Parenting: A Pandora's Box

Today as I try to escape my restlessness and growing anticipation of waiting for baby, I decided to read back through some old journal and blog entries. I think this is one of my favourites and really resonates with what is still to come as baby number 2 arrives on the scene.

I have to report that while not much has changed with regard to my son's new clothing phobia, we have found some pretty creative ways to work through it!

I am now emerging from what feels like the seventh circle of parenting hell - the extended tantrum. My son generally has quite a sunny disposition. We have been blessed with a creative, loving, engaging child with a magical imagination - and a huge stubborn streak. While this capacity to cling to his convictions may serve him well through the upcoming years of peer pressure, a few short days away from his 5th birthday, his one track mind has called up all kinds of questions for me about my capacity as a mother.

What began as a quirky trait has now morphed into an incredibly limiting habit. He hates new clothes! (This is how I know that he did not get this particular stubborn streak from ME! At least that is the trump card in the case I am making to my husband about whose DNA fostered this strange obession!)

Okay, I understand that this is a world where kids don't get much opportunity to exercise their personal power. Wanting my son to be able to express himself, I decided clothing is a place where I can give him free reign to make his own choices within seasonal boundaries. The resulting combinations might be dubbed Rag-Bag Chic if they were endorsed by haute couture. Problem his, his flat out rejection of anything other than sweatpants has taken on a maniacal overtone.

A few years ago we were on vacation in Ireland and by the last evening we had come to the end of clean toddler clothes. We had picked up some new items during a shopping trip a few days earlier and felt this would be an excellent solution for the special farewell dinner we were about to enjoy at local fine dining establishment. We approached my Napoleonic little emperor with caution knowing from past experience that new clothes were likely to evoke a frosty reception. He grudgingly put them on with the carrot of adventure dangling before him.

Once in the car with time to think he began to loudly voice his objections. After 40 minutes crammed in a European economy car with a screaming toddler trying and nearly succeeding in completely removing his clothes while strapped into a car seat (Houdini lives on!), we arrived at the restaurant with an inconsolable child, ringing ears and short fuses. At this point I thought, "Is it worth ruining an entire evening for everyone just because I want to have my kid in clean clothes? Was this more about my image as a parent than about my child's happiness and enjoying time together?" So I chose to relent and end the stand off by fishing out some dirty clothes from the trunk, all the while feeling contrite for having let my let my rules interfere with my child's empowerment.

Fast forward a few years and I now see that this is not a phase he has grown out of at all. In fact he has staked out his position very clearly and with tight little borders - very few items of clothing make it past his rigorous scrutiny. I had mistakenly assumed that as he grew older and had more opportunities to make choices that he would loosen his grip a bit on this one - NO WAY!

And this is where things have become a source of agony for me. As a result of his clothing obsession, he is now missing out on new activities. Activities that he enjoys but refuses to dress for. A case in point was last week's meeting of the local Beaver's troupe. He was having a blast at the meetings - until the uniforms arrived. He steadfastly refused to wear the vest. It all came to a head last Wednesday during the initiation ceremony when the kids receive a scarf. My son's tolerance for new clothing items hit overload and he staged a revolt. My frustrated husband, who is generally endlessly patient, ended up removing him from the meeting since it was clear that he was not going to budge on his position and it was causing massive disruption.

This is not the only place to pose a problem for him - there are special clothes required for skating, swimming, and a myriad of other adventures. Yesterday was the turning point when my son decided to dig his heels in while getting ready to attend a special dinner where a dress code was in effect. We had all been excitedly anticipating this event for well over a week. My son had choosen his clothes well in advance. It seemed like clear sailing until the moment of truth arrived and he refused to get dressed. This time, with the writing on the wall after the Beaver meeting fiasco, I took a stand. After some preliminary discussion, bargaining and ....I'm not proud about this one - threats.....I cancelled the event thereby unleashing the perfect storm of Pre-schooler revolt.

