How Old is the Parent?

We are often asked, "How old is your baby? It's a sweetly intentioned question and one we can usually answer easily (depending on our current level of sleep deprivation!). An equally pertinent question is, "How old is the parent?" 

For some reason, we think that upon the arrival of our child, we somehow become fully-formed parents even if our baby is a newborn. Parenthood grows, like the development of a child, through phases and stages of change. When your child is a newborn human being, are you a newly born parent--exploring the new world, seeing it for the first time through parent-eyes. It makes sense to think of new parents as newborns. They need much of the same care and attention a newborn baby needs--warmth, attention, food, sleep, and total acceptance that they are not yet crawling let alone walking! 

We would never think to yell at a newborn for not knowing how to crawl.  And yet, we can berate ourselves viciously in the midst of our innocence as new parents.

What if instead of expecting ourselves to arrive as fully-formed parents, we looked on with the wonder of witnessing something completely new finding its way in the world? Imagine watching ourselves unfold into parenthood with the curiosity and awe we feel as our children learn new skills for the first time.

Our development continues far beyond the newborn phase. My own children are teenagers and my experience of myself as a parent is far from new. Even still, each new phase of parenthood is a developmental milestone for the parent. This is my first time as a parent of a child applying to college. This is my first experience of having two kids in high school with all its changes and unique challenges. These are my current developmental phases of parenthood. They are new and unfamiliar. I am no longer a newborn parent, as my identity as a mother feels well established. But each new phase still brings with it a period of adjustment, learning, and stretch...as it does for my kids.

One of the big differences between the developmental phase of newborn parenthood and older milestone crossings is communication. At this point, with teenagers, I can and do verbalize the stretch as I feel it. I often say to my kids, "This is new for me. I'm going to have to take a bit to figure out how I feel about it and what I want to do." They don't have to accept that and sometimes push against my request for patience. That's sort of their job, to test and push my boundaries...it's a developmental phase! Asking for time and verbalizing my need to let the change, stretch, or phase settle a bit for me is a practice I've worked on over my nearly 18 years of being a parent.

This practice can start as a newborn parent. Try verbalizing to your non-verbal baby what you need, or maybe just speak inside your own head, either will work. For example, if your baby is crying and you don't know what to do say, "I hear you are upset and I'm having a tough time figuring out what you need. Give me a minute to see if I can figure it out." Regardless of whether you say it out loud or inside your own head, it is a practice to ask for and take the necessary time to step across a developmental threshold in your own parenting journey. 

You aren't really asking your baby for this space and time. You are asking yourself to be patient with yourself. You are reminding yourself that you are facing something new and unfamiliar. 

You are not expected to know how to handle every situation the first time you face it or even the tenth! When learning to walk, toddlers fall down a LOT. And, they keep trying...they pick themselves up and try again...over and over and over again.

Here's to cheering ourselves on as we learn to walk as parents. We will learn how. Then we'll move on to running, climbing, jumping, and swimming.

The phases continue. Patience and resilience are required. If you don't already have them in spades, parenthood is a crash course in both!

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Holiday Treasures and a Family-Infused New Year!

Part of our New Year's Eve involved packing up the holiday decorations. As we only had a very small artificial tree this year due to location, I had to be highly selective about which decorations I brought. I didn't go for fancy or beautiful or the most expensive, I chose the photo ornaments the kids painted each year when they were little and the ones they selected each year that hold memories (like the monkey ornament that's missing a foot because my youngest, who selected it while shopping at Cost Plus Market, thought the foot of said monkey tasted great!). 

I also brought the Star of David tree topper that I made out of cardboard, tinfoil, a chopstick and some ribbon the first year in our new home to honor my traditions and as well as my husband's. It was meant to be a temporary fix until we could find or make a better one, but now, 18 years later, we tenderly keep this homemade tree topper alive for another year...and hopefully another after that. When I asked my boys if we should bring the tree topper this year due to its fragile state, they exclaimed, "Of course!" As if the idea of NOT having it was blasphemy! This is how ordinary stuff becomes treasure. And the treasures are the only things that made the journey with us this year. 

