No Tigers Allowed

Excuse the length of this.


I am getting tired – oh so tired of the “Tiger Mom” getting press. It’s comical that even the late night news has picked up on it and the reporting style is pitiful on this cultural subject.

Unfortunately, parents are left so volatile, so picked at and left for damaged goods that they are willing to grab on to the next express of parenting fodor (cursor blinks…not sure how to proceed).

On the tails of “Tiger Parenting” is “Children are not raised to be happy” mentality (I know this is a blanket statement and much goes into the argument). I might as well dig my own grave now, for I am doing it all wrong according to the Experts: the 20 something editorialist in the Star Tribune and WCCO news anchors.

I understand the nature of the beast. Parenting is a job and a job to be done with great merit, character and moral upbringing. But what is missing?

I am rasing imperfect children. 30 minutes piano practice, lots of play time outside, sleep overs, adequate and age appropriate chores, respectful conversation between parent and child and lots of affection…..and did I mention lots of laughter?

Do i want success for my children – ABSOLUTELY! Do I want them to be happy? Absolutely..

I want my children to be successful. I want them to have motivation and ambition. I want them to care about others and see the world around them as a place to be active members. I want them to not take their life for granted. I work on this standard day in and day out – but, I have to be honest, presently, I want them to be happy. Sooner than later, they will be lost within their own moment of heart ache, sadness, feelings of despair, and unfortunately, agonizing emotions. Why ask them to give this all up because I am asked to put more into piano practice.

My two cents aside, i do see a slide in relation to expectations of children: giving in to whims, meeting demands, and letting the ‘such as life’ mantra hold high rank in a family; ending in detrimental side effects. But, i completely disagree with the attempt at comparing a western culture to something that has been in place for centuries. I know Amy Chua “Tiger Mom” is getting some poor press, but just the same, she is getting press and contributing to this almost lemming mentality http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOOs8MaR1YM :

I think i have to close. My arguments are not as stable as I would like them to be; I am writing on complete emotion at the moment and still need to process.

Thanks for listening.

Hold that Elevator

 I know I am blessed. I am a mother of 4, a wife of a wonderful man and incredibly grateful to my surrounding peace. This year, I am being self-seeking --- to an extent. I am doing more for myself and in turn, this will only assist me in being a successful mom and wife. And, fortunately, I have that choice.


As I write, I have a little girl who is cleaning up after the two of us painting wooden flowers. I have a 22 month old singing my name over and over again as he stomps around the house with his blue threaded friend. I am making time to write – it will be a split second and I can promise that. It takes nothing for me to write a couple of paragraphs. Today, I had 17 minutes to myself. I took it. With travel to and from piano, I had 17 minutes. I opened my lap top, wrote quickly and after I packed everything in to get back into the car, I quickly grabbed a cup of coffee. I ran to the store, bought stuff for lunch and picked up son from his lessons. The rest of the day is to be spent at home – whether it is cleaning, playing a board game, watching a toddler dance, playing catch or simply being present…nothing is on the calendar. But for 17 minutes, I was able to observe and be grateful and be present in body, mind and spirit.

Lately, I have been doing more for myself; but at no impediment to my family. I have gone out twice for dinner this week – but they have been late dinners. I was able to spend time with two friends. One I had not seen in 2 years and the other about the same. The last time I saw her, I announced to her that I was pregnant. The table was set, the meal was made the babe was in pajamas and ready for bed before I left. I did my job and I was able to go out and reclaim Katie for a couple of hours.

I am married to a man who works hard. He works hard by choice. During the baseball season, he is not home. I am home with kids --- yes, by choice, but with a hint of necessity. I am blessed to be here; but I have also acknowledged that my husband would not be the success he was if it were not for his wife who picks up every piece of slack that falls from him in his path. No accolades, an observation.

I am not a person to take time for granted. My day to day is proof of that.

The heartbeat of the baseball season is upon us and things are beginning to pick up. John leaves tomorrow and we will not see him until the following Sunday evening (if we are lucky – we may all be in bed). This will be a standard pretty soon. In a couple of months, he will basically say good bye to his family and we will see him sometime in October. The season will once again end with a celebratory dinner that Daddy is home. I am not complaining and I am not reaching out for pity. I have complete grasp that there are others completely less fortunate or who have husbands who are far busier than john.

I am selfish, I am spoiled, I am appreciative, and I am blessed. I am a busy mom in my very small world. How I choose to live my life may not be the right choice. What I say and do may completely go against the grain. I know for sure that I cannot devote 24 hours a day to my children and my husband without coming up for a bit of air – and this is what I do when there is an inch of time. The elevator door is beginning to close and I squeeze myself in – if only for the short ride.

