The Christmas Bah-Roo: A Tail of Hope - Part II

December 24th, Christmas Eve: The day before Christmas turns out to be a busy day - we lost most of the day before due to the impromptu acquisition of Snowy the dog from L.A. Love and Leashes. All that we didn't finish yesterday needs to be done today combined with the list that had already been formed just for the day of Christmas Eve. We still have to finish putting out the Christmas decorations (boxes and boxes of stuff), make cookies for Santa, wrap final gifts and clean up. Along with the just the usual meal making, etc. Daughter 1 has a riding lesson at the barn. We need to get dog food for the dog (we only have kibble that is left over from our 90+ lb dog, not suitable for a 20 pounder.) Church plans are scrapped - there is literally not enough time and we don't want to be away from the dog for that long of a period since everything is new and uncertain to her. We want at least one of us around for her during the day - although we do have plans to go out for Chinese food for dinner. I am absolutely not making dinner tonight.

Snowy the dog follows us around all day. Never letting us out of her sight. In the 24 hours since bring her home we learn the following about her:

• She snores: Last night I had her on one side of me in a little makeshift bed on the floor. My husband was on the other side (in the bed, not on the floor). It felt like Surround Sound of snoring activity. 
• She doesn't care for the menu: Last night we only had our late dog's oversized kibble which was probably also stale - so I get it. But, we end up purchasing Solid Gold: Just a Wee Bit, which is a high rated dog food (my husband does the research) and she turns her nose up. She does like people food, though. We have a friend that make her dogs fresh food everyday - sure hope Snowy's not used to that, because I don't think that's going to happen over here. I am not sure if she is not eating because of stress, sadness or just because it's a new taste.  My husband says when she gets hungry enough, she'll eat.  
• She loves walks: Wow. She's like regular dogs who actually get excited at the sight of the leash and runs to the front door, tail wagging. We are stunned. The girls can even clip the leash onto the dog's collar without being growled at, bitten, or otherwise fearing for their life. She looks so cute and gung-ho on the walk - and boy, I can't believe how fast such little legs can walk (makes a real cute clip, clip, clip sound, too!)
• She doesn't respond to "Snowy": Okay, that's probably not her real name. She doesn't seem to have any name recognition at all. We try Chloe and Zoe. Nope. Well, it was probably a good name for a dog at Christmas time in the adoption center - and the girls like it. So, I guess it will stay.
• She doesn't bark: We notice she is unusually quiet. At first I worry that maybe she had her vocal cords cut, but then we do a little more research which leads us to believe she is part Basenji; she has the wrinkle between the brow, the big ears, the shape of her face, the short coat and the curly tail. And the no barking - definite clue. We are delighted. White German Shepherd mix - bah!
• She's affectionate: Snowy apparently loves attention and being petted. She wants to be part of the pack and follows us around everywhere (especially me.) We are cautious and apprehensive at first, but gain more confidence over the day. This dynamic generates a lot of sharing about how traumatized we all felt over the experience with our late dog, Udo.

Taking Snowy on trips in the car is an added, unexpected bonus. She loves the car. She is small enough that she can travel around with us and go places where she is allowed. My husband and the girls take Snowy with them to the pet store to get her proper kibble. They return with the goods plus a brand new red collar to adorn her neck. Daughter 1 thought red would be the perfect color for Snowy. She was right - Snowy looks stylish. Red sets off her white and grey coat perfectly.

Our first separation from Snowy occurs when we leave to go out for Chinese food. Luckily the restaurant is close - we'll only be gone about an hour. But we feel bad leaving her alone. Although she has been following us around all day - she's probably beat and would finally enjoy a nice nap. 

When we return home our predictions of her having Basenji blood are confirmed. As we emerge from our car we hear the strangest sounds emerging from our home - something that sounds like a cross between braying and a yodel - this is the Basenji bah-roo. We burst into laughter. The unexpected sound delights us to the core. 

We excitedly open the door to our bah-rooing animal. She is so happy to see us. We are so happy to see her. Seeing her wagging tail, her welcoming doggy body language, her openness to our affectionate pats and pets - I experience this welling of feeling in my chest. I can't quite tell if I am sad or happy. Maybe the feeling is grief; maybe the feeling is relief; maybe the feeling is joy. Maybe it is all of these.

The Christmas Bah-Roo: A Tail of Hope - Part I

Friday, December 23rd, The Mission: Visit Santa Claus. Time is running out. Daughter 2 wants to see Santa because how on earth would he know just what she wanted otherwise - and the stakes are high this year with her heart's desire being the Kanani doll, the Girl of the Year from American Girl. We had been to American Girl Place at the Grove just last week and the stock of Kanani items was shrinking. A desperate state of affairs.

Now, my preference was to visit old Santa at the Westside Pavillion - smaller lines, quicker  trip (long to-do list with Christmas around the corner) and we could have lunch at Nordstrom's afterwards. But I could see the glitter and glamour of visiting Santa at the Grove  gleaming in my children's eyes. We wait for Dad to finish his business meeting then all take off mid-morning for the fancy outdoor mall. Upon arrival we are number 492 in line for Santa - over a three hour wait. Not happening. Disappointing, as this destination was far, far away from our home.

We did a quick run through at American Girl Place (the place was packed and watch out for those mommies and grandmas with the huge red bags - might run you down!). All items of Kanani had been completely sold out. Now the pressure for Santa to come through was really on. Daughter 1 buys a silly knitted hat the shape of a horse's head at a little vendor cart (she's horse obsessed). Then we take off.

New destination: Westside Pavillion and Santa Claus. We actually find a parking place not too far from an entrance and we are on our way. Santa's line is manageable (but slow moving). Success looks to be had.  While waiting in line we take turns looking into the shops. On one return, Daughter 1 and Dad arrive with news that there is the cutest dog down on the first floor at the new L.A. Love and Leashes Adoption Store. Groan. Now it's my turn to accompany said Daughter to the animal adoption center as the line is moving s.l.o.w.l.y. Double groan. About seeing the dog. I really don't want to.

I dutifully go downstairs to the L.A. Love and Leashes Adoption Center. Daughter 1 and Daughter 2 accompany me. The dog is a little mutt type. White. Grey spotted ears. Short legs. Curly tail. Kind of cute, but nothing to get too excited about. Daughter 1 is all excited and exclaiming how cute the dog is and how it came up to her. I read the posted paper about the dog. Name: Snowy. Age: Thirteen-years-old. Oh. My. God.

I turn to the girls. "Girls, this dog is thirteen. She's not going to live much longer. One or two years if we're lucky. I don't want you to have to feel sad about another loss." They assure me that they know and they understand. While we are looking at the dog a man comes up to Daughter 1 and recognizes her from the barn where she rides; his daughter rides at the same barn. His wife runs the adoption center. Groan. A connection to bring us in deeper. I hustle the girls back up to Santa with the hope that that will be that. Visit Santa. Lunch a Nordstrom's. Back home to finish getting ready for Christmas. All neat and tidy.

Finally we get to see Santa. Daughter 1 decides that she'll sit with Santa, too, this year (even though we didn't expect her to - she is thirteen); but she thinks it'll be fun to wear the horse hat in the photo and she's feeling silly and fun. Santa's lovely and the picture turns out darling. I'm ready for lunch!

Then my husband suggests we all go down to the adoption center. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. You may wonder why I am so leery about this whole scenario. You see, we just survived a major fiasco with our last dog.  After years of dealing with unwarranted doggy aggression and mental illness, I have absolutely no desire to get another dog any time soon if at all (and I've always been a dog lover.)  Daughter 2 has been lobbying the past month for a dog for Christmas. No way. I keep telling the kids maybe in a year, but in my mind it's actually, maybe never.

