Our family’s ban on being busy and in a hurry

When is the last time you talked to someone and they didn’t say they WEREN’T busy?!
A conversation usually goes like this:

“How are you guys?”
“Oh you know, we’ve got such n such going on and then there’s such n such coming up. We’re runnin’ from one thing to the next.”
“Oh I know. We are so busy too.”

It’s so common place that we come to expect people to say they are busy. And we think nothing of it when we say how busy we are.

But we should.

When’s the last time you WEREN’T hurrying to get somewhere?  Didn’t have adrenaline rushing through your veins on the way to work or to drop off your kiddos?

All this being busy and hurrying everywhere reeks havoc on our nervous system. It keeps us in stress mode. And that effects EVERY system in us – immune system, digestive…you name it.

And our children???

Our children’s generation is the first to be so darn rushed all the time from a young age on. What do we think is going to be the impact on our children’s developing brains, hearts, bodies, and relationships to be so hurried all the time, to be so in stress mode all the time???

Well the other night, I had enough. I had enough of treating the clock as a god. I had enough of hurrying my kiddos to eat breakfast and get out the door and into the car to go to school.  I was appalled at how the doctor and nurse (though knowledgable and kind) hurried our daughter through her three-year old check up with rushed hands — and how they probably did this with every other child that day and no other parent thought ANYTHING of it.  Why? Because we are used to it!  We are used to our bodies and presence not being regarded as sacred.

Well, enough, I said.

Sitting at the breakfast table…late…I looked around and I thought, “this is crazy. Our culture has lost all regard for honoring the sacredness of the body, for reverencing and honoring its flow. I refuse to teach my children to not honor their bodies. Let them sleep. Let them eat. Peacefully. And Brian and I are doing nothing for our relationship with our kiddos to be on them and hurrying them. Enough. I call for a family ban on being busy and in a hurry.”

Maybe it’s this mid-life shift thing I’m going through (it’s not a crisis and it’s not an awakening. I’m awake. Now I’m just takin’ action n shiftin’ stuff. Big time.).  I’m taking more responsibility for MY life and how I want to live it. No one else is going to be at my deathbed with me and the divine.

It’s going to be me and the Big G reflecting back on my life and asking, “Did I love fully?  Did I live fully?”

It won’t be: “Did I get the kiddos to soccer practice on time?”

Instead I’ll recall images of me and Brian being present with our children.  I’ll recall regarding them and seeing, really SEEING, their needs…and responding to them.  I’ll recall holding Little C. for awhile longer even though we are late for a playdate.  I’ll recall letting Big A. sleep in, leisurely being with him (with my eyes, my attention, my tone of voice), and then going to school.  I’ll recall the times I remembered what is most important.

mutual regard

So it’ll take some time (ha!) to get the busy and the hurry out of our nervous systems. But I am committing myself to “the ban on busy”. I’m committing myself to not being in a hurry.  To slowing it all down.  And really, there is no time to be in a rush.  Life is precious.  Short and precious.

Drop the Mama Guilt and Get Resourced

I’m a mindful parent. I also work with parents every day to bring more compassion and mindfulness into their lives, including their parenting. I think it’s fabulous how much attention parenting is getting these days. What drives me nuts are posts on some parenting sites and blogs that guilt mamas (and dads) into loving every minute of being a parent and being absolutely perfectly present in every moment.

Holy tamole. It’s too much! There is soooooooooo much focus on how to parent in loving and kind ways – how to effectively manage tantrums, teenagers talking back, and messy rooms. (Actually there is too much information out there that folks don’t know where to go and what to advise to listen to…and so they feel frozen).

And while that’s great, what I DON’T see much of is this: resourcing mom and dad. Teaching mom and dad how to be gentle and kind to ourselves. How to allow ourselves to be human. How to be present to our own hearts and yearnings and sadness and yes, even rage and mourning. And learning to gently tend to and nourish ourselves.

That’s the “harder” stuff. You can focus on discipline strategies ‘til you are blue in the face and things may change…for a moment. But the realllll shifts in our lives AND in our children (and their behavior) come from this: mom and dad learning to be kind and compassionate with our own selves.

