Everyday Yogini

Our vacation in Oregon is just amazing.  I am stunned by how beautiful and clean and child-friendly Corvallis is.  I am so grateful to have my family in such a perfect town!  Clara is enjoying a Montessori camp, swim lessons, and plenty of time with her cousins.  I am enjoying lots of creative time working on my new venture as a coach.  In fact, as an aside, I have finished my website and you can see it at Insight Life Design. A new blog is in the works and coming soon!

But I digress. I am finding as our vacation wears on, Clara has been having more frequent melt downs when she doesn’t get her way! Being around the grandparents can do that, huh? Tonight, Clara wanted to read a book but she was being SASSY. No book, sorry. She cried and cried. I told her we could talk about it when she was done, and I would be here for her. Eventually, she calmed down and I offered a hug.

In the moment of our embrace, in which her full weight melted into my body, I was struck by her smallness, by her vulnerability, by her absolute faith in me as her Mother. By her need for my love. My heart broke open even wider for this gorgeous little being that blesses my life. This Gatha came, almost fully formed.

For Clara.

When the tears are over and done,
I vow with all beings,
To let her rest on my shoulder,
Feel the weight of her trust in me.

How do your moments of challenge turn into moments of clarity? Tell me in the comments?

Thank you so much for your feedback on naming my coaching practice!  I am still rolling over the name aspect in my mind and I will let you all know when I have decided.  But for now, back to our regularly scheduled programming…

Me?  Impatient?  Come on…. hurry up!

Impatience is completely different from Art Boxes and Brushes.  Those types of situations are discrete and fixable in one sweet moment of clarity, whereas being impatient and a bit obsessed with being on time (in a country of perpetual lateness) is a condition of the mind.  Please don’t leave with the impression that this is a one time situation for my family that is now FIXED- this happens ALL THE TIME in some form or fashion.  The only difference is that I am learning, slowly, to be not quite so insane after this particular morning that I am about to share with you.  

Mornings can be rough at our house.  Depending on what time Clara wakes up, we are either a. rushed or b. super rushed.  From the Moms I’ve talked with, this is pretty typical.  And not fun for anyone.  

On the particular morning I have in mind, which was like any other, Clara and I were running on time, which felt late to me (as is usual). Clara was, in four year old fashion, dawdling while she got dressed and ready for the day, finally, putting her shoes on very sloooowwwwwlllllyyyy. It was all I could do not to put the darn shoes on her myself, but, I was still very much keeping my cool. As we made our way out the door, I was now feeling late with a capital “L”. Clara decided that is was a good morning to take the stairs on her bottom, which is a fun, but very, very slow (and annoying for me) way for her to go downstairs.

In an effort to get Clara to move faster, I barked (that really is what I did, as much as it makes me cringe) at her to stand up and walk down the stairs, emphasizing that we ARE LATE and MUST GO QUICKLY, RIGHT THIS INSTANT. Which of course, brought Clara to tears. Do you know what this meant?? If you are a parent, I am going to just assume that this has happened to you, too.

Well, it meant that then I was sitting on the stairs with my daughter dissolving in my lap, comforting a very upset little girl. Great. Now? We really WERE going to be late. Irony at it’s best.

In that moment, through my impatience and my irritation I saw so clearly that had I just let her go down the stairs on her bottom, we would already be in the car. I took a deep breath, relaxed my shoulders and assessed the situation. The sad fact is that we were NOT late by anyone else’s standards but mine, indeed, we were early for her school time. This need of mine to be on time is largely manufactured. I am fortunate enough to have a fairly flexible job - if I’m a few minutes late, it’s okay. Being on time makes me feel good, but at what expense? On this particular morning, it was clear that the expense was far too high.

After comforting my daughter and assuring her that everything was okay and apologizing for being grumpy with her, she began to walk very quickly down the stairs, saying to me, “Mommy, hurry! We are late for school…” Which I found sort of funny and sort of heart-breaking, in a jumbled up sort of way. I DO want Clara to value other’s time by arriving when she is supposed to. I DON’T want Clara to feel like she has to rush everywhere. This is not clear-cut, this is about balance and taking a relaxed attitude and knowing WHEN it’s important to rush and when it’s not.

