Reframing (and better understanding) My Spirited Child

I just started reading Raising Your Spirited Child (yes, I know, how did this book escape me for so long? Anyways, it has been started. I’m on chapter 6. It’s competing with Nora Robert’s new book  ;-) But it’s already triggered some intense thinking and I’m sure lots more will be in my future). When I came into bed the other night, where Kalev had already been asleep for a few hours, I watched my beautiful sleeping boy for a bit and so much of what I had recently read in this book washed over me. I curled in close and was rewarded by him instinctively turning towards me and wrapping a sleep-laden arm around my neck. He snuggled closer. He smiled in his sleep as he did so. The soft, sweet smile (the one that shows no teeth as opposed to his happy and excited smile that shows all the shiny toothy goodness). Oh god I love this boy. My love came pouring through for this amazing, sweet child. As well as my awareness, and guilt (oy, always so much guilt! Do all parents feel so much guilt?), for the disservice I've been doing him.

This boy doesn't stop moving. When he spins he keeps twirling until he falls to the ground, dizzy but laughing. When he jumps his feet leap high off the ground and he lands with gusto. And when he runs, boy does he run! The excitement and energy just comes spilling out of this kid. But sometimes, when he's struggling to or just can't contain it, it doesn't come out in safe ways. I think these actions spurred from excitement are different than those with their root in anger or frustration. Although we have plenty of challenges with the latter too. I believe they are interconnected, and the definitions blur a bit, but I think the more I try to distinguish them and identify in which category his actions are coming from, the better I will be able to respond to his needs and guide him in finding what method works best for expressing himself safely. I’ve been reading up on this issue too. But that's an entirely different post ;-). Anyways, the level of anxiety that I’ve felt about this energy of his and how it relates to other children has been, and still is, exhausting.

From the little bit of the book I’ve read so far I really think that the way I’ve been dealing with his actions, and the constant anxiety and stress and overanalyzing I’ve done in my head (and out loud) have been setting him up to fail and then blaming him when he does so. And oy, the talking talking talking I do about it all the time drives me crazy. A self-fulfilling prophecy as my friend Megan put it. Why must I bring it up whenever anyone asks how we are doing? Because for the majority of the time we do fine. There are just moments, often times that I can/should anticipate because I do watch and know my son, that he tends to push instead of using words even when it’s not about anger, frustration, or aggression. Or he invades the space of a child that likes their personal bubble. Or he’s too excited while tickling and ends up scratching.  So my current light bulb understanding is: he's 3 and apparently fits Kurcinka’s definition of a spirited child. And while his behavior is not always okay, it's often normal, especially for a spirited child. And can hopefully be better accepted and handled by myself and others by an enhanced understanding of his needs, framed by this spirited child lens. So my goal is to stop the obsessing. Accept that it is a normal phase, one that needs safe limits and boundaries, but to stop the obsession and anxiety that surrounds it. Because when I spend a chunk of the day discussing pushing and the need to calm down etc. instead of just playing with him we both are left with memories of the negative experiences instead of the fun and positive that our day has held.

I think a big part of this shift is reframing the labels, or descriptions, that I, and others, attribute to him. I can definitely thank reading the book for this idea because as soon as I read about doing this, I started trying to incorporate this reframing, in my head when I think over situations, as well as during the situations themselves, and I think it’s made a big difference. To me in how I perceive what’s going on and to him in what he’s hearing. So instead of saying he’s loud or wild or even acting rough or mean, I  try to reframe some of these actions and behaviors as energetic, passionate, enthusiastic, gleeful, invigorated. He needs to hear himself described in this way because it truly is what he’s all about—his love, his zest for life and friends and play is what drives his energy so that he’s racing around, spinning, jumping, tickling with such excited fervor. And he definitely can get carried away. But what a beautiful place it comes from, the love in his heart.

So, step 1: Reframing these labels.

And step 2: Reframing activities (outside, movement, friends).