Now, I'm sure that many of you by this point think that either my son or I need some kind of psychiatric help and you may be right! But bear with me as I continue to make sense of this for myself as I think, that like many things in life, this is not really what it appears to be on the surface.Having had lots of sensations wash through me....actually "wash" is such a gentle term for the extended tsunami that has been roaring away.... I have largely moved through the many thoughts I have been having about how poorly qualified I am as a parent.

I had to first get past my embarrassment and then my irritation. Beyond that I ran smack into a pit of grief for my son's lost opportunities because of his inflexibility and inability to see the larger impact of his choices. I then felt the sinking feeling of despair at resorting to the tried and true parenting methods that have been passed down generation to generation of shame and deprivation. And now today is a new day and I realize that no matter what has been unfolding, I have continued to communicate to my son that I not only love him, but that because I love him - it is time for him to begin to experience the direct consequences of his choices. I have begun a campaign to help him notice repeatedly that he can make a new choice at any time if he doesn't like what his choice has created. We both got curious about why he keeps making choices about simple things like clothes that limit the big picture of the fun he was looking forward to. No answers yet but lots of questions I know he had never thought about.

My heart aches for him when I imagine the disappointment he will feel when he realizes that one of the consequences of his choices may be that he will not be re-joining his friends at Beaver's or learning to swim with other kids his age - that is unless he decides to make some new choices to navigate past the clothing issues he has created for himself.

I certainly feel guilty that I did not see that this situation needed correction earlier in his life - AND I firmly believe that guilt is useless energy but can fuel movement in a new direction. So, today marks a change in direction for our household. Who says you need a long time to turn a ship around....hang on to your seats for this course correction!

I'm pretty sure that any of us as parents set out with only the best of intentions as we enter the Pandora's Box of raising children. I know that my curiosity has served me well so far. I have far more empathy for my own parents than I had ever imagined...although I'm sure I was a little angel (wink!).

More significantly, the lesson that my son has taught me about stubbornly holding fast to one point of view so that it eclipses all kinds of new experiences that lie beyond it has been nothing short of profound.

I know that we both must be willing to change and that that change does not require that either of us have to give up our personal power, only that we must both honestly see and accept the consequences of our actions to date and to use them as sign posts as we navigate forward, creating more room for expression and expansion in our lives.

I'm sure one day my family and I will find this whole period in life hysterically funny. Right now, I'm just moving out of the "hysteria".....I'll let you know when the "funny" rolls in...assuming I'm still blogging 20 years from now!

That Was Easy!

I wonder ...is it possible to feel 11months pregnant - 'cause if it is, I think this is how it feels!

Today is my due date and I'm feeling well past my expiry! As far as I can tell, I don't smell or have any mould (although there are lots of places I can no longer see on this burgeoning body!) but I certainly feel over-ripe :)

What a crazy dance these last few days have been. The night before last saw me pacing the whole night through building contractions. I finally snagged some sleep from 5 am to 7 am and awoke to only the faintest hint of contraction and a baby that seemed to be content to stretch, as though to yawn from time to time. My excitement and anticipation nose dived into disappointment, frustration and a sense of having just "cried wolf" to all those eagerly waiting for baby's arrival. Its interesting for me to note that I felt I let people down somehow by not producing a baby when I thought I would! Ahh ... just how deep does my need to please go, anyhow? It was good to notice.

By last night the lack of "progress" had really got me down and I began to see a very recognizable pattern in my life even more clearly. I have been aware of my "start/stop" process in creation for a long time now. Its effects can be seen when I look back to every major creation in my life, and probably many of the lower key things too. I'm curious about this strategy. It feels a bit like testing the waters, checking for thin ice or sneaking up on a goal. God forbid anything come too easily!! What it does is create for me a mixed sense of excitement tinged with dread. The dread comes from that long held belief that something is going to derail before I'm at my destination. Perhaps it has to do with the notion of sacrifice or "paying dues" - all the old entrenched beliefs from a worldview that says everything is slow, hard work. Mmmmph!

