Wellness Wednesday: The One Decision I Regret Most

“I wanted to forget that I’d ever felt that momentary joy preceding the horrifying loss of my one and only pregnancy.”

By Tara Rodden Robinson |Twitter: @tararodden 

When I went to church this past Sunday, I grew a little tense. It was Mother’s Day and I usually avoid any public observances that include motherhood. It’s not that I have a bad relationship with my mom—in fact, quite the opposite. It’s that Mother’s Day reminds me of an inescapable fact: I am not a mom.

Just the other day, I got treated to big dose of all the mom-ness that I am not privy to. I had been invited to a mid-week happy hour–a drinks with the girls evening. I arrived at the bar early so I could sit and sip my wine in peace for a while, just to enjoy the sensation of having nothing to do and nowhere to go.

When my friend arrived, another woman rose from a table across the room to intercept her. I knew this was going to happen—my friend had told me that she’d invited others to join us—and I knew that probably all these other women were going to be complete strangers to me. No big deal: I’m good at meeting new people. What I didn’t know was that all the women at the table had kids in the same Montessori school. Yep, it was a Mommy’s Night Out.

To be honest, my non-mommyness didn’t phase me. At least not at first. The conversation didn’t revolve entirely around kids. We talked about other topics, like one woman’s impending divorce and her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s complete meltdown. And when they learned that I am a productivity coach, the group became positively enraptured, asking me all sorts of questions about time management and such. But then the dreaded moment arrived.

“How old are your kids?”

I paused. Swallowed.

“I don’t have any kids,” I replied.

Cue the crickets.

“Oh!” she said, finally.

I didn’t realize how truly awkward that moment was until a few days later when I received—no lie—a handwritten letter of apology from the person who’d invited me.

Damn.

Looking Back

It’s not that I never wanted children. I was just very ambivalent for a long time. Plus I was waiting for the right time: the time when we had a stable income and health insurance. When we finally got around to trying, I was 38 years old. It took me three years to get pregnant. And in my eighth week, I miscarried.

It felt as if my heart had been ripped from my body. I spent weeks doubled over with grief. And when I wasn’t howling in pain, I was in my office, working as usual, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. I didn’t (and still don’t) understand the shame that came with the sadness. Why should I be ashamed of myself? I hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet for the longest time, I wanted to forget that I’d ever felt that momentary joy preceding the horrifying loss of my one and only pregnancy.

My aunt, one of my mom’s younger sisters, tried to comfort me. The little book she sent told me, “never doubt that you are a mother.” Of course, I know this is bull****. Mommies have actual children. For me, no child equalled not a mommy.

Do I sound bitter? I don’t mean to. There are many things about my life that I love. I have a lot of happiness, joy, abundance. There is only this one thing that is missing.

In Hindsight

I wish I could go back and talk to my still-ovulating younger self.

I’d tell her that there is never a right time to have a baby. I’d kick her butt and tell her to stop second-guessing her heart’s desire. And I would tell her to throw out her birth control pills and get herself pregnant.

When I look at my younger friends, the ones wrestling with the same ambivalence about being a mom, juggling the same timing issues and looking for that just-right moment, I want to take them by their shoulders and shake them until their teeth rattle. I want to yell, “When you’re fifty and menopausal and highly accomplished, the only thing that will matter to you is your family. Please, for goodness sake, have one!” If they didn’t call the cops first, would they get the message?

I wonder how my cocky twenty-something self would have reacted to such a visit.

I hope with all my heart I would have listened to me.

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Dear SheLoves readers, take a few moments to consider these questions:

• If I got a visit from my twenty years older self, what would she most want me to know?
• The heart’s desire I am second-guessing right now is …

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About Tara:

Tara Rodden Robinson is an author, coach, and educator. Known as The Productivity Maven, she blogs at tararobinson and tweets @tararodden. She lives in Corvallis, Oregon, with her husband and their two dogs. She is working on mastering complex yoga poses and searching for the perfect gluten-free bread recipe. When she’s not writing, coaching, or teaching, she’s out in the wilderness hiking and watching birds.

Tales from the Parenting Trenches: The Serious Work of Child’s Play

“Play that is self-directed, unstructured and free is critical to children’s social, emotional, and cognitive development.”

By Sabrina Connell | Twitter: @sabrinaconnell

Last weekend, our children bounded through the house, pretending to sell colored Easter Eggs to imaginary individuals. They accessorized themselves with an odd assortment of hats, fanny packs and clipboards and called out orders, moving in and out of each room with gusto and finesse. At times, they played their game “together,” making up rules and scenarios. Other moments, when their own agendas proved too strong for any compromise, they played a solitary version of this same game. It was beautiful listening to their squeaky little voices echo back and forth across the halls as they took on “adult” roles.  This good, ole-fashioned type of pretend play is serious business. Play that is self-directed, unstructured and free is critical to their social, emotional, and cognitive development.

More time spent in fantasy play has been associated with increased levels of self-control, improved social and emotional skills and academic achievement. When children pretend that a wooden block is a cell phone or when they discover a new purpose for a rock in the back yard, they are practicing the discipline of imaginative thinking and priming their minds to tackle new ideas. Such thinking is essential in higher level math and science, where individuals are required to imagine possibilities, concepts, and connections that are impossible to see physically. When children take on roles and pretend to be someone else, they are practicing perspective-taking and empathy. Engaging in this type of role-playing with others allows opportunities for children to solve problems, work through disagreements and practice kindness.

What, then, can we do as parents to make sure that our children reap the benefits of free play?

1. Make time and space for unstructured play. In a time where children’s days are structured by the demands of standardized testing, rigorous academics and numerous opportunities for organized sports and activities, it seems as though opportunities for free play are gradually slipping away. In wanting to provide opportunities for our children, we seem to forget how healthy a good dose of boredom can be for them. Boredom can drive children to make something out of nothing, to explore new ways of playing with old toys, and to create elaborate, imaginative stories.

