gift – Jenn Sheridan

Spider Boy and Bean Revisited

I took a hiatus from blogging this past year for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was postpartum depression, but perhaps the greatest reason has to do with the constant learning curve of being a Stay-At-Home-Mom. New to this job last May, I had this idea in the back of my head that I would master it like I had mastered all of the for-pay jobs I’d held over the years. Those of you who have been parents a lot longer than I have are probably laughing now. Yes, I really was that naive. Even if my boys weren’t the spirited bundles of energy they are, all children are constantly changing in those early years of life, constantly reinventing themselves and discovering the people they will ultimately become. That means as parents we need to be constantly shifting our expectations and perspective, all while creating a sense of consistency that will provide our children the necessary support they require to thrive through this process. When you’re doing this 24/7, well, let’s just say that the only thing you can “master” is surrendering any idea that you’re in control of anything, or that any one day will bear any resemblance to another.

As I was contemplating a return to blogging, I thought about how the names Spider Boy (now 3.5) and Bean (now 20 months) no longer seem to apply. But once again, I realized it was because I was comparing their current iterations to who they were when those names came in to being. After shifting my perspective, I discovered that they’re still a great fit, even if it’s for dramatically different reasons. Spider Boy has turned into a grand storyteller, spinning intricate webs of fantasy in which he attempts to entrap us all. Bean has turned into a climbing vine, always in search of the highest point in any room, the highest available shelf, the highest slide on the playground, reaching for the sun. The one thing that remains the same in all of this is that these boys are my greatest teachers, my greatest inspiration, my greatest gifts. I am truly blessed. Namaste.

Originally posted on Pachamama Spirit

The Guest House

Show of hands — how many people think Rumi makes for good bedtime reading? As I was reading “The Guest House” to Bean last night as part of our bedtime ritual, I had to wonder — am I the only Mum who reads Sufi mystics to her baby before bed? When Spider Boy was wee, I would be reading him these meaningless books that didn’t even rhyme and he would be enraptured. I wondered if he would know the difference if I swapped out the standard fare for something with a little more substance and flare. By the time I asked this question, he was already really into the pictures and starting to get into the stories, so I was a little late. But I am starting early with Bean, curious about the result, and tempted to go so far as to create illustrations to go along with some of these mystical writings to elongate the process. I love the idea of my 18-month-old reciting Hāfez alongside Sandra Boynton.

“The Guest House” seems especially appropriate, as its subject is in complete alignment with the experience of a baby or small child. I’m reminded of quote from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, “We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” Our little ones were oh-so-recently pure spirit, and they are having to adjust to the human experience. This learning to be human is hard, full of challenges that begin with the physical and only get more complex as they become emotional, intellectual, or spiritual. But, as Rumi points out, these challenges are gifts, if we can learn to embrace them.

Who knows how the experiment will end. In the meantime, at least I get to be reminded of some wisdom as I tuck my own little gift into bed each night. Namaste.

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

Originally posted on Pachamama Spirit

Love~n~Hugs

“Remember that you don’t choose love; love chooses you. . . . Feel the way it fills you to overflowing then reach out and give it away.” ~ Kent Nerburn

The other night, I was home alone with both boys at bedtime — while this becomes a little less daunting with each passing week, it still has its challenges. I can easily get caught up in worrying about how I’m going to get Bean down to sleep, planning out how I’m going to juggle everything, needing things to go a certain way. Anyone with a toddler (or heck, another human being) at home can probably guess how well that goes. But Spider Boy is one of my great teachers, and this night, as with so many nights, he granted me the gift of the present moment.

Spider Boy’s bedtime routine goes something like read a book, change into an overnight diapers and pajamas, read a second book, say good night to the lights, and then, since he’s moved into his toddler bed, your guess is as good as mine, but eventually he falls asleep. When it’s just me, I nurse Bean while I read (if he’ll let me) and let him hang out in the toddler bed or on the reading bed (i.e. the queen bed that’s in Spider Boy’s room) while I get Spider Boy into his nighttime attire. At 5.5 months, Bean gets more mobile every day, so this arrangement makes me nervous and I tend to have half my attention on each boy during this process, much to Spider Boy’s chagrin. He often shows his frustration by attempting to do something he knows will get my attention (i.e. climb up onto the changing table and dance), but if one or both of us is at the aware end of the spectrum, he simply asks for my love. On this particular night, during a not-unusual pajama struggle, I laughed in an attempt to diffuse my own frustration and shift the energy in the room, then leaned over and gave him a big hug and a kiss. He thought this was funny and asked for another big hug. We both laughed, and he asked for another hug. We both laughed some more, and he asked for another hug. I lost track somewhere around 30 hugs as we were both giggling and my abs were sore from bending over the bed to give him his hugs and kisses. Bean watched us with his beatific smile while chewing on a blanket (I may change his name to Cloth Boy), and I sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for the love and joy of this moment.