So, back at the adoption center we look at the dog again. The other dad whose wife runs the operation encourages the girls to take the dog for a walk. I'm overwhelmed with mixed emotions. I feel bad for this dog - she's thirteen, who the hell is going to adopt her? She's a big medical bill waiting to happen. She does seem friendly and the girls can actually pet her. But I still feel tense and scared each time anyone goes to touch her. I really do not want a dog right now. And I'm hungry. I appeal to my family's hunger factor and we all go to lunch.

During lunch I'm trying to figure out what my husband's deal is with this dog. Is he really thinking we are getting this dog? What are the girls feelings? Does everyone understand this is an older dog and that we could experience her loss in the very near future? Daughter 1 seems to have a strong desire for and connection to this dog. Daughter 2 prefers to have a pug (there is not one there, just a lot of Chihuahua mixes), but really she loves all animals and would be happy with anything that is small enough that she could actually walk it herself.

I can't believe we are having this discussion. From a practical point of view, I am  thinking, "No way." But I am also feeling here. And I am trying to understand. Because I know from our last experience that we feel we have a psychic debt because we took a life so that we feel we owe a life. If we got another dog, it was going to be a "rescue."  I am also taking into account my oldest daughter's connection with this dog. It came up to her. She is the one who suffered the most from our last dog's aggression. I know that although logically she knows it is not her fault, that being a child she will still feel some responsibility for our other dog's death. Feelings aren't logical.

The girls go back to L.A. Love and Leashes while we pay the bill and I try to ferret out what the heck my husband's stance is on this one. It comes down to the fact that we both believe it is very unlikely that anyone will take on a dog this age and we feel we owe the universe a debt. But we are still not committed. We are hoping when we go down, that maybe someone else will have already miraculously adopted the dog.

Back at Love and  Leashes. We cautiously pet the dog. My husband picks her up to make sure she is not aggressive.  We try to find out her back story (surrendered by her owners a couple of days before to Los Angeles Department of Animal Services and the owners didn't speak very good English, that's all they know.) I am trying to figure out if she likes us and wants to go with us, but there is so much going on and the dog just seems to want to leave the mall, period. We notice her jumping up on an older lady and make the connection that her other owner may have possibly been a senior. I am hoping this lady will take her. She leaves.

I am filled with anxiety. My husband is afraid to commit. He's afraid of making a mistake again. So am I. We are worried about aggression rearing its ugly head. After confiding to the other dad about our experience, he assures us he will take the dog back if it doesn't work out. That sounds good. An escape plan.

Finally, I just say okay. I can't stand the thought of her not being adopted simply because she is old. She walks so nicely with the girls and seems to be handling the stress of the whole crazy atmosphere well. Even as I say, "yes", I am filled with anxiety and my heart feels tight. My husband conveniently disappears with the girls to take the dog for a walk outside while I fill out the paperwork.

While I am at the main table waiting to take care of business, one volunteer says the dog seems like a white German Shepherd and Corgie mix (I feel like waving my hands in the air and letting her know that the Shepherd part is not a good selling point for us.) Then another volunteer suggests that I get pet insurance because she just spent $2500 on medical bills for her dog (umm, are they really trying to get me to adopt this dog?) That's then topped off with "male" being written down for the dogs gender - big freak out moment as I definitely don't want a male dog, but it turns out to be an error.

Finally, all the proper papers are signed. A check is written (by me.) The bell is rung. And we are congratulated for being the new owners of Snowy.

My husband and I are shell-shocked. What on earth have we done? We are still on the first floor, so we stumble out the door to the outside. Since I'm better at navigating the car out of the parking garage because I know this mall better, I volunteer to get the car and pick them up outside (I am also going off the fact that my poor husband doesn't look like he can really emotionally maintain right now, so I better handle the heavy machinery.)  I have to pay a five dollar fee since we were there waaaaay over the free three hours due to dithering over the dog. Nice.

I pick everyone up. Snowy jumps in eagerly. The dog loves car rides in direct proportion to our other one not . She seems happy. She has stinky dog breath coming from her enthusiastic wide-open mouth. Her tail is wagging. She's probably hoping we are taking her back to her owner. Poor thing.

She seems unsure when we arrive at our house. We feel unsure, too. All of us feel not quite safe petting her. Already, her acquisition has brought forth discussion on how scared we felt with our other dog and how we no longer trusted any dog. Wounded souls. We and this new dog. And so we step into our house and begin again...

To be continued...

Sharing Sleep: A Bad Habit?

Are you worried about nursing your baby or toddler to sleep? Wondering if your child is ever going to sleep on his own? Are you being bombarded with dire warnings that your kid will never go to sleep on her own and will develop bad sleep habits if you help her to get sleep each night or bed-share?

It's overwhelming, I know. This is one of foremost hot topics I hear at breastfeeding support meetings - worry about whether frequent infant waking is normal or healthy, fear that nursing a baby or toddler to sleep creates "bad habits", and pressure from all sides of the "necessity" of getting infants/children to "sleep through the night" by themselves. Often mothers will have read some sleep guru's warning of horrible future consequences in their child's sleep habits and social and intellectual development if they nurse or comfort their child to sleep.

All I can say about that is...hogwash. These sleep "experts" who try to scare parents into not meeting their baby's and children's very real needs to be near their parents (especially their mother) very likely have no experience in the natural course of nursing and child development. Did these "experts" actually have the experience of nursing their child to sleep only to discover that their child never would stop? Never is a very long time and I'll go out on a limb here and say that the answer is probably not (and I bet they most likely did not breastfeed for long anyways, if at all). Did these "experts"' actually have the experience of comforting their children to sleep for years only to find out that they had to continue this same ritual all throughout adolescence and then maybe were faced with the fearsome possibility of having to share a dorm room with their offspring in order to comfort them to sleep during the college years? I highly doubt it. How many kids have they actually known who were comforted without limits until they outgrew the need that actually displayed the horrendous outcomes they predict? I bet they haven't met any. And if they don't have the personal experience with the supposed bad outcomes from actually doing what they are warning against - how does their argument even hold any merit? It doesn't, because they really don't know. The scenarios they warn about are driven by their imaginations and fears, based on pedagogical theories not experience. I highly doubt that their "expert" advice is based on any clinical trials, either. What you are getting from them is a big, loud, obnoxious opinion with nothing real to back it up.

I highly doubt that they they have solid evidence behind these dire predictions because I happen to know from personal experience (and from knowing other parents with similar experiences) that if one does nothing (by which I mean one is not pro-active at all about trying to get the kid to go to sleep by himself, "sleep through the night", etc) but nurses the kids to sleep until they outgrow the need and also lets them bed-share for years and years that the kids do - lo and behold - eventually grow up, sleep the expected "through the night" ideal and actually want to have their own space. Really and truly your little limpet that seems as if she will never stray from your side (or breast!) will eventually sleep eight hour (or more!) stretches at a time. Not only that, but your child will eventually want their own sleep space in their own time. This could be at three or four years, it could be at twelve years. Heck if I know when that might be. Each child is unique and has their own biological rhythm so I can't say at what age this definitively occurs. I can only assure you that, indeed, it will.