2. Allow play to be undirected and child-led. In doing so, children are wonderfully empowered. They step aside from their positions as children and allow themselves to become police officers, superheroes and parents, making up rules that support their roles and their stories. The reknown Russian psychologist Lev Vygotsky suggested that, in play, a child stands taller than himself, above his age and ordinary behavior. It’s as if he’s climbing up a ladder and looking around at a larger area. Psychoanalyst and child psychologist D. W. Winnicott believed that free play allowed children limited by their size and development to be able to delight in magical control and omnipotent feelings.

3. Participate! Playing offers reciprocal benefits. When caregivers engage in playtime, they earn receptivity from their children. In other words, the more you participate in child-led play, the more likely they are to listen to you outside of playtime.

It seems so simple doesn’t it? And yet, I’m amazed to meet so many mothers who run themselves ragged by driving their children to some sort of club, sport, or organized activity nearly every day, girded by the worry that ceasing from so much activity would cause their children to miss out on some fantastic opportunity. Of course, our own children participate in their share of sports and clubs. However, I’m convinced that boredom and free time are some of the greatest opportunities we can provide our children!

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So, my SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear: 

• Do you find it challenging to make space for free play in your family routine?
• Which play-time activities do you most enjoy participating in with your children?

Are you interested in learning more about play and its role in development? Here are some more great resources:

•  PlayScience on Pinterest 
• A Child’s Work: The Importance of Fantasy Play, by Vivian Gussin Paley
• The Power of Play: Learning What Comes Naturally, by David Elkind

___________________________

About Sabrina:

An artist-turned-academic, Sabrina spends her days navigating between a wide variety of roles including that of mother, wife, graduate student, researcher and daydreamer. She is currently a doctoral student in the Communication Studies program at Northwestern University where she researches the various ways in which children and parents engage media and technology and the potential effects these interactions might have on the development of children. Prior to her time at Northwestern, Sabrina earned a Master’s degree in child development from Tufts University, as well as a Master of Arts in puppetry from the University of Connecticut. She has a passion for all things involving play, whimsy and the art of nurturing.

On Beauty, B cups and Believing Our Way Back to Innocence

Seeking Eve Monday

“I wish to battle against the perspective that some people are ordinary and others are great … I really believe people can live ordinary lives in extraordinary ways.”

By Christina Crook

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Every woman who has given birth knows this is no ordinary feat. Yet, we are quick to reduce the enormity of our task to a brief remembering, a quaint vignette.

The truth is, every day we do the extraordinary.

We scrub floors on chaffed knees. Treat man, woman, child with dignity, with care. We climb corporate ladders. Extend our hands to the weak. We speak up when it’s uncomfortable. Rise at 3am to feed our babes.

We lead protests.

Carry petitions to the seat of Parliament. We train young eyes to seek Heaven. Deliver lasagna to the family next door. We watch for signs of Spring erupting all around us.

It’s extraordinarily normal women, like Andrea Dunbar, who make the world go round.

I first met Andrea in her tidy little bungalow in New Westminster, BC. The same house where her daughter Eden, was delivered by her father, a nurse, on the bathroom floor. The same home where the kitchen was full with the scent of fresh baking and the living room brim with the found and the made.

When I first asked to share Andrea’s story she declined, feeling she lived too much of a conventional life. For years I’ve hoped for a change of heart. This month, upon my return to British Columbia’s snowy interior, I got my wish.

“I regret my response to you when you [first] asked me to do this … I wish to battle against the perspective that some people are ordinary and others are great. I really believe that people can live ordinary lives in extraordinary ways,” she says from the small town of Mackenzie, where Andrea and her small family are spending the year with her in-laws.

While her husband, Robbie, works at the hospital, she is trying out homeschooling and getting out into the great outdoors with her two kids as often as possible.

Andrea is a public health nurse. When we first met she worked on Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside at a clinic that served many prostitutes and lower income women. Each workday she’d bike the 50-kilometer round-trip.

To those around her, Andrea is a source of inspiration, quietly challenging them with the daily choices she makes.

“She is very conscious of her stewardship of this earth,” says her friend, Renice. “In a way that is not at all brash, she makes every effort to care for the earth and the people in it.

She goes beyond recycling. She uses only cloth diapers, buys local and keeps her home organic inside and out. Aside from all that is “green” related, she supports local talent, whether it be art or music and quietly engages others to do the same. She loves to surround herself with all things beautiful even if it’s as simple as a single flower.

Andrea is a modern-day Eve. Seeking to live as a daughter loved by God, desiring her Father’s purposes, longing to look more like Jesus.

___________________

In her own words …

Faith to me means … growing.

What I mean by that is … the people of faith that I most admire continue growing throughout their lives. When I was at Trinity Western University, 10 years ago, and thought I knew everything, the buzz word that I and my friends never wanted to describe us was “complacent.” When I was in university, I also greeted strangers with, “Did you know that Jesus loves you?” While my approach to people has changed–or “grown”–over the years, I still feel just as strongly about not becoming complacent. Knowing that I will continue to grow and learn, helps me look forward to getting older, despite the pervasive North American disdain for aging.

