a conversation that matters

This is the About page at Stigmama.com who "believe in the power of women, especially those who have been touched by mental illness or mental difference, to create change. . . We need the wisdom and support of others to unpack stigma of mental difference in motherhood. How does it impact your life as a mother? How did it impact your mother’s life? Or your grandmother?"

Sometimes the path is bumpy and full of roots, which leads me to be in awe of the stirring honesty of the contributors of Stigmama.  I have read Shannon's beautiful, yet painful poetry  and admire SM's strength in her abundant use of curse words.  Today, I am joining these powerful mothers on the Stigmama blog for their series "Why Do I Write?"  It's mostly pre-published material, but there is a smidgen of new writing too.   

I write to sort out the complexities of being a mom.  As my daughter stands strong before the start of second grade, I wonder how things will change for her as she grows into a women and maybe a mother.  I consider this as I raise my son in a way that honors his sensitive, sweet self forever, therefore honoring the same in the women around him.

If the intense suffering of mothers around me can be combined and conveyed with such talent, so will I strive to do the same.   It feels so much more real this way, making room for more joy to come bounding down the path at us!

The Rainbows She Leaves Behind

She made a rainbow bigger than herself on Saturday.   Before that, she pressed one into form with her fingers.  Then, I found one made of wax.  My girl is leaving rainbows behind and my inner seven-year old is fully enjoying it.  However, as mother I am starting to see them in a new way.

In 1982 when I was seven, I was busy scrawling secret handwritten notes to my parents asking for a puppy.  I would leave them in their dresser drawers and by spring I had my puppy.  She was a toy poodle named Pickles who lived long enough to go to sophomore year of college with me.  I remember feeling secure and happy with friends and family that year, but I also have memories of feeling anxious and something called self-criticism sneaking in.

According to the books about developmental stages  by Louise Bates Ames, she describes this as the age of introspection.  "Seven-year-olds feel picked on by family, friends, and teachers alike; they worry that no one likes them; they expect every little task to prove too difficult to handle; tears come easily at this age."

Which basically describes my girl on point right now.  Although I dislike some of what is written in Ames's books, I do feel comforted by most of her words.  Especially during mornings like today, when my daughter has so many tears, everything is too hard and "no one likes me."  I realize she is in the thick of a developmental stage and I can't fix it.  These are the times when she quietly asks to take a class at the neighborhood studio, Seattle Mosaic Arts, and I am quick to say, "Yes!" 

Trying my best not to direct her or get in the way, I was her assistant reaching the jars of tiles on the higher shelves and finding all the glittery ones.  I watched in amazement as she used all the tools with confidence and made exactly what she wanted.  This was a task she could handle with ease.  There was only deep concentration.   

It's times like this when I see her as the beautifully complicated being that she is, that she has always been.  I think of myself at that age and have more sympathy.  Next month, she'll announce quite proudly that she is seven and a half (which according to Ames's books the half ages bring with them some discord and unrest.)  Being seven has as much colorful harmony as it does tears and anxiety; therefore, the rainbows my sweet girl leaves behind remind me again that it's all fleeting.  Be gentle and appreciate it.

Seven

36 words

Even though she's seven, she still needs me to snuggle her to sleep.  What if I started the bedtime routine an hour earlier, so we had time for pillow talk in the dark?  That's all she really wants.

inspired by habit

Strange Birthday Phenomenon

My girl turns seven this week and I am reminded of a strange birthday phenomenon.  A couple of years back, as she ran past me all legs and arms, I noticed for the first time that all of her chubby baby-ness was gone from her limbs.  She was not a toddler anymore,  It seemed to have all faded away right in that moment, on her birthday.   I felt a shift in my consciousness, a sense that it's over.  Although it's never linear, there's a feeling that a certain part of parenting her is now gone and we're moving onto the next thing.  That is exactly what has been happening this week.  There are some very clear signs of seven-ness that are becoming apparent.

Usually my girl stays close to me and knows where I am at all times.  She does not want me out of her sight for long.  Which I assumed to be the typical course of things this weekend, while apple picking at a local farm.  Little did I know, she had grown up.  My son and I went inside to pay for our fruit, while she stayed to play outside.  When we came out, she was no where to be found.  I assumed she and the other little girl, who's mom worked at the farm, had taken off to play.  I look out beyond the expanse of the orchard.

Soon, I saw the two girls running toward me gleefully yelling, "Hey, she's almost seven too!"  My daughter had met a new friend and had run with her as far away from me as she could into the depths of the orchard and back.  Watching her long legs bounding through the grass like a giraffe, I was filled with pride.  Just like when she was a baby with a new tooth, or taking those first precious wobbly steps, I was puffed up with Mama happiness that she had hit a new developmental stage.  She could instantly do that very kid-like thing: make a new friend, run off to play and come back to me without a shred of anxiety.  It was her first time doing this and I couldn't help but notice.  It's a silent type of observing.  Not the same as when her front teeth fall out or her first day of school.  Only I took note of it, because I am her Mom.

On the eve of her birthday party, I took this picture and realized that she had planned the majority of it.  I was the chauffeur as she described which stores sell pinatas, and I drove.  She asked for bouquets from her friends instead of gifts because she wanted the house filled with flowers.  She added rainbows to the horse theme, and I went to bed that night noticing that the combination was quite elegant.    

As referred to in Waldorf education; she's been making a transformation in the last year, "seeking a safe place to test out her newfound need to push boundaries, while the parents trust that they truly understand the child in order to meet them."  All of a sudden, this means I relate more to information about parenting adolescents and less about small children.  Which feels like she's closer to the teen she will be than the baby she once was.  That is what I have been seeing more of these days.  Although she still cuddles against me every morning and often needs me like a toddler, I am facing her birthday feeling taken-aback by all this growing up that seems to be happening just this week.