4 minutes have passed since I have begun this posting and my time is up.

Before it Crashes

The milk is frothing in the background.  If I close my eyes, my ears are full and it is hard to decipher the noise within.  My eyes peruse the surround: college aged girls sharing dreams of nearing future; moms finding an hour within their day to talk about the woes of parenthood - coupled with laughter from the antics at home. Two gray haired, aged men sitting upon the leather chairs in juxtaposition as a woman reads her newspaper, looking up from time to time, almost questioning why she is here and what she wants from this split second instant.  A man comes in, hits me on the shoulder and bellows, "Hey, Katie, how the hell are ya?"  He just dropped one of his kids off at hockey practice and is squeezing in the time for the large coffee his friend just bought him.

I came here to write about me, but I have less than 5 minutes before my computer shuts down and i am not near an outlet.  I came here to write about me, but i am more entertained by the people who share in my existence in this moment: laughing moms, crying co-eds, a complete variation of generations sitting within this crowded coffee house, filling the space with voice, thought, laughter, and tears.  the background music is barely audible.  In a few hours, when the rush has passed, a sole barista will stand behind the counter, wiping it down with a wet rag, filling in her moment and listening to the music that fills the empty space.  my battery has 25% life left and my son will soon be picked up from his piano lessons.  I have yet to order my coffee as the line is solid and i do not want to break from thought. 7% left, 7 minutes until I leave.  7 perfect minutes to write and share.  Thanks for listening.

Connected

Many times in this life, i have deliberately disconnected myself from the world.  It was almost a safe guarding decision.  If there is a disconnect, then there are no expectations, no follow thru, no discord, no thought of what is to be.  But as often as I attempt to pronounce this time as if heralding out to the masses; it never simply takes.  Somewhere, out of the woodwork, comes a connection that is in need of seeing, hearing, feeling, and being.  These connections remind me of who I am, who i was, who i am still to be.  They make me stronger, more aligned, more intense with mission and they fill me.  truly fill me.  I am connected, whether i choose to see it or not.  I am strongly connected.

Thanks for listening.

Diving by Winds Instrution

A swift wind picks her up and she finds herself falling down by the sea – diving with no fear – for she just knows this is all going to be okay.  Within the mirror, she visualizes her younger ,protected self, her younger shield of glory.  This is a time of all abandon – she has never been here before, but is welcoming it like an old friend.

What is she to find here?  Hypnotically fixed within the void.  Ageless moments encircling and enticing the invitation to stay and ponder. No fear. Accepting.  Complimenting. Like a lyrical ping of sound, she finds contentment.

Her 10 minutes are almost up and she is beginning to feel the tug on her ankles by those whom do not wish for her to continue on this mystical moment.  One day, she will try to find this spot again, by the sea, to dive in again with no fear.

10 minutes

New Years Resolutions have never played a role in this life. I sit, I ponder, and ultimately, I pass.

This year, as I tried to make my argument for time - i thought i would take action instead of longing and then debating and then defeating.

So, on the top of my list was to take 10 minutes each day to write. I am not sure what will come of it, but I will give myself at least 10 minutes, if not more. No crying babies, no child by my side, waiting quitely and patiently for mommy to be done with her 'selfish deed,' and no agenda but to write.

I have been asked to be a guest writer on another blog and that is where most of my writing will take place. Second on the list is piano lessons. at 7:15 this evening, I made my way to my children's piano teacher and slowly plunked away at the keys. Elation filled at the end. Number three, go to bed at a decent hour. The alarm is always set for 6:15am, no matter what time i get to bed.

So, tonight, I sat for my 10 minutes. A bit tired, a bit ambivilent, but nontheless, took part in the exercise.

Result of 10 minutes of time.
What can happen in 10 minutes? We are about to find out. The vertical line..blink, blink, blink.

What can happen in 10 minutes? I wish I knew.

I approached this journey with a willingness and peaceful resolution and I am in search of truth – like Alice in the Looking Glass – searching for pieces that will find me out; to see what and where I have been, where I am going and where my passions lie.

10 minutes. I am frozen by this desire.

The grey matter of mess rallies and commands an attention that is not yet available. Beating inside, think, do, write, and say something!

5 minutes

Yet, music rhythmically brings it all back together and yeah, it will be ok. Do nothing today, give into the break . Let your imagination run away, close eyes, turn the sound up a bit, move within the beat.

10 minutes – what can happen?

This.