One of my favourite songs describes the Source of growth, life, beauty:

All this pain

I wonder if I’ll ever find my way

I wonder if my life could really change at all

All this earth

Could all that is lost ever be found

Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things out of us

All around

Life is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos life is being found in You

-”Beautiful Things” by Michael and Lisa Gungor

When I was little I … didn’t want my dad to touch me. I have a photo of my bewildered dad trying to pick me up. I am about 12 years old, my face is red, I am crying and my arms are folded self-consciously over my chest. My dad was a man of integrity and was simply trying to connect with his daughter in a playful way. However, my trust and innocence were destroyed by another man in my life, a close relative. He was a very religious man who preached that Christmas trees were idols and girls needed to wear dresses to church. At the same time, he touched and kissed me in sexual ways. When I realized that he was the reason that touch from my dad felt threatening to me, I had to mourn all those lost years when I could have felt safe in my dad’s hug or touch. I now feel grateful for God’s work of restoration and rescuing in my life despite the darkness that tried to bury me in fear and confusion. I still have so much to learn about accepting love from my Father.

My days are filled with … the voices of two special little people. I have a video clip on my iPhone that was taken by my daughter a few days ago. The video shows a side view of me with my head tilted down at a book and my long brown hair shielding my face. The sound track is her sweet little voice,

“Hi Mama! Mama, look! It’s me, Eden. Mama … Mama, look!”

At this point I move for the first time to look up with a dazed smile on my face, “Hi, how are you?”

When she showed me this video, we laughed together. I couldn’t believe how profound it was to see me through her eyes.

I wish … I could say that was my first delayed response to my kids. But it wasn’t. It happens far too often. Sometimes it happens when I am *gasp* texting or looking at Facebook. This little video has made me so much more aware of what that looks like to my kids.

On a larger scale, I also wish that the demand for child and women sex slaves and pornography would stop. I want this generation of boys and young men to be different than so many of their fathers. I want this generation of girls and young women to know how beautiful they are and to know that beauty is so much more than skin and shape. I raise and educate (home school) my son and daughter with these hopes. I am so grateful for the honourable example of my husband, Robbie, and my dad, Fritz. These men infuse hope into my life for a world that has more justice, peace and love for women.

Today I give myself permission …

- to have moments where I feel like a terrible mom and know that He makes beautiful things out of the dust.

- to be 5’3” with funky glasses, long straight hair, ‘athletic’ build, A sometimes B cup breasts, little white bumps that keep popping up on my face including one that is right at the corner of my eye, dark moles all over my body, and fair skin and to feel beautiful, confident and loved.

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Would you like to add your story to Seeking Eve Monday?

We’d love to hear your story. Please share it by emailing Christina at seekingeve[@]gmail.com

To find words for your story, try following these lines, as Andrea did:

Faith to me means [community / hope / food / sacrifice / art / etc] …

What I mean by that is …

When I was little I …

My days are filled with …

I wish …

The thing is …

Today I give myself permission …

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About Christina: 

Christina is a Toronto-based writer whose articles on culture, religion and technology have appeared in Vancouver, UPPERCASE and Geez magazine. She, her husband and two young children attend Grace Toronto Church. She is the founder of SeekingEve.ca and blogs at www.christinacrook.com.

I’ve Never Been Married, But I Have Been Divorced

“I’m not married and I’ve never been married. I have been divorced, however.”

By Ashley Mandanici | Twitter: @ashleymandanici

My parents split when I was 10 years old. Although I’m sure it was nothing nearly as devastating as the split between Barbie and Ken last year, it quickly became the lens through which I began to view my life.

I can never claim to understand how either one of my parents felt, but I can say with complete confidence that divorce separated me from my parents as truly as it separated my parents from each other.

All of a sudden I was living with two adults who were trying to reclaim their long lost youth, at the same time as I was being confronted with the reality of my own. As I entered my teenage years, I realized it wasn’t getting any easier. Nothing is more damaging to the fragile ego of a teenage girl than when her mother goes on more dates than she does.

Being the Child

Divorce is strange and unnatural for everyone involved, but I dare say it is more foreign to the child. Both parents have lived life without the other at some point, however for the child, being distanced from their parents is an altogether new experience. It’s hard for a child to see his or her home being broken, even if the home looked broken before divorce entered the picture.

In Mark 10:13-16 we read the story of Jesus blessing the little children:

“Then they brought little children to Him, that He might touch them; but the disciples rebuked those who brought them. But when Jesus saw it, He was greatly displeased and said to them, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.” And He took them up in His arms, laid His hands on them, and blessed them.”

“I needed someone to push through the crowd for me.”

In his book Woman Though Art Loosed, Bishop T.D. Jakes makes a fascinating observation: “It is interesting to me that just before this account took place in Scripture the Lord was ministering on the subject of adultery and divorce. When He brought the subject up, someone brought the children to Him so He could touch them.”

When my parents divorced, they determined the best way to deal with their child was to assure me they would always be friends, and to take me to a counselor. I am sad to say, however, that neither of those things proved very comforting to me.

I needed to be dropped into the lap of my Savior, not dropped at the doorstep of a counselor. I needed someone to push through the crowd for me, not so that I could receive another sermon, but so I could rest in the protection of my Savior’s arms.

Now, I am not here to bash on counselors, or bash on the divorced, and I am certainly not here to judge anybody else’s decisions–Barbie and Ken included. My purpose in writing is simply this: whether you are 10 or 50, whether you are a parent that is divorced or a child that is divorced, I pray that the first place you find yourself at any time of great pain and loss, is in the presence of your Savior.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• Have you been affected by divorce?
• How have you made sense of it?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

__________________________________

About Ashley:

My name is Ashley and I am the Children’s Ministry Coordinator at Relate Church in Surrey, B.C. My mission is to develop the God-given potential in every child who crosses my path *Insert Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All” here*. I love all things jazzy, particularly music, and I tend to break into song throughout the day for no apparent reason. I blog here and tweet @AshleyMandanici

I Like You Just the Way You Are

Tales from the Parenting Trenches

“In modeling compassion towards our children, we may teach them to be kind to themselves. We can help them develop the courage to be imperfect.”

