Playin’ The Edge

I was thinking more about yesterday’s quote - “Acceptance of the unacceptable is the greatest source of grace in this world”.  Sometimes I get lost in what exactly grace is.  So my short hand way of reminding myself to go “Haaaaaaa” - a big noisy exhale.  

Have you ever done that one in yoga class?  It’s great.  It makes you realize all the holding you do, silently carrying all that breath and tension.  With one exhale you feel yourself let go of all the excess, the worry, the resisting.  It feels like you’re left with just what you need.  You’re in a state of calm.  You’re going with the flow and trusting it will all work out exactly how it needs to.   To me, that’s grace.

But acceptance is hard.  I was thinking about my son’s recent swimming experiences.  He flunked his last level of swimming not once, or twice but three times.  And he loves to swim, it’s not like he was quivering in the corner, he loves it.  I couldn’t accept it. 

Is my kid a Failure?  Is he lacking in some important way?  Is he going to flunk out of school too before he makes it to junior high?  You know, working through all the consequences and “what does this mean”  questions which is such of waste of time because there’s no way we can know.  It only increases the blood pressure.

I finally put him in a private lesson so he could pass the damn thing and take the next level with his cousin this summer.  The teacher was able to get him to understand the expectations which really helped.  They’re supposed to hold things like Starfish, floating on their back for 5 seconds. 

Only no one had told him that, so he’d come up after say, one and a half seconds and wouldn’t pass that requirement. So this teacher told him he needed to stay on his back while she counted to five and sure enough he was like, oh ok, no big deal.  And this time he passed.

So this summer he went into the next level of swimming with his cousin.  I was being really careful to manage my expectations.  To accept whatever was going to happen.  This is his swimming experience, he’ll get it at some point, this isn’t about my timelines. 

Didn’t he pass with flying colors.  There were little check marks next to the long list of stuff they need to show they can do.  I was shocked.  And i couldn’t accept it.

Maybe the teacher has gone insane.  The kids were a little wrangy waiting for their turns to swim, maybe he passed them so he wouln’t have to deal with them anymore.  And then I thought no Corilee, noisy exhale time (Haaaaaa!) just accept it.   Find that state of graceful calm about this too.

We went to the beach the other day and there were some awesome waves coming in.  Angus and I got about waist deep and waited for the waves coming in.  “Here it comes here it comes here it comes!” 

We’d either stand strong or dunk underneath them.  And then we’d feel the sand move under our feet as the wave sucked back down the beach.   Afterwards he played in the waves himself and whether he got hit in the face or bowled over by them he had a blast.  I kept an eye on him but I didn’t worry because he’s a strong little swimmer and he’ll be just fine.

Karli (age 5) “When I grow up I want to be a rock star and a dentist”

Me (age unknown) “That’s sounds great Kar, Angus what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Angus (age 6) “I want to be a Dad”

On the one hand I thought right on, I’ll probably be thrilled to one day be a Grandma.  On the other hand,  I gotta break it to him that the pension plan sucks.

We did a family visit to the Shubenacadie Wildlife Park.  It was our first time, it’s a great little zoo, all rescued local wild animals that look well taken care of.  Afterwards  we had a picnic near the playground and then I laid on a blanket soaking up the sun.

I could hear a parent coaching his son at soccer.  It went like this:

Clayton don’t use your hands!

Clayton no hands on the ball! 

Clayton don’t touch the ball!

CLAYTON IF YOU TOUCH THE BALL ONE MORE TIME WE’RE NEVER PLAYING SOCCER AGAIN!!

I was laying there thinking, hmmm, maybe Clayton is 10 and they’ve been playing soccer together for 5 years and one would expect him to know better.  Curiosity finally got the best of me and I got up to look.  It turned out Clayton was a scrawny little 4 year old in a floppy sunhat.

What is it with these Type A parents?  Maybe Clayton’s Dad could have taken more of a “show me what you can do with your feet!” kind of approach.  Rather than losing it with him.  Over soccer.

And my son’s a five year old in soccer, I see it all the time.  There is a wide range of kids and knowledge and ability and interest. 

There are the ones who want to examine the grass or the cloud formations instead of running after the ball.  There are the little keener dudes who are right in there.  And some of the keeners do great and there are others who get hurt at least twice a game and take a cry break.  My son is more of a run around near the ball having a great time, but not actually pushing himself in there to kick it.  You can read a lot about a kid’s personality by watching them in soccer.

And the parents are either enjoying the soccer playing kid they have or trying hard to make him different.  Like Clayton’s Dad.