I'll share my personal story because I do have experience following a more relaxed and natural course - I'm kind of on one of the far ends of the breastfeeding and bed-sharing nighttime continuum here in the U.S. (although I may not be at the very farthest end, believe it or not). I nursed each my two daughters for around six years. We have had all sorts of musical bed arrangements, child/adult bed-sharing the norm for us. My oldest daughter I gently weaned over time, but she still slept next to me to go to sleep even though she was weaned. My second daughter is the one with whom I have the experience of complete natural weaning with no encouragement or pressure from me; she nursed to sleep until just before her seventh birthday. For many years my kids were very frequent wakers (especially my oldest daughter, even after weaning). Eventually, all on their own by their own biological time-clocks, they slept longer and longer stretches; yes, my daughters do now "sleep through the night" - beautifully by the way - without any forcing at any time on our part. We have always had an open bed policy for our children - they are welcome into our family bed at any time.  Yet they were very excited when we got bunk beds for their bedroom. My thirteen-year-old has been sleeping in her bunk for the last several years with only occasional visits to our room. I have noticed that in the last couple of years she has developed a really strong desire for her own space and a need for privacy; some nights she retires totally on her own and I have no idea she's gone to bed if she hasn't come to give me a kiss. This was not a goal - it just evolved over time. Kids really do grow up.

Now, I am in no way suggesting that anyone needs to nurse their kids until they are six plus years (that would be rather unrealistic, would it not?) - this just happened to unfold as part of my unique path which has allowed me to have a very full and varied experience of breastfeeding; and my kids happen to be on the far end of the nursing continuum (I wouldn't have believed anyone if they had told me I would nurse for that long and probably would have thought they were out of their mind if they had - in fact, when I first heard someone mentioning that their six-year-old still nursed when my first child was barely a year old I was completely disgusted; go figure.) I only share this experience with you because I am am sure many "experts" would have been shaking their heads and wagging their fingers with dire predictions for my daughters' future sleep habits, intellectual abilities and psychological soundness. Well, I am happy to report that all is more than well in our little household. My daughters have developed into loving, caring, intelligent and responsible human beings admired and well-loved by their peers and by other adults. So, I am glad I trusted my instincts and honored my daughters' needs.

Because I am a big believer in a mother following her instincts, I am not going to tell you exactly how you should put your kid to sleep, where your kid should sleep or how long to nurse, etc. I am not going to fill you with fear or dogma, but encourage you to follow your heart. Each family is unique with unique personalities, circumstances and needs. I do believe, though, that helping your child get to sleep can be found with methods that trust and respect the child and his needs. Methods that are gentle and loving. Actions that foster connection and positive communication. I think it helps for parents to know that it is absolutely normal for babies, young children and older children to want to be near their parents at night (and for babies and toddlers to want to nurse); there is nothing wrong with their child. Children are biologically wired to seek protection and safety during a time of vulnerability (of which sleeping is one.)

What really bothers and concerns me is that advisers abound who warn against comforting children to sleep and sharing sleep (these could be authors, sleep trainers, pediatricians, social workers, your mother-in-law or your neighbor); these same advisers like to point out how many hours a day a baby or child "should" sleep and give the impression that this type of sleep is to be solitary and achieved straight through like we expect of adults thereby inaccurately insinuating that your child has a "sleep problem" that needs to be "fixed." This is distorting facts. Babies do sleep a lot but at intervals throughout the day; babies are wired to want to sleep near their mothers and quite often will fall asleep after nursing - this is normal, not pathological. The wakeful sleep that infants have is also protective for their health as it may protect against SIDS. It is also normal for toddlers and young children to wake frequently at night and to seek the company of their parents (especially their mothers.) This is not pathological. There is nothing wrong with your child if your child is doing just as he was biologically designed. He will grow out of it. Truly. What is distorted are adult perceptions of what constitutes normal sleep for babies and children. The problem seems to be more one of attitude and ideology.

My blood especially boils when advisors use fear tactics to not only try to scare parents into not trusting their child's natural biological sleep patterns, but also to encourage parents to disengage from their child by ignoring their child's nighttime needs. Scaring parents from listening to their instincts and to their child's needs breaks positive and essential communication between the parent and child by undermining the very essence of healthy family relationships - trust, respect and love. I believe that we can trust our children when they tell us they need comforting to sleep and when they express their desire for our presence in the wee hours of the night. We can also respect their needs by finding a way to meet them. By doing this, we assure them that they are loved. We do not need to be afraid of love.

So does sleeping with your child create a bad habit? Well, let's put it this way: One man's trash is another man's treasure - or, it's all how you look at it. In our family, we are still very active in putting our youngest daughter to sleep. We still prepare her bath, brush and floss her teeth in the evening, read a story and lie next to her while she falls asleep. She wants us there while she falls asleep. I could view her desires as "manipulative"or as a "bad habit";  or I could just accept them at face value as her knowing what she needs to feel secure. Do I have to lie next to her to help her to fall asleep? No. I could just kiss her goodnight and stand firm that it's bed time right now and mommy has things to do. Actually, she's very understanding when I do have pressing things to do, but she prefers to have me or my husband there if at all possible. That's okay with us because we see how fleeting this time is. How this time is an opportunity to connect and bond with her. To find out secret dreams, listen to worries or hear confessions which seem to naturally arise during the moments before falling to sleep. My husband and I are very aware of how this time will one day not be there any more. We see it already with our adolescent - the time to connect in this specific way passes and that's it. That was your moment. So for us, no it's not a bad habit, but a wonderful good habit.

My life has been deeply enriched by meeting my daughters' nighttime needs. I understand my girls better and have a deeper connection with them because I chose to keep the lines of respect and communication open between us. My hope for other mothers and families is that they will trust their heart and trust their child. Children have all the information they need to grow well inside of them if we only would listen. We need listen during the day and we need to listen at night. This is a lot more work and sometimes inconvenient. But, in the end, our lives are made more whole by these experiences. They help give us wonderful relationships that are deep and rich as well as giving us precious memories to enjoy when our children grow beyond this time of intense need. Fear not the bad habit and doomsday predictions. Instead, enjoy the wonderful opportunity for creating a deep and lasting love in your life...

Nurturing Tolerance

Last week I took a special field trip with my oldest daughter. Usually we go on field trips altogether, both of my daughters and I, but this was a special place not appropriate for my nine-year-old. Our destination? The Museum of Tolerance.

I have passed by this sign so many times on the freeway. I'd always noticed it, but didn't know much about it. Actually, something about the word "tolerance" made me feel vaguely uneasy - somewhere in my mind it seemed linked to the word "torture."  I am not the only one who thought that; when I told Daughter #1 we were invited to go, she mentioned the same uneasy feelings about the tolerance/torture connection. Which seems weird, I know, because tolerance is an essential and beautiful thing. But, I guess the word also triggers a unsettling feeling of the consequences of intolerance (which is unfortunately rampant in the world.)

It wasn't my idea to go. A very dear friend whose daughter is the same age (and who will be celebrating her Bat Mitzvah next summer) invited us to join them. Which was perfect as my daughter had been studying World War II (probably part of the reason she didn't want to go as she had an inkling of what to expect.) The potential of this experience was further enhanced by our cultural backgrounds. My friend and her daughter are Jewish and lost many family members in the Holocaust; my husband's mother (now deceased) was German and lived in Germany as a teenager during WWII - she lost a brother in the war (he was a soldier) and her pastor father was tortured by the Nazi's for helping Jewish people.

Our field trip started out in a bizarre fashion. Or, rather, I've just lived a sheltered life. When we arrived at the parking garage, I was stopped by a guard who mumbled something about needing to see my driver's license and something else which I didn't catch. So I fumbled around for my license, which of course I had not put in the proper slot, while the guard walked back up the incline - which I thought was little strange, but maybe he was worried about another car possibly entering. Finally found my driver's license and waved it out the window so he would know I was ready. But he stayed where he was and sternly said something about my needing to open the trunk of the car. Oh! That's what he had mumbled before (it wasn't just me, my daughter didn't hear the dude say trunk either). That was astonishing for me - I don't think I've ever had my car inspected before as if I could be carrying dangerous weapons and this encounter suddenly highlighted for me a visceral sense of the potential danger of hatred. I thought I was just going to a museum. Instead, there existed the possibility of violence.

