love – Jenn Sheridan

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

My parenting philosophy

I read this great post from Positive Parenting over the weekend and had that moment of tension I always do whenever someone takes a parenting stand. Even this list of facts that supports things I believe in left me feeling either judged or uncomfortable on behalf of the parents I know who philosophically disagree with one or more of the concepts those facts were supporting. While I have strong opinions on just about everything there, I know there is only one rule I hold all parents to, one unequivocal parenting should: Love Thy Children. After that there’s a short list of “probably shoulds,” things I feel pretty strongly about but understand there are instances where it just doesn’t work out, and then there’s a much larger list of “what I decided for myself,” which I feel equally strongly about but know there are arguments to be made in many different directions.

This is what I know for sure: parenting is personal. It is the most personal thing you will ever do. There is a surreal amount of (often conflicting) information available today on just about any parenting decision you could possibly make. But you also have to take into consideration your child, and oftentimes yourself as well. What works perfectly for one parent (who is absolutely convinced it is the right way for everyone!) may end up being completely useless for you. You have to decide for yourself who you are as a parent, observe who your child is, and do what works best for you as a family.

I believe you also have to be flexible in the moment, and be willing to let go of things that used to work in order to try out new things that might better fit where you and your child are today. To paraphrase Eva Roodman: “If it’s working for you, keep doing it until it isn’t any more, then do something different.” We have a saying in our house: “That was SO five minutes ago.” It helps to remind us that our boys are always changing and that we need to shift with them, paying attention to where they are now, in this moment, as opposed to wherever they might be coming from. I think both the universe and our children have great senses of humor, and whenever we start to get locked into something rigidly, they all laugh at us and say, I guess it’s time to show them again, eh?

So as a mother, I’ve developed what appear to be guidelines. Very little is hard and fast, but it’s like I’ve set my own boundaries. Each new decision I make may show up differently, but still operates within that framework. Not surprisingly, it’s very similar to the framework I was living within before I became a parent.* Each “tenet” could be its own blog post (and perhaps I will flesh these out in the upcoming weeks), but here’s a brief peek at how I view the world as a mother:

Follow your intuition. It doesn’t matter what the books say — you have everything you need as a parent right here in the form of your intuition. Go with what resonates. This is most difficult in the middle of the night when you’re sleep deprived with a short-circuiting brain, but always the most important thing you can do.

Children are people, too. From day one, your child is an independent human being with her own wants and needs, which may end up in conflict with yours. Your child is almost always telling you what she needs. You might not always be able to hear it (see “short-circuiting brain” above), but those behaviors that are most likely to cause that short-circuiting are her ways of telling you what she needs. Now, whether or not you’re able to do anything about it in the moment is another story.

Look through the symptoms for the cause. Crying, hitting, throwing — these are symptoms. If you can find the cause, you’re much more likely to both be able to stop the challenging behavior, and increase the connection you have with your child, enabling him to be more secure and confident and, ultimately, happy. “Good” behavior is just one of the happy side effects.

What would LOVE do? My husband once said that the first three rules of our household are Love, Love, and Love. I couldn’t agree more! Whenever we start from a place of love, what follows next is always good. Now, let me be clear — love does not mean being permissive. Children biologically and developmentally need you to set limits, but I choose to enforce those limits from a place of love.

Natural first. Whether it’s about breastfeeding or babywearing or clothes made from organic cotton, my instinct is to start with the most natural choice. It doesn’t always stick (Spider Boy hated to be worn and was almost always “stroller boy”), but the natural world provides us a good model for this parenting journey.

Choices, choices, choices. Life is full of choices, and we are constantly making choices whether we’re aware of it or not. I try to recognize that I can make conscious choices in each moment, and I try to provide choices to my boys so they can begin to recognize the power of choice in their lives.

When your first instinct is to say “no,” ask yourself “Why?” The more a child hears the word “no,” the less meaningful it is. Whenever I hear myself starting to say no, I ask myself where it is coming from. Sometimes it is obvious, like when danger is imminent. Other times I’m just too exhausted or overwhelmed or short-circuiting or whatever it is to really be able to say yes — while I may wish things were different in that moment, I have to work with what I have. But sometimes a “yes” response would be just as valid. It might not match my ideal picture of the moment, but that’s okay. I turn the moment into a win for my child, which ultimately is a win for me as well.

Take a step back. It is so easy to always be in your child’s space, literally and figuratively. There’s that amazingly soft hair begging to be stroked, and that almost overpowering need to put an end to any frustration he might be experiencing. But they’re little people who need their space just as much as you do, space to figure out who they are, how the world works, and how they fit into it.