Our year abroad taught us a lot about treasures and meaning and the insignificance of stuff. I'm deeply grateful on this New Year's morning for the lessons we gained that year and which continue to inform our family life. Spending NYE last night with our boys, talking, reflecting, and collectively as well as personally looking to our new year, set my heart and my family on firm ground for this new year. I'm not sure we would have done it, nor that our teenagers would have complied if not for the year we spent somewhat trapped together and learning that organic and forced family time nourishes all our souls. 

May the new year bring your family nourishing time together as well as nourishing time for each individual independently. At least for me, the two feed one another and make the other richer as a result of the pairing. And may you find and make treasures--from stuff embedded with meaning and treasured moments captured in memories forever. 

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Happy New Year! 

Kids, Parents, and Too Many Holiday Presents

It didn't take us long to realize we had a problem. Our first holiday season as parents was an initiation into overwhelm! My husband and I each have divorced and remarried parents. That means between us we have given our children eight grandparents and nine aunts and uncles (premarriage)! Our first born was the first grandchild in the family. To add extra complexity, my husband's family celebrates Hanukkah and Christmas, while mine celebrates Christmas and Solstice. This equals two major gift giving holidays, multiple celebrations, and extended family that numbers over twenty! 

Through that first overwhelming holiday season, we learned valuable lessons. Here are some pointers we gained from experience.

1. Start Young. This is the most important advice I can give you. Decide when your kids are still young--like preverbal young--how you would like to navigate the expectations around receiving gifts. As one of my parenting mentors told me many years ago, "What kids get they come to expect." You get to decide what they get and in doing so, you also determine what your kids come to expect. Make decisions mindfully and thoughtfully or you will find yourself scratching your head when your kids are older wondering how come they expect SO much stuff! After our huge first year, we established that on Christmas our kids would get one gift from Santa, a single gift from my husband and me, and a stocking. Our sons (who are now 14 and 16) still expect this, and only this, on Christmas morning.
2. Organize extended family with the power of the wish list. After we learned that extended family loves to shower the grandkids with goodies, we started being proactive and strategic with our wish list. We knew we were lucky to have so many generous adults wanting to make the holidays special for our kids and excess was rampant. We started saying things like this: "Thank you for wanting to give our kids such beautiful gifts. This year we could really use your help with..." One year, we decided to build a play structure in our yard and asked the extended family to gift the boys with components of the structure. One family member gave the slide, another the climbing wall grips, another the swings, another the play steering wheel and telescope, and another the monkey bars. The play yard was epic! The kids loved it, had gifts to open from each grandparent, the boys were excited by the entire building process that ensued soon after the holidays, and played on this holiday gift for years (my 16 year old was "hanging out" on the swings with a friend last week).
3. Simplify and Be Creative. With multiple holidays to celebrate, we had to simplify and be creative or go completely mad! We decided that Hanukkah would be the festival of lights AND books. Each night of Hanukkah, our boys would get a new book. The night we would celebrate with my husband's family, they would select the book and give it to our kids. This not only helped to minimize the over abundance of plastic toys, it built the kids' library and kept it fresh year to year. As a side bonus of this gift-giving ritual, our boys are avid readers who love books.
4. Think beyond the store-bought gift. The year we lived internationally, we had to think far outside the gift-giving box. We were living out of suitcases and spent Christmas in a hotel room in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Gifts had to be practical and portable. My husband and I filled the kids’ stockings that year with coupons. They included such options as “pick the restaurant,” “pick the movie,” and “one hour of extra screen time.” Our boys treasured these coupons of power and used them judiciously. 
5. Practice saying "no." Yes, you can say no and the holidays are a great time to do so! You can say no to plans as well as to your kids' wants. Their wish list might be long or contain something big, but you can always say no. As a parent of two teens, I have a garage littered with reminders of times I wish I had said no. I wish I knew then what I know now. 
6. Role model the value of meaningful experiences beyond gifts. Holidays are not just about gifts. For kids to learn this they have to SEE us actively engaging in OTHER things with at least as much vigor and attachment as we demonstrate around gift-giving. For the last decade, our family has participated in a charitable event on the morning of Christmas Eve. It is an important ritual that reminds us of our good fortune while also helping others.
7. Make holiday traditions meaningful and memorable. Creating (or continuing) family traditions can go a long way in solidifying holiday memories and meaning. For our family, traditions and the absolute adherence to those traditions, have become more important to our teens than to us! For our boys, Christmas Eve IS going to my parent's home, eating raclette (don't ask), and playing charades. For them, Hanukkah is lighting the candles and eating
   
