or look to anyone else to build them up.

I have dedicated a great deal of time to just that; helping my children be people who know their own value in this world. After every class, activity, event they are asked what they did that they were proud of and what they want to improve on.  I try to point out observations without placing judgement, "you seemed really focused on your project,"  "your time for that lap was," "you made more baskets today" then I wait and see what they want to say.  I will always give them my opinion when asked, I will shower them in love, and I will always be here to help them; but I will never diminish their accomplishments by being proud of them.

Why No, I Don't Shit Rainbows

I don't shit rainbows and I actually hope you don't either. Seriously that would be weird, and what about your actual digestive tract, and wouldn't you feel a little uncomfortable flushing a rainbow into the sewer? I totally regress, but I do want to clarify no rainbow poops, no unicorns, no fairies, no magic dust. Just me, standard gross digestion, and boring lack of mythical.

So, I know you are asking, "Why does this even need to be clarified?" I can hear you asking this in your mind as you sip your warm beverage and sit in your cozy seat to see what I decided to ramble about today.

I have been told recently that it does in fact seem, at least to those who only know my facebook post or have only met me in passing, that I may shit rainbows.

Thank the universe that this has been cleared up!

Some days I do have a possibly unhealthy positive outlook and some days I do toss reality to the wind. Some days are just like that. Those are the days that if I were asked if the glass was half empty or half full, I would giggle and say who the hell needs a glass when there is an ocean? Days when I can find the beauty in everything, even the devastating and truly terrible. Days when I can see everything through my rosy colored glasses, when the power-full-ness of being me is so awesome that I can't even imagine the feelings of stress or uncertainty, without knowing that they are perfect feelings.

But there are the other days too. The days that weigh me down and I unfortunately am unbalanced and falling on my figurative face because I lack any semblance of grace. Days that I cry and am scared, days when I think I have fucked everything up and am lost to help myself.  

It is not that some days I actually live a dream life and other days I don't. . . it is really all in my head. My reality is only as good or as bad as I make it out to be. So, some days I do let myself dwell in the darkness, some days I do just cry, and some days I choose to have my own little pity party. But I never stay there. . . 

So, you may be asking why I care what you think. I sort of don't; no offense. But I do care if somehow my desire to be optimistic and positive, leaves you feeling less than stellar. I know how that can feel, I have been in darkness that has no shades of grey. I have felt the weight of other people's perspectives, certain that my reality would always pale in comparison. But in truth it was never my reality that kept me down, it was my view of it. I came out of abuse, I came out of poverty, I came out a life that I thought was worthless. I came out of it because I was done being a victim of my own inaction, of my own constant comparison to others.  I found myself and my optimism and my power.

Although, I started this post thinking it mattered to tell people I have crap days too. . . .really, STOP worrying about my days.  I am not the comparison to be making in this world. I am going to focus on what my days could be and I hope you do the same.

Ooops. . . I forgot, I am

It is so easy in my every day life to get swept away with what I do.

I do care for my kids, I do chat with my husband, I do plan events, I do homeschool, I do teach classes, I do laundry, I do crack terrible jokes, I do procrastinate, I do rearrange my furniture too often, I do find ways to avoid washing dishes; but in all the doing I seem to lose the who part of me. . . .who am I?

I do the whole default parent thing (haha, you really should read this blog if you aren't sure what a default parent is),  but even as I chuckled at the writing in that blog, I was struck with the huge power of not being a mom, but THE MOM.  I am the only mom my little cherubs get.  I am the one and only.  That is amazing and powerful and a LOT of responsibility and WOW!!! I remember holding each of my babies for the first time and having the sense of awe that we were together and yet this little article struck a chord in me. I should not ever have let that awe slip my mind because of a little daily routine or stress.  With great power comes great responsibility and remembering that I am THE MOM is a huge responsibility.

As is the way with my overactive mind, I started to think about all the things that I am. . . .not the things I do.  I am so much and yet, I seem to so easily have lost myself in the list of what I do.  Yet, the solution is not to do less, it is to remember that who I am is what brought me to do those things in the first place and to return to the things that I have wondered away from.  It is about remembering the I am.  I am the mom who adores her kids and wants to experience life with them.  I am the community builder that has a knack for bringing people together and creating culture.  I am the woman who chose to marry the best man for me.  I am the writer who has a story to tell. I am the traveler who becomes restless in one place for too long.  I am me and I am so thrilled to be finding myself again.

What My Grandmother Left Behind- A Holiday Reflection

     Holidays always hold a great deal of reflection for me.  They represent a passing of time, a choice of traditions continued, a sense of light and good spirit.  The holidays are a time for me that I cherish and this year was no different.  It was amazing and beautiful and filled with a blend of new and old.  Oddly enough one of my favorite parts of the holiday is an old tradition that has a new charm, Christmas with my family.  Not my family meaning my hubby and kids, but FAMILY meaning my great aunt and uncle, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, a second cousin's adorable daughter.  I mean the people who have known you since the day you were born or you have known since the day they were born.

    By no means is this the first year I have seen this FAMILY around the holidays, but as life has happened the tradition has changed, ebbed, flowed, disappeared and returned.  It has been the years since my grandmother's passing that has cemented this tradition in my heart.

   My grammie passed away September 9th 2010.  It was a relatively quick few weeks. . . One day in August she was fine, then she wasn't, then we found out her cancer was terminal, and then she was gone.  It was fast considering that she lived to see her 80th birthday days before she died.  It was heart breaking, devastating, sorrowful, and now in reflection beautiful.