Always do your best. This is based wholly on The Four Agreements (Don Miguel Ruiz). Your best today may look different from your best tomorrow; it is changing from moment to moment. But focusing on doing your best with what you have in the moment enables you to parent in freedom, without self-judgment or regret.

All things in moderation. There’s nothing wrong with letting your child watch an episode of Angelina Ballerina (Spider Boy’s current fave) or have a cupcake at a birthday party, but you probably don’t want her watching 4 hours of television a day or eating cupcakes with every meal. I think the flip side is true as well. I would struggle with a complete ban on television because we all need a break every now and again, and while our best efforts to introduce Spider Boy to the joys of chocolate have failed, exploration of food comes in all shapes, sizes, and flavors.

So that’s the, ahem, brief summary of my parenting philosophy. How it manifests on a day-by-day (or even moment-by-moment) basis is always changing, but the big picture remains the same, beginning from that place of deep and abiding love. Namaste.

* If you’re interesting in reading more about my life philosophy, here’s a good series from my woefully out-of-date blog on Learning to Fly (now on this blog): Steps to Learning How to Fly.

Originally posted on Pachamama Spirit

Love is all you need

When I woke up this morning, there was nothing to suggest that this day would offer up a zen parenting moment. Life since the baby was born has involved a lot of sharp contrasts, extreme emotions playing out across each family member in a variety of ways. Our two-year-old son has been the hardest hit, especially since we had to move a week after his baby brother was born. We have spent the 3+ months since then observing him very closely, following his lead wherever possible in an attempt to return a sense of stability and security to his world.

The word I would have used to categorize today was “overly.” He was overly tired, overly sensitive, overly frustrated. Despite this, we managed to eke out a few enjoyable moments during our Halloween festivities this morning, then brought him home for an early nap. Unfortunately, that nap got started in the car, often the kiss of death for the rest of the day. As usual, this gave him the false sense of a second wind, and just intensified the “overly” he had already been feeling. It took several hours, but he finally succumbed to a deep, late-afternoon nap.

When he woke up a couple of hours later, he was disoriented and out of sorts. I went in to him and just rubbed his back. He settled almost immediately and we stayed like that for a minute or two. He’s never been a particularly cuddly baby, so at one point I straightened and removed my hand. He started crying and got up on his knees, grabbing my hand and pulling it back into the crib. I got back to rubbing his back and just breathing with him. I asked him if he wanted to cuddle in my bed, a new favorite pastime of his that often doesn’t include much recognizable “cuddling.” He grabbed his hippo lovey and let me carry him into the master bedroom.

I was already feeling pretty blessed to have had such an intimate moment with him, and was expecting this to shift into a more familiar silly and riled up moment. But his energy was still really quiet and subdued, so I wasn’t entirely surprised when he wanted to lay down on me as his pillow. After a few attempts, we found a position that worked well for both of us — a half sitting hug of sorts — and settled into it. That is when the magic happened.

Simply put, I held him. My arms were around him, hugging him, stroking his hair, expressing my love wordlessly. My mind was fully and completely focused on him in this moment. While I did send him Reiki, mostly out of habit, there was much more of a sense of “being” rather than “doing” to this experience. There were no expectations, no wandering off into analyzing what this all meant, no trying to figure out what he needed and whether or not I was meeting that need. It felt like I was listening to him on another plane of existence, listening to his need with an inner ear and answering it with my energetic love. We just breathed in and out and hugged each other, occasionally shifting our weight to get more comfortable, but mostly just staying completely still.

We stayed there for what felt like an hour but was probably less than ten minutes. His dad came in with his brother and they curled up on the bed with us, but it was like we were in our own bubble. And at the end of that time, whenever he had finished refueling, filling himself up with the love being offered him, he pushed off of me and said, “Mommy, let’s go play.” And then he slipped off the bed and ran into the living room.

Young children are so pure, so uncluttered, so simple. I don’t want to confuse “simple” with “easy” or even “basic.” But generally, they wear their needs on their sleeves, and if you’re paying attention and have the right vocabulary and your own batteries are charged up, those needs can be relatively easily met. But those three things — paying attention, having the right vocabulary, and making sure your own batteries are charged — are the most often missed. The complexity we experience as parents so often lies in our own lives, our own experiences, and how we learn to balance our needs with those of our children such that we can both grow and thrive in that experience of love.

Before I started down this path of motherhood, I feared that becoming a parent would mark an end to my spiritual journey. I have learned so much in the last 2+ years, so much that has informed the way I walk this earth, and on days like today, I recognize that it was not only a beginning, but perhaps the only way for me to truly experience the divine. Today I was blessed to experience true grace. As my son ran off down the hall, I was filled with both gratitude and the desire to share my spiritual journey once again, this time from the perspective of mother. Thank you for joining me on this blessed journey!

Originally published on Pachamama Spirit