   latkes (OK...Hanukkah has also become the "book" holiday, but we did the best we could!). Thanksgiving is about sharing our gratitude, one by one around the table, creating and putting on a play in front of the fire after dinner with the other "kids" (the plays have changed over the years as the kids have grown, but the tradition is unchanged). I am certain when my kids are older, their memories of the holidays will be about these aspects. Rarely, if ever, will their memories be about the material gifts they received.

These are a few of the ideas we've incorporated into our family life with relative ease and joy. It hasn’t always been possible to maintain traditions to perfection, but we have done the best we can—going as far as finding raclette on Christmas Eve the year we were in Vietnam. We missed our family, but I can guarantee memories were made!

The holiday season can be a truly overwhelming time for parents and kids alike. 

What do you do to minimize holiday gift overwhelm and maximize meaningful connection during the holidays with 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.

Nurturing Charitable Giving in Kids

When I thought about my kids before they were even born, I had ideas, like most moms-to-be that my kids would be good kids, loving and caring. I knew I wanted them to be warm and be able to feel deeply into the lives of those less fortunate. I wanted my kids to want to be do-ers and givers. My husband and I wanted our kids to be compassionate and charitable.

Like all moms, I had idealized notions of both motherhood and my future children. The dreams were easy; it was the manifestation into reality that proved the tougher challenge. How do you teach children to be giving?

Here is my list of what helps instill charitable habits in our children.

1. Nurture their natural charitable instinct 

Kids start early seeing the suffering of those smaller, weaker, and in need of our help. I remember my not yet one-year-old crushed a pill bug/roly poly with his little fingers in front of his older brother who was maybe just over three-years-old. My older son howled in pain for the roly poly, now reduced to mush. He was nearly traumatized by the ruthless and insensitive behavior of his little brother. His pain and anger led him to become the family roly poly crossing guard and to this day (well into his teens) he points out roly polys that have put themselves in harm's way on the path that leads us from the front door to the car, making sure no one accidentally steps on one while rushing to the car en route to carpool pick up.

This may not seem like it relates to developing charitable behaviors, but I believe that was a seed to the very plant of charity I wished to nurture in my boys. It would have been easy to laugh off his initial concern for the small little hard-shelled bug as nothing more than a little kid's fancy. I chose to see it as an expression of his compassion and compassion was (and is) an emotion I wish to see cultivated. After that afternoon in our veggie garden, I chose to take seriously every roly poly crossing guard action my son made. When he stood on the path pointing out potential victims of my too-large shoes, I stepped carefully and slowly, even when we were late.

2. Let kids give, even when you disagree with their choices

There are many of us who don’t want to give to panhandlers out of principle, choosing instead to donate to local shelters, halfway houses, and other charities designed to help in organized and thoughtful ways. Kids, however, see people on the streets and feel either repulsed or drawn in by their suffering. Young kids often have questions and want to know why that person looks (and maybe smells) like THAT. They craved understanding. When our kids asked these questions they almost always followed it up with a desire to do something to help. Even as little kids they wanted to drop some money into the cup or hat, hoping to make a difference. We not only let them, we encouraged them to do so.

At the main intersection of our hometown, there are almost always people holding signs requesting help. You know the ones: They walk up and down the line of stopped cars at long lights, making you want to look away. Since our kids were really little they have seen people struggling and asking for help in this way. I started carrying granola bars, protein bars, bags of nuts, and other quick power-punching snacks, not just for my hungry cranky kids who in a pinch might need something to tide them over, but so I would always have something to give out at the stoplight when my kids had the desire to do something. I would ask them, “I have some nuts and protein bars here. Do you think we should give them some of those?”  Again, my main purpose was to create the feeling of doing something and nurturing the charitable impulse.