   Of course, every day of my life I would choose to have my grammie alive, but what she left us with is remarkable. . . she left us with each other.  She left us, aunts, uncles, cousins, family; but she left us together.  She left us with memories of five weeks spent in her tiny trailer, she left us with laughter from retold childhood stories, she left us with favorite recipes, she left us with a new understanding of each other, and she left us with time we will all keep in our hearts.

    She left us before weddings happened, before my beautiful niece was born, before my own children had had enough time with her, but her parting left a bond.  We will all keep her memories more alive for ourselves and our children, because we are more connected.  My children will better know their FAMILY because of the time I spent with them that late summer.  We can see my grandmother shining through in the eyes of my aunt, we can see her off-color sense of humor come through as we sit around playing games, we can see her love of sports come through as people yell at the game on TV.

   My grandmother is with us all the time in a million little ways and what she left behind was a FAMILY forever stronger for having loved her.

 

 

When Christmas Changes

This year I did a Christmas fund raiser for a local homeschooling family I know.  For a fee parents, aunts, grandparents, whomever filled out some info about a child and I sent out a lovely letter from Santa.  It was super fun for me, I hope it brought joy to some wonderful children, and it helped out my friend.

Well, the last letter requested was completely different from the others, it was requested by a friend of mine for her niece who just learned the truth about Santa.  She asked if I could write a letter keeping the spirit and magic of the season alive for this young woman.  I was struck to the quick because just this summer I had told my own eleven year old daughter and she had been devastated.  It was probably my worst mommy moment to date.

I know when I found out there was no Santa I had also been heart broken, yet as an adult I have always loved the holiday.  As I sat on my sofa, sipping my coffee and typing this up, I was over come with every emotion imaginable.  But most of all joy, that perhaps I could help this young woman in a way that would heal my own wounds and those of my own daughter.  There is magic in the air this time of year and I hope that this letter helps anyone who is searching for it.

Merry Christmas!  I understand that you have learned a little bit more about Christmas magic this year.  I know that it can be a hard lesson to learn at first and a little heart breaking.  However, I wanted to write you today to welcome you into the world of real Christmas magic.

Believing in Santa is such an easy part of childhood, the warmth of it can brighten your days all year round, the anticipation of the jolly man can fill your dreams, and the knowledge that there is magic in this world can ease worries.  Yet, the belief in Santa is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Christmas magic.

Now, that you know about Santa, you can start to see and experience the real magic of Christmas; the magic that is bigger and deeper and more meaningful than one simple man and eight tiny reindeer.  Your eyes can now be open to the world where we all join together to share in the Santa story for children.  You can now see the magic of thousands of toys and dinners and funds being donated each year so that children all across our country can share in the same joy every December 25^th.  You can now see the miracles of compassion and joy and generosity that people can make happen when united.

Over your life you are bound to share the Santa belief with others, your cousins, children you babysit, perhaps one day your own children.  Yet, more importantly you are bound to share in the Christmas magic that is more than just Santa.  You are bound to give a piece of yourself to the world to help make a holiday season a little brighter for someone else. 

                                  Merry Christmas!

Making Space, Transitions, and What Comes Next

Making space has come to mean so much more to me in the past few months, than it did in the prior thirty plus years of my life.  Making space when I was young was cleaning out toys that were babyish.  Making space as a teen was rearranging my desk so I could have my own phone line or moving my CDs so I could buy the newest single.  Making space then was child's play.

But now as a mom, a wife, a friend, a gardener, an organizer, a writer, a complete person, making space is about so much more than physical space.  It is about space in my schedule to breath.  It is about space in my life to be available to those I love whenever they want.  It is about space in my thoughts to be creative.  It is about space in my life to continue exploring and learning.  It is about the space in my house to really look at what we own and make sure we have the energy and desire to care for it all.  So with the desire to make space has come the world of transitions.

Transitions are hard for some people and some transitions are harder than others.  In the past few months, my family has faced some easy transitions and some much, much harder.

We have looked at some, not yet all, of our possessions and started to really put our ownership of things into perspective.  Does this bring me joy?  Do I want to take time to care for it?  These were the easy transitions and we have even laughed at seeing hundreds of our things spread out and realizing not one of them is worth our time caring for them.

Some transitions, like the re-homing of kittens born in the spring have been more pressing for allergy reasons, but difficult.  Giving up my nanny position after 20 months of opening our home and hearts to three children, much, much more difficult.

We have started our transition to a life with less income, fewer activities, less stuff, and more freedom.

So the question that sits before me, us, is what comes next!

An Introduction to the Juggling

I love watching jugglers, the really good ones.  The ones who juggle sticks on fire or swords, while standing on one foot or spinning in perfect circles between each toss.  I love the motion, the fluidity, the precision, but most of all I love their unwavering balance.  I have felt that balance before, not while juggling (anyone who has seen me try to juggle can verify I have no talent in that arena), but I have felt it in my life.  I have felt that amazing precision and purposefulness in my every action.  I have felt the calm of knowing my environment and what I can control within it.  I have felt the peace of being balanced among the variables I can't control.  I love that feeling.  I search out and crave that feeling.  I so often find myself teetering on balance.  Feeling it and holding it and being my own amazing juggler, just to have the moment pass.  Although we may only be strangers passing in this world, I would love to share with you my search for balance.