The Season of the Grandparents Continues

Well we had to return our last set of grandparents after the Thanksgiving weekend. They’re still functioning in perfect working order, and there was no issue with their grand-parental performance — but much like the books we get from the library, we got to enjoy them while they were here, and we will be able to check them out again, but we have to return them when they are due, so that others can enjoy them too! Or something like that…

Not to worry, though, we got our second installment of grandparent fun delivered just a few days later. Grandpop Michael showed up with bags of souvenirs from around the globe and more jokes than a stand-up comedian. He wowed the girls with dolls from Macedonia, shirts from Nepal embroidered with their names, and bizarre cat noises almost no one else could create. He made the girls laugh and gave them “heck” (as he’d prefer I say…).

It has been fun to watch the grandparents with the kids. Each one interacts in his or her own way, and the girls respond in their own ways as well. It makes for some fun anthropological research — if you’re into that sort of thing, which I am. The other thing that has been really interesting to me is collecting more data about where personality comes from. What a weird and wonderful thing human personality is…

We enjoyed an extended weekend with Grandpop, and packed in as much fun and restaurant food and shopping as we could all stand, and then sent him back off to Virginia and then on to parts unknown. His spot in the pink chair was barely cold before we got our next installment of family, though… Grammy arrived yesterday and surprised us all by bringing with her Natalie’s sister Em. But more on that next time!

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Be well.

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Holidays… Go!

My parents, Nana and Grandpa George, arrived yesterday afternoon from their home in Alabama.

Somehow it worked in perfect cosmic synchronicity that the flight they were on got in with just enough time for me to pick them up, grab the bags they checked, run to the van with them trailing behind, and hightail it to the Montessori school Xideka attends for the Thanksgiving feast they were having. The kids, teachers, and some parents made the food; and when we dashed into the school, all the 50-odd children in the school were seated neatly around a low, winding strand of tables before a semi-traditional Thanksgiving spread. The director of the school gave aallll the kids the opportunity to say one thing for which they were thankful before they began the meal (she’s a braver soul than I…). Xi said she was thankful, “that I have a family.” After the meal, Xi took Nana and Grandpa around the three main rooms of the school, and to the classroom where she spends most of her time each day. She showed them some of her works, and beamed proudly as they oohed and aahed in flawless grandparent fashion.

But we didn’t stop there. No. Even though they got up at 2:30 in the morning to drive the hour-long trip to the nearest airport, and flew thousands of miles to get here, they were with us now, and we all had one more stop. We went from the school, dropped off the luggage at Gus (you know, the house where we live…), and headed to the Good Food Store (best name for a grocery ever). We scoured the aisles, and dallied in play, while talking about meal ingredients. Nana was in charge of the official shopping list to which she kept adding and immediately crossing off items as we filled the cart. Make that a cart and a half… Of this I am sure: we will be well-fed (but hopefully not over-fed) for the holiday weekend.

But we didn’t stop there. Nope. Already, Nana and Grandpa George were being entertained, and involved in kid discussions, and presentations, and even a pretend or two (perhaps without knowing it…). Already, they’d endured epic physical travel, whirlwind school feasting and touring, abundant holiday grocery collecting. But once home, there was the tour of Gus for which they were signed up — as part of their travel package, of course, and being 1st time guests of the New Gus Grandparent Accommodations (“Ing-g-gah” [NGGA], for short). They got to see the fully-accoutred kid rooms, Grandpa even climbed part way up the ladder and peered into the kid loft. They got to see the (newly hung) family art collection, and the cool storage spaces Gus has tucked away in every corner. They also finally got to see all the rugs and lamps and bed spreads and towels that Nana took us all to pick out before we moved back into the house this past January.  The grandparents talked about the solidity of the construction, the wisdom of our design and decor choices, the aesthetic appeal of the wood and the wall colors. And they oohed and aahed in appropriate grandparent fashion.

Then while Natalie made an amazing dinner, Nana read a fistful of stories, Grandpa chatted with us big kids, and all of us were included in a couple of pretends (whether we all knew it or not…), as well as, the opening of a gift. Grandpa George answered a knock at the door at one point and returned with a box bearing familiar amazon.com packaging and addressed to me. Xi was anxious to open it, but kept having to wait through various delays, like Echo needing a bathroom break, etc., etc.. Xi was magically able to wait with supreme patience, even though her Grandpa was encouraging her to just start opening the outside package… It was becoming apparent that he knew something we didn’t. After the “various (aforementioned) delays”, Echo returned and the opening commenced immediately. Inside was an amazing CD set of music that George Harrison had produced of Ravi Shankar’s music, some with Harrison himself in the band. It came with a lovely book with photos that looked like Harrison had been photoshopped into an Indian movie from the 70′s, and bits of history of Shankar and Harrison’s relationship and the music born from it, with a forward by Philip Glass. Grandpa George had sent it to us, and arrived synchronically, both to be here when we got it, and to be the man to receive it from the shipping guy at the front door… We all oohed and aahed in cosmically- and historically-appreciative fashion.