Even before I picked up the book I had realized that when we went out first thing for a walk the day often turned out better. This kid needs to MOVE. He needs the freedom of the outdoors to run, bike, skip, jump. Once I started reading the book it totally supported this thought. Kurcinka believes spirited children that are high on the intensity and energy scale need activities that allow them to safely expend their energy. Matt has commented on the change, mentioning what a better mood Kalev has been in and how much more controlled, on the whole, his actions are towards Aviella and Matt, even when he’s really excited. Yeah, 6 hours outside will do that for this kid I guess. Unfortunately, 6 hours outside is A LOT for this mama, but I am trying to troop along.

The other key that the book helped me identify is that as an extrovert Kalev gets his energy from people and he needs that connection to people to keep him balanced. So I’ve been actively seeking out social activities for him. And that has helped too. I thought I’d get a break this summer and we could just veg but this boy needs his friends.

Those above two steps are hopefully going to inform me how I view my son, his needs, and his actions. I’m always so quick to assume he’s at fault in a conflict situation when sometimes he is just reacting (albeit poorly) to another child being physical or just negatively verbal to him. Or even when there’s not a conflict but I hear a child crying and immediately assume Kalev had something to do with it (happened at two different play dates this week. Both times the children fell by themselves and Kalev wasn’t even in the vicinity. Oy, the guilt this mama felt when my crazy eyes tried tracking where he was while asking if he had hurt them). And perhaps especially when there is no conflict on the horizon but I can see the excitement bubbling up in my son and I anticipate that it will unleash itself in not the safest of ways. This is part of the definition of spirited as it applies to my son and I want to stop blaming him for these things when really, he is just being what he is. So I need to stand up for my boy. To put some trust that he can control some of that excitement and faith that he will respond and interact in safe ways. And to let him know more often that he is sweet and gentle and loving, not only to his parents, but to his sister and his friends. That he can count on me to help him when he needs it, if it’s help verbalizing his need of space or need to play with friends, ability to move his body without causing harm, or some quiet time to calm down from expending all that energy. I want him to know that it is wonderful, and just so much more alive than I am, to greet each day, and so many events of the day, with such excitement and enthusiasm. To love life this much is amazing. It's a lot for a homebody mama to always take in, and to allow room for, but wow is it something else.

I look forward to continuing this book that so many people have recommended and hope for more tools to use to be mindful of the sweetest loving heart of my boy. I think the biggest issue I still struggle with is when his energy and excitement build up on play dates. Do  parents of spirited children out there have any ideas for ways to help bring the intensity and excitement level down so that he can play safely with his friends? So far the book has just suggested activities like water play, reading a book, etc. So not something I feel I can easily incorporate in the middle of a play date. I’m trying to think of go-to words or activities that I can use when his energy level raises too high and he just needs to step back and calm down before continuing to play. 

All in all I think we are making progress, the both of us. I started writing this post over two weeks ago (can you tell my time at the computer is rare?!) and I think things have definitely already shifted. When I remember to slow down and really focus on the positive it sure changes our day :-)

The following are some of my favorite pictures of Kalev from our recent family portraits. I feel they really capture Kalev's energy and excitement, as well as his tenderness.

All photos by the wonderful and very talented Michelle Byars.

 

 

Turning Off The Wandering and Turning On The Play

I feel like I haven't truly focused on my kids, on the interactions and the play instead of just the are-you-clothed-and-fed stuff, for months. Maybe since January. When the whole house hunt business started. That is insane. It makes me feel sick. And so sad. Months wasted as my brain couldn't focus but kept wandering. To to-do lists, to house dreams, to priorities, to wondering what-ifs, whens, hows. My brain just wouldn't stop. It constantly wandered. I'd look down and have a toy in my hand and see my son animatedly playing but I'd realize I didn't even know if we were playing construction site or Paw Patrol. He'd have to remind me when I asked. The unconditional love of a three year old for his mother allowed him to give me the answer and still want to play with me. And I didn't think much of it until yesterday when I think I finally started focusing again.