Since this particular morning, our routine seems to have become calmer. I am consciously relaxing into the rhythm of our morning and breathing more deeply. I am working on staying curious in the morning, when I start to feel my belly tighten and my brain get wound up about being late. By asking the following questions, I can get the bird’s eye view instead of being caught in the brush of my busy thoughts:

Why do I feel impatient? Why is being early so important? What can I do to feel okay and still let Clara be Clara?

And, to round out the work I do with my thoughts, I have changed some of my actions to support a smoother morning. After giving it some thought, I now get up a bit earlier so I feel more present for Clara when she wakes up. I don’t check email in the morning any longer. I let Clara watch cartoons while she eats breakfast and I finish getting ready. So sue me. She loves the Italian cartoons - it’s language skills, people!

In any case, Clara IS my Zen teacher. By staying curious and open, we have the enormous gift of learning to be better versions of ourself through our relationship with our kids. Are there other situations with your kids where you find yourself tense that there might be a hidden zen lesson? Tell us in the comments…

And, happy coincidence, the first post in this series, about the Art Box incident has been published on Mothersource a resource for parents and families. You can access the article here. Thank you so much to Savannah for choosing my story!!

Tangles, Brushes, and Combs, OH MY!

Speaking of V8 moments, let me pick up where I left off. My daughter now has an art box that she adores and uses often. I am a better parent for developing a deeper level of curiosity about who she is (instead of who I think she is). This, of course, is all about mindfulness and being in the present moment, where creative action and change can happen. Another case in point is the hair brushing incident, as I fondly refer to it now…

One of the ways my daughter is significantly different than me is her hair. My daughter has beautiful, curly hair – golden brown ringlets that frame her face perfectly. I have short, straight hair and do not use a brush. In fact, I avoid brushes at all costs. Fortunately for Clara, she didn’t really start needing her hair combed until she was about 3. Prior to that, she didn’t have enough hair for it to tangle or do anything else, for that matter. Which is my sort of hairstyle.

Once her hair got long enough that it obviously required some regular attention and care, I tried a stupid baby brush with soft bristles. Nothing. All it did was create frizz and leave the dread-lock like tangles in place. So, I decided, on the spot, that using a comb to get tangles out (with water and conditioner sprayed on her hair first) was the best solution.

Never mind that my daughter screamed bloody murder when I would comb her hair – I thought she was OVERREACTING. After all, I would hold the base of small sections of her hair and then gently comb through the tangles at the end. Still, lots of heartache and frustration, every morning, for both of us (no, Erick NEVER combs hair – clear division of duty). We both dreaded the hair-readiness time of morning.

But recently all that changed. We were on an overnight trip and, in the morning, I was shuffling around, looking for the comb and realized I had forgotten the comb. I was cursing under my breath, because we were going to an event where there was a good chance newspapers were going to get pictures of Clara, as Erick was speaking. Italians like well-groomed children. And, I like moderately well groomed children. It just so happens that her hair was REALLY bad that morning, and NEEDED some fixing.

Since I am growing my hair out, I happened to bring a brush with hard bristles to tame my wacky bang cowlicks during blowdrying (that is the ONLY thing I use a brush for). In desperation, I sprayed Clara’s hair down and proceeded to brush her hair. Which I was CONVINCED would not work.

Two things happened:
1. The brush did, in fact, work. Beautifully. Actually better and faster than the stupid comb ever did.
2. Clara didn’t cry. Not one “OW” escaped her lips. It was the most peaceful hair brushing we’ve ever had.

As with the art box, I felt elation over this fabulous discovery (a brush!! A BRUSH WORKS!), and then felt a fairly overwhelming wave of “duh”. Why NOT try something different if the experience I’m having sucks and is totally difficult? Why? Because I’m human, that’s why. We all tend to keep doing things that support our beliefs, like “Hair brushing is painful and hurts and that is JUST THE WAY IT IS.” A silly example, perhaps, but obviously I was completely hooked by this and it took accidental forgetfulness to figure out it could be different. I do this to myself all the time, and I suspect that other people do, too, unconsciously.

Does any of this sound familiar? Are there any experiences that you have on a regular basis that are just downright unpleasant? Have you resigned yourself in a, “That’s just the way it is.” sort of way? The homework I’ve given myself since the brush incident is to notice when I am NOT having a pleasant experience and step back to evaluate whether there is a way for me to a. change the situation or b. change the way I think about the situation.