This Thanksgiving seems to be picking up momentum at a delicious pace. Today we get our Bella. And then our idyllic holiday will kick into even fuller operation (seriously, no puns intended). But we won’t stop there. No…

I hope you enjoy your holiday, friends (at least, you American ones who have this holiday…).

*

But everyone: be well.

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It’s Always the Little Things

Last month, I went on a short trip with one of my maternal uncles and my dad (he’s my “step-dad”, but I generally only call him that for clarity when necessary). We went down to southern Utah, to Arches National Park, Canyonlands, all the way to Monument Valley at the northern tip of Arizona. It was a quick trip, and a full one.

We drove and walked through hundreds of miles of spell-binding geology. We traveled through some of the longest-standing and “busiest” culturally historical terrain in America.  We climbed canyons and cliffs. We walked among crazy sandstone formations, centuries-old ruins, and mysterious petroglyphs.

Hopefully, someone will share with me some of their amazing digital photos soon, so I can show you some of the more impressive sights from the trip. I actually took a couple rolls of 35mm camera shots, myself, but have yet to get them processed…

So I couldn’t show you any of what we saw on the trip; but what I can show you, and am, today is something special I brought home for the girls. Of course, I had to bring stuff back for the girls… Each one got a special stone from my travels, a t-shirt, and some actual Mexican Jumping Beans!

Obviously, I didn’t get the beans in Mexico. They were imported Mexican Jumping Beans. I purchased them, first thing, when I arrived at the Salt Lake City airport, where I was meeting my dad and getting picked up by my uncle (who was driving us all-over Utah). Coincidentally, I just happened to walk up the concourse from my flight arrival at SLC (as we call it here), and saw my dad coming the other way, and he was coincidentally talking with a friend he knew from back home in Alabama. Where we bumped into one another was coincidentally right outside my favorite kid shop in the SLC airport (a major travel hub for us Montana folks). So I decided I would duck in and see if there was anything fun for the kids before I set off and spent all my souvenir money.

The airport shop has all the latest, coolest stuff for young kids, I’d say from toddler to about ten or so. We’ve gotten “Groovy Girl” stuff there, and stuffed-animal neck pillows, and other fun stuff we still have. On this particular day, though, I was not seeing anything that was absolutely fabulous, so I decided to go for some glow in the dark Sillybands (which I didn’t mention in the list above because I haven’t yet given those out). In the line to pay for the Sillybands, I saw the Mexican Jumping Beans.

I heard gospel hymns in my head. I saw an aura of golden light around the display. I had heard of MJBs before. They were mythical additions to some childhood cartoons I still vaguely remember as if images from a dream. And though I thought they were maybe made up, I had always been intrigued. I had perviously surmised that if they actually existed at all, they were probably coffee beans that had insects inside. I knew the girls would love them.

They sat four or five beans to a small plastic box, in a stacked arrangement of about 30 boxes. The clicked and rattled in the boxes, as the beans popped and rolled and bounced. In concert, they made quite a little ticking chorus. I bought two boxes, and grabbed the informational printout to bring as well.

The rather informative little information sheet informed me that the jumping beans come from a single area in Mexico, and that they are in fact, not coffee beans at all, but some sort of legume-type bean which come 3 to a pod. The jumping part is due to a moth larva who is laid as an egg in the mouth of the flower that becomes the pod, bores his/her way into the new, tender bean, and then slowly eats its way through to the next spring when it comes out as a moth. They go dormant in the cold, and they start “jumping” in the heat to keep from cooking inside their hard brown rental homes.

I stuffed the little plastic boxes in the bag the shopkeeper gave me, and zipped that into the side of the bag I was carrying. We went merrily on our way, and eventually got picked up from the airport by my uncle and headed south that evening. My uncle’s vehicle was loaded with stuff my dad and I had sent him to bring to us, as well as his own gear for the trip. I sat in the back, surrounded by stuff — in the seat beside me, as well as piled up in the hatch-back area behind me. One of the bags I’d brought with me was balanced on a big green Coleman stove in the back. And for several hours, either the bag or the stove was making a little rattle-squeak-ticking type of noise that I could not figure out.