Recognition of the problem, for what its worth, doesn't really resolve anything. If it did, I would have sorted this one out a long, long time ago. No, finding my way beyond this has been the granting of permission for hot, fat tears to move. Breathing deeply into the burn and flow of congested sinuses with the trust that all this pent up energy in motion will move me in new directions. I'm trusting my body to sort out what my intellect can only recognize but hasn't been able to resolve.

Just who would I become if I were to allow "easy" into my life? Last year I invested in one of those "easy buttons" from Staples that says "That was easy!" and took it with me to workshops for comic relief and to remind us all as we worked through the tough stuff that it really could be easy. My son co-opted it and I hadn't seen it for awhile. This week, while rummaging around in his room he re-discovered it. Like all 5 year olds, his tolerance for repetition is staggering to the adults in his life and the chant of "That was easy!" has been filling our house. Coincidence? - I think not!!

So back to my question, if life were to become easy just who would I become? Someone without a built-in speed limiter! I would crack one of the codes that keeps me in check, binds me predictable outcomes and creates much of the start/stop havoc that I invite into my life.

I would need to give up even more of the beliefs I hold about not becoming "too big for my britches" and fitting in. Lets face it, there are lots of folks out there who aren't interested in hearing or seeing someone do "easy" when they are invested in the belief that hard work, sacrifice and martyrdom is the "way".

I would certainly need to trust myself in new ways as I would be entering uncharted territory in my personal experience. Trust is a big one here, or perhaps it will resonate for some as "faith". Whatever adjective I stick on it, it is the state of relaxation, of flow and of safety. And it is always an inside job. This is something that is tapped into, not taught. Its simply there to be accessed when we are ready and no amount of cajoling, demanding or persuading makes a stitch of difference until we are ready to open that door, of that I am convinced.

Funny, but its not difficult at all to make a shift like this - what is difficult is to rise above all the beliefs that say "its hard", "it takes a long time" etc!! Gosh, talk about a snake eating its tail! I don't know about you, but sometimes I'm shocked at my commitment to maintaining the status quo, even when I know its not working for me. Rather than trying to re-engineer the known, I have decided to have a look from above all that and simply wonder just what is possible if all those limitations didn't exist.

Between my musings, and relaxing into my 'body talk' of tears, congestion and no small measure of frustration - I think I may have cracked another door of possibility open in the past 2 days - "That was easy!" - At least it was once I let myself consider that it could be :)

WEL-Mom's

I was really inspired and touched by Anne's blog today and Lucy's last entry on her blog. Perhaps I am even entrained into the energy flowing at the Institute this week as the conversations about family unfold through the Influencing With Intention program experience. All this coupled with the impending arrival of baby number 2 has got my creative juices flowing. As I listen to the thoughts circling my head today I notice that much of my inner conversation has to do with being a mother. "Mothering", as currently defined for us and by us up until now seems so limited in its scope.

For may of us, we are fierce protectors of our children. Not just their physical needs but by creating the space in which they can bloom. As I pay attention to the WEL-System mom's (WEL-mom's) I notice that as more and more younger women are seeking their own personal evolution and by extension, the children whose lives are affected are younger and younger too. By discovering and reclaiming aspects of ourselves that we lost touch with, by learning to trust ourselves again, healing our hurts and insecurities we have created more space for our children. Our legacies no longer colour our interactions with our children. We are awake and curious rather than parenting on auto pilot.

It doesn't end there, however. We have become women with children of all ages who are pioneers in how we interact with our children and grandchildren. Each of us finding ourselves constantly challenged to be awake to old habits that don't serve us. Each of us paying attention to who we are becoming in the process of our lives and holding open the space for our children to do the same. We are discovering how to be honest with ourselves and our children. How to honour our own needs while being resourceful in meeting the needs of those dependent on us. We are discovering our creativity and leadership ability as we shape our lives and pave the way for others, including our children, to emerge and discover their brilliance. When I use the term "emerge" I am writing of awakening curiosity and creativity; shrugging off the coma of habit and seeing things as they are.