It’s been a theme for me lately.  I’ve been letting go so much with parenting.  Angus, the five year old is at the stage where he wants to question everything and push every boundary.  The other night, just a silly example, he was heading to the bathroom before bed and wanted to wear my flip flops.  I immediately said no, they were my shoes and then he reacted and then I thought - Corilee!  give him the freakin’ shoes!  Give him all your shoes!!  Empty out the closet!  Why not?  Especially if it’ll get him to bed. 

I always thought I’d be an easy going parent with the nutty things kids want to do (wear mitts to school in May etc.).  But my first response usually relates to the reasons why not.   When really, if it doesn’t hurt him or destroy my shoes or his mitts, why not? 

I want to be the kind of parent that lets the Claytons of the world figure out how to play soccer with their feet in their own time.  I want to be the parent that doesn’t demand it has to be today.  I want to be the parent who can keep cool even when I feel like they *should* know how to do it different.  I want to be the kind of parent who gives up her shoes without thinking about it.

I love winter solstice rituals because I’m not big on winter or the dark.  Recognizing and celebrating the shortest day of the year makes me feel like it’s ok, it may even be useful and it reminds me it will pass.  I like that “from the darkness into the light” imagery. 

I used to go to a winter solstice get-together at one of the big ol’ churches in Toronto.  Everyone sat in benches in a circle with a candle and called out things, people or issues they wanted to remember.  It was beautiful and moving.  I didn’t find anything similiar in Halifax when I moved here, although I understand one of the local studios did something this year.

Honeybunny and I used to do something at home regularly and then we stopped after Angus came along.   But I felt the urge again yesterday.  We haven’t been consistent with all the elements except for 3 questions: 1) What are you grateful for from this past year?, 2) What do you want to let go of from this past year? and, 3) What intention are you setting for this coming year? 

It had been a busy afternoon and evening so last night we skipped all the possible soltice elements and just answered the questions for each other.  It would have been powerful just writing them down, but there’s something uber-powerful about saying stuff to another person and being heard. 

And it’s funny because HB and I talk all the time, but it’s not the same.  We talk in those clipped practical sentences that parents probably everywhere do.  “I have zero thoughts on dinner”,  “what’s up with that kid?” or, “when’s cocktail hour?”

It felt so good to be heard that I’m grateful for Leo and love him like crazy but am *really* looking forward to moving past the “all baby all the time” routines of having a nursing newborn in the house.  I’ve had quite enough. 

My intention is to find some balance in the coming year between my jobs, my passions and my family.  I know it will be absolutely impossible to find a thing called “balance”, but I at least intend to work on recognizing and addressing the imbalances to keep things from being completely out of wack. 

Then we had a good talk that turned into a useful discussion on strategies to use when Angus goes into zombie mode.  The times when he’s energetic and pushing boundaries and you try to stop him and he turns and looks at you with completely vacant eyes and then goes back to whatever he was doing that you were trying to stop.  At those times we try to get him to stop and listen but it’s an uphill battle for a five year old zombie and we agreed last night that maybe we need to lower our expecations. 

Do you remember the SNL skit “Lowered Expectations”, the dating service for less attractive people?  It’s kind of the parenting version of that.  Maybe we just need to hope that in this moment we can get him through zombie mode without hurting himself or much else and then enjoy him again when he makes it out the other side. 

Maybe we need to try distaction or involve him in something we’re doing so we make use of the energy in ways that don’t involve him breaking all his toys.  One day I’m sure we’ll know exactly what to do, or the secret to avoiding it.  But until we’re wise and all-knowing — lowered expectations. 

I keep telling HB that we d0n’t need to fix stuff with him *today*, we have 18 years of parenting this kid to get it right.  I’m trying to convince myself too.  It’s hard not to be focused on The Things My Kid is Doing That Makes Me Crazy.  When there are lots of things he’s gotten past because we were actually successful at talking him out of it, or he simply outgrew it. 

For example, he doesn’t eat toothpaste or dig in his nose half as much as 6 months ago.  We need to remember that too.  I’m convinced that trying to take the long view is the best way to remain calm.

I’ve been barfed on a lot recently too because Leo’s had a stomach bug.  But I never could have written about it quite this eloquently.

You know, the lousy thing about babies is that they keep your from getting all your stuff done.  The best thing about babies is that they’re an awesome excuse.  Before you even get out the whole sentence, “geez I just couldn’t get that done, the baby was fussy”.  The person is going “oh yeah of course no problem” because no one wants to be seen blaming a defenseless baby for the fact that you can’t get anything done. 

And then I chuckle inside and give Leo a kiss for getting me off the hook, again.

It’s been a common theme lately because my to-do list is long and there’s a lot going on and I’m often too tired to do much about it.  But I’ve realized that when I get overwhelmed and freaked out it’s a sign to Stop and Take Care of Myself.  Stopping work on the to-do list doesn’t seem like a logical way to deal with it does it?