Upon entering the exhibit, we needed to have our persons and purses go through the scanners like at the airport. I failed the test and had to be pulled aside to get scanned with the handheld doo-hickie and for some reason I needed to lift the hem of my pants so they could see my ankles (I hadn't shaved my legs for a bit, so that was slightly embarrassing!) My thirteen-year-old found my inspection very amusing. Her dowdy old mom - a suspect!

There were swarms of school kids there for field trips - junior high and high school. We descended the spiral ramp adorned with beautiful black and white photographs of the Holocaust survivors who volunteer at the Museum of Tolerance (MOT). The tour begins with information and exhibits about bullying and hatred and social justice and tolerance by looking at both historical and contemporary examples. Many of the exhibits are interactive using video footage and computer screens.

In the school crowd, there were all types of students. Some really into it. Others just passing the time. Some just goofing with their peers. I felt grateful that our daughters were there with my friend and me. In our small group of four we got a chance to discuss our impressions and feelings about the subject matter. This was heavy-duty and sensitive material and some of the exhibit had pretty intense, violent imagery. After the video about cyber-bullying our daughters got a chance to share with us what they might do in that situation (that was actually thanks to my friend - she is great at asking questions while I usually like to take in everything silently.)

We then began the section on the Holocaust. The newly acquisitioned Hitler letter detailing his plans was on display. We tagged along with one of the groups and we got to hear the docent explain about WWII and how many people blame only Hitler for the atrocities when in fact there were so many people, ordinary people, who were also to blame for the immense human suffering that occurred. I really liked how the Holocaust section began with each person taking a card with the picture of a child who lived during that time; at the computer stations we inserted our cards and we got to know about our child and their family; at the end of the exhibit, we find out our child's fate.

Midway through the Holocaust exhibit we left to hear a Holocaust survivor speak in the auditorium. All I can say is - wow. This is a must for everyone over the age of thirteen. Hearing this incredible woman share her story left the greatest impression on me, my friend and our daughters. All we saw, heard and discussed up to this point in the exhibit was brought poignantly to life. Living and breathing in front of us.

After a quick pick-me-up lunch in the upstairs cafe (we were literally wilting as we had already been there three hours, although I felt a little guilty about feeling hungry after hearing the Holocaust survivor speak), we had enough energy to resume the Holocaust exhibit - which we all exclaimed was made so much more tangible after hearing an actual Holocaust survivor share her story with us. The part we resumed at was the point where a lot of human suffering and really unimaginable acts perpetrated on people were illuminated. This level of atrocity and suffering - there are no words to describe the feelings that learning the specifics of it invokes.

As a mother, I felt overwhelmed just imagining the heartbreak and agony of the families ripped apart. The human suffering. The gross cruelty. Since I work with mothers and babies, one of the last sections detailing newborn infants thrown out of windows their to their deaths was particularly disturbing and shocking to me - I just can't get that mental image out of my mind; the complete detachment one has to have from the very essence of their humanity to do such an act - I find that so very frightening.

I guess what is so truly frightening is that human suffering at the hands of others due to hate, fear, ignorance and bullying still happens every day. All over the world. And not just in far away places, but here. Here in our own cities. Perhaps our own neighborhoods and schools.

Going to the MOT reminded me of both our vulnerability and our responsibility. As a mother, I worry for my children, all of our children, entering a world inhabited by people who act upon intolerance, bigotry, fear and hate. As a woman with daughters, I am constantly aware of our vulnerability just as women. Hatred, discrimination and violence across the world is directed towards women. But, such acts also happen to men; and to children. Hatred is hatred and where it is fostered it will always try to find a target - any group, person, race - that it can fixate on.

Which brings us to responsibility. The responsibility of nurturing tolerance in our own lives. We can't control what others say and do. But we can control what we say and do. We can be conscious of how we respond to others and make a point to de-escalate violent words and actions. Not by force, but by trying to understand. We can become aware of our own prejudices and intolerances. We can help by being aware of what we think and say. Being aware of how we deliver what we want to say. Being aware of how we treat people. Being aware of how other people are treated. Having the courage to take action when someone is treated wrongly.

As mothers and fathers we can take action by nurturing our babies and children. Loving them, honoring them and gently guiding them seem to be the first steps in the mission to a more tolerant and accepting world. If a baby or child does not experience loving nurturance and acceptance, then how much more difficult may it be for this child to be able to give this to others? To exhibit forbearance and tolerance later in life?

I am someone who likes happy endings - I never finished Tess of the d'Urbervilles because after I awhile I saw where that novel was headed. So, I probably wouldn't have gone to the MOT without the encouragement of my dear friend. My daughter wasn't so eager to go either. But we were both blown away. We learned so much that day. We felt the fear of violence. We felt the sadness of loss. We felt the triumph of survival. We felt the hope of building a better future. This experience made such an impression on us that my husband wants to see exhibit, too; especially to hear a Holocaust survivor speak since the chance for this precious encounter will not always be possible. So, we have a date planned for the near future. A date for the heart, the soul and the mind - a date for a more tolerant future.

Tolerance. Compassion. Love. Believe in it and live it.



Photo credits from Flickr: 
"Holding Hands" - M.MartinPhotography
"Tolerance" - Peconic Windsurfer

My Inner Compass: A Path to Thanks Giving

Photo credit: John - Heaven's Gate (Flickr)

The frenzy of the holidays is now upon me. Today has been spent baking and cleaning as we prepare for Thanksgiving (the cleaning is no small task in our house; I am looking around in despair - was not this place somewhat cleaned up just two days ago? Aghhhh!) And the preparations always take much longer than I think they will take; I thought the kitchen would be clean already but I was blindsided by the amount of time the baking has taken. Right now I am avoiding a sink full of dishes to clean and dry (our dishwasher broke - should add an interesting component to the holiday.) This is the third round of dishes and pots and pans today. Ugh.

Despite all this, I am looking forward to the holiday. Thanksgiving has special meaning in our family. On my mother's side of the family, our ancestors came across on the Mayflower. One was the guy that fell overboard but managed to catch hold of some rope and got pulled back on board - good thing or I might not be here today. (The fact of his falling overboard is pretty exciting to our family as he is actually mentioned in books describing the incident.) His name was John Howland. He married fellow Mayflower passenger Elizabeth Tilley; they had ten children and eighty-eight grandchildren. I am trying to wrap my mind around those figures. They had more grandchildren than I had guests at my wedding. Wow. That also makes me distantly related to George W. Bush and Sarah Palin. Bummer.

I wonder what my ancestors thought and felt before they took this passage across the ocean to an unknown land. This was a dangerous journey to an "untamed" area - the New World. Such a journey required enduring known and unknown hardships culminating in trying to survive in a new environment with virtually nothing. This was an act that took enormous faith and courage. I think also an enormous trust in following one's instincts or heart. Stepping foot onto the Mayflower changed the course of their lives forever.

We all have different journeys that come up during the course our lives which hold the potential to transport us to a whole new realm of living and understanding. One of my most profound journeys began when I became pregnant with my first child. I stepped foot onto a path that would forever change who I was, what I thought and how I behaved. And yet, I did not know it at the time. I simply said, "Yes. I am taking this journey to a New World" without fully realizing what this New World would entail nor where it would take me.