As the miles went by, the noise kept giving me pause to wonder what the heck was going on. I tried my best to ignore it, but eventually, I was always reminded. That night we stayed at a hotel. I got the two air-travel bags I was using and brought them inside the room. When I set it down, I heard the stove-sound from the car again. Then I remembered — the beans…

They were in that bag I brought, flopping and clicking around in their little plastic boxes…

Through-out the course of the trip, the little Mexican Jumping Beans were a recurrent theme of humour. At one point, I thought maybe, I’d cooked them by leaving them too long in the car. And at another point, I thought I’d frozen them. And, regularly, their little click-clicking snuck up on us and had us wondering before we realized it was the beans, again.

So when I finally got home and distributed the gifts, the girls oohed and aahed over the shirts, the Navajo rattle I brought for the whole family, and the stones. And they actually were quite interested in the Mexican Jumping Beans, but I just couldn’t help feeling that they couldn’t possibly get out of them all that those little tickers meant to me…

Above and just below here, you can see Xi and Echo “racing” some beans. We put them in the middle of the paper (on the back of the informational printout), and the first bean to roll into one of the ovals on the outside of the ring, “wins”.  The girls actually played it for a little while, but those beans don’t do much in the way of impressive jumping in chilly Montana.

Maybe if we put them under a heat lamp…?

Having kids: It’s fun for the whole family…

*

Be well.

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A Typical Day

Lately, many of our days have looked something like this…

Echo is crouched down by the dining room table. She rests on a couch cushion we moved for the purpose, and is surrounded by toy figures of various animals and characters. She plays with them as she listens to story after story after story (and then repeats) on the little cd player the girls share. In this photo she’s listening to Charlotte’s Web (read by E.B. himself), but she’s also been into Matilda, Bunnicula, The Wizard of Oz, and Pippy Longstockings (which I now know by heart…).

Of course she isn’t the only one listening to these stories. She doesn’t really like the headphones (which are, among other things, just a little too big for her), so we’ve all gotten a fair taste, or more, of many of the stories. It’s funny, but it’s somewhat like the scene one usually imagines involving their teen child listening to way too much punk music way too loud… only it’s the deep, tempered voice of E.B. White for hours on end…

So while the readers carry on (and on and on…) we all just carry on as well. On this particular day, in the dining room with Echo, Xi has been working on some projects. You can see the book she has opened on the table above Echo. Or here, below, taking a break and contemplating her story-obsessed sibling (while listening to Charlotte’s Web, of course).

And parked at the dining room table with them, or should I say, “And sharing studio space with them,” Natalie works hour after hour on making the latest item of Faery Food. On this day, she’s preparing cauliflower leaves, on day 2 of a major cauliflower production binge…

Xi, noticing that I keep taking pictures (for which she isn’t getting to pose…), asks if I’ll let her “get ready” before I shoot the next one…

so, I oblige her. And this is what I get for it…

We all laugh — somewhat quieter than usual so we don’t interrupt the story…

Then I take one more picture, since Xi is ready, and I go back to making tea for myself, and on to my own little project (recreating “strawberry hill” in our yard). These are my favorite kind of days. Short of having our Bella with us (which is farther between than we would like, nowdays), I’d say this is my perfect kind of day.

So easy. So mutually fulfilling. So sweet. So together. Mmm-mmm goodness.

Here’s to more of the same.

And here’s to your own version of a perfect typical day.

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Be well

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Just a friendly reminder — we launch our eCourse this Monday the 10th! Don’t know what that is? Click here to find out!

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Village Meeting — All are Welcome

I’ve been mentioning it here and there for over a month, but now we’re finally ready to unveil it, and begin. It’s going to be fun. It’s going to be informative. It’s going to be challenging. And it’s going to be one of the best things you’ve ever done for your parenting.

For all of you who have enjoyed, learned from, and been inspired by our blogs and/or consultations with us, Natalie and I are offering a special opportunity to immerse yourselves in our philosophy, be part of a meaningful and informative dialogue with us, and connect with us and other like-minded and interested parents from around the world in a global village forum.  We’ll look, learn, and laugh with one another as we work together to continue developing our own understandings and approaches to living out this amazing experience we call parenting.