We all want our children to grow to become confident, happy, and compassionate adults. A sure way to support this is for us to be kind and gentle with ourselves – to be with whatever rises up within us, responding with compassionate attention.

THIS is the foundation of every single effective parenting or disciplining strategy.

So enooooooough focus on guilting mama into loving every moment of the day. Enooooough telling us that “oh you’d better savor it because…” WE GET IT. Instead, let’s focus on the harder stuff to explain and put into words. Let’s focus on the murkier work. Let’s focus our attention on our own hearts and bodies. Ask yourself: what do you love? What is drawing your attention – from the depths of you?

Let yourself be silently drawn
by the strange pull of what you really love.
It will not lead you astray.
~ Rumi ~

Be the goddess you are. Be the goddess you are called to be. Maybe that means speaking your truth in a way that has been silenced for too long. Maybe that means wearing soft, flowy sensual clothing in fabrics that allow you to move and breathe. Maybe that’s creating, making art, painting, writing. Whatever it is, do it.

(By the way…the blogs/websites on my Blog Roll are about resourcing mamas!)

This is what love feels like

This is What Love Feels Like

Laying down
for a nap
with my daughter

curled up with
my belly
to her back
my arms
around her
little almost
three year old
body

little feet
resting on
my thighs

rhythmic
breathing
deeply
together

we sleep

sacred
holy
complete

this
is
what
love
feels
like.

Lisa A. McCrohan, 2013

Receiving mode

It takes courage to admit we can’t. It takes courage to do what we know we need to do to heal while the world around us tries to suck us back into the busyness.

Well, friends, last week I stepped on to a moving treadmill that I thought wasn’t moving. A flip, smack, and thud later, I landed. Hard.

Result? Concussion. Doctor said I need to rest. Not think. Not on the computer.

“Forced retreat” as one friend called it. I realize I’m addicted to my iPhone. Talk about withdrawal!

So here I am practicing “retreat” in my everyday life with two kiddos, mounds of laundry, clients to serve, birthday parties, and smelly bathrooms.

Resting. Receiving. Recognizing I can’t and shouldn’t do it. None of it. Friends and neighbors and family have stepped in. I literally sat the whole time at my son’s Harry Potter birthday party- our community of fam n friends did everything while Brian led 23 kiddos through Hogwarts and potion class and quidditch practice. Feeling totally raw and vulnerable, but surrendering to receiving.

That’s hard for a giver. Many of us spend our days in service mode, all about caring for others. But this is what I preach and this is what I’m getting a chance to practice: caring for self IS caring for others.

So this mama is offline for a few weeks. Receiving. Resting. Renewing.

Sweet love to all of you.
Love,
Lisa

A poem to me on my 39th birthday

(A poem for me, to me, on my 39th birthday, shared as prayer with you)…

Embodied

The other night, I watched a video of me that Brian recently filmed.
It was me leading a meditation.
Half way through, I stopped and paused it.

I sat there, staring

at the still frame shot of me. The incessant self-doubt
that strangled my joy for years was simply

not true. I could no longer deny what I now saw before me.
Here was the evidence.

“I see it,” I whispered in the silence of my heart,
“I see what my mother has seen all these years.

I am exquisite.

I embody the life I have led,
the years and hours of meditation and kindness and metta,
meltdowns and cries, softening and letting go
practiced on my cushion,
on the earth dancing and sweating my chants to the Divine,

in our kitchen cutting grapes for toddlers,
tired, alone, longing, yearning, returning
always

right here
to my life as practice, in the car

handing back snacks to hungry little ones wondering if I’ll rest today,
in our bed nursing a newborn in the early hours before dawn,
making love to Brian when we should be sleeping but

returning Home to our bodies reciting poetry to the Divine,

rising early with my prayer shawl wrapped around my growing belly,
sitting in silence until a baby cries and my feet take me to them,
somehow in the dark, and my arms become their shawl…

again and again,
through the doubt and the worry
the shame and the regret
the wondering and the wounds
the mistakes and the miraculous
the cooing and the sighing
the obsessing and

the letting go,

returning

again and again
to the Divine
within.