But it’s always about my to-do list.  It gets all the blame.  If my to-do list wasn’t so freakishly long I’d be calm.  But I’ve finally come to realize that it’s me.  And if I’m feeling freaked I need to stop doing stuff and deal.  That means eat lunch, take a nap, do some yoga, get outside, take a bath, breath.  It does not mean work until midnight on my stuff or freak out at my family until they leave me alone so i can get more done. 

Because when I’m feeling overwhelmed and freaked I am not that productive.  When I’m tired and dragging my butt around everything seems 12 times harder.  So it’s best to deal with how I’m feeling because when i feel better it gets done much more effortlessly.  And sometimes with more creativity and fun. 

And you know the really crazy thing?  When I feel good I’m more forgiving about whether i’m getting stuff done.  I’m better at saying, “oh well, it’ll get done sometime”.  Leo gets blamed much less often.

I liked Sally Kempton’s article on this topic in the last Yoga Journal.  It was about how taking the time  for our yoga practice gives you more time.  It doesn’t seem logical either right?  But her point is about how yoga takes us out of the “busy-ness” mind-set and slows us down enough to really focus and get things done.  Slowing down rather than racing around in a frenzied sprint, so that we can focus on the important things.  And forgive ourselves for the rest.

 I’ve been trying to get Leo into a schedule.  And it’s the hardest thing to do because it’s like herding babies, he’s still going to sleep when he wants for as long as he wants, there’s really only so much I can do about it.  But I do it in the hopes that he’ll sleep better which will then help me sleep better.  Which will grealy improve my quality of life.

So it means I lose my footloose and fancy free lifestyle of doing what I want and just hauling him around. I wake him up religiously at 7, even though I’d rather let him sleep so I can enjoy my coffee in quietude.  My schedule is his schedule and that’s just the way it’s going to be for a while.

I only clued in yesterday that the time was changing.  So this a.m. in my sleep fogged state when Leo made sounds at 6:00 a.m. (yesterday time) I thought - I gotta get him up to get him on the new time.  So we got up, I fed him, made coffee and changed him.  Then I got Angus up so that he would have an easier time getting up for school tomorrow.  Then I sat down with my coffee and went to change my watch and realize I’ve totally screwed up.

I’ve gone the wrong way.  I was thinking 6 a.m. was 7 but it was actually (gulp) 5.   I’ve woken my kids up way way way too early and now realized they’ll need to stay up late to get on the new time schedule.  And Angus is in that 5 year old stage of talking non-stop.  Even when he needs to pause to find the words he needs next, there’s no pause, there’s no silence, there’s “Mom”, “Mom”, “Mom”  Until I want to say - “yes, i’m listening, because WHAT OTHER CHOICE DO I HAVE???”  but i don’t. 

And so here it is.  It’s the crack of dawn,  it’s dark and rainy outside,  the baby is making happy screamy sounds,  the 5 year old is talking non-stop, I’m barely awake and i realize it’s going to be the longest day of the year.  The Longest.

And I”m really cheesed off at myself for this.  I don’t mess up this royally all that often.  And i don’t mean that as an ego thing, it’s a control freak thing.  I keep my life fairly controlled so that I can maintain the illusion that I’m in control.  Which is why being on baby’s on-schedule schedule is so hard.  But really, the control thing is such an illusion.  It’s only partially true.  Because life happens all the time.  Floods, economic downfalls, baby’s “schedules” and time changes.

But even though I was cheesed off at myself I reminded myself that it doesn’t change who I really am.  You know, life happens but I”m still a roughly organized person whether I mess up the organization or not.  And it’s ok.  Time to let it go and move on.  

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, the who I really am stuff.  Because being  a parent of a baby is so intense.  There’s Baby Management stuff going on all the time.  It feels totally consuming.  But having been through it before I also know it won’t last.  It feels like Who I Am, and it is, I will always be a parent even when my kids are adults, but not  like this.  I will get more of my life back.  My youngest son will one day be able to do stuff for himself.  But for now I’ll enjoy the longest day of the year.

I got a decent night’s sleep last night and can’t believe how amazing I feel.  I get things done.  I sing to my baby.  I laugh at stuff.  And the scary/crazy thing is, I realize how much I’m a better parent with  a decent sleep under my belt.  Things roll off my back.  I’m able to take a long view.  With no sleep I’m thinking, OMG how long is Leo going to do this annoying thing?!  This sucks!  This will kill me!  Like say, his recent routine of sleeping during the day for 45 minutes at a time, and sleeping at night for two hours or less at a time. 

And I go to some parenting website to look up sleep for his age and it inevitably crows - “Your baby should now be sleeping through the night!  Or at least he *could* be.”  The subtext of which is, “and if he isn’t it’s because you seriously suck as a parent.  The experts agree, you’re doing it WRONG”.