Natalie and I title it “Parenting on the Same Team”. You can click on the link below to find out more.

http://talkfeeleez.typepad.com/talk-feeleez/2011/09/parenting-on-the-same-team-aka-he-said-she-said-.html

We hope you’ll join us for what promises to be a family-life-changing event.

*

Be well.

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Shakespearian Parenting Advice

Wow! What an insanely busy couple of weeks I’ve just had — way, way busier than I like to be, unless it’s busy in the yard, or busy playing! I’ve now reached that light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, and am excited to share with you some of the thoughts that have had to just bounce around inside my head in the interim…

The big theme for me and most of my clients of late has been, “To thine own self be true.” It keeps showing up in different venues, situations, and manners in the lives of numerous people with whom I’ve been interacting both professionally and casually, as well as in my own life. It happens quite a bit that my clients will (unknowingly, of course) share a theme between them from week to week and month to month. And as always, aside from my kids, my clients are my best teachers — so when I am struggling with or learning about something, often so are they in their own way(s), and our gleanings inform and inspire one another. I believe this is part of the universal law of attraction, in that, when we are going through something, we attract more of it, the more we focus on it. I also think we bring people to ourselves who are learning similar things, even if, as is sometimes the case, s/he is learning about it from a totally opposing perspective — for example, someone learning about teaching a thing, while someone else in her sphere (or right in front of her) is learning about receiving instruction in that thing.

At any rate, over and over the last couple weeks, my clients and I have been getting the message to trust ourselves, and to be true to what we know, and feel, and want. Some of us are on the “follow your bliss” end of that spectrum and are concentrating on the zen practice of merrily tripping along toward what matters most to us. Others are stuck at the gate and beating our heads against yet another example of how we second-guessed ourselves. And still more of us have been somewhere in the middle, trying to listen for our internal messages, straining to hear the voice of our feelings guiding us through the forest of interactions and opportunities of our daily lives.

So I decided to send out a beacon. It’s from all of us to ourself. We’ve been whispering it into our own collective ear for a while now, but it’s time we stood up and shouted it out so those in the back can hear it clearly. So everyone, repeat after me:

I   T R U S T  M E ! ! ! 

Mmm, doesn’t that feel good?! Yeah, I like it, too. Now, who’s up for repeating that as often as necessary, until it sticks?

Maybe you could even challenge yourself, as I asked one client to do recently, and trust yourself every time you have a feeling or a thought about what is right to do, or think, or say, or feel for one whole week. If it comes up, and the question is, “Do I trust myself in this situation, or do I trust someone else’s version of what I should do or think, etc.,” then you already know what the answer is. If you have an intuition and you’re not sure if you should act on it — do. If you are struggling with the right decision in terms of your parenting, listen only to what feels right to you — not what you’ve been taught, not what so-and-so says is right, not what this book says, or the teacher says, or your parents say, or what the bossy, self-sabotaging voice in your head says — but only to your deepest knowing. Listen to your “gut”, and nothing else.

If you can live up to that challenge for a whole week, you will undoubtedly be a more powerful person, but you’ll also be a better parent, and you’ll feel happier than ever before in your life. Why? Because you actually do know what feels right to you, and you only ever get bent out of shape because you aren’t doing it. It’s like having to go to the bathroom but not wanting to stop the project you are doing in order to go. There’s a feeling inside you saying, “If you take care of this, you’ll feel better, you’ll be able to concentrate more easily, and you won’t feel agitated.” When we ignore that feeling, for a different agenda, we get more and more uncomfortable. When we stop the routine, or the project, and let go of the rigid adherence to the other agenda for a moment, and listen to ourselves, and trust our internal messages, and act from there to do what feels right, then… Aahhhhh. We can relax, we can get back to feeling good, and we can move on with other tasks more quickly and with more focus than we were capable of when we were ignoring our feelings.

As it turns out, we have the exact same variety of  internal anxiety and irritation ignoring our bodily functions as we do ignoring our intuitive functions. There’s a pain, or an itch, or an irritation that comes with ignoring what we know and feel in our deep-selves. Some would even say that all anger and suffering come from ignoring our deeper knowing in favor of some shallower, perhaps more practical or popular, “knowledge”.