A simple example that is close to home at the moment has been the incredible apathy my husband and I have been marvelling at when it comes to the City of Toronto. Toronto is facing serious economic problems in the wake of years of mis-management and alleged under-funding. Recently the City Council approved a very hefty pay increase for themselves along with a number of expensive perks and office renovations. Meanwhile, they have proposed a number of tax grabs on property tax, land transfer tax, fees for specific garbage and recycling containers and vehicle registration levies. This has been headline news for the past week, (ironically, last month's headlines related to the growing number of working poor in the city) and we simply can't believe that residents of the city are willing to roll over. Surprisingly, there has been very little public opposition with the exception of a show of solidarity at one council meeting. That, to me, is proof of a deep coma! I won't even begin to speak of our soldiers, of the famines, of ethnic cleansing. "Coma" seems insufficient for the blindness/paralysis we seem to be afflicted with in these situations.

But I will speak of our children because, I believe that our willingness to be awake will begin to shift the world by teaching a new generation how to live with open minds and hearts. As we discover how to really see the world around us, how to look squarely at our own pain, our own perceptions, how to revive our curiosity, how to tap into our innate brilliance and potential - we are teaching our children to do the same. They will not have to scrape off layer after layer of habituated thought and mindlessness - we will have given them the resources they need to move forward with even greater direction, intention and intensity.

I only hope there is enough time.

For all those conscious Mom's/Grandma's out there, I simply want to say thank you for honouring your own evolution, for remaining awake to things that are often hard to look at or navigate and for allowing yourself to emerge into new ways of living and being rather than operating from habit or expectation. Your visibility and leadership is the invitation to other women around you and you are holding the door wide open for our children to pass through as they shape their world.

Lady In Waiting

Its after 1 in the morning now and my twitchy legs and hiccuping bump have driven me out of the bed, leaving more room for the dog to stretch into and creating an opportunity for my husband to finally drift into deeper sleep now that my restlessness has moved me to action.

Writing just seemed like a natural occupation tonight. I often turn to my journal but the screen seems somehow more inviting. I am so aware of my growing impatience to just get on with it when it comes to giving birth. In fact, that impatience has been with me for a long time - a life time. So much rushing ahead. Some much pushing, pushing, pushing - fruitlessly. Energy expended needlessly. Moments wasted in anticipation of what was coming rather than appreciating what was present. This is how I have lived. Sound familiar to anyone else?

So what is my big hurry? Is it so I can delude myself into some notion of control? Is it a way of anticipating what's coming next (a very useful strategy in my life at one time!)? What is so compelling up ahead that I am unable to remain in the present for any length of time? What do I not want to see/feel/engage in the now that has me skipping ahead?

Sometimes I feel like if I take my eye off my destination for even one minute that I will lose sight of where I am headed. Its as though I have come to believe that without bringing my full and focused attention to bear, exerting all of my will - my most precious dreams will evaporate into nothingness. Quietly driven is how I would describe myself although I'm not sure if that is how others experience me.

Part of my camouflage has also been to keep that drive low key so that it won't be sabotaged in anyway. I also wouldn't want to appear "too" ambitious, full of myself, ... fill in the blank! (There is my inner Francis at work!). And yet, in spite of myself, that fire, drive and determination are evident in all kinds of ways to anyone who knows me.

It maybe that this is one more lesson from the wise sage in residence in my belly. I must learn to wait and to fill that time with the appreciation of what is happening NOW. Usually, I would be up in arms to be wide awake at this hour, knowing that tomorrow is full of plans - instead, I'm aware of this as a stretch of precious time to write and listen and then write some more.

Tomorrow is malleable - it will be whatever I make of it. What I have is now and a choice to act or feel acted upon.

Its not as though the Universe is without a sense of humour either. While I've been chomping at the bit to deliver this child into the outside world, my friend Irene awoke to the surprise of having her water break nearly 4 weeks early. She has certainly been catapulted into the now :) and it has afforded me the chance to examine my own impatience. And so I continue as a Lady In Waiting - who is awake physically and metaphorically in this moment!