Photo credit: Ryan G. Dickerson (Flickr)

I didn't know a thing about this journey of parenting. I had not planned nor prepared for it beforehand in any way. I knew absolutely nothing about birthing, breastfeeding or the responsibility of caring for another human being on any conscious level (although instinctively all that is there if we don't let society get in the way - but I didn't know that either.) What I did have was an internal compass - an internal guide (feeling) that let me know I was on the right course. And I had fortuitous encounters with outside guides (like a chance meeting with someone or finding the perfect book) which bolstered me, encouraged me and affirmed that I was headed in the right direction.

While I wasn't sure of specifics of how to get there, I did know where I wanted to go: I wanted the very best, most healthy start for my children; I wanted them to know how deeply they were loved; I wanted them to have a strong core sense of self which would offer them the best resilience to the obstacles that life would inevitably throw their way; I wanted them to have a solid understanding of who they were as individuals and a strong internal compass that would guide them well on their own journeys in life.

For me this journey started with an interest in natural childbirth - that was kindled accidentally by a neighbor who was studying the Bradley Method for her own birth. And one footstep down this path led to another and another. Desire for a natural childbirth led to an interest in breastfeeding; a little book called Twenty-Five Things Every New Mother Should Know led me to a La Leche League meeting (which was really unusual for me - I didn't really go to group things like that) which I loved; breastfeeding led me to the path of instinctive mothering - staying home with my children, carrying them or wearing them in a sling, bed-sharing (the crib became a really expensive clean laundry basket), and breastfeeding according to their need. I felt comfortable listening to and meeting my children's needs. Eventually my compass pointed unmistakably toward educating my girls at home. This definitely felt like a leap into the proverbial void - a journey like my ancestors into an unknown and unpredictable world.

These experiences have actually strengthened my internal compass. My intuition has become more finely tuned through mothering. My awareness of my relationships, of my environment and of all that is around me has grown. Listening to my internal compass has facilitated in me a stronger sense of self and self-confidence.  I have become more focused. More aware. More loving in a conscious way. This came from following my own unique path. Acknowledging and honoring my internal guide. And then moving forward from there.

Along this path I have cultivated friendships with some of the most wonderful people I have ever met. I would not know these fine friends if not for this particular parenting journey. If I had parented in another manner, taken a different path, our lives would not have intersected. Certainly not on any deep level. I feel so very grateful for their presence in my life.

Along this path I have taken my husband. A bit unwilling at times. Sometimes kicking and screaming. At times the path I was pointing to seemed absolutely crazy to him. It did not look like his friends' paths. It did not look like our neighbors' paths. Yet, he can now see what a beautiful and rich place this journey has taken us to (and is still taking us.) And he has influenced the journey, too  - especially during this time in our family life where he has really been trail-blazing with the girls by cultivating their interests and activities. He has become the head guide here; I am following along admiring the view.

Along this path I have experienced the deepest love I have ever known if my life, both with my children and with my husband. I have gained healing and self-confidence. I have grown in infinite ways that maybe I will never completely understand, but yet I feel like I know so much more than I ever did before I had children. This was all because I said, "Yes. Yes, I will go on a journey to a New World trusting my self, my partner and nature to provide for me all that I will need." How very grateful I feel for this journey, this path that is still unfolding before me.

For you, I hope you are approaching your own unique path with gusto, trust and openness. Follow your inner compass - your heart. It will lead you to the most exquisite and beautiful places. Go... and enjoy. Godspeed!

Photo credit: Donald Leetch (Flickr)

Safe Sleep Campaign Butchers Breastfeeding

So, breastfeeding got stabbed in the back this week with Milwaukee's launch of the new photos for its Safe Sleep Awareness Campaign. Perhaps you've seen the controversial photographs of babies sleeping in fluffy beds with big knives right next to them?

Gee, how subtle.

What I find particularly disturbing about this campaign is that by focusing on scaring people from co-sleeping the City of Milwaukee Health Department abdicates taking on the real issues contributing to infant deaths in their area. "Co-sleeping" is a easy scapegoat. Issues such as low rates of breastfeeding, alcohol and drug abuse, smoking, economic stress, poor pre-natal care, specifics of unsafe sleeping conditions, and lack of real support for mothers (especially single mothers) are swept aside. Instead, we get a one-size fits all blanket statement "Co-sleeping in a bed with your baby is as dangerous as your baby sleeping with a butcher's knife" = only a crazy, irresponsible parent would do that!

Really? This is the best solution they can come up with? How is this scare-tactic approach going to help mothers (and fathers) confronting the constant and relentless needs of their helpless infants? And it certainly does not aid the cause of increasing breastfeeding rates (which is a major public health concern) because breastfeeding success is intimately intertwined with infant nighttime needs. Simply put, babies are designed to breastfeed and they are also designed to wake frequently at night to nurse; this provides the best insurance for their growth and survival. Our babies are designed to sleep near their mothers.

Despite public health campaigns that promote crib sleeping for infants and malign bed-sharing, many mothers and babies end of sharing sleep at some point. This study investigates where babies in the U.S. really end up sleeping. When health care and government agencies fail to consider the very real needs of mothers and infants during the night, demonize bed-sharing and fail to educate parents about safe sleep conditions for bed-sharing they inadvertently put babies in greater danger. Desperate mothers in their attempt to avoid bed-sharing may accidentally fall asleep in far more dangerous places with their infants like arm chairs, rockers or sofas (which would still labeled as "co-sleeping" by our state agencies even though it's the very thing these moms are trying to avoid.)

Talk about co-sleeping invariably triggers strong emotional responses in people. In preparing to write this blog I got swept away reading people's emotion laden responses to this issue. When a baby dies, this is a heartbreaking tragedy; people rightly want to prevent this from happening. And when it comes to where babies sleep, people have strong feelings, partially from wanting to protect babies and partly from believing they know the "right way" that infants should sleep. I noticed people can be pretty judgmental about the whole thing.

The truth is we can't prevent all infant deaths - there is no absolute guarantee in any situation be it in an adult bed, a crib, a bassinet or a playpen. A mother whose infant dies in a crib is just as devastated as the mother whose baby dies in her arms or next to her. Each mother is going to wonder if she could have done something differently so that her baby could still be here. Each mother is doing her best to do the right thing. Somehow, though, society likes to point a more judgmental finger at the "co-sleeping" mom. I am not understanding the reason for this - this attitude is distinctly biased.

What would really be helpful for parents in order to decide where is the best and safest place for their infant to sleep is a good hard look at the science behind infant sleep and nighttime needs. And to give parents more accurate statistical risks of co-sleeping. We really aren't there yet as a society; misinformation abounds from popular parenting magazines and books to advice from medical caregivers. New parents are bombarded with messages that their infants should be "sleeping through the night" and often have absolutely no awareness of how normal and beneficial it is for babies to wake frequently at night. Babies wake at night frequently to nurse and to be near their mothers. This is normal. Really. And an honest and realistic discussion about what constitutes normal infant sleep and how families can meet their infant's needs is desperately needed.

Does this mean that mothers and babies have to bed-share? No. There are lots of possible sleeping arrangements, but many families are probably going to bed-share at some point even if it's just out of desperation to finally get some sleep one night. That's why anti-bed-sharing campaigns are not helpful and can even cause the very problems they are trying to stop. According to the health campaigns, this is a health issue, not a moral one, so let's really take a good look at the facts and reality. The issue is to prevent infant death by providing a safe sleeping environment. So, let's make sure sleep conditions are safe, but we also need to acknowledge the reality of infant nighttime needs.

Photo and sculpture: JeanetteRansing (Flickr)

With statements like this, "Infants may be brought into bed for nursing or comforting, but should be returned to their own safe space to sleep when the parent is ready to return to sleep," I have to truly wonder whether any of the staff at the Milwaukee Health Department are even parents who have ever cared for an infant. That statement just seems out of touch and unrealistic. The mother is the one who actually has to interact and care for her infant night after night after night after night; this care work is exhausting. Do you really think she isn't going to pass out from exhaustion at some point? Let's get real. Guidelines have got to be realistic and they've got to work. Since mothers will probably sleep with their infants at some point, let make sure everyone knows what the parameters are for safe co-sleeping or bed-sharing. That's being realistic.