I already embody what I longed for,
what I thought was missing,
what I believed I was ‘not yet:’

I am sensual and beautiful.”

The words escaped my heart before they could be squelched
by analysis or habitual practices of learning to not be powerful…
and know it. Spoken into existence, they flew

out into the world and danced,

and then back into me
as prayer, as breath,
to be breathed

and then exhaled
as blessing.

Lisa A. McCrohan, © 2013

Mindful Moment: Stay and Soften

One evening in December, our bedtime ritual started out like to does every night:  brushing teeth, pjs, a book, a few songs, a prayer (sometimes we sing it!), and me laying with our two year old daughter while Brian lays with our five year old son.

Our son, he is out in like two minutes.  Kindergarten does that to a boy!  Our daughter, she loves to chat, sing, lay there, ask for more milk, cuddle.  Most nights, I savor it.  I linger with Little C.  I whisper my prayers.  I lay there in the quiet, holding her, listening to her breathe…and then ask another question.  When Little C was a few months old, I wrote this poem:

My Skin Remembers

In the dark stillness of the early morning,

before the first glimmers of dawn appear through our bedroom window,

Brian brings Clara to me for an early morning feeding.

She is half awake half asleep now nuzzled next to me.

Her little feet rest on my bare belly as she wraps one arm over my chest

and tucks the other under my breast to nurse.

I am laying on my side, my left arm stretched out on the bed

and heat from the top of Clara’s head warms the inside of my elbow.

My right arm wraps around her tiny, plump, six month old body.

Our bellies touching rise and fall together in a soft rhythm.

Though my body begs for more sleep, I don’t mind being up so early

before the sunlight slowly dances into our room.

I know now with my second child that this will not last forever.

There will come a day when I will long to hold my babies again

just      like     this

and my skin will ache with nostalgia.

But this morning, I also know that when that day comes,

a smile will rise up from within me

as my skin remembers breathing in

this

very

moment.

Butttttt….there are times when I am think “O.M.G., you gotta go to sleep!”  I am tired, needing space, needing to be on my own for a bit.  And that’s when my meditation practice comes into play.

“It’s ok to feel this way, Lisa.”

“It’s ok to want time alone, to need space.”

In those moments, I try to remind myself to practice self-compassion instead of beating myself up with mama guilt “Oh I shouldn’t feel this way!  I should be oh-so-very present AND loving every minute of it.  Why don’t I feel that way? What’s wrong with ME?  So-and-so…you’d never hear that from her!  She loves everything about being a mom….”  It goes on, doesn’t it?  Well, instead of going down THAT path, ….

I pause.  I stay with what is rising up.  I don’t push it away.  I just stay.  I hold my heart and my needs and my yearnings close, with breath and spaciousness.  I soften.  And the once intense emotions and thoughts shift.

What rises up is a sense of “ahhhh, ok.  I’m ok.  This is ok.”  And then I’m able to make a clearer, more compassionate choice.

So back to this one night in December…

I thought my Little C. was asleep.  I slowly rolled out of her bed and started to get up to leave.

“Mommy, where you going?”

OHHHH I could’ve lost it.  I was tired.  It was late.  I felt my feet on the earth (on our “beautiful” carpet stained with milk and god knows what else!), I softened, breathed…

And then Little C. continued, “Mama, you stay with me?”

STAY WITH ME.  These words cut riiiight through to what is most important.  Right through any frustration, tiredness, need for alone time.

I turned back into the room, got into bed again with Little C., and said, “Yes, my Love, I’ll stay with you.” 

We laid like that for a long while.  Just in silence.  Me — softening, letting it all go, noticing, allowing.

And then Little C. whispers – half asleep, half awake, “Mommy?”

Me: “Yes, Love?”

Little C.: “I love you.”

Then she fell sound asleep.