This is why I tell people to tread lightly when reading the Introduction to Nurture Shock, which is a book a strongly and often recommend. Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman do a stellar job of collecting, condensing, and covering some important research in child nurturing and development throughout the book. The information they deliver is potent medicine for a good bit of what ails the practice of modern parenting — where so much misinformation has poisoned our ability to hear and listen and understand our own intuitive messages. Where the book feels shaky to me is where the authors warn us (using their own story to illustrate) how far off our “instincts” can be — because the examples they give aren’t instincts, they aren’t deep intuitions about what feels right; they’re programs. So although the things they mention aren’t things I would suggest anyone doing (like praising the stuffing out of every kid in view), I also would say that those things aren’t instinctual or intuitive — they are parenting mythology, rhetoric, and pseudo-scientific superstition passed down through the last few generations. The things Bronson and Merryman warn us not to listen to aren’t ourselves, they are actually the very things that obscure our own voices and knowing. And at a time when you can literally find “good scientific evidence” to support nearly any parenting method under the sun, it is more important than ever not to collapse our own feelings with what we are told to be feeling. It’s all the more important for those of us seeking to get a more comprehensive story into the hands and minds of parents everywhere that we not disempower or risk disconnecting them from their own senses of what feels “good and right”. That’s their most (and only) trust-worthy measure of what they should do, we can’t afford to tell parents not to listen to themselves.

I also want to be clear that our intuitions would never tell us that it felt the most “good and right” to do any of the coercive, manipulative, or down-right scary tactics espoused in some parenting books today. If we honestly check in with ourselves, what parent would really feel right about letting his/her child “Cry It Out” alone for 30 minutes; or about manipulating a child to get compliance; or about praising a kid to get more of a preferred behavior? Those tendencies are just the training we’ve been given to resist our instincts to nurture, and care for, and assist in the natural development of both ourselves and our kids. Those methods weren’t designed for those purposes — they were designed to control behaviors not development, and in dogs, not humans — but their effect has been to poison our ability to trust what actually feels like the right thing(s) to do.

We know it doesn’t feel good to punish our kids, but that’s what we were taught is the the correct method so we ignore our feelings, mistrust our guts, and plod along. Why? Because we want our kids to fit in society, and live happy, successful lives, and because we don’t want to be judged as incompetent to assist our kids in doing those things. We’ve been duped. And now it’s time we took off the blinders with which we’ve been fitted. It’s time we opened ourselves back up to trusting what we know and feel beyond all rhetoric and rules. It’s time to trust ourselves before anything or anyone else.

Remember our mantra: I trust me.

And “above all, to thine own self be true.”

*

Be well.

*

P.S. Although I would prefer not to “have to” say this, I want to be mindful not to paint anyone into any corners… So, if you’re listening to yourself, and your intuition is telling you that the method you have been using isn’t feeling good, but you don’t know what other method(s) might feel better, don’t be afraid to get more information. But be true to yourself in deciding what information you are willing to accept!

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As Good as We Get (until we get Better)

I am  steadily becoming an international parenting consultant (did you know that?), working with people all around the world to improve their experience of parenting; listening to their stories, empathizing with them, giving them advice, and helping them to look at what matters most to them in raising their children. By some I am considered an “expert” in the theory and methodology of Natural Parenting. By some I’ve been called a parenting guru, and a child-rearing revolutionary. And some parents out there even wish they had me for a Papa; or had a partner to parent with that is as interested in parenting as I am; or that they themselves could parent the way Natalie and I do.

Some would say that I am the perfect parent. And that would be just as ridiculous as saying that I made all of the stars. And though I have been studying and practicing being a stellar, empathetic, and confident parent for over a decade, I am no more “perfect” than you are. And at the same time, we are all no less perfect than we should be (but more on that in a minute — I’m not finished debunking…). The wonderful truth is, I couldn’t parent your kids half as well as you; and for them, no one can be as just right as you are. (Maybe you want to read that again just to make sure it gets into your longer term memory…)

Many people reading here, and in the workshops, teleconferences, and consultations that I give, make the erroneous assumption, not only that I am a perfect parent, but also that I am “just that way” — that I have always been an enlightened parent, and that I always act accordingly. They get starry-eyed and fool themselves into forgetting that all human prowess is learned, practiced, and built from the (same) ground up. As Malcolm Gladwell so thoroughly explains in The Tipping Point, so many of the geniuses in history, so many of the experts and masters, weren’t simply born better than the rest of us at their particular skill set — they were educated, and trained, and practiced. And as Gladwell points out, mastery only begins to surface at around 10,000 hours of all that practical experience.