3. Help your kids build a charitable account

From the time our kids were old enough to receive allowance, they received it in three different chunks. My husband is a financial planner and works with people and their relationship to money as a core aspect of his career, he even wrote a book about it. Working with people around their money has taught him a lot about the importance of developing a healthy, responsible relationship to money. 

Here is what we did:

The amount of allowance was determined by our child’s age. At 3 our son got $3 a week, at 5 he got

$5 and so on, now at 14 and 12 they get $14 and $12 respectively. This allowance was divided equally into three different jars; spending, savings, and giving. Our boys were encouraged to spend the money in the Spending Jar on whatever they wanted, savings was not allowed to be touched and earned interest (that’s for a different blog), and giving was to be given away as they wanted.

Our boys’ Giving Jar would be pulled out when they had a "jump rope for heart health" event at school, or given to World Wildlife Federation when my older son wanted to save the polar bears, his favorite animal. From an early age we, as a family, were very involved in one particular charity due to our older son’s health condition. Each year when the Walk would come around, our younger son would get his Giving Jar and want to donate all of it to the Walk, hoping it would help his brother. Our boys have had complete control over how the money in their Giving Jar is allocated and it has been deeply touching to see just how they choose to do so. It has had the added bonus of teaching me more about my boys and what is important to them. 

4. Volunteer

There are not as many organized volunteer opportunities for kids as I wish there were. It took a while for my husband to find a homeless shelter that allowed kids to be involved in helping cook a meal, which we did, but there are lots of other ways, even small ways, to volunteer. Eliminating hunger is an important value for my husband so cooking a meal for the homeless was what led him to find an organized way to put action behind his compassion. We’ve also done a number of walks and while this may not be volunteering exactly, I can say that as a family who has been walking and raising money toward a cure to my son’s disease, when friends show up to our walk, it makes a difference not just to the disease, but to my son who sees all his friends supporting him and his efforts.

Lastly, we make volunteering a part of our annual holiday tradition, spending the morning of Christmas Eve every year giving away hygiene kits, blankets, toys, and warm coats to those living on the streets in downtown Los Angeles. We have been a part of this event since the kids were too young to even go down there as babes in arms. But since the age of five they have been every year and having it a set tradition since before they can remember makes it an unquestioned and highly-anticipated part of our holidays.

5. Be a role model

This one is pretty obvious, but not to be overlooked either. Our kids do what we do, not what we tell them to do. For my husband and me, being charitable both with our money and our time is important. We believe in giving away a significant amount of our income and doing what we can to give to causes we believe in. This isn’t something we’ve done as a show for our kids; it is built into our values. That said, we do let our kids know when we are doing something for others, be it volunteering, going to a fundraiser, or sending a check. As much as possible we live this part of our lives visibly for our kids to see, even for things like supporting the fundraising events for the public elementary school they attended.

6. Include them in your family’s charitable giving

Now that our kids are a bit older, we include them in discussions and decisions about how we allocate the money we give away as a family. My husband uses some very clever ways to help families figure out where they wish to give when there are many different people helping to make those decisions. Just this past weekend we sat down as a family over breakfast to make decisions about our end-of-year-giving.

My husband brought home 400 coins, giving each of us a stack of 100. We brainstormed all the different areas where we would like to make a difference in the world and at home. Each of us had a paper in front of us with several different general categories. We divided up our 100 coins on our individual paper, feeling into how we wanted our ¼ of the family charitable money allocated according to our particular beliefs.

Once we had our personal stacks, we then subdivided the categories into actual charities and put the subdivided categories in the center of the table where each of us got to take the coins from the area of our personal paper, say “Human Rights” and divide those coins into specific charities/areas where we would like our money to go.

In the end the number of coins in each box represented the percentage of the total 400 coins and the percentage that represented of our total charitable amount to give away. For example, if one charity had 50 coins in the square at the end, they would get 1/8^th of our total amount to be given away. Each of us had the same power to decide where and to whom we give. Each of us also left out ten coins, keeping 10% of our money for more impulse giving throughout the year.