As I pulled the covers up over her little chest, as I walked out of the quiet room, I thought about how that could’ve gone comPLETELY different.  There are times it has — when I’m like, “BABY!  You gotta go to sleep!”  Times when I lay there but I’m not really present.  Times when I am tired and under resourced.  And I react.  Instead of respond.  And as I walked out of the room, I found myself oh so grateful for the intention I set years ago to be a mindful mama, for how that has informed my practice of SOFTENING, tending to, allowing, being with, being gentle IN OUR EVERYDAY LIFE.  I found myself bowing to the community of moms and  dads who are on this journey of healing our world through being RIGHT HERE, present to and regarding our little ones.

STAY.  STAY AND SOFTEN.  With our own hearts, with our little ones.  I am finding that the more I offer myself such sweet spaciousness, the more I am able to extend that to my dear ones.  And I smile softly, with no regrets.

I can’t

Moms.  We are a powerful bunch.  Blood, vomit, skinned knees and elbows, broken bones, broken hearts, lost lovies, middle of the night hugs and holding.  Can’t find your favorite blanket?  No problem.  Want to play basketball this winter?  We’ll get you there.  Gotta do a fundraiser?  Let’s do it.  We make it happen.  We handle it.

But in a world of perfect pinterest pictures and crafts and recipes; in a world where ultimately the buck stops with us; in a world where many of us don’t have the luxury of generations of women with us throughout the day…

…we can feel responsible…for EVERYthing.  How our children act and feel, how the house looks, the finances, menus for meals, making sure our kiddos get enough rest and love and warm clothes and friends and piano practice and exposure to the arts, birthday parties, homemade cupcakes, the right presents…etc etc.

We are the family’s pediatrician, chef, party planner, CPA, soccer coach, chauffeur, social planner, interior designer, hair dresser, breadwinner, school board rep, historian and picture taker…

We get up. We make it happen.  Kiddos are bathed and dressed and sometimes we are, too.

But over the years, though I have felt this ever increasing surge of “at the end of the day, I’m responsible for it all,” I have also found myself saying, “I can’t do it.”

And more and more on a regular basis.

This morning was one of those “I can’t” days.

I can’t stay up till midnight editing family pictures in time for today’s party and get up early and not be exhausted.  I can’t be present to my kiddos when they seem to really just need ME this morning and do the final touches on my presents for family.  I can’t make homemade butternut squash soup, vacuum (at least the main floor!), straighten up, clean the main bathroom, get dressed, get the kiddos fed and happy and off each other, get Christmas cards in the mail, get to mass, get ready for the party at our house WHILE BRIAN IS AT WORK.

I can’t do it alone.

“I can’t do it,” I found myself silently saying to myself as I threw the unbaked butternut squash back into the frig and responded harshly to the kiddos asking for a snack and looked at the disaster of a kitchen.  I called Brian, “I can’t do it.”

A tightness gripped my stomach and spread up to my throat.  I had to admit I couldn’t do it today.

I am not super mom. And though I don’t try to be, I admit, there are times I feel “responsible” as though I were super mom.

Today, this morning, I am tired and cranky and alone mom.  I am  frazzled mom.  I am in-need-of-a-nap-and-some-help mom.  I am in-need-of-breakfast mom.

I couldn’t and I didn’t.

Unknowingly, my dear friend and neighbor happened to call in the middle of it all.  “I’m going to the Common Market, do you need anything?”

God bless you!  “Yes, I need twine!”

“Twine?”

“Yes, twine.  To wrap the cards I made for the girls in my family.”

“I’ve got some.  It’s in tangled in a ball — the kiddos got to it and….”

She didn’t even have to explain.  I got it.  And she got me!

My five year old, who is always spot on and honest and an extrovert who shares, “Mom, you’re kind of like Aunt Petunia this morning (the awful aunt in Harry Potter).  What gives?” And he gave me a hug.

So Brian came.  I slept.  He made the soup, put Clara down for a nap, and straightened up enough.  And from upstairs, I heard…nothing.  And it was beautiful.

I received their kindness today.

