To the dad in the coffee shop

I had been working peacefully for a couple of hours when you and your young daughter came through the door.  She was so bubbly and happy, she immediately reminded me of my own little girl.  And, she was wearing the same pair of pink cowgirl boots with silver sparkly hearts that my littlest bops around in.  Her energy just filled the quiet coffee shop that afternoon and it really was a welcome distraction.  I was so pleased to see that she was getting to have a special afternoon with her dad.

Why do moments like this have to fall apart, sometimes?  Despite our best intentions, we hit a snag and everything begins to unravel and unravel and unravel…

Your needs.  Your priorities.  Her needs.  Her priorities.  Harsh words.  Hurt feelings.  Tears.  Unraveled.

As you left the coffee shop, a wave of sadness washed over me.  At first it felt like my heart was breaking for that little girl- how could you not see that she simply wanted you to herself, without the phone and the distractions?  But, judgment doesn’t settle easily under my skin.  The truth is that I’ve been there.  Standing knee deep in nasty, looking for a way out, plans for a lovely day unraveled around my feet.

But, I also know how good it feels to stop in the middle of the chaos and see everything with clarity.  To recognize that something needs to give and to understand that it’s going to start with you.  I know how good it feels to be the overwhelming force of positive change that turns the whole thing around.  I know how good it feels to pick up the pieces and salvage the day.

I hope that is what you were able to experience with your little girl yesterday afternoon.

I’ll never know what happened after you left.  But I do believe that wherever you are right now, you are going to pick up the pieces and try again.  Because that is what we do.  As imperfect as we are, we love with all our hearts.

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In my humble opinion, Simplicity Parenting Groups are an amazing way to gain clarity, see with fresh perspective and brush up on “picking up the pieces” in all areas of your life.  In a small group of 10-12 perfectly imperfect parents, you discuss what’s been unraveling lately and design some small changes that will bring you back to where you’d like to be. 

We weave our stories together, find those silver-lined threads of hope and stitch together a community of support for ourselves.  Over the course of 7 weeks, we explore family values, practice compassion and positive discipline, craft predictable rhythms, tame hectic schedules and ease the pressures of our adult world. 

I am offering a 7-week Simplicity Parenting Course at Meadowbrook Waldorf School in Richmond, RI, beginning on March 20.  Hop over here for all of the details.  Early Bird Special ends tomorrow!!

Sacrifice

sac·ri·fice  - From Latin sacrificium, "sacrificial," from sacer, "holy, sacred."

In her amazing book Daring Greatly, Brené Brown mentions a sermon in which her pastor talked about these roots of the word sacrifice, reflecting on the meaning "to make holy or sacred."  Dr. Brown writes that this understanding of sacrifice forever changed her view of parenthood.

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For Christians, today is the first day of Lent.  I don't have a very strong tie to religion, but I have been thinking about these concepts of sacrifice and family.  There is no question to me that my family is sacred.  My children's existence an expression of love.  And yet, so much distracts me from that sacredness on a daily basis.  Wanting more, needing things to change, never feeling completely satisfied.  As Brené Brown details, our entire culture operates this way and I am swept up to varying degrees.

What would it mean to cleanse ourselves of the things that distract us from what is sacred, to make space for more of what is?   

What would it look and feel like to stop wanting more, needing things to change and never feeling completely satisfied?  It begins with recognizing our thoughts and the critical way we look at ourselves, our families, and the choices we make.  And then, it requires a shift in thinking.  We must choose to believe that we do not need more, and that we are already enough. 

During this Lenten season, I want to make space for more love and compassion.  My observation will not be focused on the repentance of sins, but on bringing awareness to what is sacred in my home and all around me.  I will recognize the thoughts that distract me from my own strengths and the sacredness of my family.  I want to cleanse myself of self-criticism, and the defensiveness (or anger) that masks it.  I want to cleanse myself of doubt about my abilities, and choose to believe that I am already enough. 

For 40 days, I will choose love.  I will choose to love myself when I feel like my children are ignoring me (because it doesn't mean I'm invisible), I will choose to love myself when my husband is questioning me about something (because it doesn't mean he doubts my abilities), I will choose love when I feel inadequate (because it doesn't mean that I am). 

Will you choose to bring more love and compassion into your life, too? 