And with sleep I say, hey whatever.  This won’t last forever.  It’s guaranteed he won’t be doing this as a teenager.  Yes, this too shall pass.  That’s called the mantra of parenting.  The fact is, kids do crazy things all the time, but they switch it up regularly to keep you guessing.  And I should know, because I’ve been through this before, but I forget.  All the time.  Especially when I haven’t had enough sleep.

Me:  Angus, what was your favourite part of school today?

Angus: Ummm.  Ummm.  Lunchtime.

Me: Great, was it being with the other kids and eating your lunch or playing on the playground?

Angus: No, just eating lunch. 

Me: Yeah that’s a highlight of my day too.

Angus: Oh, there were two favourite things at school today.

Me: What was the other?

Angus: Eating recess snack.

I had a couple days last week of feeling *really down*.  Wow, if this is what Post-Partum Depression is like it really sucks.  I couldn’t let go of anything, everything was bugging me, doing much of anything felt like too much.  There’s been a lot going on.  Angus has started school and when I watch him print his name, I think - oh my god we should have been practicing more of this.  I suck as a parent.  And I try to remind myself that he’s starting Primary and not writing his LSATs but last week I was feeling too low for it to make much difference.  

And then Leo’s newborn schedule just wears on me.  Most days I’m doing everything every two hours and by dinnertime its getting seriously old.  It’s physically exhausting crouching over the crib shushing him for what feels like hours.  By the end of the day I think  if I have to put this kid to sleep one more time I’ll rip my eyes out. 

Sometimes I put him in the truck and go do a short errand because he goes to sleep great in anything with wheels and it’s one less time I have to do it.  And then I think how can I complain?  He’s such a good baby.  (Although I hate that term, what’s the alternative - Bad Babies??  Do they wear black eyeliner and leather and crawl around committing acts of vandalism?)  But then I feel shitty that I’m feeling shitty and so I have to stop trying to talk myself out of it.  I can only remind myself, he’s a random newborn, this is how he rolls, you’ll figure it out.  But the two days last week, that didn’t really help.

Nancy on Weeds actually had a “I suck as a mother” moment towards the end of the last season and she does absolutely suck as a mother.  I think that’s one of the reasons I like the show, there is no Perfect Mother Mythology operating there.  The only other time she showed any regret was when she was ordering a gift basket for Silas’ 18th birthday as she was leaving town and said the card should read “thanks for raising yourself”.   But she’s just recently had a baby on the show, so it turns out the moments of doubt happen to everyone, even TV characters.  I’m loving that show and can’t wait to find out what will happen with Tijuana mayor boyfriend, or Gangster Baby Daddy as Alannis Morrisette’s character calls him.  And hasn’t she been great?  I thought she was pretty new to acting and to be pulling off those sex scenes is pretty gutsy.

But anyhoo, HoneyBunny reminds me when I”m catatrophizing that that’s not really like me.  He says, “don’t get all PPD on me!”  He’s just terrified of being responsible for two kids while his partner wanders around like a freaked out zombie.  And who can blame him.

It still feels weird to say kids plural,  how did this happen exactly?  And it’s funny how quick your sense of things change.  We dropped Angus off at a sleepover recently and stopped to have dinner and Leo slept through it.  At one point we were having way too much fun enjoying our relaxed pizza and beer and I said, “isn’t it weird how when you have two kids, having only one kid with you is like having no kids?”.  And HB somehow knew what I meant and agreed. 

Another thing that changes is your perspective on gas.  Before parenting a baby you don’t want to know about anyone’s gas preferably not even your own.  But when you have a baby and he has an unhappy belly and you hear him fart you’re like - yaye!  a fart!!  Who knew you could get so excited about gas?  I want a tshirt that says “I heart baby farts”.

But I am getting more into the swing of things.  I’ve now placed blankets for laying Leo down in strategic places around the house - on a kitchen counter corner for making caffeinated drinks and meals.  On the table where we eat meals and where I drink said caffeinated drinks while I try to remember what day it is.  Also on the computer desk for checking weather, email and writing this blog post. 

He will also lay on the big bathroom bathmat while I shower or wash my face.  He loves it there.  And I don’t need to understand it, I just know to take advantage of it.  I think he associates it with taking his own bath which he loves.  He will lie on the bathroom mat for some time cooing at the garbage can and practicing his kicking and punching.  The kid has an awesome right hook at 2 1/2 months, who knew.

So now Angus is going to school tear-free and is being taught to print his name by seasoned professionals.  I’m reminding myself that I have 18 or so years to figure out what makes Leo tick and in the meantime I promise to try to have better posture while I shush him to sleep.  And I’ll be grateful I don’t have PPD for more than 2 days at a time.