By Sabrina Connell | Twitter: @sabrinaconnell

The past two weeks have been particularly challenging for me as a mother. Recently, my five-year-old son has taken his desire for autonomy to a new level that has reduced me to tears and gripped me with a churning stomach, dripping in sweaty frustration. I have had the overwhelming feeling that while I may love him, I haven’t necessarily liked him.

Downward Spiral

Together, my son and I have been pulling one another into an awful downward spiral of irritability. The more frequently he tantrum-ed, the more quickly I responded in a harsh manner–even when he may not have deserved it, which inevitably left him more likely to tantrum.

On and on the cycle continued.

After a long, drawn out match between us last night, I realized that my efforts to correct him had left him feeling bad, not with regret or remorse–which may have spurred a behaviour change–but with the feeling of being vulnerable, weak and disliked.

I’d failed to make it clear that it was not him, but his behavior that irritated me.

Perspective

Once I had time to step away from the heat of the moment, it occurred to me that his actions may have been the result of his insecurities  over changes in his preschool situation. He’s adjusting to an additional classroom, a different teacher, and a new set of peers. He’s feeling the turbulence that comes with change. Even as an adult, I hate being “new” because of the vulnerability that comes with it. How much worse is that feeling for a child whose identity and sense of self are just beginning to form?

A young child’s sense of self-worth develops slowly over a period of time and is strongly influenced by the behaviors of those individuals who are most important to her. Those who believe they are a source of joy and delight for others are more likely to develop a positive self-concept.

If a parent’s frustration consistently leaves a child feeling incompetent, it is likely that those feelings may become central to that child’s sense of self. Children confirm how they should feel about themselves by absorbing how others feel about them, and how a child feels about himself in his early years can set a pattern for the rest of his life.

School-aged children, in particular, are often consumed by the question: “Do they like me?”

Imperfection allowed

By nature, we are all flawed and vulnerable, yet we are designed to desire the approval of others. It’s important for our children to realize that imperfection is okay, that when they are unpleasant, they are still loveable and likeable.

Dr. Brene Brown, a professor of social work at the University of Houston, says our job is to look to our children and say, “You’re imperfect, and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” In modeling compassion towards our children, we may teach them to be kind to themselves. We can help them develop the courage to be imperfect.

I missed my mothering mark this week and forgot to show compassion. I missed an opportunity to remind my son that I liked him, despite his flaws. Can one lousy week ruin his self-esteem and sense of self? I doubt it, but admittedly I have some damage repair to do. I need to work towards a discipline of maintaining my own composure and enforcing a consistent consequence when he acts out. In my case, this means walking away and allowing myself time to decompress before engaging in negotiations with him. I also have to be conscientious about balancing my critique of his behavior with positive and affirming statements.

Fred Rogers, ended each episode of his television program Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood by saying to his young audience: “You’ve made this day a special day just by being you. There’s no person in the whole world like you and I like you just the way you are.”

These have become my go-to lines with my own kids. Of course they’ll need updating as my children age, but for now they seem to work.

At the end of the day, I am the only mother on the planet that has the pleasure of embracing my kids–no other mother gets to experience them. When I consider that, I feel immeasurably grateful.

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So, my SheLoves sisters, I would love to know:

• What practices or routines do you use to remind your children they are likeable and worthy of love?
• What parenting challenges have you been experiencing?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

____________________________

• View Brene Brown’s TED Talk
• For more Fred-spiration, check out my favourite song of his, “It’s you I like.”

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About Sabrina:

An artist-turned-academic, Sabrina spends her days navigating between a wide variety of roles including that of mother, wife, graduate student, researcher and daydreamer. She is currently a doctoral student in the Communication Studies program at Northwestern University where she researches the various ways in which children and parents engage media and technology and the potential effects these interactions might have on the development of children. Prior to her time at Northwestern, Sabrina earned a Master’s degree in child development from Tufts University, as well as a Master of Arts in puppetry from the University of Connecticut. She has a passion for all things involving play, whimsy and the art of nurturing.

Tantrum image from thestir.cafemom.com

Imperfection image from flickr.com

Soul Sunday: On Kids, Dreams and Empty Fields

Memories of summer, driving down the Oregon coast + kids dreaming of rollerblades + watching a farmer plough, but never plant. 

By Kisa MacDonald | Twitter: @kisamac

Everyone recognized us in our old van.  The seats were plaid: yellow, orange and green.  The hard top roof was over ten feet tall. Daydreams and old radio tunes would rise over the grumbling engine. My entire school could see us coming.

Every mid-summer, we would travel south and watch sunrises over the sand dunes. We’d sink into the back seat of that old van, watching the Oregon coast unfold: Astoria, Cannon, Tillamook, Newport, Eugene … to visit some old friends in a little town called Sweet Home, Oregon.

We saw real poverty.  On those summer days in Sweet Home, the kids played–as kids always do–with no shoes, but in unpaved streets and unsafe homes. Recognizing hunger, we filled up our old van with groceries, and went door-to-door, giving it all away.

Mom taught us in simple ways how to recognize and value the dreams of others. She used to take each child aside and ask: “If you could do anything in one day, what would it be?”  The kids’ answers were always pretty simple: rollerskating, a new dress, a trip to the beach, a long bike ride, etc.  So, we all piled into the van and took them rollerskating, bought new dresses and went to the beach. We did everything we could.

The Farmer

Mom told me this story, once. When she was completing her undergrad degree, she would sit and watch a farmer who lived across the road. He regularly tilled the soil, turning back and forth across his field.  But, he never planted anything.

The farmer’s field is now a new park in suburban Victoria. No crops were ever planted. No playgrounds have been built.  Forty years have passed and it still sits empty. We laugh together at the paradox. Like, really?