There is still time to register for Seven Days of Love a full week of writing prompts and fun, easy activities to invite more love into your days.  We will shine a gentle light on the places where love gets stuck, and clear space for love to flow freely again.  We begin tomorrow morning!

I could get used to this.

I could get used to this.  This being still thing.  This getting grounded in the here and now. 

Our lives are influenced by so many rhythms- seasonal rhythms, lunar patterns, the rhythms of our days and our weeks.  I know this to be true and yet, I still find myself amazed when I step back and observe it. 

So often when we are tired or blue or our energy is low we feel like we must push on through it.  Taking a break, or expecting less of ourselves feels like a cop out.  Especially when we all know at least 10 women who do it all with absolute style and grace!  Why should I let myself off the hook?

Let me tell you, letting yourself off the hook is not a cop out!  It is actually you tuning into the natural rhythm of life.  Everyone has highs and lows; we have energy and enthusiasm; and then we have darkness and doubt.  It is so very perfectly normal.  So perfect in its predictability, and in the way the changes make us feel every single time. 

When we let ourselves off the hook and stop beating ourselves up for feeling less than, we can create the space we need to get grounded in the real feelings.  The quieter we are, the more compassionate we are toward ourselves, the more open we actually become to that brighter mood. Waiting it out, rather than pushing through it, is a huge shift.  It requires us to trust that we are normal, and that we are going to get our energy and enthusiasm back.  It requires us to withhold judgement and believe that we are worthy of generous doses of self-care.

And then, almost without notice we are smiling again, we are painting with our kids, we are welcoming light and joy back into our days.  Perfect rhythm.

xo

Allison

Grounded::Quiet

When I was a kid, I loved to go sledding. Naturally, I'd get tired from pulling my sled back up the hill each time, and my feet would feel so heavy in the snow. Sometimes I'd take a little break. I'd lay down at the bottom of the hill to rest. I can remember everything about how it felt to burrow into the snow for a while, looking up through the treetops at the sky. I knew the snow was cold, but I was warm inside my snowsuit. I'd sink down into the ground and experience the quiet.

There is nothing like the quiet of winter, especially when the snow is falling. The air changes. Something calls the animals to retreat and rest. Peace settles like snowflakes.

Most years I actually move in the opposite direction. I usually fill a new year with goals and intentions before it even starts. Not this time. Now, I’m choosing to move very slowly. I’m trying not to look at what is ahead of me, and just burrow in and be grounded right where I am.

It is not easy!

I’m a person who spends a lot of time in the future, surrounded by images of all the great possibilities, planning and mapping a course. And as life carries my family along, I’m someone who gets thrown when things don’t look exactly as I expected them to. So, I respond to life with new plans and more maps. I want to control every possible outcome.

What I’m finally willing to admit is that living life this way just isn’t fulfilling. And when I acknowledge that I’m unfulfilled, when I say that I am capable of much more happiness, and that I want to feel lighter and freer, it actually scares the shit out of me. I go running to the plan book, because surely I can download some sort of solution to this problem.

I should work more. Or less.

I should sing more to the girls.

I should eat less sugar.

I should say grace.

I should

I should

I should

No. Not this time.

There is nothing like the quiet of winter, especially when the snow is falling. The air changes. Something calls the animals to retreat and rest. Peace settles like snowflakes.

This time I will take a little break. I will lay down at the bottom of the hill to rest.  This time I will let the answers find me. I will be waiting right here, in this moment.


 

I see you.

A few days ago, I turned 36.  There were balloons and cake and lovely gifts the night before.  My daughters love any reason to party (and eat cake!) so we all had a lot of fun.

But I'm not going to sugar coat it, or tie it up in a neat little package, it was a weird day. 

Plans for a simple outing with the kids fell through and I ended up feeling incredibly....angry.

Like "storming-around-the-house-throwing-toys-and-yelling" kind of angry.  This happens to people sometimes, and maybe you've been there.  Out of your sensible mind, giving into powerful emotions instead of trying to process them in a healthy way.  Such a strange -and secretive- part of human behavior.

I'm sharing this with you because there are incredible gifts hidden in those shameful, sad, embarrasing parts of our lives.  The real gift of my thirty-sixth birthday was that I saw myself there, in the middle of an ordinary day, totally losing it.  I saw myself tired, and cooped up, and lonely and frustrated.  I saw myself on the other side of a move to a new state, renting my house, creating a new home, traveling for the holidays and staring at a new year in a new place.