Care to join me? Have you had your own V8 moments? What “that’s just the way it is” experience would you like to change? Share in the comments.

Next up in this series: Me, impatient? Come on… Hurry up!

And, a quick note of gratitude… I was recently awarded a blog award by the lovely writer of Graceful Yoga. A heartfelt thank you for thinking of Everyday Yogini for your list…

“Our children, from infancy to adulthood and beyond, can be seen as perpetually challenging live-in teachers, who provide us with ceaseless opportunities to do the inner work of understanding who we are and who they are.”  Jon Kabat Zinn

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to call children teachers.  I can say, without a doubt, that having Clara has definitely schooled me, illuminating the myriad ways that I am internally broken, and how many dark, cobweb-y habits and beliefs I have to work on.  Since being a parent puts all these not-so-great things about me under a spotlight for my personal enjoyment (and work), I often have moments that remind me of the V8 commercials of my childhood, with the forehead slapping “Aha” moment.  In this series I will share three recent incidents that highlight a very common way in which I learn and change and become better version of myself:  being fully present in the moment (which, will be obvious from my story, is NOT often enough!)  

The Art Box

About a year ago, I decided to put together a special “art box” for Clara.  In this box was safety scissors, crayons, a small pad of paper and some star stickers.  Just an assortment of things that she could pull out and play with, unsupervised.  Things that all children love, and things I remember really liking as a child.  

I noticed about a month ago (a year after the fact) that she never, ever used her box.  We were in the kitchen, where she was gleefully helping me make dinner by dumping water from one container to the other.  I was thinking about the things IN the art box, when I realized that Clara had never really used crayons - not even as a smaller child.  So, I turn to Clara and I ask, “Clara?  Do you like drawing with crayons?”

In my adult-ness, I think this is an easy question and one she will be happy to answer, but she looks at me with panic-stricken eyes.  I say in response to this face, “Sweetie, I want you to LOVE all the things in your artbox - it’s YOURS and should have in it all the things you want to do art with!”  She looked at me for a long moment and after that pregnant pause, it dawns on me fully.  I asked her, point blank, “Clara, you don’t like crayons, do you?”  She looked at me with immense relief and said, “No, Mommy.  I DO NOT like crayons.  I like colored pens best!”  

I’m fairly certain that you are not sensing that you could have knocked me over with a feather in that moment- WHY didn’t she just tell me?  WHAT did she possibly think would have happened? And then, I looked at my own lack of awareness.  I was shocked that I had waited so long to ask such a simple question about my daughter’s preferences!   

We spent that afternoon putting all the crayons away for guests and filling her artbox with things *she* really loves: stamps, craft scissors, glue, and, of course, colored pens.  LOTS of colored pens.  Every single one in the house, in fact.

Need I say that I felt like a complete JERK MOM for NOT recognizing this sooner?  Although she is very verbal and engaging,  relying on her to express her likes and dislikes in that way is asking too much.  She is, after all, only four.  As the saying goes, “Actions speak louder than words.”  And this is equally as true for children, who are, really, just smaller people.  What a shock to really “get” that my daughter is not an extension of myself and my husband (surprise!!).  I loved crayons as a child, my husband was a colored pencil kind of kid (I found out after I asked).  This was a powerful reminder that paying attention and being curious about who she is in this moment is paramount to her well-being and happiness, and my success as a parent.  My assumptions about who she is are not accurate.  Obviously.

My intention going forward is to ask Clara before I decide (through the lens of my own preferences and experiences) what is good for her, knowing that experiencing  compassionate awareness, honesty, and presence from me will shape her ability to honor her internal compass as she gets older.  I am giving up my assumption that I “know” her and what she likes simply because I’ve known her since she was born.  And really, this applies to anyone and everyone in our lives.  The ability to effect change and connect with others happens entirely in this moment, what I like to think of as the creative present.  

What have you learned about yourself from your children?  Tell me in a comment! 

Next up in the series:  Tangles, Brushes, and Combs, Oh My!

You are a changed child, my sweet little guru. No longer a baby or even a toddler. Everyone who hasn’t seen you in a while comments on how different you are - how outgoing and happy and talkative you are. I nod, in agreement. You are, indeed, different.