We’ve all heard, “Tis better to give than to receive.”

Nope.  It’s harder to receive.  When you give, you are in control.  You are “on top.”  Often someone feels indebted to you.  You get a warm, fuzzy feeling and often a warm and verbose “THANK YOU!”

When you receive…you are brought to the vulnerable raw, helpless, needy parts of yourself.  You are humbled by your own weakness and often times…brokenness.

It’s hard to be in that place.  God forbid we admit being needy and vulnerable and unable to “make it happen.”

Over the years of having kiddos I have been brought to my knees many times — in prayer, sleep deprived and exhausted rocking and nursing, to the toilet vomiting (mine or my kiddos), the floor wiping up god knows what spilled, and into the arms of my Brian saying, “I can’t do it.”

It’s hard to admit that.  But I can’t.  I can’t be present to my kiddos and get a million things done.  I can’t be on the PTA, our CPA, FB, or…some other acronym…and cook homemade meals, blog every day, work, write, do yoga, meditate…..blah blah blah.

So I don’t.

But I can do a few things. And do them with love and attention and kindness.  And that’s what my life is about — being mindful of slowing down, of noticing what really matters, of being ok with not having it all together.  That’s what parenting is teaching me.

I…we all..can do one thing in a moment instead of mulit-tasking and busying our lives and doing a crappy job at it.

We can sllllllllow down.

Leave the dishes.  Forget nicely wrapped presents.  Slow down and receive the moment.

Receive…

This breath.

This hug from your little one,

this Grace,

this help,

this kindness from others.

And so, this morning, my “act of kindness” was to myself (and ultimately, my family!).  I took a nap so I’d wake up as Lisa. Not Aunt Petunia.  Lisa whose eyes smile tenderly at my little ones. Lisa whose can greet family and make folks feel welcomed and loved.  Lisa who can handle a new marble game all over the floor.  Lisa who can hold Little C all afternoon.   Lisa who can read another chapter and another and another of “The MAgic Tree House” to my son.  Lisa who can say, “Thank you” to Brian at the end of a beautiful, humbling day.

Give them PRESENCE

‘Tis the season…for overwhelm.  Every Xmas, I tend to get overwhelmed.  My love language is NOT gift giving – especially in “have to” gift-giving times.  I am not one of those moms who knows the “right” toys for certain ages.  I don’t know the “cool gifts”, heck I don’t even know what styles are “in” right now for me!  With our children now in full “magic of Christmas” swing, I can so see how moms/parents could get consumed by the whole present thing and lose sight of what is most important.

I found myself the other night with Brian after the kiddos were asleep and the contents of Santa’s bag spread out on our kitchen floor, seeing what we had and making sure everyone had “enough” of the “right” stuff.  I found myself spending waaaaaaaay too much time checking our “lists” and getting more and more anxious – did Clara have enough?  Is it “balanced” in terms of “girly stuff’ and stuff that actually challenges her?  What about Aidan – he’s not that in to superheroes any more and more in to magic – do we give him the superhero stuff we had left over from last year?  And Brian – I can’t find him that sweater he wants, I even had Maria on the search, what do I do if I can’t find him anything?”   In comes “overwhelm.”

It’s all self-induced.  Our families are pretty chilled.  I probably wouldn’t have to have anything for anyone (ok, besides the kiddos) if I didn’t want to.  But I want to have something for them.  Yes, yes, I could make things – and I often do.  But even then, trying to decide WHAT to make folks can leave me feeling pretty overwhelmed.

What I’d really like to give for xmas?  Presence.  What I’d really like to receive for xmas?  Presence.

I mean, come on, do any of us really “need” any THING?  “Presence” is such a hot commodity these days.  Our undivided, un-opinionated, un-rushed presence.  Our mindful attention to another person that communicates, “I see you” and “I’m in no rush.”

Could you imagine – a little note under the tree saying, “Brian, this xmas, I’m giving you my presence.  My compassionate attention when you are tired in the morning.  My un-rushed kiss as we get the kiddos off to school.  My silence when I’d rather say something about how you aren’t doing it ‘my’ way.  My eyes open to really SEE you and see how I might make your day lighter.”