The house is moved. Most of the boxes are unpacked. I don't know if I've given up on the others or am in denial or am just okay with finally taking a break. The dishwasher has been ordered, the glass man came and that order submitted. The end of the year teachers’ gifts are mostly done. My board report is finished. So my to-do list finally shrank. The first few weeks of May saw all these different parts of my life crashing together, demanding my attention in more ways than they had the rest of the year. So that crest has passed. My brain is therefore naturally not as full. And so I can focus once again.

And when I focus I can see the light in my kids' eyes as they recognize a truly engaged parent. It's different. They can tell. They can tell when my mind is wandering and that while my hands might make the toy car move across the couch my head just isn't there. And what does that say about my heart? And what I'm teaching my children about the most important thing in the world--the people you love? That it's ok to only pay them a fragment of your attention because you have a lot on your mind?

A month or so ago a bunch of people on Facebook linked to articles discussing having cell phone free time. To put down the electronics and engage with your kids. I totally support that idea (and am definitely guilty of texting and checking email wayyyyy too often on my phone) but what if the distraction isn't (just) the cell phone? It's all those things bouncing around in your head? How do you quiet those thoughts and tuck them away to a later time, a time when the eyes of your child aren't looking up at you with excitement, expectation and glee? I know these times are fleeting. That soon enough Kalev won't want to hold my hand just because. That he won't turn to me as his playmate. That the time we can sit on the floor together and build garages will soon be a memory. So how can I focus better on these times that I have now? To truly play with my children instead of just going through the motions while my mind is elsewhere?

If you haven't discovered Dr. Laura Markham of Aha! Parenting I highly suggest her. Great stuff there. Lots of thoughts and suggestions for incorporating play (and its importance) in you and your children's lives. So I have that resource. Matt and I try to use it. And I think it does help. But it still doesn't get to that core issue that I realize I have--how to turn off my mental wanderings and focus on the play. Would love thoughts, suggestions and what has worked for you. Because the change I've seen in my kids today and yesterday, that special laughter that I now realize is their complete happiness that their number one person in the world (yes, so very thankful that's still me for a few more years) is focusing on them and what is fun for them and makes them happy, is priceless. I need to see it more.

So Fast ...

So fast ...

Waving around the stick in glee

The plus sign

A sign I had been waiting for

Wait, better check again

Yes, yes it's true!

But better get the blood check just to make sure ...

Sick sick oh so sick

Was that a kick?

Push push, now a kick back!

Baby, you are in there

You are real

Push! Push!

On my side

So fast

Push! Ow! Push!

Blue baby in my arms. Oh god!

Chubby face, closed eyes, cheek rubbing against my chest

Thank God

Nurses rubbing her pink

It's a girl! A girl! I have a girl!

I thought I wanted all boys ...

But a girl, my girl, I have a daughter. Oh wow. So full of joy.

She's mine.

So tiny.

So much bigger than he was.

Look at those thighs!

And her tuchis!

Chunks and rolls and so warm

In my arms

No longer in my belly

How did that happen?

She smiles

She stretches

She sleeps against me

Faces inches from each other

We breath as one

Like we used to, but now she is against my belly instead of in it

Wow. Just wow. So amazing.

The tiny pudgy toes. The fingernails.

Oh look, her eyelashes have grown in!

When did that happen?

Naked butt after bath

Trying to rub lotion on a squirmy body

Pushing onto her knees

What?! How can that be?

Back arching against the wrap

Time to switch to the Ergo

Small fingers flutter against my ribs

Magic butterfly memories of love

Of connection

She moves

Slide push slide

Back back back

She's off the play mat!

But she's too young ...

Forward

Forward

She's off

One knee, scoot

Yes, she's across the room

Damn! That was fast

So fast

Ow! Tiny little corner of a tooth

Pokes against my fingertip

Poor hurting baby

Pulling pulling

How can she already pull herself up?

Big huge ginormous smile

So proud of herself

Look Ima, one-handed

I am amazing

Yes, my baby, you are

How do you do that?

Eyes follow the food from my plate

To my mouth

Big wide eyes

Watching watching

Guess it's time I share

The goodness the earth has given us

She may be ready

I’m not ready

My baby

No, I’m not ready

So fast

Asleep in my arms

Hand against my breast

She no longer fits in just my lap

Her feet rest against the couch arm

Seven and a half months

So fast

Stay stay

No, grow

...