And one of the ways we can make sharing sleep more safe in addition to spelling out the specifics of safe bed-sharing is by promoting, supporting and protecting breastfeeding. We really need to do more to make sure mothers and infants are able to breastfeed successfully and support this symbiotic and essential relationship. Breastfeeding is one of the major contributing factors towards preventing infant death.

In this Fox News story, "Is Sleeping with Your Infant Right or Wrong?", we see the Milwaukee Health Department's prior approach before the baby and knife photos with the same campaign using a headstone for the headboard bearing the same message - uh, it didn't really work the first round and if they are not addressing the real concerns (like not breastfeeding and how to safely meet an infant's needs) then I really don't see how it's going to have more success this time. The idea of making bed-sharing illegal strikes me as a truly frightening prospect; and warped, too - yeah, that's right, make breastfeeding next to impossible, continue policies that perpetuate a complete lack of support for families and then prosecute them when they are just trying to meet their baby's needs. Scary.

Families need support. Mothers especially need support. They need help making breastfeeding a success with public health and social policies that truly make nursing their infants possible. Not scare tactics, but real information and support services to help them make the decisions that are in the best interest of their family.

To simply admonish parents not to sleep with their infants, ever, under any circumstances, is unrealistic, quite possibly unethical, and does not provide the optimum in nutrition and sleep physiology.                                                Morgan et al. JOGNN 2006; 35: 685-691

Amen.

The Taming of the Flu

In my other life (you know, before I had kids) I decided at one point it might be a good idea to actually try to make money doing the acting thing in addition to volunteering my time in 99-seat theatre. So I took the plunge and did extra work; the best money in extra work is in commercials. My first job in the commercial world was for a product which I thought no one would use. We shot all day at Union Station in downtown Los Angeles in front of a make-shift automatic teller machine - the subject was germs. Oh, those grimy, filthy germs you might get from touching the buttons on the machine right after someone else and catch you-know-not-what. I had an immediate eye roll going - like who the heck was going to buy this product? It was so over the top!

That product was Purell. And you know what, I just purchased me five bottles of that there stuff the other day (well, actually I bought the generic version at Ralphs because it had a higher alcohol content and was - as my mother would say - "the right price"). Yup. Had to eat my words almost 16 years later. I did say to never say never, right? You see, Fall has hardly just begun and I've already been dealing with colds - I kind of feel like I'm on the cold merry-go-round with never ending cold symptoms for myself minus the merry feeling. Then the kids finally came down with a cold.

This is a huge ordeal in our family. For a lot of reasons. First, if any of us gals get sick in the family I have to hear my husband's immediate and loud grumbling and complaining about how he can't afford to get sick - I understand; his Blackberry is constantly buzzing. We depend on him for the bacon. He's got to be on his game (he's self-employed) and there are no sick days off for him. I really hate the complaining, though. Mainly because some empathy first would be nice, you know? Second, I totally get something awfully close to PTSD from remembering when my kids were little and spending entire nights for days on end walking around with a sick baby/child because they were so miserable (that was before we finally figured out that a cold mist humidifier is a total godsend.) Third, my oldest girl had pneumonia for the second time last winter (the first time in first grade) and let me tell you, that's scary. So, my husband and I (being the super-emotionally intense people we are) totally flip out inside (and, okay, a little on the outside) whenever anyone is sick.

Before I had children I rarely ever got sick. I had a really healthy constitution. And I'd never really been worried about germs. Now, when someone sends their snotty nosed child over to my house or I hear someone sneezing, I freak out. Like, really, your kid is constantly sneezing and coughing and their nose is running - um, could you please not send her over to my kids' house to play? If I figure this out after the kid has already arrived, I am known for sending the kid back home. Sometimes these situations can't be helped, and sometimes I am the culprit and don't even know one of my kids is sick until later on (illnesses always seem to really come on during the late afternoon or evenings - why is that?); if I've been with friends and my child later becomes sick, I call everyone to apologize and give them the heads-up so they can take whatever precautions they like to take. Some people are relaxed about it; others go into high gear.

I've turned into a high-gear kinda gal. So, hence, the hand sanitizer. And yet, I am not really the healer type interested in medical modalities; I don't carry homeopathic remedies around with me, nor do I know all sorts of alternative healing methods -  heck, I don't even carry Band-aids in my purse (I always admire moms who do; I just can't seem to get my act together.) No one prepared me for this aspect of mothering. In my family, you got 7-Up and Saltine crackers and some Robitussin. No herbal remedies. No humidifier. My family was the generic American type of family. Standard 70's and 80's fare. You did what the doctor said (which was usually prescribing antibiotics.) My mom was really big on germs (her Master's was in epidemiology) but I remember her worrying more about food spoiling than about washing hands. Or, maybe I just never really paid attention to the hand washing part as I now remember she used to put in those little hand wipes in our lunches that I don't think I used. Yeah, I probably wasn't paying attention.

I'd rather not use over-the-counter medicines or any type of prescription medicine unless truly, truly necessary - like when it has become obvious there is no other choice. I definitely believe in the body's amazing ability to heal itself. By taking good care of our bodies and taking precautions hopefully we can ward off many illnesses; and when we do succumb to illness, giving ourselves and our families tender loving care is essential in healing. But, there is an art to healing and a core set of knowledge that's helpful to obtain - both for prevention and for healing. Since natural remedies and healing techniques are not something that has been handed down to me from my family (nor my husband's) and I don't have a natural aptitude for any of this, this is something I have to learn. I find it a little overwhelming. Just trying to get everyone to wash their hands multiple times per day has become my new job. I feel like the Hand-Sanitizer General.

I've been doing a little research and talking with friends trying to figure out how to make this year better. I've looked at conventional medical wisdom and more natural oriented approaches. This summer I took my oldest daughter (the one who has had the pneumonia) to see Dr. Lauren Feder who is an MD who also specializes in homeopathy. I hadn't had any experience with homeopathy (and my husband thinks the whole thing is whoo-haw) but I really felt compelled to do something for my daughter to boost her immune system and do whatever I could to protect her health.

A homeopathic visit felt a little like a therapy session - the doctor wants to know every single aspect of your life: who you are, your past history (birth, etc.) what your interests are, how you feel about events, etc. Then based on this, she prescribes a remedy. Dr. Feder also steered us towards Gemmotherapy which were are using this fall/winter to prevent and treat illness. Frankly, it's reassuring to have a medical professionally trained in both conventional and natural ways of treatment. Dr. Feder also has recommendations on her website for preventing colds and the flu. The only thing I kind of wonder about is the recommendation to avoid swimming during the fall/winter because the year we swam during the fall and winter was actually the one year that we didn't get sick at all (I am thinking the pool acted like one big Neti pot - no virus could possibly survive the public pool chemicals.)