PS: Thinking of you Irene! Can't wait to meet your little boy in person once he has arrived!!

Unraveling

For those of you who can remember a few years back to a hit TV show, Ally McBeal, you might recall her search for a theme song. Well, my search is over for the moment. I can hear the melody of "She's Come Undone" floating through my awareness!

I've been avoiding blogging for the last little bit. Oh I'll sit and stare at the blank screen. Sometimes I type a bit ...and then , uncharacteristically, I'll hit delete. I'm not usually too shy about exposing myself here however, recently all that seems to want to find expression is my litany of physical complaints, my sense of impatience and no small measure of fiery irritation. Sure, they are all the typical accompaniments to those final weeks of pregnancy and yet they also represent a deeper level of the chaos characteristic of a bifurcation point. This is a biggie .... my cells don't lie! Life truly won't be the same in a few weeks - not just because of a newborn in the house, but because of the acceleration of who I am becoming in the process. I'm in the process of birthing new aspects of me along with this delightful child.

Getting to know this baby over the past 9 months has been amazing and that is how I know it will be delightful - not simply because all new lives are delightful by default, but because of who this person is. I can tell by its activity just who the baby likes to hang around with, what foods and activities are received with delight and what isn't. I can sense withdrawal and contraction along with opening and expansion. We have a wonderful relationship already formed and I wonder what comes next. If only I had had the same awareness for my first pregnancy - but then again, my son and I have a very different and equally special connection that we forged by different means.

As I've said before, pregnancy has also been a powerful metaphor for the gestation and emergence of my self. IAlong the course of it I have struggled mightily with my personal worth when I'm not a financial contributor in our household. I've explored all kinds of external reference points to assuage my deeply entrenched beliefs about needing to be an infallible "expert". I've read books, looked into PhD programs, taken courses and talked to delightful coaches and teachers .... all of which repeatedly confirmed that this is not where my answer lies. (Louise, if you are reading this and feel like banging your head on the wall - I understand!! I feel the same way! Bear with me please :) ) In giving into my compulsion for recognition I have discovered some pretty interesting things about myself and in the process, peeled off yet another layer of this confounding onion of self-limitation.

I crave the illusion of security that the lowest common denominator offers. I can camouflage myself among "experts" and not stand out. I can fall back on collective thinking as a defence from criticism, judgment, humiliation and punishment. "It not just me!" I feel like a 4 year-old again - trying to deflect the full force of disapproval and its imagined consequences. After yet another round of this pointless seeking, I've allowed my inner 4 year old to grow up. Its time the woman I am becoming began to drive this bus, and not the other way around. This is an aspect of my life that I have repeatedly allowed to dictate my limitations.

It has taken this round of seeking to get really acquainted with the less than patient, eye-rolling aspect of myself that bites her tongue repeatedly for fear of being perceived as a know-it-all, smart-aleck! If I were to give her a name, it would be Alex - something short, punchy and full of spunk. This snorting, toe-tapping persona is quite an actress and a mistress of disguise but lately she's become pretty damn bold. Her presence is thinly veiled and sneaks out at the most inconvenient moments. She is my secretly my hero - saving me from endless boredom by continually pushing the edge in her hunger for something she doesn't already know or intuit. She's not arrogant - or at least that is not her intention however she might be perceived. I think if I listen to her closely, I'll discover just what it is that she is trying to prompt those "experts" to say. I'm certain that it hasn't been said before and that it is actually mine to say, if I were to give myself permission or simply find the courage to let the words escape my own body. Ventriloquism, while offering false safety, is clearly not working!