And the only thing I allowed myself to feel was compassion.

Not shame.  Not disappointment.  Not regret. 

This was my birthday gift. 

My silly actions, my soul fever, was the only way I could get myself to pay attention.  I was ignoring every other sign of discomfort- tired body, dark circles, even physical pain- and it was time to wake up!

We are settled into Connecticut, and it is definitely time for some exquisite self-care, for the things that make me happy and truly feed my soul - a walk outside each day, a weekly yoga class, time to write in my journal, a massage, a new haircut, a relaxing bedtime ritual.  It is time to turn some of the attention onto myself, to care for myself a little more. 

And, I'm caring for you a little more today, too.  The next time that you find yourself feeling tense or tight or frustrated or downright angry, remember my birthday gift.  Let go of all the judgment.  Wrap your arms around yourself like you would your children.  I see you.  I know that you are doing the very best that you can.  

Simple Summer::A Poem

I have enjoyed capturing little bits of summer here on Friday mornings.  And now we come to the unofficial end of the season.  I leave you with a beautiful poem by Mary Oliver.  

The Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean—

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

"The Summer Day" by Mary Oliver,  from The Truro Bear and Other Adventures: Poems and Essays. © Beacon Press, 2008.

The Gift of the Owl

Some Shaman believe that if you are visited by an owl, you are granted the gift of clairvoyance. That the owl illuminates the dark corners of your mind and guides you toward truth.

Athena, Greek Goddess of Wisdom

We heard a rustling inside of our chimney one morning, secured the fireplace with a grate, bravely opened the flue, and waited for what we thought would be a pigeon to come tumbling down. The girls sat so quietly and soon our visitor arrived. We could hardly believe our eyes as an Eastern Screech Owl appeared. We were giddy with excitement about our honored guest! We all sat, staring at the bird, and it back at us for a few minutes. But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the owl hopped back up into the chimney and we knew it wasn’t coming back down anytime soon.

It would be hours before the owl reappeared, lured by a lamb chop (pastured, no less) and an empty house. We returned from dinner out, to find it had escaped the fireplace and was flying around the living room! Girls quickly up to bed, doors closed and windows opened, my husband and I did our best to control the situation. Mike tried to guide the owl toward the window with a broom, but each time it fluttered across the room, the owl avoided the open window.

Tired, it perched on the arm of a chair, and I crouched down about a foot away, behind a French door. We stared at each other, both wide-eyed. It was an amazing moment. My intuition told me that we had done all we needed to do. It was the owl’s turn. This talented hunter with keen senses did not need us to save it. All that was left to do was let go. So we walked away. Upstairs, actually, and we waited for about thirty minutes. When we returned…the owl was gone! Back out into the night, navigating under the light of the moon.

And I’m left behind, thinking of what this visit means- wanting it to mean something- because the experience felt so powerful.

Eastern Screech Owl in Flight

“The two parts of genuine acceptance- seeing clearly and holding our experience with compassion- are as interdependent as the two wings of a great bird. Together, they enable us to fly and be free.”

- Tara Brach, Radical Acceptance

This summer I have made more of an effort to notice the inner dialogue that distracts me from what is actually happening in front of me. Often a voice full of judgments, criticism or guilt speaks so loudly that it begins to color the experiences I have with those around me. Time and energy that could be spent simply enjoying life with my children, is sometimes wasted on frustration or worry as I believe the nagging voice when it tells me this life or this experience should be different than it is.

The truth is that our experiences are just as they should be. This is the one life that we are given, and it is unfolding whether we like its challenges, or not. We all have the power to simplify our lives, and change the things we are unsatisfied with, but we cannot figure out exactly what needs changing until we are free of the critical voices that hold us down. When we are gentle with ourselves, when we feel compassion toward ourselves and our children, we can reconnect with our intuition and trust ourselves again. We can see things as they really are.

This is the gift of the owl.

Simple Summer::Little Reminders

The other morning I had to run a quick errand with my daughters in tow.  No sooner had we backed out of the driveway, then I could hear the distinct *thud* of shoes coming off and hitting the floor.  I found myself feeling irritated, as I started to think about what an inconvenience this barefootedness was, for now we would need to take the extra time to put two pairs of socks and shoes back on before we could run into the hardware store. 