So these are the strategies I am trying out this year in our family:

1. Washing our hands - a lot, especially when we walk in the front door (we weren't really doing this enough I am embarrassed to admit.) I also have hand sanitizer in each car, my purse and by the computer (no one can even touch the keys until they've doused up.) My kids think I'm nuts.
2. Taking pro-biotics and trying to eat more foods that contain these type of healthy organisms: yogurt, kefir, miso soup. I like saurkraut, but no one else in my family does, so that's out.
3. Using a saline nasal spray and then blowing our noses before bed: I really don't want to do the Neti pot - I'm sure it's better for you, but it seems a real pain in the you-know-what which means it will never get done. My youngest found the saline spray funny and each person gets their own with their name on it.
4. Drinking hot tea in the morning - good for creating a warm moist environment beneficial to the sinus area and for washing away any bad mucous that crept upon us during the night. My husband and I drink tea in the morning anyways - I am trying to entice the girls to enjoy some kind of herbal tea before breakfast. 
5. Using Gemmotherapy: The girls are taking Briar Rose and Lithy Tree once a week for prevention and have special instructions from the doctor if they get sick. Heck, I really should probably be taking the adult version, myself. Will look into that this week. (Don't know why I forget about myself).
6. Wearing slippers/socks in the house. Keeping the feet warm was a new one for me; actually, I need to get the oldest daughter and myself some slippers first - she outgrew hers and mine got chewed up by the dog. We have wood floors, so this is probably a good idea. Planning on taking care of that this week.
7. Eating lots of fruits and vegies - the girls would rather eat ice cream, but I'm going to try to make sure we have enough. The thirteen-year-old seems to have a sudden disdain for "healthy foods" and a penchant for whatever I would deem not healthy as a form of independent thinking -- wish me luck.
8. Getting plenty of fresh air and exercise - the girls generally get enough and when we go to Topanga to work with the horses (part of oldest daughter's volunteer work) we get a great boost of both, but I have got to figure out an exercise plan for myself - even if it's just walking around the block (this is every mom's lament is it not?)
9. Going to bed early - The time change and the darker evenings help here - they literally invite an earlier bedtime and act as a reminder to slow down during this part of the season. The youngest is easy; the teen - more challenging as she somehow now wakes up in the evening - go figure. For me, no blogging or Internet late into the night this winter. In bed by 10:00 p.m. is my goal. (Hopefully this will have more success than New Year's Resolutions.)

I am praying that with these endeavors we can lessen our chances of getting colds and avoid the flu. If we get a little something - well, tender loving care is the most important thing; a loving touch goes a long way in promoting healing. I think we always remember how we were treated when we were ill because we are vulnerable during this time and really need thoughtful, caring attention. I really learned the power of this healing attention from my husband who cared for me so tenderly one year when I got the flu.

An article on how doctors keep the cold and flus away, brought up chicken soup as a wonderful old-fashioned remedy. Homemade soup has all the right ingredients to make our family members feel better, plus it's filled with loving energy - can't get that store-bought! Here is our family version:

Organic Chicken Soup/Stock 

1 organic chicken, cut in parts or whole
2 stalks of celery, cut in thirds
2 carrots, cut in thirds
2 onions, quartered
1 or 2 leeks, cut in big chunks (including some of the green stalk)
1 small sweet potato, peeled and cut in half
1 tomato, quartered
3 - 5 whole cloves of garlic
Handful of parsley, including the stems
2 bay leaves
1 tsp. of thyme
1 1/2 to 2 tsp. Pink Himalayan Salt 

Place all ingredients in a large stock pot and cover with water; bring to a boil over high then turn down the heat to medium-low and simmer for 1 1/2 to 2 hours. Strain broth into a bowl. The chicken meat can be removed from the bone and used in the soup or saved for another meal. The broth can be enjoyed by itself. Or, alternatively, you can slice a couple of fresh carrots and celery and add to some of the broth in a smaller pan, cook through and add some of the chicken meat and noodles or rice for a more substantial chicken soup. I also like to freeze some of the extra stock once it has cooled. We discovered that Pink Himalayan Salt is absolutely the secret ingredient that brought the flavor of the chicken stock to a new level. Enjoy!

Wishing you good health this season! Please feel free to share your prevention tips and family remedies...

The Sacred Keeper of the Family Ritual

Santa wasn't coming to our house this year. No, I haven't been naughty (at least not naughty enough, although that might be fun) -- just wiped. After a tumultuous year feeling as if I had been on the stretching rack to the point of breaking, the thought of gearing up for Christmas just felt like too much. I just wanted to run away. You see ... I am Santa Claus. I am so sorry to break the news to you - hope I haven't shattered your whole world. I want to believe in Santa Claus, too; if only he would deliver me a personal assistant and a housekeeper life would be pretty sweet. But, it ain't happening.

Why on earth am I writing about Christmas when it's October? I hear you - I find it annoying to see shops putting up Christmas decorations in early October (saw this happening at Macy's and spotted holiday cards at Barnes and Nobles - they're on sale btw). Hello! Halloween hasn't even been celebrated yet. My kids don't even have their costumes yet either. But that's the point. Because, as soon as October hits, it's all over for me - Youngest Child's Birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Mother and Sister's Birthdays, Advent, Christmas, New Year's Eve, Epiphany and Husband's Birthday. I am tired just looking at the list. I just complete one event, come up for air and the next one is coming relentlessly at me like rogue waves in the Pacific. I know what's coming - a lot of work for me. I was pretty enthusiastic when my first was a baby, but now after thirteen years of this I think I finally realize the truth: this is work and I am the one to make it happen.

So what's happening? What am I doing? Who am I? I am the Sacred Keeper of the Family Ritual. I am going to add that to my resume - sounds pretty darn impressive. That's because it is. It's a big job. I create, prepare for and maintain the many different  experiences that that we repeat over and over as family - these are also called family traditions. Sometimes a family ritual is ordinary like eating meals together each evening; sometimes family rituals are part of annual events, like going to the County Fair or celebrating traditional holidays.

 Family rituals ranging from from simple family meals together to annual holiday celebrations have great importance on the health and well-being of our families. Family rituals hold families together. They create a sense of security and are a marker of time for us and for our children. Positive family rituals foster good communication and strong emotional connections. Here's a link to an article I like highlighting some of the benefits of family rituals (I am particularly tickled with the section under Stage 1 where it quotes, "teens who do such routine family work as washing dishes show more concern and care for others." - now that's a good reason to get your teen's hands in the soapsuds!) And here's a link to a blog post about creating simple family rituals.

In my family, I am the primary Sacred Keeper of the Family Ritual - kind of like the director and producer - I make it happen. I suspect that women are generally the ones who take on the heavy-workload part of this job - it may not be so 100% of the time, but I would bet that's the case the majority of the time. Just sayin'. My husband is more of the techie and stage prop guy who I have to direct around - he definitely adds his touches, performs a lot of the manual heavy lifting and follows through; he's just not planning or orchestrating the whole thing. The success of family rituals, however, depends on every family member's involvement, enthusiasm and support.

Family rituals make an impression on us - they affect us. The way we approach our rituals speaks volumes about who we are and what we value. They tell a story. Our family story. Are we connected to traditions handed down from our family history? Are we creating new, different rituals arising from our own individual family dynamics? Is thoughtful consciousness put into our ritual experience or is it done without thought or care? These experiences that we choose mold our children's beings and affect their experiences and the memories they will carry of family life and connectedness.

I appreciate having a reminder that the effort I put into these experiences has value. That creating and sustaining family rituals that have meaning for my family is something worth doing. When creating my family rituals these are some elements I like to keep in mind:

Breaking from the daily grind: Just getting through the day-to-day can be overwhelming; there is so much to do. Family rituals can provide a time of reprieve - whether it's as simple as purposefully gathering to watch a family movie together or as entailed as a whole day devoted to celebrating an important event.

Our Birthday Table sans the Tante Migi cake; Youngest voted for ice-cream cake this year

Yes -it's a homemade ice cream cake in all its bumpy glory

In our household, birthdays are sacred days with special family rituals. The birthday person arises to find the main dining table cleared of its myriad piles of books, school materials and what-have-you, and decorated with gifts, flowers and a special family recipe - the Tante Migi Cake; no "school work" is done on that day and we often go on a special outing; we have our special cake and open presents in the afternoon; the birthday person chooses a restaurant of their choice for a special birthday dinner (we don't go out a lot so this is a big deal.) This is the ritual that has developed over time in our little family and is now expected with great anticipation.