Just to put that into perspective, one full year’s worth of hours is 8,766. So if we didn’t sleep at all, and only practiced what we thought was right, we could be masters of parenting our own children in just about 1.14 years. But of course we do sleep (and would like to sleep more…), and we don’t always practice the kind of parenting we want to be good at doing. So let’s be generous and say we have about half the number of hours in a year to which we may (whether or not we do) devote ourselves to the study, implementation, and practice of stellar parenting. So unless we have previous experience, we have an outside chance of being parenting masters by the time our children are 2 1/2 — that is, if we do little else with those hours…

Just so you know, I’m not trying to let you off the hook for doing your best at raising your children. I am looking to point out that you have about as much chance of being Mozart out of the gate as you do of being a pro parent right away. It’s not that you weren’t cut out for this parenting thing (and other “perfect parents” that you see are), the odds are just against us being parenting masters until we have enough time to develop our skills. For most modern parents, who don’t get nearly enough practice time because they have to work away from their families and are forced to rely on daycare, school, and the like, they reach the 10,000 hours mark and their mastery starts to show itself just about the time they become grandparents.

So let’s just get this idea out of the way, too — you will not always be the kind of parent you think of as perfect. You can’t possibly be practiced enough at that until you are — well, practiced enough. More than likely, you will have to settle for being the apprentice-parent that you are for many years. And if you get the hang of your toddler, the toddler will suddenly be a kid; if you get the hang of dealing with your little kid masterfully, she’ll suddenly be a big kid: and then a pre-teen; and then a teenager; and then a young adult; and so on. It’s like trying to be an expert on randomness — the moment you settle on a theory, the variables shift and you are back to collecting data for a new hypothesis. From kid to kid and stage to stage, the variables continue to play havoc with our theorizing, such that, if there are “masters” of parenting out there, their title is hard-won and subject to an incredibly narrow scope of expertise.

When I was about 6, my Grandfather helped my Mom and I to plant a garden in our back yard. I didn’t know anything about gardening, of course, but was mystified into absolute adoration for this strange area at the end of my expansive outdoor play pen. I watched Grandfather toiling, carving the earth, and sewing life in it’s belly. Then I watched as things magically began to grow there. I watched the watering and the weeding and the harvesting. Over the years, I continued to feel a subconscious link between Grandfather, and gardening, and me, and I became an avid gardener myself. In the 30 plus years since that first garden, I have grown food and flowers in every climate zone of the lower 48 states of America. I have tended gardens in the year-round growing season of southern coastal Georgia, and in the barely-enough-time-to-harvest growing season of western Montana. When I began, I couldn’t tell a mustard seed from a sand grain. Now, I could grow roses in the ocean.

Like that 6 year-old watching his Grandfather invent gardening from the ground up, most of us come to parenting utterly mystified. We didn’t get enough time as children with our own parents, and we didn’t get enough time watching our siblings being raised, and we didn’t get to be with other families having kids and raising them enough, either, so at the age of procreating, most of us know less about raising a child than we did when we were one. The strange thing is not that we aren’t auto-masters of parenting as soon as the first kid comes along; the strange thing is that we are expected and expect to be. We have all the basic abilities and tendencies, the right drives and precise hormonal perspective-shifts, we have deep intuition, and gut feelings about what’s best, we were born to do it, but like walking and running (which we were also born to do), we don’t set off at a gallup the first time we are on two legs. We study, we practice, we implement, we rely on the natural processes of which we are already a part, and we trust ourselves (without even thinking about it) — and before long we are sprinting and leaping and dancing.

Our parenting can be like that as well. We don’t have to have all of the answers from the moment of conception. Like our little ones, we are learning too. And if we study, and practice, and implement, and trust — then we already are as perfect at parenting our children as we will ever need to be. The Zen Parenting trick, here, is that when we give ourselves over to the process of our apprenticeship, and apply our attention toward mastering the art of caring for our kids — then we are already having the experience for which we are aiming, we are already being our most perfect-for-the-moment parenting selves, simply by being authentically present with the experience itself.

No one can be you to your little ones. And no one is better equipped to be the most perfect parent for your children than you. Given enough time and attention, you could grow roses in the ocean. But by giving your time and attention, you already are a master gardener.

May we be kind to ourselves as we bumble along, learning, and becoming, and loving.

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Be well.

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Just a reminder: next month, Natalie and I are launching our He Said, She Said E-course called “Parenting on the Same Team”. We’ll be looking at concepts like working with children (as opposed to “doing to” them), having more fun while parenting, being authentic as a parent, and honing your own personal version of parenting perfection. I’ll let you know how you can get in on it as we get a little closer. Stay tuned…

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