But stay too.

Too fast

Three and a half years

So fast

A blur

So much

Come into my lap

Let me breathe in your hair

Your skin

Look into your eyes

My eyes

Mine

So fast

Let me remember

I can't slow it down

I often want to speed it up so I can just sleep

Let me hold you

Kiss you

Oh crap, forgot to brush your teeth

Must do that

Put on shoes

Pack bag

Get snacks

Go go go! We're late!

So so fast

Real White Noise

I never used a white noise machine until Baby Girl came along. I wanted my kids to be able to sleep without the aid of some machine ... Now with two kids, a small house, and all of us sleeping in one family bed I got real and saw that we desperately needed that aid (and so many others!).  It's become our norm to turn on "the rain," as Kalev calls it, when we put our babies to bed. Luckily there's an app for that and the rain can travel wherever we need to go to get the job done :-) So handy, this technology.

This past weekend, Mother's Day weekend, we spent with my family at Dillon Beach to celebrate my mom's 60th birthday. The second day we were there I sat on the beach with my baby girl nursing happily. I looked down and this active, I'm-distracted-by-everything-so-it's-hard-for-me-to-nurse-or-sleep-in-public-anymore (and oh yeah I'm teething) little girl was fast asleep. The breeze whispered across both our faces. The sun beat down overhead. And the waves crashed against the shore just a bit away from us. I watched her. I watched the waves. I watched my son in his rolled up jeans (yes that's how you dress for Northern California beaches) race back and forth from the hole he was digging to the water to scoop some in a bucket to the tide pools to explore the animals. His laughter rang out with complete glee, freedom, and thrill and it sounded so good. And so did those waves. I consciously thought how I should stay sitting up, my back propped against my bag, my baby sleeping on my chest, the large rock formation blocking us from the wind, and enjoy this moment. Look at the water. We haven't been to the beach since I was pregnant, last July, almost a year ago. And we love the beach. It rejuvenates us. So I should make this short weekend count. Eyes open, take in everything, remember it all.  The kids were happy. There was nothing I had to do. I could just be.

Instead I laid down on the quilt, sweet Aviella asleep in the crook of my arm, our faces inches away from each other, breaths mingling, stomachs pressed together, sun warming us on the cool day. I slept. The waves crashed in the background. So much better than my rain app. And even though I felt I should be soaking up the joy and peace of these moments with my eyes, my body soaked them up with a lovely peaceful sleep there on the beach, baby in my arms, the beautiful, soothing sounds of the ocean in my ears. 

Real white noise and the total peace it brings. Amazing.

Belly to Belly, Heart to Heart

My baby girl is a little over 6 months old and this morning was the first time I consciously not only was mindful but remembered that feeling of mindfulness, its beauty and its peace, and most of all, its preciousness. Sure I’ve been mindful in the past 6 months, and before that since whenever my last post was (which I just realized as I post this entry was an entire YEAR ago--yikes!). But I think these mindful moments have been few and far between, and if they entered my mind, the thoughts soon drifted away like so many other things do unless I write them down. We’ve been pretty much doing the survival thing instead of focusing on the beauty of being present these past 6 months … new baby, houseguests, terrible threes tantrums, lack of sleep by everyone in the house, separation issues, househunting (and buying!!) … the list can go on and on. But today I was given such a gift, the rare opportunity for my baby girl and I to be alone together and to nap together. Matt worked in Kalev’s school and Aviella and I had an hour to lay together in bed. Sadly, I didn’t manage to sleep (too much on this always active mind), but I am glad that one of the many thoughts was the highlighting of this wonderful, special and fleeting moment. This moment of mindfulness didn’t erupt in bright shiny lights, but instead reached out and surrounded me with its soft warmth. My beautiful baby girl, the warmth of her body permeating my skin, our bellies pressed together so that each breath pushed her adorable rounded tummy closer to mine, our hearts beating next to each other, her delicious milky breath against my nose, and those beautiful, absolutely perfect fingers moving from my breast to my face, where I could softly kiss them without waking her up. I think there is almost nothing better than holding your sleeping child. And that miracle, that blessing, and that absolutely perfect beauty of this opportunity touched me in that moment. I focused on our joint breathing, the feeling of our bodies against each other, the wonderful singular smell of baby, and the craziness of the past six months melted away as I allowed myself to not only concentrate on all these feelings, but to hold them in my mind and heart long enough to write about them and to hopefully remember them in the minutes, days, hours and weeks of busy living to come. To many more beautiful moments of living in the present ...