Up in the driver's seat, I was still feeling sorry for myself as we passed through part of the Brown University campus.  Crossing the street in front of me, I saw a mom and her college-bound daughter.  They were carrying a little map, clearly familiarizing themselves with the girl's new home.  I imagined how they'd unpacked her belongings and set up her dorm room, and now they were out for a walk.  It wouldn't be long before mom would have to say "Good-bye."

In that moment, it occurred to me that if I had asked that mom about her thoughts on barefeet in the backseat, she surely would have laughed.  And she would've gladly chosen to trade places for a day, if only to have the chance to hold that little foot in her hand one more time and lovingly place the sock back on.

I was humbled.  And filled with gratitude for where I am right. now.  Yes, it is hard sometimes.  Yes, our pace is slow.  But I am grateful.

When we reached the store, I kissed each of my children, pulled the little straps across their feet, and gently fastened their buckles.

Simple Summer::Butterfly

Happiness is a butterfly,

which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp,

but which, if you will sit down quietly,

may alight upon you.

~Nathaniel Hawthorne

In my mother's garden

Awareness

I think it’s amazing that you can pack up and set off with plans to experience one thing, but end up experiencing something completely different, only to realize that you got exactly what you needed in the end. That pretty much sums up last week’s vacation experience.

Now, for those who have vacationed with two preschool-aged kids, you may already be grinning. This may not be too surprising to hear….but our week away was hard. Really hard.

I believe it is simply overwhelming at times to be a little child, away from the truest comfort of home. And I believe it is simply overwhelming at times to be a parent, when you let worry, embarrassment or frustration crowd out space for deep, nourishing, unconditional love.

Our week’s vacation had lots of joyful moments full of sand castles and boogie boards and giggling and ice cream cones. It also had moments of stress and anger and tears. Through it all, I held my intention to be mindful and became totally aware of some important things:

• Some days my very first sensation is tension. If I’m awakened earlier than I’d prefer or if I’m worried that the first child up will wake her sister, I feel tension in my body, my breath is shallow and my mind is racing.
• I am actually afraid of the powerful emotions of anger and frustration. When I witness these emotions in my children, I feel worried, my mind scrambling for the “right” thing to do. When I feel these emotions arise in myself, I stifle them and grit my teeth until I can’t bear it any longer.
• When a wave of powerful emotions has passed in my family, I remain held in the experience. My mind replays interactions, judges how things were handled, worries about the reasons or the implications. (Children, however, have this amazing ability to let go and move on).
• Children cannot settle into a peaceful rhythm, when the adults around them are unsettled or not at peace in their own minds. Children do perceive anxiety, even when it is not expressed outwardly.
• I am completely grounded when I am outdoors, surrounded by beauty and a limitless sky above me. When I am in nature, I find fewer distractions, I engage with my children more easily and really enjoy being in the present moment.

When I left for vacation, I could not have guessed that I would have learned these things about myself. As I unpack them, I see where I need to direct some attention and some love for myself. And I am beginning to understand the transformative power of mindfulness.

You can try this, too.  Spend some time as an observer of your own day.  Notice your own thoughts- where do they drift to? how can you bring them back?; witness your experience of different emotions;  watch yourself actively engage with your children, and notice the moment you drift. 

What do you think you will you learn about yourself? 

Vacation State of Mind

In a few days I will be packing up the girls and heading out of town for a week at the beach with my family. This was the vacation I knew as a child, and the tradition continues with the next generation, which is very special (and very generous of my mom and dad!).

Cape Cod, MA (last year)

What I’m looking forward to the most is the sensation of moving at a much slower pace, disconnecting from the chores and busyness of our days, and having a vacation state of mind...

Relaxation is a priority; there is nothing to rush to; there is no place that you must be, other than right here, right now, in this moment.

Granted, we are not a family that rushes to many places, because I purposely limit our commitments, but I will admit to experiencing a great deal of rushing within my own mind. I am constantly working through a to-do list and worrying about how to best use the spare moments of my days.  For me, a vacation state of mind will help quiet that inner chatter and encourage mindfulness.

While I'm away, I will try to let go of extraneous thoughts and bring my attention back to the present moment. I want to respond to my children with my full attention. I want to experience the beauty of my surroundings, the joy of my family around me and the deliciousness of each meal. This will be my own little mindfulness retreat.

And when my retreat is over, I hope to carry some of its lessons home with me. I will have to unload the car, and unpack the suitcase, and do the laundry and turn on the computer and get back into the swing of things….but not. so. fast. Let me hold my vacation state of mind a little longer. Let me remain fully engaged in the moments of the days that follow, too.

