Parenting Do-Overs

It doesn't rain much where I live, but on one particular day over a year ago, it had rained hard all night and was still drizzling in the morning. As Murphy's Law demands, I had had my carpooling, road tripping, overused, 7-seater finally washed...just before it rained. I don't get my car washed very often and I LOVE my car when it's clean. It is also important to this story to know that my teenager likes to put his shoes on in the car rather than in the house before walking to the car (can you see where I'm heading...). On this particular rainy morning, my son walked through the puddles and residual stormy muck to the car holding his shoes in his hands so he could put them on in the car. Once loaded up, he didn't like the wetness and grime on the bottom of his feet, so he wiped them on my clean dashboard. FULL STOP!

I lost it. I blew my top with some high volume content! My stunned teen simply paused, looked at me, and said, "Mom, it's just dirt."

As a parent, I have asked for many parenting do-overs. I see reacting as very different from responding. Reacting is often impulsive and lacks the extra few beats of time required to think things through. Responding is more thoughtful and less emotionally charged. When I behave in a way that is impulsive, reactionary, and emotional rather than thoughtfully responsive, I long to be able to do it over. But let’s face it; there will always be moments of reaction even if we wish we could only be thoughtfully responsive. We’re human and parenting is hard!

I recently read a wonderful blog post by Janet Landsbury entitled, "Parent Do-Overs – 7 Confidence Building Responses." When I first read the title, I thought it would be about something different; how to do parenting do-overs rather than how to do it better the first time around. The seven responses she shares are really good, just not what had me opening the blog. But the idea got my blog-writer going, so rather than wish her blog had been about the topic I wanted to read, I thought I'd write it myself. 

Many years ago, when my kids were much younger than they are now, I began a new “do-over” practice in my parenting. After a reaction that was less than thoughtfully handled, I would usually come to a point a few seconds, minutes, hours, or even days later and think to myself, “whoops, I wish I had handled that differently.” That thought is my signal to head back into the situation with my child and do it over. My next step is to talk about what happened and how I reacted. I like to separate my reaction from the content of my message. Usually, the need to correct the behavior is on point, but my reaction can be an overreaction. I’m a fiery woman and when I’m stressed or deeply concerned, my reaction can be bigger than I intend. My opening lines are usually something like, “I would like to talk about what just happened and how I reacted.” Sometimes, I will even say, “I’d like a do-over to try and respond better this time.”

In the instance of the clean car/dirty feet, my kid's statement brought my overreaction to my awareness rather quickly, in part because he didn't meet my overreaction with a defensive attitude. Instead, he just brought to my attention how disproportional my reaction was to the offense. It's rare that this awareness happens as quickly at it did this time. And still, I had to take a few deep breaths in the moment to be able to move from reaction to response. I clearly needed a do-over. 

First, I apologized for my overreaction and owned that it was too big for the severity of the transgression.  Then, I addressed the content.  This takes a few extra steps. 1) Speak about the action and how I felt about it. 2) Discuss what I needed him to do instead. 3) Share what about the behavior was unacceptable. 

Often our reactions come off as personal attacks rather than about the behavior itself. Do-overs work best when we address the behavior, as well as our feelings and needs.  I find separating my reaction from the offensive action of my kids works better to educate and correct behavior while helping to leave the personal relationship intact. 

It is my belief that overtly stating the need for a do-over with our children helps teach them many things about being human. I hope that my kids have learned and continue to learn that we all make mistakes. And, that owning our mistakes with humility is important. We will try to do better next time and we can even try again this time. Making mistakes is normal and catching ourselves as quickly as possible, owning the mistake, and trying to do better are vital lessons for growth and learning.

We all mess up. That’s part of being human. There is NO way to always do it the best way on our first try (as if there is some quantifiable “best way” anyway!). But that doesn’t let us off the hook entirely either. We need to also notice when we are less than skillful in our parenting or when our reaction doesn’t match the situation, or when we wish we had said something different in the moment.

When children are really young, we can ask for do-overs with our partners or friends. We can say things like, “I just handled a situation with my child in a way that doesn’t feel right. Can I try a do-over with you, so I see how that might feel different for next time?” Do-overs are a wonderful way to learn and grow as parents and as people. I ask for do-overs with my husband too! Now that my kids are teenagers, do-overs are a normal part of our conversations. They help us separate reactions (mine and theirs) from the content of the needed dialogue.