Bestowing beauty: A family ritual is an opportunity to consciously bring beauty into our lives. Flowers, candles, and other items that are artfully arranged can bring a sense of uniqueness and sacredness to any event. Decorations abound everywhere in stores, but I especially love things from nature or made by my children. For the fall we have collected pumpkins, gourds and leaves, and my youngest child made Halloween decorations out of salvaged wood pieces and acrylic paint. The table by our front door is a special place where we can put decorations to celebrate each season. Decorations that are saved and used year after year give children (and adults!) great delight when they are unpacked to be used for the special occasion.

The beginnings of our Autumn display

Bringing joy: A family ritual is a chance to evoke pleasure and good feelings for each family member. Anticipating and then experiencing a particular, expected family ritual can result in feelings of satisfaction and contentment. Family rituals often center around food or include food; the sharing of food raises oxytocin levels in our bodies - oxytocin is often referred to as the "love hormone"; it's the hormone that helps cinch our feelings of connectedness. We can get the same good feelings from oxytocin when we look into our family member's eyes, which is probably more likely to happen in the slower, more conscious environment involved in family ritual experiences when we are enjoying each other's company. Consciously being aware of what might particularly delight or bring joy to our loved ones during a family ritual can be fun a puzzle to solve; it could be as simple as picking out a favorite flavor of ice cream as a surprise for dessert.

Yum! At the LA County Fair

 Another article I read came to a clear conclusion about family rituals that I find so true  - (this article is a little bit longer so I'll quote the part of the conclusion I found particularly meaningful):

First, families are constructions of our own making, requiring a mindful, knowledge-driven approach to their maintenance and success. Second, family rituals are commonly underestimated and overlooked; as decades of research supports, family rituals are some of the most powerful sites of rich and meaningful family interaction, and are the primary contributors to family identity...conscious attention to making and maintaining a strong family is difficult and ceaseless, yet fruitful and highly satisfying work (my emphasis).

Yes, it is work, isn't it? That's always been my point. So, as we enter into another holiday season, know that all your efforts to create special experiences and memories for your family matters. Those family dinners, family game night, family hikes every Saturday, and special holidays - whatever it is you and your family do, it all counts. You are working hard and it's all adding up to strong bonds and positive feelings in your family - whether you're a couple or a family of ten. Creating positive, conscious family rituals creates a strong foundation on which love can flourish and grow; we can then bring forth this love into the rest of the world - it needs it. This year, for us, Santa Claus is coming to town. How about for you?

The Importance of Being Vulnerable

 I've been wanting to share this video with you . I just love this talk. Plus, I had no idea someone could even do this kind of work for a living! Sounds good to me...

There are so many things I would love to write about from Brene Brown's talk, but for this post I am just going to focus on what she said was the crux of what separated wholehearted persons from regular folks (at least regular folks here in the Western world, I'm thinking) - Brene identified the variable which separates the wholehearted from the rest of the crowd as this: wholehearted persons believe that they are worthy of love and belonging.

Wow. I think we need a moment to really absorb the profundity of that statement. The wholehearted possess a deep sense of worthiness and a strong sense of love and belonging. Does that statement make you want to cry? I feel like crying. The sad fact is that so many Americans struggle with something as basic as their feelings of worthiness. This doesn't happen in all cultures. I am remembering a statement from one of Jack Kornfield's books that said when he was training with the Buddhist monks they were perplexed by this particular (and peculiar to them) state of struggle/unworthiness - it didn't exist is their communities

Whoa. Okay. Let's just sit with that for a moment. It's not just a fact of life that everyone struggles with unworthiness. This develops somehow. There is some type of cultural difference the allows for the development of this negative state among its people.

Photo by Luca.gargano

This is a complex issue with more than one source. But I want to get back to the basics - the building blocks so to speak. In Traditional cultures, mother and baby pairs have natural births, breastfeed and remain in close contact with each other day and night. Breastfeeding goes on for several years (world-wide average is 4.5 years and that includes our crummy U.S. statistics.) A baby's dependance and need for his mother is generally understood as a normal development and to be expected of babies and toddlers. Closeness and community are encouraged.

In the U.S. distance is encouraged from the beginning. Our highly medicalized births rely  on technology and many mothers feel a distrust of their bodies as if they were machines that might malfunction at any moment; mothers and babies are more likely to be separated in a hospital birthing scenario.  Immediately after the baby is born everyone's asking and joking about whether the baby is "sleeping through the night." Babies are expected to sleep away from their mothers in cribs. Bottles and pacifiers are culturally accepted and preferred over the natural state of breastfeeding, especially in public. Mothers in the workforce have virtually no support in the workplace with pathetic maternity leaves that barely give enough time for these mothers to even get their milk supplies established, much less for them to even enjoy breastfeeding and their relationships with their infants.  Parents are encouraged to leave their infants for "date night" before the baby is barely out of the newborn period in order to assure the "strength" of their marriage/relationship. I could go on and on, but I think you get my drift.

Brene states that the underpinning for this sense of worthiness of love and belonging is rooted in vulnerability. That those who are wholehearted embrace their vulnerability as beautiful and necessary. She says that the state of vulnerability is what allows us to be seen, really seen. 

Photo by tacticdesigns

Humans are at their most vulnerable state in infancy. For a more in depth explanation of this concept, I like this article which explains the biological reasons for a baby's vulnerability and what his needs are: The Science of Attachment: The Biological Roots of Love  A baby is unable to regulate his own self and relies on his mother for regulation of his body and his emotions. He relies on his mother for nourishment. He has absolutely no concept of his separateness from the mother in the beginning - at this stage he truly is one with the world. His concept of himself as a separate being develops over time and even when he develops this awareness of himself as separate from his mother, he still needs her to help him regulate himself. He cannot meet his own needs. Human babies are in fact very dependent for a long time.

Photo by Kim+5

A baby can only try to get his needs met by communicating with his facial expressions, body language and cries. Something is not right, something feels funny - baby communicates. Is mother there? Is she responding? Is he really being seen? But the mother holds the cards of power in her ability to respond or not to his needs. Responding to her infant and helping him reach a balanced state based on his needs and his cues creates in the infant this sense of worthiness - this sense of love and belonging. This is the time to do it - in the early years - to build in the child, this incredible human being, these blocks of self-worth because it really is a more difficult job later on (if even possible.) This happens by respecting and responding to the little one's needs, by embracing his dependance and by mother being there.

And I think that this togetherness is essential for the mother in fortifying her sense of self-worth, too. She is the center of her baby's universe. She is the essential one. It is through her that her baby is nourished and satisfied. Baby thrives due to this interdependence with his mother. What some women are afraid will undermine their autonomy and independence, thinking (wrongly perhaps) that yielding to an infant's unrelenting needs may weaken their own sense of self - this act of complete giving is in fact empowering. When a mother experiences her body's ability to care for and nourish her infant - well,  Breastfeeding Makes You a Mama Bear! Mama gets her grrrrrrrroove.

Mothering through breastfeeding is also an opportunity for healing and for strengthening our own sense of ourselves. I firmly believe it is a second chance for those of us who did not get the strongest building blocks in our own infancies. Sometimes it brings up painful feelings, but by working through the discomfort in the end we come out stronger. And we also get the amazing opportunity to create strong selves in our babies and children. To relish their wholeheartedness. How can we not feel gratified by that? It's a worthy goal.