Lately, our old van and that old farmer have both been coming to mind. I have been thinking about what it means to put something into motion, gain momentum and establish something that will become a long-lasting legacy.

I have a few ideas.

It always brings me back to Sweet Home. Poverty is not limited to that one little American town.  All of our hometowns have kids who play without shoes, or three meals a day.  All those kids have dreams of what they would do one day.

A few months ago, the BC Child and Youth Advocacy Society released the 2011 Child Poverty Report Card.  The numbers are intense: 137,000 children live in poverty in BC.  To put this in perspective, that is double the entire population of my hometown.

Like those old radio songs, kids’ poverty has only been vaguely recognized. Like, the farmer in the field, who ploughed but did not plant anything, we have not done everything we could.  Can anyone explain why?

_________________________

About Kisa:

Kisa completed her law degree earlier last year and is currently finishing her articling year at a non-profit that focuses on law reform, legal research and outreach. She grew up on Vancouver Island but has lived all over: North America, Southeast Asia and Europe. In this next season of life, she hopes to see creative community and access to justice established in Vancouver.

Image credit: Wanderlust, by Hermés

TGIF: Precious Pixels + Handwritten Letter + Sun + Fine Art Print + The Help

By Tina Francis, with Danielle Hardy

Hiiii my beautiful SheLovers!

[cups your face in my hands and smushes cheeks]

I’ve missed you! *** (I, as in Tina}

Sorry for going MIA. I just got back from a two-week work trip to India. Writing TGIF from the road was near impossible while juggling jetlag, an intense travel itinerary and spotty access to the internet.

So, my friends Ashley and Trinity (and new SheLoves friend Laura), saved the day (as friends often do) and did an awesome job of bringing you TGIF while I was away. I loved getting a glimpse into the Top 5 things they hold precious. Reading their posts made me realize that there’s great value in having more women share their voices. Less is not always more.

It’s like my undying of love of popcorn. I chomp through fistfuls of the stuff like a rabid dog foaming kernel dust (salt) at the mouth. Now, I like classic movie popcorn without butter. But I also love: white cheddar, dill, kettle corn, ketchup, etc.

My friends bring their unique flavour to popcorn … errm … I mean TGIF! So you will be seeing many more guest posts in the future.

Coming back to the business of this week’s post, I’m technically back in town, but still recovering from a severe case of jetlag. I put makeup on in the shower, get into imaginary heated debates with Gingrich on the skytrain and speak a hybrid of English-Aramaic-Hindi-Spanglish.

To spare you the gory details of my current state of lunacy, this week’s TGIF is brought to you by my friend Danielle of “What One Girl and Her Decals Can Do” fame. You’re going to love her!
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5 Things I love …

By Danielle Hardy | Twitter: @hardydanielle

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Confession: It took me WAY too long to put together five things I love. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t love enough things or if I just love too many things to encapsulate into words. I hope it’s the latter, because I want to love in a B.I.G. way. So, after much thought, I would like to share five things  I love and invite you into my heart and see what makes it swoon.

Precious Pixels + Handwritten Letter + Sun + Fine Art Print + The Help

1. Precious Pixels: I think Will Smith said it best in his hit single “Just the two of us …”

Oh man, my mom would be SO mad at me for sharing this picture, but I just love it with all my heart and it’s not because of my amazing style sense that I had as a child (although that floral shirt and black stirrup combo is quite amazing), but because it just so perfectly captures the relationship between my mom and I.

Her beauty was breathtaking. She definitely was no fashion expert, as the majority of her days consisted of sporting purple sweat pants, a northern reflection sweater(wolfscape included), navy patent shoes and a floral dicky (you know, those amazing faux turtlenecks from the early 90’s?), but her heart was so stunning. She always made time for me, loved me unconditionally, fiercely protected me, prayed without seizing for my soul and let me sit on her lap as much as I wanted and whenever I wanted. I spent countless car rides to school fixated on her lap as she was driving (something that is heavily frowned upon now for whatever reason).

It’s been 15 years ago since my mommy went to Heaven. She passed away from a two- year battle with cancer when I was 15 years old–three months short of my sweet 16. I look at this picture and remember my life with her in it: Safe, loved, encouraged and believed in. I can’t explain how much I miss this woman.

There’s not a doubt in my mind that if I had one more day on earth with her that I wouldn’t climb back on her lap and soak up her love and affection.

2. Handwritten Letter: Hello, LOVE LANGUAGE!!!

You can imagine my delight over this little treasure I found under the Christmas tree this year.

My son, Mattias, had the sweetest idea to make a present of his own to give to me: A beautiful letter expressing his four-year-old thoughts and love for me. He brought a blank piece of paper and pen to Daddy and asked him to write down what he said. [ MELT.MY.LITTLE.BLACK.HEART!!] I realized how much he watches what I do, studies what I say, and pays attention to what I spend money on

This kid is going to make a great GREAT husband.

3. Sun: Where are you?

I love the sun. Doesn’t matter if it’s humid sun, dry sun, 46 degree sun. I JUST LOVE THE SUN. It means flip flops and walks to the park. Frappucino’s and sunglasses. Happy, smiling people. Colour. Health (No vitamin D in the form of a pill). The sound of my kids playing outside. Camping trips. Walks to the beach. Windows in my house wide open. Blowing bubbles, impromptu hop-scotch with the kids and the sun setting at 9pm.

Please hurry summer … please?!

4. Fine Art Print: Inspiration

As a person that thrives on huge amounts of creativity I found this little number and immediately scooped it up off the internet with my handy dandy visa.

Loved the colours, design, femininity and the words kind of leapt off the page at me. I feel this to be true in my life. I used to despise those yucky and sometimes endless “winter” seasons that came in and out of my life. I see now, though, that they have brought me to where and who I am and I can appreciate the ups and downs that come with living life … that there is a beautiful summer after every winter. #seasons Buy here. 