Does this all work and make a difference? Are our adolescent boys perfect? No, but neither are we as parents or as people. We’re fallible, all of us, but we’re doing the best we can and I do believe our kids are growing into adults who value being charitable...we're not completely there! But we are on our way.

My hope is that as all of us help nurture the charitable spirit in our children the world will be a more loving and compassionate place for everyone. Let me know what works for you and your family. I'm still learning and like all moms, welcome new, good ideas on this path toward raising children into healthy adults.  

He's Grown New Feathers Enabling Farther Flight

Our boy is off for the ISEE (the standardized test used by private schools the way the SAT is used by colleges and universities).

We chose to have him attend a small alternative public school in part because he gets stressed out by tests and frankly the word "test" means something completely different when you have diabetes. On the threshold of high school and in the midst of the application process he's embarking on a rite of passage this morning. He's done lots of preparation and is completely ready for the "ordeal," but that does not really change the fact that it is a test, but not of what he knows intellectually like those administering the ISEE or the ones who will receive his results, might think. No, this is a test that in part marks his growing up.

He would not have to take this test, nor do test prep every week since August if not for HIS desire to be able to choose his next step. For the last 13 years, we've been making those choices for him. We've decided where he's going to school and what's important and right for our boy. Now, he's stepped up and wants to participate in those choices. He's not a little boy any longer, one for whom we make the best decisions we can for him. He wants to do it for himself.

I can't help but think of the rite of passage ritual and ceremony that occurs in this time of life for teen boys who identify themselves as Jewish. My boy does not. His father is Jewish and I'm an equal opportunity ritualist who welcomes each Jewish holiday with the zest that is hard to match when you've been raised with such traditions and they may have lost some of their excitement. So our boy is half Jewish, but does not think of himself as Jewish, nor any religious identification really although I have heard him refer to himself as more Buddhist than anything (could it be that taking him on a pilgrimage to the sacred sites of Buddha's life along with a Tibetan Rinpoche made an impression?).

But I diverge. My point here is to comment on the journey of the Bar Mitzvah. According to the website Judaism 101's page on Bar Mitzvah (http://www.jewfaq.org/barmitz.htm), a boy automatically becomes a "bar mitzvah" at age 13 when he is now seen as old enough to be responsible for his own actions. The ceremony is a relatively new creation to mark this automatic relationship with God and the community. For that ceremony, it is common for the teen to study long hours for many months if not years so that on the day of his (or her in the case of a bat mitzvah) ritual, he is able to prove his knowledge of Judaism through a recitation of, at minimum, a blessing in Hebrew to as much as performing most of the religious service. All this is to demonstrate to the community the young person has taken on the religious obligations of an adult.

Our boy did not go through the rigorous study I've seen others do as they prepare for their ceremonial Bar Mitzvah. He did however, prove (to us at least) his assumption of responsibility. He made a heartfelt commitment to studying for the ISEE, even when it wasn't convenient or worse, interfered with better options. It wasn't easy and was, for the most part, self directed. Once he set his sights on the power he wanted to have over his options for schools, all we had to do was get out of his way and provide the logistical support to make tutoring happen. He struggled. He often hated it. And, he never stopped.

While the ISEE doesn't exactly mirror religious rites as there is very little that could pass for sacred, it mirrors rites of transition quite closely. In our mostly profane culture many things, including test taking, have become a form of sacred...something separate from the normal everyday life, that holds in it a certain magic and mystery. (But I certainly know many who would argue that point with me.)

Regardless, the journey our boy has taken with this process has mirrored the stages of Van Gennep's rites of passage as defined in his book aptly named, The Rites of Passage. The first of these stages include the "rites of separation" which in this case involved the hours spent removed from other activities to prepare for the test (Van Gennep, 11). He was separated from his friends, his brother, his parents, fun in general, all for the purpose of preparation.