That Magic Moment … Slowly Slipping Away

My dear friend Beth recently wrote a beautiful blog post on the magical moment she has during bathtime with her kids—the meditative feeling of repeatedly rinsing her daughter’s hair, the special sweet smell of clean child that is so unique and precious, and that stoppage of time where all you do is just bath—and the fact that with her last child growing up, these magical moments of bathtime are sliding away. I loved the post and nodded to myself and said yeah, I love bathtime too—Kalev’s special smile of delight, his bath dance, the way he lines up his ducks and boats afterwards—a special time where you can totally glimpse his joy in the moment and therefore it transfers to your joy as well. So I agreed and was sad, sad for Beth and sad for one day no longer getting to enjoy bathtime with Kalev. Then I went about the rest of my day.

Except that those words of Beth’s crept into me, into my heart and my mind, stewing there and churning churning churning until it hit me—Oh my God! My magic moment is holding Kalev while he sleeps and oh my God oh my God oh my God! It’s sliding away! This moment of course came to me as I looked down into the peaceful child sleeping in my arms. This was it. This was my bath moment. And it hurt, that realization that he will not always be sleeping in my arms. Like Beth, I get to experience my magic moment every night, and lucky me, every nap time, because Kalev still falls asleep in my arms. Sometimes the process getting there is annoying or frustrating and I think all I want to do is sleep myself or get something done, but as soon as he’s asleep, I’m there—that magic moment, that magic place, of true mindfulness and appreciation of what an amazing experience this is. It washes away whatever struggles happened during the day—the negotiations, the meltdowns, the limit setting, any illness, any frustration—and refreshes me and my outlook on motherhood. (It is also one of the few times Kalev is mostly still, that his energy is resting, and that I can just look at him and breathe in his awesomeness). I am so blessed! Thank you God for giving me such an amazing son, and the experience of being his mother. I look at him, curled against me, his breath fluttering against my chest, his perfect lips slightly open to allow his breath in and out—that slow, beautiful meditative synergy of breathing, of me slowing down to appreciate that breath and match it. He is my baby and my love for him blows me away. I’m consumed by it. I know that love will stay forever, but gosh, I really don’t want to lose this special time of holding him while he sleeps. (Hence the gazillion pictures I take of him during these moments, some of which I share below)

Beth’s post clarified my fear of this magic moment sliding away, but it’s been rumbling in little pops of fear for the last few months. We’ve been in survival mode around here since late January/early February and I haven’t really taken much time to think through deep thoughts or focus on my mindfulness—I just got through the moment, the minute, the day. But since I’ve been feeling better lately those thoughts have crept in, usually at naptime or bedtime, when I realize Wow! Things are really going to change soon. Kalev falling asleep and sleeping during the night on and off in my arms—this will change. I don’t know the mechanics or the specifics of the change, but I know with a new addition to our family and our family bed, things are going to seriously change. And a big change will be this magic moment I experience with Kalev—when I hold him for an hour or more, relishing in this closeness, the quietness, the love; when we curl together throughout the night and wake up, like we did this morning, snuggled so closely together I am almost off the bed (poor Matt, all alone with the other ¾ of the bed!); when I give him an extra squeeze and block out those images of an eight year old boy losing his life in Boston yesterday because I really, really can’t go there; when in sleep his hand flutters against my cheek and I know this moment is magical for him too. What will I do when this slides away? When he no longer wants to fall asleep in my arms or sleep curled against me at night? And what will I do if I cause this magic moment to slip away sooner because of the new baby I so desperately wanted? When I have to make choices and one of those choices might be to hold the other child and nurse that child to sleep?  I can’t imagine my life without these magic moments for us.

All this thinking makes my heart heavy. I don’t like change and I especially don’t like thinking about my little boy changing so much that he no longer is my little baby in my arms. I know it happens, that it needs to happen, that one of my jobs as a mother is to give Kalev the tools and the love so that he can be independent … but how do you handle it? How do mothers and fathers let these magic moments slip away? And again and again with each child? It’s too much for me on this spring morning. I just want to snuggle in bed with my baby.

The lesson that I’m trying to teach myself in all this is to not focus on the sliding away. It’s inevitable, like so many things, but it hurts (also like so many things darnit!). But I’m hoping that maybe the change will be gradual, and in a way and time that it works for both of us. We believe in lots of child-led things—weaning, potty training, family bed—so I have to trust (or I try to tell myself to trust) that these changes happen gradually and usually happen as they are meant to, and the relationship we have with Kalev is gradually adjusted and accepting of this new phase. Oftentimes, like the potty training, we greet it with joy. I don’t think I will greet the whole no more magic moment of sweet angelic sleep in my arms with joy, but I am hopeful it will happen at a time when both Kalev and I are ready and willing to accept the transformation to some other magic moment. And until then, I really want to teach myself to use this magic moment as the meditation it can be—focus on the moment, on the feel of him against me, of the joy I feel having this experience, the peace it brings me, the assurance that even with crazy days and horrible evil people doing bad things in this world everything is ok at the foundation of my world because of the love I have with this special baby. And I will definitely give him some extra snuggles tonight :-)

 Just a few days after Kalev was born

 Loved how we used to sleep face to face, nose to nose

 

 My big boy, growing up and slowly sliding away

My New Year: A Lesson in Compromise and Hope

 

Kalev in his Yom Kippur finery

We just celebrated the Jewish New Year. It is one of my favorite times of the year—filled with hope, spirituality and renewal. But this year it came so incredibly fast. I enjoyed Rosh Hashanah—did some apple art projects with Kalev and made some yummy festive apple dishes to celebrate. Enjoyed the family service and Tashlich. Really wished I could have attended the other services but we couldn’t find a sitter and since they were during Kalev’s bedtime and naptime, it made things difficult. So I dealt with my annoyance and compromised there—this year Matt would get to attend Erev Rosh Hashanah (the evening service) and the morning service since I felt Kalev needed me to put him to bed and down for his nap. And my main thing that I’ve really recognized in myself and in the person, and mother, I want to be is my need to meet Kalev’s needs to the best of my ability. So I stayed home. Is that why the Days of Awe flew by and all of a sudden it was Yom Kippur? How did that happen? Usually I am at my most introspective during these days, really thinking about who I am, what I have done, and what I want to change for the next year. This is when I make my new year’s resolutions. I don’t do it January 1^st; during the Jewish New Year I am feeling more spiritual and more in tune with myself. Therefore it’s the ideal time for deep thinking, planning, and goal setting. The resolutions I create are a combination of what I want to accomplish in the next year and what transgressions I committed in the past year that I want to cease and change for next year. But this year the days went by so fast that all of a sudden it was Kol Nidre (the evening service of Yom Kippur) and I realized I hadn’t done my deep thinking. Who had I harmed? Who did I need to make amends to? What actions did I need to cease? What did I want to do differently next year? What were my resolutions? And the super big intense question of all—holy crap, would I be inscribed in the Book of Life when I had forgotten to do all this? I had ten days to do this thinking and suddenly I was freaking out and looking deep inside myself as I nursed Kalev to sleep.

Luckily we have the internet. And boy did I use it that night. If I could not be at services sitting next to my husband, listening to the wisdom of our very special and intelligent Rabbi, I was going to do my own Yom Kippur session at home while my baby slept in my arms (this became quite fitting once I made some important connections about myself and my wants). So I read and read about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, articles and blogs, stories of High Holiday experiences now and of a long time ago. I came across a strategy for making and keeping your resolutions. I quickly jotted down my responses:

            To be more patient.

            To not yell as much.

            To not be as judgmental about others.

            To not be as envious of others.

            To be more mindful.

            To parent with love not coercion.

            To schedule our time with activities of love, not obligation.

            To say “no” more. (Not to my husband of course! ;-))

When I reviewed these resolutions I realized that this year they were really internal, about changing and improving my inner self and how that is reflected upon and connected to those I love. And that’s kinda cool because that’s what I keep saying I want but this quick knee-jerk response exercise showed me that this is indeed who I am right now. And that gave me a really nice feeling of peace. Of being okay with the compromises I am making so that I can be this person I feel I need and want to be.

Having this knowledge of myself and where I wanted to be really helped me frame the rest of Yom Kippur in a way that was most meaningful to me. I again did not make it to all the services; that was my compromise between the Jew I want to be and the mother I am and need to be. We all went to the family service. By looking at this service through my new “deep thinking” lens, I didn’t think about it like I had on Rosh Hashanah—how short it was, how I missed the truly awesome sermon our Rabbi led on Rosh Hashanah that everyone keeps talking about, or how much we kept singing that same darn “Turning” song. Instead, I focused on how this service really simplified the holiday for me so that I could get the nuts and bolts of the special day in about 30 minutes. Not ideal for the Jew I want to be, but essential for the mother I am to the 22-month-old toddler that still couldn’t sit through the entire service. When Kalev and I went home to nap we watched some of the fun High Holiday you tube videos we had discovered (Aish’s Rosh Hashanah Rock--Kalev is soooo going to be a breakdancer! and The Fountainhead’s Dip Your Apple). Definitely no Rabbi Alfi sermon, but again, the simple message in a fun way that I can remember, think about, and most importantly share and teach to my son, who absolutely loves these videos and keeps asking for “more, more” even though Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are now over. So definitely another compromise that I came to accept was right for this time and place in my life.

The one grown-up service I got to attend most of was the afternoon service, where we went through the Avodah. As we started the responsive reading of this section I was kinda like, oh great, I get to stay for the super sad stuff of an already intense day. But as I listened to a Holocaust survivor read in Yiddish and then in English about his brothers in the gas chambers of Amsterdam I realized I was here attending this service for a reason. I don’t like sad stuff. I rarely read about the Holocaust because it makes me so sick. I like happy ending books. I like Rosh Hashanah when we’re singing and feeling uplifted. But here I was, deep into the saddest of the sad, reading some really graphic stuff. This was part of the point of this day--to look in the mirror, to face death, and to question whether what you face is what you want to be. And thinking that way turned my uncomfortable sad feelings into feelings of hope. He made it. We as a people made it. There are lots of sad and icky and scary things going on in this world right now but we have the power to make a difference. I’m not a political person but as I sat listening to the melody of this man, this survivor’s, voice, I felt the deep knowledge of power and connection. Power in choosing paths, in electing our government leaders, in teaching of right and wrong and in freedoms. All things I want to teach my son. This connection and inspiration gave me lots of hope for myself, my family, and my community. And it gave me hope for the person I saw in my mirror.

I did not have a High Holy Day experience like I usually have. I did not attend all the services, I missed some really neat sermons, and I connected with the holiday more as a child would than an adult. But I think I got the message. I want to change. I want to cleanse my mistakes, start fresh and make next year a good year. I want to be a better person. I want to be inscribed in the Book of Life. My experience this year helped me clarify that yes, I want to be a better mother and I want to teach and guide my son to want and do all these things as well, and that it is really okay to put this want as a priority. I may need to compromise on some things and think of creative ways to meet my other priorities and interests but for now, I am a mother. It’s not the easiest thing I’ve done but it’s who I want to be, I’m the happiest and the most peaceful I feel that I have ever been, and I have the joy and responsibility of teaching these lessons to my son. As I think back over this special day, I am filled with hope of giving these gifts of knowledge, of peace, of choice, of connection, of community, and of love to my sweet baby.