I will be away from this space for the week, but look forward to meeting you back here with some reflections on my mindfulness retreat! 

A Story of Rebirth

I am honored to be part of Rhythm of the Home once again!  The Spring Edition is here, and it's just  bursting with wonderful articles, craft ideas, recipes and other springtime goodness!  I'm happy to share an essay about starting over.

Enjoy!

xo

Allison

Reflections: I'm So Glad I'm Here

Despite the non-winter weather (or perhaps because of it) my house has seen a lot of runny noses and yucky coughs this season. After my own turn with this winter cold, I found myself alone in my house for an entire Sunday. My sweet husband’s only instructions were, “Rest.” I did plenty of that. And gradually, as my energy returned, I felt compelled to clean the house and help those germs move on their way.

I cleaned the house in absolute quiet, at a snail’s pace, and the experience was nothing less than amazing. (I’m not kidding!) As I washed doorframes and polished balusters, I noticed every groove and tiny detail. I wondered about who had constructed this solid old Cape, and I thought about a family living here at an earlier time, washing these same floors. I thought about my own family, and the imaginary worlds my children create under the table or behind the closet door.  As the afternoon light shone through my windows, I saw beauty that often goes unnoticed, and I felt such appreciation for our little place in this world.

While I may not have the luxury of cleaning in solitude again, I do want to try to carry this mindfulness with me each time I place broom to wood or rag to windowsill. Housekeeping as meditation, I suppose.

And I found the perfect inspiration during my friend Erin Goodman’s 10-Day Family Recharge earlier this month. Erin created ten beautiful days of ideas and encouragement for families looking to reconnect with each other and with what matters most in their family life.

Day One: Erin asked us to pause throughout the day to notice the beauty that is now. One of the participants, Annie, took out her video camera and captured a day in her life. But really, it could be a day in my life, or your life, I’m sure. Set to Elizabeth Mitchell’s “I’m So Glad I’m Here” Annie’s video reminds us that the beauty is indeed right now.

Housekeeping as meditation.

Enjoy!

Parenting Simply: Love & Gratitude

In the busy-ness of life, we often move, move, move forward without noticing the time or the space or the feelings that we’re moving through.  But what happens when we stand still?  When we relax for a moment, and breathe, and notice what is happening around us while we stand still?  Everything changes. 

Read more over at Kidoinfo today!

Parenting Simply: Pinecone Soup

Sometimes as parents, we are granted wonderful moments of true clarity. For me, one such moment came after an afternoon walk with my daughters. Our walk led to the discovery of an abundant supply of tiny pinecones at the end of our street, which immediately needed to be gathered, stowed in the back of a tricycle, and brought home to make pinecone soup....read more at Kidoinfo.

Information Overload

I recently had one of those distinct parenting moments when everything seemed to be spiraling toward crescendo, and responding to my daughter’s soul fever was becoming harder and harder for me. For all of the work our family has done to simplify our home environment and our schedules, I realized that I was still carrying a great deal of stress. The stress was eroding my patience. But where was it coming from?

I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. So I spent some time noticing the typical distractions that I have during a normal day. What are the things that keep me from being truly present with my children? I tuned into the “talk” going on inside my own head, and was amazed by what I heard. There was a running commentary about my parenting happening in there!

All day long, the voice of “the expert” was either pointing out the things I was doing wrong, or telling me what to do next and how and why.

Beginning with my first pregnancy, I have surrounded myself with information... beautiful, wonderful, helpful information that has guided me on my journey through pregnancy, babyhood, the toddler years and on and on. I own a tremendous amount of parenting books and books about play and books about art and books about child development. I visit nearly as many blogs on the same subjects. I honestly love these topics, and do have a great curiosity and desire to keep learning. BUT….

I was holding on too tightly.

The information was entering, but then it was paralyzing me. Instead of being present with my children, I was analyzing our time together. Instead of truly enjoying an activity, I was considering its deeper meaning.

In truth, I was missing the deeper meaning.

Just as our children can have too many toys and too many activities, we can have too many choices and too many paths to take as parents. Even those of us who desire a simple life, can find ourselves bombarded with information about what that means and what that could look like.