Here’s to doing our best and owning our missteps too. How do “do-overs” work in your family?

Things Don't Always Go as Planned

For the last three months I have been eagerly awaiting June 4th, the day I would get to welcome a group of birth worker sisters to my workshop space and home for a sisterhood retreat and sleepover. Together and individually we prepared for our time together: gathered necessary items, planned our time, prepared the space, bought and prepared nourishing and less nourishing food items to help us get through and celebrate this time together, made plans with our families for our time away from them, and journeyed from our homes to the location where this much anticipated event would occur. We gathered together in Topanga Canyon on Saturday morning with smiles and excited anticipation of our time together.

Everything was in place, just as we expected. Well, almost.

We got a note a week or so before our event from one of our sisters letting us know that she could no longer join us due to a health issue. Then another emailed the night before that she too could not join us as it just wouldn't work with her new family and another mama couldn't swing it along with a recent move and recovery from having sick kids. The morning of our special weekend, another mama emailed she just couldn't do it with everything else happening in her life. From 13, we were down to 9.

The 9 of us there, gathered, joined together, dropped in, and readied ourselves for our much anticipated retreat. Collectively, we created an altar and shared our intentions, moved our bodies, grounded on the land, and embraced the energy of sisterhood. This was going to be just as we intended! AMAZING!

Our collectively created schedule of events included movement, rebozo work, discussion/exploration of archetypes, fire circle ritual and singing, belly binding, and an overview of my dissertation (per request of the group). These were our scheduled modules. We also had many open times for swimming, talking, eating and the chance to share a glass of wine together in person rather than via social media, the thought of which inspired the weekend to begin with! You might say, we had a two page, carefully constructed, birth plan for our weekend.

And, as is often the case, the Universe had other plans.

At about 4:30 on Saturday, in the midst of our discussion about archetypes, my neighbor burst into our space with the announcement that there was a fire.

Did I mention we were in Topanga?

We stepped outside the bubble of our workshop womb to see a large billow of smoke rising across the ridge in front of us. Living in a dry chaparral environment known for its flammability, fire is both familiar and terrifying.

And did I mention we were a group of BIRTH workers gathered together for this event...women both skilled and experienced in managing high stress situations with unpredictable outcomes?

Yeah. That's who walked out and faced this unwished for addition to our highly anticipated birth...I mean retreat.

The next hour was spent educating ourselves on the severity of this unwished for situation. What do we know? Where is it? What are the current concerns? What if we wait an hour? Are there other things we could try first? How are we feeling about this situation? What does my/our intuition say to do or not do?

Knowing what I know about fire, Topanga, and emergency services and access to information in times such as these, I tag-teamed my phone and computer, put on the TV and gathered my neighbors who had lost internet access when the fire began (they have a different service provider than I do). We set up command central in my living room and waited.

The birth workers also waited, as they are so good at doing. They went on with the afternoon knowing at any moment the next best thing to do might be to pack up and leave, but for now, we did not need to pull the plug entirely, rather simply adjust. Like in birth, time would give us more information and more experience with which to guide our next move.

Like we often have to do in labor, I gave myself a comfortable boundary within which to relax and wait: if any area in Topanga was put on mandatory evacuation orders or my area was given voluntary evacuation orders, we would call the retreat complete. No one wanted to. We had done so MUCH to get HERE to this moment. Our dreams and expectations were grand! In none of them did a major fire event enter the fantasy.

Time passed. The retreat group swam in the pool and enjoyed each other's company, with their stuff packed in case it became time to go. I stayed active in my living room command center. The moment came. A few fire zones near mine were ordered to evacuate.

I pulled the plug.

It was no longer time to wait or to look for alternatives. The time had come for greater action. As the sun began to set, we closed our retreat, not with the ceremony planned for the next day, but with a certain amount of haste and motion. We gathered for a group photo on the deck overlooking the smoke plume and said goodbye.