On your last birthday, you were still in diapers, still nursing, and still attending a local, Italian daycare. We had just moved to Italy, and I was certainly out of sorts.  I suspect you were, too.  You stayed on at your Italian school, even though I had my doubts, and in retrospect, you were not happy there and I should have taken you out of the school. However, you would perhaps never have become so close with Nora, your best friend. You two are like peas in a pod… but I digress. Now, as you skip into your fifth year of life, you are diaper-free, most definitely do not nurse (although I think you would if you could…), and attend a little English school and interact with kids of all ages and nationalities, all day long. You take music one day a week and ballet one afternoon a week. You are so in love with your teachers, you can barely lift your shining eyes to them when they greet you, and then you run to them in joy and anticipation.

Last year I was terrified that you were going to be anti-social for the rest of your days as you played alone in a corner at the Italian preschool, but this year, your teachers tell me how well-socialized you are, how wonderfully you get along with the other children. You could have knocked me over with a feather when the headmistress told Erick and I that at parent-teacher night. You really ARE a different child, you see…

This last summer, you took your first strokes in the Ambassador’s swimming pool - with a My Little Pony in each hand.  The whole community of regulars who swim at the pool in the summer cheered as they watched you proudly swim into my arms!  You did it again, and again, and again.  You were so proud of yourself - and your Dad and I?  Proud doesn’t even begin to describe the heart-swelling excitement of watching you accomplish something as important as swimming on your own!

Fortunately for all of us, your temper tantrums slowly faded away at some point during this last year, to be replaced by energetic questioning, impatience, and a penchant for trying to shock Erick and I, most notably by using the swear words you (occassionally) hear out of us.  You are quite bossy, but you also very much want to please those around you and be helpful.  One of your traits that is most admirable is your willingness to share.  My toes tingle and my heart hums when I hear you offering a favorite toy for a friend to borrow.  I love your generous, open heart.

You are very busy and always talking.  Even in your sleep you are having little conversations.  At dinner, it’s a wonder that your Dad and I can get a word in edgewise.    Many people comment how your energy and enthusiasm makes them tired - I know what they mean, but I just adore watching you discover the world.  It’s inspiring, really.

As you march towards your fifth birthday, there are some things I want for you this next year.  More time outside, in nature - which isn’t all that easy in Rome.  Thankfully, a trip back to Oregon next summer for six weeks should fullfill that need.  You love you ballet classes and your music classes, which is wonderful, and I want to channel some of that energy into doing more Yoga with you.  I think you are old enough now that it can be more Yoga-like.  We’ll see.  I run hot and cold on having you help me in the kitchen - but I want to involve you more consistently.  And honestly?  I think it’s time for some set chores, because Mike does everything for us and you know what honey?  He’s not going to be with us forever.  In two years we will leave here and we will likely never have someone doing our laundry, shining our shoes, and generally making our lives simpler and more graceful ever again.

Okay, maybe I’m saying that more to remind myself, but, seriously, when you talk about laundry or cleaning, it’s always, “Mike takes care of that - it would be SILLY for us to shine our shoes!”

As we close the door on your fourth year, I am grateful that we made it.  Honestly I found 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 to be most challenging.  Who knows if that is because we were in the middle of a huge transition or if it was just your age (or maybe MY age), but in the last six months, we seem to have come out of a dark time and I am so very happy to be enjoying who you are, your light and lively nature, your quirky, darling use of language (”We’re going to the zoo??  That’s so EXCITED!!!”).  The way you point to things as if you are a game show host, with your eyebrows raised, how serious you are about your part in the school Christmas play (you are playing the part of a flamingo), and, most of all, your sweet and earnest assessment of the world around you.

I think now that I am working and we’ve settled into a routine, you feel much more secure.  It’s hard to say if it’s just time passing and your age, or if you just really love your school and your new routine.  In the end, it doesn’t matter- I’m just so relieved that you are happy and content.  That is what I want most for you always.  Always Clara.  I hope that I never convey anything but that sentiment to you.

Happy Birthday my precious girl.  May this year bring you happiness, may this year bring you sweet friendships and wonderful experiences, may you feel safe and cared for, but most important, may you know that you are loved.

My daughter, Clara, attends a British school. It’s the sweetest school and the teachers are awesome. I couldn’t be happier with the situation she is in, the opportunities she is given, the kids that she calls her friends.

In addition to getting a great start in her education, Clara is also now beginning to speak the Queen’s English. Aside from the pronunciation differences, she is correcting me when I use American English!!!