He’d love it.  And that truly would be an act of love – to mindfully and heartfully remind myself to offer my PRESENCE throughout the year.

I think that’s what I’m giving my friends.  Yes, I’m pretty good about being there for my friends.  But I could add a dash of  not rushing and just “I see you.”

I recently was listening to a podcast by Tara Brach.  She told the story of a mom who had terminal cancer and decided that with whatever time she did have, she’d live by this motto: “No time to rush.” 

None of us know when our last breath will be.  None of us have time to rush.  That isn’t meant to scare us.  It’s meant to open our hearts and eyes to the reality that this life is precious and short.  It’s meant to prompt us to give our sweet, loving presence – to our own hearts, our dear ones, and this world.

Happy presence giving!

Regarding life and the tragedy of Aurora: a possible response

The tragedy of Aurora, Colorado has me shaken.  The utter pointlessness of such violence, such trauma, such death, and such disregard for life stops me in my tracks.  How can someone feel so detached from their own humanness, their own heart, to their fellow sisters and brothers, that they disregard the sacredness of each and every life, including his own?

As a psychotherapist, I have my theories.  But as a mom, wife, sister, friend, and soulful human being, I only feel the earth deeply mourning.  Mourning those who have died, those who survived, and the loss of connection between human beings.  I believe all of heaven, all of creation groans and wails with the cries of those who are mourning in Aurora and every human being across the planet who is mourning in this moment.

How do we respond to such tragedy?

I know that in me asking “why” and judging, well, the “answers” aren’t found there.

From my meditation practice and my spiritual path, this is what I know:

Don’t close off.  Don’t shut down your heart.

Go back into your Self and touch your heart.

Keep your heart alive, soft, tender, and open.

Keep on connecting – to your own Heart, to the person lying next to you in bed, to your child tugging on your hem for “more milk, pweeease,” and to your neighbor — the one right next door, the one in the cubicle next to you, and the one you’ll never meet in Syria, China, Africa…

Keep connecting to your humanity, to what makes you human — this capacity to be moved by the suffering of your own self and others.  That’s called “compassion.”  Keep it alive.

We ALL want to love and be loved.  We all want to feel safe, held, sacred, and regarded.

I am certain of is this:  we must keep on regarding life.

Here, see my husband…holding a toad that happened to hop into our backyard “pad” one summer evening this past week.

See my children…their hearts and eyes wildly open with amazement and desire to connect and know this little creature.

My husband, teaching our children that all of life is to be regarded.

THIS IS HOW WE PREVENT SUCH TRAGEDY FROM HAPPENING AGAIN.

Pause and hold the smallest of creatures with regard — the ugly and the beautiful, the ones who “deserve it” and the ones who don’t, the ones we understand and the ones we don’t,  the ones we “like” and the ones we don’t.  Keep on softening your heart and opening your heart and connecting to every other living being.

I don’t do this every moment of every day.  I am short with my children, I get annoyed with my husband and I let him know about it, I say a few words in my car during rush “hour.”  But I practice waking up and coming back to my Heart.  I practice “CHOOSING TO SOFTEN” and open and act with compassion.  I practice connecting to every living being and remembering that they, too, have the same desires and hopes for safety, happiness, health, and ease.

I am hoping that such a journey of attempting to live with a compassionate and regarding heart will, over the years, teach my children to do the same.

Making miracles of everyday life

Here is the first video by the Barefoot Barn!  It’s about finding a sacred pause in your everyday life…and making miracles out of the ordinary.  Enjoy!  Hope it inspires you!

Thank you to these awesome women who contributed to this first video.  They are all moms, professionals, and incredible women who bring beauty and kindness into this world.

Megan Jones
Meredith Mullins
Samantha Schroeder
Molly Spence
Tracy Sullivan

For everyday wisdom,
visit Meg @
www.istopforsuffering.wordpress.com

For family photography,
visit Tracy @
www.dragonflydreamphotography.com