We had to walk our talk. We had to practice doing the next best thing. We had to walk our labyrinth of excitement turned disappointment not as a metaphor, but as real life. Yes, it was "just" a retreat, but the excitement and disappointment was no less real. We got to practice holding both emotions tenderly within our hands and hearts.

The doulas left and my shit got very very real. The letting go intensified as I went around my home looking for things I couldn't live without...treasures, photos, heirlooms and what I could leave to potentially burn...what to hold onto and what to release, even reluctantly.

Ash from the fire on the back windshield of my car. 

I had to help my teenage sons do the same. Boys who have lived in the same place their entire lives, young men who have gathered treasures and crap that now fills their shelves and some of which touches their hearts deeply. They too had to decided what to take and what to leave with the possibility, albeit unlikely but felt no less real, of never seeing any of it again.
My husband came home and we loaded our cars with boxes of photos we've been meaning to digitize for the last several years and other important items. Left behind were some surprises: my doll collection from my childhood, my box of high school mementos, my wedding dress. It was an exercise in forced clarity.

As we drove away after our Topanga zone was put on "voluntary evacuation" orders (a decision we made to role model being conservative in terms of safety and to support our emergency responders in making a tough situation as easy as possible for them). We had everything that mattered...our pets, our photos, a few special treasures, some heirlooms, and each other.

Oh, and at the last minute, my son grabbed a few chocolate bars left by my birth worker sisters intended for our retreat, and now soul food for retreating evacuees.

Things don't always go as expected. We plan, we prepare, we organize, we ready ourselves and others for the big event. AND then, we have to let go, practice being with what is, showing up for the moment, surrendering what needs to be surrendered, doing the next best thing, mourning the loss of what we had held with such excitement, and gathering clarity about what really matters.

Mentoring works both ways

Last night was class #6. That's the grand finale, filled with lots of great experiences to send the parents off ready for the adventure of childbirth and new parenthood. I've been doing this a long time, almost 13 years now, and you could say that for the most part I can push the play button on many processes and they spew forth, more or less, pretty well.

Of course it is my desire to be the "empty cup" ready to respond to whatever presents itself, to be open to the unexpected, and curious about what each individual brings on that particular evening. I'm certainly not perfect and I can unconsciously slip into rote mode. Rote in a Birthing From Within class is far from boring or dull. The only one who really knows I'm on rote is me. The hardest class to do in a rote manner is the last class as it demands a lot.

Which brings me back to last night. I had a pretty good idea what I'd do for our final class as I have a more or less favorite way to end a series. We had a few things to finish up...we had to get Inanna off the "hook" for one and initiating a group of Birth Warriors is almost a must do for me in class 6. But what turned the whole plan on its head was the entrance of one of the couples WITH their newborn!

They hadn't told any of us that they had given birth since class 5 and walked into class with their beautiful new baby. We were all stunned, floored, excited, and wowed! It was fun, but also posed a difficult challenge in terms of holding the space. If I stayed on rote mode, the excitement of the expectant parents and the joy of the new parents would be like a large wave ready to sweep the beach of all it's magical castles. The potential to spiral down into a recounting of the birth story play by play, was very high. We all wanted to hear it, but I am also not a fan of play by play birth stories.

I want to hear about deeper things, like how they were transformed, what awed them about themselves and each other, what surprised them, how he coped and what he did when he couldn't take away her pain, and what she did when she didn't think she could go on. To me, these questions teach, these explorations mentor, these sharings inspire the wide-eyed parents facing the unknown better than any play by play. I had none of them planned. I had no idea that the first hour of class would be spent simultaneously mentoring brand new parents as they navigate the first days postpartum and making sure that doing so (in the public forum of the final class of a childbirth preparation series) deepened the true preparation of the yet-to-birth parents. You could say, I was on the edge of my backjack the whole time. Rote...that flew out the window.

I LOVE when that happens and it is one of the reasons why I'm still mentoring classes now that my own children are nearly grown and long after my interest in birth has lost its initial glow. Not only does this work stretch and deepen the parents and their readiness for the rite of passage of birth...but this work helps me grow...it takes me to my edges, forces me to be fresh and to continually open. This is work as spiritual practice. It is deeply humbling and challenging. For both I am profoundly grateful. It was a very fun class!