Today, he embarks on one of the major steps in the center rites of the journey, "liminal rites (rites of transition)" (Van Gennep, 11). These rites will last for a time and in some ways are themselves preparatory. Yes, today he takes the test for which he has been preparing for months, but the test in itself is in preparation for the eventual transition to high school, which in turn is in preparation for adulthood. But this sort of thinking is part of what clouds the steps in themselves and muckies up the water so as not to see clearly the rites in themselves along the way. This test, today, is the liminal rite he's been building up to, working for and separating himself from others to ready himself for the ordeal that is this test. What he is doing right now while he fills in bubbles on the scantron is the test, is the time when he shows the community what he has learned and that in doing the preparation and the test, he has proven he is ready to take on more responsibility for his own journey. I have witnessed this fully and I have been both moved and impressed, while simultaneously knocked off kilter by the awareness that my little boy is transformed.

As he left today, I hugged him good-bye and wished him good luck. His head was next to mine, ear to ear. I felt his body within my embrace and he was different. It was one of those moments when you get surprised by something you already know. 

The final stage in Van Gennep's theory is incorporation. That part is yet to be seen. Who will return from this ritual trial of the intellect? How will our family, his friends and society embrace him? As changed? Altered? Different? With so little cultural understanding of passages and the value of preparation for and facing directly, challenges of the body, mind and soul, what can I expect? I know for me, these are often the rites for which my acknowledgement is weakest. Perhaps it is enough to let him know that I see him. I witnessed his journey with joy, awe and honesty. I have watched his struggle and seen his courage.

What more could I want for my child/man, than to witness him choose his own rite of passage, his own place of growth into strength and to see him step into the place that shows he has taken the obligations of an adult, at least in terms of the religion of education (in a culture that reveres science above all Gods, I think it is perfect to refer to it that way).

My job now is simply to get out of his way. That and to always let him know that I see him, truly see him, as he is today, not for the boy he once was, but for the young man he is.

That is no easy task. But, that is also where my journey as mother is, in some ways, a parallel journey, a parallel rite of passage. Mine is of ever greater trust and progressively letting out longer and longer thread, ever expanding my children's flight range so that one day, they are each totally free to fly off in the direction of their dreams guided not by me, but by their own deeply internalized True North.

The Gift of Seventh Grade

There are many gifts we've received from our journey away, some were expected, others less so and some were complete surprises. Currently, I'm very aware of one...or better said, two such gifts; my children.

Yes, this is going to be one of those type of posts so if you're not in the mood, just don't read.

First off, I hated seventh grade. I mean hated it. It was a rough year for me on so many levels; my sister left for boarding school and left me alone at home with just my mom, I didn't have the nicest of friends even though I was the second best friend of the most popular girl in school (at least for part of the year), and that was the year I experimented with rule breaking way more than any other year of my life. Yeah, it wasn't a great year, but likely even worse for my mom. I figured that part out pretty quickly when I saw how hard she was working with herself after I broke into her tiny stash of booze without asking (her main rule) along with said "popular girl" best friend. Yes, this was seventh grade. And while it's hard for me to imagine my now 8th grader doing the same sorts of things, I remember it vividly and have dreaded his 7th grade year for most of his young life.

I guess that's why I decided to spend every s i n g l e moment of his 7th grade year with him. Clearly...WHAT was I thinking?! Seventh grade had to be the worst year ever to spend with no release from togetherness! How would we make it through?

Perhaps the biggest shock of the year for me had to do with the reality of our time in close togetherness. Yes, we witnessed our 12 year old become 13 in all the ways that manifests and some days it was beyond rough! Even still, the majority of time was pretty good verging on great.

But the biggest shock is how our time together has sent ripples into our lives at home. I truly enjoy spending time with my 13 year old! The same is true of my ten year old although far less shocking as he's still cute, tender, and likes to be read to at night. But to be close, connected and enjoy the company of a teenager, my teenager? That's, well...magical! That's the word that sums it up best, the trip had a magical effect on the relationship I share with my older boy.

It was the time we spent together yes, but it was more than that too. Being together for so many uninterrupted days also allowed me to see him more clearly. I got that he's no longer the super cute little blonde-headed boy with the sweet way of talking, but rather a good human being growing into a wonderful young man.