So while you are perhaps beginning to think I'm coming unhinged, allow me to influence you further by introducing you to the rest of my cast of players, thus fully inditng myself as a harmless nut bar! About a year ago in a fit of creative frustration I decided to create a cast of players that represent some of those fragmented bits of me. Inspired by a writing exercise in one of Julia Cameron's books and and an even older TV show called Herman's Head, I sat down and let myself listen to the competing voices in my head. At that time I discovered Francis, a matronly, underwear-folding, drudgery-loving voice of excessive caution bordering on near paralysis. JW, short for Jaguar Woman, also showed up with drama, flourish and an air of sophistication in her unapologetic, no-nonsense, no-holds-barred approach to life. A little while later, Brigitte showed up with a passion for play and a love of painting. The aroma of a fresh box of Crayolas is all she requires to make life complete and for her, magic lives alongside the ordinary. Discovering each of them has taught me unbelievable things about myself and provided endless entertainment in my journal as I allow them free reign when I'm feeling stuck in some way.

Alex, as the latest addition to this cast, is a welcome player. She is a younger, less sophisticated version of JW and it is her rough edges that make her questions both innocent and potent. I'm looking forward to discovering more about what she has to say, as there is a subtext and a direction in her questioning. Ah yes, it does get crowded in here from time to time and I have to wonder, who is it that listens to this cast of players?

Okay, now that my secret is out, I can also share that between the appearance of persona Alex and the admonishment of my good friend Gwen, (who is not ever above kicking my butt when I need it), I have decided to "get over myself". In doing so I have to accept the fact that I am the only person at the moment that has my particular skill set, experience, knowledge and perspective (a la WEL-Systems). That means I have a unique message and approach to share with the world. Gasp! Even writing this sets off a tsunami!! And yet as far as I know, there is not another Physiotherapist out there with a WEL-Systems background.

I have recently had a long, tooth grinding chat with another coach about my absolute rejection of the term "healer" or "teacher". Both terms drive me mad. My beliefs about "new- agey in-authenticity" make me want to run as far away from these nominalizations as possible. The terms feel so profoundly over used and so saturated with snake-oil that I cringe even writing them. (No hang- ups here, huh?!) And yet, sitting with my discomfort has been very revealing. They are clearly aspects of who I am, what I'm passionate about and what brings a lot of meaning into my life - and yet I have not been willing to claim them because of beliefs based on my perceptions of public opinion. Hot on the heels of this discovery has come another, and that is the news that my neighbour has been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and has been given 1 year to live by the powers that be.

Sitting in the tub, allowing the waves of sadness to wash through me about this vibrant man who we've known at a distance for over 10 years and who is now fading, I found myself at first feeling helpless and then very quickly realizing that here I am, metres away with a skill set that I know makes a difference and what am I doing? - holding back, staying silent, allowing my own hang ups to paralyze me while someone on my very doorstep has a need and doesn't even know that I may have something to offer. I can't think of a bigger reason to get over myself than that.

He may or may not be interested in what I have to offer but I am the one standing in the way of his choice because of my hang ups about being intrusive, being perceived as weird or being rejected. All of which is totally unfounded in reality! As for being intrusive or being rejected - someone else's choice has no bearing on me, it has to do with what is right for them. When it comes to the weird factor, I know that I have made a significant difference in the lives of those with cancer from my past clients, I'm just reacting to being an individual without the "credibility" of a clinic or a referral from another "expert" to fall back on. I also know that people will make the long trip to Toronto to access the support services at Princess Margaret Hospital for a fraction of the skill and care that I have to offer as a single practitioner. All of that in an allopathic model - I haven't even begun to contemplate what's possible in an autopoietic framework.

And while my inner Francis cringes at my boldness, I assure you that it comes from a place of honesty and ownership and not one of arrogance ... and well, quite frankly, "what you think doesn't really matter, does it?" quips my inner Alex! This is one of the biggest invitations to get over myself that I have ever had.

And there ends my unraveling. I have come undone .... and in the most delightful way. I can feel the restrictions loosening. As a final thought, I've repeatedly written in my journal the notion that at this stage of pregnancy, I wish I could unzip my skin and step out of it, leaving all the compression, swelling and pressure behind. I suspect the baby is beginning to feel the same in its cramped quarters. Perhaps stepping beyond my boundaries on this front will be like taking a first breath as something else is born. Whether a "real" birth or a metaphorical one happens first, I'll keep you posted! Its good to be back.