Good to be back!

I have taken some time away from the blogosphere for the past 6 months.  I admit that I hope I was missed.... at least a little.  I certainly missed writing.  Here's the scoop.  I spilled a few drops of water on my computer keyboard.  bummer.  Took it to apple store and was told our laptop was "vintage".  There first time this term didn't make me feel hip in the least bit.  So, yadda, yadda, time, money...finally glad to be back tapping on the keyboard and reconnecting here.
I am writing from the mountains of Montana.  We have been blessed to have some awesome friends, who run an awesome theater company, in an astoundingly beautiful part of the country.  This is our third summer here. Last summer here was equally awesome, but ended with some sadness.  We were surprised to learn I was pregnant, but at about 8 weeks I had a miscarriage.  I am not gonna lie.  I was nervous to return here.  Scared that the reminder and grief would be overwhelming.
Last July when I returned home, a dear and generous friend gifted me with 2 months of unlimited yoga to work out my grief on the mat.  She doesn't realize she gifted me with so much more. Free yoga, of course is fabulous to a penny-pinching mom who doesn't make enough time for herself.  But she gave me permission to be sad, angry, and to take the time to "work it out".  I hadn't give myself that kind of permission.  Fast forward beyond 2 months, and I was still practicing yoga, still crying, considering pregnancy again, and began yoga teacher training.  Yep.  Who knew that such deep sadness would lead me to a realization of a new love of teaching yoga and helping others?  Was it suppose to happen this way?  Who knows? And frankly, I don't even care about all that.  I began a journey of even deeper self-study and that's what I care about.  As our luggage and dog-filled car trekked closer to Montana last week, I could feel my anxiety increasing.  I have been reading "A Return to Love" by Marianne Williamson and was reminded that my past, no matter how heartbreaking, does not have to decide my present.  This week has been filled with reconnecting with favorite people, spending just about every minute with Peanut, supporting talented Husband, inspiration from amazing theater, spying deer at dinner time, picnics, and many moments of gratitude. I have been buoyed by so much support this past year.  I literally felt loving hands holding me up when I felt I was sinking.  That's why I share all of this very personal stuff. I am giving you permission to work it out...what ever it might be.
It's good to be back.

Three Little Words

The title of this post could be misleading.  While I believe that hearing the words "I Love You" and hearing them often is crucial, that' s not where I am heading today.  Some nights "Red Wine Now" could be the three most important words I say.  But I am not talking about soothing my stressful soul with an alcoholic libation either.  Here's the story...( of a lovely lady, just kidding)...
It's a Friday evening.  It's hot. 90 degrees. Our AC isn't working.  Husband has been working more hours than any person should. He is choreographing the musical at the university where he teaches, on top of his already crazy heavy load as a professor.  So his time at home has been limited.  Like only home for dinner for maybe 2 hours and then it's back to school. He couldn't be a more attentive father and husband. I adore this man.  One of the reasons I adore him is because he is so great at playing with our daughter.  She has a vast imagination and he happily pretends to be Gaston, Lefou, Ursula and King Triton all in one story.  Back to the Friday.  Did I say it was hot?  They were outside playing, in the middle of a very tense moment for Ariel, I assume.  I am preparing dinner, as much in the  microwave as possible so I don't raise the temp of our already sun baked kitchen. I asked Peanut if she would please feed the dog.  "No, I am playing with my dad." Ok.  I get it.  Choosing battles.  She has had a few meltdowns over missing him. To husband. "Could you please feed the dog?"  I get a little grumbling about spending time with Peanut, but he does in fact, feed the dog.  I stew for a moment. I have stewing down to an art some days. I begin to recall the plate from breakfast that gets left on the table as he rushes out the door .  I count every pair of shoes in the middle of the floor, just from where I am standing.  Okay, I admit, a couple are mine. Then I stop myself and resolve to speak up at dinner to say three very important and powerful little words.
Here goes : I need help.
I didn't raise my voice, shed a tear, or get all defensive and list all the many times I wasn't helped. I just made the statement.  They listened and said, "OK."  The rest of our dinner that followed was lovely.

This was a huge lesson for me.  There are so many things in life I can't control. I can't even control on what level Husband and Peanut will actually help, which has been superb, by the way.  However, I can control how I react.  I can control how I proceed when faced with something that could very easily piss tick me off.  (That's for my mom,  She hates the "p" word). I can either simply and undramatically state what  I need or I can brood over it for the next 5 hours and verbally attack Husband when he comes through the door late after a grueling rehearsal.  That's so not fun or pretty and really puts a damper on any possibility of either of us getting lucky later. Plus,  I am teaching Peanut by example how to ask for what you need without manipulation and I am including her in the tasks of being a family. It felt so good not to be the martyr.
I began to think about this lesson further beyond being a mom and/or wife.  How many times in my life have I needed to say these words to a friend, to a family member, a boss?  I need help.  My life is overwhelming. I need validation, etc. Just state it simply with no defenses. Not mull it over in my mind a million times and play a strong hand of guilt or slip so comfortably into my victim costume.  Let me confess that costume is worn out.
It's time to don our Wonder Woman costumes, do our best Lynda Carter spin and enlist the help of our fellow super heros.

As Long As It's Not Life-Threatening

Last November,  I was waiting so patiently for a fertility doctor's appointment and grabbed a random magazine to flip through. I was trying to avoid the numerous pregnant women who seem to unknowingly taunt my barren womb as they approach the receptionist's desk with their glow.  I buried my head in Working Mother and read an article about Samantha Bee.  She is a writer for The Daily Show and author of I Know I Am, But What are You? She's a comedian and mother of three small children.  Really cool chick.  Seems like someone I'd enjoy.  I was extremely intrigued when asked about her parenting style. Here's her response:

   There's no "bad cop" in the household.  We're very laid-back.  We tend to think about things in stark terms. If it's not life-threatening, we let the kids do it. 

Often feeling like the "bad cop", I couldn't believe what I had just read.  My friend and fellow blogger calls it "hard core parenting".  Check her out! Seriously? You just let them do it.  There's no lesson to be taught? What about boundaries? So I go home to discuss this point of view with "good cop" husband.  He agrees with the comedian.
So I decided to give it a try.  I realized how much I was trying to control my daughter's behavior.  And I understood why I was so exhausted at the end of most days.  It's a losing battle.  They are going to be who they are going to be. I have a few friends back in our old neighborhood who seem to have this laissez-faire approach down.  And truthfully, their children are gems.  They are smart and funny and have good manners.  As I began to stop white-knuckling my hold on Peanut's behavior, I realized that she mostly made the right choices.  When she didn't, it wasn't necessary for me to pound the lesson in her brain. She got it.  Most importantly, I enjoyed being a parent even more.  I assume she must have enjoyed her not-nagging-as-much mother too.
I still feel like "bad cop" when I continuously have to remind everyone that it is bath time.  But I see how she deeply enjoys her time with her dad, because he is focused on her and not her behavior. I am learning to choose my parenthood battles and continually tell myself that as long as it's not life-threatening, I guess it's okay. Looks like I still have many lessons to learn too.