Inspiration is a wonderful thing. But it needs to be just that- inspiration. The wave of information needs to wash over us and inspire us and then move on. Special little morsels of truth and clarity will remain. They will inspire small changes that move us toward the life we want to be living.

When information is fueling a self-critique, it is no longer inspirational, and it needs to go! As parents, we need plenty of freedom to simply be with our children, living our own, autonomous lives together. We need to give ourselves space for creating our own magic, and having our own fun. And there are really only two places that we need to look for inspiration to do that: at our children and into our own hearts.

All the information we need is already there.

When it's hard....

I realize that I am not the only mom who has days when things seem to be falling apart or spiraling or escalating or overwhelming or closing in. I’ve talked to enough friends to know that we all have those days.

I had one recently...when I looked around my house, and all I could see were the unfinished projects, the loads of laundry waiting to be done, the checklist of things to do for my new little business, and all I could feel was overwhelmed. I was out of rhythm and sinking in quick sand. And, I was becoming more emotional (as in, not so kind, more demanding, louder…). It was turning into a “bad day.” Because on that day, I’d forgotten a few very important things.

First, I’d forgotten that there will be days like this. I’d forgotten that it’s normal to have low energy days once in awhile, or to feel behind sometimes. Instead of letting the overwhelmed feeling come, move through and then disappear, I tried to race it down, fight it, and beat it by taking on everything, all at once. Not really do-able.

Second, I’d forgotten to take care of myself. I’d forgotten that I woke up still feeling tired, the beginnings of a cold taking hold, so perhaps this was not the best day to tackle all the things that were bugging me.

Third, I’d forgotten to look for the simplest thing that could bring more peace.

But luckily, I did remember that a bad day is just like any other day….a series of minutes strung together into hours. Each minute carries the opportunity to change. Each minute brings a chance to do things differently. So, I started using my minutes more wisely:

I took a deep breath.

I drank a glass of water.

I let go of the overwhelmed feeling.

I gathered the girls around me. I joined their game.

We cleaned up toys.

We put on socks and shoes.

We went outside. We ran. We swung. We laughed.

I made a cup of tea.

I sat in the sunshine, sipping my tea, watching them play.

Minute by minute, everything changed. The day was new again. Salvaged, from the bad days vault. I was free to go back and find peace amid the laundry and the check lists.

Going Back to Pee (Or, why we do the things we do)

For the past month, I’ve been bringing my daughters to an hour-long nature program in the forest once a week. With a few other children their age, we make nature-inspired crafts, listen to an animal story, and explore the woods. We don’t participate in many structured activities, but because we’re city-dwellers, this one has been special to us.

On the very last day of our program, we donned handmade crowns, and set off together in search of butterflies. We had only been walking a short time when Emma announced that she had to pee! And she was not at all interested in squatting behind a tree, which meant we were in for a hike back to the nature center.


My head started swirling with thoughts about this imposition—we were going to lose our group, we wouldn’t see the butterflies, this was our last class, we were walking so slowly—it was easy to start feeling annoyed.


But then I remembered why we were there in the first place: to take in the beauty of nature, together. It was that simple. I took a cleansing breath in and out, and then we started walking back to the nature center to use the bathroom. Along the way, we listened to bird songs and we stopped to look at a spider web and we hopped like toads.


We never did meet back up with our group, or find those butterflies. But we enjoyed a nature adventure of our very own, and I can’t wait for the next one!

In Our Family, We're Happy

It rained all day today. I took the girls out in it for a little bit, but we spent most of the day inside. Sometimes playing peacefully together, and sometimes not. Sometimes I was present with the girls, and sometimes my mind wandered. It was one of those days where the dance felt a little off. And by dinner, we were all feeling crabby.

I don’t like feeling crabby. It means I haven’t been taking care of myself, but it’s not always easy to right the ship in the middle of a mood. Some nourishing food helped, but I was still looking forward to putting the girls to bed (that’s how crabby I was!) But then, in the middle of bedtime stories, my three year old started rubbing her younger sister’s back, and giving her lots of affection. And then she announced,

“I love my sister. And you. And my daddy.”

I told her that we all loved her very much, too.

To which she replied, “Yes. In our family, we’re happy.”

And with that, the rainy day blues-blah-crabbiness just melted away. I received my lesson loud and clear. I had chosen crabby, but I could choose happy instead. So next time I feel crabby creeping in, I’m going to make a different choice. Tonight’s sweet little words will be my reminder.