When he turned 13 he asked for privileges, specific privileges and laid them out for us to discuss. He gave us time to consider them and get back to him. Even in the way he approached his birthday and his own aging process showed me his deepening maturity. How could we NOT grant him his requested privileges? I wanted him to know that I could see how he's grown. Giving him more responsibilities as well as privileges was a tangible way to say to him, "I see you are growing and I trust who you are now." I want him to feel that from me.

What changed? I'm not sure exactly. I'm not sure when it changed or exactly how. We started by letting up a bit on what we thought was right and wrong based on what's comfortable outside of our family unit. What mattered to us was only what mattered to us as no one else was ever really around. Clarity of our personal family values was deeply aided by only being around one another.

For example, we really don't care much about swearing and my boys will be the first to tell you that "Granny has the biggest potty-mouth around." We talked about swearing and when and with whom you are allowed to swear (Granny was OK, but older generations in general are not). We found that letting a few F-bombs and so forth go at times of stress or frustration actually cut the intensity of the situation for all of us. The kids kind of enjoyed hearing us catch ourselves tongue in check in the midst of a good old fashioned curse session. For the kind of potty mouth I have, I'm really impressed how clean my language has been around my kids for the past 13 years. And as a result, when the reins loosened a bit, it was enjoyable for all of us.

We watched things together that families (particularly in our Waldorf-inspired school community) would find beyond inappropriate and loved it. We laughed, discussed and allowed boundaries to expand. Same was true with our audiobook selections which did create opportunities to explain, express and swallow our own best intentions.

More than how we broke our own rules was how we showed up for our boys. We weren't their friends, but we were their parents and we were always there. They watched us and we shared nearly every moment. We taught them our favorite complicated, highly-strategic, card game and they learned to beat us. We struggled to get along. We fought. We argued. Doors were slammed. But after every fight, we were still there and so were they as there was no where else to go. We were forced to figure our how to make up after a fight better than ever before. Upset could not hang around long... there just wasn't room in our suitcases!

Now as a result of these struggles through the moments where we wanted to run away, I have found that I really like being with my kids. We still argue and my 13 year old still drives me crazy, but it feels different. Mostly now, when he's driving me crazy, I can still somewhere find a smile on my face to go with my irritation and frustration.  I see him beneath his upset and often it makes sense.

One of the exercises we did at Thich Nhat Hanh's community in France called Plum Village was what they called "Beginning Anew" ceremony with the teens.  During that ritual teens got to speak to their parent in a particular way and express what they may not have expressed previously. I had always thought I knew what my son thought of me and our relationship. I thought I had a pretty good sense of what he liked and didn't like. I knew we triggered each other pretty easily and that neither of us liked that much. But what I didn't know was that one of my favorite parts of our relationship is also one of his and that he values it possibly as much as I do. Now, when I find myself with time to just chat, like I did tonight, I let myself fall into his space, his speed, his rhythm and his story. I ask, but mostly I listen. We laugh, I get laughed at, and we connect.

It's been helpful to me to remember being in eighth grade. That was the year I left home for boarding school. It's an easy year to remember as I was only on that particular campus for one year and it was my first year away so the memories are stark, vivid, and close to the surface. I was 13. He is 13 now. I was soooo grown up. He's...well it is highly possible that he feels as grown up as I did back then and maybe he's more mature than I might believe is even possible for this child-man who was a newborn such a short time ago.

I know I'm messing some things up. I know I'm imperfect as a mother, especially a mother of a teenager! I'm new at this. I remind him of that. Just as his being older is newish to him so too is it new to me. We're figuring this whole thing out together. One thing is certain, we aren't done growing yet! I'll do my best and fail a lot. He'll do what he can to be patient with me, but he'll suck at that too. But this bumpy awesome ride is the nature of adolescence. It isn't boring.

My main question now...where are we going when our now ten-year-old enters seventh grade? That much dreaded year has come and gone relatively smoothly for one and is but two years away for the other. I don't know...how about another lap of the globe?