5. THE HELP: The power of one; The power of many

I received “The Help” as a present from my hubs (who must know me so well to get this for me) a few months ago and couldn’t wait to read it. I sometimes find it hard to finish books, but I devoured this within 48 hours.

I love this story because it represents a person and a people who were willing to stand up for justice and what was right. They counted the gigantic cost of speaking the truth and telling their stories and they did it anyway. They didn’t know if their efforts were going to make any sort of change, but their voices were heard and they made a difference.

I love the power of one person willing to fight to create change and I love the power of a group of people joining alongside and do what they have in their hands–to use their voice and stand up for what is right. People willing to fight injustice with their sphere of influence and their God-given talents. #empowered #worldchanging

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Okay, that picture of Danielle’s mom? [hand on chest] LOVE. See what I mean? It’s amazing hearing everyone’s stories.

So, we’d love to hear from you:

- Do you have a picture you treasure just about as much as your holy book?
- What’s melted your heart this month?
- When you reach for some inspiration glee, what’s in your special drawer?

If you would like to write a guest post for TGIF, write to our editor (Mama-bear) Idelette or leave a comment below.

Love you more than crunchy-chewy-gooey chocolate chip cookies.

xoxo,
Teen
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About Danielle:

Danielle Hardy lives in Surrey, BC (we’ll refer to it as Cloverdale). She is a wife to Paul and mommy to two of the cutest “Hardy Boys” around. She is owner and creator of Urbanwalls, Etsy seller, Graphic Designer, aspiring blogger and thrives in awkward moments. She blogs a uwdecals.com and tweets at @hardydanielle

About Tina:
My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen.

Words are my chocolate. Music, my caramel. Photography, my bread. Girlfriends, my butter.

Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho. My dream lover *cue Mariah Carey song* is someone who would read out a menu to me in Barry White’s baritone voice.

I celebrate food, ask for help, interrupt conversations, laugh and cry hard, acknowledge the elephant in most rooms, fight for the underdog and believe in the power of storytelling.

My word for the year is “Enough.”

I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.

Tales from the Parenting Trenches: Navigating Life with “Spirited” Children

“Our son had so many tantrums as an infant and toddler that every family picture his older sister drew, depicted him with a purple face.” 

By Sabrina Connell | Twitter: @sabrinaconnell

I often tease that my kids are like Gremlins. Remember those little creatures? Feed them after midnight or expose them to water and you create a monster. Only in the case of my children, rather than food or water, the impetus for their transformation into tiny, unmanageable little creatures might be exposure to particular textures; or the word “no.”

I’m convinced children should come with warning labels. If they did, our son’s most likely would have said something like, “Prepare for disagreement. Tantrums resulting in head-banging and loss of breath. Fainting may occur.”

Our daughter’s would have read: “Avoid contact with moderate light or noise, clothing tags and seams.”

The early years of parenting are particularly challenging as the time is so often spent managing the intensity of our children’s most exhausting characteristics. We could always count on our daughter to become over-stimulated, overwhelmed and victim to her powerful imagination. Likewise, we could expect our son to collapse into a raging fit at least once during every outing. As I tried to maintain my composure and sanity, both compromised by sleepless nights and the constant soothing and attention the kids required through the day, I read every popular parenting book I could find that addressed “high needs” children.

In the book Your Fussy Baby, I came across a chart that the author, Dr. William Sears, had compiled, listing descriptive words parents use to label their young children during those more challenging years of nurture and reframing them as descriptive words for similar traits as teenagers and adults. I printed the chart and put it on our refrigerator, stealing away glances as I grabbed the milk, gently reminding myself to keep some perspective.

The Changing Personality Profile of the High Need Child 

The words you use to describe your high-need child will change over the years, as the traits that so exhausted you during infancy are channeled into qualities that will make your child an interesting, dynamic adult. Try to think of your child’s personality in a positive light and look ahead. Labels that seem like negatives will be positive traits in your child’s future personality.

[Download as PDF:  THE CHANGING PERSONALITY PROFILE OF THE HIGH NEED CHILD.]  Source: www.askdrsears.com

Of course, it all makes sense when we think about it. The traits that drive us most crazy about our children now, are often exactly the types of traits we’d like them to have as adults. Our son had so many tantrums as an infant and toddler that every family picture his older sister drew, depicted him with a purple face. Five years later, has he become less persistent? No. But he manifests that same persistence and passion now as an intense commitment to tasks, taking on challenging puzzles and working through problems rather than giving up.

Does his unwavering desire for debate drive me crazy? Absolutely. I would love it if, just once in a while when I ask him to do something, he’d respond with a “yes” the first time. However, I like to hope that the go-against-the-flow attitude he so willingly practices with me will one day translate into an ability to question the judgment and requests of his friends and avoid peer pressure. Recent research suggests it may.

When our daughter was in kindergarten, she came home quite disturbed after she witnessed a friend shove a raisin up his nose far enough to warrant a trip to the school nurse. Afterwards, our daughter avoided solid food for four days, subsisting on yogurt she would lick, before she came to us in a desperate panic asking to go to the emergency room. She was convinced a raisin was lodged in her own nose, accidentally shoved up there at some point when she may have missed her mouth while eating. I found myself sobbing with laughter before I could muster the seriousness I needed to calm her down and remind her that the raisin episode was something she had seen at school and not something she had done herself.

The sensitivity and imagination that overpowered her then, has since allowed her to be acutely aware of what others around her may be feeling. She demonstrates empathy beyond her years. Similarly, whatever internal mechanism caused her to respond so severely to clothing tags, seams and loud noises has opened her senses and allowed her to be moved deeply by music, poetry and beauty. I’ve come to think of her sensitivity as her own personal superpower.

When my children behave in such a way that leaves me counting down the minutes or hours until bedtime, I try to pause and consider how their behavior might benefit them when they are mature, self-controlled adults. It’s not an easy process. In the heat of the moment, when I’m frustrated by the fact that I’ve just spent the past 15 minutes arguing over which shoes my son will wear to school, I need to be careful that I don’t assert parental control in a manner that runs the risk of breaking his spirit just “because I said so.” Finding the balance between establishing boundaries and encouraging our children’s development of “self” takes practice and is something that none of us manages to perfect, but we can take comfort in knowing that the return on our investment is immeasurable.

For more advice on parenting spirited children, check out:

• Living with Intensity by Susan Daniels and Michael Piechowski
• Raising Your Spirited Child by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka

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Dear SheLoves readers, I would love to hear:

• Which of your children’s behaviors test your patience?
• Can you think of how their behavior might benefit them if channeled appropriately?
• What are some strategies you use to avoid being overwhelmed by those more challenging moments of parenting?

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About Sabrina:

An artist-turned-academic, Sabrina spends her days navigating between a wide variety of roles including that of mother, wife, graduate student, researcher and daydreamer. She is currently a doctoral student in the Communication Studies program at Northwestern University where she researches the various ways in which children and parents engage media and technology and the potential effects these interactions might have on the development of children. Prior to her time at Northwestern, Sabrina earned a Master’s degree in child development from Tufts University, as well as a Master of Arts in puppetry from the University of Connecticut. She has a passion for all things involving play, whimsy and the art of nurturing.

On the Other Side of Abortion: When Grace Tells Another Story

“I saw words that spoke of my potential, not my mistakes.”

By Daniela Schwartz | Twitter: @dannyschwartz

 ”He forgives your sins—every one.

He heals your diseases—every one.

He redeems you from hell—saves your life!

He crowns you with love and mercy—a paradise crown.

He wraps you in goodness—beauty eternal.

He renews your youth—you’re always young in his presence.” - Psalm 103:3-5 (The Message)

I wish I could come up with a story sad enough to justify my actions. A story that would tug at your heart and somehow make what I did, seem okay. Something that would justify my actions.

That’s not going to happen.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

We can’t rewrite our past; we only have today.

My hope is that in telling this story, it could change someone else’s story. That a woman held in bondage from her past would be set free. Or maybe change the way someone thinks about another person who has made the choices I have made.

I am talking about abortion.

When I was 15 and found myself pregnant, I was scared out of my mind. I was one step away from homeless and I wondered if there was a way I could keep the baby. In my ignorance I thought that because I drank alcohol one night, I had ruined the baby anyhow. So even if I had him, he would be damaged and how would I take care of him? At that time, I couldn’t even put a roof over my own head. I got the money for the abortion and ended the pregnancy at 15 weeks.

I wish my story ended there.

When I was 17, I was having unprotected sex with my boyfriend. At this point in my life, my heart was hard. I knew what the consequences could be, and didn’t care. The people in my world had let me down and I refused to love or be loved. I got pregnant, again. This time I did not hesitate to choose abortion. I did not want to end up a single mother. I definitely did not want to be tied to my current boyfriend for the rest of my life. So I ended the pregnancy at 19 weeks. Refusing to acknowledge the life that was in me.

When I was 20 years old, I found Jesus. I was told I was a new creation, cleaned from all sin, but there were choices I had made in my life that fired a war on my soul. I felt like certain things I had done in my life were too big for God. I was covered in guilt and shame. After two years I backslid from God and walked away for seven years.

Looking back, I still see God was working in my life. The very fact that I can write this today is proof of that.

I married when I was 27 to a wonderful man, and we were expecting our first child by our first anniversary.

Any mom, when you hold your baby for the first time, knows the wonder of the miracle that has taken place. The child that grew in your body. A life full of future.

When Owen was four, I wanted him in Christian school. Why this was so important, I can’t tell you; particularly when I was only attending church at Christmas and Easter. I requested a reference letter from my church and it was completed by an Associate Pastor who has known me since the beginning of my journey. She filled out my application and when she got to the part about my involvement at church, she talked about what she saw in me and what she believed for me. In that moment, I had hope. I really wanted God and needed him in my life.

I saw words that spoke of my potential, not my mistakes.

I got involved in serving and planted myself in the house and about eight months later, I recommitted my heart to Jesus. I learned that I could go through the motions, but until I opened my heart, it was impossible to grow. In my willingness to serve and be obedient to God, however, walking through the doors that were opening, I believe it allowed God to begin a work in me. The actions of trusting God with my life allowed my heart to soften enough to put my hope in Him.

So now Israel, what do you think God expects from you? Just this: Live in his presence in holy reverence, follow the road he sets out for you, love him, serve God, your God, with everything you have in you, obey the commandments and regulations of God that I’m commanding you today—live a good life. - Deuteronomy 10:12-13 (The Message)

Ryan and I had been trying to have another child since our eldest turned two. After several failed fertility attempts, we were diagnosed with “unexplained infertility.” I began to think of my abortions. The lives I had ended and the one I was trying to begin.

Condemnation and guilt entered into my heart and I was tormented by what I had done.

I began to feel like a con-artist. The life I was living, stolen. “I should be a single struggling mother,” I thought to myself. “I should have never met Ryan, and had my beautiful Owen. I should not have this beautiful life. It was my horrible choices that brought me here and I am a living fraud.”

I believed those words and they robbed my joy.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, (s)he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. – 2 Corinthians 5:17 (New King James Version) (gender included)

By the grace of God, I got pregnant at 35, seven years after my first born. I had my first ultrasound at seven weeks and saw that miraculous little heartbeat. At 20 weeks, I saw the miracle of our little baby in a 3D ultrasound.