See, Spider Boy is smart — he has figured out that love is something Mum is always willing to give. And I guess he comes by those smarts honestly, because I have figured out that I have an infinite supply of love available with which I can feed his need. Of course, we stumbled across this knowledge by accident one day when Bean was just a couple of months old and the three of us were at the grocery store. Bean had fallen asleep in the car, so he was still in his carseat in the back of the cart, and Spider Boy was sitting up in the cart’s seat. The novelty of being at the store had worn off and he was getting antsy, so he was turning around and playing with Bean’s blanket, trying to get him to wake up. I tried asking him to stop and asked him not to wake his brother, but he insisted that he needed his brother to be awake. I took a deep breath, and guessing what this behavior probably meant, I tried a different tack, asking him if he just needed some attention, and if he wanted a hug. He thought about it for a moment, then reached out his arms. I leaned in, gave him a big hug, and told him I would always stop to give him a hug, he just had to ask.

It was a slow trip through the store that day with stops for at least eight more hugs, but all three of us left happy. Bean got his much-needed newborn rest; Spider Boy got the attention he was craving; and I learned that love really can shift behavior. It’s a point I reiterate to him frequently, and I practice what I preach, literally dropping everything for hugs. Does Spider Boy use this to delay eating/getting dressed/climbing into the car/going to bed/etc.? Sure, although not as much as you might expect. Do I mind? No way. Because I love him, and he knows it. And nothing is more important than that. Namaste.

Originally posted on Pachamama Spirit

Roller-coasting

You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster . . . Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride! . . . I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it. ~ Parenthood

I am on an emotional roller coaster these days. Today is my little Bean’s 4-month birthday. He is such a sweet delight, and brings me so much joy. But this is an anniversary of mixed feelings as it denotes that I am returning to work next week.

Whether or not to be a working mom could be, I’m sure, the subject of many posts. This is not going to be one of them. But this experience is an opportunity, like so many opportunities, for anxiety to rise up, along with all of my niggling doubts (and self-doubts), and the full range of my emotions to spill out of me (often onto those around me). But it is also an opportunity, like so many opportunities, for me to practice my craft, practice connecting to source, practice trusting that what is best for all of us is manifesting in our lives right now, practice staying present to the now instead of wandering off into what is still yet to come.

The practice, however, is not always my first stop these days. Sleep deprivation and not taking enough time for self-care (not necessarily in that order) have left me a little rough around the edges. After I nursed Bean back to sleep at 3 o’clock this morning, I could not fall back asleep myself. He and his brother had spent the whole day at daycare yesterday, and I was struggling with how little time I got to spend with either of them that evening. Not because of the evening itself, but because I was worried that this is how it is always going to be moving forward, and I was anxiously trying to figure out how on earth I was going to ever be able to spend enough quality time with them to satisfy me. *sigh*

I won’t bore you with the ugly details of the next couple of hours. Suffice it to say I worked myself into a lovely lather before the practice kicked in. But finally, I was able to come to a place where I could honor the emotions I was feeling (fear, sadness, and love, oh so much love). I gave myself permission to not have to be the absolutely best mom/wife/daughter/manager/colleague/friend for a little while. I remembered that what happens next week is next week’s opportunity for practice, and that today all I have to focus on is, well, today. I breathed in the intoxicating smell of baby and looked deep into his joy-filled eyes and enjoyed that single moment, and then the next, and then the next, and remembered that I don’t have to spend all day, every day with him to have these divine moments.

Parenting is a practice. It is not the easiest practice I’ve encountered, but it may be the most effective. It triggers such intense joy, but also all of my doubts and fears. And behind every trigger is an opportunity to release and let it all go and come back into the present moment so much more aware, so much more appreciative, and so much more joyful. As I write about today’s roller coaster, the emotion that most strongly comes to mind is gratitude. Today was a gift. Ah, thank you! Namaste.

Originally posted on Pachamama Spirit