Example:
me: “Clara please throw that in the garbage.”
Clara: “Mother, it’s called the BIN.”

Oh, okay. Really, what can you do with that except just start calling it the bin?? And this is just one of many words that have changed in our household…

So, I actually think it’s pretty cute that Clara is picking up British English. However, the other day, someone asked me if it bothered me that Clara was speaking differently than Erick and I do. I was a little puzzled by the question - really, should I be worried about this? We will eventually move back to the States and she will go back to speaking American English. Simple.

Would any of you be bothered by your kids speaking with a different accent?

Oh, and can I just say, that I LOVE the way she pronounces “Yoga” in her new-found accent! Brilliant!!

I am back!

It felt like the fastest trip ever, but I have a secret. Well, not for long.

After the initial shock of Clara’s tears and getting out the door, I had a great time. I enjoyed thinking about Clara, but I didn’t miss her. At all. Hey, after almost five years (if you count belly-time) of togetherness, it was time for a break. I’m pleased to report that Clara was no worse for the wear and, dare I say it, enjoyed herself tremendously having some one on one time with Erick. And Erick? He’s pretty proud of himself for keeping Clara put together for a whole four days. He didn’t brush her hair the whole time, but a man’s got his limits. I can grant him that.

The flights were long and the food was bad, but, I managed to watch some films that kept me entertained and, I actually laughed out loud during a few of them… I had ample time to meditate and did so. I have a great body-scan meditation loaded on my iPod which is terrific when I am really tense and can’t relax (I don’t find airline seats conducive to relaxing deeply. Maybe it’s just me!). I highly recommend it to anyone who would like to start a meditation practice, or if you travel a lot, it’s a great way to relax in-flight.

I had the luxury of staying with friends who were so sweet to accomodate me! I had a nice space where I did Yoga when I woke up at 3am both nights due to jet lag… how lovely to stretch out and drop into the body when it’s feeling a little kooky due to time zone changes!

Finally, I put the whipped cream on top of my visit by having an Accupuncture treatment with Kate. I can’t recommend her enough if you are in the DC area. What a tasty treat before getting on a long-haul flight…

Clara was awake when I got home and I was as thrilled to see her as she was me. It’s wonderful to be home, but it was wonderful to be away, too. And now, I’m sure next time will come sooner than later.

This morning, in the flurry of activity before leaving the house, I stopped of course, to give a special goodbye to Clara. She cried, “Mommy, I don’t want to miss you!” ,needless to say, it was a tearful departure for both of us… Thank you for the good thoughts for a safe trip. I’ll be back soon.

Clara likes to take my face in her hands- to get my attention, to give me a kiss, to tell me important things.  Sometimes, when I am distracted or talking with another adult, it bothers me.  Other times, I think it is the dearest thing and I wonder how long she will persist with this habit.  

One night, as I was watching her sleep (as we parents often do, no?) I noticed her hands and I was just overcome with how amazing they are- how they keep us connected to each other in so many ways.  I don’t claim to be a poet, but that night, I wrote the following poem for Clara, and those little hands. 

Little Hands 

Little hands,
Tucked neatly underneath
Your sleeping chin.

Little hands
Reach eagerly toward
My face, eyes shining.

Little hands,
Turn magnetic letters
into words- WORDS!

Little hands,
Wrap fingers tightly
Into mine.

Little hands
Grow so much bigger,
Doing so much more.

Little hands,
Hold forever
My humble heart.

-Nona Jordan 08/08

Yes, it’s true.  For all of my disbelieving friends in Colorado who witnessed my enthusiasm when I bought the supplies TWO years ago, I put this project to bed today.  Finally.  And I have the pictures to prove it.

Unfortunately, my success has brought more projects to add to my list. Clara has asked for:

1. Purple and pink dresses for dolly
2. Wings for dolly (any suggestions, crafty Yoginis?)
3. A blue pony for dolly (like we don’t have enough ponies, huh??)

Rain has arrived here in Rome, so it was a good day to finish this project. I’ve been dreading putting the hair on the doll. I finished the body and head of the doll about a month ago, but the hair was the most difficult part. I am so happy to have it finished! For the moment, Clara is carrying it around, but, even if it is shoved off into a corner, I will put it away and save it so she can have it when she is older and can appreciate that her Mom made her a special dolly… who knows? Maybe a future granddaughter will get to play with it.