I felt that tug at my heart, for my unborn children.

Grace.

We had a guest speaker come to our church, and it’s not that I hadn’t heard amazing sermons on grace, but I felt like this message was about me and my abortions and my life that God gave me. God spoke to my heart and truth resonated in me.

The hardest part of Grace, for me, was understanding it. When we truly understand the Grace we live under when Jesus enters our lives, we are not pushed to our knees by guilt and condemnation, but instead we gratefully fall to our knees in worship to the One who paid for it all. Jesus.

I don’t deserve this life I have. None of us deserve our lives. It’s by Gods grace we have a second chance (sometimes a third and a fourth). God saw across the oceans of time and saw me at 15, 17, 27 and 35 and loved me the same. The blood of Jesus covers my sins.

It is not that my heart doesn’t ache when I think of those babies; I sit here in tears thinking of them. It will always hurt, but I don’t live under condemnation. I have a new life by the grace of God. I know some of you may not understand and maybe have the urge to hurl a few stones my way, but I would bear the scorn of a thousand to help one person learn what it took me 15 years to learn.

Here’s more of what I learned: If you are recovering from an abortion, God knows your story and is still smiling on you; your child is in heaven with Him. God still loves you and always will. Your child still loves you. Jesus’ blood covered all of your sins. He covered every, single, sin.

And then he told me,

My grace is enough; it’s all you need.

My strength comes into its own in your weakness. -2 Corinthians 7: 10

If you can stand nowhere else today, let’s stand here: God’s grace is enough. Maybe it is not an abortion that keeps you tied up. Maybe it is something else you have made bigger than Jesus. Let’s know this together: nothing is BIGGER than God. In our weakness, God makes us strong. I love that.

God looks at us and loves us, just as we are.

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About Daniela:
Daniela is loving her role as stay-at-home mom. She loves Jesus, her husband and kids and jumps feet first into opportunities to serve in her community. Daniela lives by this statement, “Preach the gospel always, use words when necessary.” She loves to live life big and laughs a lot. She blogs with her twin sister Trinity at Lime in the coconuts.

When Having It All Means Letting Go of Something

“What if I were to fill my day only with things I’ll remember for years to come?”

By Claire De Boer | Twitter: @Britchic19

Lately I’ve been living the crazy life.The “let-me-squish-everything-I-possibly-can-into-my-day” kind of life. Why do I feel the need to do this? I think it’s because I don’t want to miss out. I kind of want to dip my toes into every pool of opportunity that exists out there.

I also feel under pressure to live up to some intangible expectation.

For me “having it all” means being a great mother, an attentive wife, the most successful writer I can be, a great friend, a work-out queen, a fashionista and a readaholic. And I want to achieve it all under the approving eyes of my greatest adjudicator: God.

Of course, the reality of “having it all” on a day-to-day basis actually consists of taking my children to their activities, school drop-off and pick-up, working on my book, marketing myself through social media (yes, necessary time on Facebook and Twitter), trying to sell my work, maintaining a blog, attending classes downtown, reading, hanging out with my kids, cooking meals, housework, working out, and, finally, spending time with my poor husband who seems to draw the short straw. And this is coming from a woman who doesn’t have to add a nine-to five job into the mix. I don’t know how those who do actually manage it. It’s exhausting. I think “having it all” is a pretty tough load to handle.

Out of Balance

I had a conversation with my mother-in-law a while back that stayed with me. She asked me why mothers nowadays never seem to have any time. She reflected on her younger days as a mother of three and remembered staying home in pj’s baking with the kids, dropping in on her friends (who were also home baking with their kids) and taking the time to see what the day would bring to her, instead of controlling every minute of it. Now, I’m not saying that my mother-in-law spent her days in her pj’s doing nothing, but the only time I have days like that, is when I’m sick. Something about that shouts ding-a-ling in my head.

How did this happen?

No one is standing over me, telling me to be all and do all; no one makes me take my children to several activities per week; no one makes me work out just about every day, and no one makes me connect with my friends via social media instead of in person.

And it doesn’t seem to just be me; I look at my friends, other mothers in the same season of life, and everyone is so busy. But do we really need to be that busy? My life is often so hectic I don’t have time for the people who matter the most to me.

I think the difference between my life now and my mother-in-law’s life thirty years ago is opportunity. I have so much more available to me and I am blessed because of it, as are my children. But I think if I don’t slow down and look up every once in a while, I’m going to miss the view.

Letting Go

I put so much pressure on myself to live a full and perfect life, but I’m beginning to realize that having it all really means letting go of something, or perhaps several things. Will my children be better off going to another after-school activity or staying home in their pjs and baking with mummy once in a while?

More than half my day is occupied with doing things that don’t matter, that won’t be important a year from now or even a week from now. What if I were to fill my day only with things I will remember for years to come? That’s the kind of life I want. There are only a few things that really matter to me: My family, my relationship with God, friendships and writing. Perhaps it may be naive to think I can live a life where I shut out everything except these important things, but I think that being cognisant of the value of each day and how I am spending my time, may just be enough.

As for my Adjudicator, as any parent knows, we want our children to be happy, not perfect. I know that when I stop to listen to God’s voice, he is asking me to slow down, let go and enjoy the beauty of a single moment.

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My dear SheLoves friends:

• What does “having it all”mean to you?
• How do you make sure you don’t miss the view?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

About Claire:

Born and raised in the UK, Claire De Boer is a writer, woman of God, mother and wife. She is currently working on her first women’s fiction novel and a collection of short stories. Claire is also a student of The Writer’s Studio at Simon Fraser University.

Image credit: Secret to Having it All quote, from MoneySavingMom.com via Pinterest