She has that look — a shell of the formerly vibrant, social woman clinging to her last rope, reaching for a shred of hope as the overwhelming waves of chaos crash toward her again.  I know it well.  She’s usually in the back row of my parenting presentations, or quietly listening at the moms’ social outing, and she needs someone to tell her things are going to be okay. 

She may be the mother of a colicky baby, a defiant toddler, a learning-challenged fourth grader or a rebellious teen.  She may have wonderful, well-adjusted children but still feel completely overwhelmed by it all.  She also might be a he, of course, who feels like he’s the only one out there forging uncharted territory.  She might get paid to work (or not), but it doesn’t matter.  She loves her child with every ounce of her soul, and she treasures those moments of joy, but she still feels like she can’t pull it together like all the other parents seem to do. 

I know this woman because I have been there.  I am she, and she is we, and we need to do a better job reaching out to that person. 

Parenting is one of life’s most rewarding and toughest challenges, and anyone who says otherwise is not telling the whole story.  Yes, some flow through it more naturally than the rest of us do, but I don’t think it was ever meant to be easy.  Perfect parenting is a myth.  June Cleaver and Carol Brady do not exist in the real world, and the SuperNanny doesn’t even have her own children.  The difficulty isn’t necessarily bad: parenting is a great opportunity to for adults to stretch and learn beyond our imagination, and working through tough challenges is an amazing way to grow.

But I don’t believe we’re meant to face that challenge in a vacuum. We need a friend to hear about our latest episode and offer ideas to face the next one. We need someone to help us see the long view and assure us that we didn’t scar our child for life this morning. We need a frequent reminder that kids are resilient, that our mistakes are forgiven and that next time, we will respond better. We need a friend who pulls us out of that ocean of diapers and tantrums and shines light on the moments we can laugh about and celebrate. We can’t expect all that from one person: we need a community of grace.

So let’s make a pact to skip the judgement, finger pointing and mommy wars. Let’s stop competing over food, child care, schools and activities. Let’s reach out to one another and offer support.

What if we sat next to that woman in the back row and listened to her story? What if we reached out to the parent whose child misbehaves in school? What if we remembered how hard it is to simply get out the door with young children and congratulated that mom for a job well done?

Just for today, let’s stop pretending we have all the answers. Let’s hold back our judgment and encourage one another. It will make a huge difference to that struggling parent. And I bet it will make your day a little brighter too.

It works for me. 

photo credit: Béni Rivière

Today I join a new venture with hopeful expectation. 

It begins with sad news:  our local paper, the Ann Arbor News, printed its very last edition this week after 174 years.   It was a pretty good paper, made by some really great people, that fell victim to the double whammy of the struggling newspaper industry in a dismal economy.  I felt a lump in my throat when I saw Thursday’s headline: 

–FINAL EDITION–

Farewell, Ann Arbor

It felt like saying goodbye to an old friend.  Many are mourning the loss from so many different angles. 

Fortunately, I’ll also be saying hello to some creative new friends. 

A new venture launches today called AnnArbor.com:  a digital media service with two print editions per week that will include traditional news, bloggers, and ”hyper-local” journalism shaped by the community.  I’m not quite sure what all that means yet, but I’m thrilled to serve on the Parenting team with some other cool folks and share my random thoughts a couple of times per week. 

So please, visit me at my new gig and say hello.  I’m a little nervous about my first day on the job.

I laughed at the ridiculousness of it and how far we have come since those days.  But in some sense, I cried at the irony, because there have been times when I’ve felt almost that separated from the world of business for which I trained.   Not directly from family or friends, but subtle messages from the world at large. 

Carla Barnhill speaks of the church’s pressure on mothers in The Myth of the Perfect Mother.  I’ve been ruminating (one of my new favorite weird words) on her message.  Some of it hit home for me and some seemed a little far-fetched.  As soon as I process my thoughts, I’ll write more.  If you’re interested, join Carla and her friend Caryn’s thought-provoking conversations at The Mommy Revolution. 

In the meantime, enjoy.  Does something in this video strike a chord with you?

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on flux

What do I mean by “flux of life”? 

From the Free Online Dictionary:

flux (fluks) n.  1. a. A flow or flowing.  b. A continued flow; a flood.  2. The flowing in of the tide

 

As a child, I anticipated a straight path to success.  I was an ambitious girl, coming of age in the 80s, believing I could “do it all.”  I dreamed of being queen of the corporate world and a beautiful family.  Then reality rushed over me.  In reality, my life has flux-ed through the seasons:

college:  a river of rapids and whirlpools–turbulent, challenging, exciting, invigorating

20s/early marriage:  forging a new stream, building my flow, enjoying a rising tide

working mom of two babies:  an unexpected flood.  trying to keep my head above water.  struggling to balance.  gratitude in surviving.  reluctant to get out of the exciting waters.

baby number three:  time to move out of the flood zone and crawl up on the banks.  watching the career stream flow by.  seeking stiller waters.  finding a new stream. 

 mom of three young ones:  depending on the day, a varying flux–a steady drip, like water torture (not my metaphor), raging rapids, floods, or flowing tides. 

today–three kids in school, flexible work:   feeling more buoyant.  negotiating a new stream.  anticipating more “flux” to come.

Along the journey, I fluctuate.  Sometimes I struggle.  Sometimes I know my choices are right.  As I adapt and evolve, sometimes I wonder whether I’m losing—or finding?—my true self.  Is this maturity, or weakness?  The blessings are abundant, but different from what I expected.  Can I ever go back to my original plans?  Do I want to?   In which stream do I want to row?

The flux metaphor works for me as I flow through life’s seasons.  How does it resonate with you? 

From the Free Online Dictionary:

flux (flks) n.  1. a. A flow or flowing.  b. A continued flow; a flood.  2. The flowing in of the tide

 

As a child, I anticipated a straight path to success.  I was an ambitious girl, coming of age in the 80s, believing I could “do it all.”  I dreamed of being queen of the corporate world and a beautiful family.  Then reality rushed over me.  In reality, my life has flux-ed through the seasons:

college:  a river of rapids and whirlpools–turbulent, challenging, exciting, invigorating

20s/early marriage:  forging a new stream, building my flow, enjoying a rising tide

working mom of two babies:  an unexpected flood.  trying to keep my head above water.  struggling to balance.  gratitude in surviving.  reluctant to get out of the exciting waters.

baby number three:  time to move out of the flood zone and crawl up on the banks.  watching the career stream flow by.  seeking stiller waters.  finding a new stream. 

 mom of three young ones:  depending on the day, a varying flux–a steady drip, like water torture (not my metaphor), raging rapids, floods, or flowing tides. 

today–three kids in school, flexible work:   feeling more buoyant.  negotiating a new stream.  anticipating more “flux” to come.

Along the journey, I fluctuate.  Sometimes I struggle.  Sometimes I know my choices are right.  As I adapt and evolve, sometimes I wonder whether I’m losing—or finding?—my true self.  Is this maturity, or weakness?  The blessings are abundant, but different from what I expected.  Can I ever go back to my original plans?  Do I want to?   In which stream do I want to row?

The flux metaphor works for me as I flow through life’s